What Goes Down, Must Go Up

Blog 1746, 28 February 2019, Thursday

Dear friend,

I awoke this morning with this thought: “Hidden away from the dangerous fires of romance and the nefarious entanglements of society….” With that partial thought, not even a sentence, I know where the next chapter of my book is going. To know that makes me happy, so I wrote basic notes, picked up my Study Guide where I have about 25 pages to correct, and headed down to Starbucks. As far as I know, no one else has ever awoken with the word “nefarious” in their head and been happy with it.

I proofread a dozen pages and drank two cups of coffee, then walked back up the hill. My pedometer records climbing eleven stories to get back here, they’re not steps but they’re up the hill. It’s 5,000 steps round trip, a good start to the day. To make it even a better start, when I walked in Jean was getting ready to walk down. So, why not? I walked back down and watched her drink a cup of coffee. She doesn’t really go for the coffee as I do, this is more of an exercise thing for her. After two down trips and two upwards by 9 this morning, I had 11,000 steps and 22 flights of steps climbed, I know how my story will unfold, I’m writing a blog, and (forgive me) I’m enjoying a beautiful morning in Hawaii. Truly, forgive us.

We spend our free time working around his place, today I’m repainting his outside light (no ladder work involved) and Jean’s sorting out his son’s old toys. It’s good to leave a place in better condition than when you arrived, that way they may invite you back. Either that or send you a bill for damages done. It’s hazy outside, neither too hot nor too cold, no rain today; perfect for working. Later Jean and David will go swim in the ocean, I can barely swim, the ocean is not a place for me. I don’t do height well, either. While they are gone, I will push to finish my editing on the Study Guide and set it aside until we get home. That’s it, life in the mid-Pacific in the Olde Sandwich Islands (so named by Captain Cook, who died here). Love,
Jeannmarv

Back to Diamondhead

Blog 1745, 27 February 2019, Wednesday

Dear friend,

Now that’s a lovely title: “Back to Diamondhead.” That’s today, but not until six in the evening. Today we have another day planned, it’s to do what we didn’t do yesterday but by not doing it then we were treated to a fog-free, cloud-free day in the mile-high mountains of Kauai where the average annual rainfall is 436 inches. Today remains a mystery except we’re going north this time.

As we wander, we observe. Here are a few observations that are probably untrue but seem possible, and worse, may contain a 50% truth but none of us know which the true part is. There is only a junior college for higher education on the island, so most of the young ones drift off to colleges, whether it is to Oahu or the States; they seldom come back. However, their place is replaced by a lot of young men (especially) who drift over, get a part-time job, buy a bicycle to get around, and just survive until they return to where they came from or they disappear in the homeless (but non-assertive) camps. I can imagine Dante writing of the lost and wandering souls lost in paradise who eventually forget they are in paradise. This is more of a snorkeling place than surfing, I’m sure the rockiness of the shores has a lot to do with that. I haven’t been in the water (nor will I be), and there are more people on the beaches than in the water, making me think the water is cooler here. Of all the island chains in the world, the Hawaiian (formerly Sandwich) Islands are the most distant from any other land, add to that Kauai is farthest west of the islands (except for the unwelcoming rock island of Niihau where outsiders are not welcomed), it’s sort of an end of the world experience (literally) from which one either returns or remains lost. Yet the people are charming, friendly, and helpful and the banana crème pie is awesome.

Speaking of not knowing, yesterday morning I awoke cold. I checked the weather forecast, the temperature had dipped down to sixty-six degrees F. That’s only 44 degrees above freezing and typical for the high in Seattle in June. The humidity was also 66%. That’s not cold! I couldn’t believe it when Jean said she slept fine through the night with only a sheet and a thin bedspread while Mr. Body-heat himself was uncomfortably cool. There is no answer, but I’d still bring a sweatshirt if I were to come here again. With that and until tomorrow from Oahu, “Aloha.” Love,
Jeannmarv

The Real Tuesday, Almost

Blog 1744, 26 February 2019, Tuesday

Dear friends,

I woke up cold. I’m in Hawaii and I wasn’t expecting to be cold, yet cold I am. We have an air-conditioner in the room, but it doesn’t have a heat switch, only cool to cold. We’re on Kauai, west of the major islands. It is the wettest place on earth, averaging almost 450 inches of rain a year—but only on the mountain top. Other places on the island average under 20 inches a year, half of what we get in Seattle. With only a sheet and thing bedspread, I slept with my towel wrapped around my feet and got up and put my jeans I’d packed only for the sake of bulk, which now I see I wisely packed. It may only be today that it’s cold, but if I see our friend David come out in a hooded jacket and long pants, I’ll know there’s something he forgot to tell us about Kauai. When and if you ever come to Kauai, bring a sweatshirt.

We landed after dark so I haven’t seen this place, but here is a partial list of the movies shot here on Kauai: Lilo and Stitch, Hawaii, Hook, The Thorn Birds, Pirates of the Caribbean, Jurassic Park Jurassic World, The Hawaiians, The Lost World, The Time Machine, Diamond Head, Fantasy Island, King Kong, Lord of the Flies South Pacific, Raiders of the Lost Ark, and Blue Hawaii. There are two roads leading out of town (Lihue), one to the north and one to the west. We return by the road we took, one third of the island is without a connecting road. There are four-wheel drive rentals for the more daring.

Before I could get back and finish this blog, we were off and rolling. Because this is exotic Kauai, our first stop of the day was at Wal-Mart (we bought post cards) and then the P.O. for stamps. The day came in looking to be wonderful weather-wise, so we scrapped the venture to the north side of the island and went east to climb (drive up) to the Kalalau Lookout high on the west side of the island, then wind our way back with random stops to take a picture of two. The highlight of the day came at MCS Grill, 1-3529 Kaumuali’s Hwy, Suite A, Hanapepe, HI 96716. Besides loving any street name with an apostrophe-S in its name, the banana crème pie was as good as I’ve ever tasted in America. Everything else was fine, but the pie was to kill for. I think the name of the place is really McS but I’m not sure. Four dollars a slice, I had one.

We were exhausted when we got home, all three of us. How tired, you ask? We all skipped dinner. One more day in Kauai tomorrow and then catch the plane that evening, back to Honolulu. A week from Thursday, Seattle! I’m ready. Love,
Jeannmarv

Actually, it’s a Monday

Blog 1743, 26 February 2019, Tuesday

Dear friend,

It’s 8 p.m. Hawaiian time, but 4 a.m. Greenwich Mean time when my computer jumps into tomorrow, ten hours before we do. So, anything properly dated the 25 of February, which is what it is here and now, must be posted before 2 p.m. Thus, and therefore, although I write on the 25th my Blog Site doesn’t think so. And which of us is dealing with reality? I’m being bullied into that data bank’s reality. My solution, put today’s date on tomorrow’s blog because it is, after all, still today.

Today I fixed our friend’s stereo that stopped working several months ago. Here’s how I did it: I hit the power button, the blue light came on indicating power, but nothing happened. So, the next button I hit the “Pause Button” and the blue light went out, then four seconds later the radio came back on. His stereo worked just fine and if you hit the pause button in order to talk on the phone, it gives you a blue light to remind you that the pause had been pushed. It wasn’t the power button, it was a booby trap for the unsuspecting.

In celebration for my success (lucky though it be), I reheated the leftovers from last night and ate the remainder of the chuck roast stew. When David came home and saw I’d solved the stereo system (one speaker still doesn’t work, but it will), he then saw the empty Tupperware bowl in the sink and announced I’d eaten the wrong leftovers. What I’d eaten was going to a family of two and my portion was in a different container. To prove my guilt, I laughed and told him to call the people and tell them what had happened to their dinner. He didn’t tell me there were two containers, he said mine was in the fridge. You don’t communicate, you lose and I eat well. Apparently, I’m not the easiest visitor to have, especially if there’s food in the house.

We flew to Kauai this evening on a Boeing V-717, a plane I don’t remember hearing about. Kauai is the birthplace of his mother. Jean stopped me from asking him if his mother was a Kauai baby when she was little. I don’t know if she was protecting David or I, both of whom need constant protection. Another highlights of the day is I told Jean, “It is easier to live with someone who has no standards than it is the other way around. And this is a true statement as long as you are the one without standards.” She didn’t think it was funny.

I asked her, “If it’s not moving, is it still traffic?” and I was greeted by poignant silence.

I told her I was always good for advice, it’s just not always good advice. More silence

Then she recited the repeated refrain (or chorus) on the radio station she was listening to that went like this: “God is great, beer is good … and people are crazy.” It ranks up with this line heard on NPR: “They put a gun to my head and blew my heart away.” I accepted her Country-Western lines with poignant silence. We continue with our usual patterns: humor, silence, and groans. There’s a reason why we used to travel in Africa with our own psychiatrist, I’m pretty sure Sister Sheila misses us. We’re well, trying for good, and enjoying the mystery of adventure. Love,
Jeannmarv

Sunday’s Sermon

Blog 1742, 24 February 2019, Sunday

Dear friend,

In the Study Guide (think workbook but don’t say it aloud) I’m working on is the question, “Do you remember last Sunday’s sermon?” It’s a terrible question, most of the time I couldn’t have answered that question. Ask me this week, I’ll have an answer.

Today’s sermon was based on Luke 6:27-38: Love your enemies, Do not judge, Forgive and you will be forgiven. It was an easy subject. If the preacher had stayed with the text, I could have forgotten it, but no, she turned to the Joseph in the Old Testament story. See, as she cited the N.T. verses, I was smugly aware that I don’t think I have any enemies, I was doing OK, not especially judgmental, and all those lies we tell ourselves when we hear those verses. But then the preacher strayed. I followed her as unaware as a sleep going to slaughter.

She gave a short version of the Joseph story, how he’d been favored, had irritated his bothers, almost been killed and sold into slavery. God brought him to a place where he was able to judge his own brothers without their knowledge of who he was. He showed them mercy when they had no right to expect mercy. You know the story, but in the congregation this day, sitting in the shadow of a pillar in a National Heritage church, the Makiki Christian Church, I wondered, “If I were to judge my sister, what would I do?” She and I have a history that goes back a long way. I pretty sure she doesn’t like me for multiple reasons, many of which probably occurred in those years when I was living with alcohol. For my part, I wasn’t wild about getting about 20% of a 50% inheritance from my mother’s estate, roughly 40% of what my only sibling got and less than my niece and her two children got, done in a will written only two months before my mother died. We don’t have a smooth relationship, however, over the phone we do OK. Her problems and political opinions and values are almost perfectly opposite of mine, the only aspect we have in common is that we’re both Republicans; she is a modern one and I and an Olde Time Republican who longs for a real Republican candidate and will continue to vote wildly as the mood strikes me until that real one shows up (translation: we disagree here, too).

If I were one to be able to judge her unknown, like Joseph I would forgive her, grant her mercy and protection, but I would do so only to obey my Lord’s directive. I would. And then I’d try to convince myself that I did so because it was right and not because I’m a petty grump who only did what was right because I knew I had to. It’s not the same thing as why Joseph did it: mine’s the behavior of a sinful coward. It’s still right, but not as noble as I’d want everyone to believe. Oh yes, I’ll remember this sermon. And when I finish the blog, I’ll probably call my sister and talk with her, proving my hypocrisy. If you’ll still accept it from the me of us, we close with love,
Jeannmarv

North Shoring

Blog 1741, 23 February 2019, Saturday

Dear friend,
Dr. Kay DeWeese has a Ph.D. in education, was the inspector of all Pacific Rim Elementary Schools for the military, retired and has served nearly 20 years at the Maasae Girls Lutheran Secondary School, tutoring the incoming bush girls in fields they may not know, including English, math, geography, and a few more practical things. She carries on with the blessed job of loving the students even after Jean and I have left. She is a first-hand witness of the miracle of education and the impact it can have. With another friend, Donna, those two master teachers change the course of many lives. It is our privilege today to visit with Kay and hear about this last year’s class. These students will be the class of 2024. Kay and Donna are building for a future few ever consider, being heroes to the girls and to us. Also, she lives in a plenty-cool place on the North Shore although her yard suffered quite a bit of damage this winter. The storm destroyed some of the foliage in her narrow yard between the white sand beach and her house. She said the salt blown off the waves made her windows look opaque like a fogged bathroom window. It took several washings to clean the windows.

Kay was at the Girls School from September to December, last year. You can tell that she loves being there, making a difference in their lives. We’re family with them and they are our nieces, students, and hopes for the future of Tanzania and of their people. We laughed today how easy a life we could lead here in America, and instead invest our time, money, health, and hearts to make the world a better place, one little step at a time, one special student after another. We agree with this: We are blessed.

We had to drive halfway around Oahu to visit Kay. Three-quarters of the way around the island has no freeway, which is mostly located in the Honolulu area, Along the beach road, the only road around the island, wherever the surfing is good and the beach is lovely, there’s an actual speed of about 5 mph no matter what the sign says. There are two “shortcuts” around the island, one of which is blocked by a double landslide. So, we did a lot of single digit speed driving, including keeping pace with a bicyclist riding uphill beside us. Eventually we pulled away from him.

I think I’d been under-eating. Last night (Friday) one of those meals arose where, at a very nice fish restaurant, I ate my dinner, and finished off three other meals. I just kept eating, and when the people we were with were full, they offered me what was left and I ate it all. And worse, I still wasn’t full. It’s embarrassing, the others we were eating with were probably horrified. It’s happened to me before, I’ve seen it happen to others. Love,
Jeannmarv

Escaping the Heat

Blog 1740, 22 February 2019, Friday

Dear friend,

So, what do you do when the weather outside is perfect? Well, Jean went her way and saw a movie she really liked, The Green Book, whereas I was at the science-fiction Alita and left frustrated. My movie started well but then went big budget and mindlessly Hollywood with big machine men and the little, big-eyed heroine who overcame all the evil, except for the closing scene when she was looking up where the big bad guy waited for her. That’s announcing a sequel. When they make it, I won’t see it. My movie was more spectacular, hers had a plot. I love plot! The theater was so over air-conditioned we both wore heavier clothing.

This morning as I walked, I was passed by a woman riding a bike with electric tires. Actually, they were lights wound through the spokes, Seahawk colors of green and blue. It was gorgeous. I wanted some. Then the idiots who’ve try to run me down with their cars might even see me. I’ve quit riding in Bellevue because of that little reason, I have enough problems as a pedestrian.

Jean had an experience that’s noteworthy. We were in someone’s house and they had some “gummy bears” kind of candy there. The host said, “That’s CVL” to Jean as she popped a piece in her mouth. I, barely listening, asked the host, “Is that hemp?” but Jean was already chewing it. “So?” she asked, swallowing it. “Marijuana,” I said. “No, it isn’t,” she declared as if that made it so. About ten minutes later she wasn’t feeling quite right. It took her two hours to get it out of her system, drinking much water. I didn’t tell her how much better cookies taste then. My guess is that Jean won’t be sampling candies anymore. Her lifetime experience of dealing with marijuana is one 20 mg Hemp Oil Extract chewy candy, 1 mg Melatonin, 10 calories. She’s embarrassed about it but let’s me tell the story as a cautionary tale for your sake. Know what you’re ingesting. Love,
Jeannmarv

Adventures in Paradise

Blog 1739, 21 February 2019, Thursday

Dear Reader,

Apparently, I’m a bit like some of the modern news stations: if I don’t find the news, I’ll make the news. Somehow, a trip to Starbucks ought not be too complicated. Here are my mostly innocent observations:

There’s something wrong with driving a Toyota truck called Tundra in Hawaii!

Marvin Cannon is a forward for the WSU Cougars. I want a picture of “Marvin Cannon an’ Marvin Kananen.”

Hey, Seattle! My Kahala Starbucks opens at 3:30 A.M. (and 4 on Sunday).

In walking to Starbucks, I passed a freezer, air conditioner, stove, barbeque, and two microwaves in front of houses, free to good homes.

The local movie theater was showing Van Gogh so I went to see it. The tickets are expensive here, $9.25 with senior discount. The millennial at the ticket booth said it was $18 because it was a one-show only program. “Pity,” I said to him and walked back. I think the King County Library System will be a little cheaper.

As I walked out of the house this morning, the coolness of the driveway felt good until I realized I wasn’t wearing shoes. Oh, I had to go back and get them. And mornings are when I say my brain is the sharpest.

And, finally, my walk from David’s house to Starbucks involves a shortcut between roads. It’s paved and legal and cuts the journey in less than half and keeps me from walking along roads with no sidewalk, especially dangerous in the dark. In the morning I walked down and back. Not a wow statement. But when I went back down to see the movie I eventually didn’t see, there was a “Trail Closed” strip across the trail and an orange plastic fence that I stepped over on the other end. Coming back, there were five workers on the trail. Knowing what I was doing, I stepped over the orange fence and knew I’d be talking to someone soon. Said the first one I encountered, “This trail is closed.” “And I only know one way to get to where I’m staying. I came in last night, after dark, and I have no idea how to get there except on this trail.” I stood there, facing him, he said, “Well, OK this time, but don’t do it again.” Ah, he caved in. And if he’s there tomorrow at 4 A.M. he’ll get another chance to stop me.

It’ll be 81 degrees tomorrow and for the next six days, Jean is going to see The Green Book and I’ll go see Alita: Battle Angel. We’re seeing all the famous highlights of Hawaii. We’ll be up on the North Shore on Saturday and Kauai on Monday, but neither place offers previews. Oh, well. Love,
Jeannmarv

Waking in Hawai’i

Blog 1738, 20 February 2019, Wednesday

Dear friend,

Oh, beware of those cheapest flight. The flight on Alaska to LA was a smooth-flowing non-event. Getting off the plane in Honolulu from the United flight was also good. Between those two good events was the flight from LA to Hawaii where was found the trials and adventures. Let us figure out how quickly a flight can go bad.

Not the least of all figures, personally, I was seated in row 40 of the 40-rowed plane. My seat didn’t recline, my leg room was minimal, meaning for the entire flight I sat upright. The gentleman in front of me was even a greater figure than I was, by about four inches although our weights were probably comparable. In order to fit in his seat, he had to recline. That removed the four-inch height difference. The seat next to him was vacant until the last person on the plane boarded, took his seat, and immediately yelped in pain and grabbed his side as he sat down. The plane’s steward (she was a stewardess but in the interest of being politically correct, for once, I use the word steward) was right there, asked about the verbal wince. After appropriate groaning, and I think realizing that the flight was full and they weren’t going to move him up to first-class, the gentleman sat back down without effort or pain. I was in the seat behind him.

But they do not cross 2,500 miles of ocean with a potential medical situation; she called the paramedics. They insisted they take his pulse, blood pressure, and sugar count (he’d admitted being a diabetic). He chose to decline their kind offer. He was then informed that they could not fly unless they performed the screenings, assuring him their vehicle was just off the plane and he’d be back on in three minutes. After a five-minute debate, he went, walking unassisted. He’d said, “But my family is waiting for me in Honolulu, I’ve got to get there,” to ears of those who dared not heed, having their policy well understood. He got off the plane. Ten minutes later (and well past our launch time), a nice looking, smallish Asian gentleman took his place. Then we were ready to go, but instead we waited for an hour. After it was over, a brief mumbled message from the captain assured us it was a medical emergency and we’d have to wait. We waited.

One hour into the flight, Jean, enwrapt in a movie, observed to the lady next to her that that was the smoothest take-off she’d ever experience. The lady next to her said, “Honey, we haven’t left yet.” Jean was halfway through the movie. Oh?

By the time we left, we were 90 minutes late. The staff came by and immediately rewarded us with a little, bitty packet of stick pretzels. I had a diet Coke. Later in the amazingly bumpy flight they came by twice with water. The informed us with another mumbled message that it was time to put our trays up, seats up (and the knees rejoiced) and prepare for landing, which we did—an hour later! We arrived at Honolulu just as our friend David pulled up. Knowing the plane was late, he circled the airport four times (you really can’t stop and wait for someone at the Honolulu airport) and showed up within 20 seconds of when we arrived. Except for the United part, it was a marvelous trip. We fly back on Delta.

We’re well and in Hawaii. It felt like getting off the plane in Africa into warm temperatures, but the smells are much more pleasant here, details not provided. It’s time to walk down for coffee. It’s good to be back. Love,
Jeannmarv

Packing Too Soon

Blog 1737, 18 February 2019, Monday

Dear friend,

When you’re anxious to be gone, it’s hard not to pack your toothbrushes and whatever it is you might still want to use before you’re really ready to leave. I’m ready but Jean keeps complicating my packing with odd requests, you know, needless things like both socks, a second pair of underwear (but we’re only there two weeks), more than one shirt with buttons. Actually that was a lie, I’m not bringing any socks. Or shoes; a pair of sandals will suffice me, as they did in last year’s African and European travels. Along with two books, three journals, a workbook and text for editing, and six pens (one red, one blue, one green, and three black), I’m packed. It’s a few days early to sit in the car and wait for the drive to the airport, but I’d be willing.

Via “What’s App,” we heard from Tanzania last night. Our Rebecca said phone service has been like that all over the country. It’s Tuesday when she goes up to Nairobi. They’ll make casts of her stumps and then send her home. She’ll return when the legs are done. They’ll probably keep her for a week on the second trip as she learns how to use them, care for them, and she might be able to take the bus home rather than two taxis, one to the border and the other to complete the journey. She’s fine, no drugs, maybe no tapping of the line (however, if they did, that’s the way Tanzania would do it—simply cut the call off). This is a major week in our Rebecca’s life, for the rest of her life she’ll be better off although it’ll take a lot of constant energy and effort. That’s all good news, now if it will only happen. It’s OK to pray for her.

Considering I’m one who’s had as small a working career as you can imagine (more jobs, less work), I’m never without work. I think I’ve just trained myself to work without pay, which would explain my willingness to write so much. I’m used to not getting paid. (Fact check: this year I earned more money than I spent on writing deductions by a hundred dollars. Big time!) Now, the subject of this paragraph is my need to always be working, so I’m bringing three projects. One: the Study Guide that’s almost done; Two: rewrite the last story that was rejected; Three: find a third project. That third project strikes me as being poignantly pathetic. Someone at church once said, “You don’t know what it means to be retired until you’ve got NOTHING to do.” He may be right, I don’t know yet. With that, “Aloha.” Love,
Jeannmarv

P.S. My blog site skips to tomorrow at midnight, Greenwich Time, which is 4 P.M. Seattle time and Hawai’i time is two hours ahead of us, so my blogs deadline date line will jump to 2 P.M., Hawaiian time. Thus my dates on top of my blogs are even less likely to agree with the day on the top line. I don’t think time and dates have a whole lot to do with reality.