What A Year

Today marks my first 12 months on Maui.

In past blogs, this has been an opportunity to reflect on what I've done and learned over the past year, and where I think I'm going in the year to come.

For the former, I've explored beaches, water sports, and most of the major cultural activities on Maui.

I've volunteered for environmental groups, walked a 10K for whales, and participated in this year's Women's Walk.

I've consulted on a film company's website, an animal sanctuary's communications, and written a dozen or so short stories with five published since this time last year and at least three more coming out later this year.

I've enjoyed the best mangoes I've ever tasted straight off the tree in the back yard, a visit from my family, swimming in the warm ocean, and discovered a fascination with sea turtles.

As to the latter, I have no idea. We might end up back in California. Or the Pacific northwest. Or Austin. Or Mexico. Or we might still be without job prospects by our self-imposed June deadline, and end up crashing with my family in Virginia till we find our way again.

 

Without spending too much time dwelling on the lessons learned during lockdown, I will say that I've now spent 12% of my time in these tropics staring at our inside walls, and missing the things I would miss anywhere:

• the freedom to hang out in the sun
• the ability to wander through parks and museums
• the fun of window shopping
• the chance to relax with good food and maybe some live music
• the joy of greeting strangers, acquaintances or friends with an open laugh and a handshake or hug.

Larry and I had long talked about living on an island. Now that we have, pandemic notwithstanding, we can happily say we've done it. But truthfully it's not for everyone, and, as it turns out, not for us.

Not yet.

I, for one, feel like I still have much to conquer and more that I want to offer before settling comfortably into the lovely yet hyperlocal world around us.

So, this will probably be my last post until we figure out when, where, and how our next world will open up for us.

Till then...Aloha. Mahalo. Stay Safe. Stay Hopeful.

The New Normal

The new normal. Everyone's wondering what it is. How is life going to look after lockdown? Because even though people are talking about "BC" (before coronavirus), there is no "AC." And probably won't be for a long time.

image from theconversation.com

I should interject here and say this post is assuming you're in an area that's practicing more stringent safety protocols. If you haven't been stuck at home for the past three to four weeks with at least two more weeks of increasingly limited contact staring you in the face, you may wonder what all the whining is about. Even so, I guarantee that some part of your world will eventually be impacted.

I watch TV shows or commercials or pictures on social media now and flinch when I see big groups gathered or strangers shaking hands. This summer I'm supposed to go to Paris for a week with my mom and my sister. It probably won't happen, but if it does, will it be ok to hug them?

My mom is a healthy 70-year-old but she'll be going home to my dad who is 73 with some health issues. And my sister has an autoimmune disease. The thought of being with them but keeping my distance is painful. But not as painful as the possibility of lowering my guard and unwittingly infecting the people I love.

(Once scientists started talking about asymptomatic transmission of COVID-19, I thought about season two of "The Walking Dead" when we discovered that everyone becomes a zombie when they die, whether or not they've been bitten. So, without sufficient testing, I'm basically just assuming we're all infected with the coronavirus by now.)

My sister sent us a picture of her in one of her masks, saying that a woman in the grocery store complimented her on it. "I guess that's the new normal," she concluded.

Alien fans unite! Now THIS is a mask I'd love to have...

I guess it is. Because if humans are anything, it's creative and adaptable. As the mask game continues to step up, I'm sure high-fashion protective gloves will sashay along any day now.

I admit I like the give-people-space and wait-your-turn approach to shopping, although there are still those jackals that don't pay attention because they're focused on themselves above all else. But if social distancing becomes the norm for museums and similar cultural attractions, I'm ok with that.

Concerts and sporting events and movies are a different matter. These are gatherings designed to give you a sense of community because of a common appreciation of what you're about to experience. Literal scattered applause for a show does not sound appealing.

But what about the important stuff? All those folks who were invisible and taken for granted BC--what happens with them? Will people shut up and give these essential workers the pay and benefits and respect they've deserved all along?

Will schools go back to teaching "shop" and "home ec" because, hey, turns out those skills are still relevant for survival? And will people stop looking at teachers like they're glorified babysitters?

An empathy card by Emily McDowell. I think 
a lot of people can relate to this sentiment right now.

Are we truly entering a work-from-home revolution, or will things bounce largely back to the way they were before?

I know tourism will eventually rebound but what will it look like? And a lot of visitor-dependent small shops and restaurants here on Maui have closed and may not reopen. What happens to those folks?

Will people remember that not everyone has technology at home for online access and take steps toward parity?

Will the impact on communities of color and rural outliers change our approach to healthcare for these populations and our overall preparedness for future pandemics?

Of course, I don't have the answers. Nobody does. Except for one thing:

Will the people who are stuck with the supplies they hoarded learn a lesson? They're not quite as bad as those COVID-19 scammers, but no, it seems there will always be people seeking to profit off the vulnerability of others.

And right now we're all a bit vulnerable. So it seems like this would be a good time to keep asking these bigger questions and working toward solutions.

Not AC. Not when the people who are nominally in charge have a sense of control again and the people whose lives are most at risk or disrupted are tossed aside and forgotten until the next time.

There is no "bright side" to a situation so dark. But there is an opportunity to do more of what we've seen. To take better care of ourselves and those around us. To realize how interconnected we are and to do the right thing by each other.

Fear makes us say and do stupid things. But it's not the time for pointing fingers or pointless arguments. Like I said in my last post, we're either in this together or we can step aside and watch another species rise to the top.

That's it. That's our future. It's our choice about where we go next. Right now we may feel a bit powerless, but soon it will be time for our thoughts and voices and hearts and hands to shape the new normal.

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Although it may feel like it, this is probably not the beginning of the apocalypse. What it should be, however, is a wake-up call.

Every time there's a crisis we get the same set of stories: The kind-hearted souls on the front lines /giving generously / making sacrifices to help others; the disbelievers and conspiracy theorists; and the people who callously take advantage of others' misfortune.

But this is different. Some have likened the COVID-19 pandemic to a war. But no one alive today has fought a war on U.S. soil. Most of us don't know about sheltering in place and rationing appropriately. And we don't do marshal law and social restrictions.

Image from knowledge.insead.edu

It's what makes us the dream to achieve, and the real-world nightmare we are right now.

Our country has certainly taken its image hits. With so much Americanism infiltrating the globe it only makes sense there's schadenfreude when we slip and fall.

But do we have to be so...American about all this?

My chief point of contention is the US v. THEM mentality:

• Trump's characterization of this as a "foreign" or "Chinese" virus, like it has citizenship and a passport. 
• The "I'll get mine and everyone else can fend for themselves" hoarding mentality at our already-overstocked grocery and warehouse stores. 
• Here on Maui, the online comments following every article about the spread of the virus: the only cases are from travelers, ban everyone from coming to the islands.
• The abhorrent "Boomer remover" mentality. Other nations are much more respectful to their elders, and rightly so. Some day, young Americans, you, too, will be old. (Unless, of course, you insist on partying during a pandemic and contract, say, a potentially lethal virus.)

I'm not here to offer a solution. In reality, I don't think there is anything to be "fixed." Some of these traits are inherent to humans no matter where they are. Yet we are who we are--love us or hate us--because we live in a country that speaks up and acts and has the freedom to do so loudly and often.

But we can be better. We can use our power for better.

Some are. Like I said, there are plenty of heartwarming stories about people just being people. There are stores setting aside hours for the age group most vulnerable to this virus to shop in relative safety, with fewer people around. There are folks in my neighborhood volunteering to run errands for others or just talk to them so they're not alone in their isolation.

That's humans, in a nutshell. We are the good. We are the bad. We are the ugly.

This is the latest pandemic, but it won't be the last. This virus doesn't care about borders. It has us shutting in and shutting down and shutting out, but that won't stop climate change water rise and future adaptive illnesses.

One day we'll open the doors to look for help and find ourselves alone.

Now is our chance to band together in our isolation. We may not be giving balcony concerts like the Italians, but we have other ways to give back and bond with each other. We have the choice to be a distributed community instead of colonies of soloists.

The alternative? After the next few pandemics or disasters or global events, or the next, we humans will end up as a footnote.

It Ain't Over Till...

Well, it's official. We've been sitting on a bubble for the past few weeks and this week it finally got popped.

The funding for the startup that brought us here has been cut.

What we found out weeks ago was that the work would be canceled, but whether that happened with the then-current milestone or the next milestone was TBD. Now it has been determined to be the present milestone, which means the team's work stops at the end of this month.

Obviously, with the axe hovering, Larry had already started the hunt for the next interesting thing. Given the instability of the video game industry, he's also looking at engineering and testing roles in other areas.

And speaking of "other areas," we moved to Maui knowing there was a severe shortage of appropriate roles for either of us here.

In fact, for Larry this was it. And outside of a couple of contract jobs working at home, I've had no luck finding a job locally in content/copywriting that didn't involve a resort.  (No, thank you.)

So, moving on to another position for Larry will also mean MOVING ON.

I'm a tiny pot of big emotions about the whole thing. This will certainly be my shortest tenure in a place since college--I don't even know if I'll hit the year mark on Maui. (As I write this, 54 days and counting to get there.)

We've also agreed that most, if not all of our stuff will go away (depending on where we move next). Logically/financially, that makes sense. Emotionally, that's 20+ years of nesting to get rid of. (And get over. Given that I wrote about it in this blog and my Hamburg blog, no simple task.)

While I refine lists and we process options and get ready for the stress and the last-minute rush that always comes with these transitions, this is my roundabout heads-up that this blog will be coming to an end sooner rather than later.

Like everything else, the timing is uncertain. We'll see what the next few weeks hold in store...

Always Running A-fowl

Our neighbors across the street have a pterodactyl.

At least that's the conclusion I came to shortly after I moved in. And I've been listening to the thing screeching a few times a day for most of the 280 or so days since.

I figure it's not outside the realm of possibility, given the Jurassic-like forests here and on the rest of the islands. Still, Larry thought I was crazy because the thing never squawked when he was around. 

But he's also the one who at one point remarked, "There are no birds here." So I think we can agree his powers of observation are flawed. 

Because there are birds everywhere. 

I'm not even counting the omnipresent roosters, hens, and chicks. If you've been to Maui you know what I'm talking about. 

They're constantly strutting through neighborhoods, darting across streets, and strolling through shopping center parking lots. 

(And contrary to what you've been told, roosters as alarm clocks is a fallacy. They crow whenever and however often they like.)

The Polynesians who settled Hawaii brought junglefowl with them. Europeans brought domestic chickens. Several cultures brought fighting chickens. The birds bred and were released or escaped and now there is a strong population of feral fowl all over Maui.

This was a recent posting on Craigslist

But there are also the egrets I see every morning on my walks, the doves that are constantly stalking across our yard, and the only birds remotely approaching the number of feral chickens--the myna birds.

I set up a bird feeder many months ago to keep the cats entertained, so we get a steady stream now of sparrows and finches. 

I'm no ornithologist, but I know Maui is an important migration stop for birds. Recently, I've seen a growing number of cardinals.  A few months ago, I visited the Kealia Pond National Wildlife Refuge; a protected wetland area with an ever-changing population. I saw an early-season black-crowned night heron and was super excited.

This must be what real bird-watchers feel, I thought.

It was almost as exciting as taking my penguin-loving friend visiting from California a couple of weeks ago to see the resident penguins at the Marriott resort. 

That's right, seven penguins living in an open enclosure in the hotel lobby!

So whether they were brought here or made their way here on their own, it's obvious Maui is as much home to feathered friends as it is to the rest of us. (Despite Larry's blinders.)

Oh, and the pterodactyl? 

Larry says he caught a glimpse of a supersized parrot-like creature in a large cage on that neighbor's front porch. Given that their front porch is hidden behind a forbidding wall of foliage, I remain unconvinced.

Then again, it's Maui. Anything's possible.

Pōpolo

Last May, a few weeks after I moved to Maui, I was at Safeway in line to check out. There was a German couple in front of me and I was a bit lost in thought about how my worlds kept intersecting. Then the cashier, an older African-American man, asked me how I was enjoying my visit.

"Oh, I live here," I said.

With a look of shock, he asked, "How long have you been here??"

I told him it'd only been a few weeks. With a look of relief he said, "Oh, ok, because I haven't seen you around."

A couple of weeks ago, I volunteered to be part of the break-down crew for the annual Whale Days festival. While I was hurrying from one finished task to find another, I was intercepted by two young African-American women I'd seen in passing earlier in the afternoon.

We introduced ourselves and talked briefly about our Maui experiences and, as they were leaving, they noted that "we just had to find you and say hi. You know, when we see one of 'us'."

"The blacker the berry..."

Pōpolo is endemic to Hawaii and 

the Hawaiian word for black people

There have been smaller but similar incidents in between these two. And though I'd wondered and then shrugged it off before, the question finally got to me:

Just how many black people live on Maui that folks are keeping track?

According to the last census: 0.8% of the population in Maui County (that's across four islands, three of which are inhabited), is black.

With an estimated 165,000 people in the county, that's a population only about 1.5 times the size of my high school graduating class.

African Americans came to the islands in the 1800s like so many others to work the plantations. Although the labor conditions may have been better, social conditions for blacks here were said to be little better than they were in the mainland south.

And, of course, it's a LOOOONG way from the support network that most African Americans cultivate.

Hawaii is known for its multicultural makeup. Centuries of international immigrants have resulted in a unique melange that defies easy classification.

A scholar on African Americans in Hawaii wrote, "never underestimate the racial complexity of modern Hawaii." Reportedly, in the 1940s, the local NAACP chapter's members were mostly identified as Japanese, not African American!

I've spent most of my life living as an "other." I don't get as much of a sense of that here because there are so many brown people around. But I realized that when I see other African Americans walking through downtown Lahaina or at one of the resorts or on the beach, I assume they're tourists.

At best, it's my own acknowledgment that not many non-Asian/Polynesian people of color live here. At worst, it's an ugly accumulated bias.

Every day this month my sister has been emailing our family blurbs about notable African Americans. It's been a great opportunity to learn and be inspired, especially in these uncertain and seemingly intolerant times.

I'm trying to learn more. The list of famous Hawaiians is not long, and the list of famous black Hawaiians seems to start and end with Barack Obama.

But I discovered that there's a monument here on Maui to honor African Americans in Hawaii. So, a visit to that memorial park is now on my Maui bucket list.

Because it's good to know the history of the place where you live. But it's even better when you can find some sense of self to help you proudly find your place.


Happy Black History Month!

Whatever the Weather

We're two weeks into the new year, and I feel like we're finally two weeks into winter here. Because just a month ago I probably would have titled this blog post:

Whatever. The Weather.

Paradise is great. Until it's not. There are subtle changes to the landscape throughout the year, but the weather? Not so much. Perfection can be a bit...monotonous.

To be fair, the temperatures have cooled a bit over the past month or so. And I appreciate how the clear skies and isolation made it possible for me to see the SpaceX Starlink satellites on my early morning walk a week ago. (If you haven't seen them, check out this video. It's really rather freaky to look up and see this moving across an otherwise dark sky.)

But what I've enjoyed most this year so far has been the rain. So far we've had nearly five straight days of it, and even though Maui has been under flood watches and brown water warnings, the rain has tamped down wildfire concerns, enabled the upcountry part of the island to lift drought restrictions, and brought some variety to a seemingly endless summer of weather.

I'm going to credit the recent rains for the glorious sunrise this morning

And unlike our time living in sunny LA, where we were amazed to find the city slide into panic when water fell from the sky, it's business as usual here. With some precautions.

I volunteered for a reef-protection planting project last week but roads around the planting site were impassable, so we shifted focus to make repairs at the nursery site. (Wind gusts accompanying the rain were up to 80 mph a couple of days last week!)

Last weekend, Larry and I went on a night snorkeling trip. Of course, we were in the water so wet from the rain wasn't so much a concern, but winter brings big swells. Thankfully the water was calm and clear and we got to see several eels, an octopus, and (my favorite of the night) a large porcupine fish.

Me,after my morning walk
a few days ago

A screenshot of the forecast,
seconds after I came inside
from 45+ minutes of rain

Who knows if the coming days will be equally clear or bring more storms? (Inaccurate rain forecasts are just as baffling here as I've found them to be everywhere else I've lived.)

But just these few days with different weather seem to have woken me from a stupor. Now I feel ready to take on the challenges of the new year/new decade!