I couldn’t help noticing three noisy but well-restrained card sharks huddled closely, absorbed in a splashdown of discarded jacks and queens. A loving patriarch and his cunning and brave young sons, sprung free from their school routines, were now eagerly plotting their next kills. Just a few days before, further down the coast, an enraged tiger shark,  (the real deal), had nipped an unfortunate swimmer and scooped up national headlines … but these players were far too immersed in their own impending blood bath to worry about sea battles. It was probably about 8AM and my tanksuit was still...

A friend’s text alert from the mainland blared the disastrous news on Friday night as we were quietly awaiting a lecture about our nation’s space plans from none other than NASA’s ebullient administrator, Charles Bolden. Forget about our future vacations to Mars —  this very second, a Category V Tropical Cyclone was on the loose!  And it apparently had signed in with my name!  “Look what you did,” screeched another pal’s email the next day — it seemed like I’d destroyed the Vanuatu Island chain. Pam was all over the news … Cyclone Pam this...

Now if Jon (my former editor at Brandon’s, heavily armed with both Harvard and Berkeley credentials) were running the show here, he’d never let me get away with this!  The entry that you’re about to read — at least, I hope you will — is being presented for the third time.  A senior resident of my “Stories” section, after having been conceived in September,’06, “Looking Up” was beamed over here on 9/17/13, after I succumbed to the spell of  yet another full moon. And now, it’s back again… Twice was more than enough, Jon...

I’m just about to climb a bandwagon that’s been turning its wheels in my brain ever since a much loved family friend championed TM, years ago, trying to convince all of us to give it a try. I  was curious enough back then and whipped up a mantra to help me past the gates. But I never got there.  Like the time in my mid-twenties when I tried to fill up a small notebook with all the members of the Greek alphabet, coasting past pi, but never quite making it to omega. I failed. At least a part-time contrarian, I tend to avoid coming attractions. But now I’m about to try to catch up with...

Maybe it was my yellow cotton gardening gloves from the Puako General Store that made the difference. They mottled up right away,  which made it seem like I’d been digging up carrots with Peter Rabbit since childhood. Which is hardly true … but I’m guessing a few untrained but eager to learn tomato seeds may have been coaxed into believing that I was well-mentored in the by-laws of cultivation, which gave them the confidence they needed to survive the harrowing underground route past the lava layer and on through the compost to get a closer look at the beaming Sunlight above. Not...

For snowman/woman fans across the world… with much aloha to one and all!