Saturday, March 18, 2006

"Who did page A7?"

This is how my supervisor starts the shift, by asking who designed a particular page of that day's newspaper, and as soon as she says it I know I am likely in trouble.

Today it was the obituaries. Obituaries were the bane of my existence when I was a reporter typing them up on Saturdays and they are the bane of my existence now that it's my responsibiliyt to plop them all on the page. Don't get me wrong, I sympathize with the greiving relatives. I know they have to be grieving to include long paragraphs explaining how much so-and-so loved animals and how so-and-so's cats and dogs are going to be honorary pallbearers.

Monday, March 13, 2006

Home

At dinner tonight Grandma reached across the table and slipped me a fifty. She is always giving her grandchildren money, and telling them to eat more, more, more. My brother headed straight for the car afterwards and she found him, rapped on the window and demanded a hug. Grudgingly, he came out and hugged her. I don't think my grandma can sleep well at night without a hug from her family after a get together. I imagine she feels unsettled. As much as it can be frustrating and smothering, it's also comforting to have Grandma. To know I can be gone for months and come home and slip right back in.

Well put

The video montage has just ended, and the renewal of vows ceremony for Auntie Alice and Uncle Gary -- married 45 years to the day -- is about to begin. The music fades to silence. You could hear the person three seats down sniffling. Grampa chooses this moment to lean across me to address Auntie Ginny.

" 'Ey," he says, his voice booming in the sudden quiet. "Ginny, when we going eat?"

Seriously, though, I ended up enjoying the ceremony despite the fact that it took place at a New Hope Church and I found the whole thing to be ... sappy? OK, stupid. Pretentious. There was local food at the reception. A'ama crab, opihi, lomi salmon, sashimi, nishimei, squid lau lau. The list goes on and on and I tried to sample everything because I know I won't be here forever and I'll miss these tastes when I'm gone.