Esoteric Bowl

There are times when I think about a certain someone from the past. I can’t help myself, the memory of the person just appears. Sometimes when I’m out and about, I wonder if today will be the day that we will bump into each other. It almost seems inevitable. After all it’s a small world, and an even smaller island.

There are times when I think that I wouldn’t mind seeing her, but then there are times when I think it would be best if we never crossed paths again. Too much time has passed, too much history, and too much hurt on both ends.

Even though the relationship ended on a bad note, I find it difficult to recall the bad memories. When thoughts of her appear, it’s always good thoughts. That’s one of the great things about memories; time has a way of fading the bad memories and highlighting the good ones.

Still, I’ve come to the realization that whether I see her again or not, I’ll never see her again, at least not the way that I used to. That will forever be a memory.

I was sitting at home reading and minding my own business. Then out of the blue a thought came to mind suggesting that I should go outside and take some photographs. I’m unsure where the thought came from, but it was like a gust of wind had blown the idea into my head.

The thought seemed like a good idea. I felt clear-headed and rested, and outdoors the sun was shining bright. I could walk on over to the university campus and take some random photos. Quickly, I felt inspired. So I jumped into the shower, brushed my teeth, got dressed, and grabbed the backpack and camera. In minutes time I was out the door and headed towards the campus.

As if another gust of wind had blown, I changed my direction in mid-walk and soon found myself on the bus heading towards destinations unknown. I got off the bus in downtown, walked around and took some random shots of nothing in particular. In my walking, I was soon miles away at Ala Moana shopping center, taking photos of people and koi and whatever else that struck me as being photo-worthy.

Then I was inside Daiei, admiring the bentos. Then I was outside the gate of a elementary school watching small children play. Then I was walking in and out of an unfamiliar church. Then I was drinking juice and sitting in the shade of a large tree at Old Stadium Park. It dawned on me then that I had spent the day in constant spontaneous motion, with not even my feet knowing which direction I was headed next. Although physically I was a little tired, I felt rejuvenated within. Moments later a gust of wind blew a big brownish-orange leaf across my path, and for a brief moment as the leaf danced by, we shared a knowing smile.

Sometimes I wish there was a 24-hour diner in the neighborhood. There’s a Zippy’s not too far away, and Zippy’s is fine, but I mean a real diner. The kind of diner where coffee mugs are continually refilled and portion control is unheard of. The kind of place where Mama has made cooking with grease an art form, and news of the day is shared freely with complete strangers.

Many years ago when I was living up in Alaska, my friends and I ate at least one meal a day at a diner called The White Spot. It was a hole in the wall kind of place nestled in the heart of the low-rent district of downtown Anchorage. For a while, a friend and I couldn’t get another friend to eat at the place because he thought the name had racial connotations, but after we assured him that it was all about the food, he agreed to come and soon became a regular.

The White Spot was owned by an elderly woman, and she did most of the cooking. She was a tough-as-nails kind of woman that grew up in the hard times of the depression. She chain-smoked and cussed a lot, but very much like her restaurant, she had a certain charm.

The restaurant had a long bar seating from wall to wall that split the place in half; one side for customers and the other side for staff. Most of the seating was spinning soda fountain stools, although there were a couple of tables and chairs alongside the wall. All the meals were served on metal pizza pans, and the food always covered the entire pan.

The food at the White Spot was so good. Everything was cooked homemade and with an old fashioned style. Plenty of grease, lots of gravy, huge biscuits, and big fat home fries with the skins still on them. Granted, this wasn’t health food, and my arteries probably hardened after every meal. Still, I would often leave the restaurant looking forward to my next visit. The specialty of the house were the hamburgers, which I have yet to find a better hamburger anywhere.

One of the cool things about The White Spot was the diversity of customers. On one side of the bar next to you could be sitting a white-collared businessman and on the other side someone that had hit hard times. Everyone ate and talked and sometimes argued and often laughed and there was a familial sense to the place. No matter who you were or what you did on the outside, everyone was the same while inside The White Spot.

Several years ago a girlfriend was employed by a large local hospital. Each night after coming home from work, she would often be depressed and upset to the point of tears. Considering her mood and her employer, some might have guessed that she worked in the emergency unit or treated the terminally ill, but the work that she performed was receiving payments from customers.

On a daily basis, customers would phone to complain that while they had made payment on their bill or paid their bill in full, they continued to receive past due notices and threats of legal action from the billing department. After checking the computer data, girlfriend would attempt to calm and reassure the customers that the payment was in the system and that they should ignore the notices.

According to her, there was a system in place that purposely separated the departments of billing and receiving. Not only were the two departments on separate floors, but management from both billing and receiving would continually prod animosity between the employees from the two departments. Most customer calls that she received were not direct calls, but rather redirected in-house calls via the billing department, a passing of the buck which gave the customers an extended runaround. Instead of redirecting the calls back to billing, girlfriend would call the billing department to notify them of the overcharge. Not only was the experience frustrating for her, but she could feel the frustration in the voices of the customers. It was her guess that approximately a third of those that were overcharged actually paid the over-billing. In the end, the over-billing practices were a profitable venture.

It’s not my intention of this post to single out hospitals. Unsavory billing practices have been found at banks, electrical, cable, insurance and telephone companies, credit card businesses, grocery chains, and other industries as well. The truth is, these businesses want all the money, and they have shown that they are more than willing to do whatever it takes to get it. The bottom line is the bottom line.

Although an occasional business is exposed for such practices, and every now and then a business will be fined, we in the west have a high tolerance for such things. We shake our heads in disgust at those who intentionally try to rip us off, but in the end we seem to throw our hands in the air and accept that such is the way things are.

In recent years we have seen an expansion of western business going abroad. In many cases these same companies that are going abroad are the same businesses which practice unsavory methods here at home. While we here in the west have grown to accept that such business practices occur, we have made some attempt at developing laws and guidelines to keep such businesses in line. Unfortunately, in many areas of the world such rules are not in place and the individual is at the mercy of these businesses.

While certain politicians from the west speak about a push for freedom around the world, for many this brand of freedom is nothing more than a code for further expansion of western business. Listen to citizens from around the globe and oftentimes they express their harshest feelings towards the western businesses that have openly stolen from them and continue to destroy their cultures with the consent and backing of western governments. While we in the west have learned to accept unsavory business practices as the way things are, for others in far off places, such methods of exploitation are attacks upon their dignity and everything they hold most dear.

Have you ever noticed what is being aired on daytime television? If you thought what the networks offered on prime-time was bad, the daytime shows as a whole are far worse. I remember as a child when I was sick and stayed home from school, daytime television was a mix of game shows, cartoons, and soap operas. Okay, not exactly must see TV, but it was relatively mild and somewhat entertaining enough to occupy a sick child. The cartoons are now gone and there are only a few game shows and a handful of soap operas remaining.

I was looking at the current daytime guide and there seems to be a fascination with courts. There’s Celebrity Justice and The People’s Court, and a slew of judges with their own shows including Judge Joe Brown, Judge Hatchett, Judge Mathis, and the queen of Judge-TV, Judge Judy. I’m unsure what viewers get from these shows, but it’s certainly not lessons in the judicial process. Celebrity Justice appears to be more of a gossip show, while the other court shows seem to offer a lot of arguing, name-calling, and pettiness.

There’s also a lot of talking going on in daytime television. Of course there’s Oprah, Regis and Kelly, Ellen, and Dr. Phil. And then you have Montel, Maury, and some guy named Larry Elder. There’s also The View, which consists of Barbara Walters and a group of attention starved women taking turns interrupting each other. Jane Pauley has a talk show, as does Tony Danza. The bigger shows have the bigger guests, thus more self-promotion and ego stroking going on. The smaller shows don’t have the big guests, but what they lack in star power they make up for in exploiting individual grief and suffering.

And then there’s the endless preoccupation with all things celebrity. There’s Inside Edition, Entertainment Studios, Extra, The Insider, Access Hollywood, and Entertainment Tonight. I’m unsure what viewers get from these shows, but if you’re hanging on the edge of your seat for the next tidbit about Brad and Jen, then these are the shows to watch.

This is just a look a daytime television on the networks, but surely what cable offers is little better, if not worse. The state of television programming as a whole often makes me wonder about the inventors and creators of television. What were the dreams and visions of the makers of television? With all of it’s potential to educate and entertain, how did we veer so far from that potential? Granted, there are some quality television programs, but they are the exception rather than the rule. Maybe television is just part of a larger pattern where we often see the brightest inventions used in the worst of ways. Sometimes when I look at how computers and the web are used negatively, I wonder if these inventions will suffer the same fate as television.

There’s a Mexican restaurant in my neighborhood! I realize that in many areas of the states a new Mexican restaurant is nothing special and certainly nothing to get excited about. But you’ve got to understand; I live in Hawai’i. We here in the islands have several fine restaurants and a wide variety of cuisines, but for some reason there are a few ethnicities with very little food representation.

Years ago when I was twelve years old, my parents sent me off to California to spend summer vacation with my grandparents. It was a great opportunity for my grandparents and I to spend time with one another. There was only one catch to my going to California; before returning to the islands, I needed to get burritos from a certain Mexican restaurant. I bought as many burritos that could fit into a large shoebox, and carried them onto the plane. Yes, my parents were happy to have me back, but they were excited about those burritos. It’s just a guess, but it may have been the longest take-out order for burritos in modern history.

Since that time, there have been a couple of good Mexican restaurants to pop up in Hawai’i, but still they are far and few between. When I first saw the sign of Diego’s in my neighborhood, I did a double-take. The place is literally a hole in the wall, seating a maximum of sixteen. Most of the orders appear to be take-out. It’s certainly not fine dining, and they don’t serve margaritas. But the place is clean and nicely decorated, and the staff is very friendly and from what I have seen, always busy. One promising sign for me was when I overheard the people in the kitchen speaking Spanish.

There are a number of selections on the menu, all of which are inexpensive. I did the taste-test yesterday of their beef burrito with homemade guacamole, which is so big it requires two hands to hold. The beef is spicy marinated steak, not that ground beef Taco Bell stuff. Delicioso y sabroso. Diego’s is certainly a great place for lunch. I’m so glad to see a little bit of Mexico in my neighborhood.

I was going back and forth between C-SPAN and C-SPAN2. The scenes that were being broadcast from the two channels could not have been more different.

On C-SPAN, the scene was inside Statuary Hall where the Inaugural luncheon with President Bush, Vice President Cheney, their families, friends, and a select group of politicians and political bigwigs were in attendance. Everyone was fashionably dressed in designer wear as they dined on quail and drank from crystal goblets.

On C-SPAN2, the scene was outside in the cold of the surrounding Washington walkways. Numerous groups of people protested the President, his administration, and the current policies. Although it looked cold, the huddled masses appeared to be energized by their
commitment to their cause.

Although some of the media felt a need to celebrate the politicians and vilify the protesters, C-SPAN just showed the contrasting scenes as is and without commentary. I didn’t have to ask myself which group I related to or which group of people I would feel more comfortable in being around. Still, both scenes were fine examples of democracy in action, warts and all.

I did make an attempt to listen to Bush as he delivered his inaugural address. After all, like it or not, he is the President of the United States. However, it is so very difficult, almost physically painful to listen to what the man has to say. No matter how eloquently expressed a vision may be or golden the promises may sound, far too many lies have already been told and far too many have paid the price for those lies. It’s difficult to accept any of his rhetoric as truth, and that saddens me.