It is a Bad, Bad day at hotel hell.
As in very bad.
I am dressing in camoflage when i come to work next time.
management, touristas, christ on a cross for heavens sake, what the hell?????
Argggggghhhhh.
But then again, I get to surf my ass off tomorrow.
So.......*&%^' em.
Aloha.
31.8.05
Hurricane Survival 101
Watching the news on Katrina's ravages by nature and man, is quite the downer. I have been lucky enough to have the experience twice in the past 20 odd years. First one, passed and nailed Kaua'i. Second, back in '92 paseed and nailed Kaua'i again.
It sucks to see the situation going on in the Big Easy. Sobering, to say the least.
When the lights went out, and the forces of nature cracked its whip, the islands seem to stand together. Looting? Your neighbors stuff? Business' trashed? Nada. The neighbors gathered together, warmed foods by propane, BBQ's and shared what ever was needed with each other. We all helped out the older couple down the street that were in need. Maybe it is just natural here to aid your fellow man. Surely there are those in N.O. that are doing the same. But the mentality of it all seems so wrong; what are you going to do with a new pair of Nike's? Or a stereo? Why brandish guns?
Prayers go out to those in need there.
Sensible people are needed, for sure. Hope, time, and patience.
Hope they get it.
Aloha.
(surf tomorrow, life is good.....)
It sucks to see the situation going on in the Big Easy. Sobering, to say the least.
When the lights went out, and the forces of nature cracked its whip, the islands seem to stand together. Looting? Your neighbors stuff? Business' trashed? Nada. The neighbors gathered together, warmed foods by propane, BBQ's and shared what ever was needed with each other. We all helped out the older couple down the street that were in need. Maybe it is just natural here to aid your fellow man. Surely there are those in N.O. that are doing the same. But the mentality of it all seems so wrong; what are you going to do with a new pair of Nike's? Or a stereo? Why brandish guns?
Prayers go out to those in need there.
Sensible people are needed, for sure. Hope, time, and patience.
Hope they get it.
Aloha.
(surf tomorrow, life is good.....)
29.8.05
Cruising The Slow Lane
I am a very slow driver. Usually, I do the speed limit, max. Stay in the right lane, use my turn signals, keep a safe distance, 'dont use the car as a time machine' - was once said to me by a Driving Instuctor, and it stays firmly planted. (Another thanks to teachers!) This drives Lady C nuts. I can drive in the parking lot for a space, and manage to miss all the open ones, 'cause I'm rolling on slow. Being on an island, it is really hard to get lost. Where the hell is there to get lost at? I know almost all the short-cuts, the fastest ways to be traffic tie-ups, the weird way to get anywhere, I know. I am a driver who appears well medicated.
Now, combine that little nut of information with how fast I drive a fire truck. Go figure. Vewy, Vewy fass, ewe wascially wabbit. For some reason, driving a $500K truck doesnt bother me a bit. Driving it very fast, neither. Now, dont get me wrong, I operate it as safe as possible. Use all my senses to drive. Watch here, there and everywhere at once. But I do drive 'em very fast. Training to drive our trucks is a fairly rigorous deal. The instructors push you pretty hard, forcing you to learn on double-clutching standard trucks. Moving these behemoths takes and understanding of the whole workings of gears, RPM's, and when and where to shift. Safety, of course, is paramount, and should always be.
Interesting things happen when I am driving. If I am driving the pumper, (the truck that supplies the water to fires) the calls will be of a certain nature, either fire, auto accident, or certain locales where the Ladder truck cant go. Once, I got the whole rig, airborne. A very heavy truck it is. With 750 gallons of water, all the gear, it weighs .... a hellla lot. But I managed to get the sucker airborne. Hit a dip just right, and at 55 MPH, touched the sky. Needless to say, my Captain, good old Conehead, was ... speechless. Once his eyes came to rest back in his head, he kindly asked me not to do it again. I always wondered why everyone seatbelts themselves BEFORE we even leave the station. If we arent going to alarms, old Mr. Turtle, returns. Oldtimers will tell you that 'we didnt start the fire, get there in one piece, etc.' I tend to think of it as we get there faster, we can save a life, but yeah, I do need to get the guys there safely. And I do.
When I was driving Chief Killa, I managed to put some extra grey on his finely coiffed 'do. With him, I drive a Chiefs SUV. Big sucker. Ford. Expedition. Loaded with equipment, heavy as heck too. I can get him to the other side of the island in 10 minutes, max. When doing the reports, he was always wondering how the times of our response to incidents was so quick. Then he would look over at me, and say - " that's right, YOU were driving" It would drive him nuts, because I take what seems like the worst possible way to get to where we are going, only to beat the other companies that are going too. Fun in the sun, I always say.
You probably dont want to know how much fun it is to blast the siren, air horn.
Keep those windows up, the stereo blasting, I will still get your attention.
Big yellow truck in the rearview mirror tends to do that.
Reason for mentioning this is two-fold - One if you are driving down the road, and emergency vehicles are rolling, pull over to whichever side is safest for you. The reason we could be hauling arse could very well be to save the life of your loved one, or even our own. Locations for firefighters, how to get there, should be second nature. We as professionals, are sworn to get there and do good. Fastest, safest route. I may sound like I am playing, but there is one thing in the brain going on - what can we do to help.
The seconds it takes off to get there, could be the defining difference in a persons life.
Our crew was out shopping for what was on the menu one shift, when the call comes in as a cardiac arrest. The location was fairly close, and it was not our alarm. But we knew we were closer than the company that was called, so we took it.
We arrive at the scene, (quickly, dontcha know) to find a 55 y/o male down, not breathing, no pulse, apenic. Family stiil on the phone to 911. Fast. From alarm to arrival was less than 21/2 minutes. The golden hour starts the second you go down. Quick questions on patient history, meds, vitals. Start CPR. Pull out AED. Ventilate, attach O2. Attach electrodes to patient. Detect shockable rhythm. Shock the patient. Analyze. Shock again. EMS arrives. Exchange info. Intubate (put the tube into the lungs) Continue CPR. Analyze. Shock # 3. Regain a pulse. Lose the pulse. CPR. Coordinate the transportation of the victim to the ambulance. Analyze, shock #4. Load patient, grab one guy to drive the ambulance.
A week later the family comes by with Dad, to say thanks.
The thing is, you cant know how many times it runs thru my head - would a second or two have made a difference? And that really wears you down. I try not to look at it that way, but sometimes you have to much time to think.
So score one save.
It sucks to think about the losses.
Stay well.
Aloha.
Now, combine that little nut of information with how fast I drive a fire truck. Go figure. Vewy, Vewy fass, ewe wascially wabbit. For some reason, driving a $500K truck doesnt bother me a bit. Driving it very fast, neither. Now, dont get me wrong, I operate it as safe as possible. Use all my senses to drive. Watch here, there and everywhere at once. But I do drive 'em very fast. Training to drive our trucks is a fairly rigorous deal. The instructors push you pretty hard, forcing you to learn on double-clutching standard trucks. Moving these behemoths takes and understanding of the whole workings of gears, RPM's, and when and where to shift. Safety, of course, is paramount, and should always be.
Interesting things happen when I am driving. If I am driving the pumper, (the truck that supplies the water to fires) the calls will be of a certain nature, either fire, auto accident, or certain locales where the Ladder truck cant go. Once, I got the whole rig, airborne. A very heavy truck it is. With 750 gallons of water, all the gear, it weighs .... a hellla lot. But I managed to get the sucker airborne. Hit a dip just right, and at 55 MPH, touched the sky. Needless to say, my Captain, good old Conehead, was ... speechless. Once his eyes came to rest back in his head, he kindly asked me not to do it again. I always wondered why everyone seatbelts themselves BEFORE we even leave the station. If we arent going to alarms, old Mr. Turtle, returns. Oldtimers will tell you that 'we didnt start the fire, get there in one piece, etc.' I tend to think of it as we get there faster, we can save a life, but yeah, I do need to get the guys there safely. And I do.
When I was driving Chief Killa, I managed to put some extra grey on his finely coiffed 'do. With him, I drive a Chiefs SUV. Big sucker. Ford. Expedition. Loaded with equipment, heavy as heck too. I can get him to the other side of the island in 10 minutes, max. When doing the reports, he was always wondering how the times of our response to incidents was so quick. Then he would look over at me, and say - " that's right, YOU were driving" It would drive him nuts, because I take what seems like the worst possible way to get to where we are going, only to beat the other companies that are going too. Fun in the sun, I always say.
You probably dont want to know how much fun it is to blast the siren, air horn.
Keep those windows up, the stereo blasting, I will still get your attention.
Big yellow truck in the rearview mirror tends to do that.
Reason for mentioning this is two-fold - One if you are driving down the road, and emergency vehicles are rolling, pull over to whichever side is safest for you. The reason we could be hauling arse could very well be to save the life of your loved one, or even our own. Locations for firefighters, how to get there, should be second nature. We as professionals, are sworn to get there and do good. Fastest, safest route. I may sound like I am playing, but there is one thing in the brain going on - what can we do to help.
The seconds it takes off to get there, could be the defining difference in a persons life.
Our crew was out shopping for what was on the menu one shift, when the call comes in as a cardiac arrest. The location was fairly close, and it was not our alarm. But we knew we were closer than the company that was called, so we took it.
We arrive at the scene, (quickly, dontcha know) to find a 55 y/o male down, not breathing, no pulse, apenic. Family stiil on the phone to 911. Fast. From alarm to arrival was less than 21/2 minutes. The golden hour starts the second you go down. Quick questions on patient history, meds, vitals. Start CPR. Pull out AED. Ventilate, attach O2. Attach electrodes to patient. Detect shockable rhythm. Shock the patient. Analyze. Shock again. EMS arrives. Exchange info. Intubate (put the tube into the lungs) Continue CPR. Analyze. Shock # 3. Regain a pulse. Lose the pulse. CPR. Coordinate the transportation of the victim to the ambulance. Analyze, shock #4. Load patient, grab one guy to drive the ambulance.
A week later the family comes by with Dad, to say thanks.
The thing is, you cant know how many times it runs thru my head - would a second or two have made a difference? And that really wears you down. I try not to look at it that way, but sometimes you have to much time to think.
So score one save.
It sucks to think about the losses.
Stay well.
Aloha.
28.8.05
A Brief History Of The World. (seen from a surfers demented POV)
Surfboards are constructed in various shapes and sizes for differing conditions. Differing levels of talent, as well. Throw in the height/weight options, you can do pretty much anything with a foam blank, glass it, and ride it.
Probably the closest thing to it would be the varying types of skiing equipment, sizes, and the variables there.
--But back to joy.
Surfboards have come a long way since ancient times, when boards were harvested from Koa trees, or the wiliwili tree. Huge, heavy planks were shaped into boards. The Alii (royalty, kings) had certain types of boards made for them. They also had areas reserved for them. Surf there, die. Harsh, yeah, but when you are King, you make the rules. They would have been shaped by hand, carved with adzes, and various tools made from stone. The basic shape would be recognizable in the sticks in the photo. Same general outline. The technical stuff, is pretty basic, you have to gain momentum, stay afloat, and be able to keep ahead of the wave. Turning, while not required, makes it hella lot more fun. Ancients would have been happy not taking one on the head. No skegs (fins) on the early boards, turning was achieved by using the foot as a rudder. The skegs actually came into the mix in the 1930's.
The curve you see in the boards is called 'rocker'. The rocker influences the paddling ability of the board (quicker, or slower) The ability to make the drop down the face of the wave (easier, or more difficult). Variables thrown onto that mix are surf heights and conditions, winds, tides, experience, just about everything but the kitchen sink. Options on rocker can be more forward, more rear, less curve, more curve.
I hope the fact that each board is made in an of itself, shows how much talent on the part of the shaper is needed. They really are one-of-a-kind works of Art.
Lengths vary by personal taste. This too is influenced by the surfers height, weight, and ability. In general, the longer the board, the easier the board paddles. The more volume the board has, makes it easier to manage as well. Shorter boards, while lighter and more responsive, tend to be less durable, as less glass, less volume take importance.
- - Kinda like short skis turn easier?
Tail styles can vary as well, the wider veing more bulky and harder to move in a short arc, where "V" or swallow shapes give you different pivot points. Pointed noses of boards "cut" into the face of a steeper wave easier, combine that with light weight, creates a sports car of the water deal. Wider, broader noses do the same, but on a flat faced wave, allow you to "hang ten" - or dangle 10 toes over the nose, while keeping the tail firmly imbedded in the wave itself.
Modern longer boards combine the 'old school' ease of paddling, but allow 'new school' agressive moves. The are long, yet light in weight. They have more volume, but not the weight gain. This is a double edged sword, because in soft mellow surf, you can really take over the line-up. It allows you if you are greedy, to be in on a lot of waves.
But when it is macking, you better be in the right place at the right time, because that extra length and volume will come around to bite you in the ass. The amounts of water that flow in a wave are pretty amazing, and being in control, well, mom nature letting you THINK you are in control of all that water, is the stoke factor.
People collect old sticks, and pay big bucks for pristine condition boards. I'll re-post the pix from the surfboard auction for more insight.
Todays surf session was good. 3 hours of choice conditions, at Full Point. No crowd, 4 out max. Had a buncha good waves, both lefts and rights. Couple a killer rights. Came home and watched the kids from Ewa Beach, Hawaii win the Little Leauge world series.
12 y/o old boys, making an entire island proud, and go nuts. Pretty cool.
Aloha.
Probably the closest thing to it would be the varying types of skiing equipment, sizes, and the variables there.
--But back to joy.
Surfboards have come a long way since ancient times, when boards were harvested from Koa trees, or the wiliwili tree. Huge, heavy planks were shaped into boards. The Alii (royalty, kings) had certain types of boards made for them. They also had areas reserved for them. Surf there, die. Harsh, yeah, but when you are King, you make the rules. They would have been shaped by hand, carved with adzes, and various tools made from stone. The basic shape would be recognizable in the sticks in the photo. Same general outline. The technical stuff, is pretty basic, you have to gain momentum, stay afloat, and be able to keep ahead of the wave. Turning, while not required, makes it hella lot more fun. Ancients would have been happy not taking one on the head. No skegs (fins) on the early boards, turning was achieved by using the foot as a rudder. The skegs actually came into the mix in the 1930's.
The curve you see in the boards is called 'rocker'. The rocker influences the paddling ability of the board (quicker, or slower) The ability to make the drop down the face of the wave (easier, or more difficult). Variables thrown onto that mix are surf heights and conditions, winds, tides, experience, just about everything but the kitchen sink. Options on rocker can be more forward, more rear, less curve, more curve.
I hope the fact that each board is made in an of itself, shows how much talent on the part of the shaper is needed. They really are one-of-a-kind works of Art.
Lengths vary by personal taste. This too is influenced by the surfers height, weight, and ability. In general, the longer the board, the easier the board paddles. The more volume the board has, makes it easier to manage as well. Shorter boards, while lighter and more responsive, tend to be less durable, as less glass, less volume take importance.
- - Kinda like short skis turn easier?
Tail styles can vary as well, the wider veing more bulky and harder to move in a short arc, where "V" or swallow shapes give you different pivot points. Pointed noses of boards "cut" into the face of a steeper wave easier, combine that with light weight, creates a sports car of the water deal. Wider, broader noses do the same, but on a flat faced wave, allow you to "hang ten" - or dangle 10 toes over the nose, while keeping the tail firmly imbedded in the wave itself.
Modern longer boards combine the 'old school' ease of paddling, but allow 'new school' agressive moves. The are long, yet light in weight. They have more volume, but not the weight gain. This is a double edged sword, because in soft mellow surf, you can really take over the line-up. It allows you if you are greedy, to be in on a lot of waves.
But when it is macking, you better be in the right place at the right time, because that extra length and volume will come around to bite you in the ass. The amounts of water that flow in a wave are pretty amazing, and being in control, well, mom nature letting you THINK you are in control of all that water, is the stoke factor.
People collect old sticks, and pay big bucks for pristine condition boards. I'll re-post the pix from the surfboard auction for more insight.
Todays surf session was good. 3 hours of choice conditions, at Full Point. No crowd, 4 out max. Had a buncha good waves, both lefts and rights. Couple a killer rights. Came home and watched the kids from Ewa Beach, Hawaii win the Little Leauge world series.
12 y/o old boys, making an entire island proud, and go nuts. Pretty cool.
Aloha.
27.8.05
"No Masterbacks"
Tag was called 'no masterbacks' in small kid time -10 years ago -
Would have just finished waiting out a 4 year hiring freeze with the fire department, at age 36, I would be entering the 2nd month of a 4 month training class. (aka - No Surf For 4 Months) Lose 20 lbs during training, still work nights at the Hotel Hell, tiring my mind, body to the nth degree. October would make 23 years w/ Lady C, my sons would be 13, 12 and the lead female terrorist, Maimai, would be 3.
5 years ago -
Would have buried my father-in-law, my beloved Gram Minnie, realized what a awesome job I have, lived thru many a wipe out, fire, mentally taxing calls. Still having the mind of a surf grommet. Would be arguing on a daily basis with my oldest.
Yesterday -
AM - would be starting a 24 hour shift. PM- would be in the midst of a 24 hour shift. In between, probably taken 200+ 911 calls, from chemical leaks, to cardiac arrests, thru to brush fires. Auto accident that claimed a HPD officers life. Watched Lady C sleep, before I left for work. Smiled. Looked an appreciated a awe inspiring sunrise, before heading into the 911 basement. Drink lotsa Coffee, caffinated beverages. Appreciative of 'playground time' (inside running joke) Will have slept for 3 hours. Check the buoys and indications of incoming swell, on a constant basis.
5 pupu's - ( snacks, of course)
Sashimi, with wasabi/shoyu sauce.
Ahi Poki - Raw diced ahi, mixed with limu, chili pepper water.
Poi. 1 finger, 2 finger, 3 finger. Mo' sour, the more ono. (delicious)
Manapua, Pepeau, Pork Hash, Half-Moon. (chinese dim-sum)
Anything made by Gramma Minnie, Mom, or me when I gotta cook at the firehouse, cause it is all about the LOVE, baby.
5 songs -
Wish You Were Here - Pink Floyd
Do You Remember? - Jack Johnson
Savannah Woman- Tommy Bolin
Cortez The Killer - Neil Young
Tonights The Night - Neil Young
5 songs (hawaiian) -
Somewhere over the rainbow - Israel Kamakawiwaole
Blue Hawaiian Moonlight - Gabby 'Pops' Pahinui
Waimanalo Blues - Country Comfort
Sunlight, Moonlight - Country Comfort
Hawaii Pono'i - Queen Lydia Liliuokalani
5 songs (that rock, or pre-surf blood churning muzik)
Blitzkreig Bop - The Ramones
In Your Honor - Foo Fighters
I Dont Know For Sure - Husker Du
Kiss Me On The Bus - The Replacements
Post Toastee - Tommy Bolin
A whole lotta Kala (money) -
Give the stewardess and the soldier/coach the most amazing 50th wedding anniversary year, ever. Buy a new surfboard. Maybe a pair of surfshorts.
Do Good.
Do real good.
Somewhere, somehow, via people who really care; for the kids, the land, the ocean.
Probably get taken for the rest.
Toys -
(see picture above - all the toys I need)
Not counting Lady C.
Stuffage that wont adorn my body -
Earrings. (where is the dress to match?)
Shoes. (if i didnt HAVE to wear boots, i wouldnt)
A suit of any kind.
Long Pants.
A tie.
Places to Go, People To See -
Tavarua, Tahiti
Japan
China
Maldives Islands
Nias
Indonesia
Ukubillion Joys -
Salt Spray Mornings, Dawn breaking, Surf Rising.
Lady C Smiling. Laughing. PO'd (cause I screwed up)
Son K - Smiling Laughing, sometimes when he cries
Son A (da bear) - Working. Doing. Being.
The Daughter - Living. Growing. Maturing (I could do without that part)
Da Teeeee Veeeee -
Rescue Me - Cause basically, we as firefighters, know someone in the show like that.
PBS - Cause if you stop learning, your dead.
Billabong Surf TV - I dont think it comes in midwest flavors (I keeed, I keeed)
The Older, The More Corny TV from the past - Anything, really.
College Football - 'Cause it is a real game, not whores in uniforms like that NFL.
Simple. It's In There.
Aloha.
One small added - for songs - The Acoustic version of 'Everlong' by the Foo Fighters, as done on the Howard Stern Show, is by far the most unbelivable acoustic version of a rock song ever done.
You want chills? You want to hear pure, unfiltered emotion? Find a copy, play it. The proof is in the pudding. If I can ever figure out a way to post the version I have, I will.
The song rocks.
I'm getting wet in the morning, BTW.
Bwahahahaha.
Aloha, the sequel.
25.8.05
Mmmmm Good.
The link will mean nothing to non-surf types, but it means hella good fun for me. Fact is, that soon, like September soon, the shores will get something worthwhile.
(click on Mmmm Good to see my bible)
Bust out the sickleave papers, Ma.
Burnt shoulders, sore arms, waterfilled sinus' - - WILL be the norm.
Oh Yeah.
Happy, happy, joy, joy.
Aloha.
(click on Mmmm Good to see my bible)
Bust out the sickleave papers, Ma.
Burnt shoulders, sore arms, waterfilled sinus' - - WILL be the norm.
Oh Yeah.
Happy, happy, joy, joy.
Aloha.
Where Did It Go?
It was there when you were born. You could see it in the light; how it falls across everything, hiding nothing. An ornament hanging on a first Christmas tree. Splashes of color on a first experience of art.
The first Sunday Mass, after meeting you, the sly smile given after the body of Christ.
Did it run and hide from the stench of mans inhumanities to fellow man? Overloaded senses from media bombardment of Me, Me, Me? Is it shamed, tired of ruthless exposure of that which is between two?
The 3 days pain; for that first bologna loaf in the bassinet.
Squeals of excitement, brought on from unexpected discovery, for what is coming. Wide, saucer like eyes, (giving Bambi a run for the money) focusing on the new, the wonder, the rush. Surprise flowers, never knowing when they will come, or why.
Drying tears. Calming, soothing words.
Really waiting, for all time, for the roots to strengthen, the tree to bear, the shade to come. Protection. Protection from the elements, natural, less horrible than manmade. Look; the biggest word in the 'Dick and Jane books', really seeing with your own eyes that beauty we have all around.
Knowing they grow up, knowing only wanting for the best.
In silence, will it return? Will it decide that the best answer is sometimes - silence? Faith in knowing it will. Guarding that which is dear, that riches cannot acquire. Burning inside, willing to impart all that has been seen, all that has been in error. Not wanting a repeat. Be able to detour from the problems thrown across the path of life.
It is there.
Somewhere.
Hiding in the breeze, possibly in the sea.
That budding flower? Perhaps.
It is there.
Because We will believe in it.
No war, attack, extreme bigotry will prevail.
Because everyday starts anew.
Innocence.
Aloha.
The first Sunday Mass, after meeting you, the sly smile given after the body of Christ.
Did it run and hide from the stench of mans inhumanities to fellow man? Overloaded senses from media bombardment of Me, Me, Me? Is it shamed, tired of ruthless exposure of that which is between two?
The 3 days pain; for that first bologna loaf in the bassinet.
Squeals of excitement, brought on from unexpected discovery, for what is coming. Wide, saucer like eyes, (giving Bambi a run for the money) focusing on the new, the wonder, the rush. Surprise flowers, never knowing when they will come, or why.
Drying tears. Calming, soothing words.
Really waiting, for all time, for the roots to strengthen, the tree to bear, the shade to come. Protection. Protection from the elements, natural, less horrible than manmade. Look; the biggest word in the 'Dick and Jane books', really seeing with your own eyes that beauty we have all around.
Knowing they grow up, knowing only wanting for the best.
In silence, will it return? Will it decide that the best answer is sometimes - silence? Faith in knowing it will. Guarding that which is dear, that riches cannot acquire. Burning inside, willing to impart all that has been seen, all that has been in error. Not wanting a repeat. Be able to detour from the problems thrown across the path of life.
It is there.
Somewhere.
Hiding in the breeze, possibly in the sea.
That budding flower? Perhaps.
It is there.
Because We will believe in it.
No war, attack, extreme bigotry will prevail.
Because everyday starts anew.
Innocence.
Aloha.
24.8.05
Tutu Wahine, Tutu Kane, Dad, Aunty, Uncle 1949
Back in the day, you were not suppose to be Hawaiian, they all wore long sleeves and shoes. 
Go figure.
Go figure.
23.8.05
3/7
Kaupo Gap, Maui, Hawaiian Islands.
My Tutu Kane (grandfather) was born, and raised in this gap. He was the only male child outta 9. His name, as well as mine, is fairly well known. If you say it, (my surname that is) someone will know someone I am related to. We live on islands, thus people know. For his fathers name and lineage to carry on, he needed to have sons. He had 2. My Dad, he had the only son. So Tutu kane's Mother always told me from keiki (child) time, that I needed to have a son. I didnt know what the hell she meant. My Tutu Kane was born on 3/7. My first born, his link to his own lineage, was born on 3/7. At 3:07 in the PM. He had the biggest smile, (my Tutu Kane) on his face, as he peered thru the birth-room glass. Somewhere, Tutu Kane, and Tutu Wahine are in a place where they see all this. They are happy.
My Tutu Kane had the most amazing amount of patience. When he passed, I cried deeply. All I asked was that he grant me safe passage in life, and a manini (small) amount of the patience he posessed.
Still trying, Tutu, still trying.
Me Ke Aloha Pumehana.
Aloha.
"50% Off"
Frustration. That is a word I could do without. Couldn't we all? If it is just as simple as waiting at the stop light for the long red to change, to inter-family relations. Sometimes in the water, I can wait for what seems like eternity to have a primo wave come abouts. I can have loads of patience. Sometimes, it seems so long; due mainly to the fact of pulling up to a surf spot, seeing it look so good, paddling out and finding out that mother nature decided that was it. Wait. Wait somemore. No frustration, a wee bit maybe, but overall, patience wins out. Maybe it is because the wait amplifies the stoke factor.
Why cant I do that more often; with everything else?
If you took 50% off of my internal anger clock, you would still have a pretty harsh temper.
Worse thing is, I am better at it.
I screwed up today, and yet if I try to justify betting angry, a jury would acquit me for reasonable doubt. Reasonable doubt. That a common man would have doubt on the fact the accused actually committed the act.
No doubt that I got angry.
Common man might find it excusable, extenuating circumstances, rationale behavior.
I don't do common.
You cant take back the anger, but it in the black box of emotion, and lock it away. It occurred, and it was released. And I feel like shit. Tired, overworked, stressed are nothing but EXCUSES. Excuses are bullshit.
Nothing god (little g, little od) awful, but the fact that I lost patience, really frustrates moi.
Woulda, shoulda, coulda. That and 2 cents, wont purchase diddly.
If'n I would have harnessed the patience available, the anger would have been in check. The argument would be nada.
I fucked up.
Don't repeat the same mistake, and the lesson will have been learned.
20/20 hindsight, sucks.
Patience.
Aloha.
Why cant I do that more often; with everything else?
If you took 50% off of my internal anger clock, you would still have a pretty harsh temper.
Worse thing is, I am better at it.
I screwed up today, and yet if I try to justify betting angry, a jury would acquit me for reasonable doubt. Reasonable doubt. That a common man would have doubt on the fact the accused actually committed the act.
No doubt that I got angry.
Common man might find it excusable, extenuating circumstances, rationale behavior.
I don't do common.
You cant take back the anger, but it in the black box of emotion, and lock it away. It occurred, and it was released. And I feel like shit. Tired, overworked, stressed are nothing but EXCUSES. Excuses are bullshit.
Nothing god (little g, little od) awful, but the fact that I lost patience, really frustrates moi.
Woulda, shoulda, coulda. That and 2 cents, wont purchase diddly.
If'n I would have harnessed the patience available, the anger would have been in check. The argument would be nada.
I fucked up.
Don't repeat the same mistake, and the lesson will have been learned.
20/20 hindsight, sucks.
Patience.
Aloha.
21.8.05
+ Work +
Pressing on, the Hotel Hell is packed to the gills. Back to Alarm Bureau for 24 'morrow. Water time today lasted as long as my shower. (no swell anyways, so WTF?) ... ..
Kim Chee II Fire -
The Kim Chee II was a restaurant in our area, when I was at my beloved station 5. 5 is haunted. I loved it. The spirits never bothered me, but many times guys got 'pressed'. This means that for some reason, you wake in the night to be unable to move, with a large weight atop your chest. There is nothing there. The rote answer to this has always been to swear at it, to make the spirit leave. So unnerving as it may sound, yelling in the middle of the night at the firehouse can be a good thing. The temporary guys, or relieves that come, they always ask about our 'friends.' I never yelled at 'em when I got pressed. The reason being is a kahu (Hawaiian priest) came to the station for a blessing after we had a bunch of 'pressings' in a row.
He asked what you do when pressed. All answered the same - swear, yell at 'em. The Kahu said "why?"... No one could really answer that. Just because, I guess. "That's what everybody says"...Etc. The Kahu was not too impressed with the commonality of the answers. He seemed to ignore us for a while, and went up stairs to the dorm. Being niele (nosy) I had to follow and bother. Kahu just kinda looked around, and seemed to be listening to the wind, or what was here in the station with us. He walked right up to my bed. My bed is the closest to the heiau (place of worship) behind our station. (that's a story for nother time) He looked at me and asked "whose bunk is this?" - I think he knew the answer, but I told him anyway- "It is mine."
Kahu blinked, looked away and mutter some Hawaiian phrase that I could not hear. When he turned back to me, he said - "why do you yell or swear at the spirits?" - I gave the same moronic answer as we all did.
Then Kahu said this -"what if I told you that the spirits here are good, that they are here to help, and keep you safe?"
"What would you do then?"
"I would be greatful, and glad, I guess"
"They are looking out for you, the children from the past, the women from the times gone, the ones from the heaiau behind your station"
Chicken skin...(goose bumps) ..all up and down my spine.
Of course we got an alarm in the next few minutes, negating anymore conversation with the Kahu.
Late that night, we had the Kim Chee II fire. 2AM, building just going all ablaze. JB and I had the entry, as well as the attack line. The kitchen was in the rear of a long, rectangular shaped restaurant. JB and I bust in, head to the flames. Cant see squat, and it is extremely hot. We get to the kitchen and it is just doing the fire house boogie. Flames are shooting out of the kitchen, fed by the gas lines busted. There are things exploding in the kitchen, waves of heat come with them, so down to the ground go JB and I. Trying to make headway, trying to communicate, not going all that well. We blasted the entry for a moment or two, and pretty much, the entire wall to the side gave way. JB and I were on hands and knees a moment ago, right there. Pushing into the kitchen, you could feel the majority of the heat to our right. We push further, getting about 15' into the kitchen itself, probably 50-60 feet into the restaurant, total. The way the kitchen was set up, there was a counter to our right, maybe 3 feet high. We would stand, get a stream towards the fire, and hunker back down as the fire turned the water to steam and the increase in heat made it unbearable to stand. 2 or 3 times of this, and we were pretty much toasty. Couple more blasts, and it shoud be darkened down, I think.
I swear to God, that a little voice, like that of a child, said 'dont go back up'.
It startled me, it was so ...attention getting.
JB was going to stand, And with the hose line, in my one hand, I reached up and grabbed his turnout, and yanked him back down. It was only to a squatting position, from a standing, but the explosion that sent metal shrapnel from a pot or somenting, flew right over our heads.
I tend to pay attention to those little voices much easier, now.
Work. Everbody does it some way, somehow. We wonder when the breaks come, when the day will be over, when is payday.
On somedays, the break is IN the work.
Aloha.
Kim Chee II Fire -
The Kim Chee II was a restaurant in our area, when I was at my beloved station 5. 5 is haunted. I loved it. The spirits never bothered me, but many times guys got 'pressed'. This means that for some reason, you wake in the night to be unable to move, with a large weight atop your chest. There is nothing there. The rote answer to this has always been to swear at it, to make the spirit leave. So unnerving as it may sound, yelling in the middle of the night at the firehouse can be a good thing. The temporary guys, or relieves that come, they always ask about our 'friends.' I never yelled at 'em when I got pressed. The reason being is a kahu (Hawaiian priest) came to the station for a blessing after we had a bunch of 'pressings' in a row.
He asked what you do when pressed. All answered the same - swear, yell at 'em. The Kahu said "why?"... No one could really answer that. Just because, I guess. "That's what everybody says"...Etc. The Kahu was not too impressed with the commonality of the answers. He seemed to ignore us for a while, and went up stairs to the dorm. Being niele (nosy) I had to follow and bother. Kahu just kinda looked around, and seemed to be listening to the wind, or what was here in the station with us. He walked right up to my bed. My bed is the closest to the heiau (place of worship) behind our station. (that's a story for nother time) He looked at me and asked "whose bunk is this?" - I think he knew the answer, but I told him anyway- "It is mine."
Kahu blinked, looked away and mutter some Hawaiian phrase that I could not hear. When he turned back to me, he said - "why do you yell or swear at the spirits?" - I gave the same moronic answer as we all did.
Then Kahu said this -"what if I told you that the spirits here are good, that they are here to help, and keep you safe?"
"What would you do then?"
"I would be greatful, and glad, I guess"
"They are looking out for you, the children from the past, the women from the times gone, the ones from the heaiau behind your station"
Chicken skin...(goose bumps) ..all up and down my spine.
Of course we got an alarm in the next few minutes, negating anymore conversation with the Kahu.
Late that night, we had the Kim Chee II fire. 2AM, building just going all ablaze. JB and I had the entry, as well as the attack line. The kitchen was in the rear of a long, rectangular shaped restaurant. JB and I bust in, head to the flames. Cant see squat, and it is extremely hot. We get to the kitchen and it is just doing the fire house boogie. Flames are shooting out of the kitchen, fed by the gas lines busted. There are things exploding in the kitchen, waves of heat come with them, so down to the ground go JB and I. Trying to make headway, trying to communicate, not going all that well. We blasted the entry for a moment or two, and pretty much, the entire wall to the side gave way. JB and I were on hands and knees a moment ago, right there. Pushing into the kitchen, you could feel the majority of the heat to our right. We push further, getting about 15' into the kitchen itself, probably 50-60 feet into the restaurant, total. The way the kitchen was set up, there was a counter to our right, maybe 3 feet high. We would stand, get a stream towards the fire, and hunker back down as the fire turned the water to steam and the increase in heat made it unbearable to stand. 2 or 3 times of this, and we were pretty much toasty. Couple more blasts, and it shoud be darkened down, I think.
I swear to God, that a little voice, like that of a child, said 'dont go back up'.
It startled me, it was so ...attention getting.
JB was going to stand, And with the hose line, in my one hand, I reached up and grabbed his turnout, and yanked him back down. It was only to a squatting position, from a standing, but the explosion that sent metal shrapnel from a pot or somenting, flew right over our heads.
I tend to pay attention to those little voices much easier, now.
Work. Everbody does it some way, somehow. We wonder when the breaks come, when the day will be over, when is payday.
On somedays, the break is IN the work.
Aloha.
20.8.05
Sand In The Vasaline
Spam. Thanks! I think I will visit your astounding site, penisinchesweightlossstockanalysis.
Doh.
Besides the obvious, (getting a life) is there ANYONE in the world that would actually take advice from a spam comment? I mean - really?
" Yeah honey, I found this web site, thru a spam comment, and like, I took all the savings, and like, put it into like, woodchip fibers...and the spam said it will increase my dick length, help you lose weight, and cure cancer"....
Thank God for the no-call list. But I had alotta fun with telemarketers 'fore they got canned from my home phone.
Caller ID. My own perverse world of humor/timekiller springs into action.
"Ring"....."Ring"....."Ring"....(on another note - who the hell lets a phone ring more than 3 or 4 times nowadays?)
Me: "Ah, Herro?" ( the reason for the imitation fake chinese accent will become apparent)
Them: "Hello, is Mr. (insert mispronounced last name here) home?"
Me: "He not hea rye now, he no stay, he leeeve me in charge of house"
Them: "Oh, so you are in charge of the house for Mr. (X)?"
Me: " Ah, No. Me jus' take care for Mr., he lemme work in house for him, he good guy, lemme do work for him"
Them: "So does Mr. have the xxxxxx paper? We have a special for Mr., and he would like this paper......etc. (more hard sell crappola)
Me: "No need paper Mr. he reed all da newz on da TeeeeVeeee. "
Them: "So what about you, how about you, we can have a paper delivered for you at a great rate"
Me: "no need, I no reed. Jus' look at pickchers, look at funny pages, you know, laff , laff kine comics"
Them: "What is your name, or address? We would be glad to send you a free copy or 2."
Me: "Mai name is Won Bok. You know, li' da cabbage?" Only I no stink after you eeet."
Them: (now seriously trying not to laugh on the line, but STILL trying to make a sale) "Are you married? I bet your wife would like the coupons in the paper"
Me: "wife no need coupons, America great place, give us free money for food, call well-fair stamp, we go and get at beeg building in town"
Them: "But you..." (now ive tired so interruptions abound from here on out)
Me: "Yah. America glate place, I cum China, where communists run country, I spit on communists (spitting sound and retch) yuk, poo! Communists bad, China bad, America glate place"
Them: "But.."
Me: (louder more incoherent) " I sing now, amareiCAH, AmareICKAH, God shet his glace on deeeeeee...."
Them: "Sir, I ...."
Me:(continuing without pause) "Yu no say while I sing, bad you cut in whyle i sing AmeriKAh dee boootyfull"
Them: "Sir, but...
Me: " Nosir, I tell ewe mai name Won Bok, not name sir, meebe your name sir, not my name...(small pause) ...Now Mr pull in driveway, I give him phone, ewe beeeg troouble now"
'Click'
Now if I can just figger out how to do that to spammers.
Aloha.
You dont want to know what I do to the credit card guys......
Hmmmmmmm?
Aloha, again
Doh.
Besides the obvious, (getting a life) is there ANYONE in the world that would actually take advice from a spam comment? I mean - really?
" Yeah honey, I found this web site, thru a spam comment, and like, I took all the savings, and like, put it into like, woodchip fibers...and the spam said it will increase my dick length, help you lose weight, and cure cancer"....
Thank God for the no-call list. But I had alotta fun with telemarketers 'fore they got canned from my home phone.
Caller ID. My own perverse world of humor/timekiller springs into action.
"Ring"....."Ring"....."Ring"....(on another note - who the hell lets a phone ring more than 3 or 4 times nowadays?)
Me: "Ah, Herro?" ( the reason for the imitation fake chinese accent will become apparent)
Them: "Hello, is Mr. (insert mispronounced last name here) home?"
Me: "He not hea rye now, he no stay, he leeeve me in charge of house"
Them: "Oh, so you are in charge of the house for Mr. (X)?"
Me: " Ah, No. Me jus' take care for Mr., he lemme work in house for him, he good guy, lemme do work for him"
Them: "So does Mr. have the xxxxxx paper? We have a special for Mr., and he would like this paper......etc. (more hard sell crappola)
Me: "No need paper Mr. he reed all da newz on da TeeeeVeeee. "
Them: "So what about you, how about you, we can have a paper delivered for you at a great rate"
Me: "no need, I no reed. Jus' look at pickchers, look at funny pages, you know, laff , laff kine comics"
Them: "What is your name, or address? We would be glad to send you a free copy or 2."
Me: "Mai name is Won Bok. You know, li' da cabbage?" Only I no stink after you eeet."
Them: (now seriously trying not to laugh on the line, but STILL trying to make a sale) "Are you married? I bet your wife would like the coupons in the paper"
Me: "wife no need coupons, America great place, give us free money for food, call well-fair stamp, we go and get at beeg building in town"
Them: "But you..." (now ive tired so interruptions abound from here on out)
Me: "Yah. America glate place, I cum China, where communists run country, I spit on communists (spitting sound and retch) yuk, poo! Communists bad, China bad, America glate place"
Them: "But.."
Me: (louder more incoherent) " I sing now, amareiCAH, AmareICKAH, God shet his glace on deeeeeee...."
Them: "Sir, I ...."
Me:(continuing without pause) "Yu no say while I sing, bad you cut in whyle i sing AmeriKAh dee boootyfull"
Them: "Sir, but...
Me: " Nosir, I tell ewe mai name Won Bok, not name sir, meebe your name sir, not my name...(small pause) ...Now Mr pull in driveway, I give him phone, ewe beeeg troouble now"
'Click'
Now if I can just figger out how to do that to spammers.
Aloha.
You dont want to know what I do to the credit card guys......
Hmmmmmmm?
Aloha, again
More Brushfire Fairytales (thanks Jack Johnson)
The troops are getting pounded. Just getting nailed. The Nanakuli brushfire is now a day short of a week, and Waianae, Makakilo, and more of Waianae is afire. Brushfires, suck. Fighting brushfires, suck. Of all the things we are responsible for, this sucks little doggie dicks. The Westside is a dry spot in this green island. It also holds the most population of lower income families. Drug use is rampant, unemployment high, along with the maladies that come with that one-two combo. So the westside is ablaze.
The ignorant amongst us, they start brushfires...for thrills.
Combine wind, dry earth, plenty of fuel, you get the picture. The fools take it as a challenge to see whose area can have a bigger fire. Really. No concern that it might be their house that burns, just looking for thrills.
Mountain ranges, dry open fields, lava rock, sheer cliff faces; these were not made to fight fires on. Number one problem- there is NO water. In case I never said so, water really helps in putting out fires. So if you dont have water, you do it with your hands. Picks, shovels, this great tool called a brushbeater (invision a large fly swatter, with a rubber mat at the end.) Noone looks forward to brushfires. Combine heat, rough terrain, and ankle hating kneebusting landscapes, it is no fun. A house is extinguished in a matter of minutes. These burn 1000's of acres, for days. But you gotta do it.
My last big brushfire was in a inaccessible part of a valley. We got taken in by helicopter. Flying the bird is nice, but landing on a ridgeline is hairy, to say the least. The view is amazing, the sights astound. The fire isnt looking at what I see, 'tho. We get to the scene at 8AM. We hike, we get to the mass of brush that is burning. 3 miles deep, on a side of the mountain. Helicopter makes water drops, but only 'till nightfall. We are there all bloody day, and afternoon. To reload our water jugs, we gotta hike 3 mi. back to the staging area, 3 mi. back to the fire. Fun. Call your friends.
Not.
So we fight it, we gain headway. And night comes. Now the moral of this story is kinda like 'be prepared'. You hike 3 mi. in and out. You coulda picked up some TP at base staging. But you didnt. So those granola bars for lunch, the water all day, dinner of who-knows-what. It has got to go somewhere.
After it left, I didnt have socks for my boots.
10 sets of blisters the next day. Sore for a month.
I always have TP in my pack, now.
Aloha.
The ignorant amongst us, they start brushfires...for thrills.
Combine wind, dry earth, plenty of fuel, you get the picture. The fools take it as a challenge to see whose area can have a bigger fire. Really. No concern that it might be their house that burns, just looking for thrills.
Mountain ranges, dry open fields, lava rock, sheer cliff faces; these were not made to fight fires on. Number one problem- there is NO water. In case I never said so, water really helps in putting out fires. So if you dont have water, you do it with your hands. Picks, shovels, this great tool called a brushbeater (invision a large fly swatter, with a rubber mat at the end.) Noone looks forward to brushfires. Combine heat, rough terrain, and ankle hating kneebusting landscapes, it is no fun. A house is extinguished in a matter of minutes. These burn 1000's of acres, for days. But you gotta do it.
My last big brushfire was in a inaccessible part of a valley. We got taken in by helicopter. Flying the bird is nice, but landing on a ridgeline is hairy, to say the least. The view is amazing, the sights astound. The fire isnt looking at what I see, 'tho. We get to the scene at 8AM. We hike, we get to the mass of brush that is burning. 3 miles deep, on a side of the mountain. Helicopter makes water drops, but only 'till nightfall. We are there all bloody day, and afternoon. To reload our water jugs, we gotta hike 3 mi. back to the staging area, 3 mi. back to the fire. Fun. Call your friends.
Not.
So we fight it, we gain headway. And night comes. Now the moral of this story is kinda like 'be prepared'. You hike 3 mi. in and out. You coulda picked up some TP at base staging. But you didnt. So those granola bars for lunch, the water all day, dinner of who-knows-what. It has got to go somewhere.
After it left, I didnt have socks for my boots.
10 sets of blisters the next day. Sore for a month.
I always have TP in my pack, now.
Aloha.
19.8.05
Feet
We walk on them. We measure by them. If you change the spelling, we rate it.
We once went to a call where a lady lost hers.
JB and I were working w/ a short crew, only Conehead as our Captain. The alarm comes in, 'auto accident'. So off we goes, hustling down the road to where the accident is suppose to be. The call was at the post-office down the road from our station.
As we pull up, there are no cars, there is noone around looking in need. So you let your guard down, thinking that it is a false alarm. Oh be prepared, O simple ones.
From the side of the post office, comes a lady, frantic, (but with both feet) telling us the car (over there) is involved.
OK.
From the distance, it looks like NOTHING. Car is not damaged, nothing on fire, nothing outta place.
JB & I go over with trauma bag in hand, to check it out. On the way over, we notice the fence blocking the gas pumps looks a bit askew. Not really noticed. Walk up to the vehicle, and notice that there is a huge amount of blood on the door, on the ground and LEAKING from the inside of the drivers door. Open the door, out dangles a ladies...foot. Held to her ankle by threads. Grab our BP cuff, make an improvised tourniquet, and start asking questions.
Apparently, Mama had driven up to the drive-thru mail box, tried to deposit a letter, and was too far away. So she opened the door, reached out, hit the accelerator, plowed thru a fence, (which fell back almoat perfectly in place) missed the gas pumps by ..inches, and practically svered her foot on the concrete base of the pumps.
So we stabalize her, take vitals, reassure. All she worried about was who was going to pickup her grandkids.
Shock, maybe.
Ass kicking, tough older grandma, more likely.
Believe it or not, 3 months later she and her whole family come by the station.
Her foot re-attached, bringing tons of sweets, manapua, raw fish, and well wishes.
Feats. Everyday there are new ones accomplished.
Matter of fact, I got to go for a surf. Damn sweet. Small, but damn sweet.
Aloha.
We once went to a call where a lady lost hers.
JB and I were working w/ a short crew, only Conehead as our Captain. The alarm comes in, 'auto accident'. So off we goes, hustling down the road to where the accident is suppose to be. The call was at the post-office down the road from our station.
As we pull up, there are no cars, there is noone around looking in need. So you let your guard down, thinking that it is a false alarm. Oh be prepared, O simple ones.
From the side of the post office, comes a lady, frantic, (but with both feet) telling us the car (over there) is involved.
OK.
From the distance, it looks like NOTHING. Car is not damaged, nothing on fire, nothing outta place.
JB & I go over with trauma bag in hand, to check it out. On the way over, we notice the fence blocking the gas pumps looks a bit askew. Not really noticed. Walk up to the vehicle, and notice that there is a huge amount of blood on the door, on the ground and LEAKING from the inside of the drivers door. Open the door, out dangles a ladies...foot. Held to her ankle by threads. Grab our BP cuff, make an improvised tourniquet, and start asking questions.
Apparently, Mama had driven up to the drive-thru mail box, tried to deposit a letter, and was too far away. So she opened the door, reached out, hit the accelerator, plowed thru a fence, (which fell back almoat perfectly in place) missed the gas pumps by ..inches, and practically svered her foot on the concrete base of the pumps.
So we stabalize her, take vitals, reassure. All she worried about was who was going to pickup her grandkids.
Shock, maybe.
Ass kicking, tough older grandma, more likely.
Believe it or not, 3 months later she and her whole family come by the station.
Her foot re-attached, bringing tons of sweets, manapua, raw fish, and well wishes.
Feats. Everyday there are new ones accomplished.
Matter of fact, I got to go for a surf. Damn sweet. Small, but damn sweet.
Aloha.
18.8.05
One In Every Bunch
She probably was saying "Oh ave Maria, Holy Ghost-a mary, he is doing it again"...Or something to that effect...
Never have grown up.
You would have been 90 the other day,
and I will always be indebted to you,
for the food,
for the love,
for the scoldings,
but most of all -
The plain fact that you kicked ass.
Gramma Minnie.
Aloha Ke Akua.
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