Echoes of war

In honour of the sesquicentennial of the Gettysburg Address, and also of our visit to that famous site in this auspicious year, I want to tell you about a movement that is afoot to encourage people of all ages to memorize, study, and apply the 272 words that were spoken by Abraham Lincoln on November 19th, 1863. You can go here to read more about it.

Meanwhile, here it is, complete with appropriate photos taken one day before the government shutdown.

If that's not ironic, I don't know what is.

 

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth, on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure.

We are met on a great battle-field of that war.

We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live.

It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate - we can not consecrate - we can not hallow - this ground.

The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract.

The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.

It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced.

It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -

 that from these honored dead we take take increased devotion to that cause for which they here gave the last full measure of devotion -

 that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -

that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -

and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

Interestingly, Lincoln was not the big draw for the crowd at the cemetery dedication; it was Edward Everett, one of the time's great orators. He spoke for two hours, recalling other civil wars from the history books, and was much lauded. Lincoln himself thought that his words would be of "little note, nor long remembered", yet today, his two-minute speech lives on as one of the greatest speeches of his career.

And I challenge you to memorize it by the end of October. 

Feel free to leave me a comment when you complete the challenge.

And you thought I was done...

Odds and ends from Kaua'i that didn't fit in to other posts.

I mentioned that Honolulu Airport was of the open-air variety. There were several pigeons (or doves, or something) wandering around eating little tidbits from the floor, and sometimes scaring us by flying close to our heads. It wasn't until almost the end of our long layover that we noticed they all had injured feet. Most were missing toes, one was missing its whole foot.

On the way home, we asked one of the ticket agents why that was, and she said it was because they sit on power lines. 

A dubious explanation at best.

So the mystery remains.

I have mentioned the outdoor showers.

This is the second one.

The one with all the mosquitoes.

Other than the pesky mozzies, I thought it was kind of a nice idea.

Except for in the morning when there was no hot water because the water is solar-powered.

The tricky part is the no door thing, which we somewhat alleviated by tying my beautiful new sarong across it.

Which brings me to another point, ladies.

If you ever go to Hawaii, you need a sarong. Sarongs have many uses, as illustrated above. Some days, when we returned to the cottage, all hot and sweaty and tired, it was heavenly to strip off and go native in the sarong. I'm afraid that if I lived there, you would have trouble getting me to wear real clothes.

Carrying on.

Our "rustic" cottage was a haven for pooping geckos and many varieties of insects. I am pretty sure I saw a few cockroaches, and the ants appeared every time there was something lying around that looked remotely like food. 

Take, for example, this one. I was sitting on the gecko-poopy couch one afternoon, reading The Book, and I happened to look down on the floor. A few tiny ants were scouting around and one had found this rather large beetle. Darn me if the ant didn't manage to pull the beetle a few inches. He gave up and we left the cottage a short time thereafter, but when we returned, the beetle was gone. I have to assume that Mr. Ant gathered his friends and subsequently demolished Mr. Beetle.

Pretty impressive.

We have not discussed the chickens of Kaua'i, other than to complain about the roosters crowing at night. 

The joke is that chickens, especially roosters, are Kauai's state bird. All kinds of touristy paraphernalia sport slogans and pictures of the colourful roosters.

They rule parking lots, highway shoulders, back yards, everywhere. 

Little chicks following their mom is a common sight.

This is the garden of our first rental. See the chickens on the grass?

Rooster by the ficus trees of Allerton Gardens.

The reason for the prevalence of feral chickens on Kaua'i is debated, but it is certain that the Polynesians brought them to the islands as a food source. The numbers seemed to proliferate after Hurricane Iniki, when many chicken coops were destroyed and cockfighting roosters were also released. Add to that the lack of any predators on the island and I guess it's a perfect storm for an abundance of chickens. 

They say that the chickens are tough old birds and not worth cooking. 

I say, Let me at 'em. I would find a way to make them edible.

On our last night, we drove up to Hanalei to see the McMasters in concert. Doug is a masterful slack key guitarist and Sandy accompanies on a tenor ukelele. 

Slack key is a fascinating and gorgeous style of guitar music. The evening was one of the highlights of our trip. Sandy's talk of aloha and how it can affect our lives deeply affected me. Doug has to be seen to be believed. He is so relaxed and his fingers move so easily on the frets that his guitar almost looks like it is playing itself.

I highly recommend watching this short video for an extremely abbreviated history and explanation of slack key guitar.

You can see more of Doug's playing style in this video, as well as some of the island sights. 

Slack key guitar is probably the most relaxing music I have ever heard.

It rained hard the night before we left and Saturday was grossly humid. We decided it was a good day to be leaving. We hung out at Starbucks in Kapa'a for a few hours, enjoying the air conditioning and using their wi-fi. One more casualty before we left. I got caught up in my netbook cord as I arose from my chair and the Acer fell to the floor, damaging one of the hinges. It still works, but doesn't close properly.

This trip was a bit wearing on our belongings. 

And our bodies, considering I came home with about a hundred mosquito bites. 

Jeff got about ten, but his nose was much more sun-burned than mine.

By the time we were about to embark on the second leg of our flight home, we were feeling very travel-weary. So when the ticket agent offered first class upgrades for a couple of hundred each, I looked at Jeff, he looked back at me, and I said "Wanna do it?"

So we did it.

It was the best six-hour flight of our lives. To be honest, it was somewhat intimidating. We had no idea how to work all the gizmos on the seats and we were constantly making gaffes that showed up our first-class naivete. 

Jeff slept the whole time and I didn't want to get off the plane when we arrived at San Fran. 

It may be a dangerous precedent.

Things I loved about Kaua'i:

It's a small island. Everything is within about an hour's drive if you stay somewhere central.

Gorgeous scenery. Everywhere.

Snorkeling.

Church.

Shopping. We spent hours looking for the perfect Hawaiian shirt for Jeff, who is very picky.

Slack key guitar. If we ever go again (which is doubtful) I would go to several concerts.

Hiking. Especially accidental hiking friends, whom you meet wherever you go.

Costco.

Art galleries. I would have come home with so much more art if we had checked luggage and if Jeff didn't get that look on his face every time I suggest we buy something.

Pineapples.

Gingerbread Rental Cars.

Ficus trees.
Jeff's list: 
Driving. The speed limit never goes above 50 mph.
The boat ride.
The helicopter ride.
Snorkeling.
Zip lines.
The Alaka'i Swamp.
Hawaiian shirts.

Things I didn't like:

Mosquitoes. But you already knew that.

Pooping geckos.

Mosquitoes.

Stall owners at the markets who would tell you anything to get you to buy their wares. I'm pretty sure they were all liars.

Angry men with pit bulls.

Roosters crowing in the middle of the night.

Tour guides who tell you a bunch of baloney. 

Gratuities.

Shave ice.
Jeff's list:

Wasps.
Outside showers.

And that, I think, is that.
Hope you had fun along with us.
Next stop: Gettysburg and the little darlings in North Carolina.

Some beaches

The question has been raised, "What about the beaches?"

The short answer is, Jeff and I are not lazing-on-the-beach kind of people. 

In fact, Jeff doesn't like to do anything on the beach, as you will see later.

However, shortly after we arrived on Kaua'i, and on the recommendation of our hostess, Sunni, we drove a little way along the road and found this, Moloa'a Beach. Our room was very hot, it was early evening, and I talked the driver into donning our swimsuits and going swimming.

The sun was low in the sky on the other side of the island and the sky was a delicious tint of sunset.

The water was warm, but dropped off rather alarmingly about three feet from the shore. That, combined with all the rocks, made me reluctant to immerse myself. Jeff was wearing shoes. I said, Why don't you take those off? So he did. And then we climbed on a rock and he slipped and cut his finger rather badly.

So we hurried back to the house, blood dripping from his finger, and I constructed a bandage for his finger from gauze and Scotch tape. The house was chillingly unprepared in the way of First Aid supplies. I ferreted in the bathroom cabinet and found some thyme oil, which I applied liberally, hoping its claims of being an aid to healing were true. 

His finger healed quickly, so I have become a fan of thyme oil.

We didn't hit the beach again until our second-to-last day, when we were somewhat weary of adventures. Jeff was reluctant, as usual, but I told him that I had endured queasiness and bruises for his sake, so he could jolly well follow me to some beaches.

First, we went back to Moloa'a Beach and it was much nicer. The trees were shady and the breeze was cooling. This old Hawaiian was fishing rather successfully. He was happy to show us his catch and describe to us, in great detail, how he was going to cook it.

We finally found a nice, unoccupied, shady tree and made ourselves comfortable.

Well, one of us did.

And it wasn't Jeff.

This is his idea of relaxing at the beach.

I, on the other hand, lay down on my towel and enjoyed the view.

This, in front...

...and this, if I tilted my head back.

Even further.

Watching the ocean got boring after a while, so we headed back to the car.

See how we are?

I got scared by a black crab on the rocks on the way back and nearly fell on my face.

I like how the locals sit on the tangled roots of these trees.

We drove north to Larsen Beach, which was given a good review in The Book. It was a steep hike down to the beach. It is a very rocky beach.

I walked around on the edge of the tide for a while, just so that it wasn't a waste of a short, steep hike.

And then I went and lay on the sand.

It wasn't as peaceful as the last beach, and I could feel Jeff getting antsy.

So we left.

Buh-bye, Larsen Beach.

And that was the short, sweet story of our Kaua'i beaches.

Pitiful, eh?