Merrie Monarch Festival

My cousin, Larry e-mailed me a couple of days ago to tell me that his wife, Yumiko would be in the Merrie Monarch Festival which is being held in Hilo on the Big Island. Yumiko is actually from Japan, but has been dancing with this halau (hula group) for several years. This explains why she's so graceful and coordinated.

I had another cousin named Peter (Pohaku) who passed away suddenly a couple of years ago. He was a kumu hula who established the Halau Kanikapahuolohi‘au in Kapa‘a in 1980 on the island of Kauai. I'm told that the halau performed a beautiful hula at his funeral. My mother says my aunt used to call her from Kauai to remind her to watch her son on TV when they performed at the Merrie Monarch Festival.

The Merrie Monarch is a big occassion in Hawaii where the halaus come together for a hula competition.


"Begun forty-seven years ago by the Hawaii Island Chamber of Commerce and continued by the private Merrie Monarch Festival community organization, the major purpose of the festival is the perpetuation, preservation, and promotion of the art of hula and the Hawaiian culture through education. The festival is considered the world's premier forum for people of all ages to display their skills and knowledge of the art of ancient and modern hula.

The annual presentation of the Merrie Monarch Festival has led to a renaissance of the Hawaiian culture that is being passed on from generation to generation. The week-long festival includes art exhibits, craft fairs, demonstrations, performances, a parade that emphasizes the cultures of Hawaii, and a three-day hula competition that has received worldwide recognition for its historic and cultural significance."

It was so much fun trying to pick out Yumiko in the group. This is from last night. They'll be performing again tonight. I'll be keeping my fingers crossed for their halau since the competition is stiff.

Before you ask... No, I have no idea how to do a hula aside from what I learned from Nona Beamer at a hula workshop almost 35 years ago. Let's face it. Learning to do line dancing with mostly my feet is enough of a challenge for me. Can you imagine how much harder it would be to add the all important hand movements that tell the story? I'd rather just watch Yumiko.

Flawless Fairy Tale Wedding

OK... I admit it. I stayed up until 2:00 AM watching William and Catherine's wedding. I wasn't sure I was going to, but Art turned the TV on and said, "Go on... I know you want to." And then he went to sleep.

The first thing that struck me was the modern technology we have now. The cameras were everywhere and caught every detail. You were far better off watching it on TV than being there to see what was going on.


I really loved seeing the love between the siblings. The commentators mentioned what good friends William and Harry were and how they tease each other mercilessly. Harry teases William about his balding and William teases Harry about having "ginger" hair.

Catherine's sister, Pippa looked beautiful as well and it's heart warming to know they are also very close.

I was interested in seeing the Step Mother-in-Law and Mother-of-the-Bride dresses. Both mothers really looked fabuous!

I loved seeing all the fancy big hats. Ummm... But why was the Prime Minister's wife not wearing a hat? Her head looked naked.

It was nice to see the Royal family looking so cordial and hearing how Charles and Camilla were happy and how William and Harry now really loved her. Forgiveness is a lovely thing.

And then Kate appeared and we could all see her mystery dress. I was a little disappointed. I thought she'd choose something without the lace, something not quite so old fashioned looking.

Then it grew on me. They say it is reminiscent of Grace Kelly's dress. Actually, any wedding gown would have looked great on Princess Catherine. She was stunning!


It just amazed me how we could see the wedding from every single angle, crystal clear and super close up. How scary is that for the couple to know every single gesture or squirm would be caught and Twittered?


I loved it when William who was the last one to see his bride whispered, "You look beautiful," when he finally did.

It was lovely to know Kate had kept her hair down than putting it up unnaturally because she wanted her future husband to see her as she really was on this important day.

We also got that close up view of William having difficulty getting the ring on her finger. Like I said before... the technology is incredible!

They rode to Buckingham Palace after the wedding, but it was after 2:00 and I just couldn't stay up for The Kiss.

I went to bed.

Art opened one eye and said, "Did you enjoy it?"

I did.

Prayer of Inclusion

I'm just remembering a fond little memory from the Easter pot luck that we were invited to by some dear friends. It's funny how sometimes a gesture done spontaneously could lodge itself in your heart.

We know, of course, that almost everyone in the group is Christian. We've been to their parties previously and everybody gathers together in a circle around the heavily laden, lavish, mouth watering table for a prayer. The prayer is always a blessing of friendship and happiness for everybody before we dig in and we're happy to participate.

This time, our friend's son gave the prayer. It started in the usual way but somewhere in the middle he interjected something that made my ears and heart prick up. I don't remember the exact words, but he said something beautiful in the lines of, "We also ask blessings for those of us who may not be of the same faith and wish them health and happiness."

I really liked that. I mentioned it to Art on the way home because I figured he missed it. He hadn't and it made him smile to remember.

It made me happy to hear tolerance, respect and kindness in the next generation. There's hope for the future if the next generation can be as dedicated to his own religion, but welcoming of others as my friend's son.

Yes, there is hope.

Kanji Coincidence or Karma?

Approximately 15 years ago, my mother's sister in Sendai sent t-shirts for all of us after our trip to Japan. She thought it would be fun for us to have a t-shirt with a different kanji that she would personally select, keeping our personalities in mind.

We could hardly wait to see what she had chosen for us. Tiffany's kanji was hana which means flower. Jon's kanji was kaze for wind.
This was really special and perfect for them. Tiffany loves flowers and all beautiful things. Jon is like the wind, constantly moving around the world and rarely staying in one place very long.

My kanji on this orange t-shirt was yume which means dream. I like that. I do have dreams that I wish would come true for everybody and the world. Yesterday, Art decided to wear his t-shirt.

As we passed by the hallway he noticed a wooden plaque that his mother sent to Oahu after Art's dad passed away in 1978, just before she moved to California to live with his sister.

My mother hung the plaque on the wall so Art would always have this remembrance of his dad.

After all this time, Art stopped and stared at it. "Doesn't this kanji on the plaque look familiar?" he asked. "Isn't this what's on my t-shirt?"

"No, it can't be." I told him.


We called my mom over and we all stared at it. Yes, the kanji was the same! It is wa which means harmony or peace. Out of 50,000 kanji characters, it was pretty amazing that my aunt in Sendai, who never met Art's parents would choose this particular word for Art that is identical to the one on the plaque from his childhood home in Honokaa!!! Art never knew the meaning of the kanji when he was growing up and never thought to ask.

Now, I doubt he'll ever forget it.

Are You Going to Watch?

The Star Advertiser is calling this the Royal Wedding Week. They reported that the wedding is 7,200 miles, 10 time zones and 20 hours of jet travel away from Hawaii.

For us, it will be happening on Thursday with coverage beginning at 10 PM and the actual ceremony at midnight.

British ex-patriots in Hawaii are having wedding parties and some tea rooms are hosting special events which are sold out. Some people are planning to get all decked out with gloves and big hats.

Art says to count him out. He's going to bed since he'll be jogging at 5:30 on Friday morning. My daughter, Tiffany says she vaguely remembers seeing Diana and Charles' wedding in 1981. She would have been in kindergarten. Tif has a memory like an elephant so I'm not surprised that she would remember something like that. She says she remembers just walking in and out of the room where the television was on and that it seemed to go on forever.

I was younger then, too. I wanted to believe in fairy tales... sort of. Charles turned out to be sort of a frog (some might say toad) and Diana came to a sad and tragic end. Tiffany doesn't think she'll be watching since it'll be starting at 3:00 AM Chicago time.

I can't quite summon the excitement I did back then. And yet...

I still want to believe.

I guess I won't know until Thursday what I'll be doing.

My Best Friends

KC tells everybody that Grandpa (Art) is her best friend, and I know she thinks of him as her very, very best friend. My daughter, Tiffany asked KC once, "What about Daddy? Isn't he your best friend?"

To which she answered practically, "He's my best friend, too."

As children we often called our playmates our best friends. However, when we grow up we find that we have many best friends. I sure have! I have a number of best friends who have helped me through the years and most of them still are.

So who are those best friends?

I guess they're the ones you keep in contact with. They comfort you when you're down. They care and ask about you and want to spend time with you. They make an effort.

Gerri is a special friend in Illinois who keeps friends together. She is a Behavior Disorder teacher I met while teaching and she actively keeps a group of nine (mostly) retired teachers in contact. I've moved to Hawaii and she still makes sure I'm kept in the loop. When I had to have jaw surgery, she sat by my bedside and kept me company even though I had to answer by writing it on paper. Since I don't drive much, she would drive me everywhere the group needed to go. When we talk, she looks directly into my eyes and asks questions to understand better because she cares. Well, that's Gerri and she's my best friend. Joan, Carol, Deanna, Judy, Huong, Fran, Lisa, Sally are my best friends also.

I grew up with Diane. I met her in kindergarten. I probably didn't talk to her much then because I couldn't speak English until the 1st grade. I feel like I can't remember when I didn't know her. She was my Maid of Honor and I was hers. She is my best friend. Joanne, Karen, Mavis, Jasmine, Yvonne, Susan, and several others are also my best friends.

Then there's my blog best friends, my neighborhood best friends, my family best friends, my college best friends, my Illinois best friends...

I thank my lucky stars for all my best friends and wish I could see or hear from them more often.

But you know what? I guess my best friend of all would be the same one as KC. He's my very best friend, too!

How to Get Better Hospital Care

I actually had the following post ready to go up three days ago and suddenly Peggy of Musings of Meggie and Gigi of gigi-hawaii and another dear friend in Illinois are in the hospital. I guess I am at that time in my life when hospital visits and stays are a reality we have to cope with.

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When my Principal's mom was in the hospital seriously ill, she would go to visit her right after school. One afternoon when I walked into the office, my Principal was changing into a fresh, beautiful suit with jewelry. I asked her why she was so dressed up and she said she'd heard that patients with family who looked well to do might get better care.

She felt that health care workers were human and might give a little better attention to somebody who looked like someone of means was caring about them.

I wondered about that. From that point on, when I went to visit anybody in the hospital, I did make sure I was dressed nicely... just in case.

Then I was talking to Megan who is an RN and daughter of a good friend of mine. She said that when her father-in-law was ill, she brought over three large boxes of pizzas for the nurses station because she knew it would be appreciated and the staff would be inclined to look in more often to make sure her father-in-law was comfortable.

I was wondering about all this since it might be good to know at my age. I checked on line and found this excellent site giving you 7 Ways to Get More Attention for Your Family Member.

It doesn't mention anything about dressing up, but it did agree with Megan that it would be helpful to bring some sort of treat for the nurses to show your appreciation for their care.

This is a little hint to my family that if I'm ever in the hospital, be sure to bring over some mangoes or maybe macadamia nut candies for the nurses...better yet, make that Godivas.

Happy Easter, Happy Spring, everybody! Stay well!

Update on Musings of Meggie

We moved into our Illinois home in the freezing winter of January, 1976. Nobody seemed to be about and I was terribly lonely. Art was gone from 5:30 AM to 6:00 PM. Tiffany was just a few months old.


A few months later, Peggy and her husband, Jim moved in a couple of doors down from us. We had a little village phone book that listed our phone numbers. I don't remember who phoned who that afternoon, but Peggy and I introduced ourselves and talked until it got so dark I could barely see. I was so happy to talk to someone, I never stood up to turn on the lights. We shared everything about ourselves.

Through the years that followed, Peggy helped me learn to drive. I nearly killed us doing a left turn on a red light. She still drove with me after that. When Jon broke his arm, Peggy drove us to the ER along with our total of five children. She and her husband included us in all their holidays and they felt like family. She even had her children follow the Hawaii custom of calling us Uncle Art and Auntie Kay. Mine did the same.

Peggy has been fighting chronic lymphatic leukemia for the past year. She had cancer in her spine as a young child which left her with a cute little sway to her walk. There were challenges along the way, but she never let anything get her down. Her husband is a rock! His love has been total and he is loving, protective, strong.

A few years ago she battled skin cancer, and now this.


I hadn't heard from her in a while so I wrote to ask how she was doing.

She wrote back:

"I have been pretty busy with Dr. appointments and tests. Not done yet though.
I was having trouble breathing, so I went to the Dr and found out that my lymphs were so big that they were pressing on my windpipe.

I have to start chemo soon but first I have to see what's going on in my lungs (next Tuesday in Chicago). When I start chemo, it will be one week a month for 6 months.

I've been wanting to post something, anything but am very tired."

I asked her about the treatments she'd be having and if I could update everybody on her progress. She wrote back.

"I am having most of the treatments done in Chicago. I'll go three days during the week, one week a month for six months. I have to get a shot in the stomach the last day so I'm going to do that down here. We just trust the doctors and the hospital up in Chicago so much and not so much down here.

We'll see how it goes.

I would be very thankful if you would put an update on your blog.
Hopefully I'll be back very soon
I miss you all, so much!"

Do please say hello to her on her blog, Musings of Meggie. I know she'd love to hear from you although she's not able to write to everybody right now. She could also use a prayer or two. Peggy has always been so upbeat, but after losing her mom recently, I know it's taking more energy to get that bounce back. I've been blessed with some angels in my life. She is one of them.

Being the Eldest

It just occurred to me that 5 generations (my granddaughter, my daughter, myself, my mother and my grandmother) are all the oldest daughters as well as the oldest children in the family.

When my mother's mother arrived in 1980 for her first return visit to Hawaii since 1935, Art and I brought our two children Tiffany and Jonathan from Chicago to meet her.

We realized that we had four generations of women there so we took this photo.

We lost my grandmother in 1998.


When KC was born four years ago we had four generations of women again.

It all got me thinking about what it means to be not only the oldest female, but the oldest child.

My mother says it is the tradition in Japan for the oldest girl to always take care of her younger siblings. There's even an honorific word for the oldest girl, onesan. My mother says her mother made her sisters call her that instead of her given name. However, as they got older, the sisters felt they were too close in age so reverted to just calling her Hirochan. Her name is Hiroko. The chan is a childish endearment. My grandmother always told her that as the oldest, it was her primary responsibility to cherish and protect her younger siblings. It was her duty.

Growing up, I'm pretty sure I was also trained to feel that way. Granted I may have taken it to extremes. My brother might tell you I could be bossy. It doesn't matter, since he doesn't always listen to me anyway. It doesn't help that he's smarter than me.

I remember almost three year old, Tif crying in her room when Jon was six weeks old. I asked her what was the matter and she said, "You don't love me anymore. You're not proud of me anymore. I don't want Jon. You can take him back to the hospital. I change my mind. I want a doggy."

I told Tif that Jon belonged to her. He would always be her responsibility to teach and protect. Her eyes lit up and she took it to heart with a vengeance. From that point on, it didn't matter how angry she might be with him; nobody, nobody was allowed to hurt or say anything bad about her baby brother. Even though they are now adults, she still watches over him like a hawk. And yes, she can be a trifle bossy too although you'd never notice it. However, she comes by that naturally.

And now here's KC. It'll be interesting to see how she turns out. Hmmm... maybe we'll get her a dog.



HAPPY EARTH DAY!!!
How embarrassing! I forgot to mention Earth Day! We did our part driving our Prius and using recyclable grocery bags.

The Right Time to Bathe

In Hawaii, we were always taught to bathe before going to bed. It was pretty unthinkable not to. I guess this was a carry over Japanese custom. Going to bed with a dirty body and soiling your bedding was just way beyond acceptable behavior.


When our kids were growing up, we made sure they took a bath every night because that's the way we were raised. (That's my mother giving Tiffany a bath when we visited Hawaii in 1976, and Jon and Tif above three years later. Yes, I'm back to my scanning project again.)

When the kids grew up, they developed minds of their own in Illinois. How did that happen? They sometimes took baths in the morning. There were some times when they actually missed the night time baths. What?

When I spoke to my teacher friends, I discovered that it's true, people take baths at different times of the day. That was a revelation for me.

The morning bathers said they liked being fresh and clean smelling at work.

But then... doesn't this mean you'd have to launder your sheets every other day? This must use quite a bit of water and energy. My mother is appalled that Art and I don't think it's necessary to launder our sheets every week. Every couple of weeks is plenty as far as we are concerned. OK, I admit it! It's probably more due to laziness than anything else.

I do also have one friend who showers several times a day. What do you do in your part of the country?

Pet Peeve: Graffiti

I have this HUGE pet peeve. Graffiti! Hawaii spends way too much money just trying to keep up with painting over the graffiti that idiots (yes, IDIOTS!)deface public and even private property. I see these patchwork paint jobs all over the place. I wonder why the city doesn't just use the same color paint?

There are organizations trying to combat graffiti, but it's an ongoing problem through the ages.


The son of my classmate, Diane did an Eagle Scout project mobilizing a huge group of volunteers to paint over graffiti that covered a skate park (above photo). We all felt really great seeing how nice it looked after we were done painting in the hot sun. (below photo)


I passed that park a few days ago and saw graffiti once again scrawled around it.


I saw this piece of wall defecation down the street from our house.

Somebody (I won't say who) said some of the graffiti is actually artistic. I was told that it's called Tagging where idiots decorate their name and call it art.


When we were in Japan three years ago, my brother took photos of graffiti we saw there.

You can see below where the owner or the city tried to paint over it. At least they used one color.


I don't consider graffiti art. We shouldn't make excuses for dunderheads defacing property. If they want to do this, they should do it on their own property, some place in the back yard where nobody has to see it. Or... hey, why not do it on a piece of canvas and stick it up on their own bathroom wall. That's where all cr-- belongs. Oops! Sorry... got carried away...

OK... that was my rant for the day.

I'm going to my happy place now and will try to think of something nice to write about. I've got Tai Chi tomorrow. That should calm me down.

I Come-A-Zumba Zumba Zayo!

I've heard about Zumba classes a lot lately in the neighborhood so when Art's cousin, Renee asked me if I'd like to join her on Mondays I thought I'd give it a try.

Renee has been taking Zumba toning and exercise classes for a month now and really feels the difference. This was my second time.

Zumba is an aerobic dance exercise class using a lot of South American and what looks like Indian movements. It's quite different from my line dancing class where the foot movements are precise, your arms don't move much and we're taught the steps carefully.

In this Zumba class, you don't get a ton of instructions. We just follow our teacher, Stephanie and mimic her movements as best as we can. She is very popular and there are now about 60 people signed up and growing. The time does fly by and I have to say I'm enjoying it a lot. It's fun to spend time with Renee and meet some of the women in the neighborhood. I think meeting new, friendly people is the best part of my Mondays now... even if I have to sweat to do it.

POSTSCRIPT: Sally wondered how much the class costs. I only take this class on Mondays although you can go twice a week, and then there's a toning class with weights, etc. It costs $30.00 for 10 lessons. Everytime you go, you sign in. When you've gone 10 times, you pay another $30.00. I really liked that since I am apt to miss lessons when we're on a trip or whatever.

Say It Isn't So, Greg Mortenson!

Did you watch 60 minutes last night about Greg Mortenson? I am devastated!

I read Three Cups of Tea which my son sent me and believed in Greg Mortenson. Here, I thought was finally a man who could altruistically do great things. President Obama gave $100,000 of his Nobel prize money to Mortenson's Central Asia Institute.

Now we find out that though he did some good things, he exaggerated or made up other things to make himself look good or sell his book.

Follow this link to the Daily Beast. How are we to know what to believe? I researched him before I sent my check. Nothing to show any sort of fraud. I couldn't very well go to Afghanistan to count how many schools he built. 60 Minutes did.

It's so very sad. He has done more harm with his lies than he can possibly know. I'm hoping he'll step up to the podium and explain himself. Maybe there's still hope. I still want to believe.

Supporting the Arts in Hawaii

Gail was my roommate in college way back when. She always loved music and made everybody sing, including me. Here, you can see how she got Diane and me singing at a wedding.

She became a high school biology teacher and then gave that up to teach piano full time because music was her greater joy. She and her husband raised their children to love music and they all became accomplished musicians, actors and teachers.


Gail called me recently to invite us to a musical afternoon on Saturday. She, her daughters, Jenny, and Cari along with opera mezzo-soprano Laurie Rubin have started a non-profit performing arts organization called Ohana Arts for the children of Hawaii.

Before the music began I just had to carry Gail's new, beautiful two week old granddaughter (her daughter, Kathy's baby). It felt so wonderful to carry that tiny sleepy baby.


Gail's daughter, Jenny introduced Laurie to the assembled audience and explained the Ohana Program.

Ohana Arts is a new 501(c)(3) non-profit organization dedicated to producing performing arts programs of the highest caliber in Hawaii.

New York-based musicians and Ohana Arts co-founders Laurie Rubin, mezzo-soprano and Jenny Taira, pianist/clarinetist are graduates of the Yale School of Music and have performed together nationally and internationally. Ms. Rubin has performed concerts with Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center and New York City Opera, and has given recitals at Carnegie Hall, Wigmore Hall in London, England, and the White House. Jenny Taira is an avid chamber musician, having co-founded the chamber music group, Musique à la Mode in NYC and having won top awards for her solo work. She has also performed in venues such as Carnegie Hall, Zipper Hall in Los Angeles, and the French Embassy in Washington D.C.


Laurie began her program with O Mio Babbino Caro from Gianni Schicchi by Giacomo Puccini. It's one of my favorite opera pieces and Laurie's performance was absolutely breath taking and flawless. It made me want to cry at the sheer beauty of the music.

Here's a YouTube clip so you can hear what she sounds like.



Laurie's voice is absolute magic and she is such a beautiful, warm person. And yes, people do tell her all the time that she looks like Barbra Streisand. You can't help but be drawn to her. Like my nephew, she is blind and has excelled in a very competitive, challenging field.

Art really loved You'll Never Walk Alone from Carousel and Memory from Cats. I was totally captivated with her Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen.


Here's a YouTube video of Laurie singing You Raise Me Up. (You'll have to raise the volume of your speakers because the sound is rather low.) She had to retire her guide dog, Mark last year and it was a difficult time for her. This song captures her sorrow and gratitude to her companion of seven and a half years. We were introduced to Popeye, her new poodle guide dog who was friskier (younger) than Mark.



Five minutes before she started the show I mentioned that I loved her rendition of the Josh Groban song on YouTube.

You can imagine my surprise when at the end of the show she sang You Raise Me Up for me as an encore.

Laurie and Jenny are doing these Living Room Concerts to introduce the community to their organization and to fund raise so they can create a place for the children of Hawaii to come and experience the joy of the performing arts.

With all their determination, talent and connections, I know they will be a success. Besides, if Gail could get me to sing on a stage, she and her family can do anything.

POSTSCRIPT: My daughter, Tiffany just wrote to say I should add the Ohanaarts website in case somebody would like to support them. I did put in the link but just in case, here it is again. info@ohanaarts.org.

Auntie Grace

We took my mom to see her sister earlier this week. Auntie Grace traveled with us to Japan last year. She and my mom had a rollicking good time. It was hilarious to watch them giggle and laugh together like little girls throughout the trip.

I took this photo of them on Wednesday as Auntie Grace showed off all the plants she was growing.


It amazes me how Auntie Grace can always appear to be so cheerful and seemingly carefree. She loves her plants, children, grandchildren and is devoted to everybody, friends and family alike. Mom says her sister is strong in spirit despite the enormous trials she's had to deal with.

She and mom were the eldest and probably had to sacrifice the most for the good of the family. However, they did it without showing any bitterness.

Amazes me.

I'm remembering that phone call I got from my mom in 2005. I remember the shock of it. We were returning from a trip and I was calling my mom from Chicago to tell her we were back.

"Jon died," Mom's anguish was palpable.
"No!" I was confused and shaken. Jon is my son. "I know Jon is fine, mom. I just talked to him a week ago."
"No, not Jon... Joan." Mom's accent is sometimes a little hard to understand. Joan is Auntie Grace's oldest daughter.
"What?" Now I was totally perplexed.
"My head is completely out of kilter," explained mom. "It's Charlotte. Charlotte just died."

I was stunned. Charlotte was my youngest cousin in Hawaii. How could this be? Charlotte lived with Auntie Grace and would often bring her mother to visit mine. Auntie and Charlotte loved traveling together. Apparently, Charlotte had suddenly died just a couple of days after returning from another trip she'd been on. She'd even driven herself to the hospital because she wasn't feeling well, but didn't want to bother anyone.

Auntie Grace refused to burden anyone with her grief although my mother says she knows how her sister was suffering. When we returned to Hawaii later, Auntie let down her guard as we looked at a photo of Charlotte and said, "She lied to me. I was angry with her. She promised to always take care of me, but she left me."

When we stayed at Eiheiji (one of the two main Buddhist temples in Japan) last year with Auntie Grace, we got up at 4 AM and were led to the ancient zazen (meditation) hall by our priests-in-training.

Mom says Auntie has always had a sixth sense and has had some really unexplainable things happen. At one point after the war, she was ill with typhus and may have died for a time.

"I'm not afraid to die," said Auntie. "I know what it's like."

When we left Eiheiji Auntie Grace said, "I was really shaken up during the zazen. I could feel my parents' presence. My father (Buddhist priest) said it was good that we made the trip. Then I could feel Charlotte's presence and I realized that it was her birthday. We've been traveling so much that I lost track of the days. But it is. It's Charlotte's birthday today."

Her heart seemed lighter.

Whenever I see Auntie Grace, I'm just so astonished at her cheerfulness. She keeps looking forward to the joys that life will offer along with the sorrows. She loves new experiences and traveling, her mind always open to learning. Granted, she's got her quirky side which endears her to everybody. She makes my mom laugh, and for that I'm always grateful.

"Try It, You'll Like It," Said Art-Thou-Art

"I do not like okra," I said. I have no desire to cook it or eat it.
"Try it, you might like it," insisted Art.

It did seriously remind me of Dr. Seuss' book, Green Eggs and Ham.

Our friends had asked us to watch their house and garden while they were gone. They really have green thumbs and had a bunch of cucumber and okra plants producing a bumper crop. I was all for eating the cucumbers but there were so many that we shared them with my aunts.

We also shared the okra with them and our neighbors. But there was so much! I couldn't believe how much okra just a few plants could produce. I wanted to give them all away, but Art insisted on checking out some recipes and cooking some. He likes okra.


There was still left over kahlua turkey stir fried with mustard cabbage, kabocha pumpkin, and cucumber namasu (sort of a pickled cucumber) that my mother prepared the night before. To that mom also stir fried some choi sum for our dinner.

Art then went to work. He prepared the okras two different ways. He pan fried the first bunch of okras with olive oil, garlic, salt and pepper. The second variation was to cook the okras in vinegar and brown sugar.

He then cooked up his anchovy omelet with peas. It's one of my mother's favorite dishes that he makes. I could not believe how much food I saw on our dinner table.

When I saw two pans full of okra I wasn't exactly enthused.

"Try it, you'll like it," said my mother. "It's slimy so it's healthy."

Hunh?

Out of courtesy to my husband I did. And you know what? It was really delicious! Surprisingly delicious!!! Now I'm sorry we gave so much of it away. The vinegar and brown sugar was the best I thought.

Therefore, I guess... (with apologies to Dr. Suess)

I will eat okra in a box.
And I will eat okra with a fox.
And I will eat okra in a house.
And I will eat okra with a mouse.
And I will eat okra here and there.
Say! I will eat okra ANYWHERE!

I do so like okra!
Thank you!
Thank you,
Art-Thou-Art!

POSTSCRIPT: By the way, here's the video of Jesse Jackson reading Green Eggs and Ham. Cracks me up everytime.

Theory: Why the Japanese Aren't Looting

I got the following information from my cousin, Walt. He's the brainiac cousin who leaves comments with a wry sense of humor which keeps me on my toes. If I make a mistake he's going to catch it. Granted, he's also polite so he might not tell me. Nah, he would. Actually, his siblings are also all accomplished and always there for me here in Hawaii. It's nice. I like it.

So many people have been marveling at the amazing way the Japanese are conducting themselves at this terrible time. This article does shed some light on the situation. However, this piece is much longer than my usual posts. Please read this only if you have the time.

Why The Japanese Aren't Looting
By Thomas Lifson

Foreign observers are noting with curiosity and wonder that the Japanese people in disaster-plagued areas are not looting for desperately-needed supplies like bottled water. This behavior contrasts sharply with what has so often happened in the wake of catastrophes elsewhere, such as Haiti, New Orleans, Chile, and the UK, to name only a few. Most people chalk up the extraordinary good behavior to Japanese culture, noting the legendary politeness of Japanese people in everyday life.

Culture does play a role, but it is not an adequate explanation. After all, in the right circumstances, Japanese mass behavior can rank with the worst humanity has to offer, as in the Rape of Nanking. There are clearly other factors at work determining mass outbreaks of good and bad behavior among the Japanese, and for that matter, anyone else.

There are, in fact, lessons to be learned from the Japanese good behavior by their friends overseas, lessons which do not require wholesale adoption of Japanese culture, from eating sushi to sleeping on tatami mats. It is more a matter of social structure than culture keeping the Japanese victims of catastrophe acting in the civilized and enlightened manner they have displayed over the past few days.

The Cruise Ship and the Ferryboat

Many years ago, a worldly and insightful Japanese business executive offered me an analogy that gets to heart of the forces keeping the Japanese in line, that has nothing to do with culture. "Japanese people," he told me, "are like passengers on a cruise ship. They know that they are stuck with the same people around them for the foreseeable future, so they are polite, and behave in ways that don't make enemies, and keep everything on a friendly and gracious basis."

"Americans," he said, "are like ferryboat passengers. They know that at the end of a short voyage they will get off and may never see each other again. So if they push ahead of others to get off first, there are no real consequences to face. It is every man for himself."

Despite the existence of massive cities like Tokyo, Osaka, and Nagoya, people in their neighborhoods are well known to those around them. There is little urban anonymity. When I first lived in Japan on a work visa and had my own apartment in a residential neighborhood of Tokyo, in 1971, I was paid a friendly visit by a local policeman. It was a completely routine matter: police are required to keep track of every resident of their beats, and they want to know the basics, such as your work, your age, and your living circumstances. In my circumstances, immigration papers were also of concern, but for Japanese, it would be the koseki, a mandatory official family record kept on a household basis, reporting births, acknowledgements of paternity, adoptions, disruptions of adoptions, deaths, marriages and divorces. Every Japanese is not just an individual, he or she is officially is a member of a household (ie), and the state keeps track.

Following the gathering of my information, the policeman no doubt returned to his local substation (koban), which are found every few blocks in urban areas, to record the information for his colleagues. To an American it seemed quite extraordinary, a violation of privacy. But in Japan a lack of anonymity is the norm.

Soon after the beat cop's visit to me, local merchants began nodding to me as I walked to and from the train station, as if they knew me and acknowledged me. I was fairly certain the word had gone out via omawari san (literally, the honorable gentleman who walks around, a polite colloquial euphemism for the police) that I was a Japanese-speaking American in Japan on legitimate, respectable grounds. For a year or so, I was a member of the community.

The Tohoku Region (literally: the Northeast, in practice, the island of Honshu north of Tokyo) where the earthquake and tsunami hit hardest, is far less urbanized than the rest of the main island of Honshu, and has for many decades seen an exodus of young people to the big cities elsewhere in Japan. Going back to the feudal era (i.e., pre-1868), Tohoku was poorer than the other regions of Japan because its northern climate can support only one crop of rice per year, rather than the two (and in the warmest places, even three) which were cultivated in the rest of Japan. Since Japan's industrialization, Tohoku's relative poverty has diminished, but it is still less economically developed and more rural than its neighbors to the south and west in Japan, and has relatively little in-migration from other parts of Japan.

The main city of Tohoku, the green and (once) lovely city of Sendai, had a million people and a state of the art subway, but is a city of neighborhoods with little anonymity. In the smaller cities and villages, it is almost impossible to misbehave and not be recognized by one's neighbors.

Anthropologists speak of Japan as a "shame culture," as opposed to a "guilt culture," meaning that people are constrained to behave themselves properly by an aversion to being judged negatively by those around them, rather than internalizing a moral imperative. Broadly speaking, that is true today. But it is also true that most contemporary Japanese have internalized a deep respect for private property, that is manifested in a ritual of modern life for children, one which we might do well to emulate. When a child finds a small item belonging to another person, even a one yen coin, a parent takes the child to the local koban and reports lost property. As chronicled by T.R. Reid in his wonderful book about living in Tokyo, Confucius Lives Next Door, the police do not resent this as a waste of time but rather see it as part of moral education, solemnly filling out the appropriate forms, thanking the child and telling him or her if the owner does not appear to claim the item, it will revert to the finder after a certain period of time.

Perhaps more successfully than any other people of the world, the Japanese have evolved a social system capable of ensuring order and good behavior. The vast reservoir of social strength brought Japan through the devastation of World War II, compared to which even the massive problems currently afflicting it, are relatively small. Japan has sustained a major blow, but its robust social order will endure, and ultimately thrive.

Thomas Lifson is editor and publisher of American Thinker. In his academic career, he taught East Asian Studies at Harvard and he was a visiting professor at Japan's National Museum of Ethnology, among other scholarly activities.

Pugslee

I remember that time 11 years ago when Art and I were visiting in Hawaii with our kids.

My brother, Dennis was frustrated and unhappy that his wife and three sons wanted a dog.

"They don't understand how hard it would be to take care of a dog in a small apartment," he moaned. "They'd better not expect me to be the one to take care of him."

Despite his protests he was outnumbered and the family somehow made room for Pugslee.

As it turned out, he was right. He did end up being the one to take care of Pugslee most of the time.

Dennis and I did not have a dog when we were growing up. Our dog, Jimmy died before we entered kindergarten.

I don't think Dennis knew much about owning a dog, but he learned fast. He ended up being the one who took Pugslee out for most of his walks and bathroom breaks. Pugslee was there for all their joys and heartbreaks. My sister-in-law, Nancy remembered that when she lost her parents, Pugslee seemed to understand and comfort her by placing his head on her knees, looking mournfully into her eyes and letting her know he was there for her.

"He's actually the best dog," Dennis would tell me seriously. "He's really smart."

Several months ago, something seemed to be wrong. Pugslee was fat when he was younger and the joke was he looked more like a little piglet. Now he was thin, his bowels were watery and he kept losing weight. The vet prescribed medicine, but eventually they found he had stomach cancer.


The vet said they would know when it would be time to say goodbye. Dennis spent a lot of time perfecting the technique to catch the watery stools that came spraying out.

"It's not time yet," he kept telling me. "His tail still wags when he sees me. He's happy. Pugslee is not suffering. I know he still enjoys being with us."

They fed him his favorite foods. They gave him loads of extra attention all the while cleaning up after him and airing out the apartment.

This past Sunday, Dennis and Nancy walked in with large bags of premium dog food and a clean doggie dish.

And it hit me.

"We had to let him go yesterday," Nancy said with eyes glistening. "He stopped eating for a couple of days. We had to take him in. We were all there with him. Bear and Cody came too."

My brother, usually the stoic said, "It hurts too much."

"Do you have somebody you can give the dog dish to?" Nancy asked.

"No," I answered. "I think I'll keep it. We might get a dog someday."

"No," said Art. "Absolutely not! We have no room for a dog. We travel too much. I refuse to be the one to end up taking care of it. Don't even think about it."