i have my memories…

Posted on October 24, 2012 by hugmamma

It’d been several years since I was home to visit family in Hawaii. With my mother in-law’s passing, my husband, daughter and I made the trip to Honolulu with a mixture of sadness and joy.

We were fortunate to rent a condo near the hub of tourist activities, Waikiki Beach, without being in the midst of all the traffic…pedestrian and automotive.

Waikiki Beach, Honolulu, Hawaii, USA. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

To say I felt rejuvenated as the days unfolded, is an understatement. The sheer pleasure of walking out the front door, hand-in-hand with my hubby, and having the warm, tropical breezes softly brush both cheeks was simply…heaven on earth.

Our walks rarely varied. We’d stop to breakfast at a small cafe in a nearby hotel, before leisurely strolling along the beach.

Thinking healthy, we’d order scrambled egg whites, oatmeal, and island must-haves…a few pieces of Portuguese sausage and a couple of macadamia nut pancakes. To the surprise of the young waitress, hubby and I would share our bountiful meal. Explaining our desire to live long, happy lives…she’d smile, nodding her approval.

Sitting among planters brimming with colorful varieties of orchids, and gentle trees whose limbs directed our eyes toward the sand and sea…we felt at peace with our surroundings…and life in general.

This was the Hawaii of my childhood, only better. Carefree…bellies full…dreams realized.

Wandering the length of the beach, we were amazed at the expanded shore line. It literally took my breath away.

The last time I saw this section of Waikiki Beach, much of the ocean was walled off by a long, winding stonewall. What water was free of obstruction was literally lapping at my feet.

View of Waikiki Beach area hotels. Halekulani is in the center, to the left of the large curved building (Hotel Sheraton). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I liked what I was seeing this go round.

Sand as far as my eyes could see. The beach front of my childhood. Nothing between me and the Pacific, blue waters…but glistening, white sand.

One day when my daughter and I sought to spend several hours basking in the sun, we made our way down to the beach. I opted for laying our towels in the immediate vicinity of a manmade lagoon which sat between a hotel and the ocean.

Dropping myself onto the towel, my bottom literally went…kerplunk! The sand felt as hard as a wood floor. Wasn’t it suppose to be cushiony?

My daughter laughed, her eyes twinkling in the sunlight.

She reminded me that my brother-in-law, her uncle, had told us the beach front had been a creation of man’s ingenuity.

All of the sand we beheld had been brought there, tons and tons of it. The shoreline had literally been swallowed up by the ocean. As a result, the city and affected businesses had to pay for its reconstruction. Otherwise, where would the tourists go? Elsewhere, obviously.

I remember an older sister telling me long ago, that the beaches were disappearing inch by inch.

A teen, too young to care, I didn’t put much stock in what she said. But after thinking about this situation recently, I can remember how surprised I was when I visited Kihei on the island of Maui over 20 years ago. My favorite beach bore no resemblance to the one I loved, growing up.

Kalama Beach Park was a regular weekend destination for my family. As soon as my mom pulled into the parking lot and stopped the car, my brother, sister and I flung open the doors and raced one another to the beach.

Digging our toes into the hot sand, we’d plop our bodies down…reveling in the openness and the breathtaking beauty that surrounded us.

Never could I have imagined that sweet memories of childhood days frolicking on the wide open beaches of my birthplace…would be all that remained.

When I hear and see, as I did last night when watching the PBS FRONTLINE documentary, of the effects of global warming, I’m saddened to know what has happened in Hawaii has occurred elsewhere, and is continuing to take place…now…in areas of our country such as North Carolina.

I believe we have tampered with Mother Nature.

Anyone who contemplates all the changes that have occurred within recent decades to the weather and to the earth itself, cannot explain away our impact upon these events.

We are not invisible.

We have used all available natural resources to indulge ourselves. Meanwhile, we have put very little effort into ensuring that these resources will be available long term…for our children, grand-children, great-grand-children…and their children, grand-children, great-grand-children.

I have my memories. You probably have yours. What kind of memories will our loved ones have?

Unless we invest in our environment, our beaches…may altogether…disappear. …and so it begins………hugmamma.

staying power…us vs. them

Posted on June 25, 2011 by hugmamma

Despite the turmoil bedbugs have caused in my family’s life recently, I’ve an underlying admiration for their “sticktoittiveness.” I’m certain you’ve heard the word before, although it’s probably not in Webster’s Dictionary. After all, bedbugs are just trying to coexist, especially since they need our blood to survive. Don’t you think we can spare a little, now and then. If it weren’t for the itchiness and accompanying rash…???

During his initial visit to my daughter’s apartment, the rep from All America Pest Control, demonstrating his vast knowledge of bedbugs, explained that there’d been an infestation in the U.S. back in the 80s. However until recently, the problem had been on the wane. With the influx of people from Third World Countires, the rep indicated that bedbugs were again on the rise. Why so?

Image representing Bill Gates as depicted in C...

Image via CrunchBase

According to the rep’s explanation, bedbugs are rampant in Third World Countries because the people have not the means to erradicate them. Since the pests aren’t a health threat, as yet, the people learn to live with bedbugs. In other words, they’re viewed as a nuisance, not a hazard. Makes total sense. Who has unlimited funds to drive the little buggers from existence? Maybe Bill Gates, Warren Buffet, Queen Elizabeth. Not me and mine, that’s for sure. Therefore as a result of the inability to contain the bedbugs, they are being inadvertently transported by Third World Country travelers, via their belongings, as many seek to improve their lots elsewhere in the world.

My personal take on the rep’s stance is that we should learn to live with bedbugs to some degree. It’s a fact that world travel isn’t going to disappear, and neither are the nasty pests for that matter. So what other recourse have we? We’ve not the financial resources to exterminate their entire population, nor have we the stamina to Clorox-wipe them out of existence. Believe me, I tried. After cleaning too many articles to count, my daughter and I took to garbage bagging stuff and leaving them to bake in the heat of her locked car for a couple of days. Otherwise, we’d still be sanitizing every crevice of every single thing. That’s more my friend Sylvia’s “cup of tea.” She has staying power to match that of bedbugs, especially when it comes to cleaning.

Image via Wikipedia

Another bug with staying power is the termite. It’s a native of tropical climates, because of the warmth and moisture. I’d forgotten what nuisances termites can be until our family rented a spacious home atop Diamond Head one summer years ago. It was in the Black Point neighborhood where the view of nearby Waikiki Beach is stunning. Sipping coffee while watching early morning surfers ride the waves was luxury personified. While the house retained its charm, it was in need of updating. But with so many windows giving way to beautiful views of the flora and fauna, as well as the ocean, and allowing the tropical breezes to wend their way unobstructed throughout the many rooms, we felt we were in paradise, which we were. Having extended family over to enjoy our hospitality was the reason for our once-in-a-lifetime treat. The “fly in the ointment,” were the termites.

Mastotermes darwiniensis or Darwin Termite, is...

Image via Wikipedia

Termites would settle on the window sills in never-ending numbers. I’d Windex them away, only to find more settling in as replacements later. The kitchen windows seemed to hold a particular attraction for them. Keeping termites from alighting on our food was a battle. Not a major one, but still a struggle nonetheless. It was not an appetizing sight to watch their little bodies writhing about as they attempted to take flight. There was no fear of them attacking us for they were so inconsequentially small. But they were as bothersome to us, as David and his slingshot were to Goliath.

Just as with bedbugs, and most definitely cockroaches, termites will probably outlast the human race on this planet we like to call ours. It’s my feeling we only rent, while the insects own. We’d better start being nice to our landlords.

Image by bug_girl_mi via Flickr

…here bedbug…nice bedbug…hugmamma. 😉

snowfall or sunshine – “which do you think?”

Posted on January 12, 2011 by hugmamma

Wish the snow was still falling here in my blog, and not covering the landscape outdoors. Brrr! This Maui girl finds herself pining for the good old days on the Valley Isle. Sun, warmth, flip-flops and shorts, I could get use to those tropical mainstays very easily. I’d better have a talk with my hubby. This Pacific Northwest weather sucks! Excuse the language, but if you had to sit indoors 24/7, 365 days a year, you’d be harmonizing with me, singing my song. Yes, I exaggerate, but not by much, believe me.

My dog would probably prefer the feel of soft sand beneath her paws, rather than the grit and grime of dirty snow turned to ice. She’d probably love to jump on a surfboard in front of me, and ride the waves at Makaha. I know, I know. I don’t swim, so how can I even contemplate surfing. I did once, when I was in high school and the guy I was dating tried to teach me. I think I tried to stand up facing the horizon, preparing to ride the wave backwards. I didn’t get far, but I did end up dating the guy for a year or so, captain of the football and basketball teams, you know. So I scored, even if I never learned to surf.

Now where was I? Oh, yeah, frolicking in the blue, Pacific Ocean. I can wade, and so can Mocha. We’re also great at lying around, soaking up the UV rays. No more oiling myself with Johnson’s Baby Oil though, as I did when I was an exotic coed attending the University of Hawaii in the late 60s. I remember baking in the Hawaiian sun alongside a couple of my sisters-in-law who were then in high school. While I turned a molten gray, their skin glistened like freshly polished copper. I always wished I’d had some “hauole” blood. “Hapa-hauole’s” (half-whites) always tanned a golden bronze. My skin tone skipped tan, going straight to black.

But at 61 I don’t care what shade my skin color turns, as long as it’s feeling the heat. Give me the heat! And Mocha knows that if hugmamma’s happy, everybody’s happy. So I know she’d like to get me where the sun is shining and the temperature hovers around the 70s. If I’m outdoors, she’s outdoors. Let’s face it, she hasn’t seen a whole lot of the doggie world lately, especially since I’ve been “under the weather” myself.

Until we find ourselves stretched out on Waikiki beach, do you think you could send some sunshine and warm weather, if you’ve even a smidgen to spare? Mocha and I would be much obliged, and forever in your debt.

for your generosity, sending you huge hugs in advance…hugmamma, and mocha too.

more fabulous brunches

Posted on November 30, 2010 by hugmamma

Seems I’m off on a tangent recently, posting about food non-stop. Blame it on the holidays. I’ve many more interests to address, but for now “’tis the season to be jolly”…and plumpy?

My daughter reminded me of a few other fabulous brunches. I’m hoping to entice you to try them some time. They require traveling, whether by plane or car, unless you’re lucky enough to have them in your own “back yard.”

The Halekulani Hotel on Waikiki Beach in Honolulu is my choice for buffet brunch, when I’m home visiting relatives. Offered only on Sundays, reservations are mandatory. Islanders and tourists alike line up for the gastronomical feast, so no amount of waiting for the tropical skies to align, will get you in without calling ahead for seating.

The setting alone will captivate your senses, ocean breezes wafting through the restaurant, gently touching your cheeks. Fragrant orchids and plumerias grace table settings and serving stations. Aromas from the bounteous variety of foods invite you to partake, quickly, before they all disappear, or so you think. At least that’s what I think.

While the usual, but not necessarily the exact, breakfast fare awaits you, like banana pancakes, portuguese sausage, roasted pig, bacon, rice, scalloped potatoes with cheese, sweet bread French toast, there’s also the “locals” favorites. There’s “poke”-raw tuna chunks in a seaweed, sea salt, vinaigrette; there’s “lomi-salmon” -salted salmon chunks mixed with diced tomatoes, sliced green onions, and chopped onions; there’s potato salad and macaroni salad prepared the island way; there’s a sushi spread; and an assortment of salads. Desserts will include another islander favorite, “haupia” cake, which is made with coconut milk. You will most definitely leave this island buffet sporting a full “opu,” the Hawaiian word for “belly.” As with most buffets, there’s no pressure to hurry. I make it a habit to sit back and dine leisurely, while staring out at the blue, Pacific waters. The view alone is worth the price; the amazingly yummy food is a bonus. Trust me, it’s all good!

The buffet brunch at the Four Seasons Hotel in Atlanta, Georgia, had been our family’s Christmas Day tradition for several years. After attending Mass, we’d eagerly make our way to the elegant hotel and their, just as elegant, spread. The grand staircase leading from the spacious front lobby, brought us to the second floor balcony where our eyes rested upon, what seemed like, an endless row of tables covered with platters of delectable foods.

As soon as the waiter took our beverage orders, we made our way around the u-shaped balcony, deciding our plan of attack. Of course I always began with a plateful of shrimp and cocktail sauce. You’ve probably surmised that I’m not very adventurous when it comes to food. You’re right! I pretty much stick with the “tried and true.” I hate to be disappointed. As I’ve told my husband and daughter, “I don’t waste my calories on food I don’t enjoy.” It’d be another story if I was skinny.

While there wasn’t anything particularly extraordinary about the Four Season’s buffet brunch, we enjoyed it enough to make it part of our tradition each Christmas. One specific incident which won my loyalty was when we returned one year, and found that caviar was not offered as it had previously been. Our daughter’s favorite, she was disappointed, but managed just fine without. Knowing how she had looked forward to the delicacy, I asked our waiter about the omission. He apologized, disappeared into the kitchen, returning moments later, with the treasured caviar, and accompaniments. His surprise garnered huge smiles from all three of us, but most especially our daughter. Now that’s what I call excellent customer service!

On our first and only visit to Las Vegas, my husband, daughter and me felt like family sitting down to a meal with relatives at the Paris Hotel’s buffet brunch. I remember that the food was very good, although the ambiance was a little too cozy. While the spacious restaurant was like the village scene from Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast,” tables, and bodies, were a little too close for comfort. But hey! This was Las Vegas, after all. “When in Paris…”

I think I’ve gotten food out of my system, for a short while, anyway. Would love to learn of any buffet brunches you might recommend, wherever they may be. We don’t travel like we did in the “good old days,” but we still manage to get around, now and then. As I like to say, “Getting old, doesn’t mean we’re dead.” Getting there, but not quite yet. What’s that cliche? “Mountains to climb, and something, something, before I sleep.” I can never get those sayings right.

had a green salad, a scoop of chicken salad, and grapes for dinner. all that talk of food made me full…hugmamma. now for some exercise…island style.

in-laws, like siblings

Posted on September 19, 2010 by hugmamma

Unlike my own siblings who were older and not living at home during my childhood years, my husband’s 11 brothers and sisters were very much present during the 3 years we dated, and the early years of our marriage. Because my husband was the eldest and we were a couple, it seemed as though his siblings were mine also. And the respect and admiration they had for him, was extended to me by virtue of our relationship. That was different from being the youngest in my family, where I had to mind the wishes of my brothers and sisters. I reveled in the role of “big sister,” and I couldn’t have asked for a more welcoming, loving, fun brood of in-laws.

My age, Michael was the bronzed, Greek god of myths, who surfed and dated Miss Hawaii’s, one being the niece of Hawaii’s governor at the time. Glad I was never competing for his attention, I relished the position of future sister-in-law instead. But through the years, my brother-in-law has aged into a soft-spoken, humble man of spiritual substance, happily married for many years.
A year younger than me, Kathy was a beauty who turned heads. While the details are fuzzy, I do remember having driven her in my car to a rendezvous with a young man, after she climbed out of her bedroom window, unbeknownst to her parents. I don’t think they ever found out, until after I was safely married to their son.
Twins John and Mary were usually out with friends, so that I was less familiar with them. Both attractive, they seemed ensconced in a world of beautiful, fun-loving, party people. At the time, I felt they were so totally out of my league. Thank goodness middle-age levels the playing field.
Homemaker Julie has always been the surrogate mom. Even at a young age, she seemed to relish cooking, cleaning, supervising, counseling. She always did it from love, never out of obligation or for mercenary reasons. So it didn’t surprise me when she rose to Director of Revenue Services at a renowned, boutique hotel on Waikiki Beach.
Dan is a man with a big heart for his wife and 4 daughters. Nothing is too much for his bevy of lovely women. In his younger years, I saw little of him, since he was a teenager who kept to himself, as most young men that age do.
Cindy has always been a sweetheart, with a smile as big and open as her generous personality. Things may have frazzled her from time to time, but I never noticed. Her husband knows he’s a very lucky man for having won, and kept, her heart these many years.
I don’t remember Louise’s younger years, except that I was told she looked most like my husband when he was young. But in recent years we’ve enjoyed a great camaraderie with she and her husband, one based upon good-natured teasing and laughter.
A handsome, little boy Richard captured my heart with his sweetness and adulation. He seemed to treasure the times my husband and I involved the youngest siblings in crafts we would make as Christmas gifts, or goodies we would bake for the family, or on outings where we would take them along. He was like a little brother who always wanted to be at our side.
Rambunctious Lily was always heard AND seen. Her wide eyes and large smile readily admitted to mischievousness. She had no patience for fools; she still doesn’t. She and her husband have made life fun for their 3 sons and 1 daughter, all beautifully raised to be respectful of their elders. My husband and I always enjoy hilarious times when we visit with Lily and her family, no matter how infrequently it may be.
The youngest, Pat, will always have a special place in my heart because she and I share the last rung on the family “ladder.” My husband is glad that he’s becoming better acquainted with his youngest sibling, 13 years his junior. Again, it’s nice when older age “levels the playing field.” My most vivid memory of Pat as a child of 2, was when she climbed onto my lap upon our first meeting. While I chatted with others in the family, getting to know them better, she kept trying to put her hand inside the front of my shirt. I’m sure I was blushing, as I kept trying to stop her. I think my husband finally came to my rescue, taking his sister into his arms. I thought she was cute then, I still think she is now.

my in-laws have always been generous, and loving…hugmamma.

may be my best year yet

Posted on August 2, 2010 by hugmamma

I awoke to a “new” year, my 61st. My husband reminded me, indicating that he’d forgotten until he saw my sleepy head come into the living room. He’s an early riser, unlike me. On the weekend, he enjoys his favorite pastime, reading his e-book. I enjoy mine any day of the week, any time of the day, writing on my blog.

As “empty-nesters” our lives have settled into a comfortable routine. There’s work; there’s play; and there’s the in-between time. Forty years of wedded bliss and 3 years dating prior to that, can make the passing of years a challenge. How do we keep life together interesting? Fun? Getting into a rut happens to the best of us. We’re probably “middle-of-the-road. “We’re not jumping onto roller-coasters (I know I’d throw up my innards.) But we aren’t lying around in hammocks either (We’d never get up.) We enjoy similar interests, like visiting Barnes and Noble Bookstore or Half-Price Books, shopping at Lowes and Home Depot, going to an occasional movie, and spending time with our daughter. As we’ve become more comfortable with each other, however, our individual likes and dislikes have made their way from the “bottom of the heap” to the top. Funny how that happened, without our realizing it.

My husband abhors dancing. When we first met, he had “2 left feet.” He made no secret of it. But I didn’t think it was a permanent flaw; I thought I could fix it, with a tweak here and there. Not until our 38th anniversary, give or take a year or two, did I realize he really DOES have “2 left feet.”

The story of our first date is one my husband loves retelling. I was 17 or 18, he a year older. Living in Honolulu at the time, we headed to Waikiki Beach for some fun in the sun. I was so awestruck by his movie star good looks that I was speechless most of the time. (Can you believe it?) Furthermore, I was sensitive to the fact that he was the oldest of 12 children. With so many mouthes to feed, I didn’t think he had money to feed mine. Visiting the nearby zoo, he asked if I wanted some lunch, perhaps a hot dog, popcorn, soda? Lying, for I was starved for food, I replied that I wasn’t hungry, that I’d had a big breakfast at the dorm’s cafeteria. In disbelief, he pointed out that it was hours since I’d eaten. His protestations fell on deaf ears. Adamant that I didn’t need a morsel, I did give in to his offer of a soft drink. Not until 8 hours had passed, when he drove me home, did I fly down the dining room steps just before it closed. I ate like a truck driver who’d fasted for a week. I scarfed down everything I could lay my hands on. My husband left me that day thinking I was the quietest girl he’d ever met (not that he knew many since he’d been a Catholic seminarian before we met), with the appetite of a bird. Well, it didn’t take too long for him to learn the truth. He’d married Lucille Ball who ate like Ethel Mertz.

I enjoy shopping; my husband waits patiently, e-book in hand. My husband “saws wood” when he sleeps; I use ear plugs and lay a pillow between us, partially covering my head to muffle the sound. I enjoy tuning in to “Bethenny Gettin’ Married?”, “Say Yes To The Dress'” and “The Bachelor;” my husband can’t stomach reality TV, so he leaves me in peace and heads to the lower level family room to watch the History channel. I find pleasure in talking with people, including total strangers; my husband doesn’t interrupt, but he doesn’t hang around either, preferring to wander off.

Laughing over inconsequential, silly, little things at one point today, my husband and I agreed that he rarely speaks a whole paragraph. His reason, “Why should I say a paragraph when a word will do?” I replied that it might make him more approachable socially. Not skipping a beat, he merely smiled back at me. He is a man comfortable in his own skin, never personally needing the approval of others. I have always admired that quality in him. I, on the other hand, am like most who need to know that we are loved. Into my 6th decade, I am finally seeing my husband’s point of view. I am who I am.

We make our marriage work through give and take, neither of us doing all the taking or all the giving. It’s a balance that requires daily effort. It helps to think “Would I really want to start all over again, bringing a total stranger ‘up to speed’ about me and my likes and dislikes?” And more importantly, “Would someone else love me as much for the person I am, and not the person he’d like me to be?” So growing older with my husband of many years is a gift for which I am very, very grateful.

As I advance through this decade of my life I find myself happily reinvigorated. Writing has enabled me to get my creative “juices” flowing once again. I’ve always favored the left side of my brain. For most of my business career I sat behind a desk, watching a clock. I relished my “free time” when I could do cross-stitch or other handiwork, prepare a gourmet meal, decorate and then re-decorate my house. But transitioning from career to motherhood didn’t allow much time for self-fulfillment. Not that I minded for being a mom has always been my favorite job, hands down. But now that I’ve regained use of my own life, figuring out what to do with it has given me pause. There were the “fall back” options, volunteering, part-time work, full-time work, ramping up my exercise regimen, spend more time cleaning house or tending the garden. None of these possibilities caught my fancy, my creative fancy that is. So I bided my time and continued doing whatever it was I was doing, until now.

Fleshing out ideas, thoughts, opinions and feelings in my blog posts has grown new brain cells for sure. Writing has given me a youthful outlook that is couched in the experiences of a 60 year old. I’m rediscovering my past, reflecting upon my present, and pondering my future. With my mind leading the way, I’m sure my body will strive to keep pace. Writing makes me process my thoughts, then attempt to formulate them into words. It’s like going back to school, without having to go there. I’m motivated to live life large, in the moment. It may be that I’ve found my own “fountain of youth.”

hope you find yours…hugmamma