365 photo challenge: invite

This is a fun challenge, although it’s not always easy to come up with the perfect photo for the “word-du-jour.” But it’s great trying. So if you’d like to join the fun, check out the details on the blog, my life in photos: 365 challenge. She’s always got great stories to go with her pictures.

Teatro Zinzannia blend of Cirque du Soleil and Broadway, fulfills its promise of a night to remember. The fast-paced spectacle caters to adults because of its bawdy humor, but I find it no more objectionable than films that are rated PG-13. When we’ve gone, the master-of-ceremonies, different each time, has embarked on a classy, but definitely gay, modus operandi. God help the men in the audience! They’re easy pickings for some good, old-fashioned, tongue-in-cheek humor. Throughout the show those who have involuntarily “volunteered,” find themselves the center of attention. Women needn’t hold their breaths nor keep their eyes averted, for they’re rarely called upon to make a special appearance. While I’ve relaxed completely, my husband has tried to appear invisible, sitting back into the shadows of our booth. But it’s all in good fun, and nobody is maimed in the delivery of a great show.

Duffy Bishop belts out the music in "Radio Free Starlight" at Teatro ZinZanni. The costumes are gorgeous, colorful, whimsical, over-the-top! Audience members are welcome to dress up as well. In fact, the gift shop is equipped to accessorize those who want feather boas to drape around their necks, or glittering masks behind which to take refuge, or stylized hats to add the finishing touch to a woman’s “crowning glory.” Baubles glitter within glass cases, perhaps a ring for each finger, or bangles that swath the length of one’s forearm, or a tie awash in crystals to accent a simple, black dress.

The minute I step inside the front door of Teatro Zinzanni, I find myself whisked back to a time when an evening out included dark, velvet curtains, a glass of bubbly, an underlying excitement barely contained, eyes darting everywhere soaking up the circus-like atmosphere, women dressed for the occasion, men minding their p’s and q’s, performers mingling, heightening everyone’s expectations of a fantastic evening.

And by the way, a wonderful dinner of several courses is part of the act. The night’s entertainment unfolds around the appetizer, the soup, the salad, the entree and the dessert. What an imaginative way to help the digestive process. I’ve heard that laughter is good for the waistline. Believe me you’ll be skinnier at the end of the evening, what with all your belly-laughing.

So for an uproarious good time………………………………………..you’re invited      

and tell them………………………………………………………..hugmamma sent you!!! 

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weekly photo challenge: ocean

rather be looking down from my lofty perch, than sitting in a tiny boat on the vast expanse of open ocean …………………………………………..hugmamma.

365 photo challenge: discontinuing

Today’s challenge word is discontinuing. Let’s see if I can nail this one. Hmmm…

my grandkitty is always “pulling the plug” on our photo shoots…he likes to play “dead” so i’ll leave him alone………………………………………….hugmamma.

street newspaper: japan’s “big issue”

Street newspapers are a phenomenal, global network. I was touched to read that even in the midst of Japan‘s devastation, a street newspaper struggles to survive, its vendors dependent upon its existence, for their own meagre livelihoods. What strikes me as macabre in the aftermath of Mother Nature‘s triple threat, the earthquake, the tsunami, and the nuclear disaster, is that Sendai is now home to thousands more homeless. The following article ran in the Real Change. It gives a first hand account of the people’s attempts to recover from the horrific blow dealt them. 

JAPAN’S STREET NEWSPAPER STRUGGLES AMID DISASTER

THE BIG ISSUE JAPAN / ビッグイシュー日本版

Image by jetalone via Flickr

Vendors and staff at The Big Issue Japan are struggling in the wake of the earthquake and tsunami that has devastated the nation.

Miku Sano of The Big Issue Japan said in an email to partner newspapers that in Sendai, which bore the brunt of the tsunami, vendors survived but are unable to sell the magazine. “Things are not easy and will not be the same, but we are not defeated,” Sano wrote.

“The vendors and people in Northern cities are fighting for their lives and for the loved ones. We are trying the best we can to support them.”

Distribution of the magazine is impossible in northern cities, “hence, the vendors in Sapporo have nothing to sell,” Sano said. There are plans to re-start football practice in Tokyo, as “many of our vendors said that they want to play football to feel better.”

(If you want to contribute to the efforts of The Big Issue Japan, there is an English language site for donations: http://www.jcie.org/earthquake)

Night View of Sendai City, Japan

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Diary of a disaster
The Big Issue Japan works with the Sendai Night Patrol Group to help the homeless in Sendai City. Staff members have been providing free meals for anyone sleeping rough as the city attempts to recover from the disaster. Aoiki san, head of the patrol team and magazine distribution in Sendai, allowed us to publish extracts from his diary about the relief effort:

March 14: In Sendai, the supply of water and electricity was restored in some parts, but it will take more than a month to restore gas supply. In the Wakabayashi area, the worst affected area within Sendai city, I saw a very long queue of people trying to get half-rotten oranges and only one banana. A thousand dead bodies are left unattended in a gymnasium, and there is no information about those unaccounted for. We are planning to provide free meals of curry rice for everyone from 11 a.m. The death toll is too big to comprehend, and many people seem to know nothing about what to do.

Sendai Airport in Natori and Iwanuma, Miyagi p...

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March 15: Roads, airlines and trains are not allowed to run except for emergency vehicles, and there is the dire prospect of a shortage of goods. More than 1,000 people queued for a motorway bus. I joined a queue for Daiei Supermarket before its opening at 10 a.m., but 30 minutes after the opening, major goods had already gone. There is a shortage of gas cylinders, noodles, tinned food, batteries and rice.

March 16: Public administration is completely paralyzed. Sendai City Council opened a help desk today, four days after the earthquake. Hospitals in the city are only able to provide a partial service due to electricity shortages. Without a battery-powered radio, people are getting no information at all. Many citizens don’t know about the accidents at Fukushima nuclear plant. Local radio stations help people to find out about missing persons. Strong aftershocks at 3 a.m. and 4 a.m.

March 17: Today the local radio announced about the food at Wakabayashi City Hall, so we had to make 1,000 meals. We gave out curry, miso soup and rice for about 800 people and it was gone in a second. Some hadn’t eaten for three days and queued for the food in the rain.

I am worried becuse there’s no information about what’s going on at the nuclear power plant. I am worried about the radioactive contamination for the north Kanto region because of the north winds. There are thousands of people sleeping in the elementary schools, city halls and public halls. I will do my best to provide free meals tomorrow, although we may run out of stock if we do so.

(Translated by Mayuko Hida and Yushin Toda – University of Glasgow)       

street paper, off-the-beaten-track news

 

Uploaded by Real Change and owned by Real Chan...

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Picked up Seattle’s street paper, Real Change, from a vendor I’ve now seen for the second time outside the local Trader Joe’s supermarket. I’ll have to ask his name the next time; he’s very helpful, pushing empty carts back into their storage areas. He even came running as I dashed between the rain drops, taking the cart and returning it for me. 

A dollar per newspaper isn’t cheap by today’s standards, and I usually hand over $2 for one paper. I can’t help but feel it’s such a small price to pay to help another human being get by. But in addition to this feel good gesture, I look forward to finding “small stories” that are absent from mainstream media. To my pleasant surprise, Real Change ran an article about Hawaii and the white man’s role in its history.

Anyone who has read or heard anything substantive about Hawaii’s history, will probably  empathize with the natives who were out-maneuvered in terms of land wealth and self-governance. Unfortunately theirs is not a unique story; the Native Americans tell a similar one. Both have the same unhappy endings, although the Indians are making a tremendous comeback with their casinos.

But the romanticism of bygone days living off the land, taking only what was needed for sustenance, allowing Mother Earth to care for all species equally, was brought to an abrupt end. Buffalo were killed making way for trains, and the Indians were corralled onto Reservations, becoming the first recipients of government welfare.

Sarah Vowell signing books after a lecture at ...

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“Saying hello to the Aloha State‘s complicated history” is an interview with author Sarah Vowell. Guessing from the accompanying photo, she looks to be in her early 30’s. I was impressed to think someone her age was so attuned to the sad events that had transpired in my ancestral history. But when I learned that Vowell is part Cherokee, I understood her interest in Hawaii’s dealings with the white man. To do her voice justice, I am letting the author of Unfamiliar Fishes speak for herself.

Cover of

Cover of The Wordy Shipmates

Cover of

Cover of Assassination Vacation

Sarah Vowell is a very, very busy person. She’s the New York Times bestselling author of “Assassination Vacation” and “The Wordy Shipmates,” a frequent contributor to Public Radio International‘s “This American Life” and she serves on the board of Dave Egger’s educational nonprofit organization 826NYC. She even lent her trademark deadpan vocal delivery to Pixar’s 2004 animated feature “The Incredibles.”

Vowell’s writing combines conventions of history, journalism and tongue-in-cheek satire that is often as hilarious as it is thought-provoking. She revels in the absurdities and contradictions of American history, exposing the hypocrasies of power while remaining personally committed to the ideals upon which our democracy was founded. Her latest book, “Unfamiliar Fishes,” explores the history of Hawaii, and the American missionaries, sailors, plantation owners and imperialists who arrived on its shores in the 19th century. Vowell recently took some time out of her busy schedule to discuss her work with Real Change. …

What is the historical significance of the glop of macaroni salad on a Hawaiian plate lunch?
On a Hawaiian plate lunch, which is a traditional mixed plate that is served throughout the Hawaiian islands, there is always a scoop of macaroni salad along with two scoops of Japanese style rice and then some sort of Asian or Polynesian fish or meat. The macaroni salad is this little American anomaly amidst that Pacific smorgasbord and the whole lunch hints at the multiethnic saga that is the history of Hawaii, starting with the arrival of the New England missionaries in 1820 and going up through the 19th century when the missionaries and their offspring founded the sugar plantations that became the foundation of the Hawaiian economy for about a century. And for those plantations to run, those New Englanders and their descendants had to import labor from all over the world–Japan, China, the Philippines and Korea–but also Portugal, and to a lesser extent Norway. My book is mostly about those people: the Haole, the Caucasians, the Americans who showed up and changed the islands. And so a glop of macaroni salad is not just a glop of macaroni salad: It’s indicative of centuries of change.

How do the words “aloha” and “haole” represent the differences between Hawaiian and Western cultures?
“Aloha” is to my mind the most Hawaiian word, and on the mainland we just hear that it means “hello” and “goodbye,” which is true and it also basically means “love.” But, literally translated, it has to do with the word “breath.” It can mean “the breath of life,” and the reason it’s said as a greeting is that the traditional Polynesian greeting is when two people touch noses and then literally breathe each other in.

Now the word “haole”–which also contains that word “ha,” the word for breath–there’s a sort of old wives’ tale or myth that the word “haole” connotes “without breath,” because the first Westerners who came to the islands, they did not greet one another in traditional Hawaiian. So, it’s supposed to be symbolic of how alienated the white people are from the breath of life. But really, it’s an old word and it can mean anything non-native including plants or animals. The story that I tell in the book is basically about the coming of the white people in general and the New Englanders in particular. These people changed the islands and a lot of native Hawaiians think for the worse. Besides their ideas about Christianity, capitalism and private land ownership, they also brought with them their diseases, which had a devastating effect on the native population, just as it did in the Americas. So the coming of the whites to Hawaii is a pretty complicated story and there’s some resentment toward those people on the part of native Hawaiians, which I find understandable.

Native Hawaiians

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Generally though, Hawaii is a pretty easy-going, accepting place, and because of its multiethnic heritage, it is wildly integrated, especially compared to the rest of the country. It’s rare to find someone who was born in Hawaii who is just one race. Even the people who identify as native Hawaiian might have Chinese grandparents and American grandparents. But the origins of that are kind of nefarious. The reason that so many different kinds of people were shipped there wasn’t because the sugar plantation owners had this “It’s a small world after all” mentality. Their goal was to bring in workers from as many different places as possible because they felt that people who  spoke different languages were less likely to organize against the plantation owners.

How did the arrival of the New England missionaries in 1820 affect the institutions of Hawaiian society?
Radically. Those missionaries, they were smart people. As New Englanders, they were pretty democratic: Their only goal was to usher as many people into heaven as possible and they didn’t care whether those people were commoners or chiefs. But they recognized that because Hawaiian society was so hierarchical, they were going to have to convert and convince the monarchs and the other aristocrats first. And by sucking up to the ruling class, one major impact the missionaries had on society at large was convincing the Hawaiian government to outlaw fornication and adultery and to regulate liquor. Just as the first New England missionaries arrived, the first New England whalers had pretty much opposite goals than the missionaries, and so the Hawaiians got to witness Americans at our worst, at both our most puritanical and our most Orlando spring break.

Then, when the missionaries and their offspring started the sugar plantations, that completely revolutionized the Hawaiian landscape. They built these complicated, engineered irrigation ditches and diverted water so that places that had been dusty dry plains and near deserts became green with sugar cane. In traditional Hawaiian society, land had been held communally and was managed by the chief in concert with the commoners, but with the sugar trade, it became the American capitalist system of plantations overseen and owned mostly by white people and worked mostly by foreign workers. The native Hawaiians were increasingly shut out of their land and the Hawaiian population was decimated by as much as 80, maybe 90 percent, just by disease, so it’s hard to overemphasize how much impact the haoles had on Hawaiian life, government, culture, everything.

You write about David Malo as a figure who embodies the transitional period of Hawaiian history between traditional culture and Westernization. How does his life and work capture this?
Well, he’s a really interesting figure, and probably because he’s a writer, I really identify with him. When the first missionaries showed up, he was pretty old. He was nearing 30 when they taught him to read and write, and he happened to be, luckily, one of the Hawaiians who had been the keepers of the oral tradition. So he knew all the old chants and genealogies and was intimately aware and knowledgeable of all the old customs and the stories of the old chiefs and priests and the old religion. So after the missionaries taught him to read and write, he wrote “Hawaiian Antiquities.” He also became a very devout Christian and was eventually ordained as a minister.

But later in life, he still had nostalgia for the old ways even though he (was) a true servant of Jesus Christ. He wrote this rather melancholy letter to some Hawaiian friends that I quote in the title to my book: “If a big wave comes in, large and unfamiliar fishes will come from the dark ocean and when they see the small fishes of the shallows they will eat them up.” And it turned out to be the truth. When he died, he asked to be buried up this hill that was really hard to get to because he just wanted to be where no white man would build a house. But his book is really quite beautiful.

Native Hawaiians

Image via Wikipedia

The events leading up to the U.S. annexation of Hawaii were driven by the opposing ideals of Lorrin Thurston and Queen Liliuokalani. Can you explain the political and cultural conflicts between these two figures?
Lorrin Thurston’s major problem with Queen Liliuokalani was just that she was a queen. Even though he was born in Hawaii and because he was a descendant of the missionaries, the whole idea of monarchy was just something to disdain. And that is something I can kind of identify with. To me, there’s no inherent value in monarchy. That said, the Hawaiian kingdom was an established constitutional monarchy and as monarchies go, it was wildly inclusive. I mean, the Hawaiian monarchs welcomed all these foreigners into their kingdom and into their government, including Thurston.

Ship's landing force at the time of the overth...

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Although to me there’s nothing inherently great about a queen, she was, I think, for that time and place, pretty much the ideal ruler. She was an impressive person who was schooled by the missionaries, so she was a very devout Christian who at the same time was a very proud and knowledgeable native Hawaiian. So by the time the queen became the queen she was plotting to reverse that constitution which had also severely limited native Hawaiians’ right to vote for their representatives. That’s when Thurston and his pals conspired to oust her to support their own sham of a constitution. Even though she had overwhelming native support, the native population was in such decline that there just weren’t enough of them to put up much of a fight.

The Three Cherokee. Came over from the head of...

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You write about a double-sided view of American history that you have come to know through your own experience. How does Hawaii represent this notion of America as two places at once?
I’m part Cherokee and was born in Oklahoma because some of my ancestors were forced by the U.S. Army at gunpoint to march across the country in what came to be called the Trail of Tears. So, that’s always been a little bit of a caveat to the story of American exceptionalism that I was certainly taught in school. You know, I’m all for self-government and the First Amendment and all that stuff–but there’s always a part of me that knows firsthand about the failures of those ideals.

The annexation of Hawaii, as many of the dissenters of the time pointed out, really does contradict the ideals put forth in the Declaration of Independence. In 1898, when the U.S. annexed Hawaii along with Guam and Puerto Rico and invaded the Philippines and Cuba, we became a global empire overnight. A group of Americans, a lot of them in the highest echelons of the government, were more concerned with power and greatness than our core ideals of republican forms of government. One of those men was Henry Cabot Lodge and he gave (this speech) in 1900 to poo-poo all of the anti-imperialist sissies where he just demolished the idea that consent of the governed is even possible. He talked about Thomas Jefferson, the author of that phrase, being the greatest expansionist in American history who, when he negotiated the Louisiana Purchase, acquired the biggest chunk of land at once that we had ever acquired, and it didn’t even occur to him to ask the consent of all the French colonials and Indians who were living out on that vast continent he had just taken over. So, I think Lodge sort of has a point.

It is interesting to me that throughout American history, this idea of government based on the consent of the governed is at our core, but also this contradictory process of expansion. The Hawaiian annexation definitely is a part of that because the Hawaiian people, once annexation was afoot, they rallied and collected thousands and thousands of signatures and sent them to Congress, protesting annexation. It was definitely something that the Hawaiian people were completely against and yet the United States annexed those islands anyway. So, I guess in that sense it jibes with my view of the country as having these lofty ideals that we frequently betray.

Interviewed by Robert Alford
Contributing Writer           

the hungry, feeding

 

Small tomatoes in Korea

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On Friday afternoon I spent several hours preparing ingredients for a huge pot of stew. I sliced up some onions, then washed and cut up carrots, celery, potatoes, and tomatoes. Along with all the veggies I threw 4 pounds of meat into the pot with tomato sauce, salt, pepper, paprika, and boiling hot water. While the stew cooked, I gave it the taste test now and then, making sure the flavors were blending just right. Now that I’m in my 60s, I feel like my taste buds are finally honed to perfection, or near perfection. It’s taken long enough! 

So why the huge pot of stew? A week ago Sunday, I learned through our church bulletin that there’s been an ongoing effort to feed the hungry in our community. Volunteers include members of various churches, as well as students from different schools. Now that we were aware of the program, my husband and I felt we needed to join others in offering meals to those in need.

lamb stew with leeks, lentils, yellow (heirloo...

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So on Saturday evening we, and about 6 or 7 other volunteers, served hearty bowls of stew and chili to people who wandered into the community hall to sit, eat, and visit. Many were regulars. It was obvious in how friendly they were with a couple of the volunteers.  There was an easy camaraderie among everyone. Diners lined up eagerly, looking forward to a hot meal, with sides like garlic bread, roasted asparagus, a Mediterranean salad of sliced cucumbers, feta cheese, sliced onions and kalamata olives, cottage cheese with a wonderful bowl of mixed fruit, and another of canned peaches. Beverages included plastic gallons of white and chocolate milk, along with containers of juice. And for dessert, ice cream and cake satisfied everyone’s  sweet tooth.

I helped ladle the stew I’d made into bowls, while a couple of other volunteers, 2 middle-schoolers and their mom, served up stew and chili brought by the woman who organized the event, and the asparagus brought by another volunteer. The diners helped themselves to the side dishes. It was humbling to be able to serve one meal to others, knowing that I’m able to dine 3 times a day. And when they expressed their heartfelt gratitude, I felt it was the least I could do for them. Such a small gesture, but to those with so little, it meant all the world.  

With enough volunteers on hand, 3 or 4 of the regulars sat and chatted with the diners. Being our first time, those of us serving up the food observed, and learned “the ropes.” As time passes, I’m sure we’ll become familiar enough to venture out from behind the serving table. My husband spent the time washing pots, pans, dishes, cups, and everythingelse put in front of him, including the huge, crock pots emptied of their contents. Because of his contribution, the volunteers were able to pack up and leave once the evening was over.

It was apparent that a free meal not only afforded these unfortunate souls a warm, full belly; it also gave them an hour or so of companionship in a secure, comfortable environment. Many congregated into small groups, chatting among themselves in hushed, or spirited tones. There were elderly men and women, as well as those in their 20s, and a few somewhere in-between. A couple of individuals were obviously in their “own world,” but harmed no one, preferring to dine alone, quietly.

For a very brief time, it was good to give of ourselves to those who make their way in society, unknown and perhaps unwelcome in many cases. Feeding them, giving them respite from the elements seems the least those of us who “have,” can do for those who “have not.” 

have my cutting board…primed and ready to go…hugmamma.

is she talkin’ about me?

My friend Mary came by with another piece of senior humor. Sorry young ‘uns, sometimes we elderly citizens have to step “outside the box” for a belly laugh, or two.

MY LIVING WILL: 

Last night, my family stopped by and were sitting in the living room… I said to them, ‘I never want to live in a vegetative state, dependent on some machine and fluids from a bottle. If that ever happens, just pull the plug.’

They got up, unplugged the Computer, and threw out my wine.

They are SO on my shit list …

 

…well, maybe not a belly laugh…but at least a toothless grin…hugmamma.

365 photo challenge: stem

cheers!!!……………………………………….a tray full of stems………………………………

“okole maluna”…………………………..bottoms up!!!…………………….hugmamma.

365 photo challenge: valuable

Have signed on to My Life in Photos – 365 Challenge. The blog’s owner has invited readers to post a picture a day in correlation to a given word. Today’s word is valuable. I might have cheated, combining my previous post with this one, for my daughter is priceless. Instead, I’ll shine the spotlight upon another who has immeasurable influence upon those fortunate enough to call her mom…my beloved mother-in-law. In her mid-eighties, she celebrated her birthday last week.

A loving woman, my husband‘s mom, whom I also call mom, has taught her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and her daughters-in-law and sons-in-law, about generosity, compassion, faith, humility, acceptance, and joy. She has a wonderful sense of humor, laughter coming easily. And she withholds judgment, preferring to think kind thoughts about others.  My husband, the eldest of 12, was blest with the best parenting money could not buy. My husband and I have learned by osmosis, he from his mom, and me from both my husband and my mother-inlaw.

……………………………….valuable……………………………………………….hugmamma. 

best gift…ever!

Twenty-five years ago today, my husband and I were blest with the perfect gift, our daughter. Without child for 16 years, we’ve counted our blessings every day since her miracle birth. Because of her we know the joy of celebrating holidays, especially Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. Because of her we know what it means to love without conditions, and to sacrifice without expectations. Because of her we’ve come to accept who we are, with our own idiosyncrasies and human failings. And because of her, my husband and I have found a deeper love for one another.

Holy Family: Mary, Joseph and child Jesus

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Life isn’t perfect, it wasn’t meant to be. But being gifted with a child surely put us on a direct path to God, not always an easy one. On-the-job training, trial and error, challenges, compromises, and blending individual personalities into one smoothe-running household, was probably not even easy for Jesus, Mary and Joseph, the Holy Family. But look where they are. Sitting at the right-hand of God.

But I don’t need to look that far ahead to know that I wouldn’t trade being a mom for any other gift in the universe. My precious daughter has brought me to where I belong…to my own, true self. Twenty-five years ago, today, I began my journey “home”…

and i owe it all to my daughter…hugmamma.

a role model?…more than

Most of you know of my dear friend Sylvia. From time to time she visits me on the internet, sharing some juicy tidbit sent by her UK network of friends and family. I first wrote of her in my post, “role models, aging gracefully,” dated 8-24-10.

My friend who’s 70ish is admirable not only because she’s such a fashion-plate, which she is, but also because she is laden with health issues that would bring a younger, stronger woman, like me, to my knees. I’m a wuss by comparison. Like an older sister, sometimes a mom, my girlfriend was a smoker for many years, but was finally able to kick the habit. Whether as a result of smoking or having had it beforehand, she continues to suffer with emphysema which is compounded by asthma. Weighing under 100 pounds she’s a lightweight, but she can be as “tough as nails” when debating her opinion. I’ve never tested her, and am not about to try. I’d rather have her in my corner. When a coughing fit overtakes her, she can easily bruise some ribs. As a last resort her doctor prescribes prednisone which eliminates the cough, but leaves my friend with side effects that linger. She has bouts of diverticulitis which has her curled up in great pain. Throughout our 13 years of friendship, she’s been poked, probed, xrayed, cat-scanned, MRI’d more than anyonelse I know. With the help of a physician who’s cared for her, REALLY CARED, my amazing friend always seems “as fit as a fiddle.” I forget her medical history until another episode occurs, and it always does.

I think I dress rather smartly, but when I’m out with my friend and her husband I know she’s outdone me. Not that I mind, for I am simply in awe of  her sense of style, wearing skirts and dresses that I never would, simply because they wouldn’t look as well on me. They’re not my “cup of tea,” but they suit my girlfriend to a tee. And the jewelry, she can wear several gold bangles, rings on several fingers, including on her toes, and of course, earrings. Stunning is the only word to describe her. Whether she’s lounging at home or stepping out, in my estimation, she’s always “dressed to the nines.”

You can continue to read more wonderful things about Sylvia, for there’s definitely more good things to be said about her, by going to the original post mentioned above. I just wanted to give you an inkling of who she is, before you read further. And you’ll want to read further, I guarantee you. Enjoy this little “gem” from Sylvia…

NO CHEATING!!!

I was really surprised to find out who my role was.

DON’T scroll down until you do the SIMPLE math below. It’s crazy how accurate this is!

NO PEEKING!

1) Pick your favorite number between 1-9
2) Multiply by 3, then
3) Add 3
4) Then again multiply by 3 (Go get the calculator…). You’ll get a 2 or 3 digit number
5) Add the digits together

Now scroll down…

With the last number, see who YOUR ROLE MODEL is from the following list:

According to Keirsey, Oprah Winfrey may be a T...

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1)  Bill Clinton
2)  Oprah Winfrey
3)  Jessica Simpson
4)  Sarah Palin
5)  Laura Bush
6)  Hilary Clinton
7)  Ronald Reagan
8)  Ron De Roma
9)  my friend Sylvia
10) Barbara Walters

 

I know. I know. I just have that effect on people. One day, you too can be like me.

P.S. Stop picking different numbers! I AM YOUR ROLE MODEL! Deal with it!!!

now she’s your role model too…gotta love sylvia…i do…hugmamma.

well worth a visit…

 

The logo of the blogging software WordPress.

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Have found a few more blogs of interest, again for different reasons. Wish I could visit the millions of blogs that exist on WordPress, but I think that’s very unlikely. But every so often I peruse the pages, and pause on a blog whose post’s title and first several lines make me curious enough to “click,” and read more. I never gave much thought to how very important those 2 items are to getting read. But with so, so many to choose from, how does one decide? I have no idea, truthfully. My method is just to handpick them one at a time. And these are the ones I’ve recently enjoyed.

New York, New York. Newsroom of the New York T...

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Carloscollazo06 is an avid baseball fan. I mean avid.  He’s a high-schooler who hopes to become a sportswriter. Judging from his blog, I’m sure he’ll succeed. I understood one post, the one about his passion for writing, in spite of his being so young. His observation, not mine. While he hopes to venture beyond scripting posts about baseball, I’m not so sure he’ll be successful there. Scrolling down, I saw entries containing words like the Braves, Joe Madden, the Phillies’ second baseman Luis Castillo, and a reference to fantasy baseball on ESPNDid I get that all right? I also knew this blog and mine were generations apart because there were words I’d never known before, like yerd (yearbook nerds) and  werd (“writing nerd, of course”.) Of course! Who wouldn’t know what a yerd and a werd are? Duh!?!? Me!!! Nonetheless, this young blogger is worth checking out. He did spend time in NYC on a yearbook conference sponsored by Columbia University’s Scholastic Press Association. We might be reading his sport’s column in the New York Times one day, so you might want to get started now.

 My Life in Photos – 365 Challenge, a newbie of 2 months is off and running, challenging her readers to post a photo a day in correlation to a given word. Today’s word, for example, is “situated.” Not an easy challenge , as you can see. My brain cells will definitely grow by leaps and bounds, which is more than welcome in my case. How about yours? Someone who has journaled for 25 years, you might want to check out this blogger’s photo-take on life.

Quickly becoming a friend, another blogging buddy, but one with whom I also regularly exchange emails is Figments of a Dutchess. Living a world away from mine in Holland, she shares my sense of fun, love of pets, appreciation of the great outdoors, and a passion for blogging. What we’ve not got in common is the wind blowing like a jet stream through her beautifully coiffed, short, blonde hair, while she sits confidently astride a Harley. Yikes! If I were to do that, my thinning, henna-rinsed hair might come undone…totally. Like gone, goodbye, fare thee well. I don’t think I’d look good in bald.

The Duchess is a great writer of fiction, having whet my appetite with “the second room on the right.” Hopefully, she’ll be launching the full episodic novel very soon. Like my buddy Scriptor Obscura who has been sharing technical tips with me, like “adopting” my internet doggie, Cheddar, Figments of a Dutchess has assisted in attaching the image “of pointed-toes, an umbrella, and raindrops” in the right sidebar of my blog. The amazing thing is that clicking on the image magically brings up the YouTube video of Gene Kelly in his signature dance role, “Singing in the Rain.” Try it!!!

finding friends on the internet…like finding gold…hugmamma.

blogging, internet “magic”

SVG of Pennsylvania state seal

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First blogging buddy Scriptor Obscura had asked me some time ago to author a post on her blog. Very flattered, I agreed, but it took me awhile to get my footing on WordPress. A month or so later, I’m now comfortable in my own blogging “skin” to say a few words on Scriptor Obscura’s blog. 

Please click on the following to read my original post, ” ‘small’  story, big impact”  for Scriptor Obscura’s blog. It’ll give you further insight into what I’m all about.

Another blogging buddy, My English Thoughts, has also posted the second half of the interview she did with me on her blog. My answers to the questions will give you more biographical info, including my take on life as a native Hawaiian. Clicking on the following will take you there.

http://myenglishthought.wordpress.com/2011/03/18/my-interview-1-welcome-to-hugmamma-part-2/“.

Downtown Seattle, Washington and the Bainbridg...

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We’d all love for you to experience the magic of the internet. Imagine 3 people living in France, Pennsylvania, and Washington State, coming together via a shared interest in  blogging. That we were able to reach out, complete strangers, and become better acquainted with one another, is no small feat. So when you visit both blogs, keep in mind that there was a good amount of wizardry that occurred behind the scenes to make it all happen.

for partaking of our combined efforts…we thank you…and send a trio of huge hugs…hugmamma.

another “small” story, japan

I love retelling “small” stories of people going about the task of daily living, like you and me. Found another one about a Japanese family trying to do what they would do under normal circumstances, in today’s Wall Street Journal. Seems to me that’s human resilience at its best. But, truthfully, what else can survivors do…but live. To stop is to die. And why would they choose to do that, when they’ve been spared. Instead they’ve taken the gift of life and moved on, vowing to remember those who have fallen.

Greater Tokyo Area is the world's most populou...

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A Tokyo Reunion
by Michael Judge

American Airlines flight 153 from Chicago to Tokyo was nearly full and pleasantly mundane–young mothers bounced infants in the aisles, businessmen worked in the glow of their laptops, elderly couples stretched their legs near the restrooms. In the wake of the Great Tohoku earthquake and tsunami, with the number of dead or missing surpassing more than 20,000, the ordinariness of the 13-hour flight was a comfort.

Given the fear of aftershocks and the ongoing crisis at the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear plant some 150 miles northeast of Tokyo, my wife Masae and I had joked that we’d be the only ones on the Saturday flight. Shortly before take-off, the Associated Press ran a banner on their mobile site saying that traces of “radioactive iodine” had been detected in Tokyo’s drinking water. Spinach and milk were also “tainted.” Foreigners were already leaving in droves–a mass exodus from the world’s densest metropolis was feared.

Indeed, when we told friends and acquaintances we were planning to return to Tokyo, my wife’s hometown and the city where we met 17 years ago this spring, some treated us like characters from Albert Camus‘s “The Plague.” Didn’t we understand the risks involved? Why subject ourselves to possible contamination if it could be avoided? Many governments were sending planes to evacuate overseas nationals. Washington warned against all “nonessential” travel to Tokyo.

Nonessential–a strange word. Was it nonessential to attend a family wedding we’d been looking forward to for months? When the wedding was eventually cancelled, was it nonessential to be near loved ones at a time when so many had lost theirs? My wife and I had chosen to live in America–we hadn’t chosen to abandon our family in Japan.

Nippon Professional Baseball

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Friends in and around Tokyo assured us that life here was continuing as close to normal as possible. To save electricity, trains ran less frequently and some businesses closed earlier. There were long but orderly lines at gas stations. After much debate, opening day of Nippon Professional Baseball, the equivalent of Major League Baseball, was delayed–by four days.

Still, on the train into the city on Sunday, we were relieved to see kids playing baseball and soccer in the parks. Laundry hung from clotheslines outside apartment buildings. Restaurants and cafes were busy outside the Nippori train station. Tokyo was full of life and open for business–even as cities as far away as Los Angeles sold out of potassium-iodine pills over fears of trans-Pacific traces of radiation.

Puburiba, the public bath run by my wife’s parents, was bustling late Sunday afternoon: Elderly men and women and families of all sizes and ages sought out the communal comfort only a sento can provide. But before we could settle in, we jumped into my father-in-law’s car and drove across town to dine with our nephew Tomo and his fiancee Yurie. They’d decided to postpone their March 26 wedding plans until September, but they remained in high spirits. Over ice-cold beer and the best Korean barbeque I’ve ever had, Tomo, Yurie and a handful of relatives and friends gave thanks for our being together, no matter the occasion.

Ryounkaku before and after Great Kanto earthquake

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On Wednesday we plan to visit the grave of my wife’s maternal grandmother, Makino, in the town of Noto on the Japanese Sea. She died last year at the age of 100. She was 13 when the Great Kanto Earthquake of 1923 struck, leveling Tokyo and surrounding cities and killing between 100,000 and 140,000 people. My wife’s paternal grandmother, Kaneyo, and her two youngest children died after fleeing the firebombing of Tokyo. The bombing commenced on Nov. 17, 1944, and didn’t stop until Aug. 15, 1945, the day of Japan’s surrender. More than 100,000 Japanese men, women and children, nearly all civilians, died in those nine months.

But the three didn’t die in Tokyo: They died in the mountains of Yamagata Prefecture, 220 miles north of the capital. Weakened by the journey, illness and starvation, they couldn’t digest the rice they were finally given in Yamagata, and they died of “burst stomachs,” according to my father-in-law, Yasumasa. Miraculously, he was the only survivor.

Nakamise-dōri

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Yesterday, while we were shopping at a crowded Ikebukuro department store, news came that gray smoke was rising from two of the damaged reactors at Fukushima Daiichi, forcing workers to pull back momentarily. Shopping continued apace. News that an 8-year-old woman from Miyagi Prefecture and her 16-year-old grandson had survived for nine days in the wreckage of their home–which had been moved one kilometer by the force of the tsunami–filled the television, and was on everyone’s lips.

Mr. Judge writes about culture and the arts for the Journal.

“small” stories…big impact…hugmamma.

sleep, “ever catch up?”

12-hour digital clock radio

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I envy those who regularly fall into bed at 10 p.m. or earlier. I’ve not done that in many, many years. I’ve always been the proverbial “night owl.” Bedtime for me is midnight, 1 or even 2 a.m. And every night before I close my eyes, I murmur to myself “Gotta get to bed earlier, 10:00, tomorrow night, 10:00.” It’s become more like a prayer, than a resolution.

Downtown Honolulu, HI, view from Punch Bowl.

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I can recall when we were first married, and were renting a nice 2 bedroom apartment in Honolulu. We could afford a larger unit because my husband worked odd jobs around the complex, in exchange for the discounted rent of $125 a month. Can you believe that? An unheard of amount in a major metropolitan city these days, but especially in Honolulu.

University of Hawaii

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My husband had just graduated from a private Catholic college; I was finishing up my last year at the University of HawaiiBetween trying to be the good, little wife, and the good, little student, I was “burning the midnight oil.” I was also interning as a 4th grade teacher as a requirement for the 5th-year teaching certificate towards which I was studying. Oftentimes, I’d take a break from all-night cramming, and do a little household cleaning. I’d even run the vacuum. I was 20 when I married, so what did I know about the right time to do chores? I did them when I could. Funny, the neighbors never complained. But my husband did. He had to get up early for work.

Winfrey on the first national broadcast of The...

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While my penchant for cleaning late at night has dissipated, my desire to hang onto the last moments of a waning day have not. No matter where I’ve lived or what course my life has taken, there never seem to be enough hours in the day to do all that I want. That’s not to say I make the most of every minute. No. I dawdle…a lot. I stop to read parts of the newspaper. I crouch down beside Mocha to tell her I love her and nuzzle my face into hers. I catch parts of Ellenor Oprah.” I munch…munch…munch. I pick up Sitka. Oh, and of course, I blog. Those of you who subscribe, or are regular readers, know that I blog. Can’t help myself. Love to write.

Chatting with my husband when he arrives home from work and interminttently throughout the evening,  prepping dinner, dinner itself, cleaning up afterwards, more blogging, a little reading before switching off the light, and before long the clock reads midnight, or later.  Where does the time go? And it doesn’t help that Dr. Oz, and a myriad of others, continually advises that 7 0r 8 hours of sleep a night is mandtory for good health. I resolve to do better…in my next life. Promise. Meanwhile…

A Westclox Big Ben Clock

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Are you an early bird, or a night owl like me, or both? God bless you if you’re both. I’d be napping all day.

know where i can borrow some hours?…hugmamma.