The weather has turned off bad, snow and freezing rain forecast for tomorrow and Liz is sick in Thomaston, Ga. where she teaches Art to 700+ little ankle biters each week. Teachers should receive hazardous duty pay as they are exposed to way more sick kids than a Doc ever is.
She started a "Z"pac today and hopefully it will kick whatever bug she picked up in the ass.
Checking the "any reason" trip insurance I bought was a downer. I sat here fat, dumb and happy thinking I had all bases covered --- not so --- the insurance only covers 50% of the total trip cost. Bummer. Hope we don't have to use it. Moral to that story --- read the fine print!
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
can't ride -- gotta fly
Since riding seems to be off the playbill right now, Delta Airlines will have to do, besides, it would be a wet ride to Hawaii.
We leave this Sunday for Oahu to revisit some of the places that played an important role in my early life. My two girls were born there. The oldest, Barbara Rene, at Queen Liliuokalani Hospital in Honolulu and, Traci Leilani, at Kailua Medical Center. I later was blessed with a son, James Dylan, born in Covington, Ga.
Looking for my first job in Hawaii was a real eye opener as I had never experienced racial prejudice up close and personal before and believe me, if you were a Haole (white) you were a minority and the last considered. I wound up with a job as a mechanic keeping a small fleet of taxis running. Not my first choice, but it put food on the table.
I walked the 3 1/2 miles to work until I got my first paycheck. Then I took the bus until I could afford a used Honda 50cc Cub. That was arguably the best motorcycle/scooter I have ever owned and I would buy another one today if Honda had the good sense to import them again.
The first couple of weeks in Hawaii were hit and miss as we had very little money to start off with and I was not making much as an auto mechanic. The first week we had only a loaf of bread, some butter, a box of Creme of Wheat, a quart of milk and , I think, a small jar of jelly. Janie, my wife at that time, found a job in the International Market place, and between the two of us, we scraped together enough filthy lucre to rent a place on Prince Edward street. I remember Mr. Otani,the landlord, fondly. He was a small, kind, Oriental man. It was a studio apartment in a low, pale green wooden building, tucked in at the foot of an imposing commercial building. But hey!, it was perfumed with the smell of Plumeria trees in full bloom and leavened with the color of Hibiscus and tropical foliage, two blocks off Waikiki Beach, how much better could you get.
Life was good.
I am not sure how we ran across Clate and Sigrid Sanders in Hawaii, the couple we had shared our ride across the US from Atlanta to LA with, in my '54 Chev no less. They were headed for Hawaii as a final destination while Janie and I were going to stop in LA to earn enough money to continue on to Australia. Funny how things work out.
I guess I need to back up a little here and start at the beginning of this trip down memory lane.
LA was awful - how else can I say it. It was dirty and smelly and hot and dusty and BROWN. It was poised and ready to spring and gobble up a couple of dumb ass kids from the genteel south. After dropping off Clate and Sigrid at LAX to catch a plane to Hawaii, we got a cheap motel to escape the terrible, eye burning, choking, fucking smog and we decided, first thing the next morning, we were going to haul ass out of here and escape this hell.
The only direction that seemed feasible was east, back the way we had come, east until our eyes quit burning. As it turned out Los Vegas was the place we stopped.
Jobs were easy enough for both of us to find. Me as a photographer at the Tropicana Hotel and Janie as a change girl at one of the small Casinos at the opposite end of town. Vegas was a town of perpetual motion so we worked at night and shopped in the wee hours of the morning. Slept the days away while we saved getaway money. I knew which slots were hitting at the Tropicana so at "lunch" break - 2:00am - I would go to the floor and play the nickle and dime slots and usually come home with a pocketful of coins. We took advantage of our time to ride around a bit and saw the Hoover Dam and the Grand Canyon and a whole hell of a lot of desert while we piled up coin.
The day finally came to sell the Chev, as I recall I sold it for $300 bucks, and catch a train bound for LA and the airport where a plane waited to carry us to paradise. The train ride was uncomfortable and Janie was bitching and moaning all the way. We did, however, wind up where we wanted to be, crossing the Pacific on another leg of our trip to Australia.
One way tickets, LAX to HNL, at that time were $99.00 each. Sigh!
Which brings us back to Hawaii.
Clate had found a job working at the "Hawaii Beach Press" , a Paulos newspaper. They published seven local rags plus the HBP. One thing led to another and I hired on as a photographer. I didn't know it at the time but they wanted to fire the photog they had and needed a replacement. Good for me, bad for him.
I have since learned this is the way the world works. It's dog eat dog out there. Loyalty is a very rare commodity and should be nurtured and guarded closely when and if you ever run across it.
A position opened at "Sea Life Park" as a staff photographer and public relations flack. Same deal. They wanted to fire the person they had and needed someone to fill that spot. I didn't realize it at the time but years later this same scenario would come around and bite me in the ass. I really felt betrayed when it did, as I had worked my ass off for Tap & Karen Pryor and expected better. Naive me. Stupid me. I know it's wrong but that episode, and one other, has colored every relationship since then - I do not trust easily - and I hate it.
My time at Sea Life Park was happy and relaxed and had things worked out better I would most probably still be a resident of Hawaii.
Which brings us to this trip - I realize you can't go back but I do want to revisit some of the places that brought me so much happiness so long ago --- plus --- it's rainy/snowy and cold here
Accompanied by my best friend and loyal partner for the last thirty years, Liz, I will share with her a rediscovery of all things Hawaiian.
Uncle Joe, my friend, we are coming to see you, thirty years late.
I will post a ton of pictures here in the coming weeks.
We leave this Sunday for Oahu to revisit some of the places that played an important role in my early life. My two girls were born there. The oldest, Barbara Rene, at Queen Liliuokalani Hospital in Honolulu and, Traci Leilani, at Kailua Medical Center. I later was blessed with a son, James Dylan, born in Covington, Ga.
Looking for my first job in Hawaii was a real eye opener as I had never experienced racial prejudice up close and personal before and believe me, if you were a Haole (white) you were a minority and the last considered. I wound up with a job as a mechanic keeping a small fleet of taxis running. Not my first choice, but it put food on the table.
I walked the 3 1/2 miles to work until I got my first paycheck. Then I took the bus until I could afford a used Honda 50cc Cub. That was arguably the best motorcycle/scooter I have ever owned and I would buy another one today if Honda had the good sense to import them again.
The first couple of weeks in Hawaii were hit and miss as we had very little money to start off with and I was not making much as an auto mechanic. The first week we had only a loaf of bread, some butter, a box of Creme of Wheat, a quart of milk and , I think, a small jar of jelly. Janie, my wife at that time, found a job in the International Market place, and between the two of us, we scraped together enough filthy lucre to rent a place on Prince Edward street. I remember Mr. Otani,the landlord, fondly. He was a small, kind, Oriental man. It was a studio apartment in a low, pale green wooden building, tucked in at the foot of an imposing commercial building. But hey!, it was perfumed with the smell of Plumeria trees in full bloom and leavened with the color of Hibiscus and tropical foliage, two blocks off Waikiki Beach, how much better could you get.
Life was good.
I am not sure how we ran across Clate and Sigrid Sanders in Hawaii, the couple we had shared our ride across the US from Atlanta to LA with, in my '54 Chev no less. They were headed for Hawaii as a final destination while Janie and I were going to stop in LA to earn enough money to continue on to Australia. Funny how things work out.
I guess I need to back up a little here and start at the beginning of this trip down memory lane.
LA was awful - how else can I say it. It was dirty and smelly and hot and dusty and BROWN. It was poised and ready to spring and gobble up a couple of dumb ass kids from the genteel south. After dropping off Clate and Sigrid at LAX to catch a plane to Hawaii, we got a cheap motel to escape the terrible, eye burning, choking, fucking smog and we decided, first thing the next morning, we were going to haul ass out of here and escape this hell.
The only direction that seemed feasible was east, back the way we had come, east until our eyes quit burning. As it turned out Los Vegas was the place we stopped.
Jobs were easy enough for both of us to find. Me as a photographer at the Tropicana Hotel and Janie as a change girl at one of the small Casinos at the opposite end of town. Vegas was a town of perpetual motion so we worked at night and shopped in the wee hours of the morning. Slept the days away while we saved getaway money. I knew which slots were hitting at the Tropicana so at "lunch" break - 2:00am - I would go to the floor and play the nickle and dime slots and usually come home with a pocketful of coins. We took advantage of our time to ride around a bit and saw the Hoover Dam and the Grand Canyon and a whole hell of a lot of desert while we piled up coin.
The day finally came to sell the Chev, as I recall I sold it for $300 bucks, and catch a train bound for LA and the airport where a plane waited to carry us to paradise. The train ride was uncomfortable and Janie was bitching and moaning all the way. We did, however, wind up where we wanted to be, crossing the Pacific on another leg of our trip to Australia.
One way tickets, LAX to HNL, at that time were $99.00 each. Sigh!
Which brings us back to Hawaii.
Clate had found a job working at the "Hawaii Beach Press" , a Paulos newspaper. They published seven local rags plus the HBP. One thing led to another and I hired on as a photographer. I didn't know it at the time but they wanted to fire the photog they had and needed a replacement. Good for me, bad for him.
I have since learned this is the way the world works. It's dog eat dog out there. Loyalty is a very rare commodity and should be nurtured and guarded closely when and if you ever run across it.
A position opened at "Sea Life Park" as a staff photographer and public relations flack. Same deal. They wanted to fire the person they had and needed someone to fill that spot. I didn't realize it at the time but years later this same scenario would come around and bite me in the ass. I really felt betrayed when it did, as I had worked my ass off for Tap & Karen Pryor and expected better. Naive me. Stupid me. I know it's wrong but that episode, and one other, has colored every relationship since then - I do not trust easily - and I hate it.
My time at Sea Life Park was happy and relaxed and had things worked out better I would most probably still be a resident of Hawaii.
Which brings us to this trip - I realize you can't go back but I do want to revisit some of the places that brought me so much happiness so long ago --- plus --- it's rainy/snowy and cold here
Accompanied by my best friend and loyal partner for the last thirty years, Liz, I will share with her a rediscovery of all things Hawaiian.
Uncle Joe, my friend, we are coming to see you, thirty years late.
I will post a ton of pictures here in the coming weeks.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
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