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Grandma

5/29/2011

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Grandma

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Beautiful plants give life and beauty to our yard on Kauai, and I suspect many of them are descendants of the original plantings in 1941 when our home was constructed. One of these plants is a delicate tree that grows vertically a few feet and takes a horizontal path, creating an umbrella effect.   In summer it produces huge clusters of very tiny little white flowers that last for a only a few days, then the entire tree goes into a barren state, leaving just a few small leaves .. reminding me of wispy fingers on willow trees around the world.   The overall effect of this tree in bloom is soft, gentle, and light as a feather. 

One summer day, when the little tree was in bloom, a lovely Japanese lady approached me as I was working in the yard.  We had a stimulating conversation, standing there in the soft evening sun.  I was still excited about the recent purchase of our home and she was a wealth of information regarding neighborhood history.  Her side of the conversation was focused on her children and grandchildren.  I recall thinking she was a typically proud parent and I became acutely aware of how very much she loved her family.   She wore her pride like a shining gold medal and it was emotionally moving to me.  I don’t know how long we talked with one another, but when the time came for her to leave she asked if I would mind her taking some flowers from the tree.  Of course I told her I didn't mind .. what else would a man say to a lovely & proud mother & grandmother?  I bid her goodbye and went into the house, leaving her to gather flowers.  When I returned to the yard a while later, I was shocked to see the tree nearly stripped of all those lovely blossoms.  Pretty little tree had gone from beautiful Maid Marion to Anorexic Betty.  Well, what did I expect?  I did tell her to take whatever flowers she needed, so she did.  The shock left quickly when I realized the flowers probably wouldn’t have lasted another two days anyway, and besides, Grandma was such a sweetheart I could harbor no ill feelings.

And on to Oklahoma ....

About five or six years ago I received a package from my Aunt Connie in Oklahoma.  The content of that package brought poignant childhood memories flooding into my soul.  Out of the small box came a brass Buddha that was stamped Made in Japan .  The Buddha is about five inches tall and has a container in his lap which holds a cone of incense to be burned, with a beautiful matching brass lid that covers the container when it’s not being used for that purpose.   Also in the box was a note from my Aunt, telling me that my Grandmother Mamaw (pronounced – Ma’am Ah - with emphasis on the first syllable) left a tiny note, rolled tightly and pushed inside the hollow head of the cast brass Buddha.  Mamaw had been deceased some thirty years prior to anyone finding the note, which was noticed by accident and certainly came as a most pleasant surprise to me.  This was truly a magical moment when I very carefully removed two small bits of paper, unrolled them, and read the words my Grandmother had written many years ago.   The first paper I unrolled read “Bought in Colorado before I was married” and the second note made me feel as special as I’ve ever felt in my life – “give to Billy”.

Fifty two years ago, in a different time and place, Mamaw and I spent many hours together in her house on Jones Street in Drumright.  There were times when she was the primary adult figure in my life, being a child of divorce and being raised at the time by my Father, her Son.  Dad was a good parent, particularly considering he was a thirty one year old single man.  I don’t know how he made it through those years of raising me without a woman around.  God knows I was a handful, and I know for certain I was problematic when it came to his dating life!  To his credit, Dad did the best he could, but no man can provide the same warmth & nurturing a woman can give, especially a Grandmother, and I enjoyed those times with Mamaw.  I recall fondly the times we played cards together and puttered around the yard.  In fact, I have just this moment recalled the time she killed a rattlesnake next to the house in her Iris garden.  She had a wonderful quiet strength, a warm smile, and an always welcoming demeanor.  She stood in as a replacement Mother figure and I loved her very much. 

The house on Jones Street had a fireplace with a mantle.  There are times when I want to go there and see it again, but I’m afraid it won’t stand up to the wonderful vision I’ve retained in my minds eye,  so I’ve not returned since I was nine years old, fifty two years ago.  Upon that mantle sat the brass Buddha.  

I  leave it for you to imagine how special my memories are of Mamaw bringing out a cone of incense, letting me strike the match to light it, placing it on the lap of Buddha, then enjoying the beautiful aroma together.  Some memories simply don’t have words to describe them, or possibly it would take way too many words and you would be asleep before the reading is done.  I trust you have your own grandmother memories to give you an understanding of how special that time is to my core consciousness.   Receiving Buddha in the mail so many years after her death brought emotions that swept over me in waves of melancholy.  From that moment on, Buddha has held center stage in our home.

Back home to Kauai ...

Several days after the lovely Japanese Mother & Grandmother stripped our tree, I was working in my home office when there was a very light tap at the door.  When I walked to the door I was greeted by my new friend, who presented me with five of the most beautiful handmade cards.  On the face of each card was a different grouping of flowers that had been dried, pressed, and laminated to create wonderfully unique images and textures.  Inside, the cards were all stamped with four different Japanese symbols which are meant to bestow good fortune on the recipient of the card.  The most beautiful card of all was covered with tiny white flowers, and she thanked me for letting her take them from our tree.  Those flowers were beautiful on the tree.  On her card those flowers were still beautiful, but they were also much closer and intimate than on the tree, and I caught myself examining them more thoroughly than I would have ever done in the yard.  

She had already touched my heart strings when she said “I’ll be right back”, and  walked to her car.  When she returned I was handed a beautiful plant.  It was a small plant with very glossy, dark green leaves and bright red berries.  She told me I could plant this “Japanese Good Luck” plant in my yard by itself, or it would make a great hedge that kids loved to pick the red berries from and throw at one another, or I could create a Bonsai.

The "German Connection" ...

My dear friend, Werner Meckelburg, sold me the most beautiful coffee table in the world when he returned to his native Germany.  The table is 36 ½” x 58 ¼” and stands 18 ½” off the floor.  It is solid Mango wood and is truly a work of art that was destined to be shared with friends.  I invite every person who steps into our home to put their feet up on the table, because it is the perfect height and it just feels good to do it!  The table is strong – the table is beautiful – the table is a special place for friends and family to gather.  Thank You, Werner, for this honor of being Keeper of The Table.

On “The Table” in our living room sits a round planter.  The planter is 4” high and 10” one side to the other.  Planted inside the planter is a Bonsai Tree.  It has beautiful bright green glossy leaves and brilliantly colored red berries.  The Bonsai is so vivid in color that one is tempted to touch it and make certain it is real.  Sitting beneath the Bonsai is a meditating Buddha.  The tree, the earth, the table, the planter, and the Buddha are in perfect harmony with one another.   They are perfect with one another because of the enduring energy of  Family and Friends .. new and old.
                                                                                                                                                                    
When I look at Buddha & the Bonsai .. I am happy.
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I wish each of you Happiness with Family & Friends ...

 from Kauai to Paris ... and all places between

Bill
9 Comments

Cleaning Paris

5/21/2011

2 Comments

 

Cleaning Paris

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EARLY MORNING METRO IN THE 80's
One ridiculously early morning, after enjoying a basement club on the Left Bank, I was seated at a sidewalk table with my coffee when a refuse collection vehicle appeared from around the corner ..  easing to a halt just feet away.  I expected to see some very dirty looking guy climb off the truck, walk to a can that had been left out, throw the contents into the truck, and climb back onto his perch as the driver moved to the next stop.  Forget expectations .. what I witnessed over the next few minutes remains with me today, many years later, as one pivotal point in my understanding  the City of Light and her wonderful inhabitants.

The truck didn’t come careening around my corner with any usual sounds of squeaking brakes or grinding metal as the refuse was compacted.  This truck was quiet and unobtrusive, almost polite in the way it entered the space I was enjoying.  Maybe that‘s why it caught my attention,  allowing me to view the most incredible scenario unfolding before my eyes.  Emerging from the truck were several men, all dressed in the same uniform .. bright orange jumpsuits.  The jumpsuits were not only spotless, they actually appeared to be ironed, custom fitted, and the men wearing them were immaculately manicured.   They all had stylish haircuts, were freshly shaven, and were obviously enjoying their work.  These Trash Men Performers could have easily been the inhabitants of a fashion ad, with their svelte physiques and elegant style.  The performance they gave was absolutely astounding.  Brooms were pulled from the truck, and a water hose magically appeared.  All the nights’ trash was quickly swept into the street where it was immediately washed to the sewer.  The entire environment changed in a flash .. from cigarette butts, discarded bits of paper, and the occasional pile of dog shit, to a pristine sidewalk which reflected hypnotic lights off its surface.   The men whistled and sang as they performed the task of dispensing refuse into the depths of Parisian sewer labyrinths.  When the song was over, they hopped back onto the truck and flew away .. into the city night ..  I felt excluded.

Parisians are generally attractive and seem to be born with fashion consciousness.  I seriously doubt they give much thought to clothing preparation because I’m totally convinced the “look” is now a portion of their genetic structure.  Pride of ownership in Paris is evident in each of Her children, and they will never allow their birthright to be compromised by shoddy dress or cracks in the aloofness they exhibit toward anything  not indicative of their city.  Theirs is a fierce pride, borne of many conflicts and broken promises through the ages, and now supported and uplifted by the incredible beauty  surrounding them on a daily basis.   This pride is embellished by the fact they inhabit one of the planets most frequently visited cities.  City of Love, City of Light, the city that has seen conquering heroes as well as vanquished martyrs pass through Her gates.
 

                                                            
She is an incredible lady.


I believe every Parisian enjoys the mystique of love associated with their home.  This love knowledge is written in an  obvious manner across their faces .. as if  to be purposely suppressing some special tidbits of intimacy from all mere mortals unfortunate enough to be born anywhere else.   Maybe She should be called City of Secrets.  It would destroy so much to know what they are thinking  that I’m happy to suffer any looks of indignation for the greater good of retaining the status quo.

It’s not difficult to understand those Trash Men Performers of Paris.  They are natural, being what they were born to be .. displaying what their heritage demands of them.   They are simply exhibiting what is expected of them by all the others who are deemed by fate and good fortune to be borne of Her.  I don’t mind admitting my envy.  Madame Paris is the siren of all siren’s .. the call is irresistible. 

                                             T
he show was over .. my coffee finished .. 

As a man who loves Paris and  wants to make certain I assist in the effort to always retain that which is undeniably unique and special .. I acted on the overwhelming compulsion to leave  a bit of trash on the sidewalk ...
                                                                                                                          

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Out the Kitchen window ...

5/18/2011

9 Comments

 

Out the Kitchen window ...

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It is  a blessing to live on the island of Kauai.  On a very personal and intimate level I feel I am one of the sixty five thousand luckiest human beings on our planet .. it is truly that wonderful.  But no matter where one lives, life presents its challenges and cold realities ... maybe more in the last three or four years than anytime in the preceeding sixty.  Beautiful locales are not immune to the realities of our modern world.  We are all connected to the same circumstance and pulse of this orb .. the angst of one place is the angst of another .. one human suffering is all humans suffering.   In that respect,  Kauai is Paris and Paris is Kauai .. and all places between.  

                                            The good news .. we are awakening 

Last year I went to Hanapepe town on a Thursday afternoon at 3 o'clock.  In each individual community on  the island  there  is a  scheduled Sunshine Market where growers present their luscious gift of fruits, vegetables, and flowers.  Hanapepe happens to be my favorite market .. and like produce markets the world over, it is not only rich in product, but rich in the positive energy of  those who work with the earth to provide the rest of us with yummy table treats.  The market opens precisely at 3:00.  No one is allowed to purchase prior to that time .. but, my oh my, does everyone posture and jockey for position to get exactly what they want when the bell is sounded (yes, someone actually hits a big bell with a hammer to start the market).  It is a civilized affair, with shoppers arriving early and viewing the different stands, deciding which goodies to bargain for with their handful of dollars.  In fact, the preliminary parade is possibly as important as the food itself.  Old friends, neighbors, and newly acquired acquaintances, met while looking at a bunch of apple bananas or an oversized avocado, give the open market a life connection we will never find rolling carts down the aisle.   All is perfect, providing you don't experience the elbow of a sweet little lady who has her eye on that delectable bunch of Filipino long beans ...  and even that comes with a beautiful smile.     

On this particular shopping day, I purchased a few Kauai Sunrise papaya.  There are a gazillion varieties of papaya on Kauai .. but nothing comes close to the taste, the texture, the aroma, or the heavenly mouth experience of a Kauai Sunrise papaya.  And, as with all produce, some particular fruits are just better than others.  This was the case with these papaya.  The first taste .. I knew this had to be duplicated.  For some time I had been wanting to plant papaya in our yard, and these incredible fruits pushed me over the edge.  Soon I was drying the seeds .. preparing the soil .. waiting for the full moon before planting  (Farmers Almanac must be correct :) .. and watching my "babies" grow.

This morning was like many other mornings in our home .. up early, put on the coffee, turn on the computer and check the market and emails while its aroma begins to work on my salivaries.  Sitting on the counter was a ripe Kauai Sunrise papaya.  I picked it two or three days ago and waited while it turned a golden yellow and was ready.  Out the kitchen window is the proud parent of this magnificent fruit .. from seed .. a glorius duplication of last years shopping.  
                
When I sat down to enjoy my breakfast .. I reflected on  how very nice it would be if every person could have the opportunity to taste it ...


from Kauai to Paris ... and all places between


That was my thought ... as I looked out the kitchen window.
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9 Comments

Baby

5/14/2011

7 Comments

 

Baby

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                       Never had a cat .. never wanted a cat .. didn't like cats. 

                                                   Then along came Baby.  


Any of you who have ever visited the Garden Isle know we have a population of feral cats.  White cats, black cats, yellow cats, calico cats, small cats, big cats, handsome cats, pretty cats, and butt ugly cats .. any cat you can conjure in your imagination is probably present on Kauai.  These tropical felines have no natural predators, don't jump out of the bushes and attack anyone, are quiet at night,  and I prefer them to the rats they savor .. so, space they occupy is a safe zone, as far as I'm concerned.   In short - they don't bother me .. I don't harass them.  That's how it has always been between me and the cats of Kauai .. clear back to 1987 when I first moved here.  

                                                        Then along came Baby.

In December of 2006 I purchased our present home.  It is a wonderful 1941 plantation style which was completely renovated and is as pleasing today as it was the first time I showed it to a prospective Client I was working with at the time.  That, of course, is another story .. which I will happily share one day.  As Darlene and I settled into our new found digs,  we immediately began spending a large amount of  time making the yard "ours".  Today, five years later, we have a wonderful environment of orchids, papaya trees, Hawaiian chili peppers, gardenias, pikaki, and too many incredible plants to list or recall in a single setting.  But five years ago we were "fighting the jungle" in a concentrated effort to create what we now enjoy.  It wasn't long into this process before I noticed them ..  two almond shaped eyes, watching warily from behind the panix hedge bordering our home.  



Proving you are master of your domaine .. that you can  conquer, control, and befriend  a creature in the bush is only a good thing if you wish to be  conquered,  controlled, and befriended.


 
Yes .. I did it.  I did it and she now occupies HER space on MY porch .. always in front of the door  ..  an immovable and glorified Kauai Sloth Cat Creature of great proportion that now exists only to torment HER humans with inhumane psychic messages pertaining to more .. more .. and more.  Forgotten are those days spent in the wild, scrounging for rats,  not enjoying the supple qualities of "homo sapienic touch".  Herald the present ..  in the land of albacore, served to her and her refugee friend, Vicious Bitch (yes, there is another ...  and you'll  hear about Vicious in the future).  She (they) dine in splendor, on those "special plates" with paw prints and elegant features.  One can Chicken of the Sea Albacore daily, mixed with Nzymes, as well as the "necessary" hypo-allergenic dry food, assures me they will never, ever, for any reason, by any chance, nor by Divine Providence ... leave.   But for some reason, clouded by mystery,  I love them.  


                      My space was once uncluttered .. my castle my kingdom ...

                                                     Then along came Baby 

                Once upon a time there was a feral human working in his yard ...


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     I am a Writer ... this is where I write ... where I exercise my passion.

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    ​Bill Facker
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