Skip to main content

An old favorite song

Hilo now has what may be the weirdest radio station in the known universe. KHBC is actually a pretty old station, but was previously broadcast only on the AM dial. Now, it's comes into my car via FM signal. Better yet, Kahikina and Lyman, two of my faves from KAPA (and two of the most well known radio personalities on the island), recently defected from their old digs and are now part of the evening drive time, Pau Hana Party show on KHBC. They share the mics with a gal named Pohai. Initially, I wasn't too keen on Pohai, thinking Lyman (formerly one of the boloheads on KAPA) and Kahikina (aka Tommy Ching, the Polynesian Pirate) could handle the show quite nicely on their own. Now, however, I see that she really adds zaniness. In fact, she's hilarious. Pohai has the perfect female radio voice, deep, a little raspy yet uniquely feminine. I like her. KHBC is strange because the station's musical offerings are all over the map. They might play a classic Hawaiian tune, followed by U2, followed by Buck Owens. In the morning, they play a lot of country (the a.m. DJ calls himself Myna Bird) and at night a lot of Jazz. But really, at any given time, you might hear just about anything. So the other morning, there I was, listening to Myna Bird, parking my car at the Bank of Hawaii, when on came a song I haven't heard since I was a little kid. And wouldn't you know it, I remembered every stinkin' word. It's called Tennessee Bird Walk. Click on the link and take a listen. The tune is a classic. Listen once and it'll be rattling around in your head fo' days. This is such a catchy little ditty that I'm now inspired to learn it on my ukulele.

The assignments are already starting to come in for school. I've been asked to submit two short stories by June 26th. Gulp! Since I've only written one short story in my life (fiction, that is), I've got to get crackin' and whip up another one.

I'm excited that my new laptop is on it's way from Apple to Hawaii. I suspects it's parts originate from places all over the world; maybe the hard drive is made in Taiwan, the micro-chip in China, the RAM from Dublin and assembled in South Korea. That's just a guess, but I could be close. Whatever. As long as it gets here by next week and works and I can quickly refresh my Apple memory and figure the contraption out, all will be well. Of course, I'll have to take out a second mortgage on the house to pay for the crazy thing.

Today, I spent the morning perusing produce at the Hilo Farmers' Market. Mangos and lychee are back in season. Yay! I also splurged on a new aloha shirt. Those of you who know me know that I really need another one of those... (like a puka in da po'o). It's really cute, though; maroon with tiny pineapples all over.

A hui hou. Aloha!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

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...

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...

General goofiness

I was driving home from an abbreviated shift at work last night when I turned on the radio and heard Bob Dylan singing Everybody Must Get Stoned .  I was reminded of a placard I once saw at a Dairy Queen in Colorado that read, Everybody Must Get Coned .  So it occurred to me, there navigating through the misty darkness, that with a slight modification, this could be a great slogan for a number if different businesses.  Here's my list. Telecommunications company: Everybody must get phoned . Cutlery shop and knife sharpening services: Everybody must get honed . Credit Union: Everybody must get loaned . Brothel: Everybody must get moaned. Winery: Everybody must get Rhoned . Fitness Center: Everybody must get toned . Local planning commission: Everybody must get zoned . Bio-research company: Everybody must get cloned. Doggy daycare: Everybody must get boned. Manufacturer of modern, unmanned spy planes: Everybody must get droned . Reader of corny mottoes and slogans listed on a chees...