French lessons in Hawai'i in winter:
Il pleut.
Il pleuvait.
Il va pleuvoir.
C'est sombre.
C'était sombre.
Ce sera sombre.
When the mayor called me to offer an emergency generator, I too declined. Since I lost my internet too and couldn't continue Rosetta Stone, I used the light from my computer screen to replace the batteries in my headlamp and proceeded to stay up past my bedtime reading from my Madagascar guide book about its natural history - ecosystems, plants, animals. Good news - no poisonous snakes or spiders! Lots of unusual insects, and a millipede that the black lemur habitually chomps in half and rubs millipede juice on its coat. You really can't make this stuff up. Being a naturalist means never having to say you're sorry for loving that vultures poop on their legs for cooling. C'est magnifique!
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Black Walnuts
Ok, I know Christmas isn't here yet so it would be unkindly premature to pick a favorite present. But making it on to the very short list today is the reused check box from Dad bursting with shelled black walnut pieces. They are delicious, of course. But more, it represents a few things: First, it's the winter activity of my family introverts. My grandfather was a black walnut sheller who I believe spent long hours in the cellar to get some peace from my grandmother. My father, while also an introvert, I think does it as a thrifty habit. Believe me, it is not like extracting meat from an English walnut. This is hard work; think hammer and cement block.
Second, my cousin John told a story once of visiting my grandfather. The car was parked out back under a walnut tree. After a nut fell harmlessly but noticably on the car, Grandpa remarked that it's a good thing watermelons don't grow on trees. He rarely spoke, so we paid attention to these asides. And we did appreciate, with our farmers' sensibility, a tree that put out good nuts and valuable wood.
Finally, this past summer my temporary doublewide was at the end of the street in town lined with black walnuts. Most residents cursed them and their oily intrusion. I gathered some up to shell but never got around to it. I did, however, mimic the ravens and go pick up scraps after cars smashed them open on the pavement. Some of you may be disgusted to know that I picked apart the road-broken nuts to find a nugget worth eating. Most members of my family would nod their approval.
And now here is a whole box of black walnuts that I don't have to fight traffic, ravens, or intact shells to enjoy. If you are ever in Balducci's on 6th Avenue and see a tiny can of black walnuts retailing for $15, know that it is worth every penny. And thank you to the family introverts for providing me with an appreciation of this offering.
Second, my cousin John told a story once of visiting my grandfather. The car was parked out back under a walnut tree. After a nut fell harmlessly but noticably on the car, Grandpa remarked that it's a good thing watermelons don't grow on trees. He rarely spoke, so we paid attention to these asides. And we did appreciate, with our farmers' sensibility, a tree that put out good nuts and valuable wood.
Finally, this past summer my temporary doublewide was at the end of the street in town lined with black walnuts. Most residents cursed them and their oily intrusion. I gathered some up to shell but never got around to it. I did, however, mimic the ravens and go pick up scraps after cars smashed them open on the pavement. Some of you may be disgusted to know that I picked apart the road-broken nuts to find a nugget worth eating. Most members of my family would nod their approval.
And now here is a whole box of black walnuts that I don't have to fight traffic, ravens, or intact shells to enjoy. If you are ever in Balducci's on 6th Avenue and see a tiny can of black walnuts retailing for $15, know that it is worth every penny. And thank you to the family introverts for providing me with an appreciation of this offering.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Hawai'i Lovely, or Christmasing with the First Family
Aloha. No, I didn't actually go body surfing with Barry today, but they are in town for the holidays, so it COULD happen. Evidently the windward side of O'ahu is the new Crawford is the new Kennebunkport. And that's where I ruddied my face this fine day.
So I mentioned that I was hoping to actually get outside this weekend. Blessed weather, it has happened! Yesterday after finishing the last of my Christmas cards (my favorite holiday not-chore) and getting out more of those charming little postcards, I got in the car with my map and guide book and drove up to Mt. Tantalus. Thanks to Alisa for the suggestion. This windy road took me up a very green, lush mountain behind Honolulu. At the top and along the way are trailheads leading into the great green beyond. I explored some of them.
Now mind you a sunny day down on the beach still leaves us with clouds, rain, and fog up the mountain. The rainy rainforest aspect reminds me a bit of Juneau where I spent summer of 2001. Except here we don't have to worry about hypothermia. That's a relief. Until you walk into an airconditioned movie theater, but I'm getting better about that. Also, while Juneau really did have a great trail system, they didn't get the message about switchbacks so there's a lot of pulling yourself up by tree roots and sliding down muddy trail on one's butt. Here in Hawai'i, they too missed the briefing on switchbacks but have done a nice job with step-devices. See exhibit A below. Hawai'i State Parks also missed the briefing on toilets at trailheads and popular parking areas. I guess in Hawai'i, things wash away quickly in the rain. Just sayin...
View from Tantalus, a bit foggy, with Diamond Head to the left.
Importantly, however, be it deep green woods or sunny ocean views, this place is gorgeous. GORGEOUS. Today I went east to Makapu'u Point. It's a little mound of rock jutting out on the far eastern tip of the island. A nice path wends upward to a lookout. We're supposed to be looking for whales this time of year. No luck today. But good tidepooling and watching of locals on their boogie boards in the moderate surf. I did not swim, too rough. Nor did I play in the tidepools as my guide book suggested I may. As tidepools are wont, they were full of cool life forms - fishes, and notably, crabs. Partly out of respect for their habitat, partly out of respect for those pinchers, I enjoyed the tidepools from the outside.
Islands off Makapu'u point. The larger one is Rabbit Island, evidently something about ears. Good bird habitat.
Saw Milk in the theater yesterday. Great film. So important, these stories of people who saw a need and did something about it. Harvey Milk was a gay activist in San Francisco in the 1970s, the first openly gay person elected to public office in America. Part of his work was fighting against housing and employment discrimination. He was assassinated for his efforts. We've come a long way, but not nearly far enough when our gay and lesbian neighbors are not afforded the same societal rights as the rest of us. No, they are not looking for special treatment, simply to be treated the same with the same benefits and rights as others.
If I run into Barack on the beach this week, I have three messages: my recommendation for Director of the NPS; advice on improving the business model of the Peace Corps; and to ask him to open his heart to the equality of all Americans on the issue of gay marriage. I'm proud to say that the Japanese American community is on board on this issue. Like they rallied behind Arab and Muslim Americans in their hour of need, so many (notably Norm Mineta) are standing up to support our gay and lesbian friends in this fight. Can't we all do the same?
Happy feet.
So I mentioned that I was hoping to actually get outside this weekend. Blessed weather, it has happened! Yesterday after finishing the last of my Christmas cards (my favorite holiday not-chore) and getting out more of those charming little postcards, I got in the car with my map and guide book and drove up to Mt. Tantalus. Thanks to Alisa for the suggestion. This windy road took me up a very green, lush mountain behind Honolulu. At the top and along the way are trailheads leading into the great green beyond. I explored some of them.
Now mind you a sunny day down on the beach still leaves us with clouds, rain, and fog up the mountain. The rainy rainforest aspect reminds me a bit of Juneau where I spent summer of 2001. Except here we don't have to worry about hypothermia. That's a relief. Until you walk into an airconditioned movie theater, but I'm getting better about that. Also, while Juneau really did have a great trail system, they didn't get the message about switchbacks so there's a lot of pulling yourself up by tree roots and sliding down muddy trail on one's butt. Here in Hawai'i, they too missed the briefing on switchbacks but have done a nice job with step-devices. See exhibit A below. Hawai'i State Parks also missed the briefing on toilets at trailheads and popular parking areas. I guess in Hawai'i, things wash away quickly in the rain. Just sayin...
View from Tantalus, a bit foggy, with Diamond Head to the left.
Importantly, however, be it deep green woods or sunny ocean views, this place is gorgeous. GORGEOUS. Today I went east to Makapu'u Point. It's a little mound of rock jutting out on the far eastern tip of the island. A nice path wends upward to a lookout. We're supposed to be looking for whales this time of year. No luck today. But good tidepooling and watching of locals on their boogie boards in the moderate surf. I did not swim, too rough. Nor did I play in the tidepools as my guide book suggested I may. As tidepools are wont, they were full of cool life forms - fishes, and notably, crabs. Partly out of respect for their habitat, partly out of respect for those pinchers, I enjoyed the tidepools from the outside.
Islands off Makapu'u point. The larger one is Rabbit Island, evidently something about ears. Good bird habitat.Saw Milk in the theater yesterday. Great film. So important, these stories of people who saw a need and did something about it. Harvey Milk was a gay activist in San Francisco in the 1970s, the first openly gay person elected to public office in America. Part of his work was fighting against housing and employment discrimination. He was assassinated for his efforts. We've come a long way, but not nearly far enough when our gay and lesbian neighbors are not afforded the same societal rights as the rest of us. No, they are not looking for special treatment, simply to be treated the same with the same benefits and rights as others.
If I run into Barack on the beach this week, I have three messages: my recommendation for Director of the NPS; advice on improving the business model of the Peace Corps; and to ask him to open his heart to the equality of all Americans on the issue of gay marriage. I'm proud to say that the Japanese American community is on board on this issue. Like they rallied behind Arab and Muslim Americans in their hour of need, so many (notably Norm Mineta) are standing up to support our gay and lesbian friends in this fight. Can't we all do the same?
Happy feet.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Always Night
Based on the pictures I'm about to add, you would think it is always night wherever I go. No. In fact, I do get to go to work and come home in daylight which I realize is a luxury these days. But all day I work in an office and only get out at night to have fun, evidently. Even last weekend I was so rained out/in that I took the opportunity to catch up on correspondance and take in more movies.
I have a recommendation, and most of you will have to wait for its appearance on Netflix - unless you live in a good city with an art house theater. "Man on Wire" is a little film about a monumental event. In 1974 Phillipe Petit engaged help in illicitly and illegally stringing a tightrope between the World Trade towers. He then proceeded to give quite a show, walking between the towers, laying down on his wire, and saluting the towers. He worked a long time to prepare and he and his friends captured wonderful footage at the time. The movie also interweaves WTC construction footage. Petit was in love with these buildings, and the movie ends up being an eloquent elegy for the center, without beating us over the head about it. If you have the chance, please seek out this movie. Especially if you remember beautiful things like the way the first morning light illuminated the corners of the building rather etherially. Or if you ever had the privilege of visiting the observation deck.
Last night I had a different sort of fun. The navy is showing off the fleet this week. Many ships have pulled in and docked just down the street from my little room. And they are all decked out for Christmas. So they are using the boats that normally take visitors over to the Arizona Memorial to ferry folks around the harbor to see the ships, complete with cheesy Christmas songs. As nicely as the ships are decked out, the real winners were a couple of submarines. This one time a year, they do allow for photographs. So here are more thematic shots. Still can't figure out the right camera setting, but you get the idea. If it were light enough to see ashore, I could point out my office and my home. I am really in the thick of it. And I have to say, life on the base is very quiet and pleasant. Except the mynah birds and the wake-up calls from ships and airplanes not too long after 6 many mornings.
OK, a quick joke from a survivor I met in Texas: There are two kinds of vessels: submarines and targets.
This weekend promises to be not solid rain. So today I'm doing a hike and tomorrow I'm hoping for yoga and whalewatching. Ugh, and I can't resist - another movie tomorrow as well. I've pencilled in a date with Sean Penn for Milk. What can I say? You can take the kid out of the movie business, but you can't take the movies out of the kid.
I have a recommendation, and most of you will have to wait for its appearance on Netflix - unless you live in a good city with an art house theater. "Man on Wire" is a little film about a monumental event. In 1974 Phillipe Petit engaged help in illicitly and illegally stringing a tightrope between the World Trade towers. He then proceeded to give quite a show, walking between the towers, laying down on his wire, and saluting the towers. He worked a long time to prepare and he and his friends captured wonderful footage at the time. The movie also interweaves WTC construction footage. Petit was in love with these buildings, and the movie ends up being an eloquent elegy for the center, without beating us over the head about it. If you have the chance, please seek out this movie. Especially if you remember beautiful things like the way the first morning light illuminated the corners of the building rather etherially. Or if you ever had the privilege of visiting the observation deck.
Last night I had a different sort of fun. The navy is showing off the fleet this week. Many ships have pulled in and docked just down the street from my little room. And they are all decked out for Christmas. So they are using the boats that normally take visitors over to the Arizona Memorial to ferry folks around the harbor to see the ships, complete with cheesy Christmas songs. As nicely as the ships are decked out, the real winners were a couple of submarines. This one time a year, they do allow for photographs. So here are more thematic shots. Still can't figure out the right camera setting, but you get the idea. If it were light enough to see ashore, I could point out my office and my home. I am really in the thick of it. And I have to say, life on the base is very quiet and pleasant. Except the mynah birds and the wake-up calls from ships and airplanes not too long after 6 many mornings.
OK, a quick joke from a survivor I met in Texas: There are two kinds of vessels: submarines and targets. This weekend promises to be not solid rain. So today I'm doing a hike and tomorrow I'm hoping for yoga and whalewatching. Ugh, and I can't resist - another movie tomorrow as well. I've pencilled in a date with Sean Penn for Milk. What can I say? You can take the kid out of the movie business, but you can't take the movies out of the kid.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
That's Right
At a dancehall down in Texas
That’s the finest place to be
Where the women are all lookin’ beautiful
And the men will buy your beers for free
That’s right, you’re not from Texas
That’s right, you’re not from Texas,
That’s right, you’re not from Texas
But Texas wants you anyway.
Lyle Lovett
So when I took the Hawaii detail I was excited to be in Pearl Harbor on December 7th to witness the events surrounding the anniversary of the bombing in 1941. Alas, I was dispatched to the Pearl Harbor Survivors reunion in Fredericksburg, Texas. Turns out, I could not have had a richer experience: survivors, good conversations about our new exhibits (and a hundred other things), the triple crown of hill country food, charming hospitality, a Christmas parade, and screaming warbirds. Heaven.
I attended with coworkers Scott and Frank. The main goal was outreach with survivors and families. We presented a talk to folks about the new visitor center and exhibits at the Memorial. We also spent a good time getting to know the people who run the first class Pacific War museum in F’burg. They have the midget sub that was grounded the day of the attack and toured the country in ’42 pushing war bonds.
I met a man who survived Pearl and many other campaigns and went on to be a Park Ranger at Pinnacles for a number of years until he had a daughter who needed schooling the remote location couldn’t provide. I met another man who did civilian pilot training in Texas during the war, giving pilots their first 35 hours. His name was Hans and he was utterly charming. Others told of the Aleutian campaign and the long Pacific nightmare.
F’burg has very apparent German roots so sausage rules the restaurants of main street. This good vegetarian went bad. Pepperwurst, bratwurst, knockwurst – all in a day’s lunch. And the barbecue – brisket, chicken, pork. Of course, Texas is also heavily influenced from the south so we enjoyed wonderful Mexican food. I had not previously known that the accordion often found in Mexican music is a direct result of the intermingling of German and Mexican cultures in Texas. The food brought to mind an old Guy Clark song called Texas Cooking: “Get my steak chicken fried” rhymes with “don’t it make a man feel happy to see white gravy on the side” and “ranch style beans” rhymes with “we gonna need some brand new jeans.” Indeed.
On Saturday afternoon, we trucked out to the airport for some American heavy metal: fly-in day. We had a nice lunch at the airport diner, then went out and walked the line of World War II vintage aircraft. While I enjoy seeing these airplanes in museums, there is a particular thrill to see them on a flight line, even more so to actually see and hear them fly. And boy, we did. The four fighters that were stationed at Pearl were represented and flew together. A collection of Grumman Texans were represented in paint schemes of the various military branches. Others included a P-39 that had been rescued from a Greenland glacier years after it had been lost on a lend-lease flight to England, a Stearman and Taylorcraft trainers, and a bomber that someone said was a B-26 but I heard later was an A-26, the difference that the A didn’t have the rear bombing canopy. Not only did they fly on Saturday but we also had a lengthy flyover at our Sunday ceremony. Truly probably the best airshow I could ever experience, exemplifying the treatment given the survivors.
Although it seems a cliché, the following statement is so very true: I laughed, I cried, I loved it!
This last one is the San Antonio riverwalk by boat
That’s the finest place to be
Where the women are all lookin’ beautiful
And the men will buy your beers for free
That’s right, you’re not from Texas
That’s right, you’re not from Texas,
That’s right, you’re not from Texas
But Texas wants you anyway.
Lyle Lovett
So when I took the Hawaii detail I was excited to be in Pearl Harbor on December 7th to witness the events surrounding the anniversary of the bombing in 1941. Alas, I was dispatched to the Pearl Harbor Survivors reunion in Fredericksburg, Texas. Turns out, I could not have had a richer experience: survivors, good conversations about our new exhibits (and a hundred other things), the triple crown of hill country food, charming hospitality, a Christmas parade, and screaming warbirds. Heaven.
I attended with coworkers Scott and Frank. The main goal was outreach with survivors and families. We presented a talk to folks about the new visitor center and exhibits at the Memorial. We also spent a good time getting to know the people who run the first class Pacific War museum in F’burg. They have the midget sub that was grounded the day of the attack and toured the country in ’42 pushing war bonds.
I met a man who survived Pearl and many other campaigns and went on to be a Park Ranger at Pinnacles for a number of years until he had a daughter who needed schooling the remote location couldn’t provide. I met another man who did civilian pilot training in Texas during the war, giving pilots their first 35 hours. His name was Hans and he was utterly charming. Others told of the Aleutian campaign and the long Pacific nightmare.
F’burg has very apparent German roots so sausage rules the restaurants of main street. This good vegetarian went bad. Pepperwurst, bratwurst, knockwurst – all in a day’s lunch. And the barbecue – brisket, chicken, pork. Of course, Texas is also heavily influenced from the south so we enjoyed wonderful Mexican food. I had not previously known that the accordion often found in Mexican music is a direct result of the intermingling of German and Mexican cultures in Texas. The food brought to mind an old Guy Clark song called Texas Cooking: “Get my steak chicken fried” rhymes with “don’t it make a man feel happy to see white gravy on the side” and “ranch style beans” rhymes with “we gonna need some brand new jeans.” Indeed.
On Saturday afternoon, we trucked out to the airport for some American heavy metal: fly-in day. We had a nice lunch at the airport diner, then went out and walked the line of World War II vintage aircraft. While I enjoy seeing these airplanes in museums, there is a particular thrill to see them on a flight line, even more so to actually see and hear them fly. And boy, we did. The four fighters that were stationed at Pearl were represented and flew together. A collection of Grumman Texans were represented in paint schemes of the various military branches. Others included a P-39 that had been rescued from a Greenland glacier years after it had been lost on a lend-lease flight to England, a Stearman and Taylorcraft trainers, and a bomber that someone said was a B-26 but I heard later was an A-26, the difference that the A didn’t have the rear bombing canopy. Not only did they fly on Saturday but we also had a lengthy flyover at our Sunday ceremony. Truly probably the best airshow I could ever experience, exemplifying the treatment given the survivors.
Although it seems a cliché, the following statement is so very true: I laughed, I cried, I loved it!
This last one is the San Antonio riverwalk by boat
Thursday, December 4, 2008
My Town
I want to share a link with you about the little town I've left behind. I lived in Independence for over five years. I evacuated for the fire, I moved from the flood, and I ate fruitcake. Please take a moment and read the citation for the award for our Civic Club. I believe I've said it before, but they raised the bar. Congratulations for this honor. I love you my town, you'll always live in my soul.
http://inyocounty.info/
http://inyocounty.info/
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