" A Rolodex is a rotating file device used to store business contact information. Its name is a portmanteau word of rolling and index and desk. The Rolodex holds specially shaped index cards; the user writes or types the contact information for one person or company onto each card. The cards are notched to be able to be snapped in and out of the rotating spindle. Some users tape the contact's business card directly to the Rolodex index card, or a plastic or vinyl sleeve in the shape of a Rolodex card to place the business card within. Some companies produced business cards in the shape of Rolodex cards, as a marketing idea.The Rolodex was invented in 1956, by the Danish engineer Hildaur Neilsen..." - Wikipedia
Yesterday was a day for checking in with people, face-to-face. There was a book and a book mark to pass along to a young woman beginning to make her marks. The book was Braiding Sweetgrass written by Robin Wall Kimmerer. When I gave the book away I knew that I'd remember the many times I read the beautifully woven words of the Annishnaabe-Potawatomi teacher, writer and scientist. The story of Aster and Golden Rod. A couple tears leak just thinking about the lesson of Witch hazel. I relish the connection of White man's foot print to the plant we call Laukahi. Robin Wall Kimmerer is a storyteller on many levels at once: scientist schooled in class rooms and laboratories, indigenous daughter remembering to remember who her people are, poet and writer translating with a broad heart and well-tuned ear, a mother and daughter who loves both those roles, a teacher vibrant in her knowledge and open to keep learning.
The book I left went with a metal book marker. "It's been around," I said. Decades earlier I sent that book marker to my mother when I was a young woman living far from the home place. It is shaped in the design of the ulu or bread fruit. To Hawaiians the ulu is a symbol of growth; and is one of my favorite starchy foods. It's ulu season right now back in Hawaii. I see the many pictures of recipes for dinners on one of my teacher's FB page. I drool at each new dinner, and think "Soon. Maybe soon." My favorite way to eat ulu is to slice it in half or quarters if it's really big and bake on an oiled baking sheet until the flesh is soft and the cut part toasty brown. Delicious with butter eaten alone like kalo taro or potatoes; or made into a recipe like suggested below.
Yesterday was a day for checking in with people, face-to-face. There was a book and a book mark to pass along to a young woman beginning to make her marks. The book was Braiding Sweetgrass written by Robin Wall Kimmerer. When I gave the book away I knew that I'd remember the many times I read the beautifully woven words of the Annishnaabe-Potawatomi teacher, writer and scientist. The story of Aster and Golden Rod. A couple tears leak just thinking about the lesson of Witch hazel. I relish the connection of White man's foot print to the plant we call Laukahi. Robin Wall Kimmerer is a storyteller on many levels at once: scientist schooled in class rooms and laboratories, indigenous daughter remembering to remember who her people are, poet and writer translating with a broad heart and well-tuned ear, a mother and daughter who loves both those roles, a teacher vibrant in her knowledge and open to keep learning.
The book I left went with a metal book marker. "It's been around," I said. Decades earlier I sent that book marker to my mother when I was a young woman living far from the home place. It is shaped in the design of the ulu or bread fruit. To Hawaiians the ulu is a symbol of growth; and is one of my favorite starchy foods. It's ulu season right now back in Hawaii. I see the many pictures of recipes for dinners on one of my teacher's FB page. I drool at each new dinner, and think "Soon. Maybe soon." My favorite way to eat ulu is to slice it in half or quarters if it's really big and bake on an oiled baking sheet until the flesh is soft and the cut part toasty brown. Delicious with butter eaten alone like kalo taro or potatoes; or made into a recipe like suggested below.
Ulu (click here to read about Cooking with ulu)
Before Pete and I left the Sunday Farmers' Market we stopped to chat with folks and bought fresh vegetables: cauliflower grown by Fred, Kabocha squash grown by Brian, and a big bag of Green Beans grown by Emma. I left with a good feeling, simple connections made face-to-face. While I write Emma's beans are cooking in an inch of water. A pan of chicken drum sticks bake in mushroom broth topped with brown rice and a healthy sprinkle of dried herbs. We will eat well tonight. It's our wedding anniversary today. Lucky 13 by the books, and an even luckier 22 including the practice years.
Emma's beans topping off a colander of our Gravenstein apples
Just before sunset yesterday we made another connection with a double Capricorn pal, fittingly a lover of goats. We could hear the bleating from the pens. We'd brought a bag of over ripe plums for the goats but learned they're too sweet for goats. Instead of overripe plums they ate hay. Once the goats were fed we humans climbed the slight incline to the house.
We were dropping by to share applesauce freshly made the night before with those Graventsteins hiding under Emma's beans. A small loaf of ground turkey meatloaf plus a delicious plate of sliced cucumbers, a soup of curry made such a wonderful early Fall supper. Our meal was enhanced with the company of a sweet Labrador, a very sassy but friendly kitty and a handful of very hungry Yellow Jackets. In some settings the company of Yellow Jackets would freak people out or bring out the spray can. Neither action happened yesterday. Instead, the Yellow Jackets were fed on separate plates, at the far end of the picnic table. "Cover the meatloaf for a few minutes," our friend said. Distraction tactics. It worked. Over the course of our meal and between the lively and heart-felt exchanges of conversation the Yellow Jackets remained diligent in their love of meat. Turkey. Once engrossed with their bits of meat they did not bother with us. What amazed us was was not only their concentration but their ability to lift at least their weight in turkey and fly off to some unknown destination. Ever seen a Yellow Jacket lift off with turkey? It's something!
In addition to the applesauce and meat loaf we brought a Red Envelope filled with two very special offerings: a large vintage safety pin, and a business size card imprinted with one of my favorite 'Olelo No'eau Hawaiian Proverbs. The safety pin has been a long time emblem of my connection to my Ma. Helen Mokihana Calizar was our family Safety Pin Queen. She inspired a respect for common magic and the efficacy of the simple tool that held her shorts up, and substituted for a button. (I taken to the habits myself) When I needed medicine that would reach places a prescription couldn't my mother left me a safety pin on the floor of the Langley post office. That pin fueled the first of many Whidbey-influenced medicine stories. The imprinted card reads: ʻAʻohe hana nui ke alu ʻia. No task is too big when done together by all. -If everyone contributes to the task, it lightens the load. Our friend has been very generous in her contribution to lighten our load as we navigate the way to Elsewhere. Passing along a favorite book and a cherished memento, sharing time, good conversation, hearty laughter, food and the Red Envelope are old fashion, 'Roledex moments'. Know what I mean?
Just before clearing the table, we heard a familiar sound. Familiar yet so long ago I felt my heart pinge. "Yah, it's the neighbor's cows." Pete remembered how his uncle used to call the cows to be milked. I didn't remember where that sound took me when I heard it until we were driving down Maxwelton Road and took a left at Ewing. "I haven't heard that sound since I was a kid back in Kuli'ou'ou Valley. Costa's Dairy." That memory was sucked so deeply away.
As we walked back to the Subaru we kept telling stories and laughing about the way life unfolds in impossibly unpredictable fashion. Pete was talking about the most recent twist of events involving his truck, Bernadette and his friend and mechanic. Somewhere in the tale his mechanic was hunting for a truck part (old truck parts). This sort of hunt is not done on the Internet; these parts have to be collected by the elite underground of old truck people. When Pete's mechanic showed up at let's say, the Everett parts place, he heard, "Let me check my Rolodex." Like old-fashion Wednesday night Bingo at Rosehill Pete's mechanic knew he'd struck the mother lode.
I'm guessing most of you holding the 'aha have more Rolodex moments. Just for fun, we'd love to hear 'em. Life gets pretty hairy and too serious too often. On our anniversary, how about a few Rolodex moments.
And to the Goat Woman and the Mechanic ... thanks a million!
xoxo
Mokihana and Pete
In addition to the applesauce and meat loaf we brought a Red Envelope filled with two very special offerings: a large vintage safety pin, and a business size card imprinted with one of my favorite 'Olelo No'eau Hawaiian Proverbs. The safety pin has been a long time emblem of my connection to my Ma. Helen Mokihana Calizar was our family Safety Pin Queen. She inspired a respect for common magic and the efficacy of the simple tool that held her shorts up, and substituted for a button. (I taken to the habits myself) When I needed medicine that would reach places a prescription couldn't my mother left me a safety pin on the floor of the Langley post office. That pin fueled the first of many Whidbey-influenced medicine stories. The imprinted card reads: ʻAʻohe hana nui ke alu ʻia. No task is too big when done together by all. -If everyone contributes to the task, it lightens the load. Our friend has been very generous in her contribution to lighten our load as we navigate the way to Elsewhere. Passing along a favorite book and a cherished memento, sharing time, good conversation, hearty laughter, food and the Red Envelope are old fashion, 'Roledex moments'. Know what I mean?
Just before clearing the table, we heard a familiar sound. Familiar yet so long ago I felt my heart pinge. "Yah, it's the neighbor's cows." Pete remembered how his uncle used to call the cows to be milked. I didn't remember where that sound took me when I heard it until we were driving down Maxwelton Road and took a left at Ewing. "I haven't heard that sound since I was a kid back in Kuli'ou'ou Valley. Costa's Dairy." That memory was sucked so deeply away.
As we walked back to the Subaru we kept telling stories and laughing about the way life unfolds in impossibly unpredictable fashion. Pete was talking about the most recent twist of events involving his truck, Bernadette and his friend and mechanic. Somewhere in the tale his mechanic was hunting for a truck part (old truck parts). This sort of hunt is not done on the Internet; these parts have to be collected by the elite underground of old truck people. When Pete's mechanic showed up at let's say, the Everett parts place, he heard, "Let me check my Rolodex." Like old-fashion Wednesday night Bingo at Rosehill Pete's mechanic knew he'd struck the mother lode.
I'm guessing most of you holding the 'aha have more Rolodex moments. Just for fun, we'd love to hear 'em. Life gets pretty hairy and too serious too often. On our anniversary, how about a few Rolodex moments.
And to the Goat Woman and the Mechanic ... thanks a million!
xoxo
Mokihana and Pete
What a very happy anniversary you two have celebrated. This is a very pleasant post, rich in memories and insights.
ReplyDeleteThank you dear friend, Prescott. I am so glad you enjoyed the words. Nice to hear from you! xo Moki
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