IMR: Entries: 2001: December: 31 — Monday, December 31, 2001

Lang Syne Explosions of sound, light and color are scattered around the city. A bittersweet celebration.   Meeting up with Lacene last week for dinner. Exhausted, Katie passes out at the table. Pretty decent weather for December. Katie basks in the sun at Ala Moana beach. Drawing abstract shapes in the sand. She can't swim yet, but she kicks well. Waiting to pick up mom at the mall. New Year's Eve dinner at Dixie Grill. Jen reflects on the past year. Mom and Katie, out like a light. The ball came down in Times Square came down hours ago, and most of the country has already bid adieu to 2001. Not here. Not yet. The fireworks outside, though noticably quieter than in years past, are still building to their crecendo. Jen and I opted to spend this evening at home, quietly, together. We've got our hurricane popcorn and Pepsi, and "Clue" (rented on video rather than DVD — how quaint) on TV. Jen's happily reciting every line along with the movie. We're pretty tired, though, and I have a feeling we'll be sleeping through midnight. Again. It's a good thing my family's temple moved its New Year's service from its traditional 11 p.m. time to 9 a.m. tomorrow. I don't think we would've made it. Our office got New Year's Eve off, just like we did Christmas Eve. And yet I had to go into the office today, anyway — just like I did last Monday. This morning, while Jen was getting ready for work, she was bummed that I had the day off and not her. No sooner had she expressed this thought, however, did I get an e-mail from my boss asking about something I was finishing up on Friday. Since, as I confirmed in my reply, it wasn't quite done, I said I'd do it today. It was the last day my boss will be my boss, after all. When I got there, he was there too, cleaning out his desk. Even after I got him what he wanted, I hung around a bit longer, just chatting. I know we'll still see lots of him next year — he's going to be an advisor of sorts as we plan our conference in Malaysia — but still... it won't be the same. Life goes on, I know, but he was the embodiment of our office. I have no doubt his replacement will be just as competent, but I also know everything will be different. After a firm handshake and exchanging well-wishes ("Akemashite Omedetoo Gozaimasu," he said, and I replied, "Hau`oli Makahiki Hou!"), we headed our separate ways. I returned home, heated up some leftover garlic roast, and relaxed on the futon and watched a "Crocodile Hunter" marathon on cable. Knowing that mom got out of work at 2 p.m., and since Katie's school was closing at 3 p.m., I e-mailed mom and asked her if she wanted to hang out with us in the afternoon. I had been thinking of taking Katie to the beach today, in fact, and mom agreed it was a great idea. So, glad for the clear blue skies and brisk Kona-wind breeze, I soon headed out to pick up them both. Soon enough, we were walking across the sand at the West end of Ala Moana Beach Park, squinting in the bright sunlight to admire the ocean ... and the landing jetliners passing overhead. While Katie and I frolicked, Mom just relaxed on a towel. Since she was still in her black patterned mu`umu`u from work, though, she looked very Hawaiian but very uncomfortable. Fortunately, the joy of watching Katie enjoying herself so much — running and dancing and singing to herself — made up for it. Since I've also been on a mission to compile Katie footage for a tape to send to Jen's folks, I pulled out the videocamera and chased her around a bit with it, too. Katie certainly gave herself a good workout. For the first time in recent memory, she was the one to declare our time at the beach as finished. She walked up to me, asked to get toweled off, and we headed back to the van and got dressed without incident. She even forgot to demand the traditional after-beach shave ice. We still had a couple of hours to kill, so we headed over to Ala Moana Center. We just wandered aimlessly, Katie most interested in seeing the koi in the ponds along the main mall and identifying all the "Monsters, Inc." toys in the Disney Store. (With most everything discounted 50 percent, it was difficult to resist collecting the whole set of giant plushies.) We walked the entire length of the place, from the far end of Sears to the 4th floor of Macy's to visit Jen. Then, we headed all the way back. Katie, tired but very wired, refused to be carried, instead running ahead of us — and colliding with at least a couple of surprised tourists as a result. Finally, the mall closed, and Jen came out, and we all headed out to dinner. Jen, perhaps feeling a bit homesick, picked the Dixie Grill. Feeling adventurous, Jen and I decided against our usual "Trashcan Buffet" and ordered off the regular menu. I got "yanked" barbeque pork and chicken, mom got ribs, and Jen got a bacon cheeseburger. Katie wanted crab, but settled for some of my pork and two of mom's ribs. Basically a pleasant, simple evening out, eating, listening to '70s music, and trying to figure out which college football teams were battling on the satellite TVs (Michigan and Fresno State). It was no surprise, though, that Katie started falling asleep halfway through her dinner. (I was just telling mom that she'd passed out at the table a few nights ago when we met up with Lacene.) A full day of school (sans nap), followed by an afternoon at the beach, followed by running the length of Ala Moana Center, twice, had taken its toll. She ended up passed out in mom's arms before the dessert menu arrived. We all shared a brownie a la mode, then headed out. Mom, who had never been there before, gave it a passing grade — "Better than I expected," to be exact. I was satisfied, mostly with the brownie. Jen was very full, but very happy — I realized during dinner that the place probably reminded her of the nightclub and bar in Ocala where her mother worked at (as an accountant!) for many years. And Katie was still, and is still, asleep. "Clue" is over, and Jen has turned in as well. Now it's just me and the juvenile pyromaniacs outside. Three hours left. The national and world events of the last three months have understandably tinted the memories of the first two-thirds of the year. Our shared pain of Sept. 11, however, was greatly assuaged by our shared response, and overall, 2001 will hopefully be remembered as the year when we learned to see and appreciate the things that really matter. It has definitely been a year of change. Unforgettable. But I have to say, in the grand scheme of things, to me it was unforgettable in a mostly good way. The calendar was certainly jam packed. Martha and Wayne left the islands for greener pastures. My step-cousin Chad and my co-worker Doris got married, and Doris became a mommy. Katie returned to preschool, and Jen returned to work. The new Star-Bulletin debuted, and Liberty House gave way to Macy's. At work, uncertainty reigns with the departure of the only boss our Honolulu office has ever known. Of course, I graduated from UH — finally. I traveled to Tokyo and Shanghai, and Jen and Katie got to visit Jen's parents in Florida. And on the doorstep of 2002, Jen and I are expecting another child. I can't say I'm not a little glad to see the end of this year. But that's mostly because I have many modest but meaningful hopes for the next.

Comments 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! < December 25 · December · January 02 > © 1997-2008 Ryan Kawailani Ozawa · E-Mail: imr@lightfantastic.org · Created: 13 November 1997 · Last Modified: 14 January 2008