Round Table Chatter

First of all I would like to thank you for allowing me to speak. I feel honored. I’ve loved these meeting—and meeting you—and listening to your incredible stories has made me happy
I am an atheist. But today I’ll be talking about Secular Humanism. Not all secular humanists are atheists, nor are all atheists secular humanists, but we all have several things in common. We base our life, our existence, on solid ground. Three strong blocks of foundation.
Reason.
Democracy.
Science.
Democracy because we think democracy is the best social structure.
Reason because we prefer to think our way through life. To reason things out. To attempt to use our heads as something more than something to hang our hats on. We need proof. We need evidence. I—and I can’t speak for all humanists or atheists—almost always ask, when told about something: is it the truth?
I think we all—atheist and secular humanists— love knowledge. Once again, speaking for myself, I am fascinated with the study of comparative religion. What religious people believe—have believed—is a fascinating story of human kind down through the ages. It’s history. Our story. Religions and gods have evolved, just as all of us have evolved from a major catastrophy 400 million years ago when nothing was left alive on this planet that weighed over fifty pounds.
My husband was an engineer, also a non believer, and he taught me if you can measure it, it exists. Today we can scientifically measure this truth. I like to think of a little animal, whose bones from this terrible time— after the catastrophe…have been found and weighed– less than fifty pounds–had toes and stood eighteen inches high at the shoulders. Little iohippus,
Today we call him the horse.
That’s evolution.
And, too, just as we can scientifically measure CO2 levels from the beginning of the industrial revolution and watch it rise to the levels it is today. CO2, a green house gas can be a very dangerous element in the atmosphere, but you now what? There are scientist, brilliant young men who claim they can build a device that can consume CO2 as fast as it is created and that may save the planet from becoming another Venus as Richard Dawkins has predicted.
I don’t know about you but I suspect you love our home, planet earth as much as I….
And you know what else I know? An aside—as I look around this table—if, for some strange reason everything you believe was proved not to be true, not one of you here would go out and rob a bank or abuse a child or murder someone. If I didn’t know that I wouldn’t be here and I hope to get back to this later
But now let me go on with the history of our past beliefs. Literally thousands of religions–thousands of gods–almost all of them dead and gone have been around. Gods do die and religious beliefs change. Today, I’ve read, there are something like 25 gods and 25 religions. I think all of us disbelievers are awed by the wisdom and great funding of beautiful literature found in so many of these different concepts. We respect them and learn from them, but we simply do not ‘believe’ them.
Here again I speak for myself: I am a devout disbeliever. I am not religious, I don’t go to church, I don’t pray. But none of us buy the notion that hell exists. Or heaven. Or satan.
…Or fairies. Or unicorns. Or menehunes or leprechaons.
But I speak for myself here because, if you turn to the page entitled The Affirmation of Humanism you will find many of these statements use the word ‘belief’. For an example on the fifth line down you will read “We believe that scientific discovery and technology can contribute to the betterment of human life.” I would say “I think that scientific discovery and technology can contribute to the betterment of human life”
There’s a difference. to me there is a profound difference between thinking and believing. It’s true one can think—believe— anything one wants, but to me, and it’s back to proof and evidence which my mindinsist upon, that one can think—believe— 2+2=5, but all of us can prove, with leaves or stones, or toothpicks that 2+2=4. To measure, to use math to solve a problem is essential to us.
Again, speaking for myself: there two words I try very hard not to use. Hate is one. Hate only destroys the hater. And belief. I prefer to use the word think
We look at the three largest religions today: Christian, Muslim and Jew with wonder and I hope to get back to this fascinating bunch of humans later, but first I’d like to talk, for a minute about science.
Now I am not a scientist, but I love—I think we all do—- the way a scientist works his way through the quandaries of everyday life and reminds all of us that we use the same tools he uses everyday.
1. Honest observation. 2. Creative imagination. 3. Motivation. 4. Persistence, patience and perseverance to solve the problem we’re motivated to solve.
Dr. Corlis Lamont in his book The Philosophy of Humanism has a neat story about how he used this method to solve a time when be was trying to get back into his locked car during a snow storm when his key was so frozen it wouldn’t fit in the lock. If you find it, I think you’ll like the story.
I’ve placed before you several books: Dr. Lamont’s book The Philosophy of Humanist as it passes your way please read the back cover. Dr. Lamont was an extraordinary man. Brilliant, He taught at Columbia, Cornell and Harvard and was honorary president of the American Humanist Society. I’ve passed two books and hope to be able to leave one here in the library. The other I will give to the person seated at the table who hits me hardest with his thoughts and mind when we get to the discussion time. You guys vote.
I’ve also brought another book I’d like to leave here. It’s one of my favorites. It’s been an important part of research library. 2000 Years of Disbelief by James Haught. One of the reviews states “(A) jewel to brighten bookshelves that attempt to cover our priceless heritage.” The Churchman’s Human Quest.
I wish I’d been able to bring one for each of you. It is a story of real people, you’ll be surprised to find out who, who had the courage to speak out against religion. Many of our Founding Fathers. Those responsible for the greatness of our country. Who included these amendments to our constition: our right to Freedom of the Press. Freedom of speech. Freedom of religion. I can speak. Bill Bulley can publish, I can declare myself an atheist. Without a terrifying pounding on my door in the dark and dead of night How far we’ve come. How much farther we have to go. And we can.
There is also another book I love, which I hope to see on a shelf here ADDICTED TO WAR by Joel Andreas. Please give it a glance. I think we must face the reality of what’s going on. To do that is not negative, it is a most positive —————-.
There are also two plastic bound papers. One an introduction to Humanism The 10 Points of Humanism: A Definition a gift which I hope you’ll take with you and peruse.
And 10 pages of an abridged version of quotes from the Old Testamont. Which is another gift I hope you’ll glance at.
If I didn’t bring enough of these please share and we’ll get back to them later.
I’d like to get a little serious for a moment, I’ll try to be diplomatic. I think I speak here for all of us—atheist , agnostic, Secular Humanist—we have a major concern— and this has to do with the three major religions today: Christian, Muslim, Jew—particularly the Patriarchs and the Fundamentaists.
I don’t want to pick on these three powerful groups but I must speak out about those who insist there god is the true god and every word in their sacred books, The Old Testament, The New Testament and the Koran is the word of god and must be believed. Actually we kind of of wish they’d stop fighting with each other. The world, I’m sure would be a more peaceful place.
There is nothing worse than a religious war. Nothing and we do seem to be involved in one today.
We all know there are powerful voices in these three beliefs who preach horror.
Strap a bomb to you back, kid climb in a bus and blow everybody to hell and gone and you and all your relatives will go directly to paradise.
We know that story. We also know it is a true statement.
What we don’t always except, in the west at least, is while we are drawn into Christanity by Jesus’ marvelous words about peace and love, there is here a dimension that eimply cannot be avoided, Jesus, this incredible human being, the world is a better place because of the Sermon on the Mount—too bad so few people listen and learn—he is not god. He is the son of god, a part of the story you must believe in order to be a Christian. One has a right to ask, then, “Which god. Zeus. Thor. Appollo? Or the god of the old Testament the great god Jehovah.
There are atheists who get pretty descriptive about this fellow, I’ll try not to be, I won’t quote Richard Hawkins, Chris Hitchens, Sam Harris but I can assure you if a great voice from the sky, and I will quote “Every one that is found shall be thrust through; and everyone that is joined unto them shall fall by the sword. Their children also shall be dashed to pieces before their eyes, their houses shall be spoiled, and their wives ravished.” (Isiah 13:15-16) I know I would tell him, sweetly, “Sir you are a cosmic psychopath and I will do no such thing.”
Nonbelievers shake their heads at those who accept these verses as the word and command from god.
I am not ‘picking’ on the Christian or Jewish god, I am simply stating a passage that exists in the Bible.
Such ferocious passages exist in the Koran.
And these passages are always dragged out when the true believers decided it’s time to go off and kill a bunch of people. God said.
Believers have a habit of cherry picking. They ignore or deny the bad stuff. They don’t want to hear about it or partake but there are those in their folds who use these horrors to drive a wedge and divide us.
It is my fondest hope that more and more religious people speak out against these goings on. I’ve been an outspoken peace advocate for years. I worked in the Church of the Crossroads in Honolulu helping to feed house find safe haven for deserters crippled by what they’d seen in Vietnam. AWOLS who said, “No more.” Marched with human of every faith—and no faith—in peaceful marches. I’ve palled with Friends, although I am not a Quaker. And witnessed, because of human power, the demise of that terrible war. I never thought I would hae to do it again, but here I am.
As an atheist, as a Secular Humanist I am constantly filled with the joy of being a human being. Overwhelmed with the beauty of our dance, our music, our art. Our creative and imaginative and wonderful minds. Our love. Our desire for peace. Our goodwill. Our empathy, generosity, our passion. Our lust for life and living things.
All the good qualities of humanity are within us. Not given to us, but part of us. We can pluck happiness, awareness of beauty, culture, liberty, harmony—I could go on and on and on about these precious gems of goodness that lie within us— that we can reach inward, bring out and polish.
We can check out the seven baddies—gluttony, greed, envy, lust, wrath, pride, sloth and sweep them out of our lives as our mother’s swept the kitchen floor. Changed diapers. Washed dirty clothes.
I know this: we are not born Muslim, Jew, Christian. Sech. Hindu. Whatever. We are created that.
But I would like to move on. I told you I paled with the Friends and they do this wonderful thing: they sit in silence for several minutes. They don’t bow their heads or fold their hands or close their eyes and I would like us to do that
I have with me my dear friend Margaret Clark, she’s my prompter in case I flounder—87 years has a habit of doing that and she has a watch. I think five minutes would be long enough.
If at the end of that time you have some words to say, some questions to ask, I’ll do my best to answer.
And then I have an idea about the books in your hand.
So. Let us go.
Margaret you’re the time.
Relax. Get comfortable. Remember don’t bow our heads. Don’t fold our hands. Don’t close your eyes.

IMAGINE THE FUTURE

IMAGINE THE FUTURE

Kauai lucked out in 2017. A great American, a philanthropist who chose to be anonymous, bought scads of land on the island to protect it from further development.
I was ten. My mother came to Kauai to teach kids in a public school, and we both fell in love with the place.
Although confronted with many problems—over population, traffic jams, foul air, polluted water, lots of homeless—its spirit, its people, its open spaces, its great beauty, left us with hope for a better future.
It didn’t take me long to adjust. My brown Latino skin felt right at home, and my mother told me about the wonderful diversity–race, religion–this small spot in the Pacific was blissed with. The purchase of so much land by some mysterious person cornered all the chatter. It seemed to be all anybody talked about.
What did it mean? What would happen?
The first thing that happened, a new real estate firm opened in the Grove and everyone held his breath. Turned out nothing was for sale, but all the land called Keka Agricultural Park was laid open for lease. Small and medium parcels were offered. Large sections for orchards: orange groves, citrus, avocado, papaya, mango, coffee—an interesting circle of sites to grow breadfruit cropped up. Adopt and care for a tree and a new recipe to go along with it and there will be a special stand to market this original Kauai treat. So diverse: Maui onions, tomatoes, organic soybeans, carrots, corn, you name it.
Plenty of land for free range chickens and green meadows for registered Jersey.
There were fresh ponds where tilapia flourished, kids could even swim there.
There was plenty of land for anthuriums and hibiscus and carnations and pikaki and plumeria. What my mom and I loved most was the more fragrant trees and flowers were planted near the towns, so people could enjoy a heady breath of scented air as they walked or worked.
All the roads inside this real come-to-life fairy tale Agricultural Park were well- packed dirt and, sometimes, red or black tire mulch. You walked in there, or rode, or motored about on golf carts.
Only those farmers who had to truck their produce in or out were allowed pickups.
Multi national flower and plant stands lined the road. Mexican, Hawaiian, Japanese and Filipino farmers built them and decorated them. It was a kind of United Nations Ag Park, the first of its kind.
Just being in this special place was delightful.
My mom loved to grow chili peppers, she remembered the wide variety of chili beans my grandparents grew on their little farm in Baja.
She managed to get a year lease, they were reasonable priced and a promise was made from the leasors that if you could make it go, a better deal could be worked out next time. Absolutely no dollar crops allowed.
The family who leased the small piece of land next to ours was from the Philippines and their stand was a nipa hut. They had a disc that played Bahay Kubu and I learned to sing along.
We taught them to sing De Colores. Before long our entire road was filled with music. Nobody tried to out blast the other. Mom decided to grow some flowers and maybe have a Kauai rooster–they’re the official island bird–and a couple of hens so we could share fresh laid eggs.
Kauai soon became the Hawaiian food basket. We fed the state. Sustainability, island wide, was the goal.
We suddenly became famous and another billionaire showed up. She wanted in on the act. She bought up all the automobile and car rental properties and shut them down. This lady bought her way into the Mayor’s office, got her cronies elected, and they passed a law about automobile ownership. Car owners were taxed off the wall and the money the rich automobile addicts contributed bought a transportation system, so clean, so sweet, so Kauaian tourists would come just to ride around in it.
This batch of lawmakers also passed a law that no more hotels could be built. Ever. That filled every existing hotel/motel to the fullest and every visitor who planned to stay more than a day had to have a reservation. That worked because visitors could only visit when a room was available. You had to stand in line, the whole world over, to book a room on Kauai.
Sometimes it got a little crowded in the Park, so visitors were asked to buy a ticket. Locals, of course, got in free. Lots of lucky guys, who stayed in private homes, had guest privileges, if their host wanted to treat them.
The super stupendous surprise was a solar city built tall with a every small foot print, at the foot of the cliffs–not much concrete here, at least on the ground–and visitors were often struck with an extraordinary shock: they didn’t even see this high rise city until they walked through the front door.
Lots of locals often didn’t even know it was there.
Health Spas, renowned world wide, also sprang up. If you wanted to get healthy spend a week or two in a spa on Kauai. Amazing how many tourists were sick and needed healing. Very expensive for out- of- staters, locals got a kamaaina rate. We rarely sold them, that was bad, but you know how some people are.
A local spiritual group created an Hawaiian Lourdes. A special bill had to be passed to find a way to limit attendance. On opening day all the public transportation and golf carts, even some pickups, had to be commandered. One historian said it was like a Dunkirk without the danger, guns, and huns.
It grew up to be a farmer’s joke, “Where was your pickup when the hoards flocked to Lourdes?”
Answer, “Every pickup on Kauai was at Lourdes.”
We’re the healthiest happiest people in the world. And we intend to stay that way.

GOT MILK?

To produce real, nutritious milk two healthy mama cows–contented belle and boss– need a little over an acre on which to graze. They need a clean barn to come home to, to be milked and fed supplements during the process.
In high tech barns they get a quick exit shower to freshen them as they wend their way into the day.
Inside, people clean up after them. Mama cows are not potty trained. These guys bag the stuff and sell it to farmers who use it to fertilize their organic gardens. Health and happiness is the essence here and those sweet mama cows can live productive lives for 13 or 14 years.
The milk so generously gifted is sent down the road to be pasturized, to be bottled and home delivered, sold to stores, shipped off island or kept at the farm to be sipped in a soda fountain designed to delight the eye and tummy of tourist and local folks alike Especially kids. Remember milk shakes?
It’s the only real dairy in the state. Many milk products are created here. Cheese. Ice cream. Butter. A new industry and a tourist attraction are created.
It’s a world class show place. People come from all over to see it.
It’s a win/win/win. Jobs. Money. Green grass in the fields keeping fresh air fresh.
Visitors arrive in buses. Two trams– Nani and Hoohaku– belong to the dairy and haul in lots of bucks and contributions. Pretty local girls and handsome guys–drivers– love to talk story about how this wonder came about and make sure their passengers note how little space the parking lot and road take. Not much concrete here.
Two thousand mama cows on three thousand acres are the island–and the state–pride and joy. Their beloved babies, before they’re sold–the farm tries to find them good homes–bring joy to all who watch them gambol.
It’s a glorious piece of nature and it’ll remain in place forever.
A destination, movie stars and models come. Even Prince George and Princess Charlotte. Every tour agent in the world sings its praise.
Long pause.
Why doesn’t it happen?
Well, in Hawaii, we have a hard and fast rule. Land must be put to highest and best use.
What is highest and best use?
Development, of course. Three thousand acre!! Six thousand houses with two cars in every garage. Paved streets. Underground utilities and water in every tub
Land owners, contractors, realtors get rich. The state gets rich. Property tax is money you know, which it will need to create and clean up this endeavor.
It needs a new police and fire station. It has roads to maintain and repair. Foul air to deal with. Traffic jams and suburban sprawl to uglify the landscape.
And, once this development is complete, it’s time to find more land to concrete coat.
On our precious island paradise, as in the rest of the country, money trumps health and happiness. Every time.

Power to the Women

The idea of powerful women is almost oxymoronic. Most of us don’t see ourselves in that mix. Few think of us as the weaker sex–that went out with chattel and corsets–but they don’t think of us as power mongers, either.
We can be as brilliant, successful and famous as any man alive. In many cases more brilliant, more successful, more famous. In most professions we have to be ten times better than men and many can do that with one leg in a cast.
Forget for a moment the professional stuff. Truth –on a basic human level– we’re more beautiful than any man alive. Disagree and we’ll have words at twenty paces. Lots of guys are handsome, but they don’t have curves or sass, so–move over peacock–even if you have a three-story closet with a champagne floor and a wardrobe vast as the Duchess Kate’s, you’d rate about six on the fashionista Richter. And do we love to flash it. Gander at the carpet, gawk at the beach, Paparazzi are looking for us, guys, not you.
Jocularity aside, when our country was founded there were only two famous American women. Pocahontas and Mary Dyer. If you’re like I was, you’ll hunt to find who Mary was. Hint: she was a Quaker. There’s a statue of her in Boston. The first of a kind, she gave her life defying male pushers and shovers. One paid a high price for civil disobedience in 1660.
Pushers and shovers? Just one of a bunch of arm pit bad- smell male flaws.
Men push and shove. Few women are inclined, it’s not our style. We tend to be generous, gracious and kind. Most important, without us, there could be no future. High tech– high as it goes–will probably not produce men who’ll end up pregnant. Could it be that’s why so many men today–and far back in history–are bullies? Thugs?
(You can’t give birth to a baby or make milk to feed it. You’re jealous, that’s why.)
Further, thug and bully are not words generally used to describe women and–I could make a case–violence is another unfortunate male preoccupation. Way too many prefer greed and war and killing machines and these preferences are a dark force in America.
But lo! A bright flame flickers. Politics. It’s a recent American female endeavor.
The first Hawaiian female politician, Patsy Mink, was elected to the Territory of Hawaii Senate in 1958. That’s practically yesterday.
Today, we have more than our share of beautiful, brilliant, far- thinking, women in office. . You know who they are and they make all of us proud.
At the national level, we have the best and the brightest, Hillary Clinton. She wrote of herself, in her book Living History–find it and read– “I’m not as good or as bad as many people think.”
Only a woman would make such a statement. May the force be with her.

PEACE AND LOVE

Nikki Giovanni said , “We love because it is the only true adventure.”
I think that’s true and the more true adventures we have in life the more love. Ot, the other way around, the more love we have in life, the more adventure.
Life is an adventure and I think we’d all do better if we loved every minute.
Think of all the things there are to love. The scroll is endless. We could start with a love of our home in the solar system, the Milky Way, the universe. If we only took a few tiny bits of this vastness and studied it, and learned from it, and loved it, the wonder of our time here would be beyond the ability to fathom.
Think of the of the night sky. Peppered with the silver ink of immensity. Billions and billions of other galaxies, salted with solar systems and stars and planets and moons and comets and rings of rocks tossed in the pot of eternity like chicken and vegetables in a consecrated soup. We could taste its richness, savor its flavor and risk the secret scary stuff that might carry us off with the first bite.
Come closer to home. Our sun. Its brilliance. Its comforting or scorching heat. Out little planet. Our home that tilts and the days grow longer. Tilts and the days grow short.
Draw closer still. Our rivers and streams and lakes and oceans and seas and bays. Life there that breathes water like we breath air Waters so deep. So unexplored. For a kid to learn about creating and tending– and loving– a small aquarium full of fish could make of her life such an adventure all the love in that little kid’s heart would bubble up and drown in glee. Toss in a baby squid and find out what a loving, interesting, interested little creature she’d meet and know and love. Who- maybe, even- loved her back. I swear I had one once who always tried to climb out of its bubbling warmth when it sensed my presence. Honest.
Think of the plants. Zillions of them. Trees, grass, flowers, shrubs, weeds, green stuff growing that keeps the air we breath fit to breathe. The scent of the rose. The stink of the weed The scratch and bite of poison ivy, poison oak. One could spend a life time counting all these glorious living sprites. Waving in a soft wind. Blowing in a gale. Plunking themselves down to grow new roots in another part of the jungle.
And animals! You could spend forever learning about the horse. Or the guinea pig. Or the elk. Or the yak. Or the wildebeast. Kauai’s very own Robert Lewis Stevenson said, “The world is so full of a number of things I’m sure we should all be as happy as Kings.”
I think, to bring peace and love to the family of man, we should raise every kid with a pet or a plant to know, love and nourish.

LOVE

Nikki Giovanni said , “We love because it is the only true adventure.”
I think that’s true and the more true adventures we have in life the more love. Ot, the other way around, the more love we have in life, the more adventure.
Life is an adventure and I think we’d all do better if we loved every minute.
Think of all the things there are to love. The scroll is endless. We could start with a love of our home in the solar system, the Milky Way, the universe. If we only took a dozen or so pieces of this vastness and studied it, and learned from it, and loved it, the wonder of our time here would be beyond the ability to fathom.
Think of the of the night sky. Peppered with the silver ink of immensity, billions and billions of other galaxies, salted with solar systems and stars and planets and moons and comets and rings of rocks tossed in the pot of eternity like vegetables in a soup. We could taste its richness, savor its flavor and risk the secret scary stuff that might carry us off with the first bite.
Come closer to home. Our sun. It’s brilliance, it’s comforting or scorching heat. Out little planet–our home that spins– and the sun sets. And spins, and the sun rises.
Draw closer still. Our rivers and streams and lakes and oceans and seas and bays. Life there that breathes water like we breath air Waters so deep. So unexplored. For a kid to learn about creating and tending– and loving– a small aquarium full of fish could make of her life such an adventure all the love in that little kid’s
heart would bubble up and drown in glee. Toss in a baby squid and find out what a loving, interesting, interested little creature you met and knew and recognized. Who- maybe even- loved you back. I swear I had one once who always tried to climb out of the bubbling warmth of its tank when it sensed my presence. Honest.
Think of the plants, a zillion of them, trees, grass, flowers, shrubs, weeds, green stuff growing that keeps the air we breath fit to breathe. The scent of the rose, the stink of the stink weed The scratch and itch of poison ivy, poison oak. One could spend a life time just counting all these glorious living, breathing sprites, waving in a soft wind. Blowing away in a gale. Only to plunk itself down in another part of the landscape.
And animals! You could spend every living moment learning about the horse. Or the guinea pig, or the fox, or the lion or the bear. Kauai’s very own Robert Lewis Stevenson said, “The world is so full of a number of things I’m sure we should all be as happy as Kings.”
I think, to bring peace and love to the family of man, we should raise every kid with a living thing to know and love and care for.

LOVE 2

Nikki Giovanni said , “We love because it is the only true adventure.”
I think that’s true and the more true adventures we have in life the more love. Ot, the other way around, the more love we have in life, the more adventure.
Life is an adventure and I think we’d all do better if we loved every minute.
Think of all the things there are to love. The scroll is endless. We could start with a love of our home in the solar system, the Milky Way, the universe. If we only took a dozen or so pieces of this vastness and studied it, and learned from it, and loved it, the wonder of our time here would be beyond the ability to fathom.
Think of the immensity of the night sky. Peppered with the silver ink of immensity, billions and billions of other galaxies, salted with solar systems and stars and planets and moons and comets and rings of rocks tossed in the pot of eternity like vegetables in a soup. We could taste its richness, savor its flavor and risk the secret scary stuff that might carry us off with the first bite.
Come closer to home. Our sun. It’s brilliance, it’s comforting or scorching heat. Out little planet–our home that spins– and the sun sets. And spins, and the sun rises.
Draw closer still. . Our rivers and streams and lakes and oceans and seas and bays. Life there that breathes water like we breath air Waters so deep. So unexplored. For a kid to learn about creating and tending– and loving– a small aquarium full of fish could make of her life such an adventure all the love in that little kids heart would bubble up and drown in glee. Toss in a baby squid and find out what a loving, interesting, interested little creature you met and knew and recognized. Who maybe even, loved you back. I swear I had one once who always tried to climb out of the bubbling warm of its tank when it sensed my presence. Honest.
Think of the plants, a zillion of them, trees, grass, flowers, shrubs, weeds, green stuff growing that keeps the air we breath fit to breathe. The scent of the rose, the stink of the stink weed The scratch and itch of poison ivy, poison oak. One could spend a life time just counting all these glorious living, breathing, waving in a soft wind. Blowing away in a gale. Only to plunk itself down in another part of the landscape.
And animals! You could spend every living moment learning about the horse. Or the guinea pig, or the fox, or the lion or the bear. Kauai’s very own Robert Lewis Stevenson said, “The world is so full of a number of things I’m sure we should all be as happy as Kings.”
I think, to bring peace and love to the family of man, we should raise every kid with a living thing to know and love and care for.

HI, PEASANT

Henry David Thoreau–remember him?–said, I paraphrase, “A man is as rich as the things he doesn’t need.”
Isn’t that kind’a un-American?
I mean, isn’t it true the more stuff you have the richer you are? What I’ve found is: the opposite. The more stuff I have, the more stuff I have to dust, move, arrange, rearrange, walk around or stumble over. Do you ever feel that way?
What does it mean to be rich, anyhow? In my heavy dusty American Heritage Dictionary the first definition is “Possessing great material wealth”. Which would mean–would it not?– you’d have to be rich enough to hire guys to dust, move , arrange, rearrange, walk around or stumble over your stuff.
If you have enough long green to buy a Trump jet, you’d have to buy guys to fly it, fix it, clean it, park it and do other stuff you need to do when you own a flying white elephant. Wouldn’t it be better to have a plain old-fashioned elephant? You could take it for a swim, a walk, or feed it and sing it to sleep when it needs a nap.
I’ll admit I am a collector. I collect books and animals. I’d be lost without them. Books are my oldest friends. I enjoy the silence of their company and they’re always there when I feed them. .
The animals are my family. I’m happiest with a bunch of kitty/doggy/parrot snacks in my hand to feed them
But, like you, I love the malls. I love the herd when it’s feeding or shopping. Sometimes I think it’s where they’re most content.
Are rich people more comtent than us? Do rich people go to malls?
I see few Roll Royces in the parking lots. Maybe they drive cranky old clunkers when they go to Lihue? Then, with ragged baseball caps slung backward on their handsome heads, raggedy canvas shoes on their famous feet, and what goes on between the two raggedy, too, do they look like us? Would they be collecting stuff? Carting it around in shopping bags? How about munching a red hot dog in a fast food joint?
I probably wouldn’t recognize one if I saw one. Would you?
If they weren’t dressed up to walk the red carpet or had a string of serving men– and women– to protect them and carry all the stuff they bought , would they be visible to the naked eye?
We seem to be obsessed with money and guys who have it. We love celebrities who flash around like peacocks on parade. I’m told some who visit Kauai, love it here ’cause we don’t bug them. Maybe all the ogling gets a bit tiresome?
Maybe, for just a moment, they’d rather be a peasant. Kauai is full of peasants.
Me? I love to stroll through the mall and come out the other end package free. If a guy is as rich as the things he doesn’t need, I’m the richest peasant of all.

REBA REBA GREEN CAT

Reba Reba green cat

You sit by the garden wall

And watch the going’s on out there like a fur ball thin and tall.

You’re just a grown up kitten

With a mom you never knew

To teach you how to hunt and stalk and slither through the dew.

Morning dew refreshes

Evening dew depletes

But another morning follows and another day repeats.

You scamper up a tree trunk and leap from branch to branch

You’re like a ballerina preparing for a dance.

You mingle with the green leaves

You tingle with delight

You sparkle with the sunlight

Your eyes are green and bright.

You really are a real cat

You dare defy the law

You’ll never be a house cat

So what do you think of that?

 

 

 

THE ATTACK

Some stories must be told. Though some people would rather not hear them.

There’s a school of thought:  if you don’t talk about ‘bad stuff’ it’ll  vanish. Trust me, it won’t. A time comes when one must face the truth. Particularly when it smacks you in the eye with a sharp stick.

True stories, like this one, aren’t meant to vilify. Nor  endorse fear. They’re  a means  to understand.  The rage, the violence, the hate that brews inside the flesh, the mind, the  core of man,  can erupt  any time.  And, until it happens to you, you haven’t a clue  the trauma it can create.

Yesterday was a lovely day. Sunny.   Pleasant to the senses.  Birds sang, A  perfumed breeze blew, it caressed my check. Traffic on my narrow two lane road was serene. My little gray Yuris was happy as a saddle horse on a morning ride  through Central Park. I dropped  mail off at a neighbors box, crossed the one lane bridge, and braked at the  sign at the top of the  hill. I  signaled to turn right.

Suddenly, from the left, a four door gray sedan whipped’round  a sharp corner and stopped within inches,  as far as I could tell, from my driver’s side door. Had it hit me, my little car would have flipped. To my left I was looking through the front window of the car. I  gasped, tried to grin–stuff happens– and  gestured  the driver, a blank countenance behind the windshield a few feet away and opened my palm to  gesture  he back so I could safely traverse a right  and continue on my way.

Thus began  an incident so surreal, I’m still shaken thinking about it.

The driver shook his head, so I gestured again. The  head shook ‘no’ and a woman–she spoke–jumped out  her side  and shouted, “It’s  your fault. You’re over the double line.”  She  crawled back inside. The driver, obviously a man, had  nearly collided with me. I wasn’t able to judge the distance between the cars so when the driver rolled down his window I asked, politely, “Back up, please.”

With that he jumped out of his car, loomed large outside my window breathing down on me.  Then,  thrusting his fist through my open window, grabbed the steering wheel.

What saved me was a car with three passengers–I think I counted– one tall young man came immediately to my aid, “Are you okay?” I shook my head.

Another young man spoke to the driver, suggesting he  back. This one  came to my window and  stood between me and the driver. He helped me navigate the corner. “Have a good day,” the tall one  said. “You, too, ” I replied. Behind us the driver, in the middle of the road,  was screaming obscenities.

I want to thank the young men.  Hope their day was good.

My  bad trip was balanced with three good ones. That’s Kauai.

But I don’t know what to make of it. Do you?