Wisdom of a Hawaiian Grocery Bagger

When we arrived in Hawaii last Friday, our first stop was probably the most exciting part of the island: Costco.

I mean, for real, not only do they have food samples, but they have Hawaiian food samples. Like, for instance, pineapple-flavored shave ice, and some other weird fish noodly thing that I realized afterward that I probably shouldn't have tried but did anyway. I couldn't resist; it was free.

They also have way cooler merchandise. In Washington, we have rain boots and wet suits, but in Hawaii, they have surf boards and snorkel gear. I kind of wanted to buy one just for the sake of buying a surf board. Good thing it would have been too hard to transport on the plane, because they were way over my price range.

Finally, we made it to the checkout line with our week's worth of groceries. Our grocery bagger who we'll call Thomas (okay, so technically I probably can't call him a bagger since at Costco they don't use bags, but for the story's sake, he's a bagger) was a Hawaiian guy in his mid-twenties with long hair and tattoos on his arms. He was doing an expert job of packing our groceries in the cart. He carefully stacked the lettuce next to the crackers, under the plums so that everything fit like a puzzle. I was so impressed that I said, "You're such a good packer!"

He was quiet for awhile and continued working as his mouth sort of curled into a half-smile. I thought he was ignoring me, and frankly, I couldn't blame him. I probably would have ignored me too. Then he quietly said, "You learn to see the world in a different way."

Dude, that was deep.

Well, Thomas, I better start seeing the world in a very different way very quickly, because seeing how I leave for Jerusalem in just two days, I have a lot of packing to do this weekend.

And yes, we're such pathetic tourists that we take pictures of grocery shopping. Check out that packing job though.

Church: The Hawaiian Way

They say no matter where you go in the world, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is the same everywhere. That's because they've never been to church in Hawaii. I'm in Hawaii right now (and it's wonderful, by the way: beautiful, breezy, beachy and palm-treezy) and on Sunday, I went to church.

Now okay, the layout of church was the same. You've got your opening song, and the opening prayer, and the doctrine was all the same, but oh what a cultural experience it was. For starters, each member of the bishopric wore a brightly colored lei made of real flowers. They (and every speaker following them) began with the friendly, "Brothers and Sisters, Alooooha" (They like to stretch out the "o" part) and then the congregation would reply the same. The women wore flowers in their hair and decorative wood bracelets on their arms. Some of the men wore what looked like long black skirts with flip flops. My mom thinks they do it just as an excuse to wear sandals to church, but I say, heck, if the shoe fits! I guess they give a whole new meaning to the term "dress pants."

Since we are in a rather touristy part of town, the congregation gets quite the array of visitors every week, and it was easy to pick them out. The pews in the front were filled with regular ward members, and then the entire gym behind the chapel was completely packed with nervous, sun-burned tourists wearing weird combinations of jeans and a tie, a beach sarong because they forgot a skirt (me? Never) or nice slacks with sandals. There were so many of them, they literally out-numbered the regulars.

My family was privileged with front-row seats to what was about to be the best Sabbath-day entertainment ever. We sat directly behind a precious little Hawaiian family with four or five (it was hard to tell who's kids were whom's) of some of the most unruly kids I've ever seen. But oh, they were cute little devils.

The mother was a large woman with curly black hair and a flowery dress. She held an overgrown ping-pong paddle turned decorative fan that was covered in black stencil designs and braided palm leaves. Its true purpose quickly became evident, however, when this fan doubled as a naughty-kid swatter. It was well used too. Little girl talking too loudly? THWAP. Little boy making faces at little girl? THWAP. Kids arguing over bag of baby goldfish? THWAP THWAP. What an efficient little invention.

I was quite impressed though, with just how well the oldest girl knew her mother's swatting range. While the mom held the baby (whose diaper she just changed, by the way, on her lap, pausing only to take a piece of bread from the sacrament tray (and evoking some gagging from the seat behind)) her arm could only swat so far, and this girl stood in the aisle, dancing so that the fan brushed not one inch from her nose. Then of course, she sneered at her mother, who then passed the fan to the other woman sitting in the row, whom we'll call "Auntie." Seconds later, the fan came crashing down on little girl's head. Ha!

The father of this little family only lasted about five minutes, when he decided the barely-walking toddler was too antsy and needed to be taken outside. We didn't see him again until the last five minutes. Smart man.

The theme of the meeting was about speaking kind words to one another and so at one point, the speaker was talking about how if you literally hold your tongue with your fingers, you can't say a word. (Go ahead, try it. I know you want to) This caused the little girl to stick out her tongue as far as she could to lick Auntie's fingers. And holy smokes, besides that guy from KISS, I don't think I've ever seen a longer tongue. This lasted a few minutes until Auntie face-grabbed her palm-to-face style and then it was on to something new. At least we know she was listening, right?

Speaking of listening, the mom made sure everyone else in the congregation was getting the most out of this meeting. Two rows ahead, a young man, probably in his late teens had fallen asleep, resting his forehead on his arms that were crossed on the pew in front of him. The mom whispered in little girl's ear and gave her a sharp nudge on the rear end which sent her skipping toward said young man. She quietly crept up to the sleeping giant, and in one swift motion jabbed her finger straight into his armpit. He bolted upright before he even knew what hit him. The mother smiled. Job well done, little girl. Job well done.

And finally we have the grand finale of church mischief. During the closing song, a small boy from another family nearby went teetering down the aisle, minding his own business and aimlessly staring at the people in the surrounding pews. Suddenly, and without warning, one of the little girls shot out of her seat, went careening down the aisle, and plowed into the boy, knocking him off his feet football style. So as the entire congregation sang about speaking kind words to each other, there's a full-body tackling in left-chapel.

So Hawaii, though I didn't get much in the way of spiritual upliftment from church that day, thanks for the entertainment. Who needs a luau when church is free?

Peace and blessings.

Amen.

Sometimes, It's Tough Being Misunderstood

Last night my family was sitting in the living room when my mom suddenly looked around and said "Where's Tyler?" She then frowned and said, "Oh yeah." Tyler is in Spain, and has been for four months now.

My older brother, Kyle then said "Yeah, well don't feel so bad. Dad still calls me Tyler all the time." It's true. "Actually, it's really funny," Kyle said, "Some people call me Tyler who don't even know I have a brother."

"That happens to me too!" I said, "Only they call me Laura without even knowing my mom's name is Laura." My mom then agreed that the same thing happens to her occasionally as well. It's really a strange phenomenon.

Then my dad, clearly feeling left out, slapped his knees and, obviously exasperated, said, "Yeah! And nobody ever calls me Stud, and...I am one!"

Poor, poor Dad.

The Not-So Smart Phone

My lovely roommate Kayla has a cool phone. In fact, it's about 14 times cooler than mine. She has this feature where you can speak into it, and it will type what you say into a text message. So for instance, if you say "Hey, what's up." into the speaker, it will type "Hey, what's up." Cool, huh?

Well, we were playing with it the other day and found that it's surprisingly accurate. That's when Kayla had an idea.

"Hey, I wonder if it speaks Spanish! Here, say something in Spanish."

She held it up to my face, and I said the first thing I could think of in my highly advanced Spanish-speaking abilities, "Hola, me gusta burritos." (Okay, so she caught me a little off guard)

Kayla looked at the phone expectantly and after only a few seconds, doubled over in laughter. Tears sprang from her eyes and she gasped for breath.

"Let me see!" I said, because clearly she was in no state of telling me what it interpreted. She held the phone up and this is what I saw:

"Are at me goose that booty goes."

Nope...it doesn't speak Spanish.