Yesterday morning, the woman who wants to die at 80 told us about a Chinese festival in the cemetery, starting at noon. Way in the back, up the hill, against the Koolau. So Lilith and I went back later on and hiked up the big hill. Lion dancers, their bright yellow lion in a heap by their side, lingered on the road; a bearded white man nearly burned himself trying to deal with incense, and had to be shown how to put the fire out after it's started. We walked to the side. Lilith took instantly to a man standing next to us. (I think he was standing next to some beatific stink, because she keep rolling around on her back between cuddles.) Another man approached in a brown cap, asking if I knew what was going on. Not really. The QingMing festival, he said, adding that he used to work here. And that man in an aloha shirt over there designed this area with perfect Feng Shui. A Mr. Lau. The man in a cap explained the elaborate Feng Shui to me, including the view of the ocean that was bounded by land, so wealth wouldn't run out to the open sea. "The next thing is a bit of a stretch," he started saying to each new item. But there was land, air, earth, wood, and ocean, indeed. And lots of young families. The dragon came into being, roaming around eating the dollar bills deposited in his mouth by children, by one woman who stood erect, appropriate for a formal event.
I told the men next to me that Lilith and I walk here nearly every day, adding something about having written a book about our walks. Really?! What's it called? Next thing I know, the man next to me holds up his phone and says, "Lilith Walks: amazon," and quickly shows me a picture of my book. Man in cap starts announcing the book to everyone he sees, mostly cemetery employees. "Well some of it is about getting mad at Uncle Bill and Scott," I say, and they laugh.
Lilith and I leave, carefully stepping around the lit incense on the ground next to the road. I think she'd stung herself a bit earlier.
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