The Earthquake Detector

     Last Thursday night after my piano students' recital,

...I invited several friends who'd shown up to give moral and logistical support to join Tom, Tommy and me for dinner at The Hunan House on Dublin-Granville Road which I'd suggested not only for its proximity to the recital hall,

but for its fanciful architecture,

...charming interior,

...and yummy food.

   Among the dishes we tried were

the Chicken and Eggplant with Black Bean Sauce,  

...Pork and Oriental Vegetables,

...Pad Thai

...Green Pepper Steak,

...and I, to celebrate the success of the evening,  had the House Roast Duck,

...which was sooo tasty, and plenty enough to give everyone who wanted a try.

     While waiting for our food I wandered about the restaurant looking at the decor and snapping shots.

     I was especially captivated by this piece sitting in the center of the restaurant:

    While I stood studying it one of the wait staff came up to me and asked me if I knew what it was.
    When I told him that I didn't he replied that it was an earthquake detector.  He then explained that the jaws of the dragons were hinged and held a ball.  In response to a tremor under the earth the dragons' hinged jaws would fall open and drop the ball into the mouth of the frog.  Hence when one heard  or saw the ball dropping into the mouth of the frog one knew an earthquake was neigh.

     Now, I didn't think to ask the waiter how long in advance of the the earthquake's manifestation the balls dropped, but I assume t must have been before the the house started shaking, otherwise what would have been the point of the detector if not to warn one in time to seek safety?
     As I looked at this beautiful object of practical art it occurred to me that if I had been a wealthy Chinese citizen back during whatever dynasty who could have afforded one of these in-home detectors, rather than conveying a sense of security and peace of mind, having a couple of these situated around the house would probably have caused me anxiety.  And my kids, too.   I can see them and me checking the frogs fifteen times a day to make sure that the balls were still in the dragons' mouths.  I can see us dreaming about them.  I can see me assuring my little ones every night as I tucked them in that there was absolutely nothing  worry about, that Daddy and I would always keep them safe, that they should never fear, that we were all in God's hands, that everything would be all right, really and truly.
      I think I must have been dealing with some not-yet dissipated residual piano recital anxiety.