Eight Days of Hanukkah from Tablet Magazine on Vimeo.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Eight Days of Hannukah
a rousing Hannukah song written by, of all people, arch conservative Senator Orrin Hatch!
Friday, November 27, 2009
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!
Sunday, November 1, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
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
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
Saturday, August 1, 2009
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
DEPARTURES: Movie Trailer - The funniest videos are a click away
Friday, July 17, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
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 :)
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