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SLOW adult at work
That title occurred to me just now, as I thought of one to accompany the weblog below... which I wrote mostly offline, and which was punctuated by several naps. I remembered someone saying sometime that s/he felt that the SLOW CHILDREN AT PLAY street sign was funny as heck, because it suggested dimwitted kids who wouldn't be able to dodge heedless cars. Was it you, Candace? I forget. I'm getting slow in my doddering age. Congrats on achieving a seamless month of linked calendar days... in the world of weblogging, the joys are small (like each unit of a day on the longer tapestry of time) though the rewards are great (the reading of a luminous weblog). And one of these small joys is the completeness of a chronological record of days. Anyway, welcome to The Streakers' Club, as I dub it now. And no, 'PurpleHair', it's not about nudity so you can calm down. ;-) Oh btw, Ozzie, excellent question, deserving of a weblog entry all its own, and a list. My favorite villain? The Borg, of course. But that's just for TV. I'll write about movie, literary, and other villains sometime soon. Remind me, though.
 The days are beginning to slow down. I am surrounded by lush greenery, instead of the sharp vistas of oceanic horizon whenever I looked out of our now-distant upcountry home. Here, in the permanent tropics of Maui's Lahaina coast, it feels like perpetual summer. A block past the spreading banyans, the groves of coconuts and mangoes, the ancient breadfruit trees, the tall ti and hala bushes is the ocean, of course, lapping quietly by the wharf and Front Street's seaside walk. A tropical 'winter' upcountry can be quite chilly, but here at sea level, and in the shadow of the West Maui Mountains the air hangs thick and humid, insects the size of Audis levitate almost motionless in midair, and the cawing of macaws and parrots sounds dreamlike.
It is a Friday afternoon, and so schoolchildren are letting out in droves and descend on beaches and backyards, small armies of middle school boys hit the streets with skateboards, and teenagers go to ply their various tourism-related jobs in town. I think that a favorite hangout of mine will soon be one of these entrepreneurial efforts -- a tropical-fruit smoothie joint run by local teens, a hole-in-the-wall affair but well situated on Front Street, looking right out onto the ocean. Their product is excellent and refreshing, particularly right after a salty swim. On a street filled with storefronts peddling an overwhelming array of touristy stuff, this place is a breath of the real.
I borrowed a picture book of the Civil War from the small library right across the street. Recently, I've been discovering for myself this aspect of American history, triggered by a book Kass lent me shortly before I left Berkeley, Michael Shaara's The Killer Angels. I was so taken by the narrative that I went on to read the other Shaara civil war books, and have gone on to others. I am particularly interested in Lt. Col. Joshua Chamberlain, one of the Union heroes at the Battle of Gettysburg. (In case you've forgotten your US History facts, Chamberlain was a professor of literature at Bowdoin College in Maine, who volunteered to serve in the Union Army.) So anyway, I spent some time at the library yesterday afternoon, and loved how the natural light in there was bright, appreciated how the windows and doors were situated just so, to receive breezes both from the mountains, and the ocean. I anticipate spending a lot of time in that neat old white-washed building, reading and writing. Because this is what I do now. I read, and write. Pretty basic, eh? I am otherwise unemployed by life but this, after all, is what I have chosen to do with it.
You are never far from my thoughts, however, and what I have really set myself to do is to continue observing. I may be in a place and even a time quite unlike where it is for most of you, but there is no real distance now. The only separation possible is if we disengage and stop listening to each other. Since I have evidently not much else to do (wink-wink, nudge-nudge) I choose to continue to listen. And so these are the fragments of some stories you've told lately, which I have heard, even from afar...
a chronological list of memorable weblogs i've read recently:
[ photo notes: first image: the yard in front of the parsonage, situated right in the heart of Old Lahaina, taken at sunset. then i crossed the street, heading for the pier behind the library, where i snapped the second image: of the sun setting behind the Carthaginian, an old whaling ship now a floating museum. i still can't get over the fact that there's this spectacularly picturesque reminder of the 18th century virtually in my front yard. hehe. ]
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