The day after the last day

My last day of work was yesterday, Friday. Half way through the day, I panicked, ready to resign from resigning. I can’t do this! I’m not done… I’ll never get it all done in time! I was, as usual, both wrong and right. I didn’t get it all done, but I was able to leave. Jeanette and Naro stayed as long as they could, helping me carry out to the car my boxes of files, desk side treasures, and overflowing bags of farewell gifts and cards. At 7:00 pm, the last one to leave the building, I walked out the side door into the alleyway, listened to the door shut and click behind me and walked alone to my car as dusk settled on the winding back lanes of Kalihi.

The next morning, Peter and I hopped a plane to Hilo to work on our Waimea house, handle family finances, and spend time with his mom.

As I stood in my mother-in-law’s sunny kitchen, she picked up a white and green ceramic dish she’s had by her stove forever. “I’ve always liked this blessing”, she said, as I leaned over her shoulder to read it.

May the road rise to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
the rains fall soft upon your fields and,
until we meet again,
may God Hold you in the palm of His hand.

--An Irish blessing

My first thought was: I want to send this in my thank you notes to KPHC staff who showered me with gifts, cards and leis at my aloha potluck lunch, at a Lion Coffee health education department gathering, or when they stopped by my office in those final days as I tried futilely to file and finish the un-finishable. The opihi in me is built to cling and clumsy at letting go.

Today I am in mourning for a time in life that is suddenly behind me, 12 years kaleidoscoping the way a long journey does when one reaches the end of it, suddenly seeming short, intense, and, well…over. Perhaps that is the sensation of the brain’s synapses packaging the experience for shrink wrap storage in the full closets of memory. At any rate, I am cross-legged in the closet door, pulling out pieces of the past few weeks, parsing, replaying, and re-living moments recorded but at the time barely felt. I dreamt effusively last night, and while what I recall seems mostly anxiety dreaming, I awoke feeling it was all for the good.

Aloha KPHC -- the week I resigned from my job

The homeless man sits on his sidewalk blanket in front of the closed mom & pop store pouring over some papers and conversing loudly with the voices in his head as we walk by. Chuukese women cross King Street at the pedestrian activated crosswalk, their . colorful appliquéd skits swaying gracefully in the afternoon breeze; Generous Samoan women chuckle and chew their way through KPHC’s Project Zest healthy food demo at Palama Settlement; Walking to my car on Palama Street I pass kids at recess and in May Day rehearsal in the Princess Miriam Likelike Elementary schoolyard where for 11 years we taught health professions students to learn from the children and parents of this unique world gateway community. Down the road, at Princess Kaiulani School, under their signature spreading monkey pod tree, a colorful May Day Court stood in a half circle on the outdoor stage. The mini-King and Queen dressed in royal whites walked with slow dignity across the grass as throngs of relatives with cameras and umbrellas applauded under a hot sun and voggy sky. “Will the families of the King and Queen approach the stage with their Leis of Aloha?” requested the announcer. There was a pause, and then huge men, tiny siblings, and pretty mothers surged towards the stage. One mom, in tight white Capris and high heels, patted her son’s royal cheeks repeatedly with pride, while he looked straight ahead, face impassive, trying to maintain composure. Returning to the 952 parking lot, I received perhaps my last pungent puakinikini lei from the legendary Alice Ramos, and later made sure to consume a piece of her pineapple upside-down cake at the Providers Appreciation Potluck. The remainder of the morning was spent strategizing with Andrea around square formica tables at Lion Coffee warehouse in Waiakamilo. On Friday afternoon, my office is eerily still with no voicemails and few emails, so I settle into the lonely task of sorting through, throwing out or keeping 12 years of files. As if at a wake, I receive calls and visits from a procession of people. In public their voices say one thing, their eyes and hugs another; in my office they question, confide, commiserate, congratulate, and/or cry. I have come down with a cold, the kind that comes when one is letting go. Congestion spins its numbing protective cocoon while inside it feels as if my whole body is crying. All these moments I would normally take for granted are now rarified, precious portraits, fragile fading snapshots to be saved and savored. Wonder what wonders next week will bring?

a dream deferred -- a dream come true

I am sooooooooo excited. This week we spent a small fortune on tickets to Budapest, Hungary, with a couple days in Paris on the way back. We will visit with Jonah who is teaching first, second and third grade Hungarian children in Budapest, and take a trip with him somewhere on the weekend, perhaps to the mountains of Slovakia. All those years while the kids were little I yearned to travel. I looked forward eagerly to work trips which took me to various US cities. And 4 years ago, I made an historic trip with my octogenarian mother and uncle and my 15 year-old daughter, traveling to England and Ireland (with a marvelous but painfully brief 42 hour stay in Paris). So many great things happened on this trip, especially in Ireland, our primary destination, but it was also stressful to travel in such company. I promised myself that one day, I would go back "with adults", but this seemed more abstract than real surrounded by our realities of work, family and income limitations. And yet, here we are, in what would seem to be the most unlikey of times--with uncertainties afoot in both work and finances-- and yet we've just seized an historic moment, an offer we could not refuse, and are following our hearts to Hungary. A dream deferred is poised to become a dream come true. Can this really be happening?

Hey, Democrats... behave like it's a democracy!

"Superdelgates, Back Off" ran today's Sunday NY Times editorial headline, with the abstract: "Democratic Party leaders should let voters pick their nominee". Now there's a radical notion. Author Tad Devine goes on to explain a bit of the history behind the superdelegate thing. They were created to provide the margin of victory to the candidate who won the most support from primary and caucus voters, not to throw the match. With the delegate count predicted to be so very close, the news today is that these super-delgates are being full court pressed by both Clinton and Obama's troops to declare support for her or him even before all the democrats across the country have voted or caucused. If these super-delegated political insiders actually tip the balance and over-ride the popular vote, they will be doing to the democratic voters what the Supreme Court did to the nation after Al Gore was elected president. Democrats will be pissed! I will be pissed! And an awful lot of pissed disenfranchised democrats may stay home on November 4th. I would be tempted, but would probably cool down by November. My 18 year old daughter, on the other hand, is already pissed at the caucus set up which doesn't allow a Hawaii kid attending a Mainland college (or teaching in Hungary) to vote in the primary. If she hears that a few establishment democrats chose the nominee, she, and many young folks like her, may just stay home in droves and we could be stuck with President McCain, the 100 year war, and the creation of thousands of great new jobs at McDonalds.

What happens when you join the capitalist machine

What follows is a disclaimer for the ads that appear on the right upper corner of this blog... or at least the ads that were there when this entry was posted... they change from moment to moment.

What happens when you join the capitalist machine is you get ads for denigrating sexist schlock items like the (goddess help us) "Hillary Nutcracker". I put Google ads on my site, just to experiment with how it works. I don't expect that either Google or I will make any money from these ads...like, my visitor numbers are in the low hundreds, not thousands. I've mostly been amused to see what their search engine yenta matches up with my writing topics: ads for Hawaii vacations, attorneys, life insurance, college loans, even drug rehab programs. But the moment I posted something about Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton, I got two Hillary ads, one for her official website and the other, which we shall not dignify by menioning again (said in one's best Katherine Hepburn quaver). Sheesh, guess I've sold out and gone to join the circus.

Hillary

Because I greatly admire Hillary, and because you cannot watch this town hall meeting without being impressed by her discussion of the issues and solutions...check out this video replaying right now on her site...

http://townhall.hillaryclinton.com/
(cut and paste this into yr browser till I figure out how to make the link live...)

And then, as a reminder of the deep sexism that Hillary's candidacy elicits, read Robin Morgan's essay Goodbye To All That (#2) - February 2, 2008

http://www.womensmediacenter.com/
(same as above...)

'Yes We Can' Barack Obama Music Video

Do we dare to hope once again for real progressive change, an enlightened leader, and a winner...in Barack Obama?

Beautifully done YouTube video reportedly made independently of the campaign—by Bob Dylan's son, director Jesse Dylan, and musician will.i.am of the Black Eyed Peas.



Yes,We Can!