Monday, February 21, 2022

American anger redux

 

Lilith and I turned left off Maile onto Haunani and then, when we got to the private lane to the left where Lilith has found excellent smells and at least one bone, we turned, walked to the end and then up a hill to the right to a large A-frame on a hill in a field where two Buddhas sit, each looking in a different direction. Then we headed back, saying hello to a woman on her phone, Lilith sniffing and I taking some photos of old glass with puddles in it, fragile ferns on a fence. At the corner of Haunani is an odd construction site; it's always looked a tad improvised, but I've never seen anyone there. A very narrow wooden building is going up, with green insulation on the outside. 
 
"Did anyone invite you up there?" demands a white man with brown beard marching toward me, a bit hunched over but in early middle age. "No, we just walk up and back and I take some photos," I said. "Well, it's PRIVATE and you can't go there unless someone invites you! You can't just be all niele and go up there." A bit taken aback, I thanked him for his aloha. Lilith and I walked the few remaining yards to the corner. "See that sign!," he hectored me. "It says PRIVATE." (As indeed it does.)
 
As we turned right onto the main road, I couldn't help myself. Without looking at him, I said quite loudly, "You got a permit for all that?" And Lilith and I walked home



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