Shaken, Not Stirred

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         Shaken,Not Stirred
All of us remember the famous words spoken by James Bond, "Shaken, not stirred." We were led to think that he was talking about a martini. We were wrong, he meant riding the bus here in Honolulu. It is there that you get shaken, due, no doubt, to the many pot holes in the city streets. We have some of the worst roads in the country, but we also have one of the best bus services to be found anywhere.

Before I discuss busses and bus service, let me talk about bus stops. They are varied in number. Many have benches with an oriental- style roof, and many in the city are without benches. This is because the benches have been removed to prevent bums from sleeping on them. They are replaced with round concrete mushrooms. Two or three in number.

There are regular-size busses, and some double-size with an accordion pleat joining them together. It is fun to sit in the middle four seats, where the two parts of the bus is connected. When making a turn, those four seats revolve. Some of the busses have a bike rack on the front. It can hold two bikes. When you enter the bus you find that the driver has lowered it, making the bus level with the curb. A special feature on each bus is the front few seats can be moved upwards to accomomdate a wheel chair. There are also locking devices for the chair.

If you really want to see the ethnic mix of the people here in Honolulu,there are two places to go. One is Wal-Mart, and the other is the bus. Though sometimes really jam-packed, people are very nice and polite.

It is possible to take the bus all around the entire island. My friend Ray has made threats that one day we will jump on any bus, and keep making transfers, just to see where it will go. Also, senior citizens can buy a year-long pass for $30.00. Regular bus fare is now $2.50. Still, a good deal. Many people ride the bus, rather than own a car. Bus drivers are helpful, directing tourists to the proper bus. And, in conclusion I would suggest that you try and not get a seat directly over the wheels. Pretty bumpy there. Remember the pot holes and "shaken, not stirred."

           Aloha
           Grant

The Great Flood

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          The Great Flood
Unless you have studied Ancient History, you are probably unaware that there is another story of the flood as told in Genesis.

The Sumerians were ancient people who inhabited the land between the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers. This area is known as Mesopotamia,which means the land between two rivers as in modern day Iran and Iraq. This area is often rightly called  the "Cradle of Civilization." Very ironic when you consider what is going on there today.The Sumerians are responsible for creating 21 contributions to civilization. I can't remember all 21, but I can remember two. They invented writing, and the wheel. As great as the Inca and Aztec civilizations were, they never developed the wheel.

And, the Sumerians were the first people to both write and keep written records. There are historical records and literature. The writing is called cuneiform. The name means "Wedge Shape" from the Latin. Soft clay was  pressed with a wedge-shaped stick. Some of these clay tablets are very small, while others are the size of your hand, or even bigger. This writing can be read today.There is a long story called the "Epic of Gilgamesh." There are piles of these tablets, and many are to be seen in museums.
Now, at last, I come to my main point, and that is that these clay tablets contain a story of a man, like Noah, who experienced a great flood. The same story which is told in Genesis. So, the question is; is the story of Genesis borrowed from the Sumerian account, or is it simply another confirmation of the story told in Genesis?
At any rate,  one thing we do know, is that there was indeed a great flood. Archaeologists have confirmed this as a fact.

And, now on the lighter side, remember the funny telling of the flood by the comedian Bill Cosby?  God said to Noah he wanted him to build an Ark. Noah asks, "What's an Ark?"  Noah protests, and God asks him, "How long can you tread water?" If you have missed this, look it up, it's really funny.

      Aloha
      Grant

Two Old Poems

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           Two Old Poems

              Spring
        Frogs are singing
         spring is here!
You can see it in the buckets
of seeds in the feed store
Piles of green plastic hoses
swollen buds of maple trees
    and lilac bushes
    but outside it is
        snowing

     Planting Time
  Old timers say the
     best time
   to plant corn
is when the oak leaves
  are the size of a
   squirrel's ear
 I took my problem
to the local expert
in my front yard tree
He did most of the
    talking
but I did get a
good look at his
     ears

         Aloha
         Grant    

Footprints

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            Footprints
I got to thinking today that everywhere we walk and live, somebody has been there before. On my small acre of land, it must have been where Indians once camped. My land was somewhat higher than the surrounding land. And,I had a giant oak tree which when measured was 13 ft. in circumference. I had a set-to with a drunken farmer who rented the field next to me. He said that the tree shaded his corn. He wanted me to cut some limbs. I did not, much to his dismay.

One time I built a concrete form for a back step to the kitchen, and dug up several Indian artifacts. So my hunch was right. I remember too finding arrowheads in the field after a rain. The Wyandotte Indians had left their footprints.

Another time, I discovered a buried brass gunpowder flask, beside a wall of a shed. But alas, no rifle. I think that the powder flask must have hung on the wall of the shed, and the strap holding it was cut either by rats or the passage of time. Again, more footprints from a previous owner.

I have come to learn that the drunken farmer is gone, but so is that huge tree. But they are still alive in my memory, and now on the printed page and the internet.

      Aloha
      Grant
     

John Brown

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            John Brown
A woman I met last evening told me that the deed to her farm listed the fact that it was once owned by John Brown.This was the same John Brown who led the attack on the Federal Arsenal at Harper's Ferry. If you were not sleeping in your U.S. History class, you may remember that this was one of the big events leading to the Civil War. Remember the people called "Abolitionists," who wanted to abolish slavery? Sure you do, you were paying attention. John Brown, his sons, and a few slaves attacked Harper's Ferry Arsenal in order to get weapons, and arm the slaves. He was captured, tried and hanged.

With the coming of the Civil War, a Union marching song was popular. "John Brown's body lies a mouldering in the grave...but his truth goes marching on."

In Paris in 1926, an American poet named Stephen Vincent Benet, wrote a long poem called "John Brown's Body." It won him a Pulitzer Prize. He took as his subject the entire Civil War. Some of the poem is in rhyme, other parts are in blank verse. The war is seen through the eyes of some principal characters. There is a young boy named Jack Ellyat, who joins the Union Army. Then there is a Southern  planter Clay Wingate, who leaves his plantation a rides away to war. There is also a runaway slave,  and his adventures during the war. The poem deals with not only John Brown's attack and trial, but also the major battles, the final meeting with Lee and Grant, and the death of Lincoln. This is most excellent, and it is a treat for those of you who think that you don't like poems, but enjoy the history of the Civil War. If I had it to do over again, I would set aside the text book, and have my students read the poem. That is, if the school budget would allow it. And I am really glad I met that woman last night, which led my thoughts to this writing.

        Aloha
        Grant

Progress Report on MaiTai

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        Progress Report Mai Tai
          Peeing on paper    A
          Pooping on lanai   A
          Behavior            B
          Nipping            C
          Jumping Up         D
          Plays alone        A
          Sleeping           A
          Playing Ball       A

Comments:   Plays well with others.
Mai Tai needs to stop nipping and jumping up.He also must stop putting his head in the shower while the water is running. Fighting the towel while being dried, is something he needs to work on. But, all in all an excellent start.
                Mr. Smart

Christmas 1944

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           Christmas 1944
Why am I writing about Christmas when there are palm trees outside my window? It is because a writer should write about what he knows. And, this is something I know and remember.

           Christmas 1944
It is December 1944, and I was eight years old. My sister was four. My father was in the Army somewhere in Europe, fighting the Nazis. My mother was teaching school in a nearby town, and rode the bus each way. She received a monthly allotment check from my father.Her  brother Tom, was in England flying for the R.A.F. Her other brother Sam was in the Navy, and because of a bad leg, was stationed in the States. My grandfather was on the Draft Board. All up and down our street there were banners with stars on them. One star for each man in service. There were gold stars for those who had been killed.

Our house was typical of those in the neighborhood. Four rooms and an outhouse. There was also a basement with a  coal furnace.

We were invited to my mother's parents for Christmas. We were also to see my two aunts and  my two girl cousins. A sad Christmas to begin with, what with all the men absent.

We were to ride the bus to the grandparent's house. Busses and trains at that time were always crowded. The bus company had added aisle seats. Folding chairs that came from an aisle seat, filled the center of the bus.

I remember that we didn't stay all that long. There seemed to have been some kind of argument. I never knew what it was all about. Anyway, crying, my mother scooped up my sister and we left the housee. And we     walked in the snow to the bus stop.

Arriving home late that night we were greeted by a dark silent house. Once inside, we could see our breath. The coal furnace was cold. My mother and I broke up crates for kindling.Newspaper supplied the flame, and when the fire was going well,a few lumps of coal were placed on top. It took quite some time before we were able to remove our coats and the house became warm.

There was nothing in the ice box for Christmas dinner,except for a bottle of milk, a block of margarine, and a few eggs.
My mother had anticipated that we would enjoy a good meal at her parents. So far, things weren't looking so good. Even if she had enough ration points to buy some meat, the butcher shop was closed, as it was Christmas eve.

But then our next door neighbor came to our  rescue, for our Christmas dinner. He was a coon hunter,and he skinned a coon he had   killed.The carcass of that raccoon became our Christmas dinner. My mother had always been an excellent cook, and so we ate well, I think.

My father didn't have a very merry Christmas that year either. He told me later that they were retreating from the Germans during the "Battle of the Bulge." Everything, including Christmas boxes were thrown out from their trucks as they made their escape.

And now years later, when I went with my friend Ellis, coon hunting,I often recalled that Christmas dinner. Funny thing though,  I have never again eaten raccoon.

         Aloha
         Grant

Mr. Fuzzy Britches

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          Mr. Fuzzy Britches
First, let's get one thing straight, my name is not Mr. Fuzzy Britches, or even just plain Fuzzy Pants. My name is Mai Tai, and I am named for a popular drink here in Hawaii. I sometimes wonder the way people name dogs.

I like my new home, it's high in the air with a great view of the ocean. My house is just the right size, with windows, a zipper roof and a zipper door. One time recently I did something bad, and the Mr. unzipped my roof, and dropped me in. He zipped it up, and I calmly walked out the door. Sure fooled him.

I am sometimes put in my home when they think I have been bad. But it's no  big deal, because that is where I sleep, on the floor alongside Mr. and Mrs.

The food is pretty good here, but the treats are even better. I know two ways to get them. First, the easy way. Just do something cute, or just make yourself adorable. And it is easier on the legs.The second way is a bit more difficult. You have to chase a damn ball down the hall, and return it in your mouth. Did they expect me to bring it back in my paws? And then there is the matter of eyesight. Most people don't realize that all dogs are far-sighted. They can't see anything under their noses. Maybe they all should wear glasses. I saw a picture of a dog once, wearing glasses, and he looked crazy. But drop a crumb on the floor a long way from me and I can spot it in a minute. And another thing,anything that falls on the floor is mine!

I have heard of some people having a"chip on his shoulder." They can sometimes get rid of it. I can't.The Mr. and Mrs. took me to the Humane Society, where a chip was put under my skin between my shoulders. It didn't hurt a bit, and I'm glad so that if anyone steals me, I can be found. Now that's love.

I think I can get more treats from the Mr., but the Mrs. gives me the best belly rubs. She takes me out on the lanai in the morning so I can pee on a paper pad. So far I can poop on one place  on the lanai. I will be glad when I can go outside for my first walk. I have to have two more shots first.
It will be nice to pee anywhere just like other dogs. My Mr. says that the whole world is our restroom.

One thing I dislike is fireworks every Friday night. It makes me afraid. I shake  and my heart beats so fast. But the Mr. holds me tight and talks to me softly. It makes  me feel better.

There is one thing I am trying to figure out. The Mr. gave me an ice cube to play with. But it vanished after a time. I have checked the corner of the kitchen many times, but I can't find it. What do you suppose happened to it?                  

          Aloha
         Mai Tai

A Flock of Cranes

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          A Flock of Cranes
The Building Crane is Hawaii's new state bird, and its nest is Honolulu. New condo building is taking place at an alarming rate. Older buildings are being knocked-down, and are being replaced with tall high-rise condos. A few short years ago, next door (two acres), there were mango trees, a seedy night club, a lingerie shop, and a parking lot for taxi cabs. Now there is a condo with glass walls.  Our building is 38 stories. Our new neighbor  is just as tall. You would be surprised to learn that it takes only two years to build one of these.
It's getting crazy. When the " developers" advertise the building of a new condo, it is often sold-out before construction has begun. I kid you not! I think it is like buying "a pig in a poke." There is one new condo soon to be built, and the prices run from a low of 900K to 10 million!!
And all of you who have visited here, remember the International Market, and King's Village? They will soon only be a memory. The market will be built around the huge banyan tree, and will include a Sax Fifth  Ave.  Just what we need.
Also, just in front of the Ala Moana Mall, new low rise luxury condos will be built. The situation here is being compared to Hong Kong, where the same thing is happening.
Those of us who live here have some concerns.  Every new building will require electric power, then what about sewers, water, and parking garages.  People who buy these luxury units will want a car. This will add to the terrible traffic jams we have on our few roads.  The intra-structure of Honolulu was never designed to meet this kind of a demand. "Developers" come here from the mainland, build condos, and then leave with their money.
I should also note that there is  shortage of affordable housing for average family. It is the rule, rather than the exception, that working people here hold two jobs, in order to survive. There doesn't seem to be much interest in building low-cost homes. Not much profit there.
But we must remember the "Golden Rule," the one with the gold, makes the rules.

           Aloha
           Grant
   

Loyalty

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              Loyalty by Grant Smart
Maybe you remember reading in 1974, that the last Japanese imperial soldier surrendered.  I remember, and recently read in our paper that he had died in a hospital in Tokyo. We here in Hawaii have very close ties with Japan, and so it was not surprising that the event was carried by A.P., and printed here.
The soldier's name was Hiroo Onoda. He had been ordered to remain in the Philippine jungle and spy on the Americans. He was in hiding for 29 years.  Attempts to have him surrender failed, loudspeakers and dropped leaflets were ignored.  He came out of the jungle only after his former commander flew to the Philippines and reversed his original order.  He emerged on his 52nd birthday,  wearing his patched  uniform, cap, and carrying his sword.  During WWII, Japanese soldiers were taught absolute loyalty to the nation and the emperor. He was 91 when he died.

           Aloha
           Grant

It's Not Your Big Mac

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       It's Not Your Big Mac
No, it's a Ramen Burger.  Just when you  think that you have seen everything put in a burger bun, now there is this new creation. It is a burger sandwiched between two ramen noodle patties, seasoned with a soy sauce glaze, topped with green onions and arugula. It has caused a mild sensation here in Honolulu. More than 300 people lined up, and 700 were sold.  Customers waited as long as five hours to buy one at $10 each.
The inventor of this burger was a former computer programmer, named Keizo Shimamoto. And, if you think this is strange, guess again. The ramen burger is being sold in U.S. cities, New York, Chicago, L.A., and San Jose, California.

          Aloha
          Grant

Big Rapids, MI, circa 1946

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       Big Rapids, MI ca. 1946
      What I remember most about those years so long ago, is the deep silence of a summer night. Smoking with my friend, Richard, and only the red glowing tips of our cigarettes betraying our presence.   It was dark in the shelter of the courthouse, with only the shell and powder can from the battleship, Maine, to keep us company.
      The most important stop on a Halloween night was the home of the wealthy oilman, Top Taggart. The butler would come to the door carrying a silver tray covered with dimes.  He would hand one dime to each kid.  But,  after a while,  and an exchange of costumes, the house was attacked again.
      It was called Phelps Free Library, and today it is a museum, featuring the collection of Jake Lightfoot.  When I knew him, he was an old man and janitor in the Taggart Building downtown.
As a small boy I had the grandiose idea that I would build a backyard barbeque.  My red wagon was used to haul loads of bricks rescued from a demolished building.  Several trips were made to my building site.  I then needed cement, and that was when  I met Jake.  He took kindly to my project, and gave me a bucket of cement.  As I got to know him better, he would talk to me about the Spanish American War.  Unfortunately,  all I have managed to remember is that he told me their heavy blue shirts were very hot to wear.  He also said that the bacon became rancid in the heat. He never mentioned if he had killed a Spaniard or not.   The brick barbeque turned out looking like a cake whose frosting squished out between the bricks. Years later, I stil remember Jake, and his kindness to a small boy.

              Aloha
              Grant
   

Big Rapids High School ca. 1953

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    Big Rapids High School ca. 1953
      "What was high school like back then?" the boy asked.
      "Well, as I remember we had a real good time.   The high school was on a slight hill on U.S. 131, across the street from the Dairy Queen.  When it opened in summer you could buy a milkshake for 25 cents."
      "That's pretty cheap."
      " But it wasn't back then.   I had a paper route that paid me five dollars a week."
       "But what about the school?"
       "Well, you had to buy your books at the bookstore in the school.   I remember it cost me $12.00 for the year, and I always tried to get good used books."
       "But get on with it, what about sports?"
       "We had football and basketball."
       "What about swimming?"
       " We didn't have a pool.   At the end of the football field there was a a large bell held up by bricks which was rung by our team as each player passed under it."
        "That sounds pretty cool."
       "Basketball was played just as you play today, except that girls played only half-court.   And after each football or basketball game there was a record dance in the gym."
      "We don't do that today.  What about homecoming?"
      " For homecoming the freshman class was charged to build the bonfire.   Every year the freshman class tried to build a bigger one than was built before.   The whole town was searched for cardboard boxes.  The huge pile was built just below the school, and when it was lighted, a firetruck stood by."
       "That  must have been something."
       "Yes, it was, and that's not all.  We made a snake dance."
       " What's that?"
       "We all joined hands and went up the hill into town and wove our snake in and out between parking meters and formed circles in streets where they came together."
       " That sounds like a lot of fun.   What else did you do?"
       "Well, we had political rallies."
       "What was that?"
       "The students divided themselves into two political parties, called the Congress Party, and the Independent Party.   Paper badges and posters were made.   There were speeches, and the band divided to support their particular candidate.   Then everybody voted."
      "Wow! that must have been really neat."
      "We also had an annual musical show called  the "Band Follies.  There were plays too."
      "We have plays too.  Did you have driver training back then?"
      "Yes, we did.   We learned on a Ford, with a manual shift, and the car had dual controls for the teacher."
      "We don't do that."
      "We had to drive around in first gear for some time.  Then shifting into second gear, after another week."
      " That's pretty dumb."
      "Maybe so, but have you ever tried to ease the clutch and give it the gas while on a steep hill?"                  
     "No, I haven't."
      "I think they make it too easy for you kids today."
       " It looks like you danced a lot.
       "Yes, I suppose we did.  You must remember that this was just after the war.  We were still dancing to the music of that time.  This was just at the end of the era of the big bands.   We had Ray Anthony and his band in our gym, and he led the bunny hop all the while playing his horn.  Other bands rode their buses into town and played either at our school or at Ferris Institute.  I also saw Jimmy Dorsey and Billy May, and their bands."
      " I have heard of them."
     "It was a good deal for the bands, because sometimes they would spend two nights in town.
     " What sports did you play?"      
     " I didn't, because I had a heart murmur.  I sang in the choir, danced in the Band Follies, acted in the drama club, and was a projector boy."
      "What's that?"
      "A few boys were trained to thread and operate 16mm movie projectors.  We took them to class rooms and operated them for teachers."
      "No t.v.?"
      "No, not yet, just slides."
      "What subjects did you like best?"
      " History was my favorite, and I enjoyed typing class.  We typed on upright machines, and it was difficult on winter mornings to get your fingers working."
     "We don't do that anymore."
      "Yes, I know."
      "Were you guy always so good?"
      "Of course not, we smoked and had a beer, if we knew someone who would buy it for us."
      "No pot?"
      "No, not back then.  Cigarettes were cheap, and easy to buy. My father would send me to the store for a paperback book and a pack of Camels.   We didn't know about the danger of smoking back then."                    
      "I don't smoke."
        "Good for you, it's a nasty dangerous habit."
         "Anything special you remember?"
       "Yes, the "Swing Out Assembly.  It was the first time seniors would appear in their caps and gowns.   Students had assigned seating area, juniors on each side, sophomores in the rear, and seniors in front.    Everyone was seated and they marched in and took their seats.  The class shovel was presented to the president of the junior class."
        "That must have been pretty emotional."
        "It was."
       "Is there anything else you could tell me?"
        "Oh, there is a lot more, but I'm pretty tired now."
            Aloha
            Grant

Climb Every Mountain

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          Climb Every Mountain
     Well, not really, but how about one?   Here in Hawaii on the Big Island is the mountain known as Mauna Kea.   Its altitude is 3,730 ft. And, it is the home for several large telescopes, operated by scientists from many nations. Tours are given to visitors outfitted with heavy clothing etc.  Short busses with four-wheel drive are used.
       My friend, Gary Owen, had attempted to get to the summit, but was forced back.  He was determined to reach the top, but not in a tour bus.   He formed a two-man team expedition.  Gary, as director, photographer, and transportation and I would be responsible for picture composition, and expedition recorder.
      Our first task was to gather supplies for our expedition. We filled a small cooler with two beers, four bottles of water, a chunk of Swiss cheese, and some soda crackers.
     Our climbing attire was shorts, tee shirts,walking shoes and sandals.  Gary chose a sweat shirt, and I an unlined light nylon jacket.
      Now, feeling fully prepared, we left our base camp Kona, and  began our assault in our light weight Ford pick-up, with its stick shift. No four wheel drive.  As we began our climb we came  across two very dead mongoose, and also a goat that didn't make it across either.
      The paved road gave out and turned into a corduroy dirt road, with a sign telling us to stop for information, so we didn't, we pushed on and up.  The road was nothing but a series of bumps.  Gary shifted from second gear down into low.  The air began to grow thinner and I hung on for dear life.  As we continued to climb, I saw on my left a drop of thousands of feet below, and on my right, great piles of stone. Gary steered with one hand and fought the shaking gear shift lever with the other. The truck sometimes moved across the road and back again.
      At long last we met pavement, and saw before us the dome-shapes housing  the telescopes.  We had arrived!!!  I felt as if we had reached to top of the world at almost 14,000 ft.  My thought turned to the film "Titanic," where the couple on the bow of the ship felt as if they were on top of the world.
     There were only three or four cars present.  I spoke to a fellow who had a walking stick and a back pack.  He said it was his plan to climb some thirty mountains, and he had already climbed twenty.  We felt bad that we failed to get his name.  I saw him dark against the sky for a moment, and we were too late for a picture.
     The wind was blowing and the sun was bright as we looked down upon the clouds. The air was thin, and somewhat difficult to breathe.  I seemed to remember that you should have oxygen at 11,000 ft.   Gary made a snowball.  I put it in my hand, and he photographed it.   Then I gave it a toss.  He gathered more snow for our cooler.  I composed, and Gary took more pictures. We discovered that the Keck Observatory was only open during the week.  It was a good thing too, I thought. It was time to begin our descent.
      Our way down was in low gear, and we rode the road easily. You all remember that you should use the same gear going down, as you did going up.  While basking in our glory, we ate our lunch, and visited the visitor center and gift shop.  The expedition was a complete success.
      In closing this report, I should mention that I have some things in common with Sir Edmund Hillary, who first climbed Mt. Everest.  I climbed Mauna Kea.  He was a bee keeper, and so was I.  
             Aloha
             Grant
       

Exploring the Universe

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       Exploring the Universe
We should all remember how our understanding of the universe was greatly increased by the discoveries of Copernicus and Galileo.  The Earth was not the center of the universe, but simply revolved around the sun.  The Catholic Church persecuted Galileo, and forced him with the threat of torture, to recant.  But, under his breath he was said to have remarked, "Nevertheless, it is so."  Armed with his telescope he also observed the rings around Saturn.

I was reminded of this when I saw recently a photo of the Earth taken from Saturn. A big ball floating alone in space.  And, we have been to the moon, and Mars is being explored.

When I was up on Mauna Kea recently, I bought a CD showing the sky as seen by the Keck telescope. It is astonishing, the vastness of space, the billions of stars, the bright colors.  All who have viewed this DVD, agree that it is incomprehensible.

Shortly after returning from my trip up to Mauna Kea, a local t.v.station had a short clip about replacing mirrors on the telescope. Very difficult operation, and no room for any error.

And, now I read in the morning paper that the largest telescope in the world will be built up on Mauna Kea. The mirror will be about 100 ft. in diameter, and it will be housed in a dome 180 ft. high.  Construction will begin in April and completion date is 2022.   Cost $1.3 billion.  Project design and financing from TMT, a non-profit corporation, along with Canadian Universities, and scientists from Japan, China, and India.

Not everyone here in Hawaii is pleased with the erection of this new telescope.   Some Hawaiian students and faculty are against the project.   They say that Mauna Kea is sacred, and should be respected.   But with this new telescope scientists will be able to explore forming galaxies at the very edge of the observable universe, near the beginning of time.
So in conclusion, "Hey, universe, here's looking at you."
                Aloha
                Grant

After the Fire

      More Letters From Paradise
           After the Fire
The fire must have happened sometime during the war.   Ferris Institute, founded by Woodbridge N.Ferris,(sp.?) was a pharmacy college.   It was located in the city of Big Rapids, Michigan.    The old brick building lay in ruin, but not far distant, the single-story yellow brick building was spared. This was I think, the alumni building.

My friends and I were bent on investigating the ruins, and see what treasures we might find.   After sifting through the ashes, we returned home with our glorious plunder.  There were large beakers, small beakers, both florence and erlenmyer flasks, ring stands, and bunsen burners without hoses.   We had struck paydirt.  Our Gilbert chemistry sets were fully augmented with our new equipment.  But, alas no retorts.

Following the fire several wood barracks were built to house the college.   The new and first G.I. Bill was made available to all returning servicemen and women.  They received checks from the government for going to school.  It was the opportunity to earn a college education.  Those returning G.I.'s attended Ferris Institute in barracks.   How ironic it must have seemed to them.
These new students were housed around the city in various homes.  They were known as "Pin Heads," by the local kids. Why?  Who knows?  My father was one of those students.

My parents had an old house at the corner of the Methodist Church and Rogers Funeral Home. Probably again due to the G.I. Bill.

We had two servicemen staying with us.  They  lived upstairs in a couple of rooms, and slept on surplus Army bunks.   They took their meals out.  There were a couple of restaurants a block away in town.  I think one was called the "Coffee Cup," and the other was a Greek owned restaurant called "Sellas Restaurant."

At our house on Friday nights my mother would invite the boys upstairs to come down for some cake or  pie, and coffee.   It was one big "Bull session."   Stories were swapped about their experiences during the war.  This was also when I heard some of my first dirty jokes.   I wish I could remember some of their war stories.  The jokes have been recycled I'm sure.

These G.I.'s were responsible for bringing some of the big bands of the time to our city.   Jimmy Dorsey, Ray Anthony, Billy May  and their orchestras played at Ferris, as well as at the high school.   I remember seeing the large busses they arrived in, and we danced to their music.

My mother had a degree from Adrian College, and had taught school during the war.  She was proud that she taught some college classes in those barracks.

Once, some time ago, I visited Big Rapids, and found that Ferris Institute is now a sprawling state university.   But this was what it was like just after the war.

           Aloha
           Grant
 

Adventures with Wine

      More Letters From Paradise
        Adventures With Wine
As a kid growing up, I never knew much of anything about wine. My family was not Italian, and we didn't live in California. There was always some "hard stuff" and beer, but never any wine as I recall.

There were a lot of things that I didn't understand as a kid, but fermentation was something that I did understand. My friends and I consumed six-packs of fermented beverage as often as we could get it. But strangely, never any wine. Some cheap wines were "Night Train," and "Thunderbird." The very titles suggests what they must have tasted like.

My first brush with wine came when my mother decided to can some grape juice. She canned the juice in quart jars with the old zinc caps with the glass liner. The jars were sealed with a rubber gasket. Understanding the process of fermentation, I decided to convert grape juice, which I thought was highly overrated,into wine. So I pulled the rubber gaskets on several jars and then departed.

Some months later, my friend Bill, and I were putting on some brake shoes on his car,  and it was in the fall of the year. It was cold working in the driveway. We decided to test the grape juice. Soon were laughing silly, and it was a wonder that we got the brake shoes on his car.

My next bout with wine was while I was in college. I was just out of the Navy, where again I consumed other beverages than wine.  I began to drink wine, and soaked off the labels of the different wines. They looked nice on the wall of the rented kitchen apartment.

Then the guy in the apartment above suggested that we make some wine. He had some connections in the railroad yard, and we made off with six or eight lugs of grapes. I think that they were Muscat and Zinfandel grapes. Then we bought a used whiskey barrel, two small green plastic tubs, some plastic tubing and rubber stoppers from the chemistry department. Also some glass tubing from the same source. We also paid a buck each for nine five gallon glass jugs. Today, the same size jugs are plastic and cost a whole lot more. Our final purchase was a plastic shower curtain. We were donated nine baby food jars. Having assembled our equipment, we then washed our feet and began to trod our grapes. It was a nice feeling under your feet. The smashed grapes were put into the barrel and left to ferment. Later, we put the juice into the nine glass jugs. Rubber stoppers with bent glass tubing  were put into each jug and into baby food jars filled with water. This  was to allow the fermenting gas to bubble through the water and escape, but did not allow any air to reach the wine.

So much for the process. When the wine settled and there were no bubbles to be seen, it was time to settle down and begin the long wait. Did we wait? We did not. I don't think that wine ever made it to Christmas. We did bottle some and put some labels on, but it was all over too soon. I sometimes wonder what that vintage October would have tasted if we hadn't been in such a rush.

Another time while I was at a bullfight in Madrid, I had another encounter with wine. This time the wine came from a wine skin handed to me from the guy seated next to me. I accepted his offer and held the skin out at arm's length, applied pressure to the skin, and shot a thin stream of wine into my mouth. I was wearing white shirt and there was not a single dribble. He was impressed, but he did not know that in college at that time we were drinking from these wine skins called a "Bota."  You never see them anymore. It's so sad, they never broke like bottles, were easy to carry etc.

And thinking more about wine I am reminded of an early statue of Michelangelo. It is called "Baccus," the god of wine. It is a youthful figure of a boy with grapes and  leaves in his hair, and holding a wine cup. You can tell by the pose that he has had more than a little wine.

The ancient Greeks and Romans drank a great deal of wine. The Greeks mixed their wine with water. This was done so it was refreshing, and nobody got drunk. The wine was mixed in a krater. This was shaped like a bucket. Drinking was done from a shallow plate-like cup with handles, called a kylax. I'm glad that the Greeks chose to dilute their wine, otherwise we might not have had the great glory that was Greece.

And you may have heard that it is said that "good wine never travels." That is true, and it is because the wine you tasted in France or elsewhere, is not the same wine. I read recently that a couple visiting a vineyard were told that they had a "Parker  Barrel." This was their very best wine and was saved for this wine expert named Parker, to taste. This guy goes around tasting and rating wines. A wine with a Parker rating of 9 is supposed to be an excellent wine. That which you buy here, might not be the same wine. Remember,"let the buyer beware."

Some people I know are "wine snobs," and only drink wines with a pedigree. Here in Hawaii our tribal group has a tribal wine, called " Paisano," from Carlo Rossi, and it comes in a jug. Paul, a tribal member from California, introduced it to us. It's a red wine, smooth without any dry tannan, neither too dry or too sweet. We enjoy it. Our friend Lori, refers to it as "that swill." And those of you from California, know all about "Two Buck Chuck," another cheap, but good wine.

And another thing. The next time some Frenchman, or salesman puts his nose up in the air, remind him that over 90 per-cent of French wines are all grown on California vine root stocks. There was a disease that attacked all vineyards in France. Sorry, I can't locate my notes on this.

I would urge everyone who likes wine to visit some vineyards. Sonoma and Napa wineries for example. New York State and Michigan produce some fine white wine. We are now also able to buy from some very fine wines from Chile, Argentina, and New Zealand.  
I continue to wonder how that 1963 October  Muscat-Zinfandel would have tasted today.
            Aloha
            Grant

Among My Souvenirs

      More Letters From Paradise
        Among My Souvenirs
Have you ever heard of a "Long Chong"?  I doubt it.   Some G.I.'s in the Pacific during WWII, made them.  They took foreign bank notes and taped them together end-to-end.  Names and addresses,  phone numbers, and other information were written on them.  The bills were then rolled-up, and put away.

I was given a Chinese bill from the father of a friend of mine, and I carried it in my wallet for years.
 
Japanese rifles were very crude-looking.   Rough metal work, and poor quality wood, which clearly showed the lack of materials available.  You could buy one for a few bucks, or you could rent one during deer hunting season, for $3.00 a week.  German Mauser rifles were excellent, and had been used during WWI and even before.  They were often easily converted into deer hunting rifles.

My father had some worthless German marks, with which he said he would paper a wall.  There were also two large-size books with pasted-in photos of Hitler holding a child, or feeding a deer.  A German "War Bride" translated the books and said they were awarded to high-ranking Nazi officials.  There were also Nazi arm bands, medals, and three pistols.

Soldiers and Marines in the Pacific also sent home Japanese Samurai swords.   Esquire magazine had a feature story saying that many of these swords had been in Japanese families for generations and were very valuable.  These had been in Japanese families, and handed down from one  generation to another.
I once owned two of these swords, but of very common quality.  I also had a collection of Tsuba, Japanese sword guards.   Some dating back to the seventeenth century.  I needed money while in college and had to sell them.
                   
The men fighting overseas sent a lot of stuff back home.  At my house, I was sent a German helmet, and my mother received  some dishes. My father let me clean his German Lugar pistol.  He had a pile of worthless German marks, some tied with the Bank of Berlin paper band around them. He said that he wanted to paper the wall of some room with them.

After my parents separated, all of this disappeared.  I do have a photo album of the European theater of the war.  Also, a couple of felt patches, corporal stripes, an enamel Nazi pin, and a G.I. sewing kit. That's all.

You know, maybe it is just as well. Wars are an extremely bad example of human behvior.  Millions dead.  Why is it that warriors always carry away their trophies?