Here's a pre-reunion Joanne freebie

This is a clipping I ran across in my stuff, which I promptly scanned. Shown are (l to r) Charlie Waters and Cliff Harris. Stalwarts of the Dallas Cowboys legendary "Doomsday Defense" of the 1970's, Charlie and Cliff (aka Captain Crash) formed one of the most feared and intense safety tandems of the era. Their playing styles complemented eachother. While defending receivers Charlie would usually go for the interception, whereas Cliff was always aiming for the hit. One one memorable highlight Cliff zeroed in on a wide reciever. Intent on impact, Cliff actually ended up knocking Charlie out, who was trying to cover the receiver as well.
Charlie played in 5 Super Bowls: V, VI, X, XII, and XIII, with victories in VI and XII. Due to cumulative damage to his knee, he retired following the 1982 NFC Championship vs the Niners (the "Catch").
Why am I telling all this history about Dallas Cowboy Charlie Waters?
Because, dear relatives, in case you did not know this (I know some do) your Aunt/sister/grammy/great-grammy Joanne was pretty sweet on Ol' Charlie.
So there you have it. A free fact about Joanne. Hopefully you'll read this before next week - that way you can subject her to some good-natured ribbing over it.
Oh, and btw, Judy and Becky thought he was pretty cute too.

Just a few days now

I had to change the title of this entry. I typed it up in June and titled it "Just a Few Weeks Now." I wanted to add some more stuff and so I saved it as a draft, and well, here we are just about one week away.
I can't wait to get together with everyone after so long. Fifteen years means lots of catching up to do. Of course I know some of us have met from time to time during the past one and a half decades. There has been the odd funeral. But this is shaping up to be an event.
How many of you, when watching the movie Big Fat Greek Wedding, scoffed at Toula's attempt to shock "Ee-an" Miller by telling him she had 29 first cousins. Nice try babe! Ooooh, twenty-nine first cousins.
Anyway, I am excited to see all you folks. Let's make some memories.

Mission Buds - Then & Then

I got a call last saturday night from one Brad Jones, an old friend from Mision Buenos Aires Norte. We were never comps, but became good friends nevertheless. He was a co-participant in what became a weekly Sunday night ritual. Once our day's work was done, we would return to our apartment in Castelar, and later that evening Elder Jones and Elder Stevens (his comp at that time), and sometimes Elder Thomas Saul Bigelow and his companion Elder Barney would also show up. We usually had refreshments - sodas, peanuts/chips, sometimes empanadas. We would usually then begin a cutthroat UNO session/marathon, following by shooting the breeze, trading mission stories, then getting some shut-eye. The next day being monday (our prep/sight-seeing day), we would usually split off to do whatever tasks needed doing to get ready for the workweek - food shopping, laundry, etc. It became a fun tradition. I made more friends during that time (my last 2-3 months) than any other.
I was told in a letter by Elder Jones that the tradition ended pretty quickly after I left to come home. I believe he stated it thus, "After you left we came over on one more Sunday night and then we never came again." It happens. Guys get transferred, go home, etc.
Here are a few pics from those couple of months.

Elders Jones, Stevens, and Brower (with his sippy cup). He loved that cup. Looks like that night we were dining on Chinese food from Ming's place.


Myself, Jones, and Stevens. Elder Jones and I, both being serious U2 fans, joked about starting a band when we got home. We were gonna call ourselves "The Relief Society." I suppose the spelling would've had to have been altered enough to avoid litigation.


Ming's Chinese Take-out. Shown are myself, Ming, and one of his sons. They were at this time contemplating a move to Canada. His sons had already chosen their English names: One was going to call himself "Jeff," the other - "Nick." My favorite dish was a chicken stir-fry with apple chunks.


This is the familia Lobos, one of the families which Elder Brower and I visited and taught. Notice the big dark eyes on every one of them. Their happiness and optimism often made me feel quite ashamed, and made me appreciate the things I had and where I came from.


This is Calle 9 de Julio. Yes, it is mentioned in that song 'Big Apple' from "Evita." It is purported to be the widest street in South America.


Again 9 de Julio. Not as dangerous as it appeared. This and the previous were taken by Elder Brower. He and I had done a pretty big sight seeing excursion a couple of Mondays before I came home. There were still somethings I hadn't seen, so we knocked them all out that day.


This is a picture of my last apartment. It is located in Castelar, a suburb of BA. I took this picture right at the traintracks of Castelar station. I had just said goodbye to Brower and Jones and the others who'd shown up to see me off. If you look up at the top right balcony you can see them.
Adios Fellers.

Two days later I was back in Texas.

Tears of the Arizona

I finally found a roundabout way of getting my own video clips onto my blog - via YouTube. Here is a short clip of one of the drops of oil which are still drifting up from the USS Arizona after all these years. This was recorded on December 30, 2006 - Pearl Harbor, Hawaii.

I've taken down the video clip. It seemed to work ok for a few days, then it ceased.
I'm gonna try to figure out what the problem is, then perhaps re-post it.

Our BAND

Roughly 20 yrs ago a couple of friends and I did what countless other teenagers have done over the past 40 yrs or so. We decided to form a rock band. The core members at the outset were Daniel Devereaux, Prince Rahman, and myself.
We ended up playing our first gig at a church dance. Now, I can't remember if we started our rehearsals having already planned on playing the dance, or if the opportunity arose sometime after we began practicing. Anyway, we ended up playing at a church dance. Thinking back, I don't believe we had more than two or three rehearsals with all band members present. Besides the three of us already mentioned, we had Robert Stiles (played in the Central High Jazz Band) on bass, and Marty Munoz (high school choir member) on lead vocals. At that first rehearsal, when Prince plugged in his sticker-laden electric guitar and chopped out a grungy "E", I thought "This is gonna be freakin' awesome!" So, we cobbled together a few practices. My wardrobe for the show was pure 80's Phil Collins - black shirt, narrow tie, grey pants, white sneakers. I can't remember for sure, but I seem to recall Daniel wearing a piano keyboard tie, although that may have been for the second show. Somewhere there is a picture of me at the drums for that first gig. The performance was at the LDS Chapel on Old Christoval Road in San Angelo, Texas. We had the curtains drawn, and my sister Jennifer announced us. Oh, we were at that time calling ourselves Culture Shock.
The performance, considering how naive we'd been about how much rehearsing we needed, was a resounding success. We opened with "Separate Ways" by Journey, and then in no particular order we played "La Bamba", "Talk Dirty to Me" by Poison (quite the rebellious choice, if I do say so m'self) and, being the garage band we were, finished with "Louie, Louie." But the song which IMHO sounded best was "Here I Go Again" by Whitesnake. I thought it turned out wonderfully. I often imagine what it would've been like with regular, consistent rehearsing.
We counted it a success, with lots of room to build on, of course. I believe we were all high on our potential.
Music aside, another notable discovery we made was this: girls love a rock band (to a high degree without regard to the level of preparedness). Obviously we were no pioneers in this discovery. Our reaction seemed to be: "Hey, it works!" I remember Daniel commenting after that gig that there were some church girls who'd never spoken to him before who were suddenly talking to him.
Despite the encouraging results of the first gig, I remember the momentum kind of fizzling over the next few weeks. Another gig opportunity arose - a Valentine's Day doo-dah again at the LDS chapel. We had some practices, but I remember (please correct me if I'm wrong Dan) it seeming for a time that Daniel wasn't going to be able to participate (he eventually did, taking on bass guitar duties). Our set list was comprised of a couple other songs from the La Bamba movie soundtrack, Surrender by Cheap Trick, Twist and Shout (the Beatles version had just undergone a resurgence due to it's being featured in the parade scene in Ferris Bueller's Day Off) and a couple of Prince originals, one being a bluesy instrumental jam, and the other a ballad called "The Girl On My Mind." For this gig Prince took over lead vocals/guitar, Daniel on bass/piano, Andrew Hobbs (a fellow Bobcat) on rythm guitar, and myself on drums.
Alas, our sophomore outing was a bust. The audience was not into it. They were mostly unresponsive, and of those that did respond a couple of people were openly heckling us with surprising malice.
Reasons? One could mention several things. I'd been the one lobbying for the other songs from the LaBamba soundtrack. The audience weren't into them like they'd been with LaBamba itself at the previous gig. Greatly to blame for handicapping those songs and others were my drums. They were a big problem, I feel. I could never tune my snare properly, which caused it to be very unresponsive. Finesse or restraint were out of the picture. I had to hit the snare with extreme violence for it to carry. One or two tunes just got washed away by it, creating a loud, oppressive din. Prince's original songs were the highlight for me. Unfortunately we'd lost the crowd at that point.
One of the worst parts was that there was a girl I liked in attendance. She was from Abilene. I'd told her about the band and she sounded excited. There was nothing worse than knowing she was out there seeing us tank. Seeing us get heckled. She did her best afterwards to help me put a bold face on it.
Bummed as we were, it couldn't have been too long before we regrouped and got back to rehearsing. I remember for the next couple of months having what were, for us, some pretty regular and consistent rehearsals. We'd picked up another guitarist in David Webb, and a bass player in John Fisher. David Webb was quite the individual - seriously into Pink Floyd. Don't know what he's up to now, but he was planning on studying to be a mortician. Didn't get to know John too well - he was a pretty laid back, unassuming type with a cool Texas drawl.
We changed our name to TYO, and I will let you draw your own conclusion about what the letters stand for. If you ever see me in person, and you are actually that curious about it, I will gladly tell you.
Practices were held mostly in David Webb's garage. Our renewed focus was due to a pretty awesome gig opportunity which would take place that April: PROM AID 2!!
Prom Aid started the year before as...PROM AID 1 !! The name says it all - fund raiser for the prom, obviously inspired by Band-Aid, Live-Aid, etc. Those in high school who were in bands submitted their audition tapes in hopes of getting on the bill. There were five slots.
The songs we ended up choosing for our set list were "Sgt Pepper's LHCB," "Born To Be Wild," "Jumpin' Jack Flash," Prince's "Girl On My Mind", Cheap Trick's rendition of "Ain't That a Shame," and "Wild Thing" as our finale.
There were a couple of factors turning in our favor for this gig. The first was that for the show there would be a professional sound system, ie. a large PA sytem, mixing board, monitors, etc. They even miked my drums! At the church gigs, we'd just had our amps and the church building mikes which were connected to the speakers in the gymnasium roof. The other factor was that a fellow drummer, David Keel, had very kindly loaned me several cymbals (I only had one) including a big 20" ride, his high-hat, and best of all - his snare, which was tuned to a Stuart Copeland grade tautness. At our sound check (I believe on wednesday - the event was friday) I was totally geeked out at the sound of my miked drums thundering forth. I though I was John Bonham up there. We tore through 30 seconds or so of Ain't That A Shame, getting quite the response from those who were there.

We were given the third spot. I remember the names of all but the first band to perform, second was a Christian Rock band called Keneniah, then us, fourth was an outfit called ETC., then last were a group calling themselves Pryzm. One thing we noted about a couple of the groups was that they seemed bent on producing note- perfect renditions of the hits (we were all essentially coverbands. I think that we were the only band that did an original - that being Prince's ballad).
We, on the other hand selected good garage band songs which would still survive and thrive if we didn't do them just exactly like the record. Faithful we were, to the spirit of our songs, if not the letter. That approach ensured we wouldn't freak out if something went awry. I believe that we as a band had a gift for not letting on, mistake wise, for mistakes there were. I don't fault the other bands for trying to be exact - their covers for the most part sounded great - especially some of ETC's, who covered Cherokee by Europe, and The Flame, by Cheaptrick. It's just that with the goal of sounding exactly like the record, any variance or mistake would end up feeling like a failure.
Performace night - we all were dressed pretty casually. I wore a t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, as did David and John. Prince went kind of Steven Tyler-y, Dan went punk, complete with combat boots. I'd decorated my plain white t with a symbol made up of our band letters.

Daniel started off our set with the solo from Bach's Tocatta and Fugue in D minor, which elicited crescendos of cheers and applause. I counted four with my drumsticks and we kicked off the first song, "Sgt Pepper." I was tapped for lead vocals on it, and my mike was not working. Just as well really, 'cause if Paul really was dead, he would've been rolling in his grave. That song ended and we'd rehearsed going strait into the next song without a pause. "Born to be Wild" got us right back in business - ours was a pretty juiced up version. By the end of that song any nerves on our part were gone. We were energized yet relaxed.
Back during rehearsals we had penciled in, for this moment in the show right after after 'Born', a little fun at the expense of Radio Station B93, the main sponsor of the event.
The background: A couple of months prior to the show, B93 had changed their format to Top 40, which was about as radical as radio got in San Angelo. Anyway, for two or three days while they were doing the conversion they played the song "They're Coming To Take Me Away" non-stop. Non...STOP.
So, once "Born to Be Wild" ended, Prince said, "We got a little special one here, dedicated to B93" And we went right into "They're Coming To Take Me Away" with Daniel giving it a punked up vocal rendition. The crowd loved the joke. They actually realized what we were up to from the drum and tambourine intro, and even sang along! Anyway, Daniel continued to the end of the second verse, I believe, then yelled "Just Kidding!" We then kicked off "Jumpin' Jack Flash." The song went fine, the audience got into it. If they only knew how hard we'd worked trying to figure out some of those lyrics. Prince's ballad was next. Great example of our playing style. It was a simple song, just two chords. But it was a perfect mood changer for the middle of our set. Daniel had a great piece of inspiration on keyboards - it remains one of my favorite moments. Right at the start of Prince's guitar solo, Daniel went one octave up on the chords he'd been playing, which together with the guitar solo gave the song a beautiful lift.


Prince gave a bluesy "You done me wrong" monologue as the intro to "Ain't That a Shame" with David Webb giving an answering guitar solo after each line. Wild Thing had it's moments, but taken as a whole I feel like we rocked hardest on that song.
It just had this driving, thumping intensity to it. I like to think of it as our 'Beatles in Hamburg' moment - although none of us were high on Preludin.
For our big finale we had a show-bizzy element - a special guest. Tim Brunson was quite the character. He was in the drama club (I saw him in their production of "Whose Life is it, Anyway?"). Turned out he could do a spot on impression of Bobcat Goldthwaite.
So, after Ain't That a Shame, Prince announced that as a special surprise he was bringing in from off the street a "real Wild Thing." So out comes Brunson in hippy garb and the crowd went bonkers. Impersonating Bobcat, he went into a comedy bit, including a nice plug for the Prom.
Prince kicked in with the opening chords and "Wild Thing" was on. A perfectly riotous finale. Brunson remained on stage, having been given Prince's spare guitar to use as a prop, and he did - mimicking playing it with his teeth. He even sang along a bit as Bobcat. Daniel Devereaux gave the performance that "extra little push over the cliff" when he took a fake guitar (which he'd made himself) and smashed it on the stage.
What a rush. We felt excited. After all, there'd been about seven or eight hundred people there. I even autographed one of my drumsticks for one of the Tex-Anns. I cannot remember her name.
We stayed on to watch the last two bands, the final performance being by Pryzm. These guys had talent, no doubt. They also had some pretty potent backing. They were dressed in sharp glam rock threads and represented that 80's hair-band trend quite well. The drummer was sitting behind a wall of Alex Van Halen-style electronic drums.
Only problem was that when they launched into 'Dreams' by VH, those high-tech drums did not function. Only the drummer's high hat could be heard. They were visibly rattled. I think they may've soldiered through that one, but I definitely remember one of the songs was just ended right in the middle because the drums had cut out again. The lead singer did a jig to try to cover the frustration.
After the show he was seen conversing with various folks who were clearly trying to help him shrug it off. We were still on cloud nine with how our set had gone. Looking over at Pryzm's singer one of us said, "I kind feel bad for him." Then the fellow's super cute girlfriend passed by. "But not that bad."
We got some very good feedback. A couple of the sound guys told us that our set had taken them back to the sixties. I assume in a good way. One of the faculty members in charge said we put on the best show - referring to the banter, the joke regarding B93, Tim Brunson, etc. The coolest thing, however, was reading the review of the show in the school newspaper. The writer began, before offering some really nice comments about our performance, with the line: "This band rocked the house."
About six weeks later I entered the MTC in Provo, Utah. Two months after that I was in Buenos Aires, Argentina serving an LDS Church mission. The guys lent me lots of encouragement in my endeavors, sending me letters and taped greetings. I always kept pictures from that gig taped on the wall by my bed in whatever house/apartment I was living in.
We had some great memories, and I still hope we will create new ones.
Here's to TYO, and may they ride the lightning once again.

Welcome Home, Stanley

Stanley came home today after serving a two year LDS Church mission in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil and environs. He had the look of one who has worked hard and has been blessed to see the fruits of his labors. In other words, he looked happy - but also tired as heck from a long journey home.

Here are some photos from the airport.

More Photos

Here are a few more pics that didn't make the cut in the previous posting.
Enjoy!

Pineapples, Peacocks, and Polynesians

Hawaii. What does one imagine who has never been and is about to go? What is "Island Living" as applied to Hawaii? Soft sandy beaches, of course. Coconuts and other tropical vegetation come to mind. Sunsets. That leper island.
I had never swam in the ocean before the trip. It seemed intimidating. I felt like I would be sacrificing myself to the Pacific, not having had any practical concept of a protective reef. A couple of weeks earlier I had received snorkel gear as a birthday present, and was looking forward to using it, but I began to feel paranoid about sharks and started wanting to go out and buy a knife. "Because I want to be able to stick anything that swims up and gets in my face which I feel threatened by," was my answer when asked why I wanted one. Another issue was that I am pretty nearsighted and don't have contact lenses. "You'll be able to see well enough, won't you?" asked Mom. "Yes," I replied, "I'm sure I'll be able to discern a shark once it gets about 3 feet away from me." I finally had the idea of popping the lenses out of my old glasses and wedging them in to my mask where they fitted quite well. Problem solved.
Anyway, despite the sum of my fears, I was fully prepared and excited to spend a large portion of every day in the ocean.
The flight was very smooth, and Judy's plans for transporting everyone were executed without a hitch. Most of us were in the water by about 4:30 pm.






That first day I just swam wearing my reef walkers (old sneakers - I didn't break out the snorkel gear until the next day) and quickly learned some ocean-swimming facts: First, you essentially go where the ocean wants you to. Second, the water really is salty. Third, when seawater goes up your nose it makes you retch.




Thursday afternoon I finally donned the snorkel gear and went reef-exploring. I did not see any "crustay-shee-an" bands under the sea, but I did see several colorful fish among the coral. Occasionally I would find myself drifting along in the same current with one. After an extended snorkel session that day I began heading into shore. Because of the surf, you make progress for awhile, then the tide recedes and you are pulled back out a bit. Well, I had made some progress and was about 25 yards from shore. I was kicking and paddling - but staying in the same place. Then I felt this huge amount of force building up behind me and I thought "whoa, mama." Suddenly I was rocketing towards the beach and was deposited on the sand while the tide went out again. I'm told by witnesses that I appeared quite torpedo-like. Apparently I narrowly missed colliding with others of our party who were wading.
That morning, before we set out for the Dole Plantation, we had a visitor to our section of the beach in the form of a sea turtle. Needing no prompting, nephew Jeffrey and nephew-in-law Jared doffed their shirts and strode Costanza-like into the water in a manly attempt to catch the great beast. "The sea was angry that day, my friends. Like an old man trying to send back soup in a deli."



The Dole Plantation was cool. At the snackbar is sold an evil substance called Pineapple Whip, which is kind of a sherbet/ice cream hybrid. Tropical brain-freeze, brah. Be prepared. Along with the whip I also bought a container of freshly sliced, cold pineapple. So good. That night I said to nephew Ross, "I think I'm addicted to Pineapple. Like, I feel like I need to go out right now and find some." We took a train tour of the various crop fields, and when you see a pineapple field, you realize that pineapples are essentially cacti. Sweet, juicy cacti.




Nephew Jeff and niece-in-law Alisha braved the Dole Maze. They contacted us via two-way radio to advise us that they had no idea where they were.
We encountered gridlock on the way home that afternoon. Which reminds me of another thing I learned about Oahu: for much of the eastern side of the island there is but one major route - The Kamehameha Hwy (which during some stretches has no side streets). Residents of the average mainland metro area are accustomed during their commutes to hear the traffic copter giving advisories, alternate routes, etc. I'm guessing a typical traffic advisory to one stuck on the "Kam" would be "Relax, brah."
Friday was devoted to our visit to the Polynesian Cultural Center, which was just about a mile from the beach house, and about a hundred yards from the motel where the rest of us stayed. Our tour guide was named Gilbert or Gustavo or some other "G" name. Someone please confirm our tour guide's name. The center is comprised of representations of the various Polynesian Cultures. It's a good thing they named it the Polynesian Cultural Center, huh? They have demonstrations of native customs, traditions, costume, dance, food, etc. My favorite? Aotearoa, or New Zealand. The Maoris are pretty cool. Instead of a warm Aloha, they bulge their eyes and stick out their tongues. Upon a return visit to the center on Tuesday, Jan 2nd I spoke with a burly Maori fellow named Mana. I'd always been curious about one part in the film "Whale Rider" (which according to Mana is pretty popular in New Zealand for it's accuracy regarding their culture and the problems which arise in trying to balance tradition and heritage with the modern world). They make numerous references in the film to Paikea, their ancestor, having come to Aotearoa (which means land of the long, white cloud) from somewhere called Hawai-ki (that is purely phonetic spelling). I asked Mana if that meant Hawaii. He replied with some interesting information. Apparently there are three schools of thought in New Zealand as to what actual place Hawai-ki might refer to. Some believe it is in fact Hawaii. Others believe it is Tahiti, and others say it is Panama and its environs. The Panama group state that the tradition describes Hawai-Ki as being a narrow strip of land joining two waters. Interesting. Another thing I found noteworthy about the Maoris was that the weave pattern on the tops worn by the Maori women looks just like a Navajo blanket. I just think they're pretty cool.
We spent all day there, enjoying the songs and dances, browsing the shops, etc. We went to the big luau that night. Upon entry we were each given a real flower lei, and then we went in to dine on, among other things, shredded pork with sticky rice, and of course several helpings of fresh cold pineapple chunks.
The capper of the evening was the big show, which featured song/dance performances from each of the islands. I got several photos and videos. One in particular I hope to show you as soon as I figure out how to put a video clip on the blog. Anyway, it was a hula - the first live one I'd seen. Let me tell you - when those hula girls really go to town? Wow. Talented.



















Saturday some of us (Judy, Mom, Jenn, and myself) went into town to visit the Pearl Harbor Memorial.


Sobering. Survivors of the attack can be seen here and there talking, answering questions, posing for photos with visitors, etc. We stood in line for ferry tickets (which are free) and recieved a 12:15 pm time slot, I believe (Judy?). We passed the time in the museum and gift shop, then had lunch at the cantina where we also took pictures in and beside Admiral Nimitz' jeep.

At 12:15 (Judy?) we reported to the theatre where they showed a movie - Happy Feet. Kidding! It was a docu about Pearl Harbor. We then exited out onto the dock, boarded the ferry, and sailed out to the memorial.

It is eerie. You don't get a sense of the whole vessel down there, but you do see certain features.

I found myself imagining the Arizona still above water along with the others in Destroyer Row, then I turned to the north and imagined seeing those planes appearing over the mountains.





One thing I'd heard about the memorial was that you can still see drops of oil surfacing from the ship even after all these years. It's true.

I'm glad I went.




I don't remember much else of what went on when we got back to our part of the island, but it's safe to say it involved more swimming/snorkeling. Judy will be detailing it in her Day 3 entry. "Oh, I'm sure yours'll be more outlandish," said Judy when asking if I'd read her Day 1 & 2 blogs. I must say that I remember the main events and when they occurred, but beyond that, swimming and snorkeling is my standby plug-in memory. So definitely read Judy's blog, particularly if such things as accurate facts and details are important to you. I'm thankful she can fill in the hazy areas. As for me, well, I will continue to, as George Costanza said, tell "the truth as I see it."
Sunday several attended church. I was not one of them. My penance was seeing the Cowboys lose their final home game to the crappy Lions. I will say no more about my Cowboys. They are dead to me. At least until next season. Jeff, Jeanette, Caitlin, and Ross had decided to make their own excursion to Pearl Harbor, and the rest of us went up to visit Waimea Falls, stopping en route at one of the many shrimp truck eateries one sees.


The trail to the falls is beautiful. It is described as a hike, but it's an easy one. Maybe 3/4 mile.


There is some amazing flora to be seen there. I took hundreds of photos, of which here are some.













The pamphlet lists some of the animal life to be seen, but I was never able to spot any besides the peacocks wandering the grounds around the entrance. I had an encounter with one at a picnic table back by the gift shop. He hopped up on the bench behind me and was just hanging out. Waiting for food I am sure. I got some pretty good shots of him, and then Becky obligingly took one of the peacock and I. It turned out hilarious because the peacock is both facing the camera and also leaning in my direction as if to be more "in frame."




That night the plan was to build a fire on the beach, which nearly was doomed due to the annoyingly strong winds. Jeffrey and Jared persisted however, and were successful.

Then I broke into the supply of fireworks which I had bought a couple of days earlier at Foodland.

At a grocery store! Amazing. They were a little dissappointing in that they all pretty much did the same thing - emit sparks in various colors. There were some tall, rocket appearing ones which I was looking forward to seeing in action. But no, they just stayed on the ground and emitted sparks. I should have been clued in by the discovery of the fuse at the top of it, instead of the bottom. Also I had bought about sixteen tubelike ones which looked just like Roman candles. Nope, sparks. Despite all that, we still had a great deal of fun with them. I don't know why, but seeing them stuck in the sand, shooting out sparks, seemed to touch off some kind of tribal thing in several of us - brother Jeff in particular, and we began running through and around, and jumping over the fireworks as they were blazing away. I have proof. That was our New Year's Eve.


I may be wrong but I don't think any of us made it to midnight.

On Monday Judy, Mom, Becky and Jenn wanted to go to the nearest mall after being tipped off on a mumu sale. Ross and I decided to go along for the ride. I ended up finding some inexpensive island sandals for about $4. Come to think of it, exactly $4. The rest of the day? That's right - swimming and snorkeling. Judy made her b-day commemorative entrance into the water that afternoon.



Then, being New Year's Day and Judy's b-day, we had a party that night at the house. Our cousin Lisa Wagner and husband Ken, who live just a couple miles from where we were, joined us for the festivities.

We had a good time, cake/ice cream, etc.

My gift to Judy was a ukulele. I had actually decided on that as my present about six months ago. I'd heard her talk about how she learned how to play one long ago when she and Becky were living in Hawaii with another cousin, Taylor MacDonald and his family during his teaching stint at BYU-Ha. Anyway, I actually purchased it in Mid-November. She was pretty surprised. Apparently she'd planned on buying one while over there.

I don't know if she's been practicing much.

Monday for me marked that sinking feeling one gets when an amazing vacation is drawing to a close. End in sight and all that. Tuesday some of us attempted a snorkeling excursion to Shark's Cove. No dice. Mainly due to the 30+ foot waves crashing over the rocky barrier-wall into the cove.



The water was churning. So, back to our beach to snorkel there. Judy, Mom and others went back to PCC to do a little more shopping and to catch some stuff we missed the first time. I went myself that afternoon to buy some on sale lava-lavas. That was also when I met and had my interesting conversation with Mana the Maori.
That night? Packing.
Next morning? Drag our stuff grudgingly back to the house for the final muster.
Airport, flight, back in AZ by about 1am thurs morning.



My knees bore many reef coral scrapes. I was not tan at all, having been pretty serious in my 50spf sunblock usage.
I felt like we had used up our time well while out there. We were active all day and went to bed each night exhausted. I succeeded in eating pineapple every day. I even tried coconut milk. Judy mentioned a thing called a balony-rito in her blog. Becky tipped me onto them. They are just what they sound like. 2-3 baloney slices, american cheese, and maybe a little mayo & mustard. Their virtue lies in the fact that one could dash in from the beach, slap one together, eat it, and then dash back to the water all in an eyeblink. 30 minute meal? Hah. Try 30 seconds.
When a vacation has been highly anticipated for weeks and months, it is inevitable that you think and daydream about what will happen. You have certain expectations and images of how it will be and how it will turn out. Most times the actual events fail to live up. In this case, I can say that this vacation and the many things we did and experienced were every bit as awesome and fun as I imagined they would be.
Meaning amazingly awesome and incredibly fun.

Thanks Oili, from Ka'a