Settling In Gently by R.A.Davis

It was our 6th anniversary last night and we indulged ourselves. For the first time in Rosie's 25 months of life, we left her with a babysitter and went out to dinner. It was sort of, totally, SPECTACULAR. Roy's Prix Fix tasting and Hawaiian menus. I can't really describe it, so here's my tone-poem, free-association, modern dance interpretation of the evening's partakings: snappy limu seeweed gelatinous sprigs, caramel sauce on meaty ravioli, crispy wontons with ponzu, flaky fish , sesame oil and chili edamame, filet mignon melting onto wasabi mashed potatoes, crisp fried lotus root salad, misoyaki butterfish, asperagus and mac nut crusted white fish, chocolate lava souffle and four delicate little scoops of tropical sorbets with tiny fruit cubes on top, all sworled with elegant dabs of flavorful reductions and sauces on wide plates, low lighting and the sharp awareness of a rare event combined to make a singularly ROMANTIC evening. Roymantic? Har har. I found myse...

Today we went to the beach with the playground to wear Rosie out a little bit (sun, slides, sand and surf, dude. It'll wipe anybody out.) We've only lived here since October-- that's, what, 7 months? We ran into four separate families that we know. And as the months go by, the island is only going to get smaller. Living here is my first experience with having to make a community work. Knowing that we're going to be here for a long time, with these same people, in these same situations, over and over-- makes me approach problems slightly differently than I've needed to before. My first example: the librarian is an SOB. He's notorious. Every parent on the island knows of him, and stays away from his library because he is so rude and HATES children. Every time we go to the library (every Friday, 11:30) he tells Rosie to "be quiet or get out!" This is especially annoying when she's saying things like, "Rosie! Loves! Libwawy!" I'm sorry, i...

This letter was published in The Garden Island Newspaper on April 8, 2009: Color blindness is wonderful When someone asks, “Are you haole?” I respond, “Why what I did?” When someone says, “What comes after two?” I respond, “Tree.” I now say “da” instead of “the” and always great people with a friendly “howzit.” I legally changed my name from James to “Kimo.” President Obama says there is not a White American or an Asian American or a Black America, there is only the United States of America. Color blindness sure is a wonderful thing, or should I say “ting?” James “Kimo” Rosen, Kapa’a Any guesses-- is this tongue in cheek? Is this a joke? It couldn't be-- could it-- for REAL? If it is... how is saying "ting" and "da" colorblindness? And what's the opposite of color blindness anyway-- colorseeingness? And since when is blindness of any sort a virtue? How about color-seeing-but-it-doesn't-adversely-effect-my-behavior-or-thoughts-ness?

Sunday morning, the choir stood in front of the congregation. The organ started up a four part hymn, and we sang along in four part harmony, reading out of our programs: Softly Blew the Breezes By Paul Carus and R.B. Bode Softly blew the breezes On that glorious morn In Lumbini's Garden Where the Lord was born. From the earth sprang flowers Birds in warbles sang While through earth and heaven Strains of music rang. Gods and men and angels All for worship came Glory to Lord Buddha Glory to his name. Organs and hymn harmony, folded chairs, and meandering talks by aged ministers are not the sole providence of protestant Christianity. At least in Hawaii, the sects of Buddhism that were imported with the Japanese plantation workers have morphed into something with plenty in common with the Baptist or Episcopalean churches down the road. George Tanabe gives a wonderful description of this Hawaiian Buddhism in his article, " Shaka Buddha ." Sunday was Hanamatsuri, Buddha's b...