Sometimes he sits in a field beside a well-traveled road, oftentimes he is in the park, and occasionally he can be found camped out on the side of the small store that faces the post office. Easily recognizable by his long blond dreadlocks and white beard, he has been part of Waialua for as long as people can remember. He appears to be patiently waiting for someone/something. He asks for nothing, yet people often drop off food, clothing, shoes, and blankets, setting the offerings in front of him. He quietly thanks them, in a voice slightly raspy because he is not used to talking. He has beautiful golden eyes that appear to have seen and absorbed all the sadness in the universe, but his handshake is warm and reassuring. He is a person you would want to be with if the end of the world came; he is connected to…
The approach of the hurricane taking aim at Florida this year, its storm clouds muddying the sky, made me think of him again. He…
Urban myths abound in today’s society. We have all heard the ones about leaving a tooth in a glass of Diet Coke overnight and…
The songs you sing, the languages you speak, the dresses you wear, the food you eat, this is your culture. And from whence is…
The first time it happened, I was in complete and defensive denial. The second time, I still claimed innocence but now had recurring, vague…
(“Ice optro phobia”). Just off the top of your head, does anyone know what this is? Well, I do, and I suffer from it. …
I watched as the Sun threw bolts of heat onto the dry Earth turning whatever small fragments of moisture it had managed to hold…
For weeks now it’s been building. Something so important which is needful that I address it. I realize in doing so some are going…
Thoughts are the children we birth one moment at a time They fly through our minds like seeds riding the wind Searching for…
Shall I draw pictures on your naked chest with my fingertips Tiptoeing lightly through the fine grass of this scape Colour them in with…
