2020 Cherry Blossom

How to make mochi
Vendors setting up
Saying a prayer for a safe celebration
Country Line Dancing
Country Line Dancing
Bon Dancing
Young Taiko Players
Bon Dancing
Feeding the Lion
Feeding the Lion
Feeding the Lion
Feeding the Wise Man
Following the Wise Man
Mochi Pounding Demonstration
Mochi Pounding Demonstration
Getting the demo on film
Mochi Pounding Demonstration
Antique Sewing Machine at the Quilt Show
Local Performers
The Crowd
Crowd Favorite Taishoji Taiko
Taishoji Taiko
Taishoji Taiko
Taishoji Taiko
Taishoji Taiko
Taishoji Taiko
Taishoji Taiko
Taishoji Taiko
Taishoji Taiko
Taishoji Taiko
Taishoji Taiko
Taishoji Taiko
Taishoji Taiko
Taishoji Taiko

Asian Fix 2020

It’s that time of year again! Time to get my fix of all things Asian. I will be hitting the Queens’ Marketplace for the Chinese New Year to welcome in the Year of the Rat. This is followed by Waimea’s own Cherry Blossom Festival the next day. For more info please visit Queens’ Marketplace at https://www.queensmarketplace.net/events/asian-fest/ and Waimea Cherry Blossom Heritage Festival’s Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/Waimea-Cherry-Blossom-Heritage-Festival-195555713803758/.

See you there and Gong Xi Fa Cai!

A Christmas Card to Heaven

A Christmas Card to Heaven

This Christmas card needs

To be Heaven sent

To my Mom and Dad

To Heaven they went

It’s Christmas time

That you must know

I miss so much

From Earth below

Merry Christmas people say

And be of good cheer

But for me and my family

We wish to hear

Mom’s clinking of pans

Her oven is roaring

She’s deep in white flour

But the love is outpouring

Dad drives us off

To Christmas service we go

We pile in the car

To the Christmas show

My parents they hung

Our stockings with care

On Christmas morning

They would be there

This Christmas is different

I don’t feel merry

My parents are gone

And I feel weary

Yes, wish us Merry Christmas

But please don’t forget

Those who have lost loved ones

Are still mourning yet

Healing is difficult

Definitely takes time

Mean spirited I’m not

So I wish you all a Happy Christmas time

North Kohala Reading

North Kohala Authors Reading September 23

Seven readers and perhaps as many as six pop-up poets will share their work with the North Kohala community on Monday, September 23, from 6-7:30 p.m. at the North Kohala Public Library.  Eila Algood will emcee the event.

Scheduled readers are Laura Burkhart, Michael Foley, Donna Beumier, Carla Orellana, Wendy Noritake, Louise Riofrio and Virginia Fortner. Three “pop-up” poets already committed include Diane Revell, Jim Gibbons and Eila Algood.  

The event is free and open to the public, and is always popular, so come early to get a seat. Eila has recorded a public service announcement for this one, so it is sure to draw a large crowd.    For more information please visit the Hawaii Writers Guild website. https://www.hawaiiwritersguild.com/events-calendar.html

Grieving My Mother

I love to write. I love to blog. But I have been busy with not just work and the daily grind. My sisters and I have lost our mother who passed this June which is one reason why I have not been posting as often as I would like. Blogging has taken a back seat to paying Mom’s outstanding bills, meeting with lawyers, and cleaning out a 40 year old, 2 storied, childhood home. Therefore I have not done much in keeping up on my blog.

But I have written poems since my Mom’s passing. I haven’t written a whole slew of them;only three. But when they come they come out of me spontaneously and they make me cry. They are so spontaneous that I grab whatever paper and pen I have in reach that I just start jotting it down.

The day my Mom passed I was on my way to an AARP Driver Safety class in Hilo on the Big Island of Hawaii. I took the Daniel K Inouye Highway. The drive was just above the cloud line and I felt I was driving to heaven.

During my class I got a call from my sister who said Mom had died. I took the Hamakua route back home so that I could stop by the North Hawaii Community Hawaii Hospital where Mom died. On the drive back I thought of the following poem:

Above the Clouds

I took a drive
Above the clouds today
Little did I know
That on this day
My mother’s life
Would float away

A few days after Mom’s passing I called her land line number. Mom never had a mobile phone because she never liked the idea of having to conform to joining the Joneses. If I needed to call I would have to call her good, ole fashioned land line phone. Before we ended her phone service I would call for old times sake. On the eve of termination however, this poem came to my mind:

Phone Home

I use to call home
And someone would always answer
But now I can’t call home
Because no one will answer

Then there is our childhood home that we have to clean out. As children that house was full of noise; the collapsing of a crib on all three of us, Mom’s bread machine whirring, Dad’s sawing in the garage, and the hum drum of friends and relatives coming over to visit.

Now when I go there to clean it out I hear nothing. I have to blast NPR news on the radio just to fill the empty void. What was once a home has just now become a shell of its former self. What was a home has now just become a house.

The day I wrote this last poem I had just left the house to get something to eat in town. I didn’t have a notebook. But I did have a large envelope and a pen. I could not let go of the fact that our childhood home has now just become a house. That thought just gnawed at my heartstrings. I could not let it out any other way other than through poetry.

On that manila envelope this is what I wrote:

Home or House

When does a house 

Become a home?

When tenants move in

And memories begin

When fights break out

And children run about

When celebrations are had

Driving those involved insanely mad

When friends come over

Because there’s a sleepover

And family from afar

Drive up in their cars

That’s when a house

Becomes a home

When does a home

Become just a house?

When those tenants move or die

And those lasting memories say good-bye

When those children have grown and gone

Time and distance have broken that bond

When the party ceases

And age increases

When friends stop coming over

Because they too are getting older

That’s when a home becomes just a house.

Thank God I had that folder because I was just in tears as I was writing this one. I could not even see what I was writing and I used up all the napkins the restaurant clerk gave me.

So if you do not see any updates on my blog it is because we are preparing to bury my Mom and Dad. We have not had a service for Mom yet due to scheduling conflicts. But we will have one in October. I will try to post more poems, short stories, and events about future readings.