Happy Days

My son is here. I am thrilled to have one of my tribe with us. You have no idea...

Wordless Wednesday

Two Steps Back

Well, I caved and returned to Facebook.  Lots going on with my children that I was out of the loop on. Why? Because Facebook has replaced other forms of communication. I learned that solidly in my year and a half hiatus from it. People just don't take the time to stay in touch any other way anymore. So much easier to  "see" what people have been up to, and one can be completely covert and voyeuristic in doing so. No need to say or do anything-just peek right into someone's life. Do I sound sarcastic? I hope so. 

Although it's a relief to be more closely connected to a couple of my children who eschew old school communication, I regret the fact that I am back in the muck and mire and general nonsense that's involved. My friends list is trimmed down, and I do so love many of them. But the fact remains- a growing number of people don't care about maintaining contact unless it's through Facebook. Emailing is a thing of the past for many, and forget about phone calls. Texts suit most people just fine. We are becoming watchers, not participants. I find it all a bit creepy, but then I am of another era. I still write cards, and love handwritten communication. I'm no Luddite, either. I've been communicating via computer since the early 90's, and my last job on the mainland was at an ISP.

My cave-in occurred about a week ago. Many days had passed since I'd had an update from my eldest child, my son. His life has been a lot like a meat grinder lately, and I get concerned, especially being across the sea. All I had to do was get back onto Facebook, and voila-conversation was immediately possible. This is a must, since we've been planning his escape from the Bay Area for a while. After 7 years of working and living there, he is about to jump ship. 7 years have brought a lot of change to that region, and most of it is negative. Especially if you're not a real estate magnate, start-up entrepreneur, or vapid techie. It's all over for the regular folks like me, who just happened to be born and raised there. Older daughter wants out as well, though not to Hawaii, yet. Probably to Santa Cruz county initially. But I digress... My son will be here soon. We both are thrilled and look forward to helping him decompress, wind down, regroup and rethink his life. We truly welcome the chance to have this time with him. He needs us, even though he is 32 years old. So what? He is my own flesh and blood until I breathe my last breath. Nobody is done growing and learning at 32, no matter what they say. Hopefully, one is growing and learning all of their lives. They should be! 

This opportunity for my son would never, ever have been an option with my own parents. Not when I wanted to get away from the Tahoe party life and go to college, or when I had my face pummeled by someone who claimed to love me, never did my family open their arms or their home to the younger me. Sometimes our children need a little emotional support in this life, and I haven't lost sight of that.

Do you ever wonder why some people had children in the first place? I do. I mean, I know why it happens... But why bother, if all you do is make them feel like they are burdensome disappointments throughout? My kids are this life's one true gift, and the primary reason I climb out of bed every day. They will never be made to feel otherwise, as I was.

I'll even put up with Facebook, if it means staying connected to my beloved family.

Maya Angelou

An inspiring woman on many levels. I met her once...

It was September of 1979, and I was on my one and only East Coast Grateful Dead tour. In a week's time, I saw shows in Glens Falls, N.Y., Rochester, N.Y., Augusta, ME., and then 3 nights at Madison Square Garden. (Ah, youth!)

My friends and I had just seen the final MSG concert. We had been staying with a deadhead friend in Manhattan. He wanted to drag us California kids to Greenwich Village for our first egg cream. We happily complied, and were soon chattering excitedly at a busy joint in the village. It had been lots of fun for all in the big apple, but we were ready to go home. As we verbalized our homesick thoughts, a woman in the booth next to us turned around and with the most beautiful smile said: "Oooh, I love San Francisco!" We then all conversed about the many things we loved about that city by the bay.

There were introductions at some point... And when she said her name was Maya Angelou, I was electrified-and not just because I had just seen my favorite psychedelic band kick ass at the Garden!

Being a big reader and wannabe poet, I immediately recognized her name. Not so sure whether the deadhead dudes I was with understood my giddiness or the prowess of this woman. I most certainly did! I've never forgotten her warm smile and kindred words. Thanks for inspiring, always, Ms. Angelou.

More than a decade later, I was at home in La Selva Beach with my 7-month old daughter, watching the inauguration of William Jefferson Clinton on t.v.  It was a celebratory time. I had worked for his campaign in my precinct, and life felt pretty damned hopeful. As I sat with my nursing daughter, watching Maya Angelou read her now-famous innaugural poem, tears of joy streamed down my face and onto my brand-new child. I will never forget that memory. The poem was published in small paperback form and I promptly purchased one for myself and one for my father, who also loved words and was hopeful about our newly-elected president. I still have mine, of course. Hoping to read the poem aloud to Glen later, when he is home from work. (He was forewarned, HA!)

Maya Angelou shares this date with my father. Today marks two years since he departed, leaving an emotional crevasse I am just beginning to understand. I mourn what was... And even more so, what was not.

Here's more about her San Francisco ties: 

http://blog.sfgate.com/stew/2014/05/28/maya-angelous-san-francisco-connections/

One Week on the Big Island

Not long enough, but quite wonderful...

Coconut Island- immediately after they landed in Hilo

Akaka Falls on a very warm morning

Jams at Mr. Ed's in Honomu

Hakalau- This bridge was originally the train trestle.

Mango daiquiris with our own mango purée 

Early morning on the Kona side-as seen from the chartered fishing boat we were on

Another sunrise shot on the boat

The first Ono/Wahoo he caught-about 20 pounds

His second catch-A 48 pound Ono!

The deck hand swiftly cut up our 70 or so pounds of fish

It was both adventurous and relaxing...

Besides catching it, he made the best sashimi ever-so incredibly fresh

He also dipped some in rice flour and fried it in coconut oil-my most favorite cooking oil

Daughter had to have a visit to Ken's House of Pancakes, of course.

Then a great walk at Carlsmith Beach Park, just past Richardson's.

It was gorgeous out there.

Another fine feast prepared entirely by our sweet guests.

Ready for grilling...

Ono in teriyaki marinade

Saying goodbye is so hard...

But they had a great visit.

Water Hyacinth

Just began to bloom in our pond. Perfectly timed, as my older daughter arrives for a visit tomorrow. 

Her visit is perfectly timed as well. These past few months have been lovely in ways I have never known. That said,  I miss my son and daughters and need to feel that sweet, safe familial bond again. 

Realizations and conclusions about extended family these last four months since my mainland trip have leveled me some. Amazing how different people and situations look with the blinders off.

When one lives a life of mostly-solitude, it's fascinating what bubbles up. Spooky, even. Even so, I am a very fortunate menopausal old broad, to have the luxury of just being. Especially these days.

Are You Kind?

This was posted this a few days ago, then put into my drafts while I played around with it a bit more. 

I found myself feeling that old, familiar guilt about being honest, Plus, it's nothing but someone else's dirty laundry to those who are unfamiliar personally with me or my strange little world.  I took it down and decided to sit with it for a few days. Very glad I did, because it only reinforced so much of what bugs me. I felt guilty because I always feel guilty, and I'm so over it. Nothing else has crippled me more emotionally in my lifetime. Perhaps one day I will understand what happened and when, but it doesn't matter. I now reject it in the name of self-preservation!

Some of my extended family may read here on occasion. Also, long-time friends from various phases of my life. This has 

often been a factor in what gets said. We all have our own versions of life's stories, and some may find fault with my particular version.  I mean no harm to anyone--- I just want to write. And that means just writing, free of the self-editing that occurs because I don't want to upset people I care for. What if I'm upset? Can't I just write what I want?

It can't all be pretty pictures and blah blah blah. That ain't me, babe. 

A very long time ago, my mother told me that I worried far too much over what other people thought. She never taught me how to stop it, either. She wasn't much of a builder-upper. Parents were different, then.

So, there is my disclaimer. My preface to the post below and any other posts that may contain my personal views, opinions, or stories. I just can't be worried anymore, about the unsolicited opinions of people who are thousands of miles away from me-literally and figuratively. 

I have found great peace these last few years. One reason is obvious-Hawaii, duh! There are other reasons and the biggest one is I am learning (at long last) to let go. It's not been simple-I was born an idealist/optimist, and for most of my years have always held out for that "positive" outcome. From my friends, family, and even the government. Ha! 

After more than five decades of often-disappointing outcomes, I've learned to lower the bar. Or remove it completely.

I find myself feeling more and more free of sorrow over disappointing outcomes. Because I've invested little or none of my own agenda in things that will inevitably underwhelm.

Then, when outcomes are positive and uplifting, I am genuinely happy and thankful. This has done wonders for my heart and mind. 

What a fool I was, entrusting those who had no intention of being honest, true, or ultimately kind. They who took so much of my energy and replaced it with their pain. expecting me to carry it for them. It wore me out. I didn't know how to fend them off, then. 

Some recent realizations have snapped me out of my comfy naivety. First I had to recognize some harsh truths, then grieve the loss of things that only existed in my ever-hopeful heart. And finally, leave it behind, replaced with self respect and love of those who understand what unconditional, non-judgmental love is.

You really only need a small number of people in your world, if they are good ones. I just don't have it in me to waste any more time on the shallowness or mean-spirited behavior of people who claim to like or love me. And blood ties do not necessarily ensure positive outcomes- a lesson I was slow to learn. (My children are always the exception.) 

When my father was in his last weeks of  life, an old friend gave me some advice that has (sadly) been spot-on. She told me not to be surprised at how *fucking weird" people would behave at the end of his life or in the wake of his passing. It's almost like his death was the green light. To marginalize and disrespect me in ways they could not while he was still in my corner. He was my champion, despite the fact that I never came close to achieving what he may have expected or hoped for. He loved me. I know it so deeply and purely. The rest of them? Not really sure.

And it's okay! It hurts to wake up to truths I've carefully avoided. But life is short and shorter all the time. So I choose love. And kind people. Or... my happy solitude.

Some would say I drew the short match when it comes to families. The firstborn child in a mercifully short marriage and an ugly, sad divorce by the time I was 7. Followed by minimal contact with my father for the next 5 years, Motherless at 24 (while pregnant with my first child) and always the lesser-than. The upside is my great fortune when it comes to a few real friends. I am rich in that regard. Plus, my children/our family provide everything I longed for but never knew. 

"We carry our parents in our skin and bones, like it or not, and struggling to remember them-correctly or not-is still an act of love."  Janet Zandy

Love and ...?

This year marked our 14th Valentines Day as a couple.  We have never gotten too caught up in the pressure to go overboard on that holiday.  Or any other, really.  There have been cards and flowers, occasionally.  Or a nice meal, or bottle of wine. We both agree that showing one's love and affection shouldn't be limited to one day per year.  Last Friday, I got up early with him, like always.  We quietly sipped our coffee and watched the sun appear. I made him breakfast and he was off to work until the early evening.  

He arrived home, sweaty and tired.  But smiling.  I complained that he didn't text me for a  grocery list and he said he was sorry, but he had stuff on his mind.  I asked him what sort of stuff... He then grinned, opened his arms, and  asked me to marry him.  "Of course!"  was my obvious answer.

After 15 years of cohabitation and most every life-hurdle one can imagine, it's official.  I'm giddy-moreso than expected.  Because he asked, I guess.  My first wedding was in 1981.  I was four months pregnant with my son.  We were hippies, living in the hills near Pescadero.  My mother was dying.  There was no proposal-we just did what we thought was expected of us.  It was a fun wedding. Country style, at tiny Pescadero Community Church.  

The reception was held at the church hall and my friends and I made all of the food, including a freshly-butchered turkey from my friend Christine's flock. Our friend Jim made a beautiful wedding cake, topped with marzipan skeletons.  It was a nice, eclectic mix of family and friends.  We didn't have the money for a fancy honeymoon, but we did manage a weekend in Big Sur, one of my favorite places on earth.  My mother died seven days after the wedding and Aaron was born in April.  Daughter Madeline came along a few years later, as did the demise of our marriage.  Blame it on our ages and the drift that too often occurs when people marry in their early twenties.  In retrospect, I was impatient and unrealistic about my expectations of him and our relationship.Our union lasted about six years. We have been divorced for more than 25 years. We are friends to this day.

My second marriage was also of the shotgun variety.  This relationship was volatile from the start.  Red flags waved in my face, ignored.  I must have felt the need to punish myself, and that's what I did.  I got pregnant just as my youngest child was starting kindergarten.  My then-partner promised to love and care for my two existing kids like he did his own child, and sent a letter to my father, proclaiming just that.  He didn't follow through on that proclamation. He terrorized and abused my two older kids on a regular basis.  I was then attending college classes in the evenings, attempting to improve my job skills.  I eventually dropped out when he announced that he couldn't cope with the childcare workload.  Things finally fell apart completely in 1998.  I drove him to the train station in Riverbank and he took up residence on his parents couch for several years. I've written about this fatal mistake of mine here before...  It wasn't until a few years after our split that I learned about his daily abuse of my children-especially my son.  When confronted, he admitted to all of it.  With no explanation.  As if any explanation would have excused it.  That marriage lasted about seven years.  We are not friends.  I work on forgiving myself and him every day of my life.  A total mistake, except that it brought me Quinn.  She makes all that ugly stuff worthwhile.  Our wedding took place on a bluff in La Selva Beach.  The wedding party consisted of my three kids. Quinn was eight months old and in my arms.  We couldn't afford a honeymoon, either.  But my friend's family owned the Seacliff Inn in Aptos, and she booked us a suite for the night as her gift.  Our baby girl accompanied us.  (She was breast fed-and spoiled!)  I would likely not have married him, but his father made a big (Catholic) fuss about it. We have now been divorced for almost 10 years-it took me 6 years to get him to sign the divorce paperwork.

 

In my current relationship, there has been no rush to marry.  We were not interested in having babies together, and instead focused on raising the kids we had.  He was thrust into his role as stepdad, and we went about the work of life.  There were heartbreaks and disappointments aplenty.  And two daughters to guide through adolescence.  We came close to falling apart way more than once.  The girls grew up and moved out.  Our fathers both died within a few years of each other.  We left our home state for this new frontier, and we ride out the challenges that come with such an endeavor.  We saw our  future here. Together.  We spoke of making it official, and I knew it might occur at some point. But this time, I wanted that proposal I had not yet experienced.

So... even though it was an inevitability,  he managed to totally surprise me. Especially proposing on Valentines Day, a day we have both laughed off as a Hallmark holiday.  I look forward to the rest of life's journey with him by my side.  As he says, this love is "road tested!"

We found this rock in 1999--at the base of a waterfall that drops onto Secret Beach in Point Reyes, California. It's a favorite, magical spot and this rock reminds me of our time there.

Tales from the Mainland

I left the island on a balmy Christmas afternoon.  My surprise gift was having three seats to myself all the way to Oakland.  The poor man's first class!

The other unusual thing about my flight to Oakland International Airport was that it ended in a late-night BART ride to the city. Since my plane arrived late on Christmas night and BART was operating, it seemed smart. In years past, I might have wimped-out on such a solo adventure.  I have unfortunately lived in one-too-many small, mostly-white towns over the last couple of decades, until I reclaimed my inner city girl a few years back. The town I now call home is definitely small, but extremely diverse. I am much more comfortable, living in that environment. Anyway... the last leg of my mainland journey was a cinch.  And no poor soul had to drive across the Bay Bridge to fetch me at 11:30 on Christmas night. Plus, I didn't pay $75.00 for a cab ride.

My checked bag showed up fast and I headed outside to catch my AirBart connection. It cost $3.00, and the bus rumbled through the streets to the Coliseum BART station.  My belongings consisted of one rather large checked bag-on-wheels, my backpack, and a reusable Foodland shopping bag. I dragged it all to the automated ticket area, spent  $4.00 on my ticket, then went up the escalator to the platform. I waited only moments for a Daly City train, which would take me to my final destination. 

 

The Golden State Warriors had just won the basketball game at the Coliseum, and  some  of the attendees were also boarding the train. The mood was jubilant, due to the team's victory and it being Christmas.  I grabbed a seat and let my daughters know I was on the final leg of my day-long journey.  They were meeting me at the 24th and Mission stop-several blocks from older daughter's apartment. My poor son was sick with a hellacious cold, so I didn't see his face until the next day.  The flight had arrived ahead of schedule and I'd be in the city well before midnight.  The trip under the bay was swift and entirely uneventful.  I listened to a couple of tunes and enjoyed a little people watching and was in the city in about thirty minutes.  I rode the escalator upstairs and there were my daughters, laughing and smiling.  Sweet relief. We scurried through the now-hushed streets to my daughter's apartment. Then it was officially Christmas.

"Life is either a daring adventure or nothing."

Helen Keller

Wordless Wednesday

Not Entirely Wordless Wednesday

Mele Kalikimaka! This is where I long to be... and will be, at about midnight.

At my older daughter's place in the city, where I will reunite with my three kids!

Because the best things in life aren't things. 

They Shake Their Bones

Dia de Los Muertos mosaic art by an old pal from the Tahoe Days, who is, these days, a longtime resident of Santa Cruz. This card arrived in the p.o. box yesterday.  I still delight in receiving snail mail, aging curmudgeon that I am. It was sent by another friend in Santa Cruz.  Where my babies were born, and much, much more.  

It's been almost a year since I've seen two of my three kids. More than five months since older daughter visited us. That's nearly an eternity in mama time.  Hoping to pull off a trip to Northern California at the end of this year to see my children and loved ones.  Because the only tough part about this amazing existence in paradise is missing people that I love.  Which is something I fully expected, so not a surprise. As long as I can get to the mainland once a year, l'm good. And then, someday...

So, am looking into possibilities. Knowing that each time I return to the mainland, and my former haunts, I am reminded of what's changed.  And what remains.

and the wind cries...

mary.

my mother was born on this date in 1929. i cannot conjure up what she would be like as an 84 year old woman.

in my memory, she will always be 52 and stoically resigned to her fate.

here is a photo of mary's eldest granddaughter. she has always resembled my mother, which has been a great comfort. a sort of consolation prize from the universe.

happy birthday, mama. happy autumnal equinox, everyone else.

Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday

My son's latest tattoo.  Don't judge-

It's meant to be tongue-in-cheek.  (This guy was a nerd kid before it was hip.)

I am neither tattooed nor am I a huge fan of tattooing in general.  Nor am I pierced  anywhere but my ear lobes.

However, it is his choice and I refuse to get into a snit over these things with my grown up kids.  Vastly different than my guilt tripper relations dealt with such things.  People really need to lighten up.

Wordless Wednesday

Salad Days

Dinner: Three kinds of lettuce-from friends,blanched fiddlehead ferns-from neighbor,baby broccoli,chives, and tomatoes- from the greenhouse at my employers place,green olives,Japanese cucumber,and my daughter's red wine vinaigrette dressing. Oh, and shredded Parmesan cheese. 

Richardson Beach Park

Mauka

We took a nice walk up the hill this morning.

Wordless Wednesday