Brennert a Class Act

Click on photos to enlarge!"The reward for conformity was that everyone liked you except yourself."
Rita Mae Brown


A Very Competent Workman

(He is making the "Shaka" gesture that is a friendly greeting among Hawaii people - NOT a gang sign!)

"Do not hire a man who does your work for money, but him who does it for love of it."
Henry David Thoreau

Alan Brennert: Author & Gentleman

“A gentleman is one who puts more into the world than he takes out.”
George Bernard Shaw

Throughout classic Asian cultures, a person was not considered completely cultivated, truly civilized, if they could not write a passable poem. Additionally, it was the height of barbarity & rudeness to receive one and NOT reply. By these lights, many otherwise well-regarded modern folks are barbarians. How many of us have sent a manuscript, CD, or weblink to someone we might reasonably expect an acknowledgement from, and then heard. . . Nothing. . . ?

Then there are recognized artists, or writers, who remain humble even while enjoying best seller(s), the laurels, and the rewards that success brings. They feel, perhaps, a responsibility to their muse & a mission to carry the torch with some purpose greater than their egos. They remain alert to the struggling beginner for whom a kind word is like winning a prestigious award. No need to lie, a mere friendly acknowledgement will satisfy the hobbyist, feed and fire up the true & lonely journeyman.

A while back I blogged a review of Alan Brennert's Molokai a novel that haunts me still with it's successful alchemy of research, skill, & magic. You can look at the review here:

http://comfortspiral.blogspot.com/2008/12/fiction-nonfiction.html#links

Well, out of the blue, Mr. Brennert was kind enough to send me a friendly e-mail graciously thanking me for the review! His book is already HUGE, and he's on to the next one. He didn't have to do that. He wrote that my little Hawaii novel, Aloha Where You Like Go? and this blog, looked "interesting" and invited me to meet him here in Honolulu during the promotional tour of his latest: Honolulu.

Last Saturday was rainy, and wet in more ways than one (see previous post Water Week). Consumed by my domestic excitement I had forgotten the long awaited rendezvous. At 20 minutes till the book signing, the light went on! I jumped into clothes (all black matches - no thinking) and even found a parking spot. (quite a condensed sentence eh?).

Mr. Brennert's latest, is the story of a young Korean "Picture Bride" who came to these islands in the early 20th century to marry. Many mainlanders cannot discern a Chinese from a Japanese person. Living in Hawaii, I have had the privilege and pleasure of meeting and befriending the above, plus Korean-Americans, and thus becoming aware of this great culture even before TV's LOST, or Hyundai.

The early chapters of Honolulu have already "hooked" me, and taught me things I never understood about the "Yobo" culture, food, history & language. When the action moves to Hawaii I'll need to retreat to a locked room to gorge on this story. Do not disturb. The man has skills and heart - the unbeatable literary combination! He mentioned during the reading, that he chose a Korean protagonist partly because the wonderful independent film Picture Bride had already addressed the story from the better-known Japanese perspective. Smart move. Picture Bride is a masterpiece that says more about the real Hawaii than a dozen history books! I strongly suggest that you see it. AFTER reading Honolulu that is ;-)

Alan was friendly, and humbly happy to exchange signed books. Easily wearing the generosity of "the great" he elevated me to his rarefied empyrean, and we talked simply as fellow writers. I personally know how exhausting (if exhilarating) it is to address even a sympathetic audience about one's passion. And this was the last stop of the tour for a very sniffly and sore-throated author!

Nevertheless, he took time to talk story with me about his career (TV writing, genre fiction) about the process of researching and producing a novel, and about his love of Hawaii. "The next book," he said, "won't be set in the islands. Don't want to be typecast." Cloudia (relieved): "That's my pigeon-hole!"

So check out Honolulu. And thank you for entering the Comfort Spiral! Stop by any time; The A l o h a here is always as fresh as two-finger poi! Cloudia

Swim, Boy, Swim!

Click on photos to enlarge! "Acquire inner peace and a multitude will find their salvation near you."
Catherine de Hueck Doherty

1923 Ford touring car

"If Beethoven had been killed in a plane crash at the age of 22, it would have changed the history of music... and of aviation."
Tom Stoppard




"The only competition worthy a wise man is with himself”
Anna Jameson



All of nature is animate; Lovers

“The distance is nothing; it is only the first step that is difficult.”
Madame Marie du Deffand

Maui Realtor Mike Spalding is in his early sixties but his version of "taking it easy" might not match yours exactly. A few nights ago the long distance swimmer, and recent inductee into the Hawaii Swimming Hall of Fame, set out to retrace the crossing by Kamehameha's flotilla of war canoes of the 30 mile wide Alenuihaha Channel from the Big Island to Maui.

All was proceeding "swimmingly." Spalding was in the zone beloved of distance athletes and the crossing looked good. Then something in the wine dark sea scratched his chest. He realized that the light from his accompanying kayak had attracted a swarm of cuttlefish. A moment later, a 1 inch by 3 inch bite was taken out of his leg, probably by a cookie cutter shark feeding on the cuttlefish. No word on if the little shark spit out the human flesh and said "Phooey." Mike called the kayak over and scrambled aboard, filling it with fresh blood.

Cookie Cutters grow to only about 2o inches long, but they possess a serrated row of sharp teeth suggesting the eponymous baking tool. They take a bite and SPIN. Ouch!

Maui boy intends to complete the swim at a future date. No quote from da shark. As for me? Look for me under a ridiculously big straw hat FAR up the beach. . . A L O H A! Cloudia

Water Week

Click on photos to enlarge!Work boats wrestle barge off my stern.

"A sailor afloat is a prisoner in danger of drowning."

Dr. Johnson

Barge in place, ready to make NOISE!

“You don't drown by falling in the water; you drown by staying there”
Edwin Louis Cole

Crane tops the masts.

“Nothing is softer or more flexible than water, yet nothing can resist it”
Lao Tzu

For those of us who live afloat, water is a potential adversary that must always be regarded with respect, like cooking fire. Bringing it aboard in the sheep's clothing of plumbing, inviting it inside the hull, is a folly that only domestic comfort could demand and be granted.

Rust, too, never sleeps nor ever awaits an invitation. Under the tutelage of water and rust, my past week has been something not entirely unlike imprisonment, giving me an appreciation for the lives and contributions of galley slaves throughout the ages.

As many of you know, there has been major harbor construction all around me for weeks now. Cranes and compressors to the front of me, heavy equipment to my rear, powerboats scant feet off of my stern as they wrestle the work barge (above) near enough to send vibrations racing through water, hull, and finally into my nervous system. And it has been rather nervous of late as you might guess!

So I was delighted to escape with a gal pal for a few quiet hours of palliative acquisition (shopping) today-a-week-ago. It was upon my return aboard that this saga really begins; the incessant jack hammer & diesel assault had only been softening me up for the main event. . .

Know that feeling of returning home wishing only for a cup of tea? Well I soon forgot my cuppa when I noticed the diminutive lake growing in my engine room!

The mechanical castanets of doom outside mocked me with their inescapable chattering as I switched on the savior pump. With so much noise, I couldn't discern the potentially home-saving hum of the pump. Then slowly, too slowly, the lake began to recede.

The lake had formed while I was away and all shore-water coming aboard turned "off." This meant that wily water had wormed it's way through quarter inch steel and tons of cement. The real question? When might the full "gush" finish the job?

It takes a lot to get the favourite husband to come home early. He loves what he does, and has a position of some responsibility. But water aboard is code for "get back here NOW!" And it worked.

Pumps should be automatic. I should be a best selling author. We don't always get what we want right away. Careful timing showed that I had two hours between manual pump outs. Not too bad: I could leave the boat for an hour, and sleep in two hour shifts. Husbands need their jobs and so get to sleep through - only fair. The first night was not too bad. A float switch was acquired and a repairman contacted.

With Miss Kitty, this computer, and everything we own aboard, I was ready to do what it takes. Lionesses always protect the cave. I only hoped that the suddenly puny-appearing pump would hold up and adhere to my 2 hour feeding schedule. Then the water speeded up.

Repairmen running true to form, Sunday rolled around without a resolution. Hubby stayed aboard to meet and greet (and pump) while I was paroled for about seven hours of socialization, secure in the knowledge that the problem would soon be solved. . .

The lack of sleep, and underlying tension (grab EVERYTHING and RUN!) finally broke over me like a trunami as I returned home to more repairman excuses and a 2o minute interval on the pumps. Electric back-up pump in place, and a timer at hand I settled in for an all-nighter. Two hours of sleep seemed so luxurious now!

I watched a fascinating documentary on TV about Henry Langois and the Cinematique. Virtually the first person to grasp the curatorial value of film, he set out to preserve these fragile documents of volitile nitrate stock. His story played a central role in the cultural upheavals of the Sixties, it seems, and I revelled in the footage of Parisian students rioting in grainy black and white footage. I read the English subtitles until it was time for the next pump-out.

Hubby found me twilight-dozing at 5am with the alarm ready to "beep" and kindly took over as I dozed a couple of hours before my trip to the home supply depot super store for another back-up pump, back flow limiters, and a crate of amphetamines.

When I returned home, the auto pump was finally auto pumping. That sucking sound you hear is the song of my freedom! The eminent emergency was now just a fun water feature. I always wanted to raise carp at home for fun and profit! Meanwhile, the harbor was still too churned up and opaque from rain to send a diver down. That would take another day to accomplish. . .

Yesterday, Tuesday, the diver found a suspicious spot below and plugged it with special boat-bottom magic sealer. The regular sucking noise of the pump slowed down like a patient returning from the brink of death and breathing normally again. . . And so we passed a second full night of blessed sleep.

Today we are drying out, I could even leave the boat all day if I wasn't so wasted. Drier weather has returned too, bringing back mesmerizingly blue Waikiki skies. The blessed, soothing Trade Winds have been filling back in all day. Paradise regained - for now. LOL!

So now you know why this blog missed posting on Tuesday. Hope you understand! And the construction? It's down to a dull roar today - but at least I'm free to leave. . . For now ;-)

A L O H A! Cloudia

House of Many Gods

Click on photos to enlarge! Wai'anae Valley, O'ahu

"Let us be silent, that we may hear the whispers of the gods.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson

Home Sweet Hale

“It is a well-known fact that we always recognize our homeland when we are about to lose it.”
Albert Camus

Tutu (Grandma)

“The hero draws inspiration from the virtue of his ancestors.”
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

After a torrid childhood love affair with fiction, I got too busy and too grown-up to read all that merely "made up stuff." For years I didn't have time for it. I went whoring after information, thirsted after facts. But now, with the world's systems roiling, our parents passing, and age inexplicably encroaching even upon ourselves, I find once again that I am deeply fed by stories. . .Human stories. . . Yours. . . and Mine. . .

Our lives, I believe, are lifted and dignified when we remember the struggles of those who came before with gratitude, and when we awaken to the wonder of our own parading moments. . .

In her well received novel, House of Many Gods, Kiana Davenport (author of Song of the Exile) demonstrates "that living is a sacred act." My Hawaii novel, Aloha Where You Like Go? is the story of one who journeys to the Islands, learning about life & herself, through this uniquely rich setting. But Ms. Davenport (of Native Hawaiian & Anglo-American descent) writes from the Na'au, the bowels of this 'Aina (sacred land) itself, where the deepest truths of the Hawaiian people and their gods reside. . .

Opening these pages, we find ourselves among the very rocks and roots of the most Hawaiian of places, far from Honolulu city lights: Waianae Valley on O'ahu's Leeward Coast. This is a place and a way of life that few outsiders get to know beneath the hot, sunny surface. I had the privilege of conducting an after school group at Waianae High School for a few years and felt deeply touched to be even a small part of the lives of the children and families of "the coast." They taught me a lot. It is indeed a special place!

This story begins with all the commonplace cliches of the district: poverty, drugs, crime, the struggle for dignity, family dysfunction, and the cultural dislocation and dispossession of the Hawaiian people. But this is no political screed. Through dazzlingly arresting phrases & sentences, the author creates characters and scenes that come to life in your heart. Small kid times, extended families, homely joys, and keening rich pain, all coalesce into a whispering spell that draws a reader like an undertow of the mind. . . I really cared about Ana, and her family. Then a plot twist whisked me to a completely different setting; A land of moonlit birches, of unrelenting snow & cold. . . If you choose to read House of Many Gods, you will not be disappointed. Not only will you touch the ineffable (ah! literature!) but you will absorb a deeply soulful nourishment.

Oh! and you will absorb interesting "facts" and "information" in the truest way: through humanity and caring. Thanks for stopping by today.

A L O H A! Cloudia

MTM: In Bed With an Elephant

Click on photos to enlarge!Hawaiian Rainbows

"Don't buy the house. Buy the neighborhood,"

Russian Saying

Welcome to the HHV!

“Love thy neighbor--and if he happens to be tall, debonair and devastating, it will be that much easier.”
Mae West

Wedding pictures at the Duke Kahanamoku Lagoon.

Hilton Rainbow Tower behind.

That is the world's tallest tile mural.

"Canada, in sharing a border with the USA" is like a mouse in bed with an elephant." Anonymous

Some people want to live adjacent to a college campus. I live next door to the 12th largest resort in the world. This "campus" boasts the largest number of rooms at any resort in the State of Hawaii with 3,543 total. Of these 2,860 are traditional hotel rooms, 639 are time share, and 44 (in the Diamond Head Rainbow Apartments) may be rented by the month.

Welcome to the Hilton Hawaiian Village Beach Resort & Spa!

When Duke Kahanamoku grew up here, folks still knew the area as Kalia, an age-old Hawaiian fishing village. Further down the beach were primitive tourist accommodations like Gray's Cottages (where Earl DeBiggers spent a summer, and found his most famous character: Charley Chan in local newspaper reports of the exploits of Honolulu Police detective Chang Apana).

In the Fifties, the early TV detective show, Hawaiian Eye, was filmed here. Remember Cricket (Connie Stevens) singing to the tourists, and local taxi driver Ponci Ponce playing his ukulele at the curb? Robert Conrad was the young "heart throb" of the show. All of the kitchey tiki paraphernalia has long since been purged. Pity. Arthur Godfrey (forgotten today - but BIG back in the day) sometimes broadcast from here. "How ah ya? How ah ya? How ah ya?" he said, mixing the magic name, "Hawaii," with "How-are-you;" pretty clever to a young kid (me). He too played the ukulele, and my earliest memories of Hawaiian Music are from hearing guests perform on his radio broadcasts. When I moved here, certain strangely familiar Hawaiian Classics gave me an unearthly memory of "small kid times." Part of my soul was here all along...

In the sixties, industrialist mastermind, Henry Kaiser, owned the property and prevailed on Buckminster Fuller to build one of his geodesic domes here. I walked past it many many times as long lines of visitors waited outside to be seated within for the dinner show. Today, the fountain with the three hula dancers (photo above) replaces the dome and welcomes visitors to Waikiki...

President JFK visited, as have many, many world personalities. I remember Bill Clinton drawing enthusiastic crowds to the lagoon, and George Bush rushing past less enamored crowds in his motorcade as he retreated to a closed fund raiser inside - or was it Cheyney?

The HHV is a small city unto itself. Almost daily, I walk down her beach, through her lobby, past her art, admire her carp, and over-hear her guests speak languages from around the world. Popular with corporations and conventions, the grounds often host grand private "events" with entertainment by famous artists. One of the high points of my life was presenting a paper about my work with youth to the annual meeting here of the Academy of Child & Adolescent Psychiatrists in 2001. A pleasant memory to conjure as I "schlep" through dressed like a bum, and covered in sweat on a hot day. . .

So this is my neighborhood. From my scow, I mean 'boat' I can see the bright windows of world-class hotel suites. There's no place like home!

A L O H A! Coudia

Pause by the Spiral Stream

Click on photos to enlarge!
“Some painters transform the sun into a yellow spot; others transform a yellow spot into the sun.”
Pablo Picasso



“Strangers are exciting, their mystery never ends. But, there's nothing like looking at your own history in the faces of your friends.”
Ani Difranco

Spiral Triumphant!

“The human mind always makes progress, but it is a progress in spirals."
Madame de Stael

My dear friends:

When you get stuck

spread out a picnic

and enjoy your surroundings!

Thank you for stopping by,

and for your comments.

Wishing you each a pleasant week,

A L O H A! Cloudia

Fifty Years Ago

Click on photos to enlarge!Ted Trimmer: Golden Dream

By building relations we create a source of love and personal pride and belonging that makes living in a chaotic world easier.

Susan Lieberman"

Royal Hawaiian Band on the steps of Iolani Palace, 1906

"The past actually happened but history is only what someone wrote down."

A. Whitney Brown

Dan Axler: Indiana Sky

"There is not a liberal America and a conservative America - there is the United States of America. There is not a black America and a white America and latino America and asian America - there's the United States of America."

Barack Obama

It was 50 years ago this week that the U.S. House of Representatives passed the Hawaii Admission Act by a 323 to 89 vote. One day earlier (March 11) the Senate had granted their "yay" by a margin of 75 to 15.

With the expected signature of President Eisenhower it would be up to the citizens of the Territory of Hawaii to give their assent. A mere 66 years after the overthrow of Queen Liliuokalani's monarchy, just 42 years after the old Queens passing, the Territorial Legislature sat in morning session at her Iolani Palace while Congressional delegate (not representative!) John A. Burns relayed his account of the historic vote by telephone from Washington DC, where afternoon shadows already lengthened.

When Territorial House Speaker Elmer Cravalho announced the final affirmative tally, the representatives took to their feet spontaneously to sing the "Star Spangled Banner." Then they sang the Isle anthem, "Hawaii Pono`i." With the future (the Sixties!) and a young President right around the corner, American optimism swept the isles in a tsunami of excitement and opportunism. With full citizenship rights and voting representation, it was hoped, the strangle-hold of the old Big Five companies would be broken. Then a post-missionary, post-colonial, post-plantation-oligarchy, multi-ethnic society might bloom and prosper after lifetimes of labor, denigration, and exclusion. The Japanese-American veterans who we saluted last week: http://comfortspiral.blogspot.com/2009/03/go-for-broke.html

deserved no less. Even the frank southern racism of certain U.S. senators and representatives, fortified by the anti-communist/anti-labor organizer sentiment of the day, ultimately withered before the evident justice of Statehood. If Hawaii was too different, then the decision to admit Alaska first, as 49th US State, might be viewed as an easy step in America's westward expansion.

Not everyone was celebrating. Hawaiians who had endured "future shock" cultural dislocation, genocidal health emergencies, and political dispossession, still felt a deep pulse of love for their nation and their Monarchs. Many Hawaiian families still cherished elder members who had been born in the waning days of an Island Kingdom. These kupuna passed on stories of a stolen past that they had overheard in small kid times as their parents, who had lived through it all, quietly talked into the evening. The mother tongue, Olelo Hawaii, was spoken in private homes, and hula & chant never really died.

Nevertheless, the momentum seemed ordained. 99 % of the 140,744 local voters who cast their ballots in the June 27, 1959 statewide plebiscite favored statehood. America's "affair" with the brown hula girl was rendered respectable as she assented to become Uncle Sam's latest wife.

On August 21st President Eisenhower signed papers dissolving the Territory and establishing the 50th State of Hawaii. "Us guys stay EQUAL now!" Soon jets would bring newly prosperous visitors from the continent, many of them WWII veterans who had forged an emotional attachment with the isles. I still see the hula girl tattoos fading on their tired arms as they sun on da beach with their Midwestern wives. Pearl Harbor continues to welcome daily visitors from all over the world; Many Japanese visitors pay their respects to this day. The planeloads of visitors did come to "get lei'ed" and to catch a whiff of Elvis. They followed their dreams of an American paradise. Did you see Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson's incendiary send-up of island tourism on last week's Saturday Night Live?

Far far away from the islands, in every way that places can be distant, lived a very young Me who watched "Hawaiian Eye" and "Adventures in Paradise" on a small, family black and white Philco television. It had rabbit ears, I wore Mickey Mouse ears. Already longing for escape from the conformity of 1959, I dozed off on the living room carpet dreaming of an endless summer of no school, no bullies, no stultifying arithmetic lessons.

Somewhere distant in that long ago night, a train howled and chattered; a Harley Davidson backfired, a finned convertible wheeled past my first window blaring Doo Wop. Stirring slightly in my baby sleep, my lips practiced once again the lovely words I had "sounded-out" from the pages of the National Geographic. "Aloha" means "hello" "goodbye" and "love." A porch (my grandma had a Philadelphia "stoop") is called a "Lanai."

But first I had to grow up and move on to second grade. . .

A L O H A! Cloudia

ps: it still means "love!"