Mahalo, Maui

It's an all-day travel day today, but we woke up to this farewell rainbow, which definitely eased the pain of leaving.

Thumbs Up

The great thing abut having a thumb thing, is I get to thumbs-up everything.

 Ironing the tablecloth? Thumbs-up.

 Putting out the plates? Thumbs-up!

 Cleaning the glasses? Well, I think you know what direction my thumb is pointing.

 Leaning over the table? What's not to thumbs-up about that?

 Napkins! Everybody needs napkins. Thumbs-UP, baby.

 Relieved and happy and excited ready for it all to happen?

Thumbs most decidedly and enthusiastically up.

Happy Thanksgiving, my people. To you and yours.

happy happy

I had a birthday last week, and now I'm really old. Technically, I was already really old so to be clear I am now really oldER.

I would just throw in the towel and live out  my days in a mumu and curlers, but there's this

but she's YOUNGER than me! 8 months younger.

Oh, and this

She's older than me. Sigh. Hi Jane, you gorgeous hunka burnin love!

Oh well. I'm happy, healthy, wealthy and wise.

I am at least half of those things.

My birthday, though! My birthday was a lalapalooza of fun. A birthdaypalooza, if you will.

On the big day propah, I opted for a family dinner and was very noncommital about where that dinner would take place. I thought maybe Indian since no one ever wants to eat Indian with me and on this day they'd be my prisoners. Then I thought maybe Mexican, because yum. Bill kept asking and asking me and I kept not answering, driving him to the brink of madness which made no sense at all until the moment when a couple of these lovelies stormed in and said:

"You're under birthday arrest, grab your purse!"

Desiree always remembers the fit I threw about celebrating on my actual birthday a few years ago, and knows that I really do appreciate the acknowledgement of the propah day.

That wasn't the end of it, though. One of those selfsame lovelies gifted me with a ticket to Lauryn Hill the very next night!

She looks and acts weird, but she brought the house down, and the peeps? magnifique.

All of this on school nights. What am I, 36?  

The weekend finally came, and we kicked it off with just one more gathering. Just a quiet, cozy evening with friends.

friends in wigs are the best friends of all

It was a good birthday. Took almost the whole weekend to recover.

Er, at least until Sunday brunch

I've got good people. I like you people. Happy Birthday to YOU, people.

I can't complain...

My family and I are in Maui for the first time, and I'm not sure I can ever come back because this is the view out one of my windows

and this is the view from the other

 Yes, Lanai one way, Molokai the other. I could totally get used to this.... 

Double Deuces

Happy Birthday to my fabulous niece Erin.

Double deuces, baby.

She's very pretty.

And she's very smart.

And she's a fun-lover.

She's patient and accepting.

And she makes every occasion better.

She is our shining star goddaughter.

Oh look! Her brother Joe! Poor Joe is underrepresented. Let's have another look at him:

Here he is way back in 2010, before he was a full  head taller than everyone else in the room. Aw, Joe.

Of course, both Mistah and I are suckers for the sisters, who grew up together in front of our very eyeballs:

Possibly my favorite photo ever.

The Colleen and Erin series.

Sigh.

Now that you've hit double-deuces, our darlin' girl, it's nothing but adulthood and maturity ahead.

Oh dear.

Happy Birthday, Erin! We love you big.

obligatory birthday throwback

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Heart and Seoul

When their fourth daughter was born in 1966, my parents were pretty well settled into a place in life that they had worked hard to reach. They had purchased a house in a great neighborhood, Dad was building his surgical practice with a reliable partner and friend, and the girls were happy and healthy. It was a turbulent time for America though, in the thick of a violent mess in Vietnam. Mom and Dad were keeping an eye on things, as a physician Dad was still technically eligible for the draft until he turned 35. By the time they discovered that baby number five was on her way, he was over 34 and they thought they were home free. 

Everything started falling apart in June when Joe got a notice from the draft ordering him to active duty! He tried for deferments; he was now 34 years old with four children and the fifth on the way. We wrote to everyone right up to the President, but received the same standard replies – we need him. His orders arrived shortly thereafter – the address was APO San Francisco. I said ‘well, California will be nice,’ but Joe told me that APO San Francisco was Korea – an unaccompanied tour – we were devastated!

Why Korea? Excellent question. Korea was a United Nations Command, and there were 60,000 American troops stationed there at the time, as well as diplomats and civilian dependents, all of whom needed doctors to care for them. So naturally the Army chose a 34 year old father of 5 and shipped him over there for a 13 month tour, which was considered too short a time to transport dependent family members. 

Mom had undergone an emergency c-section with her last baby (Julie has always been the difficult one), and with her due date just 2 months later, my parents knew that the next baby would also take the front door out of mom’s prolific womb. The c-section was scheduled for August 21^st, Dad’s orders were to report to basic training on August 22^nd. But the US Army is neither heartless nor rigid; of course they extended his deployment date! They gave him three weeks. 

On September 12, 1967, Joe left for M.D. basic training in San Antonio, Texas and I was on my own. We both got through that month –probably the worst in our lives – and he came home for one week on October 10^th. We had a great week… We spent his last night alone, had a candlelight dinner after the kids were tucked in…He was off to Seattle, and then on to Korea. He called me from Seattle and that was it. 

Mom and Dad did their best to settle in to their newly massacred lives. Mom had lots of help from family and friends, Dad had 5 doctor roommates in his “hooch.” Mom and Dad sent each other audio tapes every day. Every. Day. If mom didn’t receive her tape one day, she’d haul everyone over to the post office to see if it had arrived after the postman had left to make his deliveries.

Aside: as kids, we had the scandalous pleasure of listening to some of these tapes many years later. But honestly, all that love and emotion between our parents was just plain gross.

On two distant ends of the earth, my parents were frantically searching for ways to be together. Mom wrote letters. Dad worked the system. There was housing available for dependents, but there was a strict hierarchy about who qualified, and our favorite young doc was relatively low on that totem pole. When a house did become available, first dibs went to all of the senior officers, who promptly turned it down. For them it meant prolonging their stay to two years in order to have their dependents join them, but for a career officer, this cushy 13 month “hardship tour” in Korea was preferable to any time in Vietnam. So it was a no-brainer for them to pass on the house. It was a no-brainer for mom and dad, too. Another year apart versus any length of time, together, anywhere?

It was a golden opportunity for us – Joe volunteered to extend his tour and spend the two years of service there, and for this his entire family would be brought over! This sounds easy on paper, but it took months of letters, phone calls, anticipations, disappointments, and finally I received a telegram on a Saturday morning in February telling me that that we were on our way – start getting the inoculations! I started that very day – took everyone over to Dr. Flynn, our longtime pediatrician, where he started inoculating the girls against plague, cholera, typhus – you name it!

So, mom and the girls got ready to move to Korea! The arrangements were staggering, as was the sheer volume of crap – including a Ford Station Wagon – that would be carried or shipped overseas for the duration. But there was a plan, and as complicated and exhausting as that plan was, the end result was our family, together. 

When the day finally came, it turned out that the plan was off to a rocky start. Mom and the girls were scheduled to fly from JFK to Seattle, then to Tokyo, then to Seoul. The first flight was okay, but the overseas leg had been cancelled. Instead of a 3 hour layover at Sea/Tac, they would have to be there overnight. The mob that had gathered to see them off started to strategize. It didn’t make any sense for them to go and then have to deal with taxis and motels and changes of clothes, they should spend the night at Mom’s brother’s home on Long Island and make the whole trip the next day. But Mom had hung her dreams on this departure date. She was coiffed and ready. The girls were ready. The 17 suitcases that they had begged, borrowed, and stolen were packed and ready. It was today. 

She was going.

My Mom and family were weeping, Sitoo and Uffie (Joe’s mom and sister) were weeping, Dink Brown was weeping – I was grinning from ear to ear!

A motel in Seattle? No problem for mom. A phone call at 2 am instructing mom that she had to file more civilian paperwork before heading to the base for their morning flight? Whatever. They are out of milk for her newborn, infant, toddlers, and kids on this transpacific flight? Okey doke! She could handle anything. She was on her way. 

Mom and the girls (ages: 6 months, 18 months, 4, 6, and 7… go ahead and imagine that) made lots of nice friends during these travels. For plane changes, anyone who was “helping” was allowed to pre-board with the civilians, so there were always at least ten soldiers at Mom’s beck and call. It wasn’t easy, but it was forward motion. And by the time they boarded a nearly empty flight from Tokyo to Seoul, they were home free. It was just the family and about 80 servicemen. There was a steward assigned just to help Mom. He made a bed for each girl in her own row of seats. They all slept. Mom had her first peaceful meal in days, and even caught a few winks. She was starting to breathe again. 

Suddenly, they were descending! The five girls were in their little beds, there was stuff everywhere, it was cold out and they needed jackets and they probably all had to pee….

Meanwhile, on the ground, Dad was frantic. Communication had been shoddy, he had not received word that their flight had been delayed, so he didn’t know when they were coming. He had arranged for a car and driver and a truck and driver to transport his arriving harem and their impressive amount of gear, and he spent two days driving to Kimpo airport to meet each incoming plane from Seattle/Tokyo. Twice the caravan had to turn back disappointed. On the third attempt he asked to see the manifest and there it was: Corey, Corey, Corey, Corey, Corey, and Corey. They were here!

On the plane: The rules said that the civilians had to deplane first, so the servicemen were all standing by until Mom and the girls could get themselves out the door. “Can’t he come and help me?”

On the ground: Dad was in the hanger, pleading to be allowed onto the plane, but rules are rules…

On the plane: Ellie still needed to be buttoned into her coat, they were almost ready…

On the ground: Finally, a kind-hearted lieutenant gave Dad a nod and let him on the plane…

I looked up and there was Joe – I hadn’t seen him in four months! I left Ellie to finish buttoning her coat and ran into his arms. As we were kissing, I became aware of applause – all the servicemen on the plane were standing and cheering – what a scene!

Exactly 268 days later, mom learned how to play honeymoon bridge, and spent the whole day doing just that with her doctor at Seoul Military Hospital, while the big girls were at school and the little ones played at home in the pink stucco duplex by the golf course. Mom was Dr. Jordan’s only patient, and both were hoping that the pitocin would successfully jump start labor so this baby could be born “naturally”. When there was no progress by 7:00 that night, my parents’ sixth daughter was born via c-section (mom’s third in as many years) on November 19, 1968.

But could someone please check that math? I’m way too young to be forty. 

Our two year stay in Seoul was a wonderful family time, made even more wonderful because after all those lonely months, we were all together. Jacquie was quite an attraction in Seoul with her blue eyes and blonde curls – people would literally stand and stare at her wherever we went. We had to go to the embassy in Seoul and renounce her Korean citizenship on her behalf before we left Korea.

Thanks for that, mom and dad. And for being enamored and tenacious enough to live out this story. I couldn’t have done it without you!

How do you really feel?

So, there is really a ton I'd like to write about, but I am so antsy and distracted and excited to get out of town, that I simply can't right now.

Instead, I'm going to give you a visual of how I feel, knowing that I don't have to go back into the office until December 1, and have days and days of aloha ahead of me....



I know, right?

(WARNING: that upsetting cat video may immediately follow.)

That's European

Two of my very favorite people are writing my blog post for me today, whether they like it -- or know it -- or not.

Lonn Taylor, historian, Texan, curator, Smithsonian alum, Fort Davis resident, who writes a wonderful "Rambling Boy" column every week for the local Far West Texas papers, and who is kind enough to share them with us and his other far-flung friends -- shared this tidbit recently, in a column about a million other things:

Word sounds can be confusing even in our native languages if we are getting a little deaf. There is a hoary joke about three deaf Englishmen sharing a compartment in a train. One says, “What was that station we just passed through?” The second says, “Wembly”. The third says, “No, it’s Thursday.” The first one says, “So am I. Let’s all go have a drink.” 

My wife, Dedie, and I once found ourselves replicating this situation. We were staying at a hotel in Oregon where meals were served family style, eight people to a table. After dinner, when we had gone up to our room, I remarked that the young man on my right had seemed very nice. “Yes,” Dedie said, “but his grandmother was a Socialist.” “How did you find out that his grandmother was a Socialist?” I asked. “I said HIS TABLE MANNERS WERE ATROCIOUS,” Dedie replied.

Which immediately reminded me of a fantastically hilarious story my darling niece Colleen shared when she was in Ecuador for a semester way back in her college days. You know her, right? Colleen, Chapel Hill Girl, Carrboro Girl, Quito Girl, bilingual maven, comparative lit guru, Faulkner expert, dancer, La La Lady, fabulous oldest niece whom I adore and in whose birth I participated?

Yes, her.

I was studying abroad in Ecuador and my two American friends and I planned a trip to the cloud forest town of Mindo. On our last day there we went to take a tour of a coffee plantation that we had found in our Lonely Planet guide. It was just the three of us and an older Australian couple on the "tour" (we learned more about our guide's life story than we did about coffee.) At the end of the tour we were each given a small coffee cup with no more than a sip of coffee in it, so we could taste the coffee they grow there. 

I overheard the australian husband saying that coffee should only be drunk black, and I heard his wife say “Well that’s European”. I took this as a jab at our American selves and an insinuation that we liked lots of cream and sugar in our coffee, which is untrue. All three of us take our coffee black. So, hand on my hip, I gave my sip of coffee a little swirl and said, “Then consider us European!”. Hannah looked at me and whispered, “I think she said, ‘well, that’s your opinion’”. 

Those Australian accents are hard.

Vay-has

It all started with Julie in the elevator.

I was still on the plane, Jane was in the taxi line, and Julie was on her way up to our room after successfully navigating the check in system at our fancy shmancy Vegas hotel.

We'd been texting like crazy to coach the adorably nervous Julie as she approached the reservations desk. I was despondent when I had to turn my phone off for the 50 minute flight, and I couldn't wait to land so I could get it turned back on. When I did, a million messages came through in all kinds of crazy order. I tried to make sense of them while new alerts kept coming, and then I saw this:

My first thought was "YAY, she's on her way to the room!"
My second thought was "what the hell is she doing with her right hand?"

I didn't give it too much thought at the time, because I had places to go, baby! While I got myself off the plane and into a cab to get to my girls, they were having an adventure of their own in yet another elevator:

So by the time I arrived on the 30th floor

I had to wait almost 5 whole minutes for my sisters to arrive! It was lonely, and the room was complicated. But I persevered.

I"m glad I made it because mere moments later, this:

Julie's wearing my whole hat, which makes me confused about which of these faces is actually mine.

Everywhere we went, hilarity and the camera followed

seriously, what's with the hand?

We tried to act normal, but it just wasn't always in our repertoire. It's hard when your grown body is taken over by a 12 year old inner child.

When Julie and I found ourselves in front of one of those photo backdrop thingies, we were bereft not to have Jane there, but when a photo op presents itself

whattayagonnado?

We had a great weekend. We ate two completely fabulous meals, and celebrated two festive birthdays for my lovely Leo sisters

Happy Birthday, Julie!

We had cosmos at the cosmo. Look at my Jane:

swoon

 

We played the gambles

Happy Birthday Jane! or should I say joyeux anniversaire?

It's just such a good thing to be with one's sisters.

nibbling faces under the Eiffel Tower

dancing like rockettes in tune with the Bellagio fountain's production of ONE

And always, always, always

the elevator

Vegas, littles.