Cock fighting is just plain foul

The other day Ron spotted the neighbor over the fence and offered him one of our giant cabbages. We certainly have plenty, after all, and have shared with two other neighbors as well. This neighbor, a Hawaiian, had a gift in return: two bags of freshly smoked pork! Onolicious! It's really good just dipped in the sweet-hot Hickory Farms mustard we got for Christmas. Giving and sharing whatever you have is a strong part of Hawaiian culture. Once, at the airport, I commented on how nice a woman's lei smelled. She smiled and gave it to me. What a lovely custom.
Not all cultural practices and customs are created equal, however. There was a front page article in the paper today about the impact of a new federal law making cock fighting a felony. Cock fighting is technically illegal in Hawaii, but it's fairly prevalent here, especially in the Filipino community. Arguments in favor of cock fighting in the paper came from frustrated chicken owners who feel their culture, customs and way of life are being ever threatened by mainland influences, by people with different values who just don't get it. Hmmm... human sacrifice and burning witches at the stake were once regular cultural practices too, but we no longer condone them. While I don't equate the killing of humans with the death of chickens, it does seem we should have evolved by now so as not to sanction practiced animal cruelty in the name of cultural practice. Of course, I'm just one of those haoles from the mainland who don't get it. Cops say that whenever they bust up a cock fight, there's always plenty of gambling involved, not to mention alcohol and drugs. Ironically, proponents claim it to be a wholesome activity the whole family can enjoy. Apparently, they bring along the kids, the grills and a picnic and make a day of it, like one big tailgating party. Amazingly, owners often attach sharp, metal barbs to their roosters' feet so that they can inflict more damage and make for a particularly dramatic and bloody contest. Nice, huh? Many of the men quoted in the article said that they would probably quit fighting the chickens if faced with the possibility of felony charges. In my enlightened opinion (if I don't say so myself), that is a very good thing.
I will say, however, that the chickens are beautiful.
I think we set a new record this week. A new record during our tenure on the island anyway. We had five days with no rain. It began misting heavily this afternoon, however, so everything's getting well soaked yet again. Since the water tank is down to about half full (or is that half empty?), a little rain may actually be a good thing. Sheesh. Did I just say that?
A hui hou. Aloha.

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Fruity booty

It was a long drive from Glenwood to the northern tip of the island -- three hours -- so for sustenance, we stopped at Baker Tom's for malasadas on the way. My pal Kathy and I were headed to Kapa'au for a hike, one we'd read about in the local newspaper. The couple who run Baker Tom's (not sure if the husband is actually Tom or not) are delightful, with enduring stamina. They're as old as radio, yet they're always on duty, ready to serve behind the counter, as they have for many years, frying, baking, brewing and smiling, there in Papaikou , gateway to the Hamakua Coast. The malasadas are enormous, cheap and delicious, the coffee OK, the tourists all happy to have discovered this place, buzzing with sugar and caffeine. They make a killer pumpkin cheesecake at Baker Tom's, too. It's always a pleasant stop. Ahapua'a . It's a Hawaiian land division, usually a strip or wedge, stretching from mountain to sea. Hawaiians lived in villages wit

Born and bred

The creature stared at me, wide-eyed through the florescent glare, Saran Wrap stretched tight across its broad back. Alone in the seafood cooler, he was the only one of his kind, there among the farmed, color-added Atlantic salmon and mud-flavored tilapia, perched on a blue foam tray, legs tucked 'round him like a comfy kitten. He didn't blink. He was dead, red, cooked and chilled, ready to eat. Such a find is rare in the City Market fish department in Gunnison, Colorado. What if nobody takes him home? I thought. This beautiful animal will have died needlessly, ripped from his home, family and friends (Dory, Nemo, Crush and Gill?) only to be tossed in the trash when his expiration date came and went. I lifted him for closer inspection, checked that date, felt the heft of him, scanned his surface for cracks and blemishes. The creature was perfect. I lowered him back into the cooler, nodded farewell, turned to walk away, took one step, and stopped. Shoppers strolled past, stud

On Tennis and Writing and Being Too Nice

I've recently been recruited to play tennis for a local 4.0 ladies tennis league team, referred to as either "Team Debbie" for the nice woman who manages us, or "Have Fun," which is our pre-match chant. We're still looking for a proper name. But we do have fun, despite getting creamed most outings. Last Saturday, we played in the Edith Kanakaole Tennis Stadium in Hilo. Good thing, too, since outside it was pouring, complete with thunder and lightning. It's a substantial structure, covered, yet open all around, most famous for hosting the annual Merrie Monarch Hula Festival in April. It was about 85 degrees outside and 100 percent humidity, air so thick it took three sucks of my albuterol inhaler just to breath. Several of us arrived early to warm up, but after twenty minutes' steady rallying with my teammate, Keiko, the human backboard, I was drenched. I played doubles with a nice, extremely fit and excellent ground-stroker named Cynthia from Pahoa.

Mountains and Islands

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