Eight Days of Hannukah

a rousing Hannukah song written by, of all people, arch conservative Senator Orrin Hatch!

Eight Days of Hanukkah from Tablet Magazine on Vimeo.

Thanksgiving

Last Friday, Kalei and boyfriend Blane were making the 8 hour drive from Arcata south on windy Highway 101 to Santa Cruz for a Thanksgiving visit with Blane's family. In the midst of a serious rainstorm, Blane pulled over on the side of the road to let a tail-gaiting car pass by, lost traction on the muddy shoulder and skidded down an embankment. The car flipped over and landed in a streambed. Amazingly, no one was hurt-- they were wearing seatbelts, so the windshield cracked, but not their precious heads. Kalei reported the mice fell out of their cage but were rescued, and that “the check you sent survived”. Lots of folks stopped to help, including the tail-gater. No one’s cell phone worked, but two girls said they’d call for help when they got to their friend’s house. Car needs repairs, but it's just a car. Blane's dad, bless his heart, immediately drove from Santa Cruz to help with the car and after an overnight stay, drove them back to home for Thanksgiving. Shortly after talking to Kalei, I read the news that another HSU student, driving home for Thanksgiving on that same day and in that same storm got into a collision on Hwy 101 near Willits…and died. We're still absorbing the mystery of how and why we came so near to, and yet were delivered from, life-changing disaster. As Kalei, trying to make light of the situation, said to us: “Well at least now you have something to be thankful for this Thanksgiving”. Yes, indeed!

Transition

Jonah is stretched out on the couch napping, foreboding music from the History Channel blaring in the background. Yesterday, two weeks before his 25th birthday, he left behind Waimea town on the Big Island, arriving in Honolulu for a short visit before departing for an open-ended trip to Australia, Indonesia, and beyond. Ah, to be young and setting off to see the world!…with a travel medical insurance card in your wallet to help assure parental mental health.

As we renew our familiar family dance of support, interference, independence and pride, Jonah alternates between frenetic packing and last minute travel arrangements, short bursts of significant communication with us, and long naps on the couch as the TV pours out ambient white noise.

Once again transition lives up to its multi-layered meanings. Our son is back in the womb and pushing to get out, while we find ourselves immersed in an intense, painful, delicious stew of preparations for his departure, aware that just around the bend waits that mysterious next phase of life, his and ours. For 48 hours, our immediate lives are intimately intertwined again—our full attention focused on supporting him, waiting on him, waiting for him. At moments he is appreciative and loving, at others prickly and protective, flashing his independence banner. This is not your business --“I do it!” as said over and over at age 2.

One moment I am patient and wise, dispassionately loading up a tray of options: medicines, snacks, and other protective totems -- for him to choose what he will take in his single large back pack. The next, a fissure erupts in these best of intentions, and I hear myself pointing out that he has not chosen any of the alcohol based hand rub products and presenting the evidence-based case for use. His single word warning tone draws a line in the sand, and even I am amused at myself. At another point, I am carefully channeling my need to be near and his for distance by quietly doing Internet research concerning country entry requirements and US State Department advisories, and other such reassuring information. Suddenly, I cannot contain my worries and must “share” what I am learning. Real casual-like, I remark, “Hey, did you know that…?”, and he lets me know perhaps he does and perhaps he doesn’t, but that’s for him to figure out, thank you very much.

Over dinner, Mark attempts to engage in conversation regarding earthquakes in Indonesia, but Jonah does not want to go there. He feels we too often focus on our fears, dwelling on negative side of life, and about this he may be right; still, he suspects fears crouch behind our words even when they are not there, hearing perhaps the echoes of his own inner voices, a jungle of the conscious and unconscious sprouted from seeds we planted long ago.

The evening after Joel departs, when I try to get Mark to debrief with me, he says, "I don't debrief so fast", disarming me with my own laughter. Yet shortly after, he comes up with this eloquent and accurate description of our son: “Jonah” he says, “doesn’t yet appreciate the fact that time does not repeat itself. Because of that he's often not really here in the moment with us. When he chooses to be here, he's incredible company, filling the room with a brilliant presence. And when he's not, he's a lump on the sofa, sucking the life out of the room like some intense black hole.”

In the dark before daybreak on the morning of departure, we are all up. Jonah is in high spirits as it dawns on him life is moving, his dream trip a reality. Together, in our small kitchen, Mark and I make a bento box of musubi with ume, preserved forever meats, and a few hardy veggies for our son’s 12-hour no-frills plane ride to Sydney. I am by turns anxious, excited, envious, and grateful. It is our good fortune once again to be turning the corner together, even as this transition carries him far, far away.

emails from the girl

a recent email from Kalei, followed by my response...amazing personal growth and communication!

Hey mom!

Sorry I didn't call this weekend, I went to the Earthdance festival on Friday after my midterm and meant to call you guys from there but it turned out I had no reception within 10 miles of the place...anyway, I had a great time, it was the vacation I needed - saw many great performances and a lot of good music and food. It was very dusty, and it got up to a 107 degrees on saturday, but luckily we were camped under a tree (unlike last year), and drank plenty of water. It was still over a hundred where we were, but it could have been worse. I ran into Anastasia at one of the main events, a band called Sound Tribe Sector Nine, as well as my current neighbor, and former neighbor.

The midterm I took before I left did not go very well. I studied really hard and I blanked as badly as I've ever blanked on a math test. I was positive I had failed it when I left, as there had been only five questions worth twenty points each, and each of them were the very problems, out of the hundreds of problems I'd worked, that I didn't master. I didn't let it ruin Earthdance for me, but it did not feel like the great reward I was hoping for after taking a difficult test (when I got there I actually took a 2 hour angry nap).
I got it back today and I didn't fail it, I got a D (62/100) but it was the happiest D i've ever gotten. On one particular problem (the only one I got full points on), my teacher wrote a note saying I was the only person (besides the person who aced the exam...) who was able to do it, and that I should be proud. I guess that counts for something, and it was nice of her, because I think it was apparent from the quality of my answers and my handwriting that I wasn't having the easiest time.
While we're on the subject of me screwing things up, on Monday I messed up our fly breeding lab by accidentally getting rid of the wrong flies. It normally wouldn't be a big deal but it was the same vial in which all the flies died and we had to redo, something that took longer than it needed to. I am in the process of fixing it, and my lab partners are easy going people so no one is too mad at me, but it does set us back even more, and we're now cutting it pretty close...thanks to kelly.
When it happened I didn't even realize it at first. I finished and began putting things away, and I recall thinking 'Wow, that was easy'. I then immediately remembered how Dad had always said that when things seem too easy, to be very suspicious, not to let your guard down. After I thought of that I looked down at my data and got this horrible sinking feeling as I realized I made a mistake impossible to undo. I really had to fight back the urge to simply regress- return to my old habits, give up, run out of the lab, go to sleep and deal with it later like a horrible hangover. That really wasn't an option though, so instead I took a deep breath, came up with a plan, finished doing the thing I'd come in there to do, left, and called my lab partner to confess.

On another note, I took my first biometrics midterm yesterday and I think I did really well (and hopefully my assumption is right).

Anyway, that life the last few days. I have to go to class now, but I will talk to you guys soon,
love you!
Kalei

####

Kalei,

well, this subject of this email line ..."the worst" turns out to be quite appropriate for the conversation below; and it does feel like a conversation...perhaps it's the rich and complex description you offer of these events, the inner conflicts and resolutions unleashed in the process... or just that all the ups and downs, failures and triumphs, sound so very familiar. I'm very proud of you for how you are handling all of this. That you are able to take responsibility for the mistakes and ride the waves of misfortune and find good things in the midst of the horse doo-doo is far more important than doing it all perfectly. Of course I want things to always go well for you, but such is not life. Today, I find myself at 4 pm after a day at home mostly doing KKV work, having not gotten to nearly what I expected cause things just took longer than I predicted (as they just about always do -- how do I fool myself that way all the time?) So I must struggle not to feel anxious or inadequate and to be content with what I can accomplish. And I'm dealing with it by taking a break and writing to you! :) Yeah, just like you, Dad and I continue to make mistakes, some of which cannot be undone, but most of which can be adjusted to, forgiven, and lived with.

Some mistakes I don't know how people find the strength and grace to live with -- don't know if I could do it -- like I was reading today about a young man with "meth mouth" -- started using at age 14, by 19 all his teeth were rotting, falling out, and he had great pain. He quit using at age 22, is now 26 and getting dental work thanks to a devoted Kalihi dentist, still suffers from lots of oral pain, but can look at himself in the mirror now and is determined to get past all this. Anyway, digression, you know me...

Glad you had a great vacation at the festival and it makes us so happy to see you making delicious omlettes with all those slightly cracked eggs you've been trying to juggle and mostly keeping in air... and I've run out of steam with this metaphor. Yup, as Charles Dickens said in one of those tales of his "It was the best of time, it was the worst of times..."

Love you, Mom

Departures

wonderful Japanese film - we laughed and cried, cried and laughed and longed for a departure such as this


DEPARTURES: Movie Trailer - The funniest videos are a click away

ku'u home o waimea

As we bounce and jostle along the rugged and rocky dirt road in Jonah's 4-wheel drive truck, heading for a small cove well off the main road to Hapuna Beach, I am suddenly reminded of him as a 5-year old, driving bumper cars at the 50th State Fair, the steering wheel careening wildly as he focused with great intensity on the job at hand. He is in his element here, driving skillfully across the dusty bumpy terrain. Yet it was just a few months ago that he proudly purchased his re-built country truck and Nohea taught him to drive standard.

We are in Waimea for a working vacation and reunion -- With Kalei home from college, she, Mark and I flew to the Big Island to do some work on the property and spend time with Jonah, friend David and girlfriend Nohea. We worked outside most of this morning, chopping and hauling tree trunks and branches, almost filling the rented dumpster. After a food store run, and assemblage of the new grill, we headed towards Kawaihae and the South Kohala coast.

The kids brought us to a favorite spot for an afternoon of snorkeling, swimming, opihi picking, Bar-B-Q, and pulling keawe thorns out of our slippas. We had the place all to ourselves, unless you count the ant-sized folks visible in the distance at the Hapuna Prince Resort beach as I squatted to use the lua. The lovely cove, with its beach of many small water-rounded stones and large lava rocks a short swim from shore, hid a breathtaking underwater world plentiful with reef fish, black vanna, red starfish and lush bright green coral canyons and meadows like none I've ever seen. I was excited and deeply happy to be flying above and amongst it all. The smooth sun baked black and white stones on shore were a surprisingly comfortable place to warm up and nap after a swim in the late afternoon water.

Later that night, Jonah, Nohea and David used food prep and bar tending skills honed in Hawaii's service economy to treat us to "Mexican Margarita Night", with the fine meal followed by rousing rounds of Hana Fuda. No one can crow like Grandpa, but Mark attempted to evoke his spirit with a rooster's cock-a-doodle-doooo whenever Grandpa's favorite card, the chicken, appeared. We even slid into comfortable collective reminiscence about Milo; it's been 6 months since Jonah's beloved dog was hit by a car on Kawaihae Road, and up to now, 'twas a taboo topic around him.

It seems a long 10 months indeed since Jonah and David moved to the Big Island, camping out in the newly completed shell of our brave little round redwood and cedar house, using their sweat equity to turn it into a home. And now, both boys are ready to move on. Jonah is gearing up for the next phase of his life, a path that may take him far from here once again. He is itching to travel, go back to school, or... he's not sure what yet, but his psyche is pulling up stakes, his relationship with the house and land now as non-committal and rocky as that road near Hapuna beach. The seismic ripples of this shift can be felt by all of us, with everyone trying to come to grips with the fact that a corner has been turned, that an intense period in each and all of our lives is coming to a close. Still, there are surprising signs of new life: Kalei worked hard every morning clearing the land, and now can envision herself returning here to live, plant, build and grow in the years to come.

I am filled with grief and gratitude -- deep sadness for the time that is coming to a close in Waimea; grateful for the fragile good fortune that got us this far together in our grand adventure and investment; grateful that, despite and because of the experience, we can still spend satisfying time together. Differences in expectations, talents and contributions that were once complementary now grate and create conflict, yet still in the midst of this complexity, we have been able to enjoy each other and connect to the love that binds us. Flying somewhere along the continuum between functional and dys-, we are an imperfect family of good people trying to honor our relationships above property and money; trying, scary as it is, to allow each other to move on and away; to accept each person's contribution, as well as what cannot be freely given.

Try as I may to accept these changes, I still cling to the rocks like the Big Island opihi that Jonah loves to hunt and gather. As attached as these children are to our family and yes, this land, they are determined to pry themselves free and find the next home away from home. At these times of change on top of change, it seems as though everything I try to grab hold of slips through my fingers like limu floating in the sea. As Nana Veary said so many years ago, back when I was too young to know why her words are such a challenge: "Change we must". Perhaps one of these days I will learn how to enjoy that slippery feeling! For now, what I can do is treasure the many good moments we are given, let them go, and watch what washes ashore with the next tide.

what we saw this morning

This morning at Shark's Cove, North Shore we saw 3 eagle rays (bull rays) flying in formation, and two green sea turtles munching away on the coral ledge where the waves washed in. what a joy to fly alongside them in the calm water! we had no camera, so I just found these to give a sense of what we saw :)

The Last Day

Bruddah died today on the bus stop bench where he lived. Cindy called my cell phone today to tell me the news. The bus driver reported he was sitting up on his bench at 10 in the morning, but Josie said by afternoon he was dead. The three of us passed by him each day. As recent hires, we got the newbie parking in the Methodist Church's dark, dank, stuffy basement, trekking the 15 minutes to and from work through heat and rain past the Art Academy and the bus stop bench that Bruddah occupied day and night.

During the 7 months I held this job, I passed him almost every day, dragging my little vintage bag-lady wheeled cart filled with files, books, lunch, coffee thermos, water, work shoes, etc. As my teenage bus-riding daughter often reminded me, those of us who spend lots of time in cars have no idea what city streets are really like. These commuter walks refreshed my memory. The world has a grittier look and feel to habitual pedestrians and those who rely on bus transport. You learn to close your eyes when a bus or truck passes by, spewing jets of hot particle laden air in your face; if one wants to avoid bodily injury, one dare not step off a curb on a green light before making eye contact with right turning drivers and waiting to see if they actually stop. My little cart made me temporarily semi-handicapped, and I came to deeply resent the fact that some curbs are inexplicably not accessible, requiring either dangerous or long detours.

Often, a small dark cloud hung over my head during these walks, a cumulus of job stress, adjustment anxiety, the indignities of finding myself at age 55 “on probation” with no paid sick leave, vacation, or retirement benefits and a parking situation that made the logistics of going into “the community” complex.

Bruddah lived in his own little bubble too. He sat or slept all day on one bench at the bus stop, surrounded by bus riders who made do with the other bench, or stood as far away from him as possible. He appeared totally out of it, never acknowledging or talking to others; mentally ill one assumed, though he didn’t talk to himself either, aside from occasional muttering. One day I offered him a small bottle of water from my cart, and he accepted it with a simple and socially appropriate “Thanks”. After several days where I noticed him turning red-faced under the hot summer sun, I gave him an umbrella. Several snacks and water bottles later, we were on waving terms. If I had something to share, I offered it. If not, I just waved and called out “Hi, Bruddah”. Though he habitually sat with eyes downcast, he would look up at me from under bushy eyebrows and give a dainty little kid wave. Sometimes I wondered whether he might be disappointed by a wave alone, but saw no sign of it. If I brought something he always thanked me. Bruddah never asked me, or anyone else as far as I know, for anything.

He gained weight and grew enormous over those few months. At some point, he acquired a walker, but movement of any kind became increasingly difficult for him. I figured he had diabetes, and tried to bring mostly healthy things. The only thing he ever refused was star fruit…that is, until the last day.

It was the end of a long day-- my last one at this job. I felt fortunate to have found an interesting new job, but with no time for transition, I was due there early the next morning. The sky was growing dark, and I donned the mantle of heightened alertness women bear when walking alone at night. As I wheeled my overflowing cart past Bruddah’s bench, I offered some food I’d snagged for him from the workplace snack table. To my surprise, he declined, adding intently “I’m really thirsty—do you know where I could get some water? I can’t move.” Anxious and self-absorbed, I replied that I had no water—then blurted out “I have a new job, and I may not pass this way or see you anymore” to which he responded, “I want water”. Feeling foolish, I stammered an apology, and moved on, worrying about the dark and deserted church basement that lay ahead. Not my proudest moment. A few steps later, I took in his words and realized, hey, I can do that. Wheeling my last-day load to the car, I drove a block to a gas station mini-mart, bought two big water bottles, walked back to Bruddah’s bench, and handed him the water and a $5 bill. “You answered my dreams!” said he when he saw the water. I demurred that it wasn’t much, and wished him well. Returning to the car, my steps were light and fearless, as nighttime enfolded us both in her timeless and loving embrace. It is my hope we were both reborn that night. I know I was.


What if God was one of us
just a slob like one of us
just a stranger on the bus
trying to make his way home
back up to heaven all alone
like a holy rolling stone…?

-Joan Osborne

PS: my spell check keeps trying to change Bruddah’s name to Buddha. Mahalo and aloha ‘oe Bruddah Buddha

PPS: "the last day" was many moons ago...but the writing completed itself only last week.

very cool 6 minute film - winner of international film festival

View this movie at cultureunplugged.com

Reading List

I sent out a request for reading recommendations to a short list of friends and received back a rich treasure trove of literature-- such fun! I had expected more overlap, but only one book was mentioned by two people: "The History Of Love" by Nicole Krauss. You must be an eclectic bunch of readers. If you want add more recommendations, you can do so by posting a Comment.

"The History Of Love" by Nicole Krauss beautiful writing and one you can't let go, lots of Jewish content, amazing book :)
Liora

A Fine Balance
The Long Walk
Cloud of Sparrows
What’s the What – Dave Eggers
Beasts of no Nation – Uzodinma Iweala
History of Love – Nicole Strauss
Madonnas of Leningrad – Debra Dean
The Inheritance of Loss – Kiran Desai
The Reluctant Fundamentalist – Moshin Hamid
Jo Ann

Somebody's Heart is Burning, A
Woman Wanderer in Africa by Tanya Shaffer.
Just finished The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, by Junot Diaz and loved it ... set in Panama and NJ Panamanian community ... you learn more about Trujillo than you can bear ... an unusual remarkable prize-winning book. Now reading East of Eden which I can't put down.
Carol

I have read everything by Haruki Murakami...Start with Dance Dance Dance or Kafka on the Shore and if you like his style, just keep reading. I also like Paul Auster a lot.
Max

If you want some fairly light reading, I love Jodi Picoult novels. She's a really good writer and typically writes about very controversial/difficult issues in an interesting and complex way. (By light, I don't mean light on subject matter but rather easy reading.) My favorite one of hers is "Second Glance" ...but...I really like most of them.

Another easy-to-read novel is Sweetwater Creek, which is a coming of age novel about an adolescent girl and her love of dogs. Author is Anne rivers Siddons, who also wrote another interesting one called Home Place, about a woman who goes back to her southern hometown.

I don't think she's published anything recently, but Josephine Humphreys remains one of my favorite novelists -- Rich in Love is my favorite book of hers.
Louise

just read HONOLULU by Alan Brennert - it was a brirthday gift from my korean cousin - it was interesting and fun - an historical novel about Korean Picture brides and the period of 1920-1950's or so - the facts seem to be right and I was actually facinated as my grandmother was a picture bride - also interesting the way the women helped each other even if they didnt always like each other - loved that - my grandmother had no friends that way - but I DO!! yay! also read "Three Dog Life" by Abigail Thomas - loved that one - sadly - relevant to me - we're all hangin in there - aloha no –Val


Doris, did you see the film The Reader? It’s an amazing version of the novel, which I loved. The writing is beautiful & economical, the novel isn’t a huge long one. And if you’ve not seen the film, there is a turn in it that I didn’t anticipate, that makes sense of a lot of things within the story. But not everything, because it’s about the Holocaust and making sense of that isn’t possible. Cheers, Kathie

The Memory Keeper's Daughter; The Known World; Life of Pi -- placed in my hands by Linda

Am finally getting around to responding to your query. I loved Brooks' "Year of Wonders," so I'd like to know what you thought of her recent book.I am reading a lot of Canadian authors. When I move somewhere, I like to read the local literature to get a feeling for the place and the mode of expression. I did that in Hawaii and it enriched my appreciation of the place and the people. (If you want any Hawaii rec's, can do.) Some Canadians: Douglas Coupland - who coined the term "Generation X." He's funny and irreverent, and many of his books are set in Vancouver. What's not to like? Some I liked: Shampoo Planet, Eleanor Rigby, The Gum Thief, jPod (this one a bit gimmicky, but I thought it was hysterical)You can't go wrong with Margaret Atwood
I also think Jane Urquhart is great - try Away, A Map of Glass, The Stone Carvers
Joseph Boyden has written 2 emotionally breathtaking tomes that incorporate indigenous people and their clash with the current world - Through Black Spruce and Three Day Road; And a few non-Canadian picks:2 from India: Aravind Adiga - The White Tiger; Paul Theroux - The Elephanta Suite (helped me to realize how little tourists to India really know what's going on); Sebastian Barry- The Secret Scripture (not about religion, stunning). I want to read more of his stuff; Plus, I have read a number of mysteries set in Scandinavia - let me know if you want to know about those.
I am pretty much an addictive reader and am always on the lookout for more - so please let me know what other hot tips you receive, and also, if you try any of these, what you think. Carolyn

 

Here I am, with a new friend, in the Red Rock Country of Sedona, Arizona.

The trail beckons

Creaks and groans accompany us along Aiea Loop trail on this bright and windy winter Sunday afternoon. No, it is not our middle aged bones, but the strawberry guava, eucalyptus, koa, and ironwood trees rubbing against each other in the wind as we walk. I am so deeply happy to be here again, in our seldom visited backyard park along the pali, where so many memories reside, where nature brings us back time and again to our precious present.

We pass the place in the trail where years ago Mark and the kids took Mahina-the-cat's remains, and we are comforted to know her bones lie there still. We pass the spot Mark calls "Hi, doo-doo" for the surprisingly sassy greeting a tiny and usually polite Kalei gave a puzzled stranger as he hiked past. At the end of our short hike, Mark as always heads for the bathroom, and I announce "I'll be over here making a mouse-house". The words conjure another Aiea Loop ghost, an end-of-hiking ritual our children insisted upon: building a rodent-sized house of gathered stones, scraps of wood, crunchy brown leaves, needles of thick pine and fine ironwood.

These memories return, not sadly or heavy with regret, but light and easy to carry like my small back pack; they soften and slow our steps a bit, but do not trip us up any more than do the prolific tree roots. Only conscious attention to the present, and a good guava walking stick, is required to navigate the trail gracefully and in harmony with mud, roots, and memories.

It is so good to be here as the afternoon light glistens and sparkles through the complex network of branches, highlights the patchwork of yellows, whites and greens in the valley below, and coats the vista of ridges near and far in pastels petticoats of quickly passing sheets of delicate raindrops.

Life has been in such continuous transition that I can't recall the last time we swam in the ocean or walked in the mountains of our home island. Waiting for life to return to normal, I secretly wondered if we ever would. Yet today, something called me to our neighborhood wilderness, whispering that that life cannot be put on hold, but must be lived starting now...starting here...in your own backyard. Carpe diem! The trail beckoned, and the path while winding, windy and ocasionally wet, was easygoing, and with our guava sticks we walked lightly, carefully, and gently on the earth, putting life back on track one step at a time.

Milo's gone

Last night Mark received a text message from our son Jonah on the Big Island. "Milo was hit by a car. He's dead". Since the day Jonah adopted this pug-faced poi dog from the Humane Society, everyone has loved Milo. Kalei cried out "No!" when she called this morning, and I told her the news. She said "Jonah needs that dog".

Jonah and Mark exchanged a couple one-line emails, and Jonah said to "give him a few days". At such times, he doesn't want to talk.

It is hard to believe that Milo is gone. Though this is hardest for Jonah, Mark and I are surprised how much grief we feel -- for our son, and because we loved our "grand-dog" who brought so much delight to our family.

Living with the sorrow today, I found myself reading Thich Nhat Hanh's "Peace is Every Step". He offers some simple words to say with the breath:

Breathing in, I calm myself
Breathing out, I smile
Dwelling in the present moment,
I know this is a wonderful moment!

How can such a fucking terrible day be a wonderful moment?! I yelled in my head. It is so dark and painful to know that my son is suffering.

Because we have been through other losses these past few years, our family has been bound together by our grief. Jonah and Kalei's sorrow is ours as well. In the midst of this sadness, I cannot help but feel grateful that my son is such a deeply loyal and caring man who does not love lightly. This assures there will be more love and sorrow and joy in the years to come.

My baby flew to California today, returning to college and the Boyfriend. Here's where Kalei is now...

What a difference a year makes! Her winter break in Hawaii last year was one big stressful conflagration for her from start to finish, involving underage drinking, a court date, community service, health problems, nicotine dependence, and many moments of defensiveness and conflict with the parents. This year by contrast, she was mostly delighted and delightful, transformed into a motivated and successful student, rattling on enthusiastically for hours about the details of botany, now her major. Maturation and happiness leaves her far more patient and loving with us, and willing just to hang out with her family. Equally amazing was a new willingness to explore her inner space. In the calm that followed one rough melt-down, a post-teenage tantrum, when she was ready to run out and reach for a nicotine fix, I suggested we go to Hilo's only kava bar for a little harm reduction, and then dared to ask "What do you think made you so angry?" Rather than letting her psyche head for the hills to escape the painful moment, she stopped and reflected on what was at the root of the powerful emotion-fueled outburst, performing self-therapy in my presence with an almost scientific interest in furthering her own psychological development.