Da Chainsaw: Trolls, Toes and Trump                     Nov. 8, 2016

 

Da chainsaw is a crude but efficient tool. It appears to be designed to trim the toenails of gruesome ogres or shave the hair off leathery trolls. Either way, it does the job and really fast.

Well, today, da chainsaw was in the hands of a fairly giant size, handsome, young gentleman starting to cut away the tangled jungle of trees surrounding mom’s collapsing house. He was guided by another fairly giant size, handsome, older gentleman who happened to be Mr. Sammy. With serious glances and subtle gestures, Mr. Sammy instructed his apprentice tree trimmer/nephew as if he were a star athlete at a private training camp. Instead of a dump pile of sad memories, it became an obstacle course intended to sharpen the skills of an already gifted sportsman.

For me, an unexpected observer, it did not feel like a sporting event. It felt like watching a soul surgeon, expertly removing ancient tumors of sorrow and blockages from the hearts of my ancestors. I held back tears of joy and horror not knowing what was happening to my own attachment to sorrow and blockages within my own heart. Yet, I knew I was connected to this life saving procedure as if it were my body and soul needing salvation from a catastrophic dis-ease. Was my restless spirit about to experience peace before death? Right now? In Hanapepe? At Mom’s House?

It was too weird to watch anymore. I scurried to my storage shed/cabin, retrieved my voting list of democratic candidates and drove to the Hanapepe Senior Center to vote. To get there, I needed to cross a small bridge stretched over the also small, narrow and shallow Hanapepe river. There, at the dusty Hanapepe Senior Center, awaited the fate of our nation. Held in the humble confines of community voting booths across the United States of America was the completion of the most absurd and bizarre presidential political campaign known to human history. Chuckling silently to myself, walking toward the voting booth, I replayed in my mind, the Saturday Nite Live parody of the Hillary Clinton vs Donald Trump debate. The extreme hilarity ( no pun intended) of it all helped me balance my perspective on the day’s events. I figured there must be a cosmic joke; therefore, cosmic wisdom somewhere within our obviously crazed humanity. After I voted, sitting in my car at the neighborhood Salvation Army Thrift store parking lot, I began to doubt my own sanity. Privately I prayed, “ Please GOD,PLEASE Bless America and I know you’re real busy, but if you got a minute, please bless da chainsaw, Mr. Sammy and his nephew, too.”