TWEET, TWEET HEY

So, I've been gone for a few days.  Here are a couple "Tweets" to let you know where I've been, what I have done and what I failed to do, what I will remember to do again and what I remember not to repeat again.

Isn't this the Hula Queen?  Really,
she's Hapa - Anything

1. I went to Anaheim, California to attend a gala special Mass centered on the American Indian Culture.
This was to celebrate the upcoming canonization of Kateri Tekakwitha, the Mohawk maiden who died some 400 years go in the northeastern corner of North America. This picture captures the "sanctuary" with the presiding priest, an indigenous person who always celebrates the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass with his feathers in hand.  The music was Tom-tom and the procession into the worship space was danced in the American Indian way, keeping time with feet and body movements as dictated by the drum beat.  When American Indians are celebrating, they don't walk anywhere, they dance to get there.  What an attitude!  I love it. The Mass was very emotional.  I could really carry on, but I have another "Tweet" or two for you.
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2. The evening before we went to a ramen (Ramen is Japanese for a sort of noodle soup.) house that #2 son wanted to taste again.  So we want.  Now you have to understand that ramen houses are holes in the wall, never to be confused with the much more upscale sushi bar.  Ramen houses are very likely to have steam pipes running overhead and all kinds of noises emanating from behind the counter [the kitchen, actually].  Ramen houses do not have any pretensions of being genteel.  No sireee.  They are "Popeye, the Sailor Man" kinds of places.  Good food?  If that's what you like.  Good prices?  Not on your life.  Ambience? That's good for the French.  So I had the #2, one-half size chicken ramen.  It was chicken, but I think that all the chicken it had was in the name.  What it lacked in chicken it made up for in salt. I haven't had anything this well preserved ever since I accidentally got a small swig of the Dead Sea.  I can still taste them both.
You can tell, that this is the one thing that I did that I will remember not to repeat again.

          x=x=x=x=x=x=x=x

3. Lastly, there's the story about the Marriott Hotel fish and chips that I had for dinner.  This was a magnificent opportunity to sit and enjoy the company of a person whom Belle and had not seen for many, many years.  it was for me a great opportunity for that reason and for the satisfaction that I always get to be in the aura of "old folks."  That is she, in the traditional shawl of the American Indian woman, standing there between me and next to the "Hapa-Anything" squaw.  She treated us to the dinner and it was wonderful.  We just sat there and enjoyed one another for the time that we were together.  We parted after the meal with promises to visit one another again soon.  Human beings always do that.  It's a rare occasion that we bid one another a "fond" Adieu and sincerely mean it.  The last time I did that was when Christina and I took our final leave.  It's a good read, even if I do say it about something I wrote.

Anyway it was a fine evening with Josephine.

The fish and chips, you ask?

Damn near killed me.  But I'm OK now.
This was the Marriott, not a ramen house!  Hmmmm.  
I won't sue.  Being with my American Indian friend and the fake "Hapa" can't ever be repaid anyway.

4. Oh, I forgot.  What I failed to do?  I failed to take my laptop with me so that I could write to you all.  I forgot it, I really did.  "Please believe me, let me go..."

GREAT WALRUS ATTENDS SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA POW-WOW

THE JINGLING BELLS DANCE

Great Walrus is an Indian Brave who is long past his prime.  For the first time in his life he was able to attend a real-life Pow Wow of pure ethnic Native Americans.  Great Walrus was officially given his name by a Narragansett Indian during a small campfire site pow-wow at a reservation situated on the shores of majestic Mascoma Lake in New Hampshire.  This reservation was privately owned by the Missionaries of Our Lady of LaSalette and was the site of an exclusive summer camp for boys who came from New England, New York and New Jersey to get away from the urban life that they led during the other ten months of the year. Great Walrus was a daring brave.  He could enjoy the chilly waters of Mascoma Lake beginning from the middle of May and into the early part of September.  His bravery was rewarded when he was given his headband, Rhode Island Red Rooster Tail feather and his name during the above stated event.  Though the headband and feather have long since disappeared, Great Walrus still carries his name proudly.

Today was especially remarkable because so many American Indians came together to celebrate family, friends, alliances, stories, dances and friendly drumming, singing and dance competitions.  Young and old were joined together in a six hour celebration of cultural unity.  It is an experience that I will never forget.  I had many thoughts run through my head and my heart this afternoon.  Let me just throw out the most daring and the most powerful.  I am convinced that I was looking at an image of the people of the Bible.  I was present at a venue where the activities were the commemoration of rituals that go back multiple thousands of years.  I was witnessing human memory at its strongest.  I was witnessing TRADITION like few of us ever experience.  The rituals were being practiced by young and old alike in a community that respected them all with equal dignity.  The music was created by the simplest and oldest of instruments, the drum and the human voice.  I saw all this take place in a spirit of unity on a plot of land dedicated to such rituals by the people who once roamed this land in unfettered freedom.  For six hours on this day, these sa...es celebrated centuries of culture in tranquil community.  This celebration, and others to follow all around North America during this Summer Season, keep the reality of the holiness of the land alive before them and before those of us who care to celebrate it.  I have been reborn, a new child of the Land that I love...Not the U.S.A. ... The land of God and of the North American Native.