Getting to the core of life's silliness

The other day, I walked into Ron's office and he noticed some blood on my arm.

"What happened there?" he asked.

"Oh, I guess I just scratched myself. You know, they say your thin gets skinner as you get older." That's exactly how I said it. I noticed the slip as it came out. "So I guess my thin is getting skinner, too."

He laughed. "I heard the way you meant it, not how you said it. I guess my brain switched the words back around."

I bought a watermelon the other day. It had been a long time since I'd had any and it made me think of my dad. When I was a kid, I remember coming home from wherever I'd been and looking in the fridge to find a big, fat watermelon. I'd remove the tin foil covering, anticipating a thick, juicy slice. Instead, I would find the center of the carved out, as though some confused antarctic scientists had taken a core sample. My dad had gutted the thing. He'd taken the sweet heart, leaving the dregs and the rind behind.

"Da-a-a-ad!" I would shout, then hear him laughing from the other room. "You took the best part!"

"Well of course I did," he'd say. He did it more than once. He did it every time. If you wanted a decent slice of watermelon in our house, you had to be first. So when I bit into that sweet juiciness yesterday, and then again today, I thought of him and smiled.

We ran out of gas today. Now we know that two propane tanks last us exactly 8 months. Usually we call when one runs out. Guess we spaced. No cooking (except on the grill or in the toaster oven or microwave or rice cooker or electric egg poacher) and no mechanical clothes drying 'til Tuesday. Oh my goodness, will we survive? I say lets eat out! Let's go to Ken's. Sumo!

A hui hou. Aloha!

Comments

Mom

This is my beautiful mom. She died last Sunday. For those who knew her, my heart breaks with you. For those who did not, here's an introduction to the best confidante, role model and mother a girl could hope for in life. This is the obituary I'd planned to submit to the local paper, but have opted instead to publish here. Obituary: Beverly Todd Bev -- my mom -- was a longtime caregiver, advocate, and dear friend to countless elderly in South Salem. Hers was a kind and generous spirit. She devoted much of her life to the welfare of others, giving wholly of herself and doing so always with great affection and humor. She was born Beverly Marie Steinberger in Silverton, July 23, 1938, the first child and only daughter of Art and Marie Steinberger. Her brothers called her Bevvy Buns, a nickname she grew fond of and wore proudly within the family circle as an adult. Bev attended St. Paul’s Elementary School in Silverton, Silverton High School and Marylhurst Co...

Back at it

It's been some time since I've written. My mom died in February, and I haven't had the gumption to write much, other than a couple of feature stories for the paper and the occasional pithy email to a friend. Tonight, sitting in my favorite burger joint with a pile of fries in front of me, I dunk them into a deep pool of ketchup mixed with a hot sauce. That's how Mom liked 'em. My burger? The Spicy Hawaiian, a nod to my 808 connections. It's a brilliant combination of peppers and pineapple, a favorite on the Power Stop menu. I'm sure she'd have loved it, too. There's a bubbly beer with a lime in it. That's not a homage to anything. I just like beer. These past months, I've done little but work, search and apply for jobs. Two rejection letters have landed in my email this week. Search-and-apply has become a futile obsession. It's time for a break, at least until I hear back from all those applications still floating around out there. I am...

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...

Mountains and Islands

Search This Blog