In my early teens, I played in a monthly poker game with five friends. Our high stakes betting consisted of chips worth pennies, nickels, and dimes. All of us, except our friend David, would start the evening by opening our wallets, retrieving two or three one-dollar bills and exchanging them for chips.
David, however, stored his poker money in a beautiful, handmade, lacquer puzzle box, like the one pictured. Opening the box was the puzzle. It required a precise set of steps, moving slim panels, embedded in the ends of the box, to the left or right or up or down. As best as I recall, David made well over 20 moves to get his box open. Closing the box required executing the steps exactly in reverse.
Since graduating high school, I’ve seen David once, at a high school reunion. David has lived in California for many years, working as an animator at Disney Studios. About five years ago we exchanged emails, as I was looking for help from his brother, a filmmaker, in researching my family tree, as we had a possible branch in Hollywood (but that’s another story).
This past March, my wife, Abby, and I visited Japan on a vacation. It is an amazing country, which I didn’t fully appreciate when I visited on business a few times many years ago. One leg of our trip took us into the mountains near Hakone, about 75 miles from Tokyo. During our stay there, our guide, Yoshie-san, took us to a shop, Hamamatsuya, where a 7th generation craftsman, about 60 years old, showed us the method he uses to layer different types and colors of wooden strips. He uses them to create parquet patterns from which he makes an assortment of artistic and functional pieces.
After the demonstration, Abby and I browsed his shop. Among the items for sale were a variety of puzzle boxes requiring anywhere from 4 to 72 steps to unlock. I remarked to Abby that my friend David had such a box when we were growing up. When we got back to our hotel that afternoon, Abby posted some scenic pictures on Facebook in which she commented about Japan and tagged me, which caused her postings to be visible to my Facebook friends as well. Later that day, David, who is my Facebook friend, made a one-word comment, “Tokyo?” I wondered if it was the father or grandfather of the artisan Abby and I met, that made his poker puzzle box 50 years ago.