Weavers Of Worlds and Dreams

I've spent the last four days with people who weave dreams and worlds with words. The Writer's Weekend near Seattle was a combination of work, excitement, and laughter. Attendees included the elite of the world of books, editors and agents, along with those wonderful inspirations, published authors, and those of us who hoped to find that magical moment that might push us across the great divide from unpublished to published writer.

You who are out there struggling to publish that first book, story, poem or play might be surprised to learn that agents and editors are really human. They laugh; they impart information; they become exhausted; but most of all, I found them to be incredibly patient with all of us as we asked question after question both in and out of the workshop sessions.

My conference experience went stratospheric when an agent said, “I want you to send me your book.” It took all I had not to scream right there in the room. Someone was willing to give my book a serious read. Those are words of gold to an aspiring writer. Another golden moment was when an editor spent her lunch hour helping me to understand the workings of her publishing company and assuring me that my manuscript wasn't lost in the piles and piles filling the acquiring editor's office.

Old friendships were renewed and new friendships were made. Long conversations were held over drinks, during meals or while standing in a hall holding up the walls. We laughed, some of us may have cried and all of us were inspired. It was a wonderful, wonderful weekend.

Now the work begins. I'm winging my way back to Hawaii with words singing in my head. I have a manuscript to send off and a new one to start. Would I change things? Not for the world. Words are alive; life among them is magical, and my journey is just beginning.

Color, Color, Color

I am starting on a new fiber adventure. I have dyed my own roving before, but I've never blended multiple colors together to form a yarn that was totally unique and my own. I'm following the information in Deb Menz “Color In Spinning” and doing lots of playing. The colors above are my choices to make my yarn. The wool is Blue Faced Leicester from Ashland Bay. The white is dog hair. I'll keep you posted as to my progress.

Memorial Day 2006

Kea`au, the town I live near, is a small plantation town. Although most of the old plantation buildings are gone, the plantation people are still here. This area was a Japanese camp. Most of the plantation workers in old Hawai`i were separated by race. One of the oldest churches in the area is the Buddhist temple. That temple has hosted an interdenominational, inter-cultural Memorial Day service since 1946. This year I attended.

I find that the two holidays set aside for our veterans are honored more here than in other place that I have lived. Maybe because so many of the people here are immigrants themselves or the children of immigrants. I was told by one of the Japanese Americans that on December 7, 1941, many citizens of Hawai`i but especially the Japanese had only minutes to decide where their loyalties lay. Think of it – your mother, your father, maybe your wife and children were in Japan and you must decide in an instant how you are going to live out this war. And most of them threw their future with their new land. The 100<sup>th</sup> Battalion of the 442<sup>nd</sup> Regimental Combat Team was made up of Japanese Americans from Hawai`i. Because they were not trusted, they were sent to the European war where they became the most decorated battalion who fought in WW II. And some of them did not come home. (Check out this web site for more history on these remarkable young men - http://www.katonk.com/442nd/442/page1.html )

These were the names first read in the roll call of honor at the service. The roll call progressed through the fallen from Puna, our district, for the Korean Conflict, the Vietnam War, and the current conflict in Iraq. With bagpipes playing Amazing Grace in the background, each name was read and a member of the family, or the community representing the family, took a bouquet of antheriums to the Veterans Memorial which was already decorated with large bouquets placed by many Veterans organizations. It was a stirring moment that for me was the center of the whole service.

Yes there were patriotic songs and speeches but having those names read and seeing the families come forth really spoke to me of what this and every Memorial Day is about – a time to remember our history and honor those who walked that lonesome road for all of us. My father was a veteran from WWII, the Korean conflict and Vietnam, but we were lucky. He died peacefully in his sleep at the ripe old age of 82. I pray that will be the fate of our men and women in uniform today.