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
Saturday, August 1, 2009
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 :)
Sunday, June 14, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Saturday, April 11, 2009
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
"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
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)