The Garden and Cultural Connections

      Yesterday I came home and found that my whole garden had been flattened.  The tiny arugula leaves were butchered.  The snow peas; decimated. The mint; pulverized. The squash, gone. I had planted each seed and with each bit of soil that embedded itself into my fingernails, I grew. The little plants were fragile and so was I.  And each time I went outside, I knew it was going to be okay. The plants grew and I grew here and we were connected; Here.

What Happened?

Please raise your hand if you know what haolie is.  What about pakalolo? Okay, how about pinche? Or, saranghaeyo?

Haole is a Hawaiian word that refers to anybody that is not a native.

Pakalolo is the Hawaiian word for pot.

Pinche is spanish for the "f" word.

Saranghaeyo is "I love you" in Korean.

Lo tso is the Navajo word for shark.


I have heard that when the American Natives were moved from their homes that their language was so embedded in the landscape and weather patterns, that they lost a good portion of their language and how they communicated.  If anybody has a story about this, I'd really love to hear and learn more.

When I heard that story, I realized that my cultural ques are missing.  Perhaps the yardman who chopped down the garden has lost his connection.  Why should I think that the mint is valuable, maybe he doesn't and was preforming a loving act in my benefit.

Sometimes it works the other way around.  We take our language and cultural ques and impose them.  I'm teaching a young Japanese woman how to speak English.  We've become comfortable with each other, enough so that she cried when she told me that the name they put on her passport isn't her name.  She asked me if she should change her name. She tried to show me how to pronounce her name and I had difficulty.

Yesterday at my writers group, I noticed that many writers use words such as "haole" and other Hawaiian terms that no one else would know if they didn't live here.  They took it for granted that their language was every one's language.


My yardman is in a lot of trouble.  I loved that garden and my heart if broken, but I also know that he, in his heart, was doing his job.  Now we just need to communicate.

Sam, the Pineapple Farmer, Ate a Fish Taco

Sam, The Pineapple Farmer

Sam is becoming a pineapple farmer.(That's Marshall with Sam, he comes to dinner a lot.)  He's growing his hair and is working on a tan.  We've eaten so many mangoes, that I can't even look at them.  Please, take the mangoes.  Next year, I'll be a mango salesman. I'll get rich, I know I will.

We've eaten so many white pineapples that I can't look at them. Jeff, our friend, grows them.  I have to say, they are the sweetest and most vibrant pineapples that I've ever experienced. Of course, he's teaching Sam how to grow them.  We have three on our kitchen counter starting to grow roots.

Pineapples are interesting because they really are a specialized crop. It takes a year for a pineapple to grow.  Believe it or not, hummingbirds are one of the worst enemies of the plant.  They totally mess up the pollination process.  Hummingbirds are not encouraged in Hawaii. PIneapples also don't ripen after they're picked.  So all of those green pineapples you see in the stores, well, that's as good as they'll get.  You can, however, turn them upside down so that the sugar distributes.

 We've had so many fish tacos that my belly is bursting. We've had so many fish tacos with mango salsa that I just can't look at another one. BUT, we just finished our first container of green chile.  Now that's getting the job done.

About the Green Chile

My friend and I were at the grocery store and she almost passed out from panting when she saw canned Hatch green chile.  "Oh I just love this" and she put 3 cans in her basket.  I swore I would never eat that ________. Well several weeks later, I found myself putting a can of green chile in my basket.  I almost cried.  I could smell the chile roasting and remembered the mountains of New Mexico.  I could smell the air and feel the black dirt of the Sandias under my fingers. I used that chile in everything.

The heart wrenching angst didnt go away.  I called Bueno Chile.  Nope, they couldn't ship to me.  But, there was a woman on O'ahu who did.  I called her and within a week, I had a case (12 plastic containers) of frozen green chile in my freezer.  It only cost slightly over $100.00. That included the shipping, of course. Life is different now. 

Recipe for Mango Salsa

Cut one ripe mango up into small pieces.

Use either 1 jalapeno or 3 TBS. of chopped green chile (this is to your taste)

Chop 1 red bell pepper into small pieces (gives a nice crunch)

Squeeze the juice from 2 medium limes

Add salt and pepper.

let it sit for 20 or so minutes.

Sometimes I like to add a banana.

Use this salsa on any taco, beef or fish.

As if all of this wasn't bad enough, I just had to buy that flat of figs at Costco. Oh yeah, I did.  My refrigerator has pineapple, mangoes, bananas, watermelon, blueberries, strawberries and figs. Last night I made a fig tart and I have to say it was so gooooooood.

Fig Tart

Make a traditional pie crust or use the store bought.  Lay it out over parchment paper on a cookie sheet.  preheat oven to 350 degrees.

For Frangipane

In a food processor add the following:

1/2 cup of toasted almonds

3 tablespoons of butter

i large egg

1/3 cup of sugar

Pulse until you have a relatively smooth paste.

Lightly spread this over the pie crust.

Cut the figs in quarters and arrange them as you desire on the crust. Leave enough room so that you can curl the crust up and partially over the figs.  Make an egg wash with 1 egg yolk and 1 tsp of water.  Use a pastry brush and brush the pie crust with the egg wash.  Sprinkle about 1 large TBS. of raw sugar over the figs and put into the oven.  Bake for 30 minutes or until crust is nice and brown.

Right now, I thinking about Aloha and what that means in my life.  Reaching out to others and being kind.  Loving all people and not speaking bad about anyone. I want more aloha in my life.  It must be the pineapples.

A glimpse into the hula tradition

Ka'Imi Na'auao O Hawai'i Nei

To Search for the truth of the Hawaiian Culture

   I sat in the dentist's office this morning and watched a young Hawaiian girl practice her steps as she waited for her appointment. I saw her counting off, crossing her feet, and whispering the movements to herself.  Her mother sat in the chair with her youngest and I could see her thinking to herself of all the generations that had done what her daughter was doing and that the young girl she held in her arms was going to be doing the same thing in several years.  I know.  She was probably thinking about her grocery list and how she'd love to get a massage, but that's what fantasies are for, right?  They inspire.

   I think Hawaiian people are some the most beautiful people I've ever seen.  This girl was no exception.  She was no more than fourteen and her skin was the color of maple syrup.  It was smooth and glowing.  Her hair was up in a ponytail but you could tell, it would almost hang down her back.  Her lips were full and voluptuous and curved easily into a smile.  Her eyes were dark brown and glowed.  Frankly, she was beautiful.

   I'm from New Mexico where there are 19 pueblos and 3 reservations.  The young Native people are angry and fighting for their own sovereignty and liberation as they plunge themselves into what their grandmothers and forefathers have done for hundreds of years.  The traditions are sacred and often secret.  The whole culture is embedded in unison with the earth and its movements and seasonal changes. There are particular costumes for dances and art forms that are passed from elder to child. Young people are fighting to reclaim their language and trying to teach it to their children. It is the same in Hawaii.

    The Hula

   I really have no right to write about Hula or Hawaiian culture.  I don't know very much.  I've only lived here for a short while.  That's my disclaimer before I begin.

   The Hula has been part of Hawaiian culture since ancient times.  Its beginnings are linked to number of gods and humans.  There are many mythical characters such as Hi'iaka who is considered as the first dancer.  Others call Kapo'ulakina'u the first divine patron of hula, or tell the story of Keaomelemele as the foundation myth of dance.  There are many mythical connections to hula and many stories associated with it's beginnings.  So there's really no way to know except through the first documentations, most of which were done by the famous white sailor, Captain Cook and of course, he could never translate the true meanings of the Hawaiian language or its customs. the Hawaiian language is like so many native languages.  If you're not a native speaker, much of the nuances of the language will be missed.  Trying to translate into English is almost impossible.

  What is clear, is that hula is spiritual.  All creation, including things moderns call inanimate, are regarded as having life.  This is called mana and everyone and everything has it. The preservation of spiritual and genealogical purity was as much a concern for the Hawaiians of this era as it has been for all Native cultures living today. As Hollywood and Elvis infiltrated the island and made hula conform to their own purposes and fantasies, many traditions appeared to be lost.
   

A Little Background

  In the 1960's, a group of Hilo ( a town on the east side of the Big Island) businesspeople, wanting to attract tourists during the normally slow season of March-April, decided to organize a festival of local culture.  On the advice of cultural practitioners concerned about the increasingly haole (a reference to non-native people) character of Hawaiian culture in general and of hula in particular, they created the Merrie Monarch competition.  It was created in honor of King David Kalakaua, and has become a major event on the island that includes dancers from all of the islands as well as several locations on the mainland.  The Merrie Monarch Festival is a week-long cultural festival that takes place annually in Hilo, Hawaii. It honors King David Kalākaua, who was called the "Merrie Monarch" for his patronage of the arts. He is credited with restoring many Hawaiian cultural traditions during his reign, including the hula. Many hālau hula (schools), including some from the U.S. mainland and Japan, attend the festival each year to participate in the festival exhibitions and competitions, which are considered the most prestigious of all hula contests.

Today, Hula continues to evolve and spread.  Children here are seen practicing hula like the young girl that I saw in the dentist's office in schools, community centers and many different places.  Hula is no longer just a show for tourists.  Hula has reclaimed it's "mana" and is revered as a sacred form of prayer.  Young people learning hula cannot participate in the Merrie Monarch until they've been dancing for at least five years. 

Merrie Monarch video 2012 Where is hula Today?           click to see video.

   

What to Do When you Witness, Suspect child Abuse

As I lay in bed this morning, reading the paper and sipping my coffee, my brain just stopped when I read this letter to the editor.

Taken from a Hawaiian Newspaper, August 8, 2012

No Help Available

Yesterday I witnessed a man in the Walmart pick up his approximately 2-year old son by the top of his hair and throw him in a shopping cart, then slap him, slapping his other children, too, screaming at them.

I asked the clerk to please call security. she didn't want to get involved. Neither did the 40 or so people who were staring at this horrible scene saying, "Oh my God."

I had my grandson with me  and this was upsetting him.  The woman in the back of me kept saying somebody should do something.

The man continued to slap and hit and scream at all his children, while the mother did nothing.  I followed them out to the parking lot, as I watched him pick up the smaller kids by their hair and throw them in their van.  I called 911 and told them what I was witnessing.

I'm crying by now, I waited 20 minutes and no police came as I watched the van drive away.  

I can't imagine what must happen at home if this is what its like in public.  I called CYFD and told them what had happened when I got home and they told me they really couldn't do anything unless I could give them an address.

I watched commercials and read articles that say we must help the children if we suspect abuse.  So who do you call?

I pray the next time this happens and the right person is a witness, that something will be done and these children will have a better place to live.


     I remember being in the grocery store and witnessing a father abusing his son.  I too followed them out to their car and as I saw the man lean over the small child and grab him, I intervened and told him to stop treating his son that way.  He turned to me and glared, grabbed the boy and threw him in the car and left.  For the rest of that day and even now, I wonder if I made it worse for the kid.

     I also heard a mother screaming at her children all over the store (Walmart) and when they came into view I was so angry.  I told her to stop  treating her children that way.  I was calm when I spoke to her but also visibly upset.  She looked at me and asked if I was talking to her.  I told her I was.  I could see her take a breath and try to regain control, but I could see how dead the children's eyes were.  This was a regular event.

     As a teacher, I would stand out in the hall at the end of the day and supervise as parents picked up their children. Each day, there would be a young man who would lean against the wall waiting to pick up one of my kids.  Everyday, I would look him in the eyes and say hello.  At this particular school, I thought all of the parents were kind of scary looking and so was this guy.  Then, one day that student wasn't in school.  I got called into the principal's office and they queried me about my student.  Had he been acting strange?  Was he bruised?  I had no idea what had happened.  Then they told me that the man I saw everyday had killed my student's 2 year old brother.  I found out that he had been abusing the little baby for over two months.  The death had been drawn out over that time.

I know all of you have stories too.  So, what should the writer of the letter have done?  What should we do when we see this behavior?  I think she did everything that any professional would have told her to do.  I think the police and CYFD were negligent as all hell.  She gave them the license plate number.  Couldn't they track the address from there?  

I really couldn't help but think about the people on the plane that got hijacked on 9/11.  They got together as a group and took the plane back.  They took the power back.  Why couldn't 40 people do that to prevent these children from getting hurt worse?  Here in Hawaii, children are everything.  So is family.  This behavior is not common.  But drugs have become part of the landscape.  They call it "ICE".  It's a form of meth.  Anytime I see this type of behavior or hear about it, I think to myself, I bet drugs and alcohol were involved. And I bet they were this time too.

According to a Yahoo contributor, Christine Travis, the man in our story has taken things to a new extreme. She says that it is likely the abuse is worse at home.  She says that calling the police is a good strategy but a better one is to call store security and recruit their help in stalling the parent as you contact CYFD.  Supposedly CYFD will evaluate the situation and provide the parent and child with services or intervene in some way.  

I don't know what the right answer is. But please, take time to compliment parents who are being kind to their children.  Take time to do something for children everyday if you can.  Take flowers to CYFD where they see the worst of the worst and work so hard.  Please read Christine's advice on this link. And please take the time to post on my site and share your stories and advice.  We all want to be better.  Desmond Tutu said that we are appalled by this type of behavior because most of us are good.  If we weren't good we wouldn't be appalled.

What to do when you witness child abuse

Please comment by using the anonymous option or emailing me at amaracudney@gmail.com.

Hawaii is Teaching Me To Write

Hawaii is teaching me to write.  My first month or so,  I saw a posting in the newspaper for a writers group.  I went on a Tues at 10 am and there were about 25 people sitting around the table.  They were of all ages, sizes and colors.  I felt right at home.  I'd brought some of my writing and when it came my turn, I read a poem.  My group's reaction was wonderful and I'll never forget it.  The room was dead silent, people's eyes teared up, some mouths dropped open and then I got "feedback".  Guess what?  They loved my work.  I felt like I was accepted and part of the "Waimea's Writer's Group".  After hearing some of their readings, I knew this was a special place to be and that these were not just weekend warriors, but people that cared deeply about writing and about other people's work.  One man had written a story about a very young couple.  He portrayed the female as strong and able to make decisions, even if it meant not following her boyfriend who was going to college.  By the time he finished reading, he was crying openly and so were others.  I was touched by this.

It was interesting because the group was going to take a hiatus for the summer and meet at another location. I went a few times and was blown away by the location.  We met at a place called Algoods Barn. Algoods is located on a corner piece of the island.  There are horses, cows and lots of chickens running around a huge plot of land.  The trees lean toward the land, shaped by the wind that blows constantly, and the ocean surrounds the land on two sides.  Its a dramatic piece of property that you can't help but fall in love with.  The ladies that own it have built a house with the express purpose of hosting artists and other entrepreneurs. The group has kept me producing at a good rate, but I wanted more.

I met Richard and his wife at a friends house and we got to talking.  Richard owns a gallery and does so many other things just like the rest of us here on the island.  He ghost writes for several authors, plays music and now he's helping me.  What is different about the work I'm doing with Richard is that he's pushing me beyond my limits.  He doesn't swoon over my work, he just asks how I could change it up or say it better.  At first I didn't like it.  Then one of my poems exploded. See what you think.

Anger Flash Song

Girl, take your angry woman suit off ,

It don’t look good on you,

You bringing us all down, I’m telling you,

Nobody’s gonna  like you in that get up you got on now

You’re just scared little girl, cuz no one ever showed you how,

I saw you dancing,

I saw your skirts flying in the air,

It’s your anger that I can not bear,

It leaves me empty, it just drains me.

Life hurts us bad, I ought to know,

But no difference really, you’ve just gotta go

Reach deep inside and pull out the love,

Come on girl, it’s a new day have some fun,

Somebody told you something that was a lie.

I saw you dancing

I saw your skirts flying in the air,

Its your anger that I can not bear,

It leaves me empty, it just drains me.

Girl, take your angry woman suit off,

It don’t look good on you,

You’re beautiful today out in the sun,

Forget the story, remember how

It only about solutions, come on now.

I saw you dancing,

I saw your skits flying in the air,

It’s your anger that I cannot bear,

It leaves me empty, it just drains me.

 He told me that I had used too much dialect and hadn't really said what I wanted.  Here's what happened.

Sweet Mother, Release Me

By Amara Cudney

Her mouth opened and the atmosphere shattered

Jagged pieces of soul

Torn from bellies not yet

Pregnated, fertile and alive.

Just her teeth spayed across her lips

In an almost smile that wasn’t living.

Her hand holding the scotch,

 eyes dead from

Repetitive abuse,

 I let go of what I wanted to be

 where I wanted to go.

Those dreams floated in the gutters

By my street.

 I held the scotch and added a needle

 Trying to find the relief that wasn’t coming

It never came, not in musty hotel rooms, or at Pink Floyd concerts.,

Her words reflected in the blood I drew,

I cried for what would never be.

 I called for your help; help me

Your quizzical expression startled me as you reached for my hand

And held me in your heart,

I knew it wouldn’t be easy

I knew it wouldn’t happen quickly,

 I fought, climbed, surrendered

To something bigger than I was.

Forever held below the moon, spooned by Jupiter, cradled by Mars.

Now he wants me to take this version and turn it into a song. I'm actually feeling challenged and stoked about this.  I don't like doing stuff over and over but I like the results of being able to say things more clearly.

Amara's Chocolate Day

 

 A Day With Chocolate

 When Sam and I first got to Hawaii, we went to a grower's market south of Kona and as we were leaving, a guy gave me a piece of chocolate.  To this day, I can still taste that chocolate.  It was sweet and citrusy.  It was a little grainy but still smooth.  It melted in my mouth like heaven. When I saw the advertisment in the paper for a "Chocolate Workshop", I could hardly wait. I signed up immidiately.

     The "Bean to Chocolate Bar" class began at the Keahou Sheraton in South Kona, Hi.  There were about twenty participants and none were tourists. I was really surprised that most of the attendees were local people who either had their own farm or were interested in farming.  It was a wonderful group and made friends right away.  We all loaded into vans and headed out to Kuaiwi Farm. Its hard to descirbe how beautiful the ride was.  We wandered up dirt roads through rain forests where wild ginger, bananas, orchids, coffee, and dozens of plants I didn't know, grew.  When we got to Kuaiwi Farms, we pulled in to a driveway facing a dome house. that is their home.  Unpretentious and beautiful.


    Kuaiwi Farm is owned by Una Greenaway and Leon Rostner. They have a serious commitment to sustainability and it shows with each footstep you take at the farm.  Una's face has a light in it that glows and as you wander the landscape you can feel the magic of love and goodness that radiates from every blade of grass and each plant. They bought the farm with a strong intention to heal the land and bring it back to its natural and organic state.

Una says that her ideals are based on respecting the earth and cultivating the land in a sustainable manner.  The farm is currently free of hericides and pesticides and is using a closed circle of inputs such as composting and recycling everything themselves.

    She led us on a stroll through orchards, where hundred year old coffee trees thrive along side numerous tropical fruit trees and vegetable gardens.  There is also a chocolate orchard with over 100 producing cacao trees. These are cacao fruit.  They are full of sweet fruit and berries.  The berries are what the chocolate is made from.

   

This is the leaf from the cacao tree and as you can see its being attacked.  All of the farmers said that if you're growing something you have to deal with insects, weather, or other things.  it never comes easy.

 
       

Please contact www.kuaiwifarm.com to take a tour.  It would be a great place to stop on your first few days on the island.  You could buy coffee, chocolate, vegetables, fruit, jams and macadamia nuts. The farm also has tours and is just a great way to get off the beaten path and away from all the tourist places. You'll learn about a Hawaii that is real and wonderful.

     

Making the chocolate

    David Elliot and Nat Bledder are the owners and co-founders of Madre Chocolate. Nat teaches the classes and is an entertaining and knowledgeable man.  Making chocolate in one afternoon as opposed to making it in his factory is quite different.  He used toasted cacao beans and ground them in a food processor along with the sugar.  He also had another grinder that is typically used in India to grind lentils for flour.  Usually, the beans would grind with the sugar for at least a week.  (ground beans are called nibs and are readily available) In our class we made chocolate in one afternoon and the chocolate was delicious, but not the same as the bars Nat sells at his shop.

Here is Nat teaching, I think you'll love it.

Bean-to-Bar Chocolate-Making Class 
Sunday, July 29, August 26 • 1 p.m. - 4 p.m.

Our shop in Kailua, O’ahu

Learn a little about the history of chocolate, enjoy a chocolate tasting, and find out how chocolate is made. Covers the many varieties of cocoa beans and chocolate, Aztec and Mayan uses of chocolate, and how to make your own chocolate bars from the bean. Varieties of chocolate bars, whether milk or dark, raw or roasted, single origin or blended, and fruity or nutty are increasing exponentially. Learn how to look at the ingredients and sort out the tasty healthy ones from the rest. Everyone participates in making delicious chocolate bars from scratch in the class. Take recipes and a bar of hand-made chocolate home with you. Contact us with any questions about the class and register below for your selected date.

20A Kainehe St. • Kailua • $50

 July 29th

 August 26th

Everyone was riveted as Nat talked and began to temper the chocolate.  Tempering is mixing the cacao with cocoa butter.  This occurs when you blend the two ingredients at 72 degrees and you hope the humidity is less than 50%.  Too much humidity will really hurt the chocolate.    We all got to pour the final product in a mold and add different flavorings such as Chile, fruits or nuts.  It was delicious.  

I also found out why this delicious product isn't as readily available as you'd think.  I always wondered why when I went into the tourist shops, there wasn't any Hawaiian chocolate.  Well, now I know.  Hawaiian chocolate is trying to find its way into the world market, but its having a hard time because labor costs are high and quantity is low.  Cacao farmers and people like Nat are trying to identify a place in the world market for this wonderful product.  It might take some time as growers and chocolate makers show up at events around the world with this product and make a name for it.  I imagine it will eventually rate as high as the extraordinary Kona coffee that is grown on the island. Please visit Nat's web site and learn about chocolate.  What a fascinating day, I'll never feel the same about this beloved sweet again.

Please post as anonymous if your having trouble leaving a comment.  

Heads Up

Heads

 Up

Look at those beautiful women, all I can say is Wow! 

                      ***************

Here we are, Gail and me in my kitchen.  They say that a picture can tell a story.  I wonder what do you see? I see two happy women who love each other and are really happy to be together.  They both look like they have normal, everyday, boring lives.  

But wait! What is BELOW?  Doesn't everyone have something underneath their outer veneer, a place where secrets and wounds hide?

                
                                        ******************

     My husband and I pulled up to the Hilton in Waikoloa, Hawai'i on a beautiful, sunny afternoon.  Standing there in all her glory was Gail.  It was the first time I'd seen her since she lost her leg over a year ago.  I thought that I would only be able to look at the prosthetic, like an old man that can only stare at your boobs.  But really, what I saw was this shining, glorious woman who seemed to be saying, "Here I am, all of me, I have nothing to hide." She had her arms outstretched and a smile as big as Texas.  I jumped out of the car and ran to her and gave her a big hug.  

     I had met Gail a little over two years ago. She came with my friend, Diana and another woman.  They were traveling east and had stopped by to see me in Albuquerque, New Mexico.  I was graduating with my Master's degree and they came to the ceremony.  We ended up really bonding in a very short period.  Gail liked to take naps, she couldn't go as hard as the other girls, she was sensitive and I could really relate.  We were very similar. I hoped that we would be friends for a long time.


   We kept in touch through Facebook, believe it or not. She had posted her journey since the day she got T-boned on her Harley.  I read in horror as she announced they had cut off her leg.  She then proceeded to have seven surgeries, and was in the hospital for over forty three days.  And throughout it all, she was uplifted, of good spirits and I developed such an admiration for her.  She was such a great teacher for me.  Several months ago she talked about a huge gash on her stump.  It was a raw, ugly gash across the tissue right below her knee.  It was severely infected and looked awful.  As we sat at my kitchen table talking, we were in awe that we could be together again. She removed her prosthesis and showed me how that gash was now just a tiny wound, only a few inches long.  She explained how the prosthesis worked and showed me the insignia, "Winter", explaining that the material that wrapped around her upper thigh had actually been made by the people that made "Dolphin Tale".  At the end of her prosthesis is a screw.  I am not kidding.  It's a screw that fits inside the prosthesis and attaches her upper leg to the device.  At the bottom of her prosthesis is a foot.  She wears a shoe on it and for some reason, that really touches me. Its a way to say, "I'm normal."

     Gail and I have a special connection because we're both in AA.  She has twenty three years sobriety and I have seventeen.  There is a meeting that I love down by the beach.  It's at a church and the meeting is held outside under the stars. We sit at a long wooden table and drink coffee and share our stories.  I asked Gail to come with me.  She was delighted to go to a meeting (that's what us AA's do) and grateful to have some space from her family. 


    The leader, that night, asked her to share her story for about fifteen minutes.  After we opened the meeting with our prayers, and she was introduced, she stood up.  She told her story and everyone was riveted in their chair.  She's a big girl to begin with, at least 5'9" and she has a booming voice that everyone could hear.  She talked about how four years ago, she'd come home and found her husband dead on the floor from suicide and then one year ago she had had the accident.  A 65 year old woman who had just gotten out of an eye appointment ran a light and hit Gail.  She talked about how her faith in God has grown and how her spirituality has intensified. She shared that a few months ago she fell into a funk and that, after a few weeks, she remembered to ask for God's help.  She immediately felt better and again learned that all she had to do was to ask for help.
     Gail knows that having a prosthesis wasn't something she wanted or planned, but that she has to ACCEPT what has happened.  Right now, she is not in love with the idea of needing medical care for the rest of her life, of not living the life she was used to.  For her, everything, and I mean, EVERYTHING, has changed.  

     I would like to tell you that Gail is a uniquely powerful woman.   She's not.  She's just like you and me and has feelings. She has good and bad days.  She feels fat on some days and gloriously happy when the scale says she lost weight.  She cares about her family and she cares about her friends.  She gets tired and angry and frustrated and lonely.  She knows that she is a woman amongst women.  What sets her story apart, for me, is that she grasped God's hand.  Although she's not religious, she is deeply spiritual. When her husband died, she got through that.  Now that she's lost her leg, she'll tell you outright that that was not in her plans. But what she did do is  she reached out for something that was more powerful than her and held on for dear life.  She holds on to that hand because she knows she cannot get through this by herself. And that is why I feel so blessed to know her and to be part of her journey.  Because she has reminded me that I'm not alone.  I can also reach out to something that is greater than me and I do not have to face this life alone. Thanks Gail for a very special gift.

   So, when I titled the piece "Heads Up" I thought that most of us tend to only look at the surface.  I guess that looking down at Gail's leg is a little uncomfortable.  It doesn't fit the paradigm.  She's not Barbie.  I want to remind all of us to take the time, talk to your Friends, talk to people you don't know and see what is "below".

Please leave a comment about how Gail's story has touched you.  Remember that I'll choose randomly from your comments for a chance to win a pound of Kona Coffee.  Thanks Gail for letting me publish your story, I love you very much.