Misc. Ramblings

Sometimes help comes from the most unexpected places.

José is a waiter, something he's been doing for most of his adult life. While waiters in those fancy restaurants can make six figure incomes, José didn't work in one of those. Instead, he worked in a small café where the food is simple but good and where everyone, as the saying goes, knows your name.

As you might imagine, José is not wealthy person. So life is difficult sometimes. But it is especially difficult in the food industry, what with the competition from other cafés, not to mention the fast food places. José didn't even own a car. But that didn't deter him from being a caring person and he enjoyed the work he did.

As a waiter, José gets to meet a lot of people. Some are nice and some are not. One of José's regular customers is Kimo. Kimo comes in once a week with a few friends just before their Elks Club meeting. The first time Kimo came in José took an immediately liking to him.

So week after week and month after month Kimo and friends would come for dinner before going to the club to provide speech therapy services to youngsters to help them overcome their speech impediments. Something he and the club did for free as a way of giving back to the community. When José found out what they did, he knew for sure that these were some of the nice ones.

Then one day, Kimo didn't come in. So José asked the friends where was Kimo? The friends told him of how Kimo had to go to the mainland to have some medical tests done. For you see, Kimo was not well. In fact, his kidneys were failing and he needed a transplant. The good news was that he was a good candidate for the life saving operation. The bad news was that there is a continuing shortage of people willing to donate a kidney. Therefore, Kimo would probably be dead before his name made it to the top of the list. The further bad news was that Kimo's blood type was relatively rare so it would be difficult to match someone, even if there was a kidney available.

That got José to thinking. He felt he had a choice to make. A choice only for him. He pondered the choice and what it would mean. He stood at that crossroad and saw two clear paths. Danger lurked on one of them like a panther waiting to pounce. The other was wide open and seemingly safe. Then he made his decision.

A week later, Kimo was back at his regular table at the café - a little worse for wear and a somewhat tired from his trip, not to mention his circumstances. But when José walked up to Kimo to take his dinner order, Kimo got the second shock of his life. José asked him if he wanted to have one of José's kidneys.

To say Kimo was stunned would be an understatment. Why would someone, even someone you see once a week, be willing to literally give part of themselves to save your life? Knowing full well that no operation is routine and a kidney transplant is by no means without danger to the donor. We may never know for sure, but José felt he had been led to that crossroad and that, in either case, it was the right thing to do.

So José was tested and against staggering odds, he was a perfect match. Shortly thereafter, the operation was performed and Kimo was made whole again and was soon ready to return to helping the kids.

Some would say it was just a coincidence that Kimo first came to that café. That is was just a coincidence that he chose the specific table that José waited on. That it was just random chance that Kimo was willing to help the way he did.

But to tell you the truth, I don't believe that. I hope mankind is more than a minuscule boat buffeted by the winds and waves of chance. That all is not chaos. I don't believe people do whatever they do based solely on greed or self-interest. I think if we keep our eyes and hearts open, we can sometimes see the unseen patterns that betray the underlying plan. A plan that can, if we choose that path, lead to a better place.

Hollywood celebrities don't have the best of reputations. From drug abuse to sex scandals to actors who use their status to publicize their wayward views it is difficult to find stories about the good that can be done.

This is one of those stories.

Little Jonny is like any other young boy. He loves to play basketball and hang out with his friends in Arizona. Some would even say he's a lucky kid because, during the summers, he gets to go to the Big Island of Hawai'i to spend time with his grandparents.

Five years ago, when he turned nine, he found out he had rare disease called adrenoleukodystrophy. Some of you may recognize the disease as the one portrayed in the 1993 movie "Lorenzo's Oil." The disease is characterized by a degeneration of the myelin sheath on nerve fibers in the brain which leads to progressive neurological disability.

Jonny knew he did not have a lot of time left on this earth but before his time was up, he wanted to do one thing. Meet a Hollywood star. Not just any star, but one that seemed to like kids because he seemed so much to be one himself. So his parents contacted the "Make a Wish Foundation." The Foundation's mission is to "grant the wishes of children with life-threatening medical conditions to enrich the human experience with hope, strength, and joy."

But this disease acts so quickly that time was rapidly running out on Jonny and it didn't look like the Foundation would be able to make this little guy's wish come true. However, they were able to arrange for Jonny's second wish of seeing an Arizona Cardinals - Dallas Cowboys National Football League game.

But news of the boy's first wish somehow made it to the star. He was so moved by the story that he paid for all the expenses of flying Jonny and his mother to Culver City, California where he was filming a movie. When Jonny arrived on set, the star shut down production for the day and spent time playing basketball and doing other stuff Jonny wanted to do.

By this time, the disease had progressed to a point where Jonny couldn't hear, but the star used a pad of paper and wrote down everything he wanted to say to Jonny. Needless to say, that one day meant more to Jonny than almost any other day in his too short life.

This actor didn't need to do what he did and he certainly didn't do it for the publicity because he made sure there wasn't any. If it wasn't for the boy's grandfather telling the story, no one outside of the family would have known.

The day ended all to quickly and Jonny had to return home. But the star kept in touch with the family via letters over the next few months. And then the day came that all knew would be coming. The disease that had already taken Jonny's hearing, and then his eye sight, also took his life.

Upon getting the news of this, the star wrote one last heartfelt two-page letter to Jonny's grieving parents. We don't know for sure what the letter says but one could guess he tried to give them support and peace. This, from a man who touched a boy's life but for one day.

The actor's name? Adam Sandler. Whatever his faults and whatever his skills as an actor may be, the world could use a few more heroes like him.

Aloha!

Big business hasn't exactly had a good reputation lately. In fact, it seems almost every week we hear of another executive charged with looting the very company he or she was entrusted with running. But hard as it may seem to be otherwise, they aren't all like that. Many companies give their employees Christmas bonuses. For some, this may be a gift certificate for a nice dinner. For others it may be a small monetary gift as appreciation for all the hard work employees do during the year. But this business owner was a little more generous.

Harry Stine, the founder of Stine Seed Co. in Iowa, informed his 270 employees recently that they would be receiving a Christmas bonus from the company. This would not be a holiday turkey or a box of candy.

Stine gave employees $1,000 for each year of service to his company - more than $1 million in all.

Hansen said Stine's benevolence was based on his employees' loyalty and on the performance of a cluster of farming and agricultural businesses Stine owns.

"All of these people help me every day," Stine said. "So it's not a be-nice thing. It's just what should be done."

Doing just what should be done. I don't know of a better way of saying it. I am blessed to be here with my wife and my step-daughter. I am blessed to have a roof over our heads, food on the table, and friends to share the ups and downs of life. May you be as blessed and may God bless you every one.

Speaking of selfless acts of kindness, imagine how lonely it can be to be in the military and away from families and friends during the holiday season. Imagine not being there to see the kids eyes light up when they first spy the presents under the tree on Christmas day. Imagine missing their birthdays, family reunions, or just being there to comfort your child when they fall and scrape his or her knee. Then imagine the place you are posted to is Iraq. Iraq, not exactly the safest place to be if you are in the US military right now.

Trying to be as fair as possible, and realizing not everyone could be home for Christmas, a New Jersey Army National Guard unit held a lottery to determine who would be the lucky few to be where all of them yearned to be. Specialist Jonathan Hinker, husband and father of a seven-year-old, got a number way too high to realistically have a chance of going home. So you can probably imagine the disappointment he must of felt. To be away in a foreign land where not everyone is overjoyed to have you there. To miss the family festivities. To not be able to hold his wife and son.

However, another Specialist by the name of James Presnall drew a high enough number to go home. But instead of thinking of all of the things he could do with his family, he decided to give up his ticket home and allow Hinker to go instead.

Presnall, a 20-year-old Galloway Township native who is not married, had planned to spend his leave with his parents, Howard and Toni Presnall. While disappointed about not seeing their son, they were overjoyed to learn of their son's selfless act.

"We told him we'd love to see him, but we are proud of him for doing this for a guy with a wife and young child," Toni Presnall said. While she and her husband saw Buffi Hinker at weekly meetings held for the unit members' families, they never told her what had happened because Jonathan Hinker -- who came home on Monday -- wanted to surprise his wife.

Buffi Hinker, a secretary for the Lower Township Police Department, has also been running the family limousine business since her husband shipped out in April. While doing all that work and caring for a young child leaves her little free time, she is not complaining.

"They (American troops) are doing something that's very important, so I'm able to go without a lot of sleep and get it done," she said. "It means everything to me that my son considers (his father) a hero. My husband wouldn't be the man he is if he didn't do this."

'tis the season so I am posting what I call the Good News for Modern Man.

How does kicking four successful field goals in a US football game make you to the goat? Read on and find out.

High school football in Hawai'i is like golf is to Scotland. Indeed, sometimes it seems like high school itself is more important than college (If someone from Hawai'i asks you where you graduated from they are asking what high school you went to).

So you can probably imagine how important high school football in Hawai'i is. And for many years, football in Hawai'i was dominated by one high school in particular: St. Louis High. The little Catholic school on the slopes above Honolulu was founded in 1846 and is a local powerhouse when it comes to football.

So it was the championship game for the year. All the months of preparation and hard work came down to this. Win this game, and you were on top of the world. Lose it, and there's always next year. But in this, in this game, it came down to one play.

The score was St. Louis 26 and cross-island rival Kahuku (itself founded in 1893 and now has students predominantly from Mormon families) 27. Time was running out. With 19 seconds left, St. Louis tried a 55-yard (~50m) field goal. The snap from the center spun on its axis in a lazy almost slow motion arc into the hands of the waiting holder. He placed it down perfectly and watched as the kicker stepped forward and kicked the ball towards the hopes and dreams of his team, family, and alumni. But 55-yards was 10 yards too far and the ball fell short of the goal post uprights. The Kahuku players and fans go wild, screaming with joy over their victory.

But wait, there's a flag on the play. A defender tackled the kicker after the punt was on its way. The foul moves the ball 15-yards (~14m) closer to the goal. Again, the teams line up. Again, all eyes are on the young man in the red and blue uniform. A young man who has already successfully kicked four field goals earlier in the game. The ball is snapped. The kick is away. And again . . . he misses. But this time, there is no foul and there is no time left. Game over. Kahuku wins and St. Louis loses.

Pandemonium breaks out again as the Kahuku players and fans celebrate their hard fought victory. All of the Kahuku players that is, except for two. These two see the St. Louis kicker still down on one knee, devastated by the loss. One can only imagine the mental anguish that must have been going though the kicker's mind as his head hung down, dejected. These two Kahuku players, seeing the pain of their opponent, come over to console the player only moments before they would have glady run into the ground.

Afa Garrigan, a 17-year-old Kahuku senior, is on the left, his head bent close to Santiago like he's saying something.

"I told him, 'You did good, brah. You did really good in this game," Garrigan said.

Mauhe Moala, a 17-year-old junior, is on the right, his arm curled around Santiago in a gesture of support.

Both Garrigan and Moala said they acted out of respect for the talented player Santiago is and the knowledge of how heart breaking the loss must be.

"I don't know him," Garrigan said. "All I know is that he's a really, really good kicker."

"I remember when I was in Pop Warner," Moala said. "It was our championship game. I was playing hard, and we lost and then a person I was going up against, he came up to me and said the same thing to me. It made a difference."

Garrigan said it didn't really cross his mind that he was consoling an opponent. "Not an opponent," he said, "just another player. That's sportsmanship."

Santiago doesn't really remember what the Kahuku players said to him, only that in that difficult moment, they told him to keep his head up.

"It could have been a really bitter loss. I mean, I wasn't happy that we lost, but because of the sportsmanship that they showed, it made it a lot easier to let go. It really meant a lot to me, " Santiago said. "I don't even know them personally, but it feels like we're friends. I have a lot of respect for the Kahuku players, especially after the support they showed us. They could have been jumping around and celebrating with their teammates, but they chose to talk to me. It's something I'll always remember."

The moment lasted only a few seconds and come next year, the players will be trying again, as hard as they can, to beat each other. But these two players showed, through their selfless action, what true sportsmanship is all about.

Left to right: Garrigan, Moala, and Santiago

Sometimes, the choices people make are not good ones. By that I mean the choices lead them down roads that can only bring about personal ruin. Like, for example, Roy. Roy was, and still is, a surfer. A good one. He won several national surf meets.

But in Roy's younger days, he chose to start partaking of a lifestyle involved with taking drugs. The more drugs he took the more he wanted. In order to get the money to buy drugs he started stealing it from his friends and family. Needless to say, after awhile, he didn't have many good friends left. But he did have a bunch of bad ones. So he became an entrepreneur and started selling drugs to them so he could make even more money to buy more drugs.

But as sometimes happens, he awoke to the realization that he could not continue to live like that for very much longer. That his chosen lifestyle would end up killing him sooner, rather than later.

In local fashion, Roy humbly gives credit to his children for opening his eyes to his problems. But I think Roy himself deserves the credit here. Roy turned his life around, gave up the drugs, and decided to try to repay society for the things he had done.

As part of that, Roy reckoned if he could guide at least one youngster away from the path he had chosen, he would have done good. Being a surfer, he decided to start a charity longboard surfing contest. While the money generated from the entrance fees have certainly helped the charities involved, the biggest pay-back has been the changes to the people, especially the keiki, who entered the contest.

Roy acted as a respected elder, explaining, cajoling, and guiding these keiki into paths away from drugs by keeping them focused on the discipline required to surf well. This weekend will mark the 20th anniversary of the event. The event has grown to more than 300 entrants in several divisions.

Eight years ago, Roy noticed that most surf contests had no place for the wahine. So he started one. His second charity contest is only for females and gives them a chance to have their day in the sun. It is now one of the bigger, if not the biggest wahine surf contest in the world with two to three hundred contestants entered each year. The most recent wahine contest, held this past June, included Bethany Hamilton, who had previously lost an arm to a shark attack. Hamilton won her event and donated the $1,000 prize to the Sex Abuse Treatment Center (the charity for this event).

It is amazing to me how some people can turn their lives around and by doing so, have a positive ripple effect that touches thousands of others.

Roy "China" Uemura is one of those people.

This is a story about two families. Malia had a large, high energy family. It included her husband and six animated but well-behaved children. As is the case with most Hawaii families, both parents worked. In fact, to make ends meet, both Malia and her husband each worked two jobs. His was two full-time jobs and hers was one full-time and one half-time serving food at a restaurant.

As you can probably guess, the family was not rich. At least, not in the common sense of the word. Yet, what the family had was worth more than all the money some of their rich neighbors had. What Malia's family had was love. Love for each other and love for their neighbors (even the rich ones), friends, and God.

Each year, as it came close to Christmas, Malia's husband would start planning the house decorations for their humble abode. Where he found the time to do this no one ever could say but it seemed he would out do himself each year. Year after year he would add more lights and figures. He would sing to himself as he strung the lights around the windows, up the side of the house, over the roof and to the tree limbs. With so many lights, you could see his house from miles away due to the glow in the sky. Guided by that light in the dark sky, thousands would come to marvel at the sight.

But one bright summer morning, as Malia's husband was driving the kids to summer school, a speeding drunk driver slammed his car into their van, slicing the van into pieces and killing everyone except the drunk driver himself.

When the police reached Malia at work to tell her of the sad news, she could not believe that her entire family had been taken from her. It was a very dark time for her. Malia fell into a deep depression. A depression so deep she began to question God and how He could have allowed this. Her depression lasted for over a year. Then another year. And yet another as she struggled to find meaning in what had happened.

Towards the end of the third year, when the cool winter breezes began to flow down from the mountains a change came over her. While her heart was still filled with darkness a small flame of hope began to sputter. Day by day, it grew bringing light to her life and with it a plan began to form in her heart.

Malia decided she would continue on where he husband had left off. She would once again decorate the house as a memorial to his spirit and the life she once had.

She began by pulling out the lights that had laid collecting dust for lo these many years. While doing so, Malia was surprised to find something that her husband had been working on before he had died. She carefully checked to make sure everything was still in working order and then began to install what her husband had been working on. It took her almost a week to get everything set just right, but by December 24th, she was done. All there was yet to do was to throw the switch that would once again light the way to her house.

During this time, our other family, neighbors across the street headed by a man named Iokepa, was having their own problems. It seems Iokepa liked to drink. Sometimes too much. And when he got drunk, he would become full of rage. A rage he took out on his wife and two children. It got to a point in which his wife, fearing for her and her children's lives, took the children and fled to the mainland.

Iokepa too became depressed. But rather than feeling the healing hands of time, he spiraled ever downward. The days became just a blur until early one evening, he decided he would end what passed for his poor existence.

He dragged himself to the bedroom closet where he kept his gun and ammunition. By then, it had gotten dark and what with the electrify long since turned off for non-payment, he carried the gun and ammunition to the living room facing the street. He collapsed onto the worn out couch and with what little light there was from the street light a block away, he began to slowly, methodically, load the pistol that would finally take his misery away from him.

Just as Iokepa raised the gun to his head, he was startled by a bright light that suddenly appeared across the street. A light that made him close his eyes and put the gun down so he could shield his bloodshot eyes. A light that came from thousands of little bulbs strung by Malia and brought to life by a throw of a switch.

Iokepa staggered to the window and as tears streamed down his face, Iokepa gazed at the beautiful scene. It was of a manger, filled with straw and a baby wrapped against the cold in a blanket. And around the manger were His earthly parents and visitors from far away. But what drew his gaze the most was the huge star, glittering in the dark night. A star created by Malia's husband years ago and now showing the way to life.

It's Christmas Eve and from the Seto household we wish you Peace, Love, and Light.

Have a Merry Christmas, Everyone - Aloha!

There are at least two lessons that still need to be learned from Earthquake Sunday.

The first is why was shutting down all the electrical generators is seen as the only way to prevent damage to the system (or as HECO, our local electric company, repeatedly put it: to prevent "further damage" to the system. Further damage? What damage was there to begin with?).

Yes, I know, at first HECO said the computers were programed to do the shutdown but that begs the question of who programs the computers? I guess that's why they are now saying it was the "heroic" efforts of its employees who shut down the system. Well, which is it?

In order to prevent this happening again, surely there must be other options short of building totally redundant systems (which is the straw man argument that the electric company trotted out this week). Heck, if I wanted to spend thousands of dollars to "guild" the system I could better use it to buy solar panels and batteries.

The second lesson relates to communications - or the lack there of. There is an old saying that the first casualty in war is the truth. One could say the same thing in a disaster.

In a communication vacuum where accurate and timely information is lacking, rumors will abound. And in a rumor rich environment, people may react in non-productive ways. People need information to make informed decisions. But if they can't get information, they will sometimes make it up.

I wasn't listening to the radio during the entire Sunday morning but from what I understand, the first government official on the air was a couple of hours into the blackout.

In the mean time, we had people from all over calling in to the one operating radio station and saying all kinds of things. Now, most of this was, I'm sure, accurate information, but who knows if all of it was.

In fact, some of what was said over the radio was from foreign speaking individuals supposedly telling non-English speaking people what was going on. Or was it? Who knows.

But as far as I know, at no time did anyone from any government agency speak to foreign language individuals (of which there are many since visitors from Asia and Europe make up a large percentage of the population at any one time).

Now, as to whether Civil Defense should have sounded the emergency sirens. In this case I agree with the Civil Defense folks that since no tsunami was generated it would have been inappropriate to sound the sirens. I mean, the sirens are I think intended to warn people of the high probability of an impending disaster. Clearly, in this case, nothing was impending once the earthquakes occurred.

However, I do think it would have been appropriate to use the TV and radio system emergency broadcast system, within minutes rather than hours of the earthquake, to let everyone know what was known at the time (e.g., the location of the epicenter, the magnitude, and whether a tsunami was generated).

I'm no expert on any of the above, but the explanations given so far just don't pass the BS test.

Have a Great Weekend, Everyone - Aloha!