Pac Man Cookies

I still marvel when I find a new photo of Leif, one I've never seen before. I found this one in a box of photos that belongs to my mother. I was going through it and dividing up photos to send to the family members in them. It's such a warm, happy photo. I had forgotten about the time Lannay and Leif made Pac Man cookies together.

Lannay and her husband, Doug, were visiting us in Honolulu, Hawaii. This was around Christmas 1983 or early January 1984. I love it because we all look so happy. That's me in the background, cooking on the stove (the same stove that caught fire one night when it wasn't being used!). Lannay and Leif were rolling out the dough like sugar cookies. . . . and using a Pac Man glass (you can see it by Lannay's elbow) to cut out the circles. They had colored some of the dough pink, and some blue, though that didn't work out so well. The colored cookies are already baked and Leif is all ready to take a bite.

Although I no longer remember, it undoubtedly was his idea, just like it was his idea to bake the giant R2D2 cookies I wrote about (with photos) some time ago. What fun we had in the kitchen when our boys were kids!

It was a special treat to have Lannay and Doug there . . . Lannay was Leif's favorite aunt and they always had a special relationship.

I wish I could go back to those days. Peter and I look at photos and search for some confirmation that we gave Leif a happy childhood, as much as we could, at any rate. Leif was sensate and moody, and prone to frustration, but it's also clear that he had emotional highs and happy times. Every photo that shows them, genuinely, not just a "smile for the camera" smile, is a treasure.

He Loved Greek Food

Last night we were at a little Greek Restaurant where the food was excellent. It made me think fondly of all the times we took Peter A. and Leif to Greek restaurants in Honolulu, Hawaii and Highland Park, Illinois.

It started after Peter A. came back to Hawaii from his AFS exchange to Greece. We would go to the Royal Hawaiian Shopping Center to the It's Greek to Me Restaurant and order two big tasty platters to share. The boys loved the souvlaki and gyros, and the pita bread.

At the Highland Park Restaurant we added saganaki, flaming cheese.

Leif enjoyed good food from many countries, especially the two foreign countries he lived in, Germany and Japan, and also Greece and Thailand.

He had favorite family foods I'd make on birthdays and Christmases, especially tonkatsu, potetekage, and Berliner Kranse.

I wish we could take him out for a good Greek meal again, or make his birthday dinner.

Swimming in a Waterfall Pool - Manoa, Hawaii - Summer 1983

We went to the pool again this evening, our daily swim. It was another lovely, balmy Florida evening, and Peter W. said it reminded him of Hawaii, of the weekend evenings we went to Waikiki with our boys to have dinner at "It's Greek to Me," and then see a movie in the huge theater with the pipe organ, and go to play computer games at the video game store in the Royal Hawaiian Shopping Center.

Those were good times. The years in Hawaii were good ones for our sons. We hoped Florida would be good for Leif.

I knew what Peter meant about, why the air reminded him of those evenings in Honolulu, and the memories were sweet, though tinged with sadness that they will never come again.

It reminded me of this photo, taken the summer we moved to Hawaii and were exploring the island of Oahu. We hiked up Manoa Valley to the waterfall at the end of the line and swam in the chilly pool at its base. Leif was still so young then, only eight years old. We didn't get good pictures that day. Somehow they all were in poor focus, but they were enough to give us images to go with our memories.

Leif enjoyed the hike, along a very wet and muddy trail, and splashing around in the pool. He could swim well, but though he liked going to the beach, he never was an avid swimmer like his dad. Neither of our boys were.

The Persistence of Grief and Mourning; Remembering How to be Happy

I was reading an article about how new experiences create new pathways in the brain. It was focused on positive new experiences, ones that would enhance one's life and help to keep the brain functioning. It talked about learning new things, trying new things.

What it didn't say was what happens to us when new experiences are thrust upon us that are negative, traumatic, or terrible. How do those experiences create new pathways in the brain? They do.

It occurred to me that the intensity of grief and mourning for someone as close and loved as a son, or for others a daughter, spouse, sister or brother, parent, someone deeply loved and part of one's life, must create new pathways of sadness and longing that are indelibly etched upon the brain.

When we are mourning our losses, we go over and over those pathways, over and over the ground, asking questions, trying to over and over to remember every detail and nuance, trying to understand and fathom how death could have taken away someone so loved. Each time we go over those details, think of our loved one, feel our grief, those pathways are strengthened. It can become an obsession.

Each time we think about the death; each time we think about our sorrow, it is reinforced, strengthened to rise again and again.

It's hard to get past grief because the neural connections we formed as the bonds with our loved one are still there, still yearning for that contact, and now, added to them, is a whole new set of sad ones related to their death and all that surrounds death; the funeral, disposing of their belongings, contacting friends and relatives, taking care of their affairs.

How can we get past it, when we are in essence practicing our grief a dozen times a day?

Some people never do get over it. They mourn and are sad the rest of their lives. Some get past it, manage to function, but are brought back to their grief when a reminder catches them. And some are able to move on after a time.

I've given a lot of thought to how they do it. I think first and foremost they have to want to get past their grief and sadness. They must have other good things in their lives and they must have hope. But I think the most important aspect of recovery is a conscious decision to work at it.

How does one do that? When we are depressed or sad, we don't feel like doing any of the things that would help. We don't want to be with people. We don't want to socialize. We don't want to have fun, because nothing sounds like fun. We don't want to exercise. In fact we don't want to do much of anything and we don't care about much, either. No matter what someone outside our grief might say we have that is positive and good (and regardless of whether we know we have much to be grateful for), we see and feel the hurt, the loss, the pain.

We have to also be able to forgive ourselves for wanting to return to a normal life, because there is a guilt about being happy when someone you love is dead.

Although I have come to see that much, what I don't know is how a person gets to that point, a point where he or she is able to do the things that will help them heal, to want to live again, to try to turn away from those strong and demanding mental pathways to something new and happier.

How does one "give up grief" when it has become the "habit" of the brain?

Does time heal? Yes, the acuteness of grief subsides, but what is left in its place? Sometimes lethargy, depression, and sadness. Sometimes they fade and the grieving person emerges into a new life at some point.

I think that partly what happens is determined by that conscious decision, which can only come when the deepest grief has passed, but another part is beyond our control. There are things in the brain we cannot begin to control. If we are saddled with a genetic disposition to depression, the death may well be the "switch" that turns on a lifelong battle with depression. Even when it is not a deep depression, it can sap the joy out of life and dampen down its pleasures.

I think Leif fell into depression when he lost his loves, not through death, but never-the-less through the death of relationships he so badly needed and wanted. To be cut off from love is excruciatingly painful.

For those of us recovering, we also have to somehow remember how to be happy. That sounds foolish to someone who hasn't been in this situation. Why would anyone have to remember how to be happy? But it's true.

I started thinking about that a few days ago while swimming outdoors at sunset. They sky was beautiful, the water warm, the evening balmy. Although I was glad to be swimming, I realized that I wasn't feeling the happiness and joy I used to feel in that very place and situation before Leif died, back in those days when I would look forward to a text message "conversation" with him later in the evening. I decided I needed to try to remember how I felt when I was happy, to remember what happiness was.

At first, I could remember WHEN I had been happy, and I could recount to myself things that had made me happy, but I didn't feel it. It still had the subdued, flat feeling of a mildly depressed person.

But I kept trying. On bicycle rides, instead of just looking down at the street and pedaling along, I made myself remember how I used to enjoy looking at the houses and yards to see what kind of landscaping they had, at the ponds, at the clouds, so often beautiful in Florida, and the birds. I remembered how I loved to listen to the mockingbirds sing. I didn't feel as I once did, but I began remembering that I HAD felt it and recalling what it was like.

In the pool, I remembered how I loved to float on my back and look at the clouds, swim toward the palm trees and marvel at how it was like being on vacation for a short time each day.

At home I remembered how good it felt to accomplish a task, not just what I had to get done each day, but something more, and something creative. So I created two photo books and began to work on getting some other things done that have been waiting for a long time.

This wasn't easy, especially the "getting things done" part. And it's not without backsliding. I don't yet feel as happy and energetic and motivated as I did before Leif died, and I don't know if I ever will. Even if I do, I know there will be days and moments of sadness and longing.

But I do know that I can find happy times again and that I have given myself permission to be happy. I do know that it is partly a choice, but partly a fight with my own brain and feelings.

Leif left a huge hole in my life. That isn't going to change, but I was thinking about another situation with someone I know and how she ought to make the best of her situation, and as so often happens to me, I turned the reasoning on myself. I asked myself, "Am I making the best of my situation?" I had to answer, "No."

So I am trying. It isn't easy and it won't be quick, but as I look back on the past 27 months, I recognize happy moments, however small or fleeting, along the way. I remember the first really happy trip Peter and I took in April 2009, to St. Augustine, and the best one since Leif died, to Germany in May 2010.

The tides of emotion will continue to ebb and flow. The rollercoaster ride isn't over. I know I am not yet a happy person, but I do have happy moments and I am working to have more of them.
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The photo of Leif was taken in our living room in Honolulu, Hawaii in about 1984 when Leif was nine years old.

Leif and His Home-made Matchbox Car Play Board - Sagamihara, Japan - July 1980 - Age 5

These days, kids can buy all kinds of fancy equipment for their little Matchbox and Hot Wheels cars. Some of that was available when Leif was small, too, but it wasn't what he really wanted and most of it was beyond his "budget," so he creatively made his own. This was a sort of city or traffic/street board he made to play on with his little cars. He used a couple of big pieces of poster board and markers to do it, and he had many hours of fun with it. He and his friends in the sort of "court" we lived in enjoyed it together, too. He wanted me to take a picture of him with it, but he wanted to show how big it was so he lay down beside it (in his pajamas) and put a car on it, too.

Leif had a lot of Matchbox and Hot Wheels cars, as well as ships and airplanes, and he loved to play with them. I know his imagination was always thinking up some grand story.

This was typical of my boys. They were very creative kids, always making something or figuring out how to use something in a new way.

This "play board" also reminds me of a project he had when he was in third grade at Red Hill Elementary School in Honolulu. He was invited to be in a class of "gifted underachieving boys," taught by a wonderful young man who knew just how to get them interested and motivated. Rather than loading these smart boys down with more of the same paperwork they hated, he challenged them with projects they could really enjoy.

The first one was to write exact "recipes" (instructions) for how to make an ice cream sundae, so good that someone who didn't know what an ice cream sundae was could make one, even an alien from outer space.

He told the boys that he would bring in the ingredients, as they wrote them, and proceed to make them EXACTLY as they had written the instructions. Leif got quite a laugh out of this procedure, because the first "recipe" began, "Take ice cream," and the teacher said, "Where should I take it?"

Then it said, "Scoop out two scoops,' so the teacher plopped two scoops on the table. The boys were roaring with laughter and said, "Not on the table," but the teacher said, "Well, you didn't tell me where to put them." They said, "In the bowl," and he replied, "What bowl? You didn't say anything about a bowl."

Well, you get the picture. They finally did get the instructions right and they all got to eat their sundaes out of BOWLS, with SPOONS, and the boys had learned something valuable about writing instructions.

This played into the next assignment, which was to invent and design a board game. It had to be a real, playable game, with a real, usable "board," and they had to write out all the game instructions. These third grade boys started out thinking this would be an easy project, and their heads were filled with grandiose schemes. They soon found out it was far harder than they thought it would be. They did get to work in teams. I think Leif worked with his friend Michael, who was a very good artist. Some of the teams never did really finish the project. Leif and Michael did, and their game was some kind of outer space adventure. Unfortunately, they left it at school with the teacher and never brought it home, so I don't have any pictures of it.

Leif loved that class and it was the one time during the school day when he was thoroughly motivated, proving that school CAN motivate boys like him with the right approach, but hardly ever does.

Unfortunately, the program was so successful with these boys that the next year the school hired a "gifted teacher" to institute an official program. That was a disaster for Leif and he did not participate, because the new teacher first of all used only academic/IQ giftedness as the criteria for inclusion. The IQ part Leif surpassed, far beyond the required number, but the school grades part he did not, and he hated just doing more and more homework and paperwork. So, a program that had been wonderful for him in the third grade became a failure for him in fourth.

However, he remained creative at home, drawing, building models, thinking up stories, and so on.

Leif and Weaponry

This photo of Leif was taken in our living room in Hawaii on Thanksgiving Day 1985. We had taken the family photos I already posted. I imagine he was probably watching television when I took this photo, and he is holding a wooden gun he made. I think he made it with his dad. From the time he was very young he was fascinated with guns and all kinds of weaponry. Even as an adult he designed and made wooden guns as prototypes of guns he wanted to see and use in role gaming like Cyberpunk and Zaon. Perhaps he was born in the wrong age. Maybe at some other time he would have been a great military strategist or weapons designer. In our world, especially once his hoped-for military career didn't work out, his passion was mostly out of place and had little use except in the gaming world.

And yet I always called him my "gentle giant." He could so easily have harmed others, either with his own strong arms and legs or with all his swords and guns, yet he didn't. It's fortunate that as an older child he had gained control of his temper or things might have turned out very badly for him and others. I'm thankful he had that self control.

Who knows what kind of dreams he had of being the hero with those weapons, or whether they served to make him feel safer in a world that was not so friendly to him as an adult. They must also have been a part of that large persona he cultivated and presented to the world, the tough and capable weapons expert armed to the max. He talked a tough game and posed looking dangerous but lived a quiet life not harming others and even rescuing animals. A complex man. We will never know all the depths.

Thanksgiving 1985 - Honolulu, Hawaii - Leif at age 10, nearly 11

Today is the second Thanksgiving since Leif died, our second one without him. Last year we went to the DC area and spent Thanksgiving surrounded by Lannay's family, Peter A's family and Rick's family, a large group of warm and loving relatives that made the holiday special and took away the sting of our loss, though it was ever on my mind. I didn't think I could bear to face Thanksgiving here without family last year and I am grateful we had the possibility of so many of us being together. I needed that and they were all so good to us.

We stayed with Rick and Mac, had such a good time with them and their daughters, enjoyed Mac's wonderful Thai food. We celebrated Marcus's eighth birthday there, spent time with Peter A. and Darlene, too, briefly, as they were engrossed in packing to move to India. We enjoyed a terrific Thanksgiving dinner with the whole gang at Lannay's and Doug's house, and I was glad we could take my mother with us to be a part of it.

This year is so different. Rick and Mac are in Germany. Peter and Darlene are in India. That kind of gathering may never be possible again, so I continue to be thankful for it, that it could happen when I needed it most.

Now we will just have three of us for Thanksgiving dinner, Peter W., my mother and me. I always conceived of Thanksgiving as a large family gathering, and for nearly all the years of my life, it was, whether my own birth family sharing our bounty with neighbors, or us having Peter W.'s relatives in Germany come to our house for our feast, or at least the four of us when we lived far away in Japan or Hawaii. Sometimes we went to the army mess hall to be with others. Back in Kansas after Peter W. retired from the army, we all went to my mother's house, where we had from 13-16 people gathered to celebrate. And then, when we moved to Florida, it was the four of us, Peter W., me, mom and Leif.

How I looked forward to Leif's arrival, waiting for his car to drive up the driveway, usually announcing itself with loud music or at least the insistent beat of the bass. I waited for that tall, strong guy to come in the door and give me a big bear hug. That will never happen again, and Thanksgiving will always be saddened by knowing that.

I wish we could have Peter A's family with us, but the expectation of their presence hasn't been there ever, as he hasn't come home for Thanksgiving since he left home and except for last year, we weren't able to travel to be where he was on Thanksgiving, either, sometimes because we needed to be home for Oma (Peter W's mother) and not leave her alone on Thanksgiving, sometimes for Leif, sometimes for my mother, or all three. But except when Leif was in the army, he was always with us on Thanksgiving, always until 2008, so a part of what we came to count on was his presence.

Last year I knew I had a lot to be thankful for but it was hard to feel it. Grief was too new and too acute, only seven months after Leif's death. It was one thing to know I had much to be grateful for; it was another thing to feel grateful when my heart was broken and I was sad and missing Leif, just trying to get through the days without ruining them for others.

This year, I am still sad at times. I still cry for him. I still miss him, but this year I can feel thankful and grateful for my wonderful, loving husband, for my son Peter A., for my grandchildren, for my mother, for my home and my country, for all the experiences I've been blessed to have, the material things I am fortunate enough to own. In so many ways, life is good. I am grateful for my family, my brother and sisters and their families, for my friends, for freedom and freedom from want and hunger. I don't ever want to forget all the good in my life and only concentrate on loss and mourning.

So today I will be thankful, even though I may have some tears in my eyes when the table is set for only three, and I will be thankful for Leif, for my brilliant and handsome son, who taught me much, who I loved, who I had for thirty-three years. I will be grateful for those years, even though they were not enough. I will be grateful for his life, even though it ended too soon.

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This photo of our family was taken in our living room in Honolulu, Hawaii on Thanksgiving Day 1985. Peter A. would be 17 in a month and Leif would be 11 in two months.

Leif - Honolulu, Hawaii - April 1984 - Age 9

These photos were taken after Leif came home from a soccer game in April 1984 when he was nine years old. Unfortunately, I made no notes on the back of them, but he looks really contented, so I think they must have won. Like most kids he loved to win and took losing hard. He's flopped on our living room rug here, looking relaxed and then acting silly.

It's hard for me to realize that I now have a grandson who will soon be nine, and although I never thought that Marcus looked like his Uncle Leif, I do see some resemblance in these two photos.

I wonder, if I could ask Leif now, what he would say the happiest years of his childhood were. I suspect that they were the three years in Hawaii. Those were good years for all of us, although I wore myself out working on my master's degree at the University of Hawaii, determined to finish it before we were moved again.

How I wish I could go back, just for a few days, with my boys and Peter W., have a Sunday breakfast on the lanai, go to Bellows Beach, head down to Waikiki for a movie and video games at one of the game parlors, dinner at It's Greek to Me  . . . those are fond memories. We were so fortunate to be able to do those things together!

Leif's Sixth Home - Honolulu, Hawaii - Summer 1983 to Summer 1986

In the summer of 1983 we moved from Japan to Honolulu, Hawaii, where we lived in the army housing area at Red Hill, on the outside edge of Aliamanu Crater. We lived in one half of a two-story duplex. Our lanai overlooked Pearl Harbor, which was beautiful with the lights of Pearl City and Aiea at night. We spent a lot of happy hours on that lanai.

Leif attended Red Hill Elementary School for third, fourth and fifth grades. He had a black leather Members Only jacket his dad brought him from Korea, and a cloth one, too. He loved wearing them and wore them even in the 90-some degree Hawaiian heat. He played soccer all three years and began judo classes there. His best friends were Joey and Michael. With Joey he usually played GI Joe stuff and he and Michael did creative things. Michael was a talented young artist.

As a family, we loved going to the beaches, especially Bellows Beach. The routine was to go there for the afternoon, swim, walk on the beach, and then go to Bueno Nalo Mexican Restaurant for quesadillas and to Dave's Ice Cream for coconut ice cream. In those days, Bueno Nalo was near Bellows, by the shore. (Later it moved to Waimanalo.) We loved those trips together and always had a good time.

Another favorite family outing was to go to Waikiki, park at Fort DeRussy, by the Hale Koa Hotel, then go to "It's Greek to Me" restaurant and have Greek food, then to a movie at the huge theater where they had a pipe organ playing before the movies started. After that we would go to a video parlor at the Royal Hawaiian Shopping Center and play video games, and end the evening with a walk on Waikiki beach. How I wish we could go back and have one of those magical, balmy evenings together with our two sons!

Sometimes we would go to the International Marketplace, or a Thai restaurant, or somewhere else. We visited several of the other Hawaiian islands; The Big Island of Hawaii, Maui, Kauai.

When Peter A. was 16, the summer of 1984, he was an AFS exchange student to Greece, and while he was away, Leif and I took a trip to the US mainland and made the rounds visiting relatives. He had a terrific memory and for the rest of his life he talked about that trip when he was ten years old and was impressed by the flight attendant on one United flight who had such a sense of humor. One of the jokes Leif loved to tell was this one, "Tonight's movie is 'Gone With the Wind.' Just stick your head out the window and you'll get the picture.'

For some reason, I apparently felt it was interesting enough to actually take a ohoto of our living room and computer room (and extra bedroom we used as a computer room and den upstairs) in these quarters. I wish had done this with all our homes. We were lucky enough to have a personal computer at home. In the early 1980s it was not yet common for families to have them. We all used it. I used it heavily for school work (writing papers) as I was in graduate school at the University of Hawaii at Manoa. I still enjoyed playing computer games (and still do today), and so did the boys.

Peter W. would have been happy to get an extended tour of duty in Hawaii and retire there, and i think the boys would have love that, but it was not to be. However, we will always be grateful for the three wonderful years we spent there together.
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The photo of Leif was taken in Hawaii in 1984 when he was nine years old.

Leif at Waikiki - Honolulu, Hawaii - June 1980

Yesterday we took our granddaughters, Madeleine and Aly, to the beach and took turns in the water with them while the other stayed with all the belongings on the beach. While it was my turn to sit there I was musing on how pleasant it was to be there, how much like it was when we took our two boys to beaches years ago. I remembered how much fun it was, how I was content to be with them, happy just being together. The girls loved the beach, spent most of their time diving for shells, and didn't want to leave. We finally persuaded them to leave the water when the sun went down. I spent most of the time in the water with them, but that time sitting watching them with "Grandpa Peter" brought back so many happy memories and a few tears, thinking that those times will never come again, and a great sense of gratitude that we can experience this with our granddaughters.

This photo of Leif when he was five-and-a-half was taken on the beach at Waikiki, Honolulu, Hawaii, in June 1980 when we were stopping in Hawaii on our way to Japan, the summer we moved from Germany all the way to Hawaii. How small he looks, though he was big for his age.

Leif - Papier Mache - Honolulu, Hawaii - December 1983 - Age nearly 9

I started writing articles for children's magazines when we lived in Hawaii. The first one I wrote was about the Japanese Daruma "dolls," which I submitted to Highlights for Children. Daruma was a Buddhist monk reputed to be so persistent in his meditation that he eventually lost the use of his legs. The "dolls" are actually papier mache, or less commonly porcelain, figures that have no legs or arms. They also have only white circles where their eyes should be. Daruma is a good luck charm, and a person or business can purchase one in any size from about one inch up to nearly six feet tall, make a wish, and give the Daruma-san one eye by painting it in. If Daruma grants the wish, the lucky recipient rewards the Daruma by painting in the other eye.

We saw Darumas all over Japan, and then also in Hawaii. I thought the custom very interesting. In Japan I had visited the Jindai-ji Temple in Tokyo to photograph the giant Daruma and learn more. I thought it would make an interesting article for kids. But I wanted to do more. I wanted to make a craft project out of it and make a papier mache Daruma with instructions. I also wanted it to be a project the kids could do, so I needed kids to do it.

I enlisted the help of Leif and our neighbor boy, Myles and we had a great time making Daruma-sans. This photo is of Leif with his hands all full of the flour and water paste we were using and it was taken in December 1983 when he was a month shy of being nine years old.

If you've never made papier mache, you can't imagine just how much fun a couple of boys can have with the messy, squishy stuff! They had a blast. I took photos of them during the process and submitted some of them with the article. Highlights for Children bought the article and some of my photos of Darumas in Japan, but not the photos of Leif or Myles. I know I gave them some reward for helping me but I no longer remember what it was.

The odd thing about that article was, I sold it to Highlights in early 1985 and they paid me for it and the photos at that time, but they didn't actually publish it until January 2000! Since then, they have resold it to educational publishers and I've gotten more money from that than the the original sale. I think by the time it was published, and Leif was 25 years old, he had forgotten all about the papier mache project.

We always had fun doing crafts projects. I wish I had photos of them. One thing Leif and I built together when we lived in Germany was a "Western town" all constructed of popsicle sticks.

Leif - Honolulu Zoo, Hawaii - June 1, 1985 - Age 10

We only went to the Honolulu Zoo once. While we were there, Leif found this rust colored hen that had made a nest in a tree. He climbed up to take a look. This wasn't real high off the ground but I don't know what kind of tree it was.

The funny thing about that trip to the zoo was the giant land turtles that were putting on an odd mating show. Peter A. and Leif found it hilarious, especially the male grunting.

We took the boys to zoos in so many places, from Manhattan, Kansas to Chicago, from Germany to Japan. We always enjoyed them, but Hawaii had so many other fascinating things to explore, culturally and geographically, that the zoo seemed to be rather "ordinary." There are so many places we went that I don't have good photos of Leif, such as the Polynesian Cultural Center, Bishop Museum, Waikiki, Punchbowl Crater, Waimea Falls Park, the Honolulu Botanical Garden and so much more, plus the attrations on the other islands like Haleakala.

Our three years in Hawaii were great, even though I was perpetually worn out trying to get my master's degree except for the last six months we were there.

Peter A. & Leif - Giant Slide - Honolulu, Hawaii - Circa 1985 - Age 10

I think this photo was taken at the Hawaii State Fair but there's nothing written on the back to tell me for sure. We only went to the State Fair once. Like all kids, my sons loved carnival rides, giant slides, just about anything along those lines. When I was a kid we rarely got to do such things. There weren't any theme parks that I'd heard of except Disneyland and I didn't get there until I was 1973 when Peter A. was four-and-a-half and I was 34. Our mother didn't like to take us to traveling carnivals. They came to town occasionally and we kids would know they were there because they always had a giant searchlight that played through the sky over the town of Manhattan, Kansas. To us, that always appeared mysterious and beckoning, but we never got to go. We never went to the Kansas State Fair, either. Peter A. and Leif had a bit more luck getting to those kinds of attractions.

Leif & Jerri - Honolulu, Hawaii - July 1983 - Age 8

We arrived in Hawaii from Japan in July 1983, exhausted from the overnight flight. We were met by people from Peter W's new office at Camp Smith with traditional plumeria leis. I think I posted an earlier photo of Leif and me with leis that really wasn't from that morning arrival but another occasion. This one was the first morning. It was the beginning of three good years for us, though they were exhausting ones for me as I went back to school to finally complete my master's degree.

Until we got quarters at Red Hill, we stayed at the Hilton Hawaiian Village on the 11th floor and enjoyed the environs of Waikiki. It was fun except for the lack of electricity during the great "Oahu Blackout" on "Black Wednesday," July 13, 1983. As I recall, it was caused by a fire in some sugar cane field. The entire island with without electricity for up to three days.

We found out that life on the eleventh floor wasn't nearly so pleasant without electricity! No elevator. No lights. No water (it has to be pumped up to that height), no flushing toilets (same thing). Since the blackout was island-wide, that also meant that most places couldn't prepare food, cash registers and gas pumps didn't work, and it was hard to even get something to eat. Grocery stores were closed and food that wasn't protected by emergency generators was a loss. People were out in the streets because there wasn't much to do. No TV. No video games. No video game parlors.

It didn't take the entrepreneurs long to capitalize on the situation and begin selling t-shirts saying "I survived the great July 13th Blackout" and other such things.

There was a talking parrot at the hotel that fascinated the boys, and we enjoyed the beach. Soon enough we got our quarters and had to settle in to real life instead of living at a resort.

Leif's 11th Birthday - Honolulu, Hawaii - January 28, 1986 - Age 11

Leif's eleventh birthday we spent at home again, at our townhouse on Eucalyptus Place at the Aliamanu Crater Housing Area. These photos were taken in our dining area. You can see that Leif is maturing quickly and getting even taller. He looks happy, gleeful.

The remote-controlled tank was, I think, his first "real" radio controlled vehicle, which he was delighted with. He was not only always interested in military vehicles, but was fascinated with RC toys. I think this was the beginning of a many-year hobby, which I've already written about. It started with this tank and progressed to the RC vehicles he built himself from kits, modified, and even used for science fair projects.

At this age, Leif was in fifth grade and it was our last school year in Hawaii. It would be a long time before he'd get to wear shorts on his January birthday again.

Happy Birthday, Leif!

Leif's 10th Birthday - Pearl City, Hawaii - January 28, 1985 - Age 10

Until Leif's tenth birthday, all of the celebrations had been at home. This time, we took him and a few of his friends to Chuck E. Cheese's Pizza in Pearl City, Hawaii, which wasn't far from where we lived in Honolulu. The lanai (balcony) of our townhouse overlooked Pearl City and Pearl Harbor, and the lights were beautiful at night. We spent a lot of happy hours on that lanai, and Leif loved it out there.

I'm still amused at the amateur cake decorations. Even at Chuck E. Cheese's we took along our homemade and home decorated cake. Here's Leif blowing out his candles. Whoosh! (No asthma problem expelling air there!) The design on the cake was another one Leif decided on and helped with. Quite colorful, isn't it?

We had a good time at the place, which was a bit loud for my taste, but the boys loved the pizza and games.

Happy birthday, Leif!

Leif's 9th Christmas 1983 - Honolulu, Hawaii - Almost 9 years old

In the summer of 1983 we moved from Sagamihara, Japan, to Honolulu, Hawaii, were we lived in a townhouse on the outer rim of an extinct volcano at Red Hill, overlooking Pearl Harbor and Pearl City. Leif was in third grade and growing fast. You can see he is maturing a lot from the last photos.

He was always bright, but in Hawaii he was pursuing a lot of ideas, drawing, planning, constructing plastic models, and so on. He still loved his E.T. "dolls" and kept them by him while he worked. He was deeply into his GI Joe phase, as well as his continuing fascination with Star Wars and Star Trek.

Although I no longer know for sure what he got for Christmas in 1983, I can say with some certainty that it must have involved some space and or GI Joe vehicles.

It was in Hawaii that he became so focused on GI Joe that he would save up his pocket money and we would go to Long's Drug Store in Pearl City, which had a huge selection of GI Joe figures, so that he could select one. That was always a traumatic event for him, and I may have written about this before. He usually only had enough money for one, but would want 3-5, and it was just about torture for him to make a decision. As soon as he chose one, he knew he'd have to leave the others behind.

I would point out to him that if he really didn't know which one he wanted most, it really didn't matter which one he picked, he would like it. And he could save up to get another one next time. That didn't help. He would stand there nearly paralyzed with indecision until tears welled up in his eyes. I felt bad for him, coming there to get something he wanted to give him fun and pleasure, and have the choice be so momentously hard.

But at Christmas, he didn't have to worry about choices, at least not at that age. Someone else had to do that, and he could just open his gifts and have fun.

In Hawaii, we were still very far away from the rest of our family. My mother did come to visit once a year, and Peter's mother, Ellen (Oma to the kids), made it once, but those visits were rare.

Christmas in Hawaii was a new experience for us because it was hot weather. It made me realize how all our cultural expectations for Christmas (and thus those of our children) were for it to be cold . . . and wishing for snow. Thus it didn't SEEM like Christmas, despite the Christmas carols playing in the department stores and on the radio. It seemed especially silly to be hearing, "Jingle Bells," for instance, and see fake snow in the windows of Pizza Hut! We talked about how in probably half the world, it wasn't cold at Christmas time, and why weren't there songs that went with warm weather??

We took all that in stride, though, and we had fun together, enjoyed our family traditions as always, and could even look forward to heading for the beach.

Leif & Peter W. Carving Pumpkins - October 1983 - Honolulu, Hawaii

Between the last post, from 1977 in Germany, and this one in Honolulu, Hawaii in 1983, we had moved from Germany to Japan (1980-1983) and then to Hawaii. This photo is of Peter W. and Leif carving pumpkins on the floor of our kitchen. Making jack o'lanterns is a messy job, but such a tradition that you have to do it as long as you have children living at home . . . or grandchildren visiting.

I don't know whether Leif got dressed up and went trick-or-treating for Halloween in 1983 or not. He probably did, as he was still three months before his 8th birthday, but I couldn't find any photos. Halloween was definitely not cold there, and kids could wear just about anything for a costume. I'm still surprised that we have so few Halloween photos.

In Honolulu, we lived in the Aliamanu Crater Housing Area, a military housing area that was in the bowl of, and on the outside slope of, the ancient Aliamanu volcanic crater. Our townhouse had a lanai (porch) facing Pearl Harbor on the outer slope of the crater. It had a lovely view, and it was magical at night with the lights of Pearl Harbor, Pearl City, and Aiea.

Carved pumpkins didn't last long in Hawaii or Puerto Rico. It was too warm and if you left them outside as a decoration, they decomposed much more quickly than they did in cooler climates.

Leif (who started using the nickname "Alex" when we moved to Hawaii) went to Red Hill Elementary School, and was in third grade when this photo was taken.

Leif Drawing - Almost 9 Years Old

Here's a photo of Leif drawing in his PJs and using a stylus to add press-on lettering when he was nearly 9 years old in December 1983. How I wish we had more of those early drawings. I tried to always save things from my sons' childhood, and one of these days I'm going to have to haul out the boxes of things from his school days. Maybe I'll find something fascinating I don't remember that I have.

We were living in Honolulu, Hawaii at the time this photo was taken.