A Christmas tale of tradition and transformation........

For a young boy growing up in Michigan, Christmas meant cold and snow and darker days and frozen nights. But mix in the twinkle of lights and decorations and stories of reindeer and Santa and the world was transformed from struggling with the elements and looking forward to warmer times to a magical place of celebrations and, one of the words that is connected to the season---joy.

For me, it also meant singing in the choir. My Mother loved to sing and passed that talent and enjoyment on to me. My high soprano (at the time) meant that I was always part of the tradition of Christmas Carols or Christmas performances---which also meant freezing your butt off while standing around on stadium seats outside involved in some "Pageant" in a gown that did NOT help the "staying warm" situation. I do recall being the soloist on "Silent Night" and feeling like I could barely squeak out the notes before the choir joined in to accompany me.

That all changed when the cold of Michigan was left behind for southern California. And even more so when California was left behind for the "tropics" of the Pacific islands. All thoughts of "traditional Christmas" were forgotten and set aside starting with a flight to Tahiti on Christmas eve to spend 3 months living in "paradise." So when I ended up moving to Maui, it was not THAT big of a deal to have "The Holidays" roll around and the weather did what it did in Hawaii-----basically stay the same as it was all the rest of the year. Now----that is a question I always got..."Doesn't it bother you to not have _____ at Christmas?" I would explain, as shown in the photo here-----

"If you want snow, you can drive up to the snow." (This from Haleakala mountain looking down to where I used to live in southshore Maui) I found there were other different traditions such as the amazing decorations at the local hotels and resorts. They really went all out with huge trees or ginger bread houses and lights---as shown here on the entrance drive up to the Grande Wailea Resort-----

And I found that the Hawaiian musicians, with their beautiful voices and harmonies, could create their own versions of traditional Christmas "carols." I witnessed this one of the first Christmas's I was there, when I saw a concert, Christmas day, on the lawn of the Sheraton Hotel featuring The Hoopii Brothers (with their high falsettos) Teresa Bright (a beautiful jazzy singer) and the Makaha Sons of Niihau with the gargantuan talents of brothers Skippy and Israel Kamakawiwo'ole. The natural joy of all of these performers and the ease of performing live was impressive. Used to playing and singing together while hanging out at weekly beach parties and gatherings, their "togetherness" and playful "messing around" made for "good times!"
   My connection to the Hawaiian music scene was via my bringing CD's of Tahitian performers ----especially Angelo and Bobby Holcomb---to the local radio station on Maui, KPOA. We were connected through mutual friends and I was used the same type of performing "style" in Tahiti and found it to be an equal pleasure to witness it's evolving in Hawaii.
   I say that, because there was a switch happening in music in Hawaii from the "old school" style of Hawaiian tourist "revues" featuring performers like Auntie Genoa Keawe and, of course, Don Ho at traditional venues like the Waikiki "Shell" or the ballrooms of the hotels in Honolulu. The newer music had that "hanging out on the beach" attitude which included a LOT of joking around and "local boy" playful chatter that could then turn into the most beautiful harmonies and vocals. But it was more casual and not as formal.

   But---with that information provided---here is the Christmas tale as promised.....
  Of the new performers, everyone had told me to go see Willie Kahaiali'i---better known as "Willie K." He was a local Maui boy of immense talent AND, as I was soon to find out, an ego to go with it. He could play anything on the guitar---and I do mean anything from a perfect copy of Jimi Hendrix to local "slack key" acoustic. AND he had an equally impressive talent as a vocalist. BUT---his "local boy" image (which slipped over at times to a "bad boy" instead of just "local") and "all about me" attitude rubbed some people wrong---and especially the traditional Hawaiian performers. Willie was not the only one but he was an example, to me, of the differences that were obvious between the old and the new..
   One of the older traditions of Hawaiian Christmas was the yearly show on Christmas Eve in the ballroom at the Waikiki Outrigger with the legendary Don Ho and a long list of traditional performers. This had started in the mid 1960's (I believe he actually had a very successful Christmas LP) and carried on through until Don's passing in April of 2007. Now---think what you might about Don Ho and the image you may have of him, he was THE performer in Hawaii for YEARS and a shining example of that "tourist performer" tradition. When Don Ho died, one of the numerous questions that arose was---What is going to happen with the Christmas show? Don's show had always had a variety of performers backed by the Hawaii Youth Symphony and Choir and it was announced that they would be back, with an equally long list of performers once again, this time to provide a tribute Christmas show in honor of Don Ho.

    (I will add this disclaimer. I did not witness what I am going to describe. I was told the story by a friend from KPOA radio who WAS there and the story line is his.)

    Who ever put together the list of performers must have been aware of the struggle that had been going on within the entertainment community. Some---like the Cazimero Brothers----were able to blend the two styles and always had hula performers involved with their shows, but others were holding on tight to their chosen "path." It must have been a hard choice to decide WHO of the older performers would honor Don Ho and WHO of the newer would represent the younger generation?
     But, as this special evening wore on with performer after performer singing a varied selection of Christmas songs, the question on everyone's mind became WHO was going to fill Don Ho's traditional spot near the end in the singing of a more reverential song? As mentioned, I have sung in a choir and been the soloist singing Christmas "carols." There are the jaunty "Have a Merry, Merry Christmas" and "Rudolph the Reindeer" type songs and then there are the solemn "Silent Night" and "O Come all ye Faithful." Some you can kind of speed along through while others take a more intense determination to sing them precisely and with the respect they deserve. It can be a very difficult and challenging task.

   So---near the end of the evening----and with the lights turned down and candlelight filling the room and reflected on the faces of the Aunties and Uncles and elders sitting in the front row of the packed ballroom, with the choir rustling and clearing their throats in anticipation of the next song, out on to the stage, in a flowing white gown to match the red ones worn by the choir and with his long mane of wild hair pulled back into a tight ponytail came Willie K..........
   And with the very quiet beginning notes-----Willie K------closed his eyes----and sang the most beautiful version of "O Holy Night" that anyone had ever heard............

  I was told that the version was longer than the one here--slower----more 10 minutes than the 6+ presented---but just as presented---with half of it in Hawaiian-----and repeated verses near the end until the whole of the audience sat there with tears streaming down their faces enraptured by the effort and beauty of what they were witnessing...........
  It has become legendary---and the transformation and transfer of the traditions was one of the best Christmas gifts anyone could have hoped for..........

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L1Yb8INtg7c

     Merry Christmas!!

My own, personal "Ewe"........

A recent photo I posted of myself in a tuxedo----AND a news posting of President Obama golfing on the "Caddyshack" golf course, strangely enough, combined to bring back a memory from my life in Hollywood years ago. Let me explain.......

   I was living in an apartment in Beachwood Canyon back in the 70's (which happens to have the Hollywood sign tucked up at the top hill above it) and one day received a phone call from my friend Suze Randall inviting me to a party--and asking for my help. Now Suze was known at that time for her photos for Playboy and Penthouse magazines. She seemed to always have a bevy of beautiful women around her ---either women she had photographed or the next ones she was thinking of shooting. So the idea of joining her on an evenings "outing" was a very attractive one. The "help" part was that she had more girls that she wanted to take with her and not enough car space. She explained that the party was at some estate up in the hills and she wanted to keep all the girls together and make sure they all got there with her---so---could I help? Dumb question.........
  On the "party evening", I drove my Citroen over to her house and, loaded up with 4 stunningly beautiful women, followed Suze up to a house on top of Mulholland Drive overlooking Los Angeles. As we all walked up the drive to the party, I found myself in the enviable position of being with one of the most famous (some would say "infamous") erotic photographers at that time AND a dizzying variety of attractive women! As we entered into the house and were introduced, one of the ladies grabbed my arm, and placing her arm through mine said "Let's get some champagne!" She had ridden up with Suze, so I had not seen her before, but, with a heavy Swedish accent, she said "I'm Anna" (pronouncing it "On ah") and hugged my arm. She had a way of inhaling her breath when she spoke that reminded me of ANOTHER buxom Hollywood blonde but I soon realized that in Anna's case it was more excitement than created "breathiness." She explained that she had just arrived from New York and had been referred by a friend to Suze. She also explained that she did not want anything to do with Suze's "speciality" and was more interested in pursuing an acting career, did I know of anyone? She was refreshingly open and direct about what she was after. Mix that in with that glowing healthy Northern European vibrancy ---and I was totally charmed! (But I also realized that her "attaching" herself to me so immediately allowed her to "check out the crowd" without appearing available----AND sent the message to Suze that she had other interests other than being one of HER little followers.) Suze got the "hint" and at one point came over to say "Get her home safely, " with a wink---and that was that. As it was a typical warm LA summer night AND Anna's first night in that amazing city, we decided to leave the party and allow me to show her some of the sights. Through our long evening of driving from one side of LA to another, we got everything fairly clearly understood about just what she was after and what she intended to get out of her new life. First thing on the list was an apartment of her own. It just so happened that there was one available in my apartment building---in fact right upstairs above me---so I arranged for her to meet the landlord, and a few days later, I had a new upstairs neighbor!!

 (Anna had NO portfolio or anything other than her good looks and determination, so we started out our friendship by my taking this photo of her out behind our apartment building. Too much flash with cinder blocks in the background and nothing fancy about it---but she said "Perfect" and away she went!)
  And so began our friendship. At that time, I had numerous different lady friends who were my "go to" pals for different activities. My best friends Cindy was my concert gal. Every show I got tickets for, she was the one I would call---knowing she would love every one and be the perfect companion. I had different "party" ladies, different "movie" ladies and different dinner dates. Anna let it be known that she wanted to be included if there was any "meet & greet/movie business" gatherings and she LOVED some of L.A.'s famous restaurants. She had been a fitness trainer and was in great shape, so she also was included in any "Sunday Brunch/swim party" get togethers. She was not against a little crazy fun too, as I found out one memorable night (actually early morning) when she talked me in to going "skinny dipping" with her in one of the city fountains in Beverly Hills! Let's just say that her "charms" were probably responsible with us only getting a "warning" when the Police drove by --and then stopped to ask us what the hell we thought we were DOING!!
    She was surprisingly comfortable in coming downstairs at any given time to hang out with me and, as I was using my apartment as my workshop AND meeting place for jewelry customers, she was my model or assistant with customers and helped with many a sale.
   We had gotten very comfortable with our living arrangement and I thought nothing of it when she came by one evening in shorts and a bikini top to ask if I thought it was a good idea for her to try out for the Los Angeles Rams football team new cheerleader team. At that time, the "Oakland Raiders" had abandoned Oakland and moved to LA in direct competition with the LA Rams. Also---the Dallas Cowboys had created quite a sensation with their "Cowgirl" cheerleading squad. The Raiders now had the "Raiderettes" and the Rams were going to do the same. With Anna's good looks, great figure and blonde/blue eyed features AND her natural athletic ability she was perfect---and I told her so!
  About a week later, I was meeting in my living room one afternoon with an engaged couple, deciding on a design for their wedding rings---when,  bursting through the door, came Anna! In the TINIEST dark blue and gold sequined top and shorts and pom-poms with her blond hair flying and ---attributes?---just about breaking loose of the "restrictive" clothing---and she announced (while doing high kicks and jumping all over the room) that she had been selected as one of the first members of the newly named "Embraceable Ewes" (much better than the rumored "Ramettes") The couple sat there with stunned looks on their face while Anna asked for our opinion on her "uniform" and ran out saying she had 2 more to show us and she would be right back!

(Though NOT Anna, this is a similar outfit to one she wore that day---this one actually covers a bit more)



 This couple........watched her go.....and I said some lame "oh ...she does that..." kind of explanation...and I tried to steer them back into the designs we were talking about......at the same time listening to Anna upstairs dancing around in her boots and preparing to reappear in who knows WHAT kind of "2nd choice" outfit. Realizing that our little meeting was over, I quickly said "I'll put together some sketches and ideas for you and we can meet up maybe later this week and finalize the design after I have located some gems to show you", blahblahblah.......doing my best to wrap the whole thing up safely and get them out of there happily. (they both seemed to see the humor in it but DID look a little "stunned")
   Anna went through weeks of rehearsals and training and would do the same routine every once and a while with the latest "uniform" or different colored pompoms or whatever. She literally came running in the door and did a cartwheel in my living room one day!! Her energy and fun spirit was a daily treat BUT---she then announced that she had arranged a part for ME to play in the "opening day" festivities. In the endless attempts by the Rams to create some excitement about their team and assorted efforts, they had decided that the new cheerleaders needed to be escorted one by one onto the field, as they were announced, by gentlemen in tuxedos (like some kind of Busby Berkeley film)---and then "handed off" to allow them to get in a line. Anna----had decided that I was going to be the one who did this for her! SO! I was told to go to a wedding rental shop on Hollywood Blvd. and fitted for a full tuxedo--with tails, gloves and top hat.
  The first time was in a black and white version (no--- sadly, I do not have any photos) I walked Anna out on to the field from the sidelines on the 50 yard line---and stopping in the middle, she reached up and gave me a perfect movie pose "smooch" on the cheek (with her one leg thrown up behind her) and then ran off with pompoms flying to join the other girls in a line. We men had been instructed to continue walking across the field to the other side and to line up there until all the girls were out on the field. They then lined up and bowed to us while we tipped our hats---and that was it.
   The first time went off as planned (and in typical Hollywood overdone style) but they then decided that they needed us to be in matching colors to the girls. SO I was then fitted to a dark blue tuxedo with gold vest and tie version. This was getting a bit weird. These looked a bit "cartoonish." We wore those for the second home game but it had rained and there was a few goof ups on the field as far as when to do this and the announcer flubbed it a bit---and that was it.
   Anna arranged for me to have tickets for a few more of the games ---and the Rams continued to attempt promotional stunts (my brother Dave joined me for one game and we were almost "rammed" ourselves by 3 skydivers that came sailing into the stadium---one of which got off course in his attempted landing and crashed into the seats a few rows down in front of us, breaking both of his legs!!) Anna honored me in her usual fashion at these games by locating me in the crowd and putting on her own over-exuberant bump and grind dance just for me!! She was fearless and I remember just standing there shaking my head with a huge smile on my face......
   Anyway---what does all of this have to do with my opening mention of President Obama playing at the "Caddyshack" course? Well, that is included because after numerous TV show appearances (most notably on "CHIPS") and TV commercials, Anna got a job-----as "The Blonde Bombshell" in a movie being made at the time called "Caddyshack." She'd done exactly what she intended to do and met someone who knew someone who referred her to the casting agent for the movie---and she was the perfect foil for Rodney Dangerfield's character in the movie and allowed him to roll his eyes and mug over her appearance.

  (here in a still from the movie------with Rodney doing his thing!)

She soon moved into another apartment but used to call me for advise or to come to her rescue when her little VW Bug convertible would break down. She continued to be my "event" companion and accompanied me when I was invited to the premier of "The China Syndrome" at the Cinerama Dome years later. She eventually married a movie producer and we used to all get together for dinner ---and laugh about how things turn out sometimes. It IS funny how things turn out sometimes..........

Guardian spirits.....and our connection to them.

I've been designing and creating jewelry for over 45 years. I learned early in the development of my style that I had particular shapes and symbols that repeated themselves in my designs. Where those ideas came from and any meaning behind them was something I, honestly, did not want to know. I enjoy allowing the creative process to flow freely, and felt that any precise knowledge of "where and how" might just create an attempt to define or copy---both of which I did not want to do. So---many of my designs are as much a mystery to me as they are to anyone else. People often ask "Where did this idea come from?" or "What is this a symbol of?"----and my response is always, "I have NO idea."

But------at some point, I DID have customers begin to ask for their own ideas of what they would like. That is exactly how I began creating my "Octopus" pendant. A customer, knowing my interest in and understanding of the Art Nouveau style, asked if I could create a "sealife" Art Nouveau pendant for her. One of the features and most recognizable components of Art Nouveau was the use of the natural flowing lines of hair and vines. That organic "S" curve was an inherent part of my style, so I thought that an Octopus would lend itself to this request. In making the pendant (and subsequently a matching ring for the same client) I had no idea that it would become a major part of my jewelry "image."

With the continued success and demand for this type of jewelry, I was reminded of my own background in "guardian spirits" from my time in Tahiti, or, what is known as "aumakua" in Hawaiian. I was introduced to the "idea" of an animal being the guardian or guide to a person or family by Tahitian friends. They believe that ancestral spirits returned to help and guide them in the form of certain animals. Traditionally, every family had it's own spirit guide. When I initially heard this in Tahiti, I was reminded---and mentioned it to my Tahitian friends---that the American Indians had the same belief. American Indian names like Crazy Horse, Yellow Dog and Gray Bird were not just by chance. They were chosen names connecting that person to their animal "guide." And---in conversations about this, I related to them that all the way back to ancient Egypt, we can find the use of  Cat or Dog Gods or deities like Horus---with the body of a human and the head of a Falcon.
 Here is a wonderful painting by Bobby Holcomb that shows the guardian spirits of Tahiti.

When I lived in Maui and would take my dog Lani (an almost all white Australian Shepherd) for walks, we would repeatedly see the Hawaiian Owl or "Pueo." One time in particular, a large one came flying out of the trees down in a ravine and flew directly at me while watching Lani chase the ball up the street in front of me. It only saw me at the last minute and gave me a long clear "look" before flying off over my shoulder. I called and asked my dear friend and Hawaiian "kupuna" (teacher/elder) Charles Kaupu about this. He answered me in his usual "you must be kidding me" style----"Duh!!" he said, after I told him of my continuous sightings, "NO ONE sees them that much, Thomas! That's your aumakua! It is there to guide you and direct you. 

Pay attention to the signs!

So. When I moved here to Oregon and found that my sister-in-law was volunteering for the Cascades Raptor Center AND had been working with Owls, I remembered what Charles told me, "Pay attention to the signs!" We all have things occur in our lives that we may think happen randomly but many times---at the edge of our thoughts---is the idea that "this is all connected."

Michele and I had discussed my creating an "Owl" pendant for her. At first, I simply could not wrap my ideas around the correct way to "present" the design. After a long time of puzzling over this, I woke up one morning, and looked at the large photo of an Owl that a friend had given me in honor of my departed dog Lani---and there the image was!

When I went to the Cascade Raptor Centers website to read up on what they were doing to help Raptors, I came across the image of "Archimedes" shown below......and knew that he was the one who was supposed to be "connected" to my latest creative "guardian spirit" pendant project.

I have been involved with many charities in the past and have donated thousands of dollars in jewelry sales to worthy causes---but I never really knew where the money was going. And certainly never had a direct connection TO where it went. 

With the creation of this pendant---and the idea to donate a portion of each sale to the sponsorship of Archimedes (and other birds to follow)---I feel I am actually doing some thing direct to help a very worthy cause. The plan is this: Archimedes annual sponsorship is $250. Each sale of this pendant will provide $20 toward that total. I am personally donating $50 to begin. I have already sold the first pendant from my Etsy site---  https://www.etsy.com/shop/SauveJewelry

(and here's a very slight explanation as to the funds-----each item takes about 5 hours of work to create. The cost of metal and gems used amounts to approx.$35-40 my cost. Though I ordinarily charge $50 hr to create a one of a kind item, the more I make of these, the easier and quicker it becomes---so let's say I pay myself $100 to create each one. You can see that the $159 asking cost on Etsy provides a "maybe" profit, after costs and labor, of "about" $20. That means that the $20 donated with each sale is basically profit/labor that I would use to keep my business alive---but in this case---it helps keep Archimedes alive......)

That leaves 9 more to sell before the end of the year to provide the total cost of Archimedes sponsorship. And the idea is----I will then create another NEW design for a different bird and start the whole process again. 

We have all felt some connection to an animal or even the reverse---had an animal seemingly have an attachment to us. It is something with a deep, profound meaning. I have learned to accept it as part of my being and am trying my best, through my talent and ability, to keep that magic alive. 

If you wish to learn further about what the Cascades Raptor Center is doing, go to:  www.eraptors.org

Jackie Lomax----a heart full of soul.

I am not quite sure HOW to address the loss of my dear friend Jackie Lomax. Our friendship was based on an odd combination of mutual friends, similar senses of humor, a love of French cars and, of course music. Always music. 

  He was blessed with one of those great distinctive voices that was both soulful and powerful. I think he felt that my Motown upbringing and ability to match any harmony, allowed us to toss vocal ideas around while  he worked out songs and lyrics. We did  just that over a 6 or 7 year period in the late 1970's of hanging around his apartment in Hollywood. 

He was a great guy to do just that with--hang around. We had matching 1967 Citroen's-----mine a DS21 Pallas and his a DS21 Cabriolet. The difference being simply in the interior. Mine a black leather and his a grey soft felt. Both beautiful vehicles and we enjoyed the special bond that came from our enjoyment of those rare French automobiles (and the ability to compare "repair" notes and share the same repairman!)

He introduced me to the British tradition of the "Pub" afternoon and allowed me to join him and his British "mates" for a game or two of "football" (soccer) at the "pitch" in Coldwater Canyon. Oh yeah---those "mates?" Usually consisted of a broad spectrum of British musician expats such as Paul Carrack of the band "Ace", assorted members of ELO and, of course, "football" fans and talents, Elton John and Rod Stewart. WHY Jack felt I was worthy of being included in these weekly games, I am not so sure. I think I was simply the "needed" member to fill out the team, because I was NOT a good soccer player! BUT---he was kind enough to always give me the "call." Though the games were not memorable, the after "gatherings" at the Cock & Bull Restaurant on Sunset were always worth it. Friends would join us and the bar would be turned into a raucous party. AND, you never knew who would be part of the crowd. One notable afternoon, Ronnie Wood and a few others happened to come in and Ronnie, very sheepishly, announced that he had just signed with the Rolling Stones. This was greeted with general jeering and harassment. "Woodie" joined Jackie, Rod, I and a few others at the table. I sat back and simply watched the exchanges and conversations that were tossed back and forth between these musical "pals." Jackie had those eyes of his twinkling and flashing and loved giving them all a good dose of his particular humor.

And, of course, his background in music allowed him to have that special "view" of just what can happen (or not) in the fame game of the music business.

His "situation" had become legendary. I'll shorten up the story here. One of his childhood mates was George Harrison. Jackie's band "The Undertakers" had a bit of local fame in Liverpool and had played at The Cavern---the Beatles favorite local club. Brian Epstein had decided to sign Jackie to a recording contract but could not make the final arrangements before his untimely death.When The Beatles began Apple Records the decision was made to sign Jackie. George wrote him a song "Sour Milk Sea" and the backup band on that first album consisted or George, Paul McCartney, Ringo, Nicky Hopkins, Eric Clapton and assorted other names of the British music scene at the time. Not bad-----your first album has The Beatles as your backup band PLUS legendary guitar "God" Eric Clapton and THE piano player then and now, Nicky Hopkins. As Derek Taylor said in the liner notes...."his voice is stronger, and the energy folks, the energy is FIERCE!"

I remembered that single when I first met him and marveled at his powerful voice-----and equally noted and marveled at the fact that it had come nowhere near to the fame everyone felt he deserved. When we would sit around and play---he on the matching blond Gibson to George's famous red one (and given to him by George as a gift)-----I was amazed at the ease of his singing and the heartfelt "soul" infused into that distinct voice.

With those kind of friends and that kind of "pedigree"-----how could you lose? Somehow, and due to endless discussed reasons and possibilities, it never came to be. I saw him perform numerous times in assorted attempts to re-start his career and the talent was ALWAYS there. I rehearsed with him in a studio a few times when he was working on new material and his professionalism and the talent that would join him at a moments notice was always a pleasant surprise. WHY it never "happened" for him was a mystery. 

His list of friends was impressive and the obvious respect they had for him spoke volumes. 

Here is an excellent example---One time, he called to ask if I wanted to accompany him to see Paul McCartney with his band Wings at the Forum in Los Angeles. Jack explained that he had box seats and 

that other people would be joining us but we were to go alone and meet them there. OK, good enough. We got down there early and found our (excellent) seats---a "box" of 6. We sat, and Jack, turning to me, said "Tom, I need you to be cool about this..." and he looked over our shoulders--"the others," he added. I assured him that there was no problem (wondering who might be joining us)---Jack sat in front to the far right toward the stage and myself next to him. As the lights dimmed for the first song, a few people came into the box behind us, quickly and quietly---Jack said "Tom, can you let them sit here?" pointing at the front seats----as I realized that our "guests" were Ringo Starr and a lady friend. I got up,  and moved to the row behind the 1st 3 seats. Just as the first song was finishing another few people came, crouching, into the box and, as I moved over to allow them, sat down. As the lights came up a bit at the end of the song, I looked down to the person behind Jackie,  now talking to him with his hand on Jackie's shoulder----and realized it was George Harrison. I quietly said hello to the lady with him, next to me, and Jackie looked over at me with his eyes a bit wide with a nod of "OK?" toward me. I waved it off---assuring him (but lying!!) that it did not phase me one BIT to be sitting with 2 of the Beatles watching a 3rd perform on stage. Again----Jackie's pals from long ago.......

He did his best to handle the endless frustration and continued striving to get the recognition he deserved. I even went so far as to try, through my own contacts in the music business, to get him SOME response to his phone calls and questions about lack of support and promised promotion. It was heartbreaking and, though handled well by him, an obvious embarrassment.

We always had a good laugh (as shown in the above photo---w/Jackie as the clown and myself as some Bigbird variation) and shared a love of art. His album cover, shown here and done by Klaus Voorman---famous for his Beatles "Revolver" cover----was one he was very proud of and we discussed his love of eagles and his connection to and understanding of the American Indian reverence for these powerful birds. I made him a golden eagle pendant that he proudly wore.

I moved away from Hollywood in 1980 or so---exhausted by the toxicity of the whole scene. I sold off my Citroen and remember calling Jackie to reminisce about the good times with our cars. I lived for a while without telephone or TV or any connection to my old "scene" and then moved to Lake Tahoe. Somewhere in there, I lost track of Jackie. I tried to contact him over the past 20 years and it was either lost phone numbers or messages left with each other but no real connection. I recently had done a bit of business in Ojai, CA and heard that he was there. I asked around during a visit and, though people knew of him, no one could direct me to where he lived. I was planning on returning to Ojai next week to meet up with a gallery owner after doing an Art Fair this weekend with the hopes of maybe tracking my old buddy down. Little did I know that he was in England attending a daughters wedding----nor that he had taken sick and passed away yesterday.

A rare talent and a humble, loving friend. Always ready for a laugh and able to simply floor me every time he opened his mouth and sang. Sadly missed and remembered with much thanks and love. R.I.P Jackie

The "Sunday Drive"----South Pacific style........

  When I first traveled to Tahiti in 1975, it pretty much looked like this painting by artist James Coleman. Not exactly but very close. The only "road" went around the edge of the island and was crushed coral. There were a number of dirt paths up into the valleys but you really could not call them "roads." Most houses were corrugated metal roofing or, even better, woven pandanus. Side walls were of bamboo tied together or simple cinder block. There were no glass windows---simply openings in the wall with sometimes a hinged board pulled up that could be dropped to cover the opening in case of severe weather. A very simple, easy life. For this Detroit raised boy who moved to L.A.at the ripe old age of 20, it was as primitive and "disengaged" as I could get.
   When people would ask what it was like, I really would fumble and have a hard time describing life there. You just----lived. Most houses did not have electricity. NO one had hot water.There were only about a dozen cars on the island of Moorea where I visited. You really didn't need one. When you are living on an island that is approximately 35 miles around, you quickly find out that everything is about the same----no matter where you are on the island. Head off down the road for a walk or bike ride and you will have the ocean on the one side and the jagged mountain interior on the other. Coconut trees, mango, banana, passion fruit and assorted other tropical fruit are abundant. There are not big beaches because there are not big waves inside of the lagoon to create them with wave action. You will have open spaces of palm trees and hibiscus flowers and then a small village of huts and houses and a "Chinoise" (grocery store). A church and maybe a fabric store or hardware/fishing supply.....then, repeat. I stayed at a hotel that was very much "self inclusive." Not like now when they want to keep you at a resort with all kinds of extra activities simply to have your MONEY spent there. Then----it was all there really was, so the hotel was "it."
   Life, for me, was---a run in the morning, a bike ride before breakfast, fresh fruit and coffee, a swim or snorkel, some lunch, a nap, a walk, sunset, fresh fish for dinner, fall asleep when you were tired---repeat.

   After a few visits, I noticed things were changing quickly. To accommodate the visit of the French President (Tahiti---"French Polynesia" being a French "protectorate"), they had paved the road from the airport where he landed to the village of Pao Pao---which was the island "capital." It was my habit to rest up with a nap or two on the first day I had arrived and then go for a walk at night to soak up the island "vibe." There were no lights on the road, but then, there were really no cars, so nothing to worry about. I would take off my sandals and walk barefoot. You could sense the edge of the road with your bare feet even if it was pitch black. You couldn't get lost either. Walk for a few miles along the edge and then turn around and come back---done! I would watch for the candle or lantern light off in the jungle showing where a house was hidden. Or maybe come along a few guys sitting out by the side of the road playing guitar.
   On one of my return night walks, a bluish light off in the jungle. I had noticed a few houses running generators for, I had been told, refrigerators but wondered about the "blue light." For a people that lived by the sunlight, I found it REALLY odd for the need of ANY electric light. When I asked, I was told----television had come to Moorea. Only one channel---from New Zealand---which meant in English! BUT, as I found out when I visited a friends "fare" (Tahitian for "house"), here were 3 or 4 Tahitians sitting around staring at the television. Enraptured and watching something they could not even understand.......oh well.....

  SO! One of the things that I completely understood, because, oddly, it was something I had grown up with in Detroit was the "Sunday Drive." After church, dressed up in ALL of their finery and the ladies in gorgeous woven hats, they would pile into the back of a pickup truck---sometimes what looked like 10 or 12 people---and drive around the island! Now-----a 35 mile around island would provide, even at about 20mph and with a stop or two, only about a 2 hr drive---MAX!! BUT---they would drive around and around---all day long! Stop for some fruit or maybe a swim. Say hello to some friends or gather some flowers. Trade fruit for fish or even select treats from a roadside stand. I joined some friends on one of these wanders and, after a few trips around, it had a mesmerizing kind of dreamy effect. Sun and shade and breeze and laughter. I found that I "got" the whole experience and understood the great party mood that set in.
    There was no hesitation what so ever from my girlfriend, Valiane, when I asked if I should rent a car (yes, by that time you could do that---even though they were basically someones "extra" vehicle that "may or may not" last through the day!) one Sunday so that we could participate in the Sunday "promenade." She was, as seen in the photo, a fairly jovial person anyway and would end up playing and laughing every day about ANYTHING but a ride? on a Sunday? Perfect!

 After gathering up a towel or two, off we went! We stopped for some sweet treats. Went for a swim. Valiane stood and stared at some flowers and breathed in the scent and smiled. And I watched her eyes twinkle.....
   On one of the drives around, she pointed out two spearfishermen coming out of the lagoon with, what looked like, a full dripping net "sack" they were dragging in the water. I noted that area and on our next "tour" watched for that location. Sure enough, as we came around a slight curve near where I thought we had seen them, Valiane pointed out a "chalkboard" sign on the side of the road-----"Langouste/salade/vin--22,000"  That translated to "Lobster/Salad/Wine"--(about) $15 US!
   Valiane turned to me wide eyed at the same time I said "Bien Sur!!" (Of Course!!) We had found our dinner "spot." On our next time around, we stopped at my bungalow and showered and changed clothes and headed out HOPING they would be open. When we got back to the same location, we were surprised to see no cars. We parked and walked down a little sand path toward a house that had some picnic type tables set up to one side and tiki torches lit. A BIG Tahitian guy was standing over by 2 barrel grills and greeted us happily. We were informed that, yes, these were what they had caught out of the lagoon that day and that, yes, the meal included (of course!!) baguette bread, fresh green salad w/vinaigrette, our choice of white or red wine, AND split grilled spiny lobster---all you can eat/fixed price!!

    Valiane and I sat down at our own table, sand beneath our feet, under the palm trees, with the moon coming up and tiki torches to light our meal, and we had the most delicious, perfectly cooked and seasoned meal I could have ever hoped for! The lobster were split, as shown, and seasoned with diced chives and butter, then grilled open side down over a manzanita wood fire. Served with a bowl of coconut milk to dip in, they were delicious.
     Valiane had long flowing hair down below her butt. She knew that I liked to see it free but there were times when she would look at me with a "I've gotta do this" look and tie it up into a "Victorian Ladies" bun on her head and "get serious!" This was one of those times!
    We took our time and each had----3? 4? tails and salad and bread with butter and red wine. I kept looking around at the trees or the moon or Valiane laughing while she ate and thought "This could not be more perfect......"

   I have been asked in my travels "What restaurant would you recommend" or " Where did you have the best_____?" and I can offer up "Try this" or "The fish was great here"  BUT-------I have never had a more magical meal than that one on a Sunday night in Moorea some 35 years ago.

Real Magic---an artist and his muse......

The connection between an artist and his "muse" has always been difficult to explain. An almost hypersensitive understanding between what the artist imagines and what the muse represents.
     The inspiration for my creativity for over 20 years has been the lovely lady shown here--Gabriella Delgado. I first saw her, with my dear friend Cindy, working as a waitress in a Sunset Strip bar. Cindy, who has always had a great eye for the unique and beautiful, pointed her out to me. When we asked, she told us that she had done a little bit of modeling and would be interested in "trying a few shots" with my jewelry. That first shoot was a total disaster. She, quite obviously, did NOT know what she was doing but her heart and spirit caught my attention-----we vowed to give it another try at some point. Years went by and we kept in touch. She proceeded from assorted modeling jobs in L.A. and New York to runway shows for YSL, Galliano and Jean-Paul Gaultier in Paris. One dreary early morning while I was in a hotel lobby near LAX, on my way to catch a plane to Milan, she dropped by on her way home from an all night modeling shoot. A cab pulled up and she stepped out in a light grey flannel YSL business suit with a wide brimmed black hat------LITERALLY everyone stopped and watched as she came in the door and ran over to give me a kiss on both cheeks. I had been very pleased but curious when she was determined to meet me so early in the morning but now I knew why-----she was no longer an amateur! We arranged to have her come to Maui for our "second chance" and the difference was amazing. She still had her great sense of humor and was like a playful gazelle----all arms and legs. While I was at the gym one morning, laying on the floor doing stomach "crunches", she returned from her run and came walking into the gym like she owned the place, lay down on the floor next to me and "crunched" along with me. We ended up laughing ourselves to tears. AND, my dog Lani LOVED her. 
   BUT-----when it came time to work, she suddenly switched, right in front of my eyes, from that playful personality I had first witnessed to the exotic beauty she had become. There was SUCH a dramatic difference that the photographer, a seasoned pro who had heard from me about the original difficulties years before, turned to me when there was a break in shooting, and simply opened his eyes wide and signaled a silent "WHEW!!"
   I found that, when creating new designs, I would think of how they would look on her. I long ago realized that my unique style, developed from years of designing with rare gems and pearls and "life in the islands"  was not for everyone. But, because of that understanding, I purposely tried to create a "crossover" blend that would suit a variety of clients. Gabriella helped with that concept. Was she Polynesian? Spanish? Italian? She could look all of those and possibly others---and that kind of "blend" was exactly what I wanted.





















 And, though we had a very close relationship, I always felt the need to keep a certain distance. Why? Simply to NOT risk damaging the unique bond. There was an ethereal quality to it. Something that I almost felt would disappear if touched. Over the years, she WOULD disappear, at times, into her own world---living in Paris---or New York---and then reappear and contact me. She came to Maui to visit a short time ago and we simply could not arrange the shoot we wanted. Amazingly, wanting an outdoor location for a change, it was overcast and stormy for the whole time. Having given up, she dropped by one afternoon and stretched out on the sofa. She dozed off with her head in my lap while I stroked that gorgeous mane of hair and told her stories about my days in Tahiti. As we sat there gazing out at the Pacific, the sun set in a golden glow of misty late afternoon rain. We ended up with no photos and, soon after she had gone, I moved to the mainland.
  Anyway-----I have not seen her for some time. A marriage fell apart for her and she is back to modeling---which means text messages and missed connections and the occasional "I've only got a few minutes" phone "conversations."

  My point to all of this?         I awoke the other night at about 2:30AM---wondering---why am I awake? I lay there and thought of her. Hadn't really for some time, but there she was---and I wondered where she was and how she was doing. I started to drift back to sleep.......AND......she was there lying next to me with her head on my shoulder----laughing that great laugh of hers with her hand on my chest....
  That "almost" feeling of having her here brought me completely awake. I lay there thinking...."I should leave her a message and let her know I was thinking of her" ...and then...."maybe a text"......but finally "No---and bother her at this time? Best to leave it." ......and fell back asleep.

At 8:14AM that same morning, I received THIS text message:

             "I hope you're smiling"  Gabriella

Now........THAT, in it's purest form, is "magic."

St. Mary's and the Roman Emperor......a different islands tale.

About 12 years ago, I was dating a Baroness. How that came about and the lead up to this tale will have to wait for another time. This story is about how our lives lead us down unknown paths and connect us in ways we can never predict...... So, yes, a Baroness. I will, throughout this tale, out of discretion, simply call her that--The Baroness. We had met during Carnivale in Venice and I had pursued her across Europe to her home in London. She never used that title and I only found out about it when her ex-husband introduced himself to me as Baron ________ of Austria...("But you can call me Nicky", he said) She was an English "lady" who had "married in" (as they say) and----oh well----as mentioned, another tale.
     After a month or so of long distance telephone calls and arrangements to meet here and there, I had returned to London, at her request, to see if her "connections" could establish some form of business for me there. She had arranged for me to stay at The London Outpost of the Carnegie Club. THE Carnegie Club is Skibo Castle in Scotland and is "members only." The "London Outpost" is a beautiful "grand" house, converted to hotel, near Sloane Square in London. With 11 rooms and suites it is a very elegant establishment. I soon found out HOW elegant when, after checking in and having my bags brought up to my suite by the Indian bellman, I had a knock on my door and, answering it, was introduced to "Your valet, sir, Jeremy." I assured him I did not need a "valet" and, thanking him, was about to close the door, when he stepped in and lifting one of my suitcases, carried it over to the closet. "Shall I prepare your clothes for this evening, sir?" he asked, noting "it IS part of the service..." I......let it be, and, relenting, said, "Of course." "Shall I fix you a drink, sir?" he asked. I said, "Yes---but---can I NOT be 'Sir?' How about calling me Tom? or if it is more proper, Thomas? "Thomas it is, sir" he said. And we both smiled and left it at that.
       I got used to it. The Baroness and I had numerous appointments in the next few days and it DID become comforting to know that the clothes I was going to wear any given evening were cleaned, pressed and laid out for me when I returned from our business excursions. So, when I informed Jeremy that I was going to be attending a private birthday party at a museum---with cocktails at The Ritz before, he, of course, asked "Formal? or Smart casual?" I had to say, "I'm not sure. I was told it was at St.Mary's, Lambeth. But it IS just a friend of a friends birthday party.....can I be 'stylish'? Is that 'smart casual?'" I had a pair of violet satiny/rayon slacks that I thought would "work", a white "cafe" shirt and a few pair of Prada shoes to choose from. He assured me that I would look "superior" and with a long Italian white scarf and my black leather overcoat,I must admit that I did just that. I went off to catch one of the famous London Cabs to The Ritz.
       I had been told "I'll meet you in the bar," so that was where I went. The Ritz is a GRAND hotel and the lobby was absolutely stunning. I walked up and down the length of it soaking it all in and finally stepped into the Rivoli Bar near the one end of the long entry hall. A flute of Champagne and all was well. About 10 minutes later, in swept The Baroness---with a large black trash bag. She was "steamed!" Apparently those famous London cabs were not too keen on having a lady with fireworks stuffed in a garbage bag in their back seat! She went on and on about having to explain that they WERE just fireworks and nothing more AND (I could only imagine the "turn" of the conversation and how she must have had a word or two for the cabbie. I was just beginning to get an indication of what dating a "Royal" could entail!) But her point was now "HOW are we going to get these to the party?" (holding up the bag in the bar at the Ritz Hotel and shaking it was NOT going to help the situation, I thought, but I had an idea) "I'll be right back," I said, and headed off to the front desk. There, I asked for, and was given (as it WAS raining outside) a large black umbrella. Returning to the bar and "Her Highness" I slightly opened the "brolly" and stuffing the bag down inside, pronounced us ready to go. She looked it up and down (and I held it next to the side of my black leather overcoat---"blending it in") and saying, "Brilliant!", we headed out to the cab station. One of the doorman hailed a cab for us and letting her lead the way in, I stepped in behind and quickly laid the bag down on the floor. Done. She looked at me with a big smile and leaning over gave me a kiss (I could just hear her thinking "This YANK does seem to know a trick or two")
        The birthday party was being held in St.Mary's Cathedral---now converted into a museum. The "main hall" had been taken over and was being used for the birthday party---drinks, dinner and music--for about 200 people. As The Baroness was the hostess, I was seated at a table of 8 with a seat open for her. She didn't sit, other than to introduce me, and then flitted off to make sure everything ran smoothly. That left me to explain that, yes, I was an American, and yes, I lived in Hawaii and ---etc etc. I soon found that I was not only unique in this crowd but a bit of a novelty. So I had a lot of explaining to do about "life in the States" and "tropics" living. (I was amazed to find that many of them had NO idea of where Hawaii was or anything about it!!)There were Artists and Architects and "designers" and ------others that I realized I should probably not ask "and what do YOU do?"---because I got the feeling they didn't "DO" anything....) The food was excellent and the wine superb and all and all it was a very pleasant evening.
       I had been talking with a tall, dark haired gentleman who seemed interested in my explanations about Maui and how I had chosen it after living in Tahiti on and off for years. Someone had asked "Doesn't Marlon Brando own an island down their?" I explained that, yes, he did , and continued on with assorted other "island life" stories. The tall gentleman was about my size and with a very distinct face and with a VERY British accent. (meaning not Cockney---as I was used to with my buddy Jackie Lomax---nor "lilting" ---as I was used to with a friend from Cornwall) This mans accent was very proper. In the middle of one of these conversations about "life in Maui", he suddenly asked, "Did you know Randy California?" I quickly responded, "You mean Randy California from the band 'Spirit'?" He said "YES! You know of them? I'm a HUGE fan. Didn't Randy California die in Maui? He went for a swim and never came back? Did you hear about that?" Now-----I was also a fan of Spirit and knew of this story but it was NOT on Maui (it was Molokai) and he had gotten caught in a "riptide" and drowned saving his son. I also knew that there was an amazing connection between Jimi Hendrix and Randy California and that Randy was actually supposed to be a member of Hendrix's "Blue Flame" band and was also supposed to have joined the Experience but Chas Chandler, the original manager of The Experience had nixed the idea. SO---we talked rock and roll and British music and the connections between Spirit and assorted British bands.
        "Can we all head outside for the fireworks, please?" was announced and then I heard "Let the American do it, let the American do it" and realized that I. as "The American", was designated as the official "fireworks" lighter! HOW this came about and HOW "The American" was, obviously, the BEST PERSON for the job, was beyond me. My new found friend, who introduced himself as, what sounded like, "Karen" (??---I let that go---) said he would help and we all moved out into the "Knot garden" and cemetery out back of the cathedral. The Baroness came up to me and, handing me the bag of fireworks said quietly, "Try to aim them out over the river. The "neighbor" enjoys them and was notified that we would be doing this but I DID want to prevent it getting to be TOO much for him." "Who is 'The Neighbor'?", I asked. "The Archbishop of Canterbury." she said, as she turned away. I stood there with my mouth open, a large bag of fireworks in my hand, in a cemetery in London, with 200 people all waiting for ME to start the celebration and "Please try not to blow up the Archbishop" rolling around in my head!!
        My new found friend and fan of Spirit came over and said, "OK, so how can I help?" I said, "Well---I need some wine bottles and a candle or two from inside." He said, "Right." and headed off to fetch those for me. I backed up so that I could set the bottles on the raised platform of what looked like a monument and when he came back with the required "launch tubes", we fired away! Everyone "oohed" and "ahhed" as we lit up the Thames with rocket after rocket. I had been told that there was an old legend of a ghost that haunted this cemetery if a certain ritual was performed, but I can guarantee that we certainly scared off any ghosts that may have been lurking THAT night. I "may" have aimed a few closer to over the wall of the Archbishops house than was recommended but felt that if he claimed he "enjoyed them" , then it would not be THAT much of a problem if one exploded on HIS grounds. All and all, everyone seemed to have a good time. My friend and I sat down on the steps of the monument we had used as the launch pad as everyone else wandered back inside. He spoke about his love of "that era" of music that Spirit was involved in and how it had influenced his life. I was impressed with his knowledge of, not only, Spirit but other bands from "the 60's."
        As we got up to go back inside, he said, "OH! You DO know whose tomb we have been sitting on? I'd almost forgotten but your talking about living in Tahiti earlier had made me think to mention it....." Stepping back and pointing at it, he said, "May I introduce the famous Captain of the HS Bounty---William Bligh!" So here I was---my head spinning from the whole question and answers of the evening about Hawaii and Tahiti and Spirit and Randy California AND after all of my time in Tahiti AND the connection those islands had to one of the most famous movies made about them "Mutiny on the Bounty" STARRING Marlon Brando----I had been sitting on the tomb of Captain Bligh himself!

       I recalled that time and that story last night while trying to "re-watch" a mini-series on DVD. I had been given "Rome" by a friend---knowing my interest in history and Italy, etc. I had started to watch it years ago and never found the time to sit through a complete "episode." Last night, I didn't make it all the way through either. THAT was because I stopped it when I saw the actor who was playing Julius Caesar-----and recognized my Spirit fan/friend from all those years ago in London. NOT "Karen"-----"Ciaran" Hinds---the wonderful British actor of stage and screen. And that----is just an example of how our own story weaves it's way through our lives and intertwines with others down through history.........

Luana and the temples of the Golden Lizard......

On one of my earlier trip to Tahiti, I was asked by my friend Martin to help out with a "learning" situation, and as such, learned some things myself. Martin was a young British fellow working at my friends hotel---as, basically, the hotel screw-up. He really did not have any hotel training but did have some general knowledge of mechanical things and, in a land where 2 or 3 other languages were spoken, he had one thing really going for him---he spoke "The Queen's" English. THAT put him in a position to work with the Tahitian employees on those assorted mechanical repairs AND act as a teacher and translator at the same time. Like many a British subject, he had learned French in school. That meant that he could speak with the Tahitian workers (also having learned French in school as the primary language---"French" Polynesia being what it was, a French "Protectorate") AND relay information to the owners concerning all things falling apart at the hotel. This did happen. The humidity and heat of the tropics wears out all forms of engines faster, simply, than you want it to. Lawnmowers, clothes washers, generators, out-board motors---everything! And though Martin, as mentioned, had "some" mechanical capabilities, he was in no way a "mechanic." Hence---the "hotel screw-up" part of all of this. Though he could repair, with the advise and help of the Tahitian workers, different engines and motors, they DID seem to break again and again faster AFTER he had laid his hands on them. Anyway, I had met him and become friends because of my being one of the few "popoa" (white men) at the hotel who was NOT pissed off at him most of the time. It was Martin that asked if I could help him out with a situation at home. He was married to a lovely half Hawaiian/half Tahitian girl named Luana. Luana and I had talked and joked when she came to the hotel to deliver lunch to Martin or bring their little girl Gwendolyne to the hotel pool to play. Luana spoke very good English (with that lilting French accent that is so endearing) and could even understand a joke or two. This, I found to be a key ingredient of making conversation in ANY foreign language. All of the "what about this" and "what about that" and greetings and whatever are standard tourist language understanding. But try a little "word play" or teasing or joking---and they look at you with that blank "huh?" look. Knowing I was paying for my room at the hotel at that time, (though at a discounted "friends of the family" rate) Martin asked if I would be willing to stay at his little bungalow in Pao Pao (a little village in Cook's Bay---one of two bay that make up the islands unique letter "E" shape)and help Luana with HER language capabilities, keep her company and help watch Gwendolyne. Luana was a swimmer. LOVED to swim for long lengths of time in the lagoon, but could not do this with little 3 year old Gwendolyne needing to be watched. Also, Martin felt it would help Luana and future employment possibilities for her if she spoke English WITHOUT his distinct Cockney accent. (this was actually a good idea. There were times when I could not understand what he was saying!!) All he could offer was a mat on the floor but we would share meals and I could shower and have a home base. Of course, I agreed. Luana was shy, as Tahitian women can be, but not afraid---simply shy-----and in a very sweet, interested but hesitant kind of way. She was in top shape and I was informed that she had been a competitive swimmer---hence the desire to continue. Gwendolyne was a real treat. Very funny and playful. All she needed were some shells or crabs to chase on the beach while Mom went swimming, and she was thrilled. She took it upon herself to find me endless bits of ocean treasure and bring them to me to inspect. The "house" in Pao Pao was a---unique?---experience. It was basically a cinderblock rectangle with a woven pandanus/thatch roof. One bedroom with a front "family" room (where I slept) and a small kitchen space at one end of that main room. A bathroom and shower and a small side room for Gwendolyne, and that was it. Gas stove and no refrigerator. All food was kept in a wooden, screened, cabinet on the wall. I learned the "Island" way of getting food for each day. A fresh baguette of bread, vegetables from the "chinoise" (as all grocery stores were called, mainly because of their owners-- "The Chinese."), fresh fruit gathered and fish caught or traded for. In those days (1978?) there was no electricity---except from a community (or family compound) generator. These were huge, noisy, smelly things that were usually run for only a few hours in the evening---maybe 5 to 7pm. After that, it was storm lanterns (known as "muri tupapao"---"ghost lights"----lit and burned all night to keep the evil spirits away. This was serious stuff!!) or candles. Also, this little "Fare" or house was back in the jungle of Cook's Bay a bit. Which meant limited breeze----AND plenty of tropical insects. I slept on a mat on the floor and a few times felt something run along my arm or leg. One time, I felt a "scitter" up my arm and reaching for my flashlight, shown it at a baseball sized cane spider just out of my reach---looking at me like "What??" I also had an 8" long centipede run across my leg one night---which had me jumping straight up in the air from a lying position. He slithered into the cluster of my t-shirt---which I wadded up and threw outside and noted to myself to check in the morning to see if he had taken up permanent residence. Island life. The benefits were a roof over my head when it rained. And it DID rain! Tropical pour downs of amazing strength. I also had a place to sit and read and I spent my time talking to Luana---about everything. I had endless questions about island life and she wanted to know about America and music. I would play her songs on my guitar and, looking up, find her sitting there in the lantern light with her eyes closed rocking back and forth. She also loved to have me comb her long black hair. To ALL Polynesian women, HAIR is their power---a sign of beauty and femininity. Luana had long jet black, thick hair, down to her waist. She would come out of the lagoon after swimming with this long curtain of hair flowing out behind her. At night, after Gwendolyne was asleep and, on those ,nights when Martin worked late, she would shower and then come out wrapped in a pareo and sit with her back to me on a chair, and have me comb her hair dry. About half way dry, I would put some coconut oil on my hands and run them through---then comb that slowly down to the ends. She would talk dreamily to me---about her ancestors---and the island spirits----and the marae (or temples) up in the valley, that her Grandfather tended. In the lantern light, with her talking softer and softer---in her slight French accent---and after a while, with her eyes closed----it was magical. It struck me one night that it could have been any time, any century. Most Tahitians did not go by calender or watch. Back then, they got up with the sunrise, ate when they were hungry, got home before dark and slept when they had eaten and the electricity was no longer available. I was lost in time. I could have been one of the infamous crew of the Bounty----mesmerized and beguiled by these women so different and free from what they, as Europeans of that time, were used to. She would finally stop---we would sit there in silence--and she would say, "maururu, Toma, nana" (thank you, good night) and shuffle off to bed while I sat there in the most wonderful glow. After a week or two of staying there and talking with Luana and helping out, I stepped outside one day and there was a dark brown, tall wirey looking Tahitian man with a straw hat on his head. Luana said, "Toma---this is my grandfather. He wonders if you will help him with the temples today? He is the caretaker and I told him you were true." I told her I would be glad to--and off he started walking---heading straight into the jungle thicket behind the houses there. I didn't realize that it was an immediate thing, so quickly put on my running shoes and grabbed my small backpack and ran after him. He didn't say much but smiled at me and pointed out a few fruit trees and showed me where we took a trail to the left or right and made sure I saw the very slight path he was following. We hiked up through the jungle for quite some time, and coming around a large (what looked like) banyan tree, there stood a large raised "marae." These are raised platforms of rounded lava rocks. Usually 4 or 5 rows of these "cannonball" looking stones were stacked perfectly ----sometimes with a raised slight "wall." Stepping through the open entry space onto the raised "bed" of the platform, introduced you to a long open air "hall" or ceremonial stone field. There were long "plynth" type flat stones set end down into the "floor" in different areas in what appeared to be "sitting" arrangements--all facing the front of the platform. There, at the front, was a long table like large stone---usually placed on top of end braces or sometimes on a further raised stack of stones. This was, quite obviously, an altar. Though there were no walls or roof, it was easily imagined that bamboo poles could be stuck down into the rocks and walls erected and a roof placed over that. BUT--the overall effect of the existing marae was of just what it had been---and open air temple. This first one he showed me was huge. I would guess 60ft by 100ft. There was a much smaller one off to the side a short way in the jungle that was much smaller---20 by 30. I had seen these before. In fact, there was one near the road leading up to the lookout between the two bays there on Moorea ---"Belvedere"-----with a magnificent view--but THAT marae was very much cleaned and prepped for the tourists to see with marked paths,etc. It looked very generic. But these Luana's Grandfather was showing me were far more impressive and, for lack of a better word, powerful. You could feel it. And these were not just "meeting" or gathering places---this was heavy stuff. Private ritual "marae." One had a petroglyph barely visible on the back of one of the stones--- a large "Mo'o" lizard. It was then that I remembered something Luana had mentioned in one of our talks----the island of Moorea----was, the island of the "mo'o" (gecko) "rea" (yellow/golden light) Quite literally------the Island of the Golden Lizard..... We cleaned weeds and vines from around the tables and tablets. Brushed off leaves and I helped clean off some large fallen tree limbs. He had gathered some coconuts along the way and a mango or two. He peeled the husk off of the green coconuts and cracked the shells perfectly in two on the rocks. We poured some of the coconut water on the 4 corners of the temples. Arranged a small packet of fruit wrapped in leaves gathered from the nearby trees and placed this in a small flat slot under the altar top in the back and we made our way back down to Pao Pao. I helped him a few times more---and then was told that I should walk with him on the full moon night up to the big temple. With, at first, a flashlight, and then a torch that he pulled from behind a tree half way up, we made our way up to the top. When we got there, he stumped out the torch and motioned for me to sit with our backs against one of the sitting stone plynths. We did this--and waited. It was then that I realized that we were facing Mouaputa---"Shark's Tooth Mountain"---- which has a saddle shaped top from that angle and is known for it's unique feature---there is a natural tunnel or hole through the top, just below the summit. I sat there and watched the full moon come climbing up behind the mountain and realized why we were there on that night at that time------the moon shown through the hole on it's climb up and then become "cradled" in the saddle at the peak! The moonlight beamed down directly on this one temple and where we were sitting...... We sat and waited for the moon to rise above the top of the peak and light our way back.....and then, without a word, he led me back to Pao Pao. I was no longer a "tourist."

........I knew a girl........

Once upon a time long ago, on an island far, far away, I knew a girl. She was the wife of a good friend and famous, in her own way, as the girl just about every visitor to Tahiti saw topless. Now, Tahitians are a playful people and, in their own way, unaware of their reputation for "casual" attire. After all, if you had spent all of your life in a land with endless tropical heat and the daily humidity of the South Pacific, you would probably dress in as light a style as you could, too, AND not understand why visitors were so interested IN your apparel (or "lack of" as it would seem). Most Tahitian women grow up having very limited options for any type of recognition or advancement in their lives. The few that are lucky enough to be good dancers and attractive enough to become the lead dancers in the locale dance troupe, find that they get endless attention and can use it to their best advantage. But, there are the rare few, that not only simply do not care but also find the financial reward of posing topless for the photographers that make a living with these photos used in calendars and postcards. They "get" that there are people out there that will pay them VERY good money just to take photos of them, as they are naturally anyway! I had seen these postcards and realized that a majority of the time, one girl seemed to stand out for her beauty and sheer number of cards with her image. On my 4th or 5th visit to Tahiti, I was surprised to have that same beauty walking toward me at my hotel bar one night. I had met the hotel manager and become quick friends with him but was not aware that the wife he had spoken of was this same famous face. I was introduced to Lena. She not only spoke very good English but, though shy (as Tahitian women can be), she seemed to have a good sense of humor to go along with her natural beauty. Most Tahitians that I had met very simply did not believe a word you said to them. Centuries of people coming to their island and promising to return or simply promising ANYTHING had taught them to distrust everyone. And the women were very aware of the lies told to them for one reason only----the centuries of rumors of their casual sexual promiscuity. I was VERY aware of this and made it a point to NOT show any signs of having that same interest. Was I interested? Of course! But I also wanted to have them as friends so that I could come back and return to people that knew me AS a friend. So, it was a very slow process of establishing a lasting trusting friendship with ANY of them, but especially with a woman like Lena. I repeatedly would ask her to go fishing with me or to show me where the best fruit trees were on the island. She was very hesitant at first but with some reassurance from her husband and repeated excursions that ended up all about having fun and simply wandering, we became fast friends. She could scamper up the tallest tree as quickly as a monkey and toss down to me mango the size of footballs. We would make a whole meal out of them and laugh at each other as the juice poured down all over our faces and necks. She knew the best spots to fish from a canoe or even in her unique style---which was standing on a coral head with mask on to see below water level but with a fishing pole to dangle the bait just in the right spot before the fish she was after. She had a great smile and loved to giggle and joke, but would occasionally roll her eyes in disbelief at things I would say. Some old habits never die. We spent endless days wandering and talking and dozing off in the sun together. On one visit, there was a photographer from California that was staying at the hotel. I had become the VIP liaison for the hotel when I visited in exchange for room and board. All that meant was that I was to meet and greet any important visitor or to, at least, make sure visitors were comfortable and had someone to ask questions to that (hopefully) spoke their same language. I showed this photographer my jewelry brochure (my jewelry was for sale in the hotel boutique) and he admitted that he was becoming frustrated trying to take photos of the local girls. I explained some of what I mentioned above and told him that he would have a tough time convincing any of them to pose for him. Most were not only naturally shy but well aware of the "I'll make you famous" lies told. At some point during his stay, he had seen me talking with Lena and asked if we could arrange a shoot with her. She said that she would do it ONLY if it was with my jewelry AND I was there. AND---no nudity. He agreed and we arranged a time and locale. I went to Lena's house to meet her and walk to the location we had selected. The photographer was to meet us at the beach we had chosen. She stated again that she would not do this topless. She wanted to move beyond her "postcard" days and also thought that there would be no need for any nudity if this was all about my jewelry. She was correct and I assured her that I had spoken with the photographer about it. She gave me one of her "you are SO naïve" looks but we continued on. As we walked, she kept gathering flowers and palm fronds and leaves from the assorted plants along the side of the road. By the time we got there, she had an armful of a wide variety of plant life. The photographer was there to meet us, and while he arranged everything, Lena sat down and, using her toes to hold one end, began to braid all of the flowers and leaves into a gorgeous "couronne" or crown. Now, again, I knew what this photographer did not----Tahitian people are experts at not only knowing what people are REALLY after but "playing" with them, too. Lena seemed to be in to the whole shoot but she never seemed to position herself perfectly for the light or wind or angle. I knew that some good photos were taken but I also was aware that the photographer was getting a bit frustrated. And, sure enough, he finally got to his point---would Lena take off her pareu? I stepped in and angrily told him NO and said that this had already been discussed and he was out of line by asking. He backed off and Lena had a scowl on her face. I told him that we could take a few more and then wrap it up. I was standing just over his shoulder when Lena said "One more" and as the photographer aimed, she said to me (in French) "Pour vous! (For you!" and, looking right into the lens-----gave me the picture seen below. She smiled at me and I realized that, with her long experience of dealing with photographers, she knew EXACTLY what she was doing all along and had waited till the last to give me the one shot I needed. I have it enlarged and framed on my wall and laugh at those sparkling eyes of hers every time I look at it. She is still my friend and knows just how much I love her for her friendship and kindness. As we walked away that day, she took off the couronne of flowers and, laughing, tossed it into the lagoon........