Gunshots?

I got up a little late the other morning because I hadn't been getting enough sleep for the last few days. I guess I might not get as much sleep as Art who drops off to sleep the minute his head hits the pillow, but I do get more deep sleep.

As he prepared our breakfast oatmeal, he asked, "Did you hear the fireworks this morning about 5:30?" 

"Is it those miscreants down the street again?" I asked.

"No," he answered. "It was in the other direction this time."

We have these idiots who shoot off aerials or really loud concussion bombs very late at night every so often. It's irritating as heck! I guess I didn't hear a thing since I was out cold even though we sleep with our windows open.

Anyway, I digress...

Art left our oatmeal to cool and we started our morning walk. We try to get out there before the sun is up.

What a surprise to see a whole bunch of police cars lining the road and yellow crime scene tape in the driveway.

Neighbors were out of the house coming to tell us the news.

Apparently they ALL knew... the whole street knew that there was a greenhouse in the back of that neighbor where marijuana was being grown. They all mentioned how they could smell pot whenever they were outside.

Really? (Maybe it was for medicinal purposes?)

And then this morning... almost all of them knew they were gunshots and not firecrackers. Hey... Art was in the Air Force for 6 years and he thought they were firecrackers. 

I have an excuse for not smelling the pot. I haven't been able to smell anything for the past decade as most of you know.

Oops! Digressing again.

Anyway, one of the officers asked me what I knew. Uuummm.... "I know nothing. I know nothing." I didn't even hear the gunfire.

Turns out somebody had come by in a vehicle and shot at the house and the truck or whatever. Neighbors have outdoor cameras so they were going to look at the videos. (Those were big gunshot holes in their truck!)

Good grief! Granted, we lived for 35 years near Chicago, but we're in sleepy Hawaii now. I didn't expect to hear gunfire in our neighborhood.

Sheesh!

Who Was Your Best Childhood Friend?

Myra's Question of the Day:

Who was your best childhood friend?

OK. This is very hard, very, very hard. There are so many best friends in childhood. I've mentioned Diane before. She lived closest to me. We knew each other since kindergarten and ran free in each other's homes while living in the sugar plantation housing. When I moved to Chicago, she kept up a steady stream of letters to keep my spirits up. She even sent me a tape of firecrackers going off at New Years. Mom says we are more like sisters. Diane and I only have brothers so it was lovely to have that special bond.

However, and that is a big HOWEVER. There were so many friends that we both played with and were very close to while growing up. There was Mavis, Karen, Yvonne, Joanne, Susan, Myra, Jasmine, Janet, Stephanie, Beverly, Mary, Carol, Annie Laurie, Helen, Myrna, Sharon, Ruth... (and a few guys too).

We all hung out together depending on what classes we shared. Friends we cherished in high school also fed in from other elementary schools so there was a wide variety of people we all loved spending time with.

The funny thing is... I was a mediocre student. I did moderately OK, but not great like those friends I mentioned. I remember someone telling me they thought I was smart because I was always hanging out with the smart kids. I guess it's true that you are judged by the company you keep. And I did keep company with an exceptional bunch of people...

...just as I do now not just in regular life, but cyber life as well. How about you? Did you have special friendships?

What Responsibilities Did You Have as a Kid?

Here is another question from my friend, Myra.

What responsibilities did your parents require of you as a child?  

Explain how this affected your growth and development.

For some reason the first thing that comes to mind is being made to clean all the baseboards in our sugar plantation house once a week. I wonder why. I mentioned it to Art and he said he remembers the same thing growing up on the Big Island! He and his sister even had to crawl under the bed to clean the baseboards. I don't think we had to do that. I'll have to ask my brother, Dennis. He is three years younger so maybe he (like Art) was the smaller one and was assigned to do it.

Dennis: I had to clean the dust from under the bed, sweep up the mango and avocado tree leaves, polish shoes, clean the window screens and take food scraps to the slop can. (He says the baseboards were my job.)

I had to iron the family clothes. Dennis didn't have to do that but he was taught how. I was quite good at ironing which came in handy when I had to iron Art's Public Health uniforms which he was required to wear every Wednesday and his business shirts and pants for the rest of the week.

I know that I was sent to the temple sewing school so I could sew my own clothes until I went to college. Knowing how to sew came in handy when my kids were little and I could sew some of their clothes and later costumes for them. It also came in handy when I ended up making almost 400 masks for the past year and a half.

Now then... baseboards. 

I never clean them. Never. And we never asked our kids to clean them. 

How about you? What chores did you have? Did it help in your growth or as an adult?

New Coke Zero

It was my son-in-law who introduced me to Coke Zero several years ago. It's not supposed to have sugar. Yes, I know it has aspartame which isn't good either, but I can't help myself and I have a can every other day. It's every other day because Art watches to make sure I don't over-indulge. I liked the flavor better than other diet drinks because it didn't have as much of that diet taste.

It's true that I've lost my sense of smell (no, not from COVID) and a lot of my sense of taste. But I still liked what I could taste of Coke Zero.

I'd bought a new carton of Coke Zero and was surprised to see they'd changed the look of the carton and the can. Well... I liked the black design and color of the old Coke Zero better and then I discovered it was supposed to be a new flavor. 

What? When I tasted that new Coke Zero, I told Art it had a diet taste and I didn't like it. Actually, it's supposed to be sweeter.

Uuuummm... I shared a can with Art today, and realized later that I didn't even remember why I didn't like it. I don't even remember what the difference in flavors was of the Old and New Coke Zeros. 

Oh wait, wait. I do remember. The New Coke Zero didn't have as much of a bite to it. And I liked the bite.

Ahh well... I guess it doesn't matter since my memory and sense of taste are kaputs.  Ah well, I think it's just the fizz I like.

An Easy Mark?

Yup. That must have been me when we first started traveling. I was an easy mark for every pickpocket in foreign countries. I was far too trusting and oblivious to the danger.

The first time was Paris in 1997. It was the first trip Art and I took without the kids.

Here's what I wrote in my travel book:

Marche Aux Puces de St. Owen Flea Market

While we were at the flea market, I was set up for a pickpocket sting. The area was crowded and two or three men separated me from Art. Actually, I thought it was 7 or 8. Art insists it was more like two. A cigarette was brushed against the sleeve of my brand new coat and while the fellow was apologizing profusely, another thief had opened my backpack. Too bad for the thieves, my purse was at the very bottom. He didn't seem to want my Pepto Bismol or my Alka Seltzer or my pencils or my Kleenex. The only problem was... now I was PARANOID! I saw every black jacketed man as after my Kleenex.

I had been so proud of my new (more expensive than my usual bags) Coach backpack, but now I saw it was not a smart travel choice.

Then came our trip to Spain in 2000. 

It happened after we'd been to Plaza Mayor. 

We learned that in 1478, Catholic monarchs Ferdinand and Isabella (of the Columbus story) started the Spanish Inquisition. There would eventually be torture and  executions at the Plaza Mayor.

Anyway... I digress. This is what I wrote in my journal after we left Plaza Mayor.

And then it happened AGAIN: We had just gotten off at our metro stop when 3 men dressed in black somehow figured out we were tourists 🙄 and began to stalk me. I didn't know. I was walking ahead through a crowd on a very busy street. A couple of thugs positioned themselves in back of me to separate me from Art. The third assailant stepped on Art's foot to distract him and pointed for him to look down. Art figured it out by then and keeping his eyes on me shouted my name. When I turned around and heard his voice, the hoodlums figured the gig was up and walked quickly away through the crowd. I was REALLY paranoid by then and kept my eyes open for any unshaven men in black clothing. 

OK... What the heck! I wasn't even wearing a backpack that time. Art didn't trust me. And my winter jacket was zipped up. 

And then came the 3rd time someone tried to pickpocket me. This time it was Portugal.

I was standing in a crowded tram and felt a nudge on my back. I turned around quickly and saw a very startled, very drunk guy (not wearing black, by the way) trying to unzip the front of my backpack. I yelled, "What do you think you're doing?" which he obviously didn't understand, but got off quickly at the next stop.

I'd gotten a better backpack with a hidden side zipper that time. The front pocket only carried a notebook and a pen.

And that was it!

I haven't gotten hit again. Knock on wood. But I really have learned to be more observant and cautious when we travel. And I do try to keep that oblivious look off my face.

I try.

And I now swing my backpack to the front in crowded places and carry very little. (Besides, we like to travel with tours these days which feels safer.)

Besides, I don't want anyone else trying to run off with my Kleenex. 

POSTSCRIPT:

It just occurred to me that I actually don't carry any backpack while on travel these days. I'd totally forgotten since it's been a while since I've traveled. My memory is so bad.

This was 2018 in Germany.

I now use a travel vest with 15 pockets. I know. I know. It's a crazy amount of pockets and I sometimes forget where those Kleenex are, but it feels a ton safer even though I look rather chunky.

How Did You Learn to Drive?

My good friend, Myra just fired off more questions for me. 

She said a lot of them came from a book her daughter gave her called Reflections from a Mother's Heart.

This question was:

How did you learn to drive? What was your first car like?

There were a lot of fits and starts to my learning to drive. I didn't learn to drive in high school like a lot of friends did. When I got married, Art tried to teach me to drive his VW bug. It was a stick shift and I sort of remember driving right over that little barrier bump at the front of the parking space. It was not a happy thing.

My think my brother tried too. Tried.

When we moved to Illinois and our children were ready for preschool I needed to join a carpool. To be part of that carpool, I would have to learn to drive. Art was busy at work, so what to do.

My super wonderful friend, Peggy said I just needed to learn and that was it. She said she would go out with me and she did... many times.

Peggy is very calm and not much fazed her. But there was that time at the red light where I needed to make a left turn. I forgot if it was the right or the left turn that you could do after checking the traffic. So I went. Yes, people were honking at me. But did that stop Peggy from going out with me again? Nope.

Now THAT is a good friend.

Peggy also took me to get my license. I still can't believe I passed. Thank goodness they didn't ask me to parallel park. 

And because she taught me to drive, it opened up my life. I was eventually able to go back to teaching. Thank goodness the school was only about 7.5 minutes away with only two easy left turns without a light to confuse me. 

At my retirement party, the school staff sang a rather hilarious song that was written for me to the tune of M.T.A. (sung by the Kingston Trio)

The chorus was:

We know our eyes will burn,

And our hearts will yearn...

Kay won't teach at our school anymore (Oh my!)

She may ride forever

'round the streets of Chicago--

She's a driver, who doesn't left turn!

But now, I'm in Hawaii and you know what? I can't seem to find the courage to drive. Sigh...  I need Peggy to come and smile me through it again.

I never actually had a car of my own. The first car I considered more mine was a lavender Camry. (Neither Art nor our teenage son wanted to drive it.) We thought it was silver when we saw the color chip in the dealership. The other teachers (lovingly) called it the Easter egg car.

How about you? How did you learn to drive?

Lock Down Project

Being stuck at home due to Delta is frustrating but it's scary to be out in Hawaii right now. If a mainlander were to look at our numbers, it might not shock them. However, you have to remember that we are a small state. Right now we have at least 6,656 ACTIVE cases floating about on our small island of Oahu. And that's only the ones we know about. 

So I'm stuck at home. Sigh... 

However, the pandemic did give me time to work on my Family History Photobook project I wrote about earlier. 

I began compiling all the family information from Art's and my family histories. This book contained family notes from both our fathers and mothers side of the family and compressed them into one book. Since our kids were brought up on the mainland, they really didn't know everybody here in Hawaii. This is a one stop guide.

I thought this project would take me to the end of the pandemic in 2020.

But no...

I was still stuck at home so I started a new family photo project.

I'd scanned all the family photos a long time ago.

I thought I'd now choose representative photos and organize them from 1972-2021... almost 50 years worth that is, and do photobooks with back stories for all the photos.

But there's so much I'd forgotten! Luckily, I recorded quite a bit in my many journals. But it wasn't enough. I was sometimes too busy to record what was happening. However, I discovered some information in the newsletters I used to send out at the end of the year to family and friends. Another surprising thing was that when I was first introduced to the computer and emails, I was afraid to lose that information so I actually printed important emails for a couple of years and put them in a binder. 

Many photos before 1997 were not great. I didn't have a good camera and didn't want to lug around Art's bigger Pentax. Therefore, it required quite a bit a LOT of Photoshop correction. And yet, since there weren't a ton of photos, it was something I could deal with.

In 2000, digital pictures produced better photos, but now we had too many and just kept them on DVDs which I had uploaded to the external drive. And a few years later, we stopped keeping most of them and just texted them back and forth.

Well... I'm on 2001 right now. But I can see those new problems arising. Once the kids left home, I don't have most of those photos. Ah well... That will actually make it easier for me. 

All this is just to let you know why my blog posts and visiting has been iffy these past weeks/months? with us being stuck at home and having my brain focused on this project all day.

I'm hoping this project will keep me busy until the pandemic is over. Otherwise, I might have to start organizing my closets again.

Memories of Plantation Life: Part 2

I texted my brother, Dennis about what plantation life was like when we were young and we began to reminisce back and forth. His memories are a lot more detailed than mine.

When someone asked us where we lived, we said, "Up Camp." This referred to the sugar plantation camp that you had to walk/drive up a hill to get to. There were mostly Japanese laborers there and that was our world.

Our rented plantation home had two bedrooms and an additional very teeny bedroom where my father's mother would stay when she came to visit. My grandmother had me dye her hair black with a toothbrush every so often which was an interesting job for a kid. 

Whenever my grandmother would come to visit, she'd bring us a Cracker Jack box with the little toy inside. Dennis and I always loved playing hanafuda with her. It was a Japanese card game. My mother didn't say anything, but didn't like it because it was often played for gambling which her father (zen priest in Sendai) was against. We only played for toothpicks so it was all right.

Across the bumpy dirt road was a banana field. I don't know if it belonged to anyone.

The sugar mill would unload a huge mound of bagasse across the street from our house for people to use in their gardens. I don't have a photo of a fresh pile. (Bagasse is the pulpy fibrous material that remains after crushing sugar cane or sorghum stalks to extract their juice.) And yes, that’s me… a lifetime ago.

Dennis: "The bagasse that was dropped was fresh from the crushers so it was moist and would generate heat from residual juices fermenting in the middle of the pile... and yes we did dig into them to see how hot it got.  As the pile dried out and aged there would occasionally be big mushrooms that sprouted on the piles. After the bagasse was dried out enough, the neighborhood kids would slide down the pile on cardboard sheets."

Dennis worked in the sugar cane fields for two summers and one summer at the Waipahu sugar mill.

Dennis: I had the unpleasant task of going into one of the crushers that was shut down to clean out some of the debris. Even though it was down for only an hour we could smell the alcohol from the fermenting cane.

We had two food trucks that made regular runs on our street. Ummm... I only remember the candy truck guy because I loved LOOK candy (nougat bar covered with chocolate) that sold for 5 cents. Since we only got a quarter a week allowance, it was a huge expenditure.

Dennis: Red (newer) truck with the younger guy who sold veggies and candy (better selection) and green (older) truck with an older man that sold some candy but was stocked more with the veggies, fish and meat." 

It seemed to us during those olden days that everybody had a huge mango tree. 

According to my brother the huge mango tree in our neighbor's yard was so huge that when they fell you could hear the thud. I remember it not having a good taste. Maybe that's why it was called Cigar Mango.

We apparently had the only Common Mango tree around. People liked it because it was perfect for pickling. I remember people in trucks stopping on the roadside and picking our mangoes (often not asking) with fruit pickers. Actually we were glad because there were so many mangoes that it was a bother to clean up. You can see the carport covered with mangoes. That's mom going into the car.

The sugar cane field was just two doors down from us. It was quite a sight when they would burn the cane. Black ash particles would fall from the sky like snow. If anybody had their laundry out... ouch!

And then there were those chicken fights. I sort of remember groups of men huddled in a large circle having chickens fighting each other. They didn't let us go close so I don't know all the ins and outs of it. I know there was one neighbor who kept these cages with chickens in them. I don't know if they were for eggs or upcoming feathered fighters.

What we took for granted then was parents not worrying when their kids explored all over the camp. We walked quite a distance on our own to go to school. 

My brother and I climbed up our tall mango tree without a care. It's amazing we didn't fall. We would climb out the window onto the carport roof and then onto the overhanging mango tree limb and then up the trunk and branches to the top. And now being on top of a ferris wheel scares me. (Where were our parents? At work. I don't think they knew the risks my brother and I took.)

Ah well... I'd better stop now. This could go on forever, especially if I'm talking to my brother.

POSTSCRIPT:

OK... I had closed this post and my brother kept texting. 

• The plantation homes were probably painted with lead paint. The ceilings were constructed with canec (fiberboard made with sugar cane bagasse containing arsenic) that would sag a bit when it got damp.
• The dirt roads were sprayed with bunker oil to control the dust. It would make going to school difficult since we had to jump over really oily spots. Bunker oil is a thick, viscous and almost black fuel that was used to fire the boilers in the steam generators. We used to pass one of the holding tanks when we walked to school. Remember, after crossing the cane haul road we'd go down a tall wooden staircase that was next to a tank that had the bunker oil stored in it.
• Bunker oil and bagasse were burned to create electricity for plant operations.
• Diluted sulfuric acid mixed with diesel fuel was used for weed control.
• Clouds of DDT were sprayed into the air for mosquito abatement. Sometimes, kids would run in that white cloud of DDT thinking it was like fog which they'd never seen before except in movies. We only did it once. Didn’t follow the truck though. It didn’t smell like it was good for you so didn’t do it again.

OK... So much for a Hawaiian idyllic childhood.

Memories of Plantation Life: Part 1

This is another question that my dear friend, Myra had for me. 

Did you have a collection when you were growing up? What initially sparked your interest in it?

Art's parents owned the Sweet Shoppe (small mom and pop diner) on the Big Island so his life was very different from mine. He had a stamp, coin and comic collection. But then Art asked, "Didn't you collect other things? Bugs? Rocks?"

No, definitely not. Where would I put it? Our rented plantation homes had little room for such things. So I started texting my brother asking if we ever had a collection and we started to have this long conversation.

Dennis: We only kept things that were to be used like tools and dishes. We didn't collect for the sake of creating a collection. We just didn't throw away things.

Me: I'm running out of stuff to write about.  I need help.

Dennis: Plantation living?

Me: Uuuuummm... liiiike what?

Dennis: Single wall houses where everybody had gardens in the backyard. The higashi/nishi split on Managers Drive (a big paved road with big houses unlike the dirt roads and small houses on the plantation housing side).

Me: Higashi/Nishi (East/West) split? I didn't know there was a split. 

Dennis: The dividing line was Managers Drive. Soto Mission (Zen) Temple on the Nishi side, Hongwanji Temple on the other. Only supervisors or lunas (plantation overseers) were living on Managers Drive. The cane field was like a moat to separate the big bosses from us riff raff. Dr. Noda (plantation doctor) lived on the ewa side of the plantation manager's home. Remember the Christmas parties up there on the hill?

Me: That I remember. They gave gifts to the poor plantation kids. I got a big fancy doll dressed like a bride. Mom put it in a plastic case so I could never play with it.

Dennis: Well, don't make it sound too segregated. But no haoles (Whites) on the camp side, right? There were no haoles in the camp because there were no haole laborers. The haoles were higher ups. And kids tended to stay on their own side of Managers Drive. I remember camp kids taking old metal skates and nailing it to a board to make a skateboard. When a haole kid named Ryan came with a real skateboard with plastic wheels, we assumed his folks were super rich. 

It's really interesting talking to Dennis about the past. I tended to stay in our little area of the plantation camp and all my friends were almost exclusively on the Nishi side of Managers Drive until I started high school. Dennis tended to wander everywhere and had friends everywhere. He is like an encyclopedia of old time Hawaii's plantation life. I'll have to ask him what else he knows and remembers that I don't. That should fill an encyclopedia. 

Do You Have a Nickname?

This is another question from my good friend, Myra. I've actually written about this before but I'm hoping you've forgotten.

Who gave me my nickname and why? Did I have a family nickname? 

It was my Aunt Sally who named me Kay. My mother had been in Hawaii for only a year when I was born, married to a man she'd never met before. It was a difficult birth. I was born premature and apparently she was unconscious at the time. Therefore, my father's family decided to name me themselves.

Apparently, because my last name was so long, they decided to give me the shortest name they could think of. I never liked my name when I was growing up because it was so short that you couldn't do anything with it. So... no cute nickname.

However, one day in high school I remember someone (a friend, I think) saying I should be called Yak (Kay spelled backwards) because I was talking so much. 🙄 

My parents would call me Kay, but if my mother was angry with me she'd call, "Natsu E!" My middle name was Natsue (pronounced nah-tsu-eh) which means summer. That emphasis on that last syllable alerted me to my being in trouble. Mom never liked my middle name either saying it was too simplistic. My relatives in Japan lovingly called me Natchan.

When she was pregnant with my brother, mom was prepared with the perfect names for him. His name was Dennis. But he was often called Danny Boy by the family. And his middle name translated means blessing or grace. Yup. Lovely name. Sigh...

The ironic thing is that I married a man with an even longer name. However that didn't stop us from giving our children names that they could modify in lots and lots of ways.

How about you? Do you know how you got your name? Do you have a nickname?

Crisis Standards of Care? What?!?

First it was Governor Ige mandating earlier that hospitals could not be sued for giving inadequate care to COVID patients. OK... I guess since we're running out of ICU beds and medical staff, this couldn't be helped. I was thinking of all those unvaccinated people who this would affect.

Oops! But then we saw this in the Sunday paper. What? You know it's mostly seniors who've been trying to follow the rules and getting vaccinated for the good of everybody, right? 

It turns out there's something Hawaii calls "Crisis Standards of Care." Apparently anyone 65 years and older could be denied medical assistance. And you know seniors do get break through infections, right? Especially now that our vaccinations are slowly becoming less effective as time wears on and we're being exposed to the Delta variant running rampant in the islands.

AND on the side bar of the paper was this article about Honolulu's first responders.

Apparently 51% of our police officers, firefighters, paramedics and ocean safety workers are using health or religious faith as their reason for getting exempted from taking the vaccination.

What kind of religion would ask you not to take the vaccination? The pope himself has come out saying everyone has a moral obligation to be vaccinated.

This is the link to the Vatican News.

Other religious leaders in Hawaii put out a full page ad in the Star Advertiser.

This was from Hawaii News Now:

"Some 95 pastors and priests have written an open letter in the Star-Advertiser urging the public to get their shot to protect against COVID-19. Those who signed the letter represent various religious organizations from different religions that serve thousands of church goers."

I can tell you that our Buddhist Temple advocates masks and vaccines for the good of all.

I don't understand which religion is saying you shouldn't get the vaccine or why. Even Jehovah's Witness changed their view of vaccination in 1952. 

ALSO from the Star Advertiser:

"Jeffrey Harris, an attorney who handles labor issues at Torkildson, Katz, Hetherington, Harris & Knorek, said he supports Honolulu's mandate, which he considers perfectly legal.

The mandate could have been more stringent, because the city "has no constitutional obligation to offer any religious exemption to its COVID-19 vaccination mandate," Harris told the Star-Advertiser. He cited a legal precedent that determined "the right to practice religion freely does not include liberty to expose the  community or the child to communicable disease or the latter to ill health or death."

And then there's the Health exemption. OK. That I can see. IF your doctor says you should not get it, that is understandable and valid.

Let me tell you if I ever have to call the police, fire department, or paramedics I will double mask. I don't have to worry about ocean safety since my kids know I don't go into the ocean much at all. 😄

We're going to have to be really, really especially careful with mom since she'll be 92 in a month. Granted she might be healthier than Art or me. I sure hope we get those boosters soon. 🤞 And I hope they give them to seniors first since we could be last for getting medical care or no care at all.

Gutter Garden!

I was looking out my 2nd floor window and saw an alarming sight!

There were weeds overflowing out of our gutter. You know this is bad news because it was probably clogging up the downspout too.

"I'll just get the ladder and pull it out," said Art. 

I told my daughter and she put her foot (finger?) down. "Absolutely not, Dad!" she texted. 

I already said the same thing but there's nothing like our daughter to really put the kibosh on these risky escapades Art thinks he can do.

So now I had to look for somebody to clean gutters. Unfortunately this was a rather small job (I thought) and contractors don't like small jobs. In addition, we live in a two story home and the roof is really high.

I looked on Yelp. (I HATE LOOKING FOR HOME MAINTENANCE COMPANIES.)

The first company I called was Envirowash Hawaii. Mike was very nice and said he would come by on Saturday between 8-9. He had very  good reviews. There were a few reviews that said he did not show up for appointments. Sure enough. We waited and waited and he didn't show.

We'd also called Precision Cleaning. The owner said the job was actually too small for his company, but his son could do it. His son?  

What the heck... I gave Ku a call and really liked talking to him. He told us when he'd stop by, SHOWED UP, and gave us a quote which we were satisfied with. We considered getting another quote, but decided to go with our (my) gut.

Ku showed up for the job exactly when he said he would. 

I asked him if he would take some photos for my blog and he said he would be happy to. 

You've got to like anybody willing to help you with your blog.

Art says Ku thought there was about 60 pounds of wet debris collected from all the gutters.

He cleaned all the gutters, but one of the most reassuring, very happy things we saw was how he actually did tether himself to the roof. We've had other workers on the roof who are supposed to protect themselves and don't, which scares me silly.

Our gutters are cleaned. Ku did say we needed to add a downspout and saw that there hadn't been enough gutter supports installed as well. Apparently, water was pooling in the gutter and the birds were using it for a bird bath.

Aggravation! The fellow who installed the gutters did not do an adequate job. The 2nd person who came to fix it said the first fellow did a crappy job (We know. We know) and then charged us extra (because it was a small job) and apparently didn't actually finish the job. 😣Sigh...

Whatever the case, the gutters are now nice and clean.  I thought the job would take him about an hour and a half, but he REALLY cleaned it and was here for over 3 hours in that hot sun. Amazing! And he charged us exactly what he quoted. 😀

Ku also said he cleans solar panels with di water.  (DI water is water that has had all of the ions removed. Ions are charged particles, meaning they have a positive or negative electrical charge. Many of the impurities in water are dissolved salts, a type of ion.)

You can text him too. He's very good about responding.

And the reason why I called this post the gutter garden...

Can you believe there was THIS much dirt in the gutter? I imagine the pigeons and mynahs were adding their bit of poopy fertilizer to make the gutter garden even more fertile.

I have a feeling we'll be seeing Ku next year and I think we might have to ask him to clean the solar panels as well because those pigeons are using the panels as their personal toilet. 😝

Remembering 9/11 (My Blog Post from September 11, 2010)

 I wrote this blog post in 9/11/2010 and thought it was worth reposting.

I Have Met the Enemy...

Art saw the Star-Advertiser (The Big Q) poll results yesterday morning and had to read it twice. Then he asked me to read it and I had to check it twice.

The question on the previous day was:
Do you think a Florida pastor's plan to burn copies of the Quran in memory of the September 11, 2001 terror attacks is an advisable way to make his point?
A. Yes 77% B. No 23% (of 2,854 total replies)

I was so shocked by this that I contacted the Star-Advertiser editor and got this e-mail back immediately.

Yes, Kay, we checked to make sure we weren't being spammed, and it appears that that was the actual result.

Aloha,

Mark Coleman
Editorial staff

Then coincidentally, I got this following e-mail from my son, Keola's girlfriend.

Hi! 

Keola mentioned that you'd written a blog posting about the 9/11 controversies, and I thought you might be interested in this New York Times article: 

I hope this gets widely read -- it reminded me of all the wonderful Muslims we came to know and love in Mali.

Hope everything is going well ....

Love, Sarah (Sarah is now my daughter-in-law)

Keola and Sarah were both volunteers with the Peace Corps in Mali, West Africa. I agree with Sarah; everybody should read this article, particularly those 77% who shamefully voted Yes.

Could 77% of the people in Hawaii actually have felt that the whole Muslim religion is at fault for 9-11 and that it is justifiable to burn their holy book? Do they really feel that this is an advisable way to promote peace? Perhaps they just want some sort of misguided justice? Did they read the question wrong? Could it be that it is a certain kind of population that would vote for such a stupid thing?

I know it was wrong of me, but as I walked around at different places in Hawaii today and smiled at all those friendly faces, I wondered...

I know I have met the enemy, as the comic strip character, Pogo said,

and he is us.

Passing on a Family Custom?

Here is another of my friend, Myra's questions.  

What family custom would you like to pass on to your children and grandchildren?

All our traditional customs that we passed on to our kids are really the usual American customs. However I wanted to repeat the family motto that my zen priest grandfather passed down to his children and I hope my children and grandchildren will follow.

The first is "arigatai." This is to be thankful. We tried to instill this in our children. And I know they are instructing their children to be grateful for everything they have and that they will show their appreciation for anything that is given them or done for them.

The second family motto is "mottainai."  Do not be wasteful. I can guarantee that Art is the epitome of not being wasteful. I'm hoping our kids are teaching our grandkids to not be wasteful of anything. I know that after our son went to Mali with the Peace Corps he especially learned that lesson.

The third and last is "sumimasen." Pardon me or I'm sorry. I remember my aunt laughing and saying, "I couldn't understand then why I needed to apologize if I didn't do anything." 

I think he was just trying to teach his family to be humble and gracious toward everyone. This is something our country needs now... badly.

Hmmm... wait.... family custom? I hope my kids will keep a journal of their thoughts. I know I stopped that when I began my blog, but I think keeping a journal is really helpful. One advice is to write mostly your positive happy thoughts. As I read back some of my unhappy moments (that I had forgotten about) from the past, it actually made me feel rather down. I prefer reading about the happy things that happened.

Do you have a family custom or tradition that is important to you?

The Happiest Time of My Life?

Here is the next question my friend, Myra gave me so I'd have something to blog about. 

What has been the happiest time of your life?

I sat here thinking and thinking and thinking. I have lots of happy times and it's good to think about that now as I sit at home unable to travel anywhere. But the happiest? Sorry Art, because I can't say it was our wedding. He agrees actually. The wedding itself was probably more stressful with so many things to think about and prepare for. And besides that, he did pay for the whole thing. 😁

Was it the day of Tiffany's birth? That was stressful too. It was a difficult birth due to the incompetence of my obstetrician at the time. Was it Keola's birth? That was better since Art delivered him by himself. But, exuberantly happy? Hmmm... That had its stresses too.

Then I thought about that trip to England. 

Art had seen a poster about a super deal to England during a shoulder season when fares were cheaper and the kids happened to be on spring break. It would be our first trip out of the country and this was perfect since it was to an English speaking country. 😂 

We went to Blenheim Palace, tasted scones and had tea with cream and sugar. Wow! That was the first time we'd had scones and found cream and sugar with tea is very lovely. (We learned it's not the same with green tea though.)

We tried to persuade the kids not to eat the bread fried in bacon fat, but it fell on suddenly deaf ears and they loved every bite of their full English breakfast.

We met so many lovely people and saw every historical place Art could fit into our schedule. It wore the kids out so much they fell asleep watching the musical Cats on stage.

The next trip we took out of country was to Rome.

We had just seen the Christmas papal mass at St. Peter's Basilica the night before we left and was awed by actually being inside it a few days later. It's huge!

Imagining wild animals and gladiators at the Colosseum was amazing.

The kids were thoroughly taken by panini, that thin Italian sandwich. And we fell in love with Tuscan seasoning.

But the trip that was most memorable for me and happiest was going to Japan with the kids.

I'd met my mother's parents and family for the first time 26 years before when I went to Japan on a college trip and this was my first time back since then.

I spent three weeks at my grandfather's temple in Sendai. He passed away a year after I left in 1971.

And now here I was again back in Japan seeing my grandmother, aunt and uncles. My cousins were still babies and in nursery school back then. Now they were grown up and speaking a little English which was helpful for my kids and Art. 

I've often written about how the older generation in Japan never says the words, "I love you." It's just understood. But the one thing I knew my mother would say was "Don't forget to eat your vegetables." I always equated it to caring and love. 

On our last day in Sendai before traveling south to Hiroshima, my grandmother told me how much our visit meant to her because she said she probably wouldn't see us again. (She passed away a couple of years later.) She then turned to Tiffany and said, "Don't forget to eat your vegetables." I think my eyebrows went up at that sweet reminder. She then turned to Keola, looked at him up and down, laughed and said, "I can see by your strong body that you eat your vegetables and everything else."

I think this is also such a happy memory because it was the first time we actually introduced Japan to the kids. Growing up in Illinois, they didn't have a true feel for the culture of the country their grandmother was raised in. 

And the other happy memory? My aunt who counseled me on my angst about my love life 26 years before, took me aside before we left and said, "You have truly picked a very good man."

And I know she still thinks that.

What was the happiest time of your life?

Goals of My Youth?

Here's the next question my dear friend, Myra gave me in her effort to keep my blog going.

What were your youthful goals and ambitions for life? 

Which ones have you been able to fulfill?

This was another difficult question because I don't remember having goals or ambitions. Why is that? Perhaps I felt I didn't have the means to fulfill them. 

I know that it was only after trimming pineapples in a hot pineapple packing factory for 12 hours a day during my summers while in high school that I decided I didn't want that to be my life.

I didn't even think about being a teacher. 

I just knew I wanted to be somewhere I could sit down in an air conditioned room. I decided being a secretary might work so I should go to business school. Besides, I got the best grades in my typing class and I loved my teacher.

That idea changed when my friends decided to go to college. Mom wanted me to go to college also so I went with the plan.

Aside from not following through with that business school goal, another thing I thought would be super neat was carpeting on the floor.

No plantation housing I knew of had carpeting. In fact, as a kid, I don't think I even knew you could have carpeting. Every house I'd been in had linoleum which was practical with Waipahu's red dirt.

But then new neighbors moved in. Their daughter, Charlene was the same age as me. Her dad worked for the plantation, but her mom was an executive secretary. They had more money and this amazing, fluffy carpeting on the floor. It felt wonderful! I thought it was the height of luxury.

When Art and I bought our first home there was carpeting in all the rooms except the kitchen.

However, after a few years, we pulled it all up and finished the hardwood floors underneath. When we moved back to Hawaii and renovated our home, we went with engineered wood and stayed away from carpeting.

So... I guess I didn't fulfill my childhood goals exactly, but I think I'm happier with the way things turned out.

Did you have childhood goals? What were they?

A Perfect Summer Day

A few days ago, my good friend, Myra texted some ideas to me on what I could write about on my blog since my brain was running dry of ideas. One of the topics was to describe what I thought would be my perfect summer day.

When we moved to the mainland, we didn't foresee the problem of our family being fragmented throughout the country. Yes, we did want to return to Hawaii someday. That someday happened a lot sooner than we thought when my mom asked us to come home after my father passed away. Now, we have to fly long distances to see our children and their families, but with the pandemic, it's no longer wise.

For my 70th birthday, both Tiffany and Keola came to Hawaii to celebrate that milestone with the whole family.

It was absolute heaven for all of us to be together. We went to Matsumotos for shave ice. We had special carry-out meals. There was laughter. There were grandchildren running about the house. 

Oh gosh, that's my granddaughter only 2 years ago, still a girl. She's a teenager now. And my grandsons have grown so much too and probably running their parents crazy.

But that was such a happy day just enjoying the beauty and fun of Hawaii... together.

What would your perfect summer day be like?

Now What?!?

I can't remember when or whether it was our mayor or the governor or both, but the breaking point for those leaders to put stricter mandates in effect was when we ran out of hospital beds.

I should think the time is NOW. This is what I read in the Star Advertiser on Saturday.

• We had to ask for emergency FEMA medical relief workers (nurses and respiratory therapists) for our exhausted hospital staff. We now have 438 FEMA medical workers that are already here. 200 more FEMA medical workers are expected today.

• Hospitals that have exceeded their ICU capacity include Hilo Medical Center, Adventist Health Castle, The Queen’s Medical Center on Punchbowl Street, Wahiawa General Hospital, Pali Momi Medical Center, Straub Medical Center and Kuakini Medical Center.

• The state’s adult ICU capacity is already overflowing, with 224 ICU patients for 223 beds. About 100 of those patients have COVID-19.

Straub has already had to set up additional space outside their hospital in what looks like their parking area.

Other hospitals have set up triage tents outside their buildings.

Hawaii began running out of oxygen. We don't know yet if/when another shipment will arrive because there is a global shortage.

Our Lt. Governor Dr. Josh Green has been advocating stricter mandates, BUT Governor David Ige is reluctant because of the harm he feels it will do to our businesses and economy. Our health director, Libby Char was also pushing for stricter measures.

We've run out of ICU beds. We have had to ask FEMA for more medical workers. We're running out of oxygen. Our COVID infection rate is surging. There were no lock down measures for the Labor Day Weekend except for the governor pleading with everyone to limit the size of indoor and outdoor gatherings and promising strict enforcement of violators. All the major hospitals that I know of don't have ICU beds available and all the ones closest to us are definitely at over capacity. If we suddenly get terribly sick where do we go?

So now what?

POSTSCRIPT 1: OK. You can forget strict enforcement of violators. Several friends told me that in their community park there was a party with a ton of cars parked along the street with lots of people, tents, a portable bouncy house and even a popcorn machine set up. They reported it and the officer didn't even ask which park it was, nor did that person appear to want to do anything.

POSTSCRIPT 2: In today's Star Advertiser it said: "The strain of surging COVID-19 cases has reached the point where Gov. David Ige has signed an executive order giving health care institutions immunity from liability if they ration care."

So... I guess we're going to be re-active rather than pro-active. Sigh...

I'm dreading what the infection and death rate will be a week from now.

Anti-Vaxxers/Anti-Maskers Don't Know the Meaning of Aloha

I have written emails to Governor Ige and Mayor Blangiardi (Honolulu County which is Oahu) asking them to please do something as our COVID infection rates have gone sky high and hospital rooms filling up and running out of oxygen.

Now that our infections are hitting the thousands they've finally instituted a requirement called Safe Access O'ahu. This requires establishments like restaurants, movie theaters, gyms, bars, etc. to have patrons show proof of being vaccinated or a negative COVID test within the last 48 hours in order to enter. The Mayor has also limited gatherings to 25 people outdoors and 10 people indoors. Bars can't serve alcohol after 10 PM. After those pronouncements were made the Star Advertiser posted this Big Q(uestion) on their app.

I can't remember ever seeing a number as high as 973 for any one choice.

It's obvious that people want something done.

However...

A group of Anti-Vaxxers/Anti-Maskers descended on Honolulu Hale (Honolulu City Hall)

and started berating the mayor.

They demanded the mayor hold an in-person town hall meeting of 500 people without wearing masks.

They have the nerve to call themselves the Aloha Freedom Coalition. I was shocked that they would appropriate the Hawaiian word for love for what they are doing. These people do not know the meaning of Aloha. 

This photo is from Denby Fawcett's article on the Honolulu Civil Beat website.

Aloha is caring. Aloha is love. It's caring about others. This group who ignore the fact that so many people have already died, are still dying of COVID or are suffering from it are not in any way showing aloha. And they are also not showing kuleana (responsibility), but they probably don't know the meaning of that either.

How We Met

Since I can't think of what to write about for today, I decided to write about how Art and I Met. Darn! I did a search and discovered I'd already written about this topic in 2009. I know a few of you already read this post in 2009 but I'm hoping you forgot, like Art.

I was finishing up my Education degree at the University of Hawaii in 1971 and had two summer roommates from Wisconsin staying with my buddy, Gail and me in our apartment. Suzie was a stunning young woman shorter than all of us but with bosoms that were probably larger than all of ours combined. Suzie got a part time job at a Waikiki bar and was constantly bringing home guys she'd met. Oh yes, on top of being rather "stacked" she was pretty and very nice. She used to complain that having a large chest was really a curse. We smiled and tried to sympathize.

Some time in late July, Suzie was at Waikiki beach swimming when her bikini top got loose. Well, there was a lot to hold up so I imagine her bikini top was not quite up to the job. Art happened to be at the beach with two of his buddies just taking in the rays. He says he NEVER saw a thing, but suddenly, his ever gallant friend, Jeff was sprinting toward the water to give Suzie a helping hand. I mean... locate that missing garment piece.

Jeff fell in love with Suzie but she eventually wanted to break it off because she fully intended to return to Madison where she happened to have a boyfriend. Of course...

I'm thinking Jeff was quite clever in bringing Art to our apartment to meet me hoping that Art would possibly like to go out with me so that he could tag along and perhaps see Suzie also. Suzie eventually returned to Wisconsin at summer's end anyway.

Meanwhile Art and I went out a few times. He was a captain in the Air Force working on a Top Secret spy satellite thing that he couldn't tell me about. And he never did, until a book came out revealing the entire thing. Anyway, this was the Vietnam era when my dating an officer with a SHORT haircut wasn't exactly the most fashionable thing to do.

Jeff told me that Art had said he wasn't really interested in any sort of commitment at the time. Jeff reassured him that he had nothing to worry about since I was seeing somebody else also. Which I was. Later, a worried Jeff warned me that Art was seeing a couple of other women so I shouldn't get too serious about him either. Poor guy... I think he felt responsible.

It was too late. Four months later, Art and I were already engaged and married the following year. Jeff was his best man.

What did I see in Art? For one thing he had a car. Just kidding. I really admired the fact that he was so smart. I hated math and he loved it, being an engineer. The most important thing for me was that he was truly kind, loving, fearless and responsible. OK... so he was cute, too.

What did he see in me? He says he found somebody who would do his letter writing for him.

I don't know what it was. I don't think there were fireworks or a grand passion. It just felt right. The fire in our relationship was something that would build up from the sparkling embers of experiences in our shared adventures together.

Whatever it was... it worked and has worked for 36 years.

And now it's worked for 48 years.