Self Portraits

top: Ted Trimmer

Chinese Christian Church

Young St. shops

"The stone said to the cloud: "You are not strong like me, or hard. What good are you?" -Annonymous

"A book is a mirror: if an ape looks into it, an apostle is unlikely to look out." -George C. Lichtenberg

". . . errors are [his] portals of discovery." - James Joyce

"It's OK to be different. Isn't it?" - A 6 year old

Your life is a work of art

a self-portrait in fact and deed.

Things that happen, "good" and "bad"

are just the artists material.

One's life is a self portrait

what does yours look like?

Dedicated to Studs Turkel, who showed the beauty and power of "average" lives.

A L O H A! Cloudia

Politics

Pauoa Valley

3 guys, oh, and Diamond Head too. A Ted Trimmer photo.

It's ME!

"What experience and history teach is that people and governments have never learned anything from history." - G.W.F. Hegel

"Few people can be happy unless they hate some other person, nation, or creed." - Bertrand Russell

"People who pin their faith to a catchword never feel the necessity of understanding anything," - Agnes Repplier

Aren't YOU tired of slogans, endless "gotcha" politics, and false ideological dichotomies? Public affairs are not a game, but those who've made a good living "gaming" the system won't lead us out of this mess. It is up to ALL OF US to stop arguing about talking-points; there are too many important conversations we need to start having at last.

Listening to anothers' point of view with civility and tolerance doesn't mean that you approve of their viewpoint. In a democracy we are all free to live our values and traditions, and our country is unique and wonderful because of this diversity.

There are more of US than their are of THEM, the "insiders." Let's take back our nation and it's wealth for our kids, for infrastructure repair, and for real defense, not more hand-outs to the fabulously wealthy. Please don't 'trickle down' on me - create a level playing field where we ALL can contribute and compete fairly. Please VOTE!

A L O H A! Cloudia

CEOs, lobbyists, pundits, and millionaires have forgotten what life is really like for

Ghosts of Honolulu

"Aumakua in the clouds"

ghost image

RIP

Moe (Sleep) Mahuhia (peaceful)

Breadfruit

"Family ties in the after-world remain unbroken, and all Hawaiians believe in the power of spirits to return to the scenes they knew on earth in the form in which they appeared while the were alive. Especially is this true of the procession of gods and spirits who come on certain sacred nights to visit the sacred places, or to welcome a dying relative and conduct him to the `Aumakua (ancestral spirit) world."

- Martha Beckworth, "Hawaiian Mythology"

". . . I was allowed a glimpse of a world where the spirits were so ever-present, their manifestations so powerful, that the living and the dead knew no separation...The first direct assault on this [Hawaiian] world of spirit came from the materialism of Westerners who did not recognize the sacredness of all life, animate and inanimate. . . When the Hawaiian spiritual world was altered with the coming of merchants and missionaries, (Samuel M.) Kamakau wrote that much of the Mana left the islands, as new religions, economic systems and attitudes prevailed. In the ancient days, the `Aumakua, family spirits, were healers and 'havens of forgiveness.' They guided the living and even restored life to the dead. 'In this new era,' Kamakau noted, 'the `aumakua have become bitter enemies who punish severely the faults of their descendants when they break a vow they have sworn in their names; . . who break laws, commit adultery, and disregard the laws of God, of the land, of parents, husbands, wives, children and relatives.' "

- Glen Grant, Obake Files: Ghostly Encounters of Supernatural Hawaii, Mutual Publishing

"We must be skeptical about everything, even skepticism" - Cornell West

Spiritual energy seems almost tangible here in the Islands of Hawaii. The seas, skies, and mountain forests are rich with presence; perhaps it is the Mana, the spiritual "force" that animates every pebble, every boulder, every plant on these islands. In this magic land, this `Aina, it is very easy to believe in spirits. The soil itself seems alive.

Watching the volcano fountaining one night years ago, my brother suddenly saw Madame Pele, the volcano goddess dancing hula and surfing on the molten lava. He immediately turned to his friend (who turned to him at the same second) and they both blurted out: "Do you see that?!!!!!" Stories of an old woman hitching rides at night, lighting proffered cigarettes with the tip of her finger, and then disappearing after lengthy conversations, are not uncommon, and the drivers SWEAR that it happened; in some cases thanking Pele for keeping them awake and away from the sea cliffs as they drove home drunk in the wee hours.

I myself have experienced the mischievous spirits of our wilder places. One night they awakened me in my Kona coffee shack, way up on the mountainside. I thought it was a large group of partiers approaching. As I awoke completely, I still heard the voices and I saw darting lights about the shack, but I knew that these were not living visitors. After a few moments they disappeared into the silence of a moonlit night. And no, it wasn't a dream . . .

. . . As Glen Grant wrote, the torches still burn right here in Waikiki too! One Christmas eve a few years ago my husband and I were walking along the bustling, crowded, festive sidewalk of Kalakaua Avenue when I looked beyond the beach and out to the dark ocean to see a procession of torches moving slowly along the shoreline. Never had I seen anything like this: not lights, but torches. No one else seemed to notice, and my husband gave only a perfunctory response when I pointed them out to him. He didn't seem to see what I was talking about. Only later did I learn that processions of Hawaiian spirits are thought to travel from Diamond Head to visit the downtown tombs of ancient of chiefs, kings and kahuna. . .

. . .Diamond Head itself once had a Heiau, (temple) called: Papa-ena-ena which was known as a place of processions and occasional human sacrifice. Mark Twain wrote of visiting it's crumbling walls and of the human bones still interred there. In 1874 Queen Emma (brave lady!) used rocks from the site on her Waikiki property, where they remain today at the International Market Place. Maybe that's why it's so easy to get lost in that warren of shops, carts, and bargains? By 1920 all traces of the temple were erased, and a noted girls' school now thrives on that particular slope of Diamond Head. . .

. . .Downtown Honolulu has always been rife with ghosts and their stories. The voices of crying children are heard in the night where the old orphanage was. A young wahine (woman) is seen at dusk on the grounds of Iolani Palace. Its grounds have long been considered a portal to the world of Po (darkness, night). Queen Liliuokalani herself is seen to patrol the precincts of her capitol (and ours!) keeping a watchful eye on the idiocy of our elected officials who bear her Kuleana (responsibilities) today. . .

. . . Honolulu's most famous ghost story was even reported in the newspapers! When King Lunalilo died in 1874 he was buried at midnight (the custom) at the Royal Mausoleum in Nu`uanu Valley above town. His father, however, asked King Kalakaua to remove his sons royal remains to Kawaiaha`o Church where the first elected Hawaiian king could lie with his people. The King acceded to the families wishes deciding, however, that no cannons would sound the 21 gun salute for the procession and re-burial; it seemed inappropriate under the circumstances. So the Punchbowl cannons were ordered to remain silent. As the procession of torches and high Kahili (feathered staff, emblems of High Chiefs and Royalty) approached the city a slight rain (a blessing) baptized the mourners and coffin. Then they heard the first "boom!" Had the King changed his mind about the artillery salute? No! It was thunder from on high! 21 loud, distinct claps of thunder were heard over the town. The clouds parted to reveal a brilliant star-filled tropic sky only as the coffin was re interred. "Thus did the gods overrule the will of a mortal." reported a local paper of the day. I have been to Lunalilo's tomb in the historic churchyard. Locals say that in the depths of night a voice is sometimes heard calling from the tomb, calling for "paka" (tobacco) of which the the King was very fond.

Photos above are from the Kawaiahao churchyard, and the old King Street Cemetery at Ward Avenue. If you are a serious ghost fan, your library MUST contain at least one book by Glen Grant (RIP)! oh, and . . . . . . . .

BOO!!!!!!!!!!

A L O H A, CLOUDIA

Obama's Back Lanes

top: courtesy of Ted Trimmer

Walking in Waikiki

"Obama's Back Lanes"

I love little Young Street in Waikiki’s neighboring Makiki district. A one-time ‘carriage lane’ it is the quiet back street between urgent King Street and stately, rushed Beretania. Here, away from the main-stream are small, long-time businesses, the back side of office buildings, garages, small apartment buildings, and the occasional tiny, perfect Hawaii bungalow with mynah birds and doves singing in a front yard plumeria tree. On Young street you can hear your thoughts. Young Barry (Barack) Obama, whose childhood apartment is adjacent to Young street, must have walked the lane many times to collect his thoughts while growing up. And there he was again, during his most recent visit with the ailing Tutu (grandmother) he so often speaks of. No Michelle, no Sasha & Malia giggling this time; just a guy coming home, perhaps for the last time, to the rooms he grew up in, and the accomplished woman from Kansas who, he says, made him what he is today. One afternoon, the presidential candidate strolled down Young Street with the Secret Service at a respectable distance. The young guy with the basketball is now a family man with much more important contests to win, but the passing of an age, of those we love, puts things into perspective doesn’t it? He must have been enjoying the perspective of Young Street till the cameras found him. Pensively he rejoined the caravan. It’s a shame that his privacy was broached, but I am grateful for the few moments’ tape of him walking alone. A local guy walking down the back street, with miles yet to go. . . And speaking of local pride! My childhood Phillies have won the World Series with the help of local hero, Maui Boy, the "Flyin’ Hawaiian" Shane Victorino! In his ballpark locker, Shane has a news article headlined: “Hawaii Wins Little League World Series 08.” Our keiki (kids) inspire us, and now the Big League Bruddah is returning the favor. These tiny specks of island also produced the Beijing Olympics’ “greatest athlete,” decathlon gold medallist, Bryan Clay, soccer golden girl Natasha Kai (I know I’m forgetting others!) plus NFL players like kicker Jason Elam, and Washington quarterback Colt Brennan of last season’s WAC champion, yep, UH . . . (and let’s not forget Jack Johnson) But enough boasting! The Hilton’s Luau on the Lagoon looks to be getting very popular. You can now save yourself a bus ride far out of Waikiki (though Paradise Cove is a great place) while still enjoying torches, hula, games, and too much good food in a lovely setting . . . Jimmy Buffet is opening a huge-mungous restaurant at the Waikiki Beachcomber Hotel early next year. Don Ho’s old showroom was right there, so the atmosphere and acoustics should be right for a little pickin’ & singin’ eh Mr. Margaritaville? Swanning about: Four black swans mysteriously appeared recently at Ala Moana Beach Park. Sunday park goers were astonished at the sight; old-timers (and we get some OOOOLD-timahs) had never seen the like. Stately, poised and grand, the red-billed beauties glided in formation while swimmers kept a respectful distance. They seemed calm and tolerant of humans – though no one knows WHERE they came from! All the nearby Hilton’s wildlife was accounted for. (I mean, hey, would YOU leave free lifetime digs at a destination resort?) And then, as mysteriously as they had appeared . . . they were . . .gone. . . Maunakea, the Big Island’s ‘white mountain’ is once again tipped with snow. The far off white peak viewed against a blue tropic sky and wreathed in green swaying palms is one of the eternal images of Hawaii. Where else can you sled in the morning, ride a fine horse over the high, open range of cowboy Waimea in the afternoon, and surf Kohala’s gold-coast at Pau Hana (happy hour!) time? November 7 – 10th would be a perfect time to fly into Kona International Airport for the annual Kona Coffee Cultural Festival. Small town parades, beauty pageants, tastings, gourmet food events, art exhibitions, AND a coffee picking contest will showcase this unique region. You may even hear a “Kona Nightingale” (mule) braying on the hillside. Red coffee “cherries” falling into a canvas sack on a small family farm or coffee estate, still mean an awful lot to the people and economy of Kona. You can visit the picturesque town of Holualoa on the volcanic slope above Kailua Town, where you’ll find little shops, a small post office, art galleries, and you might even see wisps of volcanic steam arising from vents in the “resting” Hualalai volcano . . . Watching Oscar winner Chloris Leachman gamely dancing on TV got me thinking. It was sort of jarring to see a mature woman being thrown around like that. I started musing about all the times I have seen very old, or very heavy women (and men!) dance hula in public. They moved gracefully (or funny – Uncle!) and have never looked anything less than dignified and beautiful. Sorry for the clichés, but they fit this time. Our mature adults are graceful. They don’t try to copy the moves of the young. They express their Aloha, and have learned the timeless choreography that hula shares with nature: swaying, reaching, and embracing. In Hawaii, everyone is beautiful; and it has zero to do with make-up, a perfect outfit, or conventional “beauty.” Our tropic sun melts all pretension. Here, your posture, grooming, Aloha, and facial expression are your essential wardrobe. So come over to see granny dance, sometime. . . Diamond Head summit, that famous and rewarding hike, will be closed until November 20th. I really should make it up there someday, but it’s been a busy 20 years in Waikiki! Don’t worry: I’ll remember da camera ;-) . . . analog TV will be switched ‘off’ a bit early in the Islands (January 15th) out of respect for the `Ua`u bird (Hawaiian Petrel) which breeds up on the mountain tops in February, and might be disturbed by the dismantling of analog power equipment in those wild places. Good News: a new study has determined that our “deep seven” bottomfish species (Ehu, Gindai, Hapu`upu`u, Kalekale, Lehi, Onaga, and famous Opakapaka) remain more plentiful than previously feared! This means bigger limits for fishermen when the season opens November 15th. The fishery was “closed” last April when the standing ‘catch limit’ was met . . . In 1904 an abandoned Hale Pili (grass shack) from Kauai was shipped to Oahu. The popular Bishop Museum exhibit is being refurbished with now-rare Island Naio, Kauila, Uhiuhi, and Lama woods. So if you ‘wanna go back to a little grass shack’ pay a visit to the museum, which is a world center of Polynesian Studies and a fun place to spend an afternoon. Shout out: Big mahalos to Kaye-Lani and Mr. Wing Chan at Hawaiian Telcom who efficiently swapped my dead computer modem for a lively one with professionalism and aloha. Thanks folks, you made it almost fun! The other day I was putting coins in the meter at Kapiolani Park when a car pulled up in the adjacent spot. As the driver approached, digging in his pockets, I put a nickel in his meter and smiled. He looked pleasantly surprised and thanked me simply as I walked away. The best investment I’ve made in a while! There’s little market risk in paying it forward . . . when you’re walking in Waikiki . . . ALOHA! cloudia


Want to enjoy more Waikiki “street” life? Check out my Hawaii “Taxi Cab” Novel: “Aloha Where You Like Go?” at Amazon.com, local bookstores, or the Hawaii State Library branch near you!

Waikiki Winter

"The face of the enemy frightens me only when I see how much it resembles mine." - Stanislaw J. Lec

"What is tolerance? It is the consequence of humanity. We are all formed of frailty and error; let us pardon reciprocally each other's folly - that is the first law of nature." - Voltaire

"They buried the hatchet, but in a shallow, well-marked grave."

- Dorothy Walworth

Winter has come to Waikiki. . .

The nights are cooling, and it is time to bring out the quilts after months of sleeping only under a thin, rayon pareau (sarong). There is snow atop the Big Island's Maunakea and Miss Kitty's fur is regal & thick once again. Visitors may only feel the relative mildness but we who live here, Kitty & I, we know the changes of this `Aina (land/country) in our bones and in our noses. Crystal sharp trade winds bear the scent of Alaska, of thousands of open ocean miles, and vast empires of sky. They pause to pick up smells from yellow ginger, hidden mosses, and tropical soil, as they push themselves over the green Ko`olau mountains that backdrop our toy city like a misty Asian scroll painting. The character of the clouds tells me it's winter. Is it their shape, activity & colour? Or is it their sense of humor as they tumble mumble and disassemble like Circe de Soliel acrobats above us? The Hawaiians of old found ready messages and wisdom in the clouds. Knowing the Kanaka (Hawaiian person) love of fun and word-play, perhaps certain funny-clouds rained punchlines that made the Kahuna chuckle all day. . . their cirrus & cumulus descendants are not telling; Not even me, their cousin Cloudia. . .

. . . Take a moment. Just a moment to stop & take a moment. Close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Another. Exhale ALL the way. Repeat. Notice the un-noticed sounds surrounding you. Are you cool? Warm? Secretly happy? The clouds won't tell ;-) Just let the thought-express rattle on without you for a while, who cares? YOU don't! Just for a moment. . . Breathe and Be. The moment of calm clarity that arises is yours to keep. Will you?

A L O H A! cloudia

New Modem

Aloha! Like my new modem? Elegant isn't it?

Today I voted. It still gets me excited & humbled...

Back to regular posts tomorrow. . . Mahalo!

Cloudia

photo courtesy: Ted Trimmer

I Hate Sports

I hated sports when I was growing up in sports-mad Philadelphia. Much of civic life and conversation revolved around the Phillies, Eagles, Big 5 College Basketball, and the 76ers. Oh, let me not forget hockey and the Flyers, the "Broad Street Bullies." It seemed to me that all this running around and incomprehensible rules was a waste of time. Worse than that, it was an ENFORCED waste of time. Kid life was like one protracted WWII movie in which knowing baseball facts meant you were "one of us," and being clueless about 'balls' & 'strikes' marked one as a social outcast. My 'sports dyslexia' did gave me lots of time to read, and is probably the Genesis of my literacy appetites and pretensions. "You throw like a girl!" was the huge schoolyard taunt. Gym class, and conversations about pitching or open field running (in which kids repeated what they heard their sports-fanatics parents say) were a gauntlet to run. "How about those Phils?!" was usually safe . . . unless it was basketball season. What a colossal bore! Fortunately, one inning 'out in left field' usually exempted me from further play. "Where's that Kool Aid?

Of course, the sound of By Sahm calling a Phillies game on a tinny am radio became the sound of summer by osmosis, and to this day hearing a baseball game on a radio makes me feel that my grandfather, passed these many years, is sitting nearby groaning about a botched play. And I have one brilliant memory of being taken to see the Phils at the old Connie Mack Stadium. (Pre-Veteran's Stadium, pre-Citizens Bank Field). My father drove us into the very heart of the crowded, red-brick city. Cobblestone streets, trolley tracks and tall buildings didn't say "baseball" to me, and when we entered the stadium, it resembled nothing so much as a factory. Bare girders, and cement floors felt more like the subway than a place for games. Then we topped the aisle and suddenly were looking down at a perfect, GREEN field in the middle of the city. I can still see that GREEN in my mind's eye, bright & iconic as only certain disconnected childhood memories are. But for young me, sports was one of the main things to rebel against. No, I didn't want to go to 'the game.' I'd rather moon about the Philadelphia Museum of Art, visit the University of Pennsylvania's mummys, or read indoors, thank you very much. "Bye now."

After puberty I realized that I'd better act more like a normal person if I wanted to have a 'normal' life. My guy-friend Jim Labig was a Cincinnati Reds fan, and so we went to the "Vet" whenever they were in town. I actually enjoyed being with Jim, the only person I could stand to be around or talk to sometimes. I enjoyed the crowd, the smells, and (strangely) the fact that I couldn't really follow the intricacies of the game made for a relaxing interlude. In those days before cell/mobile phones no one could reach you out at the ball park either.

Fast forward to 1980. I'm on the roof of a building with my schoolmates, overlooking Broad Street. The whole Philadelphia region is buzzing with uncontained glee and relief : the Phillies have won the world series at last, and in a moment they will parade below us! "If only Grandpa could've lived to see this!" we all thought as one.

And now, like Alexander Joy Cartwright, founder of the first professional Baseball Club, the 'Knickerbockers' and acknowledged 'Father of Baseball,' I live in Honolulu. It's my home (and he's buried here). Through a Hawaii player I am again rooting for the Phils. Memories arise....After a Fall day roaring around upstate New York on motorcycles with my pal Frank, head full of fresh wind and foliage vistas, we entered the City around dusk. Suddenly iconic Yankee Stadium, all lit up, rose into view under an Autumn moon. A New York City Saturday night was ahead of me as I thought: 'Remember this moment!" and I know that I always will. . .

Today the Phillies and Maui boy Shane "Flyin Hawaiian" Victorino could win the World Series. Much will play in my head as I watch that game: Philadelphia small kid times, Hawaii Pride, and friends who have passed on too early. But I know too that they live on in the crack of the bat; Once again Grandpa is sitting behind me (I know he's there!) and Jim is beside me on a sunny endless day . . . when I'm at the ball park. . . Because I hate sports. . . Aloha! Cloudia