postcard days

Hawaiʻi is a perennial postcard – gold-hued, full of life and light, and stretching into infinity. Hauʻoli i ka manawa.

shaka, brah

The plane touched down in Kalului around 3:00 pm. Minutes later we departed the aircraft and strolled through the open-air terminal to claim our bags. As a mainlander I immediately sensed something, although I couldn’t articulate what it was. Perhaps the cumulative effects of an 11-hour flight messed with me. Maybe the warm breeze rustling through the palms created a psychological illusion. It may have been the lack of scowling, brash crowds which tugged at me, people jostling to get a prime spot at the baggage carousel in a hurry to move onto the next angst-filled activity. Whatever it was, one thing was certain: something was in the air, invisible yet tangible, passive yet active. It whispered, “Aloha, malihini. Welcome to Hawaiʻi.”

During our time on the islands it was impossible not to be seduced by the unhurried pace, the remarkable natural beauty, and the genuine smiles and calm demeanor of the locals. I realize tourism is the lifeblood of the state and it would be foolish to treat visitors poorly, yet this was different. It wasn’t just the pleasant daily interactions which struck me,

common threads #16: thumb sucking

We think of thumb sucking as a baby’s behavior, one which may slide into toddler years. From birth a child will reflexively suck on any object put into its tiny, gummy mouth. Most agree this is a natural reflex evolved over many millennia (or 6,000 years if you are a strict creationist) to facilitate breast-feeding. You see it was difficult for a toothless child to eat fresh kill, be it rabbit or Stegosaurus. Sustenance had to come from somewhere lest the species wither away, so nature provided mother’s milk. What a beautiful thing, nature and nurture working together before the versus jumped in and ruined everything.

The sucking reflex associated with survival disappears early, generally after four months. Yet the pleasurable sensations associated with it don’t just evaporate like a barista when you absolutely cannot get through the next 30 seconds without a triple mocha Frappuccino. The cravings it satisfies – comfort, security, contentment – remain powerful. Substitutes are needed to fill the gap, both in your mouth and psyche. People who study these things call post-infant thumb sucking a non-nutritive sucking habit. The fastest and most readily available understudy is your thumb. It is literally

so far away

I walked around the local market and bumped into an old neighbor. He and his wife moved about two years ago, staying in town but upgrading to a single-family house to accommodate their ever-expanding brood. Despite his snug mask, I immediately recognized him.

“Hey! How are you?” I asked with genuine sincerity. He was a good neighbor, familiar without being intrusive, interested without being nosy, caring without being phony.

“Hi, John! It’s so nice to see you,” he replied, eyes smiling.

I tend to handle these types of chance encounters pretty well. I can effortlessly make a few minutes of small talk. It is a minor skill which hopefully helps

guest blogger: lillian la france

They called me the “Girl Who Flirts with Death.” I never saw it that way. All I wanted was somethin’ different. Grown’ up in Kansas as I did, different were hard to come by. Farms, winds, wheat, and prairies were my life. By the time I left my teenage years I were as restless as a bull sniffin’ around a cow in heat. I weren’t about to get married and have a litter of lil’ ones like every other farmgirl in the county. That was a quick road to hell, if you pardon my language. I saw what that done to Mama, bless her heart. By the time she turned 40 she was wore out from scrapin’ by on the farm and tendin’ to 9 kids. Ain’t no shame in that, but it weren’t for me. When I were 22 I left home and joined the first travelin’ carnival that would hire me.

They didn’t know what to do with me, so they gave me low jobs like muckin’ out the pens. It really weren’t no different from what I done back home, except now I got some money. Weren’t much, but it were mine. Best of all

philadelphia freedom

Early Saturday afternoon I was suddenly consumed with a burst of restlessness, an urgent need to get out of the house and do something that did not involve staying in the house. It was a gorgeous day – high clouds, crystal blue skies, mild temperatures with low humidity. There were plenty of local options to burn off the jumpiness. We could shoot down the road into Princeton and wander among the ivy, day trippers, and shops. A short drive in any direction would take us to hiking trails and parks. We could stroll around our familiar streets and blithely comment on minor changes to our neighbor’s outdoor décor. We could do any of these things, things we’ve done 1,000 times before. But on this particular Saturday I wanted more than the usual distractions. I quickly concocted an impromptu plan.

I slipped downstairs. With the subtlety of a diplomat I asked Caryn if there was anything she hoped to get done before the end of the day. She mentioned a few things, but they all had a self-imposed deadline of Sunday night. Seeing an opening, I shot my plan at her. (Figuratively.) “Let’s go spend the night in Philly!” Within minutes we were headed south to the city where Ben Franklin fathered an illegitimate son, where Angelo Bruno was rubbed out Mafia-style in front of his home, and where

wild wild west

Yesterday Texas slipped further back into its wild, wild west fantasies. A flurry of laws went into effect which make the Lone Star State a fascinating and depressing petri dish of individual liberty and systematic repression. The ever-shifting Texan ground is fertile for commentary. Today let’s focus on House Bill 1927.

House Bill 1927, named for the last year when all was right with America dammit, allows most Texans to carry a handgun without first securing a permit. Before you get all indignant, keep in mind the Texas legislature is a reasonable body comprised of rational people making common-sense laws. For example, anyone convicted of a felony or domestic violence will still need that permit. Sensible, right? You should feel ashamed for scoffing at the notion the Texas legislature is anything other than reasonable.

Assuming you are without conviction, you are now free to carry your gun as you please. You can mosey down the street and play cowboy without needing a stupid piece of paper from a stupid bureaucratic hack trying to enforce

shorts: 16

Short film reviews to suit our short attention spans. If your attention holds, more can be found here.

Nomadland (2020) – A beautiful, if a bit over-romanticized, chronicle of living in America without a permanent home. (3) – 08/31/21

Waiting for Guffman (1996) – This take on the classic trope of “putting on a show” is sublimely brilliant. (3½) – 08/31/21

Dumb and Dumber (1994) – Check please! (4) – 08/31/21

Trial of the Chicago 7 (2020) – Potentially fascinating historical drama offers no evidence

a parting gift

Since musician Nanci Griffith’s recent death her fans have flooded social media with an avalanche of tributes. They reflected on songs and albums which hold special meaning. They remembered concerts and television appearances. They talked about times when her music shepherded them through challenging periods. These posts were (and still are) varied, heartfelt, and often tinged with sadness and melancholy. But almost universally they were framed with feelings of gratitude and thanks.

The official announcement of her passing specifically mentioned her wish that no details surrounding it be publicly shared for at least a week. It was a curious and, in this age, unusual choice, although

don’t forget about the squidger

Word came down today that my nephew was admitted to the University of Cambridge. He will begin his studies in the fall. As a statement of fact, he is officially further along than I was at 18. Heck, he is further along than I am now. Okay, I realize his accomplishment is not about me, but I simply want to assuage any uneasiness he may have harbored about a direct comparison to his New Jersey uncle. I imagine this was his predominant concern over the past several months as he awaited news of his acceptance. How could it not be? Well, the results are in and you are on it like a car bonnet. Rest easy, good nephew.

Cambridge is, as you know, one’s of the world’s most British universities. Founded over 550 years before the United States was even a gleam in a suspicious Plantagenet’s eye, they have been in the education biz for a long, long time. Not University of Bologna long, but definitely longer than