Reconnection are meditations to help you through this time.
It is how tall I am. How deep you are buried when you die. How far from each other we are supposed to be. It is also the name of an impromptu jazz band that sprung up Thursday afternoon at Green Lake park. 6 feet Staying inside on a sunny, 60 degree spring day in... Continue Reading →
We were making copies using the ditto machine in the teacher’s resource room of our school. When the teacher’s aide – we kids called “slap jaw” - walked through the intoxicating fumes of the duplicating solvent to talk to us. She asked us where we were going to high school – we both replied Sullivan.... Continue Reading →
Today I give thanks to this happy couple. My parents - circa 1969 at Banff or Glacier NP. They represent what the United States of America is all about. A country of compassion. A country of opportunity. A country where an economic refugee from Germany and a political refugee from Cuba, could meet, fall in... Continue Reading →
This week began with my hand banged up and my finger throbbing from having a splinter. Not the greatest start of a week. I haven't blogged because there are days I just don't have the time nor the story. Today was going to be another storyless day. I spent 11 hours in downtown Honolulu in... Continue Reading →
Thursday night farmer's market in Kailua is a family affair. There are food vendors where you can find, Thai, Vietnamese, Japanese, Turkish, and my favorite Kalua pork... There are about 5-6 produce vendors mixed in with prepared food vendors, such as Hummus made with breadfruit (Ulu), salsa, poi (made from taro), cookies, pies, butter mochi... Continue Reading →
On December 17th, 2014, I was on a cruise ship, sailing to within four miles of the coast of Cuba. I was on a cruise with my mother, my husband and best friend from high school. We just left the Bahamas and were on our way to Ocho Rios Jamaica. I knew the ship would... Continue Reading →
Remembering those who fought in wars involuntarily and paid the ultimate price.
Why does the death of my grandfather, a man I never met and my father hardly knew, fascinate me?
War is no light matter, we are all touched by it. I have been touched by it. My family a casualty of it.
War is a part of my history.
To bring war out of the history books, out of the television, the newspapers, out of one’s imagination, out of my imagination, I felt a need to retrace the final days of my grandfather’s life.
When my older brother mentioned he was going to France to find Opa’s grave, I had to go along. I wanted to make my history, my reality. I wanted to see and feel the place where the battles of Normandy freed a continent on the souls of so many men. I wanted to own the small fraction of that piece of history that was my heritage.
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I sat at the table watching my grandmother uncover the large pot sitting on the stove. As steam billowed from under the cover, the fragrance of oregano, garlic, onion, tomato, chicken and a hint of white wine, tickled my nose and made my stomach growl. I eagerly awaited my plate of arroz con pollo piled... Continue Reading →