The more things stay the same the more they change

Or whatever it is that the French say because you know how the French are.  Also saying quotable things.

So on this recent trip I became acutely aware of how things have changed.  Same island.  But wow.  Different life for sure.

When I was sixteen I was a tourist, thrilled by the sight of palm trees.  I ate Chinese food three times because apparently Chinese food hadn't been invented in Provo yet.

When I was seventeen and eighteen I was a granddaughter, visiting my Mormon missionary grandparents who lived on the sleepy side of the island.

When I was twenty-one, I was recovering from a major depressive episode.  I sat on the beach for three weeks and let Hawaii heal me.  Also, that was the time one of Dad's former players--a Honolulu cop--drove us to the airport with his squad car lights flashing, which allowed him to run red lights at will.  Awesome.

When I was forty-seven I watched my five boys play at being tourists.  They also ate a lot of Chinese food.

And when I was sixty-one I sat on the veranda with my mother, drinking virgin pina coladas and playing cards like we were two maiden aunts in an Agatha Christie novel.

Life in stages, don't you know.

Oahu Memories

So TRQ and I have been in Honolulu because the Coach is being honored at the Polynesian Hall of Fame banquet.  This has given us an opportunity to remember all things Hawaiian.

You know.  Like that time we were here for a month and a friend loaned us a Trans Am, so we drove all over the island--the Coach and Jimmy in the front seat, TRQ and me in the back seat--listening to CCR.

But here's the moment I remembered this morning--that time we drove the Trans Am past Goo's Store on the other side of the island where a kid sat loose-limbed on the front step.  As we passed he gave us the hang loose sign and yeah.  I did feel like all that and a bag of damn chips, too.

I Know I'm Not Young

. . . but I was surprised today to see that tired, lined face looking back at me from the storefront's plate-glass window.  My face.

Moments like these present an opportunity for me to remember that my body is a teacher.  A child's body teaches some things.  An adolescent body teaches others.  A young adult body teaches still others.  And so it goes.

OK.  Done being philosophical.  Time to go eat some more of TRQ's bridge mix.

When Adult Children Surprise You

I told Second Son that his grandmother and I will be going to Oahu soon where we will decamp on Waikiki Beach.  This is the text conversation that followed.

HIM:  You have to go to Murakami Udon.

ME:  What's that?

HIM:  It's a Japanese udon noodle place.  It's on Kuhio Ave literally the next street behind your hotel.

ME:  Oooooooo!

HIM:  The noodles are big fat Japanese noodles and you add in your preferred spices and meats and whatnot.  Then you can add tempura.  It's one of the best things I've ever had and it's really cheap.  Like $8.00 a person.

ME:  Heaven!!!

HIM:  Grandma will like it too.  And literally it's a 4 or 5 minute walk from your hotel.

ME:  Excellent!

HIM:  I went like three times last year.

ME:  Grandma is always hungry.  It's the first thing she talks about in the morning.  Food.

HIM:  Of course.  It's very important on vacation.

ME:  Grandma will be game!  Recommendations?

HIM:  I got hot Udon in one of the broths and any of the tempura is good.  Japanese food is great because it's fancy deep fried shit.

ME:  I just read this out loud to your grandmother.

HIM:  The curry udon and niku udon were my favorite.  Nike is a broth with a light fish and seaweed flavor with caramelized onions and sweet beef.

Okay.  This is where I paused.  I wanted to say, "Who are you?"  Food is important if you have the Edwards DNA.  It just is.  But this?  This is a notch above.  Caramelized onions?  Sweet beef? I was surprised by the level of engagement and intensity.  The only time this kid ever cried in his life was when the Cubs won the World Series.

HIM:  I literally just copied the menu.  (It's online.)

Okay again.  Still surprised by my kid.  Just not as much.  

Talk about collusion

I've spent a lot of energy detesting Donald Trump over the past year and a half, but my loathing reached new levels when CNN reported that Trump delighted in the consternation caused by his comment about shithole countries.  I could practically hear him cackle.  LOOK AT ME!  I'M THE CENTER OF ATTENTION!

And that's when I decided I'm not going to spend another ounce of emotional energy on the man.  I am not colluding with him anymore.

He's there.  I can't do anything about that fact.  I can only turn off the TV and refuse to click onto any stories about him online.  Done feeding the troll, you know?

The Way We Are Now

A few Christmases ago I caught Ken Cannon secretly watching the Hallmark Channel.  Like, a lot.

"Wait," I'd say.  "Are you secretly watching the Hallmark Channel?"

"No," he'd say.

But I kept catching him at it.

"Wait," I'd say.  "Are you secretly watching the Hallmark Channel?"

"A little," he'd say.  "But the movies are really stupid."  Which, apparently, is the reason he'd always change the channel when I'd walk into the room.

And then last Christmas he stopped changing the channel.  He just owned it.  He, Ken Cannon, likes Hallmark Christmas movies.  And now he's watching the cozy mysteries they produce, too.

Which brings me to a description of our new reality as a couple.  He's downstairs watching the Hallmark Channel.  I'm upstairs watching a game.  I don't even care which game it is as long as it's a game.

And there you have it.  Old Love.

A confession

Sometimes when I hear stories about Donald Trump--and it's REALLY hard not to hear stories about Donald Trump these days--I start to worry.  Am I Trump-ish?

I ask this question because as it turns out I (apparently) share some of the same qualities decried about 45.  To wit--

1.  I have a short attention span.
2.  I am ADHD.
3.  I don't read instructions.

I haven't heard anybody actually say that third thing about the president but I'm assuming this is the case because of #1 and #2 and clearly the man didn't read the instruction manual called A Nation and How to Run One before entering office.

It's been sobering to see the worst of my characteristics played out on cable network news for all the world to see.  But I can totally promise you this--I will NOT start a nuclear war.

You're welcome.

Maybe slightly melancholy here

Normally I write my column over the weekend.  But that column, for now, has been eliminated.

Honestly, I was surprised that it went on as long as it did.  I first started up in 1985 for Parent Express, carried on at The Deseret News, and moved over to The Tribune.  So you see it was about a 30 year run.  Can't complain about that.

Right now I'm viewing this as an opportunity to do something else.  I'm enjoying the advice column gig.  And maybe I'll get my butt in gear and start writing novels again.  But yeah.  It'll be weird not to send something to the paper first thing Monday morning.

Wait.  I KNOW!  I'LL BLOG!

Happy New Year, Everyone!

What I Wish For Today, Part 1

I wish Ken Cannon could stay home with me today so I'd be able to help him shout at the TV.

Ken Cannon thinks he's a very shy, very retiring person.  But he's not.  He lives out loud, which is one of his many charms.  He is especially fond of having noisy, extended conversations with all those Talking Heads on TV.  And he was in fine form this morning with the rushed publication (Henry Holt says, "THANK YOU, MR. PRESIDENT) of Fire and Fury: Inside the Trump White House this morning.  He had plenty to say, of course.

Plenty. To. Say.