Gauguin in the ER

Emily called yesterday from Queens. She had gone to the ER with chest pains at 1am, and was admitted a few hours later. I went down to check on her, and she didn't look good. She had lost her cell phone, her boyfriend's phone was busted (of course), and she couldn't reach anyone from the community.

I only have a few numbers, but managed to reach Theo and gave him a brief rundown. Not that I knew much: her blood pressure had fallen, her chest and lower back hurt, and she was scared. The doctors were going to run some tests. "OK." said Theo. "I know what this disease is."

I don't know what he meant by that. Did he mean that he understood my broken Chuukese? Or that he could diagnose her with such little information? His father - and my uncle - was one of the island's top navigators, and his father's father was famous for his knowledge of traditional medicine. Knowledge in Chuuk is guarded closely, so most of us outside any given lineage never know what has been lost and what has been secretly preserved. Theo is the de facto steward of the Re Fananu in Honolulu; I assume he learned a lot from his father.

So maybe he can tell things the western doctors can't.

This morning the traditional doctor called me in to translate. Emily has an infected gall bladder, and they want to remove it. The best I could manage worked out to "there is this thing, small thing, right about here near your stomach, and it is sick, and they want to open you and take it out and throw it away. They will enter you through your belly button with this other thing, this tube thing, unless that doesn't work, then they will cut you open."

That didn't calm her down much. It was the best I could do with my low-level fluency.

I went back in the afternoon, and some of the Fananu women were there, all piled on the bed around Emily. One was massaging her forhead, and the other massaging her hips and thighs. And this is part of Chuukese medicine that I really liked - it is heavily touch and massage based. They can do incredible things with massage - from birthing babies to setting broken bones to clearing infections.

It is not Western, or even Asian, style massage. It can be brutal, and it can hurt. A lot. As in, have your friend hold you down hurt. They were gentle with Emily; they were doing it more to calm her down and ease the pain. And it looked for all the world like a Gauguin painting, only set in a hospital room. There was a beauty there, in a culture learning to navigate in a foreign world, in knowledge surviving modernity, and in the basic humanity of it of family watching out for family.

Meteors and Rain

Now it rains. We're in a frakkin' drought, my garden needs the rain, the islands need the rain, we all need rain ... I just wish it wasn't tonight. An hour ago we had light cloud cover, and could see the stars and moon clearly.

In ninety minutes I'm supposed to meet a group at Hula's to take them to Makapu`u lighthouse for a night hike to watch the Perseids. We had about fifteen guys ready to go, plus a handful of 'maybes.' I was looking forward to it. I took a nap afterwork and everything. And woke up to the gentle sound of falling rain.

I'll play it by ear, I guess.

_____________________

10 pm - The rain seems to be drifting west. We're heading east. I just talked to Tom, and he's still game, so there are at least two of us. That's all I need.

_____________________

Three Brazilians walk into a bar. I walk out.

If only it were that easy. These guys have some kind of preternatural gift for skewing the best laid plans.

11pm, and Jake and Tom are en route to Makapu`u, and Kristine will meet us out there. Everyone else has decided to stay home. They all had to process first, though: Should I go? It's up to you. Do you think it will rain? I don't know. Chance 'em. Will we even see anything? I don't know. It's an adventure. You just go, and see what happens. Not everyone seems to understand that adventures, by definition, don't have guaranteed outcomes. Sometimes you get wet.

I decide to swing by Hulas to see if there are any surprise visitors. Paulo while I'm on the road, and he and Tanea are coming and can I wait for them it will only be ten minutes? Sure. I'm surprised - I really didn't think he'd make it.

I walk into Hula's. I see Paulo's boyfriend sitting at the corner of the bar with an old man pressing into his space and buying him drinks. And I can see the future. I can name this drama in three notes. I head out, and wait in the lobby.

Twenty minutes. No Paulo. No Tanea. I'm late, for the hike I organized. Frakkin amazing. I hit the road.

_____________________

We lucked out. There was no rain at all on the east side. There were a lot of clouds, and I misjudged where the moon would set, but we still managed to see about half a dozen shotting stars each in the breaks in the clouds. And it was fun just being out there at night, meteors or no. And after bad mouthing them a bit, I was pleasantly surprised when Paulo and Tanea really did show up around 1am.

And in the end six was just about the right number for the night.

Ghosts of Xmas Past (and Future?)

The Brazilian (circa 2001) has been in town for a week with his hot sexy new boyfriend, and I forgot all about them. Literally. We met for a drink last week, and though he still looks hot I just didn't have the patience for the drama and the flakiness. I had a drink, tried to be social to the pretty attachment, and left.

And then, quite literally, forgot that he was in town until Friday afternoon.

It's either early senility or a sure sign that I am over this.

Saturday I got a call from the Drill Instructor (circa 2002). Doh. Forgot that he was in town too, and has been for ten days.

Talk about moving on. I've gone from mooning over past affairs to forgetting their very existence. For me, this is progress.

I can blame paddling, in part. Now that distance season is in full swing my mind and body have switched gears. When I'm on the water all that exists is the va`a and the six of us in the crew. My life on land is sometimes just a prep for my life on the water.

I'm not totally dissing my friends. Dan is in town with his mother, and I spent Sunday afternoon with them before putting them on the Superferry. They come back to O`ahu Thursday, and I'm looking forward to spending as much time as I can with them. I really like his mom, and Dan is cool as hell, so this'll be a good thing. Too bad he lives in New York.

Labor Day weekend I'll head to Puna to visit Dave, then I'll be dragging him across the island to Kona for the Queen Lili`uolalani Race. I've rented a 3 BR condo with a bunch of the wahine, and the weekend should be a complete blast.

And I'm still doing a half-assed job of staying in touch with friends on island, and though I could do better at least their still in my thoughts.

But I just don't have enough brain cells left, or enough time in the day, to worry too much about the flakes.

The Obamas at Ke`ehi

Yeay! I've been hoping Obama would make a public speech here, so I was happy to get this in my email. I've already spammed my address list with the invite (less the three token Republicans). I'm all little-kid style excited to see him. On one hand, he's just a candidate I like. I agree with him on most issues, and have significant concerns about him on a few others.

But on the other hand the history of this moment awes me. I look back on all the generations who have been jailed or killed to bring our country just to this point, where we have a black man on track to win the presidency, and it's happening now ... I might lose it.

***

Post Script

So that was a bit anti-climatic. I was expecting something a bit more dynamic. Instead it was a perfectly nice little rally. Obama certainly seems presidential enough, but it was such a curiously sedate afternoon.

Jeff picked me up at 1pm, and by 1:30 we were in a line that stretched half way across Ke`ehi Park. For those who don't know, it's a big park, and it was a long line. Talked to Cliff on the phone, and they had been in line over an hour already.

You have to be HOT to work SWAT.

It took us just over an hour to arrive at security, crisped by the sun to a nice red. Security were the same charming thugs that man the front doors to all the clubs here, only today they wore orange instead of black. We sipped our waters for them to show that the bottles weren't full of something sinister and unsippable, turned our phones and cameras on and off for them, were patted down, and then forced to give up our contraband. Contraband like the whistle on my keychain. Thug monkey one pointed it out to thug monkey two: that's a whistle. Thug monkey two passes the info on to thug monkey three: he's got a whistle. Thug monkey three tells me: that's a whistle. Yes, I say, feeling as if I'm missing something important. It's a whistle.

I can order a sandwich in seven languages, but I still can't understand basic thug. After a brief game of twenty-questions I figure out that the whistle is banned, that I am not able to simply leave it at the gates, but that I am able to leave it in the grass outside the gates - presumably far enough from the stage that it can't cause any damage.

Meanwhile, a good proportion of the crowd is carrying umbrellas. I think about telling the thug monkeys about Georgi Markov, but Jeff was already well past security and patiently waiting.

Cliff and Tim were inside, but by 3 pm grew tired of waiting and went back to work.

Fifteen minutes later our local politicians took the stage. Senator Akaka kicked it off with a big Aloooooha! That was the high point of his speech. He talked a bit about how Obama was a keiki o ka `aina and so we know he has good values. Like, if a school needed painting we'd paint it, and if an old person was hungry we'd feed them. And if a man is homeless, I thought, we'd treat him like a criminal and run them out of town. And if the school needed books we'd build the students a pro football field.

Akaka explained that malihini, those of us who weren't born here, might not always understand these values. It was actually a bit of an offensive speech, so it's probably a good thing he mumbled through it and that no one actually paid attention.

Then he said that it was Hawaiian style to keep things pono, and so it was time to pray. Everyone bowed their heads but me. Fucking sheep. Senator Akaka rambled on and tried very hard to keep it non-denominational, though he almost tripped up at the end with and we ask you this in the name of ... uh ... hmmm ... the heavenly creator. Amen.

Amen, and Rep. Abercrombie took the stage and started to testify. I've never seen him act like this before; maybe they showed Sister Act on the flight over. Maybe he changes personality around black people. Some people do. The problem is, he's a short little hairy thing and at first I though it was a joke and I started to laugh but, oops. Nope. Not a joke.

But it really does look like a stand up comedy routine, right?

Mufi spoke about JFK, and so I tuned him out. Later Obama would call Mufi one of our country's greatest mayors. That was interesting.

So. Barrack Obama in the flesh. Seemed like a nice guy. He's much more handsome than I realized, and Michelle was beautiful. Funny, I didn't expect that. I find strong women beautiful anyways, so I don't know why I was surprised. But I was.

The Homecoming King and Queen

We got a normal speech from him. She waved, he talked about his vacation. Thanked us all for our hard work, said that he was going to relax on the beach with his daughters and eat plate lunch and body board at an undisclosed location and visit with his grandmother. He got a little political, but it was standard stuff: we need to care for our veterans, we need to educate our children, we need a rational energy policy, etc. If any theme stood out, it was that our nation finally needs an "energy policy." It seemed to play well with the crowd, so I expect we'll see more of this at the convention.

We don't listen to speeches anyway. We just take photos of them.

He seemed like a nice guy. He was relaxed and casual, and ... sure ... he seemed presidential. Good enough for me, and I don't say that often about politicians (see above).

Someone tell FOX news that this is a secret terrorist radical shaka he's giving

I did learn that I've been pronouncing his name wrong all along. I've been saying "barrack" like the building, as in I snuck in the barracks last night to rendez-vous with a soldier. I didn't know it was" buh-Rock." These things happen when you read more than you watch tv.

Jeff says his butt is too big, but I say it's just about right

The Man in the Garden

A new homeless man just took up residence in the Native Garden outside our office window. He has his sheets spread out on one wall, his belongings and clothes are further down on the picnic table, and now he's stretched out and sunning himself outside the Assistant Chair's office.

This one won't last long. I never say anything when I see the guys setting up camp at night, long after the types who like to call security have gone home. This guy is a bit too obvious, and it won't be long before someone who is better fed and better sheltered takes offense at his existence and has him chased away.

Rites XXX

I'm there.

The In Crowd

I finally signed up for Facebook, and was surprised at how many people I know have pages there.

I'm also a bit surprised how dated it feels. I've gotten so used to using open-source programs like Mozilla that Facebook is just frustrating me. Open-source is so robust and dynamic that it makes proprietary sites seem a bit lumbering and stodgy.

I wonder if I could dig up some dot.com refugees and see if they're game for developing an open-source social-networking site. Could be our ticket to the big time.