My wife, Nina, got a call at the house once. “We’re looking for the bamboo man. He’s a small Japanese man.”
Tribune: How tall are you?
Grandy: Six-one. But the beard makes me look giant. They just assumed.
Tribune: What did your wife do?
Grandy: She said, “My husband is the bamboo man. He can be Asian if you want him to be.”
People assume I’m Buddhist. They assume I know feng shui. There’s quite a few people who think I’m a shaman, from (seeing me) up on Alberta Street. This one woman had a band, and she wanted me to act as a shaman in a video, mostly because of the beard and how I look. And she thought I was a little magical because of the structures. So I acted in her video.
Tribune: Just to set the record straight, do you practice Buddhism or any ancient religion or …
Grandy: Christianity? Mostly I take my mom to church and sing real loud.
This gets surprisingly interesting/poignant at the end:
"The one a lady had built so she could commit suicide? She was a sad person. I always get to know my clients, and as I got to know her I realized what she was up to because she was talking about ending her life all the time and she wanted a room in which to do it. My role wasn’t just building it at that point, but being a counselor. I tried to build it so beautifully that she wouldn’t want to go.
The most fun job was a teahouse in Diamond Springs, Calif. A family was building a private meditation center. They’d bought 12 acres just for this teahouse.
I pointed out, because it was way out in the woods away from their house, that their daughter would probably lose her virginity out there.
Then I went home and my twin daughters were 16 or 17 and I went out to my teahouse, out in the woods behind my house, and I open the door and there’s a mat and candles and I said, “Hey, wait a minute.”