Travel Travails

     There was a time when air travel was fun. Even booking hotel and air travel was fun—part of the anticipation. And affordable. I miss those days.
     All it used to take were few phone calls to the airlines, hotel, or travel agent, perhaps a trip to an agent or local airlines ticket counter to pick up tickets and all was set. Lots of human contact afforded easy assurances and clarifications—never had a problem with botched dates, times, amounts, flights, overbookings, or anything, really, just be careful, reconfirm, get everything in writing and all was fine.
     Now, as I've been attempting a trip to Asia these past several years, booking air tickets is all on-line (or get reamed exorbitant extra fees to do it over the phone) and expensive, expensive, expensive, which is mainly why we haven't gone in over eight years. A year ago we might have gone to visit Deanne's mom and brother, but it fell through when Mom nixed the idea for various reasons. Recently, ticket prices have dropped enough for reconsideration again but this time obtaining affordable hotels in Japan for a family of five has been the big hurdle to jump through, and we had to cancel a trip to Osaka when airfares rose before we could even find a room (one hostel only allowed reservations a month prior to arrival).
     Then fares dropped to Narita (Tokyo), but again, finding a room for five was a huge problem. One potential hotel required everything to be done on-line in a three step process: enter all your information to request a room. Wait for an e-mail reply that might take a day or two. Let the hotel know if you're still interested. Wait another day or two for an e-mail offering the room, which must be then reserved using a credit card. Wait a day or two for a confirmation that the room is reserved. By the time I reached step two, air fares had already risen too high, and I had to cancel our request. A month later airfares dropped and I requested the identical room, but then before I received a reply, airfares rose again for those dates, but remain low enough for slightly different dates, so I had to request those different dates with the hotel instead. Since then we got those dates, I reserved it via my credit card, got the confirmation of the reservation, and then when I was about to book the airfares, they'd gone up by a bunch, so we had to cancel those plans again—so complicated!
     Airlines and travel agents (who uses them anymore? I can't even find a telephone listing for the major airlines in the yellow pages...) used give courtesy holds of tickets for three business days—very reasonable. I only later realized on one airlines' website that ticket prices could be held for three days at fifty dollars or seven days at sixty-five dollars. Airlines are turning record profits due to rock bottom fuel prices and they want to gouge us more?
     And what's with these casino/stock-market type airfares postings? It's like gambling when's the best time to buy, on a day-to-day or even hour-to-hour basis. (Reminds me of futures investments in commodities—betting on the future price of oil, gold, or pork-bellies, etc.—very high risk.)
     Oh well, we can always choose not to go, which is what we've done for quite a long while. But then again, if we wait too long, we might not get to go at all.
     I felt it desirable to go now as Braden is sixteen and still willing to hang out with us. By next year, I'm not so sure, and by the time he's eighteen, he'll be too busy, if not away at school, military training, or working, so I don't expect that. The Japan trip may or may not happen. If not, an around-the-island tour with stays at the gold coast and Turtle Bay or Ihilani may be relaxing and fun—it's been over a decade since we made the north shore circuit. It's not worth fighting the ticketing/hotel reservation system or getting exasperated about, it's just tons of money we could better spend on more productive things anyway...

Noisy Gutter and Refrigerator

     When we first moved into our current rental unit, the one complaint we had of a neighbor was that he had a loose or improperly installed rain gutter that vibrated with a loud rattling groan every time high winds blew. This neighbor has been very considerate in every other way—friendly, generous—so we never said anything, assuming he just never got around to it or perhaps didn't realize it was buzzing because he lived in a back house whereas the front house with the noisy gutter was a rental unit, often unoccupied.
     But after six years, Deanne and I had had enough. It wasn't that he couldn't afford to have it fixed as he was constantly making additions and improvements to his property, including paint jobs, new awning and window frames, and roof repairs. So one morning when I awoke after an especially noisy night (this had been going on for several days straight due to high winds), I called 9-1-1, explained that it wasn't an emergency, and after describing the problem, asked to tell the officer to see the owner in the back house because the front house had only tenants, and also, no, I didn't want to talk to the officer. The dispatcher said she'd send someone over—no name or phone number at my request.
     About a half-hour later as I was preparing for work and it was still dark, I heard the sound of footsteps, police radio-band chat, and an authoritative-sounding female talking just outside our unit to a tenant next door. The rain gutter was still buzzing away, so I was glad that the officer must be able to empathize with what we lived through for so long.  Heavy footsteps then retreated toward the street along with the police radio-band chat. I was concerned that the officer hadn't talked to the landlord and if and when the tenant told the landlord of the officer's message, he might disregard it.
     Two days later, Deanne said she heard banging on the roof of the front house next door that afternoon and asked Pene to take a look and she said workers were doing something to the rain gutter.
     Two days later the winds picked up and silence—no rain gutter rattle! It's easy to take such blessed silence for granted, but whenever the winds pick up now and the only sounds I hear are natural whooshing, it is a relief, and I'm glad I did what I finally did.
     Speaking of which, our landlord replaced our refrigerator when the last one we had since moving in broke for the second time due to a power surge that also knocked out our stereo receiver, TV, and washing machine. We replaced the former two on our own because they were so old, and the landlord replaced the latter with an upgrade. The refrigerator replacement was equivalent, but we soon discovered every time we opened or closed its door, it squeaked and creaked—very annoying after a time—and could be heard clear across the house from our bedroom. I tried lubricating the hinges but that didn't work. Then I realized the squeaks came not from the hinges but from the right front wheel—one of four upon which the appliance stood or rode when pulled out of or pushed into its slot between the kitchen cabinets and wall. In essence, the weight shifts from opening and closing the door caused the wheel to squeak, as I was able to replicate the sound by shaking the refrigerator with the door closed. So I lubricated that wheel, trying to spray the oil up by where the axle is, but that didn't work well either.
     Weeks later (okay, I'm slow), I realized if I could just jack up the frame with a wood block near the offending wheel, then it would no longer rest on the floor and that should solve the problem. I got a shim-like wood wedge out of Jaren's toy box and shoved and pounded it in right beside the offending wheel. That helped a lot, but not quite. I got another wood shim and pounded that behind the same wheel. Perfect silence from that wheel ever after! Now, no more noisy refrigerator or rain gutter. Hallelujah!

Light Pollution

     We have considerate neighbors—as a rule. They're quiet with no blaring TVs or stereos, or noisy cars, etc. and they generally keep their conversations at moderate levels. But one area where they're deficient is in their use of outdoor lights at night.
     Ample studies suggest that a good night's rest depends in part on quality of darkness, in general the darker the better. Our neighborhood was dark when we first moved in about six years ago. We had to stumble around when we awoke in the middle of nights to use the restroom. Then one house after another added or turned on outdoor lights, whether in the garage, porch, or driveway—I take it for security reasons because rumors spread of nearby break-ins and a book I read long ago said that if you don't mind the cost of electricity, keep outdoor floodlights on all night because that deters potential prowlers who don't want to be seen.
     I understand the concern of owners not wanting their cars or unsecured outdoor belongings stolen or even possible break-ins at night. But they should be considerate about it. They shouldn't use omnidirectional lights that shine in all directions or unidirectional floodlamps directed outward from their premises and leave it to neighbors to somehow block light from their bedrooms at night the best they can because realistically, it's impossible to do a thorough job of it without also blocking out ventilation. For whatever allows fresh air in also allows light to seep in, through, or around curtains, blinds, or even black-out drapes (like those found in hotels). And no one should be forced to suffer stuffy rooms (in essence rooms with boarded up windows) to create a nice lightless bedroom environment. (For the simplest demonstration of how difficult it is to seal out light, turn on the overhead light in a room. Step outside the house at night and if the room is not utterly dark, then light from the outside can just as easily seep in.)
     For security-conscious owners, the solution's simple: use motion detectors that turn on lights only when someone approaches and turns off automatically in a couple minutes or so. My landlord has one of these floodlamps right outside our bedroom. It has worked perfectly and the light has never been a problem for us, only triggering inappropriately on rare occasion due to a lizard or large insect on or by the sensor or high winds that cause it to vibrate.
     Or, shield all omnidirectional lights from casting direct light toward neighbors' premises. A simple sheet of cardboard, tin, or sturdy aluminum would do. I saw this done at a parking garage attached to our old apartment. The garage's pay-booth was located next to a bright hanging light bulb and a 6 inch square piece of cardboard was taped onto the hanging fixture a few inches from the bulb to shield the bulb's light from casting directly into the booth—it must have been bothering at least one of the attendants, its glare was so harsh.
     Or, point all unidirectional lights such as floodlamps directly toward the owner's house/property. This could be done by mounting on poles or a wall at the owner's property line and pointing inward. Many commercial businesses in industrial areas utilize this or similar types of strategic lighting techniques.
     In short, neighbors (or on-premises tenants) shouldn't have to suffer for the apprehensions of owners. It's like the old car alarm syndrome when those things used to go off all-too-often due to sensors set too sensitively that you'd hear them blaring whenever the wind picked up or a truck rumbled by. (Thank God we don't have that problem in our neighborhood.)
     I feel for my kids in particular since their bedrooms are far from dark as there's now a street light on all night on that side of the house. On the plus side, their side gets the best ventilation.  On the minus side, the drapes we put up (just bedsheets and beach towels) just don't seal out the light very well. The drapes they had did a slightly better job, but they got old, torn, and ratty, so we took them down. Since we rent, I don't feel like redoing the drapes on our own, or complain to the landlord who might raise rent even higher next contract year. Of course the kids don't seem to mind, but having grown up in Hilo, I know the beauty of pure darkness and still enjoy it and feel so well rested whenever we go back for visits. Shouldn't anyone who desires such darkness be allowed the option by considerate neighbors?

Realistic Expectations

     Braden, for the first time ever, is considering the possibility of entering the military straight after high school, not just as a last ditch option—praise God! Prior to this, whenever I'd asked him what his hopes or plans were, he always said “Probably college”—meaning a four year university, at which point I'd remind him of the expense and extreme difficulty of graduating unless he studies really, really hard as it is very competitive and demanding and if he thinks high school is hard, think again, college is way, way harder and slacker attitudes don't cut it, and if he thinks we're going to pay all that money for him to fool around and not put his best effort in and not graduate, then he's got to think again. Or something to that effect.
     I wasn't trying to discourage him, really, I was trying to motivate him—to prove that's he's worthy now, by making straight A's, and by putting in hours of study effort every night, meeting with teachers, or whatever it takes to do it, effort that would show he's worthy of attending college despite less than stellar grades and struggles time and again in his chief academic subjects of math, English, science, and history. But it's never, ever sank in sufficiently and he's always put in minimal effort to get by (in my eyes) because whenever I'd ask him what he'd learned or what he'd studied, or asked him follow-up questions, he'd all-too-often struggle to explain himself as if he weren't quite sure. Or when I'd ask him to look up a word he'd mispronounced, he'd fume and vent as if he hated having to do it. And he'd get mediocre grades and not follow-up on them by redoing the work to make sure he'd finally “gotten it.” And on and on and on. 
     I think I have a fairly realistic view of academics and for Braden to thrive in the university environment would take a love of learning and studying and knowing stuff and excelling that he just doesn't possess at this time and with time running out (he's a sophomore), I've made clear time and again that he's got to start now if he's serious about college. But he never has shown such change.
     So it was a blessed relief when I recently asked him and he said, “Maybe the military.” Our family has a history with the military: though my parents and grandparents were excused for medical reasons, uncles and granduncles have served honorably and a few are already interred at Punchbowl National Cemetery. I've told him about the G.I. bill-type benefits that would pay for his college if he served for an agreed number of years.
     But I mentioned his medical condition (a mild genetic disorder) that might (though not very likely) prevent him from passing the physical. What's your backup option, then? I asked.
     He said maybe a trade school such as construction or electrical.
     I said that's viable—you could go to a two-year community college for that, though construction is very hard, physical work (and dangerous—a wall could fall on you, you could fall off a ladder or ledge, you could step on a nail) and guys who get into it love working out and tend to be competitive and don't like slacker coworkers or those unable to keep up and I don't see those traits in you (as he hates to exercise, never does workouts on his own, and when forced to, only does the minimum at that.) But I did say, You could be an honest handyman or other skilled worker and make a good living that way as those are always in demand.
     What about cooking? I later asked. 
     “I haven't ruled it out,” he said.
     I said that if you're interested in it, the route is not directly to KCC's (Kapiolani Community College's) prestigious culinary school that is super-competitive, but going straight to work in a kitchen. Learn there for two, three, or four years everything about the job—it's hard, stressful work, hot, uncomfortable, and demanding. Some people, after they get a degree, work in a commercial kitchen and discover they hate it, then switch careers to something else. Find out first if you like that pressure-cooker environment and if you do, after a few years, then enter culinary school. By then you should have ideas of how to make things better—that's what a chef does, creates new things.
     Later it occurred to me that perhaps more practical and likely is his doing what my mom did all her working life and what so many of my coworkers in the state do: administrative clerical work. I explained to him that a two year degree at a community college would prepare him and he'd work with mostly women and just do what he's told. The pay isn't great but he could work his way up as certain did in my state department and are now division heads. 
     So he's no longer just thinking about entering a four-year college straight out of high school. I told him this wouldn't preclude such a degree. Even if you don't go the military route, you could save and finance college on your own after you start working. People who pay their own ways through college take studying very, very seriously, knowing how expensive it is and how long it takes to save enough money. They don't take their educations for granted.
     I don't mind investing in his future. I just can't stand the thought of flushing money down the drain on slacker play-around attitudes. Especially not at the out-of-this world college tuition and room and boards rates these days. (They were cheap during my college days by comparison!)

Breaking Strongholds

     Braden doesn't have many friends. I'm not sure if he has any because he never talks of any, never gets together with any, never receives calls from or makes calls to any, and says he eats lunch alone at school. And he's lived this way since about middle school. It's been a long-running concern for us, so we've provided opportunities for him—grand opportunities—to make friends through church, scouting, and of course public school classes and activities. It's sort of a lead-the-horse-to-water thing: we can provide him opportunities but it's up to him what he does with them.
     Deanne and I aren't social butterflies, as our social lives are already full with work, family, and church activities. So our kids don't have the best examples of adult-to-adult friendship socializing, though we do have friends over on rare occasion.
     Regardless of how much I stress the importance of having friends is, I suspect that Braden somewhere along the line decided that friends aren't worth it and has contented himself to limiting his social life to just us. He even fell away from scouting for awhile. Meanwhile church activities are limited to adult-led and organized activities: no real friend or friends to just hang out with and talk to about whatever.
     This is a huge change from when I grew up and neighborhood friends were almost always around and available to hang out and play with (mostly sports, but also to do kid activities like catch crayfish, shoot bb gun, explore the woods, climb trees, bike ride, etc.) from after school (I'd rush through my homework) until sundown and dinner time, making for some happy childhood memories.
     It's not as if Braden's unfriendable due to “lack of social skills”—I always hated that description because it's applied so inaptly all too often, in that skillfulness (whatever that means) does not lead to friendships, mutual caring, concern, time, and companionship do, skills be damned. And some of the least socially skilled persons around (those overly shy or who struggle with speech impediments, say, or those who miss social cues) sometimes develop the closest bonds imaginable. And Braden has none of those challenges, he speaks in turn, exercises manners within the normal range, and acts pretty much like others his age. He strikes me, then, as one who has been burned once too often, and thus doesn't think it's worthwhile to pursue friendships, because he's happy enough without, perhaps counting family as his closest and only friends (which isn't so awful when you think about it).
      But he's been spending way too much time in his room reading and listening to radio and resenting going out for exercise (doing not much real exercise when he goes out anyway), which builds up resentments against us when he doesn't get his way because he doesn't have a friend to vent and share his frustrations with.
     So I insisted that he check out Christian Club at school. It took a few tries but he finally did, and dropped in during lunch recesses at group gatherings. Unfortunately, it's been lecture-based, so he hasn't formed any friends yet, but at least that beats being alone all the time.
     Then I insisted he do something else like check out the scout troop that meets at our church (versus the one that he was at that met at his former elementary school). He went to a couple of get-togethers and liked them well enough to want to join. Here's where the stronghold comes in. He still hasn't earned a single merit badge, this after over four years as a scout. By comparison, after four years I had earned over a dozen merit badges—they're fun, educational, and challenging—a big part of character and leadership development, health, fitness, and skillfulness. I've been encouraging him for years to pursue them but he's always showed indifference. I've let him go. No longer. I insisted that if he wants to switch to this new troop, that he now take scouting serious and earn his first badge.
     We have over twenty merit badge pamphlets out in the garage from which to choose (a hand-me-down gift from my cousin's son). Braden made lame excuses one after another why he couldn't. I knew something was wrong at that point—a spiritual stronghold or mental block not of God.
     I offered to pray for him to get past this, insisting that he could do it, or if he feared initiating social contact (with the Scout Master to earn the merit badge), that he could overcome it, that I knew he could do anything, that God knew he could do anything, and that it was only he that didn't believe he could.
     I said are we in agreement?
     He said I don't have a choice.
     I said that's right. Just like the $60 model boat you begged us to buy using Grandma's gift money that you didn't built for over a year that I had to force you to build. You built it. And you are going to earn a merit badge. Any one. Your choice.
     It took way more push than I would have preferred, but he finally did it—got going on reading the pamphlet and doing the research, performing a phone interview, and is ready to attend a public meeting and volunteer for community service and meet with his new Scout Master.
     A Christian counselor once said that the teen years are ones of striving between child fighting for independence and parent struggling to maintain control over the child's development and safety and that this push/pull conflict cannot be avoided, which makes those years so challenging. Praise God Braden finally came to—it's for his own good, like it or not. He's better for having built and finished the boat. He'll be better off for having earned his first merit badge, too. God willing.

Canceled Trip—Praise God!

      Last month I was pleased to find low airfares to Japan and planned a possible family vacation in Osaka—if I could find reasonable accommodations. All the hotels and hostels I called or tried to reserve on-line, though, were either fully booked or allowed reservations at most three months (or even one month) prior to check-in.

     In the interim, I planned a tentative itinerary that included the Osaka Aquarium, Kids Plaza Osaka, Aizen (Cultural) Festival Hoe Palanquin Parade, Nara Deer Park, Minoo Park, Floating Garden (sunset view from top of building), Kuromon Ichiban (food bazaar), plus perhaps visits to a castle and a temple. It was going to be a full trip on a reasonable budget with lots of walking around, some catching of rail and limousine bus, food and grocery shopping for in-room cooking, and perhaps meeting up with distant relatives (my dad's cousin's kids and their children). It would certainly have been a memorable trip, if a bit stressful and expensive.

     But with the delays in securing accommodations, airfares rose as I had anticipated and feared they might. But there was no way I would have booked flights earlier at the low fares without a reserved room and risk a nightmare scenario where we'd later have to book any room (or rooms) we could get at any price (which could easily rise to $500+/night—youch!)  Available airfares had risen from a reasonable $640/person round-trip to over a $1000/person—too much for our limited budget and not worth it for a short one-week stay (and we still don't have accommodations).

     Funny thing though, I'm not very disappointed, I'm more so relieved. No more stress of planning train rides, walking tours, meals, itineraries, and figuring out how to keep everyone happy. No more fear of the unknown: getting lost, getting ill, losing things, having bad experiences (it happens on all trips, it seems), having flight or hotel difficulties, jet lag, trouble sleeping, or digestion problems, etc. Are such complicated trips really worth all the expense and stress, I sometimes wonder? (They have been worth it in the past, but that's no guarantee of future success.)

     Over a decade ago, I had a preliminary notion of taking our family of four on a mission trip to Africa. I imagined our kids (ages five and two at the time) wrapping some of their simple toys (large Lego pieces, a stuffed animal, etc.—whatever they wanted) to share with orphans they'd meet. It turned out our kids were too young for the “working trip” so it got canceled. Nonetheless, I shared with my friend Norm that it was as if I really had taken the trip (the visions I had had of the kids giving away their presents wrapped in their home-made wrapping paper were so vivid!) He mocked me for it. My relief for having been spared the half-way-'round-the-world plane rides with multiple stop-overs and connections, twelve hours of jet lag, sparse accommodations, and risks of malaria and who knew what else? made me feel even more content—the sense that I had experienced much of the benefits of the trip without the costs.

     An article I recently read vindicated my feelings. It said that those who planned vacation trips and didn't end up taking them were happier than those that took theirs and those that didn't plan a trip at all.

     I shared with Pene a couple weeks back about this research finding and wondered would it work to plan a trip knowing you weren't going to go? Would you still be happier for it than those in the other two groups? (I doubted it, because the relief wouldn't be real.)

     But I did say that other studies showed that imagined vacations throughout one's workday, say, can help reduce stress as if you really did go. Imagine sipping sodas before a sunset on a beach in the Bahamas. Ahhh. Such daydreams in times of stress can be good and healthy.

     Although I'm relieved in a way that the trip didn't work out, that doesn't mean I've given up hope of a summer trip somewhere. Last I checked, airfares to Narita (just north of Tokyo) were quite reasonable. Perhaps a chance for us to revisit Japan Disneyland with our relatives? It all depends on the accommodations. Back to square one...

Candy Store Keys

     Without our realizing it, Jaren has likely been for years abusing his keys to the candy store of the D.O.E's creation.
     The state Department of Education (D.O.E.) in response to federal mandates, I guess, has for years required all parents to deposit monies into a child's lunch money on-line account, which parents do not have access to to monitor proper deposits or expenditures by their child or to insure no thefts have occurred. Parents must therefore request receipts for deposits and calculate the account's depletion rate over time by multiplying school days between replenishments of funds by cost per lunch.
     According to Deanne's and Braden's calculations, the balances have been proper for Braden and Pene who have to deposit cash—no checks allowed. Since Jared's school accepts checks, we never bothered to recalculate for accuracy.
     Big mistake. Last Friday, Pene approached Deanne and said, “When I picked up Jaren at school, a lady I never saw before approached me and said, 'Hi, I'm the school lunch monitor; I know your mom. Does she know Jaren's been eating second breakfasts and that's why his lunch monies keep running out so fast?'”
     We asked Jaren about it and he admitted he “took a few breakfasts and once or twice took second breakfasts and that was all.”
     Deanne attempted to compute the approximate misuse of funds and came up with several dollars worth missing, but without remembering actual balances reported to her (via a note in Jaren's binder when his account runs low), I knew it was largely guesswork. Nonetheless, I made Jaren pay us sixteen dollars plus gave him time-out all weekend and told Deanne to request the school to print-out all expenditures from Jaren's account by day and amount over the past year.
     On Monday, she got the list I requested that showed over fifty dollars of expenditures on breakfasts dated from when Deanne started working full-time late last year and second breakfasts, juice, and milk (most certainly chocolate—he has a sweet tooth) dated back to the beginning of the year, all of which he knew he was not supposed to purchase, which he kept secret, then lied about after we asked. I told Deanne this has probably been going on for years.
     So I had Jaren empty his wallet, which came out to approximately fifty dollars, plus gave him time-out the remainder of the month, plus took away some toys when he immediately disobeyed my order not to play.
     I then told Deanne to request the school to allow Jaren to purchase only lunches and nothing else.
     The school in response said that the system won't allow blanket blocks (comparable to parental computer controls over PC's) but they'll notify the lunch monitor to restrict Jaren's purchases according to our wishes. She also said we weren't the first to request this.
     What's disturbing about the D.O.E.'s role in this was that it was all avoidable and it took a nice, caring, conscientious lunch monitor to notify our daughter of Jaren's ongoing thievery. We should also have been notified immediately when it occurred years ago and initially been given the option to restrict purchases to lunches only, I believe.
     Not to get alarmist, but white-collar criminals start exactly this way. Steal a little once. See what happens. Nothing? Try again, this time a little more. Still okay? Get greedier and greedier and greedier. I'll never get caught, the perpetrator thinks.
     It's like tempting kids then teaching them the wrong ethical lesson when they succumb to temptation: steal from then lie to your parents.
     This anything-goes lunch-money account use by kids also can't be helping our nation's explosive obesity epidemic. If you're bored, eat! Why play outdoors, eat instead! it seems to suggest. And it's sad to think how many kids never get caught and carry out such thievery beyond elementary, middle, and high schools to clubs, workplace, or anywhere else they have easy, unaccountable access to money.

Auntie Julie's Silent Suffering

     Please read my relevant letter published at the following link: http://www.metrohnl.com/dear-auntie-julie/.  It's a letter to my Auntie Julie that mentions our missing her at her eldest sister's (my Auntie Bea's) funeral and my well wishes for her speedy recovery from a hip injury and other ailments.
     My main purpose for writing was the same as my final visit to Maui Grandpa (my Dad's dad) just before he succumbed to stomach cancer: to say Thank you and Goodbye. I'm not certain about Auntie Julie's health—just what I've been told—but she's obviously and justifiably been suffering since the recent death of her beloved husband (my Uncle Tani). Not accepting visitors or phone calls (or letters, I assume) from anyone and not attending her sister's funeral (all the Aunties are close) were highly unexpected for such a social, lively lady and because she was utterly charming, warm, and gracious as usual at Uncle Tani's funeral. When I later learned of her “I just want to join him” comment and her weight loss (she was already slight of build), it concerned me even more so that I eventually felt compelled to do something...just in case.
     So after my letter's publication (some stuff got edited out), I sent a copy of the published and original versions to her eldest son and wife (and kids) for them to decide whether or not to share either or both with her. I suspect they will offer them but that she'll decline. Which is okay. At least I tried while still respecting her wishes. I also know in my heart that she knows my thoughts and feelings toward her, so full of love and appreciation.
     It's been tough seeing elders from “The Greatest Generation” go. That's an apt description as they really were and are great, such that I doubt we'll measure up (ours will probably be referred to as The Good Enough or Okay or So-so Generation by comparison). And I really don't want to see her go. And I'd love to see and visit her, preferably with my family, but alone if necessary, to try to comfort her and make her smile and feel glad to be alive and to hear her voice and stories or whatever she desires. I miss such talking and socializing with her and my other elders, we so rarely get together these days except for sad occasions.
     I've found this to be one of the most difficult trials of aging—seeing my elders suffer, deteriorate, and go. It's true what they say about honoring and enjoying them while they are still hale and present. Though most were in their eighties when they went, it still seemed far too soon.

Dad's Bedtime Prayer

     A few years ago Dad had trouble sleeping—this from a man who throughout his adult life as far back as I can remember slept every night at ten-thirty after watching the local evening news and awoke every morning at six-thirty (a bit later on Saturdays when he didn't have golf and Sundays). His schedule was so steady and his self discipline in hygiene, work, recreation, household and yard chores, and all matters public so predictable and sound, it gave him a “rock-solid steady” reputation, as my childhood friend's father once described him to my naive surprise.
     So when he had trouble sleeping nights for weeks then months, he got quite distressed and sought help from doctors and various sleeping pills, all to little or no avail.
     He talked about his insomnia constantly to the eventual chagrin of relatives as it was apparent he had enough sleep—he dozed while watching TV throughout the day and what did he need more sleep for anyway, it's not like he was working or had important appointments to attend to? He just likely missed his comfortable and predictable bedtime sleep routine and lacked something to get excited about to fill the hours each day instead of fretting over whether he'd get a good sleep that night.
     I'd witnessed to him about my faith, which he received tepidly at best, implying it was fine for me and my family but not him. But I saw a tiny door open in his recent distresses and wrote him a letter sharing among other things a bedtime prayer he could recite aloud that might help and certainly wouldn't hurt. I don't remember the precise contents of the prayer but it was rather lengthy and a part of me hoped he wouldn't call to discuss it (as was his habit after receiving a letter from me) because in a roundabout way his response was always “Thank you; not interested”, which I always found disappointing.
     But surprise surprise, about a month later mom called to say that Dad prayed my prayer a couple weeks and quit but she told him to continue it, it's good for you. it's a good thing to do. So he did every night thereafter.
     Dad came on the line afterwards and confirmed that he did recite it and it helped him relax.
     I was grateful that he had finally received Christ as his Lord and Savior, as it's tough to recite such things without meaning them.
     Twice or thrice since, Dad reiterated gratitude for the prayer and said he recited it every night.
     But I had my doubts. Never had I seen him pray aloud. He had stated many times his lack of belief in any spiritual being. Was he really reading it aloud every night? Or was he just saying that to please me? He never lied, yet it seemed equally out of character for him to pray.
     When we were back in Hilo during New Years, the day of our departure Dad asked for a moment with me. (I dread these meetings; he sometimes uses them to scold me. Though it's always mild and reasonable, it's still tense.) In the living room while we sat, he discussed his and Mom's wishes upon their passings. Regarding the ceremonies, he asked when both their ashes were lowered into the plot beside Grandma's and Grandpa's (his parents) would I recite for him his bedtime prayer that I had given him for the last time?—very touching for a man who is quite unemotional.
     I told him sure, but I can't remember what I wrote. Can you write it out for me?
     He said it doesn't have to be exact, I'm sure you can get the gist of it.
     I said it's been so long, I just wrote whatever came to the top of my head. Please write it out and mail it to me anytime.
     He recited it in its entirety on the spot to my delight and surprise. I said it sounds good, please write it so I won't forget.
     He said he would and a note in his handwriting appeared on my desk later that morning. Here is its contents:

Lord Jesus, please hear my prayer. I recognize that I am a sinner and need you as my savior. Please forgive me my sins as only you can. I want to have the peace, calm, and rest that you can offer. Guide me in your ways, now and always. Amen.

     It's obvious to me that he took out (or forgot?) some of what I had written, but that's great because by doing so, he made it his prayer, not mine.

     I know now, when it's time for me to recite it for him, it's going to be rough going, as I can get very emotional at such times.  But it's the least I can do after all he's done for me throughout my life.

Dengue Risk

     We just got back from a trip to Hilo for New Year's. At first Dad said when we planned the trip midyear, “Maximum stay at our house—four days. Rent a car and stay at a hotel for the remainder.” (They're getting old and our kids get noisy. Mostly, he was concerned about Mom working too hard making meals, cleaning, going on outings, and staying up late. Since he depends on her a lot due to a medical condition, his concern is legitimate.) That was before the dengue fever outbreak starting in September that now numbers greater than two hundred, most cases having originated in the Kona region, where we had planned to spend time at. But as our trip approached and the dengue cases rose, then dropped, then leveled off at a steady seven or so new cases per week, we canceled all plans to drive outside Hilo, which had possibly only a handful of cases that had originated there.

     When Mom and Dad came over for Thanksgiving and Mom heard of our revised plan to stay two nights in a Hilo hotel that happened to be in a “some risk” zone (downgraded earlier from a “moderate risk” zone), she said we could stay at their house (in the no known cases zone) all the time and use their car. I said make sure to clear it with Dad first, which she later did, so we canceled our hotel and rental car reservations.

     Having read up about how to avoid dengue, we all brought along and wore long sleeve shirts and pants, shoes, and insect repellent on face, neck, and exposed wrist/back of hands. Yet when we arrived at the airport, which was in the “some risk” zone in the early hours of the morning when the dengue carrying mosquitoes are most active (as well as early evenings), I was astounded to see the apparent lax attitude of so many tourists and locals alike—some in shorts and t-shirts, and none of whom we saw apply skin protection before deplaning as we had.

     Our trips to the mall and drives through downtown (mostly only indoor activities on this trip) revealed a general laxity by large percentages of the population—even a bikini clad little girl of about age six at Ice Pond, across Banyan Golf Course where there must be ample mosquito breeding grounds.

     Sure, the risk was low, and no known deaths have yet been reported, but why take the chance? Also, taking ample precautions is the responsible thing to do to eradicate the virus altogether, for the more people that catch it, the longer it will likely linger and the further it will likely spread—which was probably how it came to Hawaii in an an infected individual in the first place.

     Back in 2002, a church friend said he was really sick for awhile and someone said I hope it wasn't dengue (because of an outbreak in Maui and small parts of Oahu at the time.)

     He said, “No, but I wish it was.”
     “You wanted dengue?” she asked.

     “Yeah, I really wanted it.” 

     “Why?” I asked, wondering if he was serious.

     “I don't know. I just know I really wanted it,” he said, nodding conviction.

     My friend Norm in Seattle said it's called “bone-break fever” because it makes you feel like every bone in your body is broken. His ex-patriot friends in Guatemala have caught it multiple times and from what I've read, later episodes can be far more severe.

     Our friend from church that said he wanted it is a bit of a character. I didn't doubt his sincerity but wondered at his sanity. Who'd crave something as awful as dengue? I can only assume he had no idea or wanted some macho bragging rights.

     I hope no one looked at us in Hilo and thought we were selfish with a “better you get bitten than I” attitude. I wouldn't want anyone to get bitten or infected and I hope the outbreak gets eliminated once and for all, sooner rather than later. But judging from what we saw, I have my doubts. Unless these things naturally go in cycles or self-eradicate in non-indigenous regions, it may be here for a long, long time. The state is doing its part (according to federal officials); locals and travelers must do their parts, too.  Please help stop the spread.

Hilo Serenaders

An award for most persistent and faithful wooer must go to the coqui.  The male frog spends all night calling out in loud, body-racking heaves to woo a female to come and mate.  And he does this every night of his adult life.
  Everyone who's spent a night in Hilo recently knows the ear-piercing racket these introduced pests from Puerto Rico make when one desperate serenader is multiplied by a dozen, a hundred, or a thousand--they get loud!  Many blame Walmart for importing them along with plants from the frog's native home land or the mayor/government officials who were slow to respond to the ever-growing environmental disaster, even worse than the introduced mongoose from plantation days.  But my purpose here is to look at things for once from the pathetic frog's perspective via anthropomorphization--thinking of them as if they were human...
  If I'd had to woo virginal Deanne with cries of affection (combined with threatening cries toward nearby rival males) every few seconds for hours on end, night after night, for years on end, would I have done it or succeeded?  No, I may have lasted a night or two, then become too lazy, tired, or disgusted at the lack of success and continued being a lonely (or content?) bachelor to this day.
  One observation from a recent trip back to Hilo, on New Year's day, I awoke at around two o'clock a.m. to virtual silence from the constant coqui racket, a silence that had no particular reason attached.  On prior nights, I awoke to greatly diminished rackets, but never one so complete.  What caused it?  The fireworks?  The weather?  There appeared no set pattern for either.  My current assumption?  The males had all found mates. But that raised the question, did these serenaders from evenings past all go without?  Were the females so super-finicky and hard-to-get and hard to please that they suffered these persistent cries unmoved or indifferent or with out-right turned-off disdain?  Or were the serenaders greedy can't-get-enough lotharios that upon conquering one female went right on back to their persistent calling, ever anxious to woo their next conquest?  Or were females possibly nympho sluts that in response to their lothario counterparts ever hopped from male to male as each cried for more, sexual appetites insatiable?
  This is where anthropomorphism can get disturbing and outright fallacious as animals are driven by an entirely different set of instinctive forces than humans who are guided by thought, reason, and emotion as well as instincts.  Nonetheless it's amusing to consider when bombarded by these calls unceasing hour after hour, night after night--it makes them a little more tolerable to have a sense of humor about them.
  Two nights later, the same eerie quietness occurred except for a lone distant caller from afar.  Perhaps most nearby males were getting older and more lethargic, voluntarily celibate through some nights?  Or settled down with pregnant mates, sated during later hours?  (I did do some research that suggested that males are good fathers, staying with the nest to guard against predators.)  Maybe as far as anthropomorphized animals go, coquis aren't so bad.  Certainly not as disturbing as praying mantises, say, whose males pay the price of coupling first with their heads, then their lives, and females die shortly after the act and laying a clutch of eggs.  (But I have an affinity toward praying mantises, they do so much good and look so cute, as far as insects go.  I had a pair that I kept as pets in a box that went through the entire later life cycle.  Yes, it was disturbing when I found them one on top of the other and when I tried to pull them apart, found they were attached at their bases!  And later after watching TV to try to erase the image, found a dead one on the floor, the legs and wings of another, and a clutch of eggs in the crook of a branch.  I unfortunately did not get to see the eggs hatch out as a jealous older neighborhood friend took the box and promised to call when they hatched out but never did.  His praying mantises had died, refusing to eat.  I guess some mantises, like humans, don't like being held captive either.  Now, hunger-striking insects, that's profound!)

Portuguese Bean Soup

  For Christmas Eve dinner, Braden and I cooked up the local favorite:  Portuguese bean soup.  In recent years past, we've been having just such soup for Christmas Eve dinner at my sister Joan's, but this year Mom and Dad decided to spend Christmas at home in Hilo, my brother Grant and his son went over to join them, and we got to celebrate a nice, quiet at-home dinner with the five of us.
  Braden was a huge help since there was lots to be done after I got home shortly before lunch.  Deanne left the recipe on the counter for us to follow (if we felt brave enough to do it ourselves that afternoon), so starting from three o'clock, I boiled the water and speed-defrosted the two smoked turkey legs in the microwave and added the latter to the former along with dried red beans that Braden had soaked for a day-and-a-half.
     While those came to a boil, Braden diced an onion, garlic, celery, and carrots.  After the beans softened in a half-hour, I reduced the heat to a steady simmer.  Fifteen minutes later, I stripped the meat from the bones and Braden added the canned tomatoes and chopped vegetables.  While waiting for the now cooled mixture to simmer after we'd raised the heat, I speed defrosted a Portuguese sausage, then Braden sliced it up and browned it in a pan, I absorbed the oil in a paper towel, and he added it to the pot.  By four o'clock, the turkey meat was tender, and the vegetables were just crunchy, so I turned off the heat and let everything sit, still cooking in the residual heat.  By five o'clock, everything was ready and perfect.
  The reason I raise this is Braden and I have had our head-butt moments, times when we didn't like each other, times when he questioned my authority (in actions, never words), and times when I questioned his competence and capabilities (to myself, mostly, rarely to him).  So it's nice to find something that we can do together cordially and with him showing excellent competence.
     Cooking for him is not a problem.  He'll never go with lack of good food for want of cooking skills.  Perhaps there's a career there for him.  (I do question his college-worthiness, mostly in attitude and work ethic and persistent confidence and desire, not aptitude or ability, so much.)  And I never felt there was shame in cooking jobs or any other manual labor for that matter.  For awhile I considered switching careers to plumbing since I loved working with my hands (and I'd heard of another accountant who did the same, loved it, and earned more money after the career-switch.)
  God has his own plans for everyone, so there's no point insisting our kids follow our preconceived notions of what they ought to do.  (At my thirtieth class reunion, a spouse of a classmate shared how his dad never forgave him for abandoning his engineering college education that he never wanted in favor of a dry-cleaning business, in which he did quite well.  He mentioned it when I told him of Braden's academic travails and dubious college potential.  It was a perfect true story for me to hear since it was obvious that the man was a fine, upstanding citizen with no reason to feel shame.  It took courage in fact for him to go out on his own (I've always been too chicken to start my own business, I'm so risk averse) and moreso to take that risk against his father's wishes.)
  So necessity shopping and cooking are two things at least that Braden and I can enjoy each others' company doing.  Praise God for that!     

Blessings Big and Small

     Other than when it's my turn to say grace before dinner and bed time prayers with Deanne, I seldom pray aloud. But I did during a recent trip to KMart to return a TV purchased the day before that lacked a remote control and owner's manual (and batteries and packing material, I later discovered). I was not looking forward to waiting in line at Customer Service. Or getting another faulty TV upon exchange. Of being told even then I couldn't get a cash refund since I paid by check. Or having other such unpleasantness arise.
     In truth, I didn't even especially want a TV. Ours—an old 20” Sony Trinitron picture tube type—broke from a power surge that also broke our stereo receiver and our rental unit's refrigerator and washing machine. The latter two the landlord replaced; the reason for the TV purchase was the kids' upcoming winter break when they'll be home alone for over a week—it'll give them an hour or two each day to watch DVDs. (We don't have cable and have no TV reception.)
     Already stressed by the holiday rush, I told Braden I hope and pray it will all go smoothly and we won't have to wait too long at Customer Service or find out no one is there.
     Braden held the TV while we waited two-deep in line at Customer Service. The first in line was returning a twelve pack of Diet Sprites. The cashier kept scanning a coupon and fiddling with the register's keypad, and asked to see the receipt. Then she requested help from a clerk standing nearby who said they had to ask Sally. Five, ten, perhaps fifteen minutes passed. Sally came and told them what to do—the coupon was two-for-one, so they had to refund the twelve pack Pepsi's too, which they did. I was praying silently the while as my ire rose and receded as I battled my all-too-common impatience.
     The next customer wanted a refund to take advantage of a dollar off coupon on a decorative holiday item. Again more coupon scanning, then punching away at a keypad, receipt tie-in, and consultation with the clerk (who stood by observing). The customer said she wanted the item but wanted the refund so she could repurchase it plus four more at the sale price. Aha! A bargain shopper refunding at full price to repurchase at sale price to save an entire dollar! I thought. For ten minutes plus of waiting, she must really need the money...
     Finally, it was our turn and the clerk told us to go straight to Electronics.
     “But my wife called and they said to come here,” I said.
     The cashier said, “Only if you want a refund. Exchanges go straight back there” (with a point toward the back of the store).
     Electronics had one customer ahead of us that took a few minutes. The cashier asked when it was our turn how she could help and upon being told of the missing items asked what we wanted to do.
     I said exchange...unless there's a sale on it from today.
     She said let me check and walked to the bank of TVs displayed. Yes, she said, and reported a price fifteen dollars less than what we'd paid. To get the refund, go back to Customer Service she said, and she initialed our receipt.
     Back we went with TV in hand to wait in a now three-deep line that moved like opihi. Finally a free cashier opened a second register and processed our refund, taking the TV and giving me cash.
     Back at Electronics, I chose a boxed TV from below the display stands and we waited in a one-deep line. The cashier was pleasant and apologized and offered to open the box to ensure its contents were complete, which it was.
     Fifteen dollars for the trip down and time spent waiting? Yeah, it was worth it—I count it a blessing.
     Getting spared from undue stress? I count a huge blessing.
     I told Braden had we not waited in line at Customer Service, I would never have thought to request a refund. Perhaps I wouldn't even have bothered to recheck the price. (The price on the box hadn't changed.)
     I also got to spend time with Braden doing something he does well—keep me calm and grounded in situations I find stressful: anything to do with stores or shopping. We shared a nice enough drive and conversations, me doing most of the talking (since he tends to keep quiet). Not a bad way to spend an afternoon after all. And the TV ended up working fine.

Ergonomics

     Turns out my tired legs feeling (described in my prior Burn Out? essay) was caused largely by an uncomfortable temporary chair at work, not so much burn out or old age. I didn't realize it until they felt painful after a workout and upon sitting on a hard surface and I recalled that all of it started just about when I started sitting on the uncomfortable chair. Subsequently, I added a knit zabuton (Japanese style square cushion) my grandmother gave me ages ago and things improved markedly. I even added a padded zabuton from Mom to my wood dining room chair at home and now my workout runs are lengthening and without so much discomfort afterwards. They're still not back to where they were before, but at least they're headed that way. Nonetheless, the rest did me good—overall I feel lots better.
     A year ago I got tennis elbow on my right forearm related to trying to beef up my always slight build using dumbbells. My right-hand dominance had something to do with it because my left forearm was fine, even though I was doing the exact same exercises with it. I soon noticed that using poor writing technique (inadequate or no wrist support) aggravated the pain and that it helped when I held the pencil looser and took breaks from the computer. For awhile it was so bad I was doing everything I could left-handed. It slowed things a lot when I was on the keyboard, but fortunately, I had no tight deadlines for a span.
     After that, my right shoulder got bursitis, so that lifting it high, crossing it over to my left, or stretching to scratch my back or remove a shirt caused pain and stiffness. I couldn't even throw a ball or swing a racket without worsening it. Ice, rest, and later, stretching and strengthening exercises helped, but it's still not one hundred percent. I think it was lingering effects of the tennis elbow and leaning heavy on my forearms while reading crouched beside my bed while doing quiet time (bible reading)—a practice which I've since stopped.
     Medical essays stated that it's common for those in their 50's or older to get these types of injuries from weight lifting or using improper technique. No surprise then that I did all these same things when I was younger and nothing unpleasant resulted, certainly no injuries that took months to heal.
     Just an unpleasant fact, then, that as I age, I'll have to be more and more vigilant about what I do and how I do it lest I end up getting some new injury doing something that never bothered me before.
     Which is why Braden always comes with me on Costco runs to do all the heavy lifting, although I insist that we handle the fifty pound sack of rice together, one on each side, two hands lift on the count of three.
     I always used to wonder why Mom used to get frustrated by the inability to do things she always used to; now I see myself in her shoes and understand. It's easy for the young and healthy to take things for granted—Braden thinks it's ridiculous of me to fret about his lifting technique—too bad we on the other side have no such luxury. On the upside, perhaps we elders have a bit more wisdom?

Common Core Standards (or More of the Same)

     The jury is in:  Common Core Standards is NCLB Part II, meaning schools continue to teach to the standardized tests to the detriment of students' health, creativity, independent thinking, leadership and team development, societal values, socialization, artistry, and chief of all, schools' reason for being: love of learning.  For I don't know a single child who loves this Phd developed teach-to-the-test curricula that focuses to an obscene degree on grilling students on test taking techniques via test after test after test of sample questions that are disguised as homework.
     I don't know of any credible teacher that loves this shove-it-down-their-throats mandates.
     I can't imagine any good, caring, loving, thoughtful parent that would love doing it themselves.
     Here are some of the evidence of this misfocus, forced by politicians in Washington D.C. who are making captive schools who want big grant dollars (bribes)--nearly everyone--to their fixed, know-it-all agendas:

• None of my kids have regular P.E.  Our nation is in the midst of an obesity and sedentary lifestyle health-related epidemic--even among growing numbers of youth--and more and more schools are choosing to reduce or cut P.E. to try to make arbitrary test cut-off scores.
• Same's true with art, though ample evidence suggests that students who take art tend to do better in academics.  (There appears to be a link between creativity and analytical problem solving.)
• I ask my kids everyday, "What did you learn in school today?" and they so often draw blanks because they spend class time reviewing (getting drilled on) test taking techniques or taking quizzes and tests.  Most nefarious is "computer time" during which they mostly take sample standardized tests.  This should be banned during normal school hours as it's just a form of lazy "teaching."  In essence, it's T.V. with an academic sheen:  Kids hunt for answers (in text, say) and forget all the content.  Getting the correct answer is all that matters, learning is secondary (or inconsequential).
• The school topics my kids get excited about are largely non-academic:  politics (Braden), orchestra and teacher jokes and anecdotes (Pene), games and other social contacts (Jaren).  Thank God they have something that engages them in school.  Too bad it's not more often academics.

     The whole notion that a nation of expert standardized test takers will be comprise a better prepared and qualified workforce for international competition is absurd.  How would our nation's greatest leaders and businessmen and scientists even have done on these standardized tests?  Think Washington, Lincoln, Jefferson, Franklin, Ford, Edison, Carnegie, Jobs, Walmart, Gates, King Jr., Whitney, Tesla, Oppenheimer, Patton, Tubman, MacArthur, Souza, Ellington, Gershwin, Lewis, Clark, Armstrong?  I think some would have scored miserably.  I think most would have hated them and thought them ridiculous wastes of time.
     Come on, can't we inject some common sense into our national academic agenda?  Shouldn't making all students life-long lovers of learning be objective number one at all our schools?  For of what benefit is superior test taking skills if a student hates learning and quits after high school or enters college only "to get a better job" while seeking to just get by with as little learning as possible?  Will that make him or her more competitive?  Or our nation stronger if more and more students feel that way?
     In business school, we learned that if you want to improve performance, measure that which you want improved.  Let's come up with better measures of student learning and love of learning than standardized tests.  We can do better and did do better, even when I was a kid and yes, when I loved learning. 

Scheduling

     Praise God Deanne has a full-time job!  She needs to drive to work, which is a half-hour to forty-five minutes commute each way, so we stuck Jaren in A+/Kamaaina Kids (state sponsored before- and after-school day cares at Jaren's school), which lasts for him from about 6:30 each morning, until I or Braden and Pene pick him up after school between 3:00 and 4:15, depending on their school and my work schedules.
     As a test run, I've been having both Braden and Pene meet at Jaren's school to take him home if I haven't already picked him up.  I felt this is an excellent age-appropriate responsibility for them.  (They're ages fifteen and twelve and catch the bus to and from school, which is true on most days).
     Normally, I get home about four o'clock, but I've been taking off an hour early recently via saved vacation that's "use it or lose it" (by year end).  So on days I feel like it, I could pick up Jaren before they do (when they have later school end times).
     But they need to get accustomed to picking him up, walking him home, inspecting from a safe distance the house for possible break-in, unlocking the door, getting in, and relocking the door.  I feel it's much safer if all three are present at the time, than say, just Pene alone, so I've told her to always wait for Braden at Jaren's school and not enter the house alone.
     Deanne could pick Jaren up at 4:40 or so after work.  For now, I feel it's better if Jaren not stay in before- and after-school care too long.  Plus, our kids could all use the additional exercise of walking home from Jaren's school (which amounts to about a quarter-mile).
     I told Deanne and the kids that things will work themselves out in the coming days/weeks/months schedule-wise, and who does what, when.
     Braden said he needs to stay late at school sometimes to study, work on group projects, etc.
     I said maybe on days that I work-out and take off an hour early, he can stay late and I'll pick up Jaren.
     Jaren said, "I want to stay late to play with friends."
     I said, "You'll have plenty of time to play.  I don't want Mom to have to pick you up everyday.  Plus you need to be bathed and ready for dinner by the time she gets home."
     The first day went great.  I picked up Jaren; we got home, showered, and started dinner (using an omelet recipe left by Deanne).  Braden and Pene got home, showered, and started their homeworks, set the table, and served milk.
     I love cooking so it's nice to be back at it again after a fifteen year hiatus when Deanne assumed all cooking responsibilities (she's a super cook and enjoys it so I passed it on to her).
     Best of all, Deanne's income takes a lot of pressure off me.  If we save most of her earnings, we should be able to cover most of Braden's college tuition, should he attend U.H.--a huge relief.  It increases the flexibility of future options too, as far as financial-related retirement, choice of state residency, our kids' college options, housing, etc. decisions are concerned.  And it renews my hopes (mentioned in prior essays) for a bright, interesting, new, and exciting future not too many years hence, God willing!
    
    
    

Burn Out?

     Am I burnt out? I don't know.

     I've been feeling a bit worn out at times over the past couple months but thought it was the usual work-out recovery cycles or less-sleep, more-sleep exchanges I often enough go through.

     But these past two weeks or so, I've been feeling it in my legs. That's unusual, those are usually strong due to decades of daily walking and regular runs, so I take it as a sign of my need to ratchet back. Get some rest. Take some sick leave even, as necessary. (I seldom take a sick day off.)

     I wonder if it may be further evidence of my advancing age. I may have to walk up the two steep, short hills toward the beginning of my three-and-a-half mile run, which I do every third day. But work-outs and recoveries usually go just fine, so I'm not yet convinced. “Run the way I feel” is the old adage I must follow—I try to—rather than force through to make the miles.

     But then again, I've been pushing pretty hard emotionally this past half-year, starting from our church's spring camp, then our public speaking engagement at church service, and outer island mission trip. Then I had to address Braden's academic travails and bad attitudes, and chose to play bass with the worship band. It's all been good, but stressful at times. In the past, dealing with stress has been doable for me—all part of life. But within the past five years or so God's shown me the need to do a better job taking care of myself: I'm responsible for my feelings and I have to do better for the sake of my long-term (and short-term) health at managing my stress levels. I've been trying, but I'm emotional by nature, so it's far from automatic.

     I notice when I push myself (or cruise along at high octane) for too long, I sometimes get sick. I think that's what might have just happened. Pene's out for her second day today with a fever. Though I don't have a fever, I do have other cold-like symptoms (tired legs, bleah feelings, lethargy, occasional stomach aches, deep drowsiness—very unusual for me. I like work and am loathe to miss a day, so to skip, I have to feel pretty awful.)

     I'm glad in a way. I've been praying for God's peace, calm, and rest, and this has helped in the healing/recovery process.  I hope these trials are all just temporary and I'll be back to normal before long. But, if necessary, I'll dial back the intensity of workouts and moderate what I can to avoid/eliminate/reduce avoidable (bad) stress, especially.

     For not all stress is bad and worth avoiding. Some is good and to be appreciated such as a child's wedding, a job promotion, a once-in-a-lifetime vacation trip, etc.

     Oh yeah, Deanne just got offered a full-time job, wonderful news, so she's been arranging for Jaren's before- and after-school care. This is a load off my mind knowing she's building up a strong work history so that when it comes my time to retire, God willing, she'll be able to make up for my pension's lower monthly pay check (especially until social security kicks in). She's almost a decade my junior so she's likely got far more work years in her than I do. Praise God for that!

     I wonder now if I perhaps caught the flu? I every year get a flu shot early, so perhaps I'm experiencing milder symptoms 'cause my body's already built-up an immunity? If so, praise God! (I've had the flu before, sans shot, and it was miserable.)

U.H. Football

     There's a saying I love:  fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.
     With U.H.'s recent firing of football head coach Norm Chow, there's been talk of rehiring June Jones who left in very bad graces (greedy—wanted more money; I guess 1.7 million dollars per year wasn't enough) about eight years ago.
     Why bother?
     At SMU, which he recently left in bad graces for personal reasons, he amassed a lousy 36-43 record. Does U.H. want that?
     Bob Jones in Midweek recommended U.H. switch from the FBS (for big, rich schools) to the FCS (for smaller, budget-conscious schools). He thinks it may not result in cost savings (U.H. Football currently loses money year after year after year) but should result in more wins.
     I say it will likely result in substantial cost savings due to reduced salaries, scholarships, staff, and training, recruitment, maintenance, and other costs. Nix the half-a-million-dollars-plus head coach salary (Norm Chow gets $550,000), duplicate offensive and defense coordinators, line coaches, quarterback coaches, assistant coaches and on and on and on, plus state-of-the art air conditioned luxury training and other facilities 'cause expectations will be scaled back.
     Best of all, the costly distraction that football has become from U.H.'s core academic mission will be largely abated. (Why is a coach among the highest paid U.H. positions? Or state positions? What message does that send our youth? Or other civil service employees who do a lifetime of far more meaningful work for far less?)
     During June Jones' heyday at U.H., one of my most painful family experiences occurred. The team won its bowl game, and in a show of good sportsmanship (and for the second time in about three years) engaged in a full-scale, bench-cleaning, on-field brawl (which later got replayed on national T.V.  Welcome to the Aloha State!) Metal folding chair were flung and one was swung and used to strike at least one player's back...) Mid-brawl, I switched off the T.V. we were watching at my sister's house 'cause there were kids present, at least one whom was getting disturbed. This on Christmas day, by the way.
     At that point the angry ball of energy in the room got redirected towards me—even by some of the most reasonable and even-keeled of family members.
     It was a tough stand to take, but I held. And took the abuse, and kept the T.V. off though many insisted I switch it back on. I suggested we continue the Christmas activity we had started but put off until the game's conclusion.
     Since then, I've been looking forward to the day when U.H. football is no longer a part of the big school conference. (U.H. is a minnow compared the mainland large schools, both in terms of enrollment and dollars. Which is why they can never compete against the best, such as Georgia in the Sugar Bowl (42 Bulldogs, U.H. 10, Notre Dame in the Hawaii Bowl (49-21), or Tulsa in the Hawaii Bowl (62-35). Sure, U.H. has had a few big wins along the way, but these are becoming increasingly rare and ever more distant, almost like faded memories, tarnished by years of black oblivion.)
     In less than three years, Braden will be college age, possibly entering U.H. Student athletic fees (currently fifty dollars per semester) to subsidize oversized football salaries and budgets (18 coaches/coordinators/assistant /trainers, etc. are listed on the website) may by then be doubled or tripled to add hundred of dollars on top of tuition and other fees to his enormous student loans. Unfortunately, such athletic fees are not and will not be optional—all students will have to pay.
     FBS football, optional for the school, is an expensive and huge distraction from academics that drains valuable resources (there's a long list of overdue building repairs and maintenance at Manoa amounting to over $400 million), is demoralizing, and is bound to produce long-term noncompetitive bottom-of-the-heap losers. And is something U.H. and the state should get rid of by season's end at the latest.
     How many more losing seasons and 3.5 million dollar deficits are the school gunning for? It's been eleven deficits years out of the past thirteen as of 2014, sure to be twelve out of fourteen as of 2015. Is the school out to set some sort of loser/deficit records? Is that how it intends to rebuild its fan base and return the program to profitability? U.H., Hawaii's brain trust, needs to think this through clearly and act wisely now. Future generations of students will be thankful for it.