I enjoy threads like this, one of the nice things about growing up is that we don't have to hide behind any tough exteriors anymore and feel a lot more at ease expressing ourselves. Going to tell my bonsai story. When I was around 12 years old (46 years ago) a japanese contractor had come to my parents home to give them an extimate on building a new home in the back of our lot. He noticed my little trees on my work bench and came over to admire them asking me where I learned to do bonsai. I thanked him for the compliment as he was the first and only one to ever notice them and asked him what exactly bonsai meant. he gave me an explanation of bonsai and told me that my form for growing and training trees was true bonsai. As a 12 year old I was excited to find out I was actually doing something that had a name. He asked me what I thought about when I made these little trees, the best I could tell him was that I thought they looked pretty like that. He asked me to think about that question a little more and give him a call when I had a better answer, he and his wife owned a bonsai nursery a mile or so from my house. He informed me that there was more to it than pretty and he could see that. I will always believe that conversation was new milestone in my life.
29 years later I got back to him with an answer, right after my divorce. Funny, don't know if he just said this or not but he said " I knew you would get back to me on that question eventually". When he came to give us the estimate it was plain to him that we were poor, and lived in crowded and chaotic enviroment. Very little structure to the home or family and every inch of the property was basicaly a junk yard with the exception of my bonsai garden. My style of trees were stout trunks, stout branches, lots of light comming through trees so that all the leaves would get their equal share, excess and wispy weak growth was always quickly removed, battle scars and twisted growth were displayed proudly on them almost in some kind of defiance to the orderly straightly trimmed typical neiborhood landscapes. I realized I was simply imposing my philosophy of how I wanted my life on to my trees. They were tough, bold, independent, and beautiful for all their character. He proudly concratulated me and the grouchy old bastard gave me a badly needed hug. We are still friends today and he still works his nursery every day, I imagine he is pat 90 years old by now. Steve