Fear the Crab

For anyone here with even a passing interest in professional sports, the impetus to choose a franchise to root for can sometimes involve complex mathematical calculations. Hawai`i is not the only state without a professional team, but unlike states on the continent, neighboring teams aren’t a simple stone’s throw away.

I think many people here do follow certain teams based on proximity. California can be considered the “closest” neighbor, and by consequence a number of professional teams in that state have been “adopted” by Hawai`i locals. I know a telephone book’s worth of people who cheer for the NFL’s Oakland Raiders, and an equal number for the San Francisco 49ers. The Los Angeles Lakers in basketball is always a popular choice.

Baseball seems to have a more widespread audience here. I’m not sure if it’s a result of the long history of little league baseball in Hawai`i, with its tradition of borrowing professional names like Cubs, Reds, and Pirates. It seems likely that you might have some kids who would turn to the professional teams for inspiration. However, I played little league, and I didn’t find myself cheering for my team’s professional counterparts.

I’m sure popular culture goes a long way in attracting the fair-weather fans. I’ve seen many Yankees and Red Sox hats being flaunted about. Basketball jerseys from the Spurs, Suns, Cavaliers, and Heat are worn both on and off the court. Football apparel from the Eagles and Patriots seem quite popular.

I haven’t mentioned the possibility that people who move to Hawai`i from other states bring their favorite teams with them. The sheer number of transplants from military assignments alone is enough to bring a diversity of die-hard fans, and it is only added to by the amount of people who come to the islands for their own personal reasons.

I was asked why I chose the teams that I follow, and with one exception, my choices were made by video games:

~ Tampa Bay Buccaneers: I’ve liked this football team since they wore the creamsicle colors and were the laughing stock of the league. For those two reasons, I chose them when I started to play Tecmo Super Bowl III, because I liked whooping ass against the stronger teams. The Bucs have since strengthened my commitment with a Super Bowl win.

~ Detroit Red Wings: There aren’t a lot of hockey fans in the islands, and I won’t go into the many theories as to why this is so. Despite the lack of media coverage here, I’ve liked the Red Wings because of their long history as one of the Original Six. Their logo and simple color scheme of red and white is probably the cleanest and most recognizable in the sporting world. My appreciation for them was solidified in part by NHL 2K, where it became VERY easy to distinguish the many players on the ice. I’m quite happy that they’ve just won their 11th Stanley Cup.

~ Seattle Mariners: The only team I cheer for NOT decided by video games. I started to follow the Mariners from my college days at Puget Sound in Tacoma, and Seattle was the state favorite. I entered into the mix with players like Ken Griffey Jr, Randy Johnson, and the iconic Jay Buhner. I had long hair at the time, and it was always a joke that I would attend one of the games on “Buhner Buzz-Cut” days to get it all shaved off.

Represent!

There have been a rash of murder-suicides here, and by rash I mean maybe two or three in the short 5-month span of 2008. This is what the media would have me say, perhaps illustrating a growing problem in the islands concerning domestic violence. Whether or not that is a responsible statement from the press is a different subject altogether, since it’s difficult to label the two murder-suicides as a reflection of a disturbing trend in family relationships.

Instead, I have been contemplating the community reaction to such events. It is interesting to see how one family’s hardships garner a greater response than another’s. One of the recent families affected by a murder-suicide has received a tremendous amount of help and support from the local community, including monetary donations from restaurants and funds set up for the orphaned children. There has been extensive media coverage, typed and tubed, about the aftermath and everything going on.

Yet I know of two families similarly affected that have received nothing. Only a brief report describing the crime itself made print, survivors listed, and cursory interviews with neighbors. One family lost the father, not to murder-suicide, but straight murder, and the three kids got no help (the mother died of cancer, I believe). The other family was an actual murder-suicide, and the orphaned child has Down syndrome, and he got no help.

Why the discrepancy? It’s nice to know that of the two latter families, the kids are doing all right and making their way through the world, despite the pain. Yet what is the deciding factor in whether or not the community helps to support the displaced?

I was recently made aware of an allegation that someone advised the first family to contact the press about the situation. Perhaps that prompted the media to consider it a worthwhile story to pursue, and as the story was aired, the sympathies of the community were drawn to the grief the family was going through. If this was the case, is the decision to notify the press a matter of familial pride? Is it a matter of how the family prioritizes its needs?

Consider that in the case of the first family, it could be said that the relatives have no problem in saying, “We need help. This was a tragedy and the kids will have a hard time taking care of themselves, so please give us your support.” Whereas in the other family, relatives have taken the position of, “This is a tragic affair that we don’t need to dwell on, that we don’t need other people to know about. Let us move on and do our best to work things out.” One is a position of internal solidarity, the other is of reaching out and asking for help from complete strangers.

I’m not inclined to say that either position is the right one. I’m sure there are benefits and detriments to either, and it is up to each individual who reads about these things to decide which path to follow; that of actively helping the affected, or doing nothing. It is also impossible to expect people to be consistent in their dealings with tragedy. I’d find it hard to believe anyone could afford to give $5300.00 to every single needy family, when there are so many out there that require assistance. So it stands to reason that a generous donation of support is given when one can afford the time or resources, to whomever happens to be the focus of attention at that time.

I just find the dichotomy intriguing. What causes one person to tell all, versus another that keeps quiet? I am finding the moments where some receive help whilst others don’t to be a case of the former being squeaky wheels. Perhaps the latter consider themselves the standing nail, who do not wish any kind of hammer to fall, even if that hammer were made of money.

Or maybe the simile of a hammer striking down hard is a bit too reminiscent of the horrible events that preceded.

I think there is a difference between sons and daughters, in terms of following orders from parents.

If the mother says, “Go with your father to his doctor appointment,” the son will dutifully accompany the dad to the office. There, the son will sit in the waiting room and watch cooking shows, read magazines, or listen in on one-sided phone conversations from the receptionist, whilst the father goes in to see the doctor. Once the session is finished, both father and son pay for parking and leave, figuring out what to get for lunch.

However, it seems that when the mother asks that the son go with the dad, what she is really saying is, “Go with your father, sit in the doctor’s office and listen to what the doctor has to say.” In other words, the son is supposed to act as reconnaissance, after which he is to relay all relevant information so that the mother can be assured the father isn’t lying.

When the son returns home, he will be asked, “Did you go with your father?” and the son can truthfully answer, “Yes.” However, the next question then becomes, “What did the doctor say?” To which the son would reply, “I don’t know, ask Dad.”

Daughters apparently have this inherent ability to append unspoken addenda to verbal requests, and by some indications it is not limited to bloodline. Both Maile and The Kimberly seemed to know that physically sitting with my dad when he got his imaging results was what I was really supposed to do.

Yet the failure of my inability to properly decode the secret order is chalked up to my not listening. Excuse me, but from what I understand, the idea of successful secret codes is that the decryption keys are pre-arranged. It does no good if the recipient of said secret codes cannot decipher and reveal the hidden messages, much less so if he is not made aware that codes are being issued in the first place.

The trouble is, therefore, not in the fact that I wasn’t listening (I was, technically, listening quite perfectly), but that my orders were not properly worded to give the correct meaning and intention. Maile says that it should be common sense that I “know” what my mom was intending.

I contend that common sense in these circumstances is like being asked to buy milk from the market, and going after the brand that’s on sale, or the carton that has a longer expiration date. I should not be chastised for buying 2% over Skim or soy over cow, when such important decision-making factors were not disclosed properly before said excursion.

I have noticed a disturbing trend amongst the fund-raising groups scattered across the island, particularly the small informal organizations like community sports teams or private dance troupes. The trend seems to center around camping out at a busy intersection, stand on the medians and corners with hand-held fishing nets, and literally beg for cash.

If I remember correctly, this method of fund-raising started with firefighters in California. I don’t remember the exact details, but because it’s a firefighter organization raising money for something other than their own personal pockets, I can get behind it and would willingly donate. On Oahu, the Hawaii Food Bank holds an annual drive-by where you can hand-off small cans of food or cash into their waiting nets.

Now it appears as though everyone and their mothers (literally) are hitting the streets soliciting money. If you’re stopped at a red light, these beggars will troll the lines of cars hoping to see a window roll down and a wad of greenbacks come tumbling out. Sometimes they give you looks as they pass by you and get nothing in return.

Meanwhile you have more of the group on the sides, holding signs that ask you to support their team or troupe. Okay, fine, at least I know who’s getting this money, but now I don’t know what the money is for! Do they have to buy new uniforms? Are they taking a trip to national competition in someplace like Colorado? Or is it, like the case of one local little league baseball team, to help pay for the parents of the players to fly to a tournament?!

Even if I’m made aware of what the money is for, why the hell should I give my hard-earned cash over to some bloke who’s not even working for it? All they’re doing is standing on the side of the road, begging for a handout! At least some homeless dudes might offer to “work for food” (though lately even some of the homeless have turned to outright begging). I’d better see some kids on the side doing some cartwheels or performing some kind of dance routine. Put on a show, sing some songs, do something to earn this money.

There are still groups who do the time-honored traditions of candy-vending or car washes. These groups earn a little less of my ire, but there are still areas where I wish they’d put in a little more effort. I’ve had kids and some adults come to my door and just ask if I want to buy some chili tickets. Okay… thanks for telling me who you are, first, and what this is for. I usually turn away these vendors, even if I really really wanted what they were selling. I’d rather wait and give the money to someone who deserves it.

The amount of consideration I give to a fund-raising offer is a direct result of the amount of effort said fund-raising group is willing to put into the sale. I’ve bought sweet breads, discount cards, chili tickets, and candy from well-spoken representatives because they bothered to sell me the goods. They told me who they were, what they were selling, what the money was for, and how much it was.

I’ve been through the work of fund-raising. I’ve had to go door-to-door and vend my fair share of huli-huli chicken, chocolate-covered almonds, M&Ms, and Zippy’s chili. I’ve had to raise money for little league baseball uniforms, intermediate band trips, elementary school JPO trips, and karate dojo activities. I would sell maybe 1 item per every 10 houses, but at each one I would introduce myself and state what I was selling and why.

It was hard, yeah, and I would have rather been playing in the street than going door-to-door, but motherfucker I worked. The least some of these groups could do is the same.

On Friday, my dad told me he was diagnosed with prostate cancer. Six months ago he was fine, but between then and now he went from a 0 to a 4 on the 5-scale of cancer-ness. I don’t know what the 5-scale means, but in terms of severity, it’s pretty bad.

He has to go in for another series of tests later this week to determine the extent of the spread. I suppose those results dictate the number of options available, such as the possibility of surgery or radiation therapy. Someone told me if the tests show that the cancer is isolated, there’s a good chance they can remove it and increase the odds of survival. My dad feels this cancer is extremely aggressive, given its sudden appearance, so he’s pretty much resigned to the fact that it has spread. That basically shortens his life span dramatically.

It is, of course, a shocking turn of events. It was just this year that he moved into a new house, built from the ground up, to provide comfort and mobility to my paralyzed mom. This year he watched his eldest son get married and legally start a family. Now it seems like he won’t be able to enjoy the new house. He wonders if he will be alive to see grandchildren. He says he has some regrets, that he didn’t fulfill some of his life goals, but that right now he’s looking ahead, making sure things are put into place or set in motion that will address any long-term goals, or handle short-term affairs.

Outwardly, he’s expressed this concern for the well-being of my mom. She’s confined to a wheelchair and needs 24-hour care, so if my dad has to undergo any kind of treatment that leaves him exhausted or weak, a caregiver will have to be hired. He does have family help from my aunts, but they’re no spring chickens, either. A live-in nurse of some kind is required, at least for the physical care.

The worry my dad has over my mom is understandable; he’s had to care for her since the car accident 10 yrs ago left her paralyzed. And it’s fine that he wants to spend his energy on her. It just might give him a purpose, a reason to continue fighting this cancer. It’s a hope that everyone has, and while he tries to prepare for the worst-case scenarios, he shares in that hope.

He just has to let me, or other people in the family, spend our energy on him. I tell my dad that he can worry all he wants, he just has to let me worry about him. It’s a lot easier to prepare together, as a group, than it is by oneself. I learned that just through the planning of my wedding.

Let me drive him to his appointments, or maybe take care of whatever paperwork needs taken care of. I can buy dinners or pay bills so that his limited income can be reserved for treatments and medicines. And hey, if the results come next week that the cancer did not spread, and surgery is able to take care of things, and therapy is enough to put it into remission, the time everyone spent will not have been wasted.

It’s like in baseball, even though the pitcher is the only one that throws the ball and starts the play, he still needs a catcher at the plate, fielders at his back.

I’m not going to just sit on the bench and watch him struggle on the mound.

There are quite a few men out there in the world that strike me as being attractive, whether physically or in terms of character. Not to say that I would go on a romantic cruise and stroll hand-in-hand down a tropical beach with said person, but I think any reasonable, sane, well-adjusted individual would agree, at least as far as opinions can go, that there would be something worth mentioning.

Let’s say that some guy were to tell me that Alan Rickman was a rather dashing character, I would consider it to be true. It doesn’t mean that we’re ready to drop trow and open plow; it just means we’re engaging in a very reasonable discussion about the qualities and characteristics of a person whom we find to be either desirable or downright cool.

I think I like Harrison Ford when he was a younger actor, as I have fond memories of his portrayal of Indiana Jones and Han Solo. Of course, from my perspective, it was a very good foundation for the transition into the older roles Ford played later on, since he got… well, older. I’m very interested in the newest Indiana Jones movie, particularly because of this transition; Indy is definitely older, so it would be interesting to see how the character has evolved, and continues to evolve, on screen.

I realize that I’m more fascinated with the fictional character rather than the actor himself. I do find that the role and the portrayal are synonymous, since Ford will probably forever be known as Indy, and no other portrayal of Indy by any other actor will feel the same.

I’ve never met many of these people, obviously, but judging solely on what little I can see or read, I sometimes can take smaller bits of a person’s whole and find that little part to be attractive. For example, Brian Viglione of The Dresden Dolls has one of the more expressive faces I’ve seen in a while, especially when he performs. His features, with or without makeup, are such that sometimes I wish I had those qualities, because then I’d be just as expressive, too.

I do dig the look of singer/songwriter Voltaire, especially his hair. There are times I want my hair to be like that, but usually I’m too lazy to put in the work to keep it that way. Maile mentioned that she wanted my hair to look like the cover of The Devil’s Bris for our wedding. Of course, she also mentioned this AFTER the wedding.

Eddie Izzard is another chap who looks good in makeup, and apparently whatever he decides to wear. I’m not so much keen on his appearance, though; rather it’s his humor, his character, and his ability to talk that makes me think I’d like to spend a day listening to whatever he decides to say.

Speaking of listening, Kevin Smith and Scott Mosier are two more cats that I could sit and listen to all day. Actually, not just listen, I think I could actively engage and participate in an elaborate discussion about the whimsies of daily life. Judging from their histories and general topics of conversation, I find myself almost ready to jump in with my own two cents (whether or not they’d appreciate it is not subject to the bounds of this daydream).

I could probably think of more, but it’s too early in the day.

I had these thoughts during a chat session. I was at work, which is why I was chatting in the first place. Mind you, this is an abridged version, not an actual transcript of the conversation, but I think the gist of it still comes across. The statements in parentheses are those issued by other people. Mine are in quotation marks.

(maybe a little exaggerated with the US, coz the media is constantly broadcasting everything that’s happening, and giving it its own flavour, I did honestly think the govt responses were slower than my own hometown, and the shooting was just plain ridiculous.)

“Sometimes people just have to realize that the rest of the world is watching what you do and judging you.
The hypocrisy of the US is that we judge everybody, even our own, yet we hate being judged.”

(hmm.. oh well, isnt that wat everybody does?)

“Not to the extent that the US does it. We judge other nations, tell them they’re evil, or poor, but we say “screw you” to the UN when it tells us we’re doing something wrong.
The govt response was horrid, the shootings were insane, but the relief workers who were there instantly deserve credit.
In any crisis, when we look to the actions of the “little people” we see tremendous courage. They’re not doing it for political gain or global status.
The good people attempt to work with what they have left and provide as much as they can. They don’t say “We don’t have helicopters because so-and-so used ’em in another country”
They don’t announce the shortcoming and blame it on someone else. They just act.
The govt response was slow, I think, because people were trying to explain why things failed, instead of just “doing” things.
Just once I wish I could see someone in power say to reporters, “I can’t talk now I have to go rescue people!”
Or turn to the camera crew/reporter and say, “Instead of filming me, why don’t you lend a hand?”
I’m sure if we all saw that clip on tv, we would think that guy is pretty serious about the situation.”

I dunno. It was just something I was saying, and I felt I should write it down.

I will never again say that someone in a shit job needs to just go and find another job. Someone in my online class posted that kind of response on the discussion board as we went over the trend towards outsourcing and problems with companies like Wal*Mart. The person who wrote that statement is young, and pursuing a first degree, so it’s a bit understandable to have that perspective. Maybe in ten more years this person will understand a bit more.

This is what I wrote in response:

It’s not that easy to just up and leave one’s job. Maybe because of youth, we feel we have endless possibilities ahead of us. Yet different circumstances apply to different people. A student fresh out of high school may not warrant a high income, but for some the extra income is necessary. I know of people that have had to work full-time in order to afford attending schools like LCC or KCC. They had the crap jobs, they were abused and taken advantage of, but if they didn’t work they couldn’t go to school and wouldn’t get that oh-so-important bachelors.

We continue to think of the US as a land of opportunity, but the freedom to change things often requires a solid support system in back of us, whether it be financially, or emotionally with a strong family. Some people don’t have access to that kind of luxury, and must deal with the lot they’re dealt here and now. One of my best friends lost his parents (one to a murder-robbery), his relatives are unable (or unwilling) to support him, and he is now responsible for paying a mortgage. He can’t afford to attend a community college; he can’t afford to even buy a car. He works in retail, as a waiter, and for a time as a delivery driver just to make ends meet. To deprive him, and others, of at least a fighting chance is hypocritical and callous.

I used to feel that if someone didn’t like their job, they should quit and find another. I was fresh out of college when I thought that. 7 years working in retail taught me just how shallow my perceptions were. I was able to get out because I had support. My friend is still working there. I try to help him out when I can, but there’s only so much that I can, or should, do. Of course, going further into that delves into a different topic (you know, the whole man and fish adage).

Still, it’s something to think about. The next time you see your waiter, say please and thank you. The next time you see the stockboy or sales clerk, say please and thank you. Don’t think that because they’re miserable with their job that they’re just lazy they haven’t found anything else. If anything, you’re the one that made them miserable. Going further into that delves into a different topic (you know, the whole unto and other adage).

For more, visit Waiter Rant. Much credit goes to this writer for forming the words to the concepts many of us can’t seem to express. I know this writer has opened my eyes to a much wider perspective; even though it was always in me, these writings brought it into focus.

This morning as I was walking to work (the Office), I saw a girl in front of me slip and fall. She landed on her tush, full leg extension parallel to the ground. She was too far away for me to catch her, unfortunately, and even if I were close enough I probably would have burned her with the cigarette in my hand.

The thing that struck me most, however, was the fact that none of the other twenty people around her didn’t stop. They just kept walking, some of them not even giving her a glance. It was rather sad.

When I got to her, I asked if she was all right. To which she replied that she was, thank you. She didn’t appear hurt, more embarrassed than anything. You could tell she was embarrassed because she kept trying to clean her hands.

Of course, she was wearing these stiletto heels whose points were no bigger than the diameter of a pen cap, so I suppose it would have been inevitable that she would fall sooner or later. The sad thing is that regardless of when she would fall, nobody would help her.

You’d think that in a place like Hawai`i, there’d be at least some sentiment to help.

Uber boring. I was in a bit of a bad mood, too, because some of my co-workers are idiots. I shan’t get into the details because that will only serve to make me more upset, but suffice to say that some people only seem to be able to do one thing in life, and they can’t even do that well.

There was redemption afterward, however. I stopped by Maile’s house to visit her, and a hug from her made everything go away. So much so that I’m actually awake and chipper like a good little boy, and I have Maile to thank.

Tomorrow bodes to be a better day, I think.