IMR: Entries: 2002: January: 02 — Wednesday, January 02, 2002

Makahiki Hou When midnight came, my eyes were closed, and I just listened as the city was drowned in crackling and explosions.   Fireworks set off in Makiki District Park. High-rise buildings can't stop the celebration. Some aerials above Ala Moana Center. Smoke adds a magical glow to the city. Mount Tantalus (Pu`u Ohia) in a haze. Honolulu's first green light of 2002? New Year's service at the temple. Katie rediscovers black bean cakes. Katie and grandpa out for a walk. Taking a rest and enjoying the breeze. The pair spend quality time together. Meanwhile, I'm snoring the day away. Katie helps Gayle feed the dogs. Gayle plays ball with Toffee and Buddy. Katie gives Buddy a light brushing. A small Katie takes on a big world. I wasn't in bed, as I'd thought I'd be. Instead, restless, I just watched Dick Clark on TV — tape delayed, of course — and got up now and then to pace. I felt like I was rushing too fast toward the end of 2001, like I wasn't quite ready to enter 2002. For the first time in ages, I felt that strange New Year's compulsion to cross over in style. I felt like I wasn't doing it justice, awake alone, slouching on the futon. I ended up propping the front door open and, as the final hour ticked away, I occasionally wandered out of the apartment and surveyed the neighborhood from any vantage point I could find. The smoke wasn't half as thick as in years past (an even more noticable drop in intensity than we saw last year), but it was there, and caught in the ubiquitous sodium-orange streetlights, the view was strange but beautiful. Like a photo of an alien cityscape... perhaps after a cheap sepia-tint Photoshop filter was applied. There were aerials everywhere, some launched from the middle of Makiki District Park on the corner, some seemingly set off in the middle of a cluster of high-rise buildings. People were firing off flares, too — brilliant, blinding violet orbs that would hang in the sky, descending in extra-slow motion, adding to the otherworldly feel. Ten minutes to midnight, I crept back into the bedroom to give Jen and Katie a kiss, and to invite Jen to join me outside. "Mrf," was her reply. So I headed out with my camera instead, and ended up in the stairwell on our building's top floor. Revelers island-wide were already hitting their pyrotechnic climaxes by the time I got there. I looked at my watch and waited for the last second, taking a deep breath, holding it, and let it out the following year. That's when I closed my eyes. The sound was like waves of television static, peaking and receding in different directions at different times. Leaning over the balcony, smelling the smoke, I was on the verge of vertigo. I don't know why, but I stayed outside for at least another hour, just wandering the halls, zoning out on the city lights below. Glad, truly, as I was to see the New Year, I felt even more strongly what I felt the day before — that 2001 was better than most people were now giving it credit for, and I was sad to see it go. I think I finally crawled into bed at around 3 a.m. Katie, as usual, had us up at the crack of dawn. She was considerably more cheerful than I was prepared to deal with. Jen, thankfully, absorbed most of the shock, while I dragged myself to the shower. Eventually we headed out to the 9 a.m. New Year's service at my family's temple in Waipahu, like last year delayed ten hours out of concern for the elderly members (read: vast majority) of the congregation. For the first time in history, I think, Jen and I were the first of the Ozawa clan to arrive. In fact, we were the only ones there when the service began. Soon after, though, Uncle Gordon arrived, and a bit later, dad and grandma came in. I was just glad to see grandma, though, since she wasn't feeling well earlier and had missed the family Christmas party. The new minister is taking some getting used to — and I say that despite the fact that I've probably been up to the temple only three times last year. He speaks fluent English, for one, and he definitely seems... less traditional. The service itself was very pared down — only a few years ago it lasted over two hours — with only two chants and a brief message (not even a sermon) in English. Before the hour was up we were standing in line to get thumped with The Big Book. And after that, it was over. We got the traditional sweet rice wine, the black-bean cake, and paper charms for our doorways. I also picked up half a dozen good-luck "travelers" omamori for mom and myself to hang in our cars. (The last one I owned got towed away with the old Maxima.) I asked dad if he'd eaten breakfast, and he said no. Given our chaotic morning, neither had we. So I asked if he wanted to go somewhere to eat. Dad realized that grandma probably just wanted to go home, though, and I simultaneously realized that I had to stop off at mom's, too. So — a simple question turning into a major logistical puzzle — dad and I conceived a vague plan to hook up a little later. Somehow. Somewhere. Jack's in Aina Haina? McDonald's in Manoa? We drove out to mom's to distribute the good-luck goodies, and rested a bit. Then we headed out to parts unknown. Halfway into town, I called dad. "Just come on over to the house. We'll have sushi." So we did. The next thing we knew, instead of a fast-food lunch and an uncertain afternoon, we were spending a bright, relaxing New Year's Day with dad and Gayle. I suspect we might have crashed their own plans for a simpler and quieter afternoon, but they were gracious as always. We ate sushi, sashimi, and mochi soup, then lounged around, playing with Katie, reading the newspaper, and watching random movies ("Arthur") on cable. At some point, I'm not sure when, I passed out. When I came to, Jen was looking at me funny. Gayle told me dad had taken Katie for a walk along the beach. So I changed into shorts and headed out to find them. But no sooner had my toes touched water did I see them off in the distance, walking hand in hand. So I just sat down and watched them being together, and smiled. Eventually they spotted me, and I waded over to join them, and we took the long way back — crossing through a churchyard to the highway. Katie, being the local girl she is, navigated the gravel, then hot asphalt, then hard sidewalk, barefoot — without giving it a second thought. As we walked in the door, dad asked me if I liked the pictures I'd taken. I said yes. He suggested I look at them right then. Confused, I did. And I discovered why he was so interested — he had taken a picture of me, passed out on the couch. I was about to ask why he didn't take a picture of Jen, too, when I spotted her and her funny look again. I wagged my finger at her. "You knew?" "How would I have stopped him?" she chuckled. Gayle then let Katie help her with the dogs, feeding them, then brushing them. While Toffee is a gentle giant, getting long in years, Buddy is a bundle of random energy, and threatened to bowl Katie over a few times. His tail alone caused her some consternation. But, ultimately, he calmed down enough to let Katie sit on him and brush his fur. Thinking we'd had the perfect day, we hugged dad and Gayle, thanked them, and headed home. Katie called out, perfectly, "Happy New Year!" We made one last stop first, though, as a sort of cherry atop Jen's New Year's sundae — we hit Macy's to buy her a new pair of fancy but comfortable shoes. We even forewent Jen's employee discount. Suffice it to say, I hit the sack early last night.

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