AUGUST 13, 2019

My father died of COPD and emphysema. His father died of emphysema. I suspect that smoking played a role in the deaths of all four of my grandparents as they all smoked freely. No one thought anything about it; it’s what adults did.

Daddy started smoking as a teenager. His father told him it would be good for him, it would help his asthma. He smoked until he was in his late 60s or thereabouts when a car accident shattered his lower left leg while on a trip to California from Washington State. He was flown home where my husband and I met him and arranged an ambulance to pick him up at the airport and transport him to his house, where I stayed to care for him until my Mom and Brother brought the truck and camper home.

He was then moved to a hospital in Seattle and Mom moved in with us; we all visited frequently, Mom visited daily. The doctors put his leg back together using bone grafts, skin grafts and muscle grafts and told him if he continued to smoke he’d lose his leg. He stopped cold turkey but his leg never completely healed; an open wound that wouldn’t close required daily tending and Mom did the tending.

By the time he passed away at the age of 89, he was on oxygen full-time and could barely walk from his chair to the dining room table or the kitchen. He dragged that oxygen tube with him. He developed macular degeneration, making him almost blind. For the last six months of his life my brother and I took turns taking care of our parents, flying from our respective homes. By this time our mother was confined to a wheelchair due to an injury; after Dad’s passing she went home with my brother, where she lived until her death two years later.

I’m not writing this for any sympathy or any comments about how good my brother and I were to our parents. I’m writing this as a warning against smoking. I watched Daddy shuffling around the Assisted Living home and remembered camping trips, vacations, moving from Kansas to Washington. Building a dog house. Building a bird house for me as a gift. Most of all loving us and providing for us.

I have never smoked but now I have asthma, probably because of all the smoking I was around as a child and young adult. Most of the time it doesn’t bother me but when I get respiratory illnesses it’s a factor in my recovery. It was also triggered by blowing dust in Arizona this summer.

And so I make my point. If you smoke, please stop. If you don’t, please don’t start. For it’s not just you who is affected but those around you as well. Just think about it.

JULY 27, 2019


Many years ago I was preparing to embark on what for me was a sacred journey. I would be following a trail walked by my ancestors in 1838. I would feel the derision of others. I would feel the sorrow of few. I would know the heat and the cold, the wooded hillsides and the barren plains. I would be cared-for as they weren’t. It took me awhile to prepare for what I knew I would encounter.

But then I encountered something I didn’t expect. Shortly before we were due to leave I was called into the office of a friend and entrusted with a special gift, a gift from him and from a group of people who didn’t know me but gave me their trust that I would do as they requested. It was a small leather pouch carrying medicine to be shared at each site we visited, in prayer and memory of what took place there.

I received it with humility and tucked it away. And on the journey it came out and was used as requested but whereas others on the journey allowed photos, I asked that while I was doing the ceremony all cameras should be put down. What I was doing was between me, those who gave me the gift, the ancestors and the creator. And so it was.
Since then the pouch has traveled with me and been used in the same way. At tribal gatherings, family rites of passage, wherever it felt appropriate, it has made an appearance.

And then it disappeared. Just before a long trip I couldn’t find it. I searched everywhere, drawers, bags, closets. It wasn’t to be found. So for the first time in so many years I had to travel without it. The trip went well, I enjoyed the time with my daughter, but I felt strange somehow.

When we returned home I again began my search. I hurt inside, I grieved. I looked again in drawers, bags, closets but it was nowhere. And finally I did the only thing I could do. I let it go. I sent it out into the universe with a prayer that whoever found it could feel its power and be blessed. I prayed for it. And I released it.

And then in plain sight I discovered it. Lying safely in my office, it welcomed me. For me this small pouch is sacred. It represents so much: trust, friendship, honor, peace, responsibility. Self.

We all have sacred places, sacred things. For some the act of planting food is sacred. It’s a signal to the universe of life, of renewed life and hope. Of promise for the future. The act of giving birth is sacred. We will do everything in our power to protect and nurture that life. Death is sacred. It’s a passage from one reality to another unknowable one.

For many the family home is sacred. The place where the bodies of our ancestors, such as the cemetery in Kansas where my Potawatomi 3rd great grandparents lie, is sacred. The places where we worship: churches for some are sacred—temples, synagogues, mosques. The calm of a stream, the roar of a river, the music of trees, the vastness of the plains, the tallest of mountains. All these are sacred and to be respected.

On the Island of Hawai’i a sacred space is being threatened and people are rising up to protect it. Mauna Kea is being threatened by the building of a huge telescope. Yes, there are other smaller ones already there but this one promises to overpower them. The mountain was once used to create weapons of war against King Kamehameha’s forces; that too is sacred. Now the disrespectful want to bring people to the mountain who may not respect its sacredness. To stand in the way of those who just want to go up to the sanctuary of its space and give offerings to the Creator. Who want and need to feel the strength and peace of becoming one with the universe.

There have been protectors before, when the other telescopes were placed. But this time the cry of the people is being heard around the world. Japan, Samoa, Mexico, states such as Alaska, Maine, Nevada. People from Tonga, the Pacific Rim. And people from the other islands in our state, leaving homes, jobs, spending money they can ill afford to fly for support. Some Hollywood names are joining. The crowds went from a few hundred to over 2000. And they’re not backing down.

Even when the Kupuna were arrested and removed, they returned to the mountain. Protocols of welcome greet visitors who come in peace. Those in opposition are greeted. The police and the National Guard receive the same welcome. Now policemen speak with the elders with tears in their eyes, asking them to leave, letting them know they don’t want to be doing what they’ve been told they must.

But the Protectors stand firm. It is believed this is their last stand. If it’s not stopped, the top of the mountain will be scraped to form a site as large as four football fields. On this site a telescope will be constructed that is 80 stories tall.

My own ancestors were forced from their sacred places at gunpoint, after being gathered together and held prisoner in their church. Their burial mounds were destroyed, plundered. In later years what mounds were left were plowed over so the colonists could plant their fields. Many of their stories were lost, forgotten, because they didn’t have their sacred places, which to them told their stories.

These sacred places are needed and must be protected. Without them, a culture is lost, a people scattered such as happened to my ancestors.
I strongly support the Protectors and even though health keeps me from marching I can write and write I will. It’s my gift to them. My Aloha.

JULY 4, 2019

We have a porn show going on in our living room.  In fact it’s been going on for some time now.  They have no shame!  They don’t care if it’s day or night, if it’s dark or they’re under a bright living room light.  They catch sight of each other and the chase is on.

It’s actually been very interesting, though I sometime feel like a voyeur.  She starts the action by twitching her tail in a certain provocative way and it appears to attract him like flies to honey, or in our house ants to peanut butter.  He will race across the room and sidle up next to her, nudging her with his abdomen, and before you know it he’s wrapped around her like there’s no tomorrow.  His tail twitches, hers twitches, and they stay that way for a good minute or longer.  And it will happen several times over a 2 or 3 day time frame.

Geckos lay eggs and sometimes, when they’re on the window outside and the light is right, you can actually see a large egg within the body of the female.  I’ve seen them with bulging abdomens struggling around the walls, walking in a manner very pregnant women walk, sort of a wobble.  We have found their eggs on window sills in the house, in the printer, behind the TV and even in the smoke alarm.

And then we have seen the newly-hatched babies on the ceiling, about half an inch long and just plain cute.

However there’s a not-so-cute side to this.  Adult geckos eat their offspring.  They chase them down and swallow them headfirst.  I’ve watched it happen.

One of our geckos has actually made friends with my husband. It will jump down from the windowsill, sniff his finger, stick its head down into his glass and if it’s something he or she finds of interest will actually crawl down into the glass and lick up what’s there.  Or lick the condensation on the outside of the glass.  We make sure it’s nothing that will harm it, mostly just water.  Recently the second gecko has also come over to sniff Eric’s finger.  They’re becoming his pets.

The cat finds this whole thing fascinating.  She will watch the geckos, sometimes chase them or peer under a piece of furniture with great curiosity, but she does not grab them.  I understand that they give off an odor or a protective shield that makes them unappealing to cats so Nani only peers and watches before returning to her chair for a nap.

Recently employees at the Ke Kai Marine Mammal Center in Hawaii started receiving numerous calls from within the hospital.  Over a period of fifteen minutes they received nine of these calls.  When the director approached the phone the calls were coming from, she discovered to her surprise that  they were being made by a gecko!  The gecko has now been returned to the outdoors and the phone now only receives calls from people.  USA Today actually wrote this up after the director posted it on Twitter; the gecko was sitting on the touchscreen of the phone wiggling its feet which were making the calls.

You just gotta love it!!

May 14, 2019

For some strange reason I decided to clean out/consolidate my book shelves. While doing so, I found the following and decided to share it. The author is unknown.
The following poem was circulated by a man at the poor peoples rally in Old Town – Albuquerque – New Mexico, and was later printed in “El Papel”
I was hungry
   and you formed a humanities club
   and discussed my hunger. Thank you.
I was imprisoned
   and you crept off
   to your chapel in the cellar
   and prayed for my release.
I was naked and in your mind
   you debated the morality of my appearance.
I was sick
   and you knelt and thanked God for your health.
I was homeless
   and you preached to me
   of the spiritual shelter of God.
I was lonely
   and you left me alone
   to pray for me.
You seem so holy
   so close to God
But I am still hungry
    and lonely
    and cold
So where have your prayers gone?
   What have they done?
What does it profit a man
   to page through his book of prayers
   when the rest of the world is crying for his help.

April 28, 2019

Our world is broken. Not just cracked or breaking but broken. We see this in the increased shootings at places of worship. We see this when a man sworn to protect the public tazes a child. We see this when someone shoots into a car, not knowing who is inside. We see this when a driver plows into a group of people because some of them are of a different nationality. We see this when a child dies in its crib inside a house because someone shooots at the house from outside.
This realization came while watching the Merrie Monarch celebration at the end of April 2019. Watching the protocol, the respect paid to those representing the royal couple, hearing the chants, watching the hula performances honoring the land (`aina), the ancestors, the gods and goddesses. And I realized that we have, as a people, walked away from our spiritual center. As our world is broken, we are broken. We have allowed people with no compassion, no heart, no soul to rule us, to dictate to us, to lie to us and we’ve stood back and done nothing.
Now, I’m not talking about one spirituality; there are many. But collectively I believe they come from one Source, neither Christian nor Jew, Buddhist nor Hindu, Zoroastrian nor Islamic. Or any of the other spiritual practices around the world. We have let our spirituality be impacted by greed, by radicals who believe their way is the only way and everyone else should suffer for not believing in their way. We have even let these others tell us what we should and should not believe. And we listen.
The problem is there is no easy way to fix this. We have walked too far away from who we once were. Or have we? Have we the ability to look back and recover where we came from, what our ancestors taught us about living in this world? And again, I’m not talking about one race but the ancestors of our many races. Our combined humanity.
Can we repair what is so severely broken?
I don’t have the answer. It’s not that simple. But each of us in a way has part of the answer, part of the understanding that can begin the healing process.
If we would only reach inside and listen.

JANUARY 23, 2019

We are living in a time of such turmoil. Now I’m aware that others, in generations past, can and did write the same thing. Many saw it as the world coming to an end as foretold in the Bible. Others saw it as a time for reformation–I think of Martin Luther, Hiawatha, Tenskwatewa (the Shawnee Prophet, brother of Tecumseh), Wovoka, Martin Luther King Jr. All saw turmoil, either in the church, their country or their world. Some saw it in all three.
I think of this time as a time of Growth. We need to listen to these Reformers, study what they’re saying. But most of all we need to Grow from these experiences.
The issues in the White House did not happen overnight and they’re certainly keeping our country divided while injuring so many families. The economy has caused many to live from paycheck to paycheck and to fear for their very lives and the lives of their children. As someone who is retired and living on social security after the pension we counted on to help out was eaten up by medical insurance, I can understand their fears. I suspect that the food that workers have in their cupboards is rapidly diminishing if not already gone. Their savings are being eaten up (pun intended) and soon, if this shut-down doesn’t end, there will be no place to turn.
So how do we start? First, by growing our own food. A packet of seeds doesn’t cost that much and will yield much more. Many here are starting to see the necessity of this and are creating gardens in their yards or on shared vacant lots. Remember hearing about Victory Gardens?
Budget, a bad word to many but a necessary one. Learn to do without the big fancy car, dinner out every week. Shop at discount stores, farmer’s markets (which benefit you and the farmer), sharing (has your child outgrown his or her clothes; pass them on to a child who could use them–don’t sell them on facebook unless you need the money for your family).
Save. What you have at the end of the month, after growing your own food and budgeting, can be put away for emergencies. And they will come. Early in our marriage my husband’s employer went on strike and the city of Seattle basically shut down (“Will the last person to leave turn out the lights?”). We found ourselves with one small child and one on the way. Unemployment and scavenging the beach, as well as odd jobs, got us through until his company started hiring again; he was first in line.
If you’re not affected now, prepare for the day when you will be, not if but when. It will happen. Be ready.

November 21, 2018

Yesterday I shared a post on Facebook, one which refers to an incident that took place on a reservation in North Dakota, November 20, 2016. The rest of the post is as follows:

“November 20, 2016, the night water protectors came under attack with water cannon in -20 below zero weather. This was a night many water protectors were injured by the militarized Morton, Dane, Cass country sheriff along with North Dakota State police and hired mercenaries of Dakota Access Pipeline (DAPL) and Energy Transfer Partner. 

“This is a day which will live on forever as militarized police attacked unarmed water protectors in the United States of America in subzero (-0) weather. Many people injuries ranged from being shot with rubber bullets on the water protectors back, hands, head, eye, and arm injuries. Many of the water protectors will never have full use of their body parts as they are maimed forever by rubber bullets and gas grenade.


“The militarized dressed sheriff, state police, and mercenaries were never charged with the use of deadly force against unarmed water protectors. The procedures prescribed for the use of deadly force has policies and procedures while shooting rubber bullets against people. Policies and procedures prescribed “Do Not Aim At Head or Genital Region.” Both the head and genital region were shot by the militarized dressed sheriff, state police and mercenaries. Clearly a violation of departmental policies and procedures.

“Federal lawsuits must be filed against those who injured unarmed water protectors as well as World Court Charges against Human Right Charges.

“May we laid tobacco this evening at approximately 7 pm (CST) when this attacked started on our water protectors on that fateful evening of November 20, 2016.

We Will Never Forget!

“=->>>—- Kenny —-.>

Today I received a message from my cousin Herb, who was there when this happened. His father and mine were first cousins and Herb, his wife Allane and Eric and I have become good friends as well as family.
In response to this post, he commented, “The night when the government did everything they could to escalate it to the next level. We came with Prayer and Song and stood our ground.”
A mutual friend and family member added this: “And we carried the wounded for many hours and then went back to the bridge the next morning (7:00am) and stood at the bridge when they tried to take it.”
And my cousin asked me, “Look at the wire and the concrete barriers. Does this remind you of another place that is happening Now?”
And yes, it does. Today Trump has given our troops, hiding behind the barbed wire on our southern border, orders to shoot anyone who tries to cross. I suppose this means no exceptions, including children.
And I asked Herb, “God, what is going on with our country?” I have only one answer: Trump.
Wake up America, or DAPL might happen in your back yard too.