IMR: Entries: 2001: October: 24 — Wednesday, October 24, 2001

New World There was an anthrax scare on our block downtown today.   Readings at the Bamboo Ridge Writers' Institute. I arrive in the middle of the bento lunch. Fortunately, our session wasn't this empty. The Liberty House transition continues. Macy's coming soon to this space. A set of Chinese silk pajamas for Katie. Katie's other present is bigger than she is. An anthrax scare on Bethel Street downtown. Emergency workers wait. Tests were negative. A resume on funky paper was received from overseas at Group 70 International, located at 925 Bethel Street. It felt gritty, reportedly, so emergency crews were called, the HazMat team showed up with folks in space suits, and no one was allowed to leave the building while assorted tests were performed. They shut down both Bethel and Merchant Streets, tying one end of the police tape to our building. Crowds gathered on the streets to watch the HazMat folks tromp around and sporadically jump into a disinfecting shower they'd set up right in the middle of the road. The first two of three field tests came up positive for anthrax, and it was mass panic there for a while. The news spread like wildfire, via sidewalk gossip, radio stations, and newspaper websites, and the story even popped up on a couple of cycles of national cable news. Most incredibly, the city actually issued a press release directing people everywhere to stop opening mail. The third and most intensive field test was negative, though, and a Navy lab later conclusively determined there was no threat at all. City officials answered criticism for overreacting, the manufacturer of the $15,000-per-unit testing equipment defended its accuracy, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief... albeit a cautiously shallow breath. Our office — given our widely-touted work in favor of world trade and globalization — had already started 'quarantining' unrecognized, hand-addressed envelopes. Today, though, we didn't want to have anything to do with envelopes. And from now on, we're going to hold most unsolicited mail, and work to verify contents with senders for anything that might possibly be important. I'll admit, part of me feels ridiculous. The part that loves Hawaii, but considers it fairly insignificant in the world scene. The part that takes pride in our mission, but knows our organization is way down the list in terms of international visibility, lost in the "alphabet soup" of APEC, ABAC, PECC, ADB, OECD, WTO... "Who'd attack us?" a chuckling woman in the elevator said today, and even I laughed. But then, the entire nation probably felt just as secure on Sept. 10. So we won't overreact. But we'll definitely be careful. The aftermath of the attacks has — even in this tiny way — now changed the minutae of my day-to-day routine (I pick up and sort the mail — ever since I started as an intern), and that hits much, much closer to home than canceled flights, empty beaches, or the now-bankrupt cruise ship that I can see from our window. Apart from that pesky anthrax business, I've just been getting back into the groove at the office. Most of the rest of the staff is back, after having taken a couple of days to stay and play in China or travel around Asia or just recuperate on a beach. But I'm already deep into a couple of projects, because I left Shanghai the morning after our meeting ended, and I even came into the office on the same Friday I flew out (thanks to that International Date Line). Why did I cut my trip short? To participate in the first Bamboo Ridge Writer's Institute, of course. Peter Li, a former escribitionist who is a programmer by day and runs the Bamboo Ridge website by night, had invited me to be a part of a panel on "Technology and Local Literature" several months ago. Honored despite being wholly unqualified, I accepted, and as a sign of my unhealthy passion for web journals, cancelled a post-conference sightseeing trip to Beijing to get back in time. (I couldn't afford it anyway... nor would Jen have stood for it!) Before I left on my trip, I managed to get out and meet with Peter and our talented copanelist Jhoanna Calma, editor of the 'zine "Prose Ax." We hashed out all sorts of ideas, and I think we created a good balance. Peter was all about the technology. Jhoanna was all about the literature and art. I was in the middle. Also, Peter, with Bamboo Ridge, represented the epitome of local publishing, a highly-selective venue for writers and artists. Jhoanna, with a specialized 'zine, still had standards and enforced editorial control, but represented a less institutionalized alternative outlet. And finally there's me, the personal web publishing and storytelling evangelist, touting the value and appeal of writing without barriers, words of people who often don't think of themselves as artists or writers at all. So finally, the day after I got back from Shanghai, I took Jen to work, took Katie to mom's, then went to UH and wandered into the Campus Center Ballroom in mid-reading. I got to meet many of the people whose names I'd heard often in local lit circles, and I got a tasty little bento for lunch. Peter and Jhoanna were there, and as our time drew near, we snuck off to our little classroom to prepare. Peter was his calm and collected self. Jhoanna had a copy of her 'zine to pass around, as well as a stack of really nifty subscription postcards. I set down a box of handouts I'd duplicated at Kinko's at the last minute, with some URLs and some example writings (like Julie Peterson's "I Think of Sheep"). Maybe eight or nine people came to our session, which was fine with me. It was instantly a discussion, with everyone talking and questioning and debating. There were several teachers, which was great, because a lot of what Peter and Jhoanna and I had talked about — when it came to the dearth of writers who wrote about the local experience — was how central education was to it all. Lots of good thoughts, all around: Writers emulate what they read, and local kids don't read local writers. Local students aren't taught that their experiences are worthy of reflection, and that in fact the educational system is geared specifically toward encouraging kids to "escape" the typical local life. Language is voice, voice is power, and power frightens the establishment (the "Plantation Attitude" debate). There's a Catch-22 between teaching fundamentals of language and composition and retaining non-European culture (the "pidgin as legitimate language" debate). The importance, or new irrelevance, of editors and gatekeepers. Technology does empower students to reach an audience, but they need to feel as if they have a story to tell in the first place. Peter and Jhoanna were great. In fact, when they touched on the cons of self-publishing and non-fiction/autobiography, they were almost too apologetic toward me. In fact, I loved it when there were points of diverge... like when Peter suggested that the best way to teach kids to write was to take away their computers and give them a pen and paper instead. And while we were afraid we'd run out of things to say, it turned out we ran out of time in mid-discussion. Frankly, if there's anything I would do differently, it would be to talk less. (Damn my mouth.) The event seemed to have been a successful one, especially for a first go, and they seemed confident there'd be another one next year. If so, I'll be there... in the audience. Yes, Katie will have a brother or sister soon. Although Jen got the pink lines on drugstore tests a couple of weeks ago, it wasn't confirmed by a medical professional until two days before I left for Shanghai. And it was absolutely, positively, good news. I can't describe the feeling. Euphoric and dizzy, as expected, but also surprisingly mellow. Grounded. I think it's because this will be our second child, but yet also the first one that we firmly decided in advance on having. Katie's arrival was a whilrwind adventure, to say the least. I think we're much better prepared this time around. That's not to say we won't be going out of our minds the minute Jen goes into labor. ("When you finally wake up," I can hear Jen grumbling.) Now, to say we planned to have another child is a little inaccurate. We just decided a little while ago to stop trying to not have another child. If and when it happened, we said, that's when it would be the right time. Well, according to the doctor's best estimates, Jen's about nine weeks along now — meaning Katie's future sibling didn't waste any time signing up for the position. No time at all. A pity, too, 'cause for an all-too-brief period there, I was suddenly the most popular guy in the apartment. Anyway. The very preliminary, likely inaccurate due date is May 28. A Gemini — "communication, intellect and speed." (Katie's an Aquarius — "the rugged individualist, the mad scientist and the lone eccentric.") Now as a rational, skeptical guy, I don't really believe too much in astrology — I just enjoy it. On the other hand, I know that I am a very "typical" Scorpio male, and Jen is a very "typical" Leo female, and when it comes to our specific combination? Yow. So, in about half a year, I'll finally be putting my "squaresville van" (as Dr. Scott puts it) to good use.

Comments i'm actually jealous of your van. i wanted one myself but amy got us a liberty jeep through a discount via her sister. i kind of wanted a station wagon too. oh well. —scott (October 24, 2001 7:01 AM) Again, Congratulations on the soon-to-arrive! :) The more, the merrier! ;) "Local students aren't taught that their experiences are worthy of reflection..." This is SO TRUE. They're sitting in the middle of a world that is beautiful, unique, and MOST worthy of sharing. I understand how difficult it must be for teachers to strike that healthy balance, but with dedication and patience, I believe it can--and SHOULD (and as a PRIORITY)--be done. Love your writing! Ailina —Ailina (October 30, 2001 7:18 PM) E kala mai! Comments have been disabled due to overwhelming abuse by spammers. Please click through to any of the video hosting services linked above to leave a public response, or feel free to send an e-mail. Mahalo! < October 21 · October · October 28 > © 1997-2008 Ryan Kawailani Ozawa · E-Mail: imr@lightfantastic.org · Created: 13 November 1997 · Last Modified: 14 January 2008