mangos and dirt

When we lived in San Diego, there was this joint down the street that we passed on the way back from just about anywhere we were coming from. A juice bar with a couple plastic chairs, one table and an umbrella out front. Hand-painted, haphazardly, in bright paint upon a plywood sign hung askew above the door were the words, “Senior Mango!” Every time we’d drive by, my husband (in his booming announcer voice), would yell, “Scene!Your! Mang-GOOOOOOOO!”

I was just cutting a mango for breakfast and heard that clear as back-in-the-day in my head.

Waimea Canyon

We’re about 3 weeks away from our Kauai trip. (and for close friends who knew of our predicament…last minute development…Tom CAN go!!!) I’m trying to think of something special to make for all the family to remember my Grandma’s memorial. We’ll be spreading her ashes somewhere in/around Waimea, the town she grew up in. Waimea was a plantation town, harvesting sugar cane on the hot and dry side of the island. It is also at the base of the Waimea Canyon, coined the “Grand Canyon of the Pacific” by Mark Twain. And for those who really appreciate history, it is here that Captain Cook first stepped onto Hawaiian soil back in 1778. The soil here is a brilliant red. A company known for their Red Dirt T-Shirts uses the dirt to dye their shirts this brilliant rusty color. On a trip several years ago I scooped up a bag of this soil and, to my surprise, I found it among my art supplies a couple days ago. Maybe I’ll try doing something with this. Something about this dirt and knowing my Grandma grew up here makes me picture her as a little girl, growing up barefoot on this Hawaiian island with the soles of her feet stained red.