Furlough Fridays Turn into Frantic Fridays

While I do agree that the various departments need to cut their budgets to meet what is in the State coffers, I think that the scheduling of the Furlough Fridays cut into the student learning cycles with shorter weeks on an inconsistent basis.

It would appear to me that it would be better to consider attaching the furlough days to intersession and vacation periods. Parents can plan for extended days off rather than sporatic days here and there. As a teacher, I could plan for student work during the longer vacations so that students can do independent or directed studies activities at home...for high school students - research papers, papers requiring interviews of people in the community, art projects, the reading of tandem novels, poetry chapbooks. Many, many things could be planned to put the extended days off into real use for the students to explore, spend more time thinking and working on projects.

But what is common sense does not always seems to be the choice plan of action. It is noble of some schools to continue to run school with the teachers working for free. Despite all the public thrashing of teachers, this is really a noble act. People who are not in the field don't see the daily sacrifices teachers make for their students. But of one caution to these teachers who are willing to work for free, it would behoove them to check if they will be covered by State insurance should something happen while working outside of the State contract.

Let's hope that the financial straits we are in are a temporary measure. Rather than grumbling, we need to take action to resolve the situation beginning with the individual homes...more careful consumption, more conservative spending, better use of our resources, more consideration of our less financially able neighbors and friends. We cannot do everything but each of us can do something.

Anticipation, Expectation, Dejection, Revelation

It is kind of funny how we might scheme to do something, plan for it, look forward to it, consider all the positive outcomes and when the event occurs we fall flat on our faces...things did not turn out as they were planned.

That is what happened to me this weekend. I had a whole bunch of things I had sewed or embroidered and the leftovers were taking too much space in my two closets. I had to get rid of the extra inventory. So I wrote up a classified ad and had it submitted to the local newspaper. We were going to have a garage sale with discounts of 20-50% off!! What a deal? Only thing, people would have to drive waaaaay out of their way to Glenwood...a whole 20 miles out of Hilo, a whole 20 minutes of their time to get to our ranch. We posted our company sign on the front fence of our yard.

That morning began at 5:15 am. We got up and started putting up the clothes. I would say we had over 100 pieces of clothing including bikini tops, bathing suits, cowboy hats, men's and women's shirts, mu'umu'u, and all of that. The day was beautiful. The sun was shining and the cool Glenwood breezes were so refreshing. By 10 minutes to 9:00, our sale start time, I had worked up a sweat. 9:00 came. 10:00 came. 11:00 came. 12:00 came. I went into the house for lunch and still, not even a rustle of cars even slowing down as the millions of cars passed our house either going to Volcano or going to Hilo.

Finally, at about 10 to 1:00 a car drove up. It was a parent I knew from Mountain View School. We chatted. She reminded me several times I needed to do something about our welcome goose that had fallen on the side of the road. Put a rock or brick to keep the goose stand steady, she advised. So she left without even walking near the clothes racks. I walked down the driveway and put a brick on the goose stand.

I walked into the house and told my husband about what a bust our plans to get rid of all of the old inventory were. His eyes were glued to the TV as he courteously nodded. He was watching his beloved Ohio State Buckeyes and USC was marching down the field under the direction of a FRESHMAN quarterback. OSU was ahead but USC was march, march, marching down...84 yards in 12 plays under the direction of a FRESHMAN quarterback. Oh well, I muttered, we wasted $66.40 on our classified ad. He kept his eyes glued to the USC march downfield and made soft wimpering sounds as expressions of sympathy. But Damn...USC made a touchdown!! OSU lost its chance to be the first Big 10 team to beat USC in a million years!!

Defeated, I walked upstairs to my office and started doing some work. 2:00 came. 3:00 came. No other customers came. Am I going to be depressed that no one wanted to buy my clothes? Did anyone care that I spent $66.40 on advertising? I went back outside. The skies were blue. The Glenwood breezes gently blew between the clothes hanging. The clothes were glad to be in the sun and fresh air! I got my homework done. It was a beautiful day. Heck, even veteran apparel companies like Reyn Spooner had garage sales to get rid of old inventory...and they had 1000s of shirts and dresses for sale. I'm lucky I did not have 1000s of items to get rid of. Yeah...and heck...it turned out to be a beautiful day after all.

A Computer Ghost Story

When you are Hawaiian-Chinese like me, you are very sensitive to the unseen in the environment. I was raised with stories of night marchers, mo'o, evil spirits waiting to get your fingernail clippings or hanging out with your laundry left on the clothesline after sunset. Perhaps the awareness is simply an understanding that there are forces in our lives that go beyond the concrete and tangible. This is healthy respect engendered to promote proper behavior and consideration.

But some things are just too weird. There are collections of occurrences that warn us that we are going down the wrong path. For example, after I finished my doctoral studies, I wanted to apply for a post-doctoral award so I spent a lot of time distilling my dissertation to meet the requirements of the award. When I checked my writeup, pieces were mysteriously missing and appeared in strange sequence. So I redid my writeup only to find out that the download was again all kapakahi (mixed up). I took my disc to the computing center to see if they could clean it up. They tried to do their best but suggested that I retype my writeup just in case. This is like the fifth or sixth time I am redoing this darn paper. I am no quitter and wanted to see the project through. The last straw occurred as the deadline neared. The neon sign of destiny had been turned on. One night, I was working late in the University of Southern Mississippi's library when a sudden thunder storm struck. Lightning hit the library, and the electricity was knocked out. We sat in the darkness for a few seconds. Everybody's computer came back on except for mine!! Whatever I had typed was lost. When I went to see the librarian the next day, she said that all the computers were operative except for the one I was working on. It was inoperative.

That was the last straw. In frustration, I went to my major professor for my dissertation committee and explained the string of events and told him that I was withdrawing because the lightning strike was a sign that I was barking up the wrong tree. Dr. Hamilton Williams was the best professor anyone could ask for and he agreed that perhaps I should not pursue it. He wished me well and told me that he would see me at the commencement exercise. Then he said that it would be his last commencement. I made light of his comments and reminded him about how he was so loved by his students and everyone was jockeying to see if he would serve on their committee.

Graduation came, with the post-doctoral award forgotten, we shared orchid leis with our friends. That was the last time I saw Dr. Hamilton who suddenly passed away a few weeks after graduation. Were the weird string of events a harbinger of things to come? Was the computer trying to tell me something? I don't know but am certain that our energies have a direct relationship to how well or how poorly technological hardware operations. There are signs in our lives. We need to be open to them to understand the path we should be taking. Don't let the neon sign of destiny flash...it might be too late for corrective action.

Even Old Farts Can Have Hot Adventures

Now that we are in our 60s, we are settling into a quiet country life filled with routines, simple pleasures, and a lot less rushing around. We have our evenings categorized by what TV shows we will watch.

Everything changed when we went to Honolulu last weekend. Right off the plane, we went to a fab clearance sale of Reyn Spooner clothing. There were thousands of shirts for sale running from $15, $25, and $40. Bargain-mania. After seeing so many shirts, had to start getting sassy and became more choosy about what we would buy. Christmas shopping is done...at least for the kanes in our family.

We had several eating adventures in mind. First was to go to Mr. Mandoo on Pi'ikoi Street for their spicy mandoo which are like manapua which got lost in Korea. Spicy pockets of yummy washed down with iced coffee.

Second on our list was our favorite Korean restaurant. While we had diligently researched the best Korean restaurants, we ended walking to a restaurant right near to the Ala Moana Hotel. The restaurant is right next to the strip joint, Femme Nu Club. I don't know who was more embarrassed...me or the young men waiting to get into the strip joint. Beyond this though, we know it is a good restaurant because we were the only Haole - Kanaka couple in the whole joint. Most of the customers were Honolulu Koreans. We had 12 kinds of side dishes, chupchae, pulkogi, fried mandoo (the authentic kind), and korean style miso soup. We nibbled until our pikos were turned inside out. Waddling back to the hotel helped to settle the food in our opus. Luckily we both enjoyed the food because the cloud of garlic settled in our hotel room.

In our research, we found a restaurant called The Counter in Kahala Mall. A customer can build his/her own burger starting with 1/3 pound patties. (There were bigger burgers available.) One could choose a beef, turkey, pork, or grilled chicken protein choice with 4 kinds of toppings, cheese of various types, sauce, and choice of bun. Don't choose a bun...the burger came and it was a tower of food. I had a 1/3 pound beef burger with mixed greens, grilled onions, tomato, mushrooms, with garlic aioli on a whole wheat bun. Could not wrap my mouth around the burger. Had to break it up into bite-able increments. Choose a burger in a bowl. Don't waste your opu space on bread. They also had sweet potato fries, french fries, and onion rings. The restaurant was packed with people. Considering the lines that kept queueing outside the restaurant, the service was pretty fast.

Of course, we had to go to Shirokiya for their breads and Hokkaido specialty foods, the Cookie Corner, Aloha Salads for mixed salads of all kids. The most amazing thing is that when we got home, I lost 3 pounds. Now how did that happen? Perhaps I lost weight spending far too much money on Christmas gifts, shoes, and jewelry. Ahh me...at least it was a change of pace from our quiet pastoral life. Even old farts can have a hot adventure...of course it may be a lukewarm adventure by comparison to other folks. But it was good enough for us!!

It's a Number Game

It's funny how we get attached to or repulsed by certain numbers. For example, if you go out on a date, it's not cool to go as a threesome as one person ends up having to hold "chochin" the proverbial third wheel lantern.

In Japan, people don't like the number four (shi) as the character is part of the phrase "shinuru" which means to die so to live on the fourth floor or in apartment four does not bode good fortune. Just as we skip the 13th floor, they do the same for the 4th floor.

In America, people don't like the number 13 as it is the number of misfortune. Examine the level of tension when Friday, the 13th rolls around and it has nothing to do with the movie of the same name. People just get freaked by it and it seems as though the anxiety attracts negative energy.

The Chinese like the number 8 "fat" which means good luck. Our favorite restaurant in Hilo, the Sky Garden Restaurant, does not have their name in the phone book. But now we can remember the phone number which is filled with fat 8s...935-8888!

When we moved from Oahu to the wild rainforest of Volcano, everything was put right when our box number was the same number as my favorite sister's house number in Hawaii Kai. Coincidence? Perhaps but the move has been a good one since 1981 and we have kept the same box number.

Of course, we always think that we are getting a bargain when we need to pay only $29.99 for a product instead of the devilish higher price which is only a penny more. Have you stood in the aisle in a supermarket trying to figure out the real price per unit for an item? Which one is really cheaper per unit? This is where math skills are really important. From the newspaper, we read about how manufacturers are leading us astray with 20% more per package, cases of beer with only 20 containers. Numbers, numbers, numbers! Things are achanging but are we smart enough to figure it out?

Love of Food, Food of Love

Life is unfair! Why is eating so pleasurable and satisfying? Why is losing weight so torturous, lonely, and depressing? It is easy to intake calories with sweet or savory tidbits. It is difficult to ignore commercials displaying pictures of pizzas, fried chicken, and burgers dripping with fat when trying not to eat. It is so unfair.

In Hawaii, food is often the expression of love. A mother cooking for her family enjoys watching her kids eat with gusto as they laugh, talk, tease each other around the dining room table. Food is the expression of her love. It doesn't matter if it took a couple of hours to prepare the food that might be demolished in 40 minutes. It is the social interaction that is part of the eating of the food.

In celebrating my 60th birthday, I asked my kids if they would help me to put on a party to gather friends and family. They agreed so we proceeded. Our park reservation form listed about 40 people attending. Our RSVP list had about a hundred people. Over 100 people showed up and that does not include the 20 or so people who said they were coming and didn't show up. Needless to say, we had a packed house. We did all the food ourselves. Grilled steaks with garlic and lemon, pineapple teriyaki chicken, bean penne casserole for the vegetarians, bean salads, deviled egg salad, sweet potato salad, smoked octopus, rice. Our appetizers included a kimchee medley - tofu, cabbage, seaweed, and cucumber kim chee plates, seared blackened fish, ono cerviche, warabi salad, guacamole and chips. My kids worked hard to grill the steaks. People we hadn't seen in years came and talked to new friends. A loner came and found friendly smiles and listening ears for the evening. We ended the meal with cake, a homemade carrot cake, and platters of gourmet cookies. Wow. Love was flowing. From the hands that made the food, the people who brought the food, the people who ate the food with great appreciation...

For all the enjoyment, we pay the price of having to lose the weight for the eating of the poi. But life is short. Enjoy, enjoy.

Tribulation and Triumph

Murder in our community, a most heinous event. It rocks us to our very souls. When we know the people affected by the murder, we take it personally. Perhaps we did not really know the victim but we know her mother, her grandfather, her aunt, her cousin, and we really feel for them. The loss, the tragedy, the waste of it all, the devastation, the violation. We cry tears that sneak down our cheeks and we try not to sob or sniff loudly and have others spy on our show of sorrow.

Yet in the wake of the murder...the death, the mother smiles and thanks the people who have come to the funeral. Heartfelt embraces, tears, whispered words of love and encouragement. In the midst of such a loss, love emerges from the ashes of devastation and fills us with hope that there is indeed a God.

In the Hawaiian tradition, we eat together after the funeral. Cooking, eating, and talking are all forms of love. We sit together and talk, perhaps of other things, and yet, we secretly stash the thought that as soon as we leave the funeral, we will go home and tell our kids, our loved ones, "I love you." Sometimes if we are lucky, someone starts strumming on the ukulele, is joined by someone on the guitar and the music washes away our tears. As the sweet music echoes, someone's aunty stands up to do an impromptu hula. All acts of love in the stream of things. Ending off the event by having dessert washes away the bitterness with dark chocolate and luscious cherries, flavor-packed carrot cake topped off with cream cheese frosting, butter mochi - chewy and creamy.

Going to a Chinese funeral is an adventure. With the Buddhist priests' cymbals and bells clanging, the monotone chanting, the clouds of incense smoke are new experiences for the country jacks from Lahaina. We go outside to burn fake money, paper clothing, a paper car, a paper boat, all things needed by the deceased in the underworld. Chinese like to be prepared. After the funeral, we eat dim sum, luscious pockets of pork, shrimp, and crab with hot mustard sauce, and fragrant hot tea. We eat coconut candy before we leave, the sweetness to combat sorrow.

No matter what culture, a funeral brings together loved ones...ancient animosities are put aside, past injustices are forgotten, we focus on the beautiful memories, and live in the present. In the midst of sorrow and tribulation, love is showered down upon us, washing away the tears, and filling us with gratitude and hope for the future.