I’ve been caching in my mind a phrase that I had read someplace recently, “He never found out how his story ended.”

I have dug through stacks of newspapers yellowing with age, laying on the floor beside the bed long after Laine has told me a thousand times that recycle is picked up every week.

I’ve mined through the pile of magazines that rise up from the night stand like its own Tower of Babel.

I’ve even Googled a dozen variations of the phrase and even there Larry & Sergey, with their gnostic logarithms and their million servers have failed me.

So, it has become my clause and my story for the telling.

My memory has gotten weaker since those days when I thought that I knew everything and it has taken on a shoplifter’s sense of morality.

This story took place somewhere tribal. For the purposes of this tale I’ll say Mozambique because there are not enough stories that take place in Mozambique. It is still Terra Incognita in my mind and yet the name is almost romantic to whisper.

After over 2,000 years of cosmopolitan mixing of cultures, the Bantu coming across the northern savannah, then the Swahili approaching from the east ( I didn’t know that Swahili is first a people and then a language), and the Arabs and the Persians, this elegant human synthesis has roots deeper than the Moringa tree.

For a while Mozambique was even occupied by the Portuguese who later neglected it like a bastard child while it wooed and explored its lovelier sister, Brazil.

Anyway, in my fractured anecdote, a tribesman is reciting his narrative and, as is his tradition, any story can take on such dimensions that it could easily last through the day and into the night as the others around him weave in their layers of the tale.

As the dark of the evening consumed all light but for the campfire and the stars above, the elder who began the saga fell into a slumber while the others continued on with their side bars and annotations.

When those around the dimming embers were finishing and ready for their sleep one of the gathered remarked that it was a shame that the storyteller would never know how his story ended.

So often that happens to me too, I get so wrapped up and distracted by my mundane doings and I miss the breath of my story.

Too often I forget that whatever I do today should be worthy of a Bard to tell my tale because I have traded a day of my life for the memory.

With the Oscar’s now behind us I couldn’t help but reflect on a fainter star of yesteryear, Carlotta Monti. Carlotta was a B-actress in the early 1930’s, occasionally playing the exotic temptress in lost classics like, “Tarzan The Fearless.” She would have been totally and forever forgotten had she not met W.C. Fields in 1932 and remained his mistress until his death on Christmas Day, 1946.

We all know W.C. Fields. He gave voice to one of my favorite life mottos, “Start every day with a smile, and get it over with.”

And it was his voice that filled those extra dimensions of his character.

He began in the theater as a juggler and a magician. Those skills took him from the hard scrabble streets of Philadelphia to London’s Buckingham Palace where he shared the same bill as Sarah Bernhardt and the next year to Paris and the Folies-Bergere with the young Charlie Chaplin.

He made his first entry into the movies in 1925 and essentially bombed but the silent films were coming to an end and by the early 1930’s his gravelly voice, his clever utterances and his muttered snide comments in the new-fangled talkies made him one of the highest paid performers in Hollywood.

But he isn’t the star of this story, Carlotta Monti is.

Fields, like all men, had his many faults and his 2 quarts of gin a day indulgence probably put the polish on his bitterness towards his waning fame.

Carlotta came to Fields in the dimming of his years. He still had his masterpiece, “Never Give A Sucker An Even Break”, in his future, but mostly weeds and bramble were growing around his talent and reputation.

But Carlotta loved him madly for crazy reasons that some women have. They met when she was of the tender years of 25 and he was already crusty and bent at 52. For 14 years she cared and nurtured him with a love unyielding.  She saw in Fields the man many had forgotten, she could still see the reflection of the man that Fields had drowned in vats of booze.

Maybe it was an illusion but love is a potent drug that can heighten our senses into a magnificent madness or dull our perception when necessary.

In his last years he had moved with her into a private bungalow at a Pasadena sanatorium. He reminisced about his youth in Philadelphia, a rough one it was, but pleasant in his memory with the sharper edges removed. He told her how he hated that it never rained in California and how soothing it was to him as a child, that somehow the patter was like a cocoon that protected him from his harsh father and silenced all unkind thoughts and sounds.

In the last reel of his life he was horribly sick with cirrhosis of the liver, his abdomen filled with rancid fluids and his belly was bloated grotesquely.

In his last scene it was Christmas morning, he was weak, barely able to move his legs or arms. Each breath was getting harder than the previous. Just lying there seemed to be the hardest thing that he had ever done.

Suddenly, and so unexpectedly, it began to rain, thick drops danced upon the brown shingled roof as musically as they had in his youth, perhaps a wee bit more pleasing because of all of the aches the soft rhythm eased.

The splashes and streaks on the window blurred his view as he struggled against his dying nature to keep his eyes open. But, had he been able to see through the storm, he would have seen Carlotta in the yard crying as she directed the spray of the garden hose against his window.

Valentine’s Day is nearly upon us.

The legend of St. Valentine is sketchy at best. Valentine is the name of some 14 guys martyred in ancient Rome for “…acts known only to God.”

Although the guy credited most with being THE St. Valentine was gifted with martyrdom sometime around 270 AD for marrying Christians. Imagine that, at one time it was punishable by death –clubbing, stoning and ultimately beheading- for Christians to be married.

And sometime back in the early 1980’s someone wrote an interesting treatise in the Flambeau about the origin of the heart shaped as it is to symbolize love, but I dare not get into that here – But, if anyone knows who wrote that piece please thank them for me.

With those parcels of folklore put aside now, I decided to look at the significance of the flowers associated with Valentine’s Day, particularly the Iris and the Rose.

I just realized that the iris actually comes in over 200 colors although I’m mostly familiar with the velvet blue and yellow variety. The large number of permutations of colors makes sense considering that they were named after the Greek Goddess, Iris, the messenger of the gods and the personification of the rainbow. The Irises significance is to convey deep sentiments such as hope, courage and admiration It is the Fleur-de-Lis, the symbol for New Orleans.

Many years back Laine came to visit me in Seattle for the first time and I scrounged around and bought up every Iris in the Seattle area and even drove out 20 miles to the tiny town of Issaquah to complete my collection of some 150 Irises that I decorated my apartment with to greet her upon her arrival.

The Rose is much more complicated. Ah, with the Rose color and number all have subtle indicators.

• Red: An expression of love; a symbol of courage and respect
• Pink: Admiration; a new love that has yet to bloom, appreciation, motherly love
• White: Innocence, purity, secrecy, marriage, loyalty, reverence and humility
• Yellow: Joy and deep friendship or platonic love. It could also denote jealousy, infidelity, a dying love and farewell.
• Blue: Mystery, the impossible and the unattainable
• Purple: Love at first sight, enchantment and all things magical

1 Rose – Love at first sight; you are the one
12 Roses – There are a dozen ways I care about you
18 Roses – I am sorry
24 Roses – Can’t stop thinking of you – 24 hours a day
108 Roses – Please Marry Me!

And a half a dozen more meanings between and beyond.

About 7 or 8 years ago, as I was preparing to get Laine something unique and wonderful for our Valentine’s in Hawaii and I ran across the website for Circus World. This museum is located someplace in the middle of no place, central Wisconsin, Baraboo, the origin of the Ringling Bros. Circus.

The museum gift shop was having a Valentine’s Day special that I couldn’t resist. For a truly reasonable price, free shipping included, I was able to get Laine a Dozen Red Noses. Apropos to Ringling Brothers, they had a dozen red clown noses each attached to a long stem green wire and wrapped in gift paper that was red with white hearts with a white bow.

I thought that the card that they enclosed was romantic in a big old goofy world sort of way.

What girl wouldn’t swoon over, “These noses were picked just for you”?

Well, that is what I get for thinking – Never have to get her those again.

So, it is 2012 already.

The other day Laine and I went to see the new Sherlock Holmes movie.  Its only socially redeemable merit was that it was simple, mindless entertainment.  Of course, the premise of any Holmes story is the incredible power of his observation and the rich deductions that he makes out of the tiniest detail, a hair, a gesture, a missing object that he had no reason to know was there in the first place.

And it got me thinking about an organization that I have been sort of following, The Innocence Project.  Their mission statement – “The project is a national litigation and public policy organization dedicated to exonerating wrongfully convicted people through DNA testing and reforming the criminal justice system to prevent future injustice.”

One of their findings is that of the 214 people who have had their convictions overturned, in 75% of those cases eyewitness testimony played a role in the conviction. As anyone involved in the court system can tell you, an eyewitness pointing a finger at a defendant is powerfully damning evidence to the jury.

But, if they are being honest with you, they will also tell you that it is almost totally unreliable, and understandably so considering the stress that the witness is under in the midst of a violent crime.

But, the witness isn’t deliberately lying, they honestly believe that who they are pointing  to is who committed the crime.

Yet they are wrong 75% of the time.

Our observations cannot always be trusted and our memory will often fail us.

In 1885 Dr. Ebbinghaus coined the term Forgetting Curve ( & Learning Curve). By his estimate and by following experiments,  our memories begin to fail us in the first 20 minutes after an event and that up to 90% of what we study is forgotten in 3 to 6 days.

If you go to Youtube and search for “Selective Attention” you will find a dozen or more intriguing  videos testing your powers of observation – If an ape moonwalked across the screen would you see it? I’ll bet that you don’t the first time, but it is there as plain as day.   - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0grANlx7y2E

So, is this blog about wrongful convictions and the death penalty? No.  But let me say here and now that I oppose the death penalty for a complicated confluence of reasons.

No, this is about how often we don’t see what is right in front of us.

The simple things escape our notice a thousand times each day.

It is not just the new blossom on a tree that we miss until it is in full bloom. I often overlook the smiles of strangers passing me in the aisles as I am shopping or good deeds that people do for me unasked. Kind words sometimes get lost in the conversation and sometimes I don’t recognize the courage that it takes to say, “I love you” or for someone to share their sorrows and fears with me.

So, my New Year’s Resolution is to make it my nature to see the beauty in the people whom I love and everybody I meet as a grand coincidence of life.

I will focus on how important they are to me and I won’t be distracted by the mundane and transitory aspects of their fiber.

I want to thank you for reading this because, although I may not know you, you are important to me.

And, I love you Laine.

Damn, this is going to be a good year.

Best Wishes & Peace

Elaine & Bill Grace
850/ 766-7175
aloha@balihi.us
www.balihi.us

The other day I posted a sign on Facebook that read, “It is not that I am not a people person, it is that I am not a Stupid People Person.”

Some people clicked “Like”, some wrote to endorse the statement and some who know me even wrote to confirm that it was an appropriate self-descriptor. 

I’ll admit to you that sometimes I have a tolerance problem with certain species of people and barnyard smells and that I have a foible of speaking my mind once I open my mouth, a flaw for sometimes being too strident and a weakness for Laine’s smiles.

And all too often I push aside the maxim that I pretend guides me, “The most precious things that I possess are the words that I had never spoken.”

Coincidently enough, in today’s paper, the New York Times, there is a piece about the decline of Southern Charm and Civility.  Yankees moving to Atlanta are telling the teachers not to force their kids to say depreciating things like, “Yes, Sir” or, “No Ma’am” or even, “Please” and “Thank You” because it demeans the kids and stunts the growth of their self-actualization like some social non-filter cigarette.

I then began thinking about the person I consider the Matriarch of Southern Graces, nope, not Scarlett O’Hara, but Miss Lillian, the mother of Jimmy Carter.

Here was a scotch drinking, poker playing, baseball loving fanatic who missed more than one Sunday Service at the Plains Baptist Church though not many. She earned her degree in nursing in Atlanta and soon after married and moved to Plains to be the nurse practitioner for the whole community, Whites and Black as equals, during the dark Southern days of the 1930s, ’40s, ’50s & ‘60s. At the tender age of 68 she went to the squalors of India with the Peace Corp to work with lepers.

One of the quotes that I ran across exposes her ability for soft, sassy riposte. On President Carter’s Inauguration Day he asks her, “Well, Momma, are you proud of your son today?” To which she replied, “Which one?”

But the one that I have liked for many the years shows the polish of Southern Charm while unleashing sarcasm, a mirror of the definition of Irish Charm being  “the ability to tell you to go to Hell in such a lovely fashion that you ask for directions.”

Just after Jimmy was elected President a reporter from The Washington Post with a big town attitude went down to Plains to interview Miss Lillian. At one point the reporter asked if Jimmy could be trusted to always tell the truth once he took office. Lillian replied that Jimmy was occasionally known to tell “little white lies.” Sensing that she was getting an angle to her story the reporter asked what did Lillian mean by a little white lie. Without pausing Miss Lillian replied, “Well, you remember when you first arrived at my house and I said that you looked good and that it was a pleasure to meet you?”

I should practice harder to speak with some of that southern honey and vinegar instead of falling back on my usual combination with vinegar.

When I was a stockbroker a speaker at one of our training seminars told us that to be successful in life and in business you had to see the world through the others person’s eyes, you have to emphasize with that other person, truly understand that they have their own fears and troubles, you have to genuinely feel what is in their hearts even if you have to fake it.

Or simply look and learn from my 4 dogs, Wag More – Bark Less.

Best Wishes & Peace,

Elaine & Bill Grace
BALI HI Trading Company

This is an October story so it works into the monthly epistle as a trivial factoid but it is also a story that I have kept with me for many years and just recently was able to discover the whole story.  Bless you Google.

If you scratch deep into your memories of 1968, past the rows of nightmare images from Vietnam, across the tragic iconic photos of men pointing to the sky while at their feet lay Martin Luther King dead on the balcony of the Lorraine Hotel and 63 days later burns in the image of Bobby Kennedy sprawled on the floor of the Ambassador Hotel. Dig deeper in your memory and, now that you think about it, you can see the image of Tommie Smith and John Carlos as they stand on the winners podiums at the Olympics in Mexico City, Tommie’s right arm outstretched proudly in a black gloved fist and John’s right arm the mirror image.

On that day, October 17^th, 1968, their actions were awash in deep and subtle imagery that would have made Fellini or Thomas Pynchon admirers of their brave and noble stand. They stood shoeless, wearing black socks to represent black poverty.  To represent black pride Tommie Smith wore a black scarf around his neck. John Carlos, to express solidarity with all blue collar workers in the U.S., wore a necklace of beads which he described “were for those individuals that were lynched, or killed and that no-one said a prayer for, that were hung and tarred. It was for those thrown off the side of the boats in the middle passage.”

For this bold Human Rights salute they were thrown off of the American Olympic team, banished from the Olympic Village and would have been stripped of their medals except for the Cold War contest where the number of medals that the US won over the Soviet Union showed some type of superiority when honor was missing.

They had won their medals for running the 200 meter race in just above and just below 20 seconds. Both were students at San Jose State University and, in 2005 they were honored with the erection of a 22 foot high statute of that Mexico day image. They both went on to short-lived careers in the NFL and both have won numerous awards for sportsmanship including the Arthur Ashe Courage Award.

Their cartoonized photo was even a news item on an episode of  The Simpsons where Kent Brockman looked back on the 1960s.

Despite their triumphs, for the past couple of decades these two men haven’t spoken kindly of each other

But this isn’t what I came here to talk about.

3 days later something else extraordinary happened that most people don’t know about because it is a story of a loser. And this story still gives me chicken skin of admiration 30 years after I first heard it.

In the late afternoon of October 20^th, 1968, 75 men began the long 26.2 mile Olympic Marathon.  The race was won in 2:20:26. The next 55 runners jogged on into the stadium for about the next 45 minutes. The bleachers began to empty as darkness and chill filled the high altitude Mexican air. Many thousands had gone on to other things, accepting that the 18 missing runners had quit somewhere along the many miles.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, over an hour after the race was won, several police (policia) cars entered the stadium with their sirens blaring and their red lights flashing and in their headlights cast the figure and shadow of John Akhwari . Bleeding from a fall about half way into the race, John came in bandaged and limping from a dislocated knee. On the video you can hear the astonished spectators slowly, stunned and uncertain, applauding. Listen to the din grow into a roaring crescendo. Long after the race was over, far past the nearly quarter of the runners who had given up and in an agonizing pain that I am certain that I could not endure; John Akhwari circled the track and crossed the finish line.

John Akhwari was from the very young country of Tanzania, created just 4 years before by combining the countries of Tanganyika and Zanzibar.

When asked why he persevered where many could have honorably quit and nursed our wounds he replied, “My country did not send me 5,000 miles to start the race; they sent me 5,000 miles to finish the race.”

That is Honor.

That is Integrity.

There are no statutes of him that I know of just a simple athletic training facility named after him in Tanzania.

At the 2008 Olympics in Beijing he was welcomed as a Goodwill Ambassador recognizing him among the many winners without medals.

And every time I pick myself up from some whiny, skinned knee episode in my life I think of him.

And now I even know his name.

John Stephen Akhwari.

Click Here for the Youtube video

On May 31^st, 1889, high uphill above the booming city of Johnstown, Pennsylvania, sat the private, gated resort of the millionaire steel and coal magnates. The South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club was the playground of Andrew Carnegie, Andrew Mellon, Henry Frick and their ilk. As is sometimes the want of the rich and famous, pretty and practical took precedence over safe and prudent.  The 400 acre lake that made up this retreat was held bound by what at that time was the world’s largest earthen dam. Over a few years it was weakened to pave a road across it and the overflow pipes were removed for resale as scrap metal by one of its members.

Several days before a great storm was born in the Midwestern States and upon arriving in Pennsylvania it dumped over 10 inches of rain in 24 hours.

Flash forward to today, almost all of the damage and death caused by Hurricane Irene is the byproduct of the rain and subsequent flooding.

Water seems so nice, so benign when you are taking a bath, soap in hand, or walking in some afternoon sun shower to be with someone you love but on this day in 1989, when the levee broke it became a 60 foot high, 20 ton wall of mud, rocks and fallen trees, railroad cars, dead bodies and livestock coming at them at 40 mph down the  Little Conemaugh River to Johnstown. When the 5 billion gallon wash reached the far outskirts of town almost 10% of the population was gone; whole families mercilessly erased, parents left childless, children made orphans.

On a bright note, when one resident’s wife, child and housekeeper were swept from their roof the family black Newfoundland dog jumped in and rescued them.

This event essentially gave birth to the American Red Cross, this was the first major disaster it responded to.

The state of Pennsylvania knew that the immediate recovery and restoration would be expensive to the cash strapped state but it was a burden that would have to be shouldered by all not just the unfortunate victims so they implemented a tax increase across the state.

Money and assistance poured in from across the nation and as far away as Russia, Turkey and Australia.

Even Seattle pledged thousands of dollars for relief.

And 6 days later, almost to the hour, careless playing with fire brought Seattle down.

It began in the waterfront district where all of the buildings were made of wood because of the abundance of forest land surrounding the region. Here the first steam sawmill in the Pacific Northwest was built and owned by Henry Yesler, one of the original settlers – except for the Snoqualmie, Tulalip, Swinomish, Lummi, Skagit, Makah and Duwamish Indians.

Besides cheap lumber the saw mill also made a plethoric amount of highly flammable sawdust that further fueled and exacerbated the spread of the fire.

As a fun fact, and I do enjoy my factoids, from this era in Seattle the term “Skid Road” was added to American culture. Skid Road was used to describe the hill that the loggers would use to direct the felled trees to the mill. The skids were the logs that ran perpendicular like corduroy to guide the trees and prevent erosion. Skid Road also divided the rich socialites from the working class hoipollio and rowdy waterfront ruffians.

Ask me later and I will tell you the origins of “Above Board.”

Although there was only one death the damages were almost as catastrophic as those in Johnstown and when the community leaders looked around at their city of ashes they recognized that in times of need we are all in the “Brotherhood of Man” and the “Children of God” and that you help when the help is needed not just when it is convenient so they unanimously agreed to send their pledged money to Johnstown rather than use it for their own tragedy.

I mention Henry Frick above in this tale. In his lifetime he was regarded as, “The Most Hated Man In America” because of his ruthlessness and lack of morality and as recently as 2009 he was voted the “Worst CEO of All Time.”

After back-to-back earthquake and  hurricane in the Northeast, when I read that Rep. Eric Cantor from Virginia hesitates to give disaster relief until he can off-set spending in the budget I shake my head in wonder and tilt it slightly and ready my right hand to raise it and nominate him to dethrone Frick.

But, maybe it’s just me.

Maybe it is that I never read the Sermon on the Mount close enough.

As you may know by now, BALI HI will leave Railroad Square after Christmas so we want to thank you for all of your well wishes and Cheer. Come to either the Railroad Square shop or the store in Midtown (1123 Thomasville Rd) and enter the raffle to win a holiday gift basket valued at over $75, including a $15 gift certificate.  There is a gift basket at both locations so double your chances by doing all of your Holiday shopping at BALI HI.

Our hours at Railroad Square this Christmas week will be Tuesday – Thursday 11am-6pm and Christmas Eve 11am-3pm. Come on by, everything in the Railroad Square shop will be 15% off with Big-Big discounts on the larger furniture items that I hate moving.

On Friday, December 24th we will have coffee, wine and Hawaiian beer to help you do your last minute shopping.

We would love to see you to say good bye and to warmly invite you to Midtown.

Our Midtown location will be open Monday – Thursday 11am-6pm and on Friday, Christmas Eve, 11am – 3pm. We will reopen on Tuesday, January 4th.

Happy Holidays, Best Wishes & Peace

Elaine & Bill Grace

Elaine and I always try to make our monthly blog interesting and amusing but this month we will fail by half; interesting this will be, but sad too.

After 4 spectacular years in Railroad Square BALI HI is leaving the Square at the end of December. We have only one more 1st Friday at the Art Park of the South.

And that is sad.

Sad, like when you were 6 years old and  you had spent your weeks allowance on an ice-cream cone at Howard Johnson’s and on your first lick the scoop falls to the hot sidewalk. Of course you pick it up and plop it back on top of the cone like nothing happened: But you know.

We hate leaving the Square and all of the amazing people that make up that eclectic spot that we like to think of as “The Greenwich Of The South”, “The Gateway To Your Imagination”,  “The Center Of The Universe”.

There are a thousand Blues songs that tell stories about why “You Gotta Move” but not a one that adequately expresses how sad and painful that decision and realization truly is. It is sadder than quitting your job at the Chatterbox Café and moving from Lake Wobegon.

And PLEASE join us on this 1st Friday, December 3rd from 6pm- 10pm for our Customer Appreciation & Goodbye to the Square Party!

**HINT** Stay tuned for announcements of some December Sales and Specials for your shopping pleasure.

We will still be in Midtown at 1123 Thomasville Rd and that too is a pretty fun crowd. I ask you, how can you go wrong with cupcakes and massages upstairs? We are open in Midtown Tuesday – Saturday  11am-6pm for all of your gift and home décor needs.

Thank you, Our Friends, for your loyalty and love.

Best Wishes & Peace.

Elaine & Bill Grace
BALI HI Trading Company
aloha@balihi.us
www.balihi.us

You cannot imagine my shock when so many years back I discovered that not only did Walt Disney deliberately lie to us but he did in a very cruel and unusual way.

And he got an Academy Award  for crying out loud!

You know about that Lemming myth, right? You know, the one where all of those cute little rodents scurry off and commit mass suicide by jumping off of a cliff in Norway, falling to their death into the Arctic Ocean? That was a packaged creation by Disney for a 1958 movie called White Wilderness.

The truth crushed my youthful spirit unlike anything since the truth of Santa Claus was revealed.  In 1982 the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation discovered and documented that the whole shebang was actually filmed at the Bow River in Calgary.

Now here is the fun part, not only were the lemmings that were flown in for the movie of a species that did not migrate, the ultimate disservice to the little buggers was that they didn’t even leap off the cliff into the river but, much to their surprise, they were flung off of a spinning turntable into a watery death.

Damn you Uncle Walt.

Obviously he is not the kind of person I would want at my Thanksgiving table.

“Who might be invited?” you ask.

Well, it would be you, of course, and all of our friends of BALI HI.

For almost 4 years now Elaine and I have reveled in the good fortune of our growing community of friends.

Blessed is a word that I feel comes closest to our sense of happiness at know you all.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and to all you love.

And if it weren’t for our 4 unruly dogs we would make room for you at our table, but just so you know, Elaine and I will raise a glass of wine or two saluting you and wishing you well for all of your days.

Spanning the globe to bring you a constant variety of entertainment for your Railroad Square visits I have happened upon a tuba quartet made up of some FSU School of Music students.

As I was reckoning this was a unique sensory delight for your eyes, ears and funny bone I happened to reflect on an old friend from my Seattle days, Tuba Ed. At that time I used to manage a video arcade disguised as a pub and college student dive.

In the early middle of a weekend evening Tuba Ed would come in from a long afternoon of performing. Really on any day of the year that there was a sports event you could find Tuba Ed at work, his stage was  a simple spot on the sidewalk leading up to the Kingdome for Mariner Baseball or Seahawk Football or across town by the Space Needle at the Key Arena for Sonics Basketball or Thunderbird Hockey. You would hear his deep, thick notes long before you would see him and often he was hidden in a circle of friends and fans that he had cultivated and accumulated over his 2 decades of performing for tips.

Sometimes, at the end of his “shift”, he would gather up his horn and his busker’s hat full of dollars and change and for reasons I never could fathom, he would take a bus cross town to my humble suds hole. When he would arrive we would clear a space at the end of the bar for him to sort his paper money and his quarters and dimes and whatever. He would make small piles for each denomination and when he had made his tally I would convert it into a more manageable stack of &1, $5’s and $ $10’s.

At around 6 feet tall and 350 pounds, wearing thick, black Buddy Holly glasses, it is kind to say that Tuba Ed was a teddy bear of a man in heart and stature.  And he was genuinely polite. His greeting was always, “Good Evening, Bill” or “Good Evening, Steve”, never a clipped “Hi” or “Hello”. His voice was as cavernous and bassy as the instrument that he played and his speech pattern was slow, halting and deliberate as though he wanted to sure and careful to use only the shiniest words to construct a nice sentence.

Some people wondered aloud if he might be “simple” or, as the band Los Lobos sang in a song, “ Little John of God”. In the obituary that I read that wasn’t worth mentioning. What they did say was that in his younger days he the principal tubist for the Bellevue Philharmonic and played for the local symphony before he decided to bring his music to the streets.

One story that I read about Tuba Ed was that outside one of the arena’s someone asked him if he had ever attended a game in the stadium. When he said that he had never been inside friends bought him a ticket and throughout the game hot dogs, peanuts and drinks were bought for him by friends, fans and strangers throughout the house.

One night in October, 2008, Tuba Ed was walking the last couple 100 yards to his home when he was assaulted by 5 teenagers who beat and kicked. At first everything seemed OK, under the circumstances. He spent a few days in the hospital and was released only to die alone in his apartment of an apparent brain hemorrhage.

He was just 53 years old. Dead, now there’s a 4 letter word for you.

He would have laughed his bottomless chuckle if he only knew what a tragic impact his death had on a large portion of Seattleites. There is even talk of putting up a statue of him with his tuba outside of the new stadium.

He loved to laugh. It is honest to say that I heard him laugh more often than speak.

In the Los Lobos song the liner notes tell the story that “Little John of God” is what the nuns used to refer to abandoned, disadvantaged babies.

Ed McMichaels was neither. In the end Tuba Ed had tens of thousands of friends and we all envied his rich love for everyone – His heart was truly the size of Texas.

I will quote a line from the song because, well, it seems right.

“He Came To Us From Up Above
  To Touch Our Hearts With A Special Love
  With A Special Love, Little John Of God”

When I first moved to Seattle after spending a considerably amount of time and money at FSU I began working at what at that time was the 2^nd largest microbrewery on the West Coast, Red Hook Brewery. At that time Sierra Nevada Beer was still categorized as a micro so we were in an impressive and limited crowd.

One of the characters working there was a spunky chap nicknamed Bhagwan. He had a mystic’s twinkle in his eyes and the trimmed beard and attributes of Rasputin. He was the Red Hook brewing team leader by day and the sole sales rep by night.  Now a-days you can get Red Hook in all 50 states, Florida to Hawaii. I’ve even hoisted a cold Red Hook on the island of Guam.

After Bush’s war in Iraq started, Red Hook wanted to do their patriotic duty so Al The Brewmaster called me to see if I could help them out. At that time I was working for a U.S. Navy education program in Hawaii. I titled myself “The Dean of the Pearl Harbor Campus” and Al’s intentions went straight to a salty sailor’s heart.

He told me that irregularly the brewery would get large shipments of out of date returns from the distributers. Ordinarily they would just crush the bottles and recycle the glass but because the beer was really still good for almost 2 months after the expiration date Red Hook wanted to donate it to our men and women in uniform. This beer was shrink-wrapped with 66 cases to a pallet and, at first, Al’s only requirement was that the recipients made their own arrangements to get the beer. That was until one of the brewery shareholders called him to say that they had seen a 2 ½ ton Navy vehicle driving down I-5 North loaded to the brim with Red Hook cases of beer. At that point Al suggested everyone use tarps.

Red Hook gave several hundred cases for the christening of two submarines, the USS Virginia and the USS Hawaii. Every Army and Navy base within 100 miles of Seattle received a couple pallets and one navy aircrew flew a training mission from Virginia to Connecticut and back to test the load balance of 330 cases of Red Hook.

I mention Red Hood and Bhagwan because 25 years ago this month Bhagwan’s namesake, Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh’s ashram cult in The Dalles, OR, imploded. Let’s call him BSR for short, and he really was kind of short in stature anyway. BSR was a charlatan swami of the first order. Born in India, he relocated to Oregon in 1981. BSR occasionally  preached sexual abstinence although he was referred to by the press as the “sex guru.” He advocated poverty, and to insure that he kept his loyal followers in poverty he accepted their donations until he had 99 Rolls-Royces that he ostentatiously paraded on the compound grounds all the while the devotees, sannyasins, had their matching orange robes.

He warned of “outsiders”, the residents of The Dalles, OR, who were a threat to the ashram’s way of true life. The cult spent incredible sums of money to influence elections; they brought in people from surrounding states to intimidate local politicians. BSR was a proponent of unregulated, unrestricted big business, forced birth control and avoiding paying taxes. The cult took over news programming so that they could control the direction and tenor of the information disseminated to the viewers and they were pretty much on their way to controlling The Dalles community until the cult attempted a couple assassinations and the contaminating of some food stuff with salmonella and blaming it on the non-believers to strengthen their control by fear of “outsiders”.

When Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh died in 1991 one of the last things on his tombstone reads, “ Only visiting this planet”.

Is it just me or does it appear that there are quite a few of those fellow visitors still around here these days?

OK, so we are not moving from Midtown after all. Last month when I told you that we were packing our bags and turning off the lights at 1123 a lot of you guys took it pretty hard. We are flattered and honored to have such a loyal and supportive band of friends.

But believe you me, it is not the end of the world – Maybe if Douglas Adams got you a really good seat at Milliway’s you could see the end of the universe – but that is another story.

Elaine and I are elated about our decision too. I guess that even life decisions are like a multiple choice question test, if you are not sure of the answer just go with your gut feeling and you’ll probably do alright.

As I write this missive there are elections being held in Kenya, a place that the New York Times calls one of the most corrupt places on this planet other that the office of the Governor of Illinois. What they are attempting to do you would think would be rather simple and basic; they are voting on the creation of a constitution and a Bill of Rights, a weakening of the dictatorial powers of the president and expansion of local authority. Opponents   of these civil liberties are blocking traffic in the major cities and dragging people out of their cars and beating them to death if they suspect that the victim supports the constitution and human rights. People are literally dying to vote over there.

Recently both Elaine and I voted by mail and had to suffer the 50 foot walk to the mailbox.

Everybody has an opinion on how our community, or nation should be run or how some issue should be resolved but 75% to 80% of those eligible don’t vote and many aren’t even registered. A candidate endorsed by the Democrat has voted only once before and that was nearly 10 years ago.

Register. Get knowledgeable. Vote. Period

That said. Elaine and I believe that exciting things are about to happen in the Midtown sector and we want to be party to it all. So, instead of telling tales out of school let me wisen you up on what BALI HI is scheming.

Of course we will be open in Railroad Square for First Friday. And I have a cold Hawaiian beer  for just saying the magic word – Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis. As usual, we will be closed in Midtown that night.

And Elaine says that we need a vacation, even if it is a staycation. We have been on a BALI HI binge for nearly the full 365 days and if we keep having this much fun we won’t fully appreciate Heaven when we get there so we are taking a few days off next week.

BALI HI in Railroad Square will be closed from Sunday, August 8^th until Tuesday, August 17^th.

The Midtown BALI HI will be open our regular hours, Tuesday – Friday 11am – 6pm and Saturday 11am until 5pm.

This First Friday, August 6^th, the Midtown location will be closed, as usual and the Railroad Square BALI HI will have a split day.  Railroad Square will be open from 11am until 3pm and then close for a short break and reopen at 5pm and be available for your shopping pleasure until 10pm.

And certainly the teak furniture sale continues through August so give into your impulse buying urge.

Best Wishes & Peace.

Elaine & Bill Grace
BALI HI Trading Company
aloha@balihi.us
www.balihi.us
850/ 766-7175

Every 4^th of July that I share with Laine is better than this poor city boy truly deserves, so, of course, it stands to reason that the best 4^th of July weekend that I’ve ever experienced was spent with my sweet Laine and we spread it butter thin between Nashville & Memphis, Tennessee.  

You are asking yourself, why did Bill & Elaine stretch themselves like a licorice stick across Interstate-40? Well, let me take this moment to tell you. A few months prior to all of this I was in an airport bar sharing drinks and swapping stories with a U.S. Marshall. In all of this she let it slip that the best fireworks show that she had ever attended was a picnic style celebration along the Cumberland River in Nashville. And, buddy-boy, let me tell you, she sure was right about that. Even before noon the good folks of the community start setting down blankets on the fresh mowed grass of the Riverfront Park. Apparently only tourists and wussies wait until sundown to start drinking for this occasion. With big name musical acts performing all afternoon and 100,000 of my dearest friends elbowing me and laughing with me I discovered that this was a 4^th of July of a much higher order than I was used to.

But what about Memphis? Let me tell you straight up, while there were a million oohs and ahhs at the fireworks display that Friday night, the Sunday morning services at the Full Gospel Tabernacle in Memphis was truly a religious experience with the whole proceeding led by the Rev. Al Green. Yes, the same Al Green whose 1970’s Soul Music helped define the rhythm in the heartbeat of half a generation of teenagers in puppy love.

If you should ever get the chance to have a holiday weekend like that grab it with both hands. If you are only able to choose one take in Memphis and the Full Gospel immersion – it is bigger than Elvis and will fit you perfectly.

Elaine and I would like to wish you and your families a wonderful and safe 4^th of July.

And, if you find a quiet moment in your day and in your heart hear yourself say to the many who have served in our military, to the many who are currently in our military and to the too many who have died, “Thank You for the Service.”

On Google I noticed that one of the unusual dedicated days in July is called, “Cheer Up The Lonely Day”. The idea was originated by a gent in Detroit, Francis Pesek, to remember the infirmed and shut-ins every July 11^th. How wide spread it is beyond his family and friends I couldn’t tell you, but now you know and you can decide what to do with your newly acquired knowledge.

But if this day has a theme song it is probably called, “Hello In There”, by John Prine. Here is the chorus:

“Ya’ know that old trees just grow stronger
And old rivers grow wilder ev’ry day
Old people just grow lonesome
Waiting for someone to say, “Hello in there. Hello.”

And when you have your own lonely moment, as we all surely have and will, hopefully you will remember that Elaine and I say Hello.

Please join Elaine and I for 1st Friday at Railroad Square.  We are pleased to feature Cindy Sbrissa of Mystic Mosaics who has once again worked her magic to create some amazing and functional mosaic art including an almost 2 ft. long tree frog to guard your garden, a Buddha for luck, frames and a box for magic or moonlight! We still have some great art by Patty Maney and some new jewelry artists with very affordable hand crafted pieces to make your summer sparkle.  In Midtown we are featuring “Gifts from the Sea” beautifully crafted ocean gems by Anne Peery. Wear her pearls, shells and gems on Anne’s unique sterling ear wires to honor our injured sister sea. Other new artists are Leak Clark who has some lovely eyeglasses holders so you can keep up with those sunners and eclectic gems by Gretchen Greenwood! 

 Once again we are open on 1st Friday at Railroad Square until 9:30 PM but will be closed there on Friday 7/3 from 3-5 PM.  Regular hours there are Tuesday-Sat. 11-6 PM and 12-5 PM on Sunday even on the 4th!  The Midtown store is open Tuesday- Friday 11-6, Sat. 11-5 PM. We will be open early at 9AM on Sat. 7/17 to help Lucy and Leo’s celebrate their 1st anniversary with a benefit for the Animal Shelter Foundation. Call for more information, 766-7175, http://www.balihi.us/.

 There are also some changes afoot at Bali-HI so look for future posts with more information and a HUGE sale!

 Best Wishes & Peace,

Elaine & Bill Grace

BALI HI Trading Company
565 Industrial Dr. – In Railroad Square
1123 Thomasville Rd – In Midtown
850/ 766-7175
aloha@balihi.uswww.balihi.us

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Laine has already mentioned that this newsletter is a tad wordy but this is sort of a Father’s Day/Memorial Day reflection so I beg your charity and I hope that this is worth the read. –

In my parent’s home the book shelves bulged. They had more than one room where, from floor to ceiling, from left to right, hundreds of spines  invited a reader’s caress; a little of everything from my unopened text books, a copy of The Little Prince in French that was probably my sister, Maureen’s, book and books on nearly every topic under the sun.

Without realizing it my father seemed to live on the side of a Groucho Marx quote, “I find television to be very educating.  Every time somebody turns on the set, I go in the other room and read a book.”

I am more of the ilk to appreciate Groucho’s “Outside of a dog, a book is man’s best friend.  Inside of a dog it’s too dark to read.”

Of all of the books piled around only a few stand out in my growing up memories and all have to deal with lessons my father tried to impart to me with marginal success.

As a child I used to look forward to the “before bedtime” with my father reading to me and my older sister, Colleen. After dinner and after he had finished the Chicago Tribune or the Sun Times he would read a mystery to us from Sherlock Holmes or a clever tale from O’Henry.  As I got older I started to pay attention to what he would read for his own pleasure. For some reason he was fascinated with the WWII naval encounters and the Battle of Leyte Gulf in particular. Although he had served on the deck of several ships during the war, by his own admission he had never heard a shot fired in anger.

My teenage years could not have been that pleasant for him and if the choice were his I probably would have had to walk the plank more than once.

I remember one early evening in the living room with astonishing clarity because he paused from his book to talk to me.

He wanted to tell me about the incredible bravery involved in what is now referred to as The Mariannas Turkey Shoot.

This was the decisive naval battle in the Pacific.  It was mostly an air battle fought over two days, June 19^th and 20^th, 1944. When the battle was over little was left of the Japanese fleet and they lost over 600 aircraft. The last engagement was a US launched night air attack, something almost never done at that time because of the difficulty for the pilots to find their way back and land in the darkness. Just before sundown 550 planes took off from the aircraft carriers and flew to the furthest extent of their safety margins to drive the final stake into the heart of the Japanese navy. The cost of their bravery was that the planes began to run out of fuel before they could return to the carriers. Radio operators cried as pilots would ask them to pray for their safety just before they went silent and crashed into the inky sea. In all, only 20 were lost in combat, another 80 had to ditch.

But what I think that my father wanted me to learn was about loyalty, honor and responsibility to our friends and to those who depend upon us.

Martin Luther King said “The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.”

With no moon to light their way the pilots started to fall into the waves.

As those anxious and frightened young pilots disappeared from the fleet’s radar Vice Admiral Mitscher commanded all of his ships to turn on their running lights, the carrier swept the sky with their klieg lights and picket destroyers fire starburst shells to guide them home running all of the risks from Japanese submarines that infested those waters.

Sometimes in life we all face such decisions though the consequences are certainly, hopefully, less detrimental.

Vice Admiral Mitscher risked his life and the lives of many others to perform the only honorable alternative. His crew, his pilots, his friends were worth every risk and he didn’t fail them in their hour of need.

God forbid that I should ever be tested to such degree but God give me the strength to have shoulders enough to support my friends in their hour of need.

On a lighter note, Bali-HI at both locations will offer 15% off on most mirrors for the month of June. You know we have a fabulous selection from $5 to $55 and every kind of mirror you can imagine for your home or office!  We will also be offering a special sale on our vintage aloha shirts just in time for Father’s Day on June 20^th. Watch your e-mail or fan us if you are on Facebook and we’ll let you know what the skinny is!

Our selection of art and crafts from local artists continues to expand. Some very popular new items are the handcrafted cross stitched suede and leather bags, pillow covers, and beautifully crafted and painted boxes and bangles brought to us by Mariyam Bashir from her family in Kashmir.  The passport bags are perfect for your summer travels and they are almost gone so come check them out before it is too late!

We love the new location in Railroad Square!  We are both there on 1^st Fridays until 9 PM. This 1^st Friday falls on June 4^th. We are air-conditioned and in the cottage at 565 Industrial Drive next to Star Seas Café.Our hours there are 11-6 PM Tuesday – Sat. and Sunday 12-5 PM.  In Midtown find us @ 1123 Thomasville Rd. and around back with ample shaded parking. We are open there Tuesday – Friday 11-6 PM and Sat. 11-5 PM. Call 766-7175, email us at  aloha@balihi.us, or visit our website www.balihi.us .

Best Wishes & Peace,

Elaine & Bill Grace

BALI HI Trading Company
565 Industrial Dr. – In Railroad Square
1123 Thomasville Rd – In Midtown
850/ 766-7175
aloha@balihi.us
www.balihi.us

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“In May, nature holds up at us a chiding finger, bidding us remember that we are not gods, but over conceited members of her own great family.  She reminds us that we are brothers to the chowder-doomed clam and the donkey; lineal scions of the pansy and the chimpanzee, and but cousins-german to the cooing doves, the quacking ducks and the housemaids and policemen in the parks.”
-  O’ Henry, The Month of May

May is named for  Maia, Mother of Mercury, the goddess of blessings. She gave her name to the fifth month of the Julian calendar. Through dancing and feasting her approval was sought.

The Goddess was once thought of as a source of all … feeling, intuition, dreams, passion, love and creativity. She was connected to the cycles of the moon and to the Earth. The Moon was thought to be the source of dew, sacred healing water. Water as a cleansing or purifying agent always played an important part in ancient festivities associated with a new year.

May is the month of gardens in the yard and in our life. And oh the weeds and unintended sprouts that grow between the rows.

There was an afternoon once, in May actually, that I spent a portion of it pondering the irony of a tiny garden that I had thrown some seeds at. On this Sunday, as the sun was falling west down Stuckey St., I was exhausted from being up the entire night before. In a distracted fashion my mind wandered and mulled over how unfairly treated were the roots of my plants. I tended to only notice the blooms and the fruits of my garden and gave nary a whit of thought to the labor of the tendrils that moved unseen, out of the attention of the sun. For a moment I accepted that that was so true for me in my very life, that I marveled and desired the beautiful, the exotic and distant and gave little purchase to those closest to me, my family, my friends, my true roots. And for a moment I was ashamed and glad that I was alone and no one could watch me wipe my eyes.

On a different note, I ask you, how can I let Mother’s Day go by without thanking my own mother, Fran/Mom, for putting up with me, forgiving my faults, ignoring my foibles and for having the love and strength enough to raise a wonderful herd of a family?

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.

And to all of the mothers in the BALI HI family.

So, what else is going on, eh? Would a Grand Opening make you happy?

Our Bali-HI family is growing daily with new artists and a new location in Railroad Square Art Park!  We are now located in a cute little cottage at 565 Industrial Drive next to Star Seas Cafe! We hope you will join us 1st Friday, May 7th from 6 – 9 PM for our grand re-opening in the Square!  We can still be found in Midtown at 1123 Thomasville Rd. in the Salmon colored building we are around back on the ground floor or you can come down the stairs or elevator through Lucy and Leo’s and Textures. It is more magical to enter through the verdant courtyard and enjoy some of the comfortable teak chairs in the garden.  Our hours in the Square will be Tuesday – Sat. 11-6 PM and Sunday 12-5 PM with Laine joining me on 1st Fridays until 9 PM.  The Midtown hours are now Tuesday – Friday 11-6 PM and Sat. 11-5 PM.

Our local artist family has grown and we now feature over 21 local artists with a monthly featured artist in Midtown.  We still offer all our great Hawaiian and Bali arts and crafts too!  The featured artist this month in Midtown is Rene’ Lynch who has installed some beautiful tropical watercolors including some small box framed pieces that are very affordably priced!  Rene’ spent a year long sabbatical on Kuaui so you know she’s got island style!  We also have several new fine jewelry crafters, some beautiful chain stitched bags, and more great mosaics from Cindy Sbrissa.

Best Wishes & Peace,

Elaine & Bill Grace

BALI HI Trading Company
565 Industrial Dr. – In Railroad Square
1123 Thomasville Rd – In Midtown
850/ 766-7175
aloha@balihi.uswww.balihi.us

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“We’ve been around, we fall, we fly
We mostly fall, we mostly run
And every now and then we try
To mend the damage that we’ve done”

For some reason I find myself listening to Leonard Cohen with increasing frequency. He certainly doesn’t have the crooner’s velvety throat but when my folksinger stepping stones begin with Bob Dylan and Dave Von Ronk, the bar gets set sort of limbo low.

The lyrics above were lifted from Cohen’s tune, “Song of Bernadette”.

Sometimes on a long road trip, with the CD playing and the white sound whoosh coming through the open moon-roof, those four lines cause me to pause. Though I have fallen so many times, I have always had dear friends, and now Laine, to help me get back up. And those few times that I would fly, I would do so with the wings of a misguided angel. And the damage that I have sometimes left in my wake has often been among the greatest lessons that I have learned.

I mention this song because on April 16^th, 1879, Saint Bernadette Soubirous, saw a vision of the Virgin Mother in a cave outside the village of Lourdes, France.

Miracles happened then and they have happened since to those who touch the holy water, so they say.

I know a joke about two guys who make a pilgrimage to the grotto. Maybe I will tell it to you later.

Coincidently enough the musical, The South Pacific, also was debuted in April, in 1949.  It was the only musical production ever to win all four Tony Awards for acting. Although best remembered for song like “Some Enchanted Evening”, “Happy Talk” and our favorite, “Bali Ha’I”, what is easily overlooked is the issue of racial prejudice that was sensitively and candidly explored, particularly for the 1949 stage work.

One more April reference that many of you can appreciate is that on April 17^th, 1964, Ford debuted the Mustang. Steve McQueen made it famous when he drove it in the 1968 movie, “Bullitt” but Laine made it beautiful and worthy of a song of her own when she drove her “Stang”s to the Tampa-St. Pete beaches.

So, you say, ancient history is fun but what is happening at BALI HI in this lifetime?

I am always glad when you ask. Tonight be sure to drop by BALI HI Midtown at 1123 Thomasville Rd. We are in the back, downstairs, in the salmon colored building just north of Whataburger, and, hey, we have the huge parking lot! Come in through the “Wonderland” courtyard where the mystical music of Didja Vu will be setting the stage for the evening.

Inside you will find a “Mosaic Wonderland”. Cindy Sbrissa is an incredible mosaic artist and her work goes out the door as fast as she can bring it in so come early and often.

The reception for Cindy is tonight, First Friday, from 6-9pm. Cindy is the featured artist in BALI HI Midtown for the month of April and our hours are Tuesday-Friday 11am-6pm and Saturday 11am-5pm.

In the courtyard you will also find the colorful work of Didja Vu’s talented drummer, Mershell Sherman.

Saturday April 3^rd will bring as “Artist’s Garden Party” in the courtyard and spilling out into the huge parking lot! Cindy will be there to show you how she makes her magic! You can see the art and meet the artists. Joan Matey, Patty Maney, Barbara Psimas, Mershell Sherman and Cheryl Sattler will be there from Noon-5pm.

BALI HI in both locations is also having a very special sale on teak furniture in preparation for our move to a new Railroad Square location. Take advantage of us and get 25% to 50% off a lifetime piece of unique, solid teak furniture. The perfect time to take your comfortable teak chair and live in the garden! We are happy to offer layaway too!

By the way, if you fall in love with the Midtown BALI HI courtyard, please note that our space there is available to rent for your special event. Call Elaine at 766-2053 if you are interested. Also check us out at www.balihi.us or email us at aloha@balihi.us.

Finally, let me remind you of the 3^rd Annual Peace In the Park Festival being held out at the Railroad Square Art Park next Sunday, April 11^th, from Noon-6pm. This event is to celebrate the great work that our friends and neighbors do every day to make Tallahassee and Leon County such a wonderful place to live.

We will have squad cars and fire trucks, over 50 community organizations will have tables set up so that they can introduce themselves to you. Mayor John Marks is the Festival’s Guest of Honor.  We will also have 14 bands performing on 4 stages throughout the park and fun for children of all ages.

The Blood Mobile will be here too and they desperately need a pint from you. In just ½ an hour you can save a life.

Check out the website at http://www.peaceinthepark.info

Best Wishes & Peace to you,

Elaine & Bill Grace
BALI HI Trading Company

Well, you see, this whole thing started with me wanting to tell you about our March 3^rd Sale. The idea behind this generosity is actually Laine’s way to celebrate Hina Matsuri or Girls’ Day with you.  

Hina Matsuri is the annual Girls’ Day Festival celebrated on March 3, (3/3), by Japanese and Okinawan families in Hawai’i. Hina Matsuri evolved from ancient Shinto purification ceremonies. Using origami dolls, girls could rid themselves of impurities by breathing upon the paper dolls, rubbing the dolls against their bodies, then casting away the dolls, and thus their sins, into a river.

Anyway, I thought that for this newsletter I would be a regular polymath and so I Googled “#3” to explore whatever few trite factoids bubbled up and I figured that I could throw them out to you like beads at a Gasparilla parade. Now I know the meaning of the Irish slang, clever dick.

Few bauble indeed. I discovered math enough to twist and tangle a strong man’s mind: Fibonacci Numbers, Heegner Numbers, Mersenne Prime, Lucas Prime, Stern Prime, for cryin’ out loud, Vulgar Fractions, too. Has math no mercy?

So, still with my mind spinning like a samara in the fall breeze, I switched tracks hoping to find something simpler and closer to the soul so I sought a metaphysical expression of the #3 and – bam- The Holy Trinity – swoosh – The Triple Goddess – pow – Thesis+Antithesis=Synthesis – Divine Law, Natural Law, Human Law. Even Mark Twain has his troika, “Lies, Damn Lies and Statistics”.

Although, I must admit that I am pleased to have found Robert Sternberg’s 3 Components of Love; Passion, Intimacy, Commitment.

And, yet, the 3s are still unexhausted.

3 Strikes
3 Wishes
3 Pigs
3 Witches
3 Blind Mice
3 Musketeers
3^rd time is the charm
Tinkers-to-Evers-to-Chance

Even our TV’s are set up to play the DVD on channel 3.

Did you know, do you care, that there are 3 golf balls on the moon?

I always thought that a Hat Trick was a well dressed gentleman on the wrong side of town.

Curley, Larry & Moe working for the law firm, Dewey, Cheatem & Howe.

Enough already! Don’t even get me started on the number 9.

So, let me just tell you about the damn sale –

Our main location at 1123 Thomasville Rd. in Midtown will also offer a special Girl’s Day Sale on 3/3 – 3/7.  All non-consigned jewelry will be 20% off.  We do have a wonderful selection of local jewelry artists and although their art is not on sale at this time you can still treat yourself to a lovely Girl’s Day gift for a very reasonable price! This month’s featured artist is Cheryl Sattler. Cheryl will be sharing with us “Moments in Time”. Cheryl sees time a little differently than most. In her delicate, sometimes gravity defining glasswork, she captures the essence of moments in time – their wonder and ephemeral nature. “Life speeds by leaving us with memories of moments.” There will be an artist’s reception for Cheryl at the Midtown location on 1^stFriday, 3/5 from 6 to 9 PM.

Our regular BALI HI hours are Monday-Friday 11-6 and Sat. 11-5 PM at 1123 Thomasville Rd between the Whataburger and Waterworks. We are downstairs with plenty of parking on the back side of the Salmon colored bldg. or you can enter from the stairs inside Lucy and Leo’s Cupcakery and Textures.  Cheryl’s special exhibit will be on display through March.

The Railroad Square Art Park location in with The Other Side Vintage will have a “Girl’s Day Sale” on all our women’s clothing and purses. Take 20% off from 3/3 through Sun. 3/7 at The Square.  Then look for a sale on some newly acquired Fair Trade/ Eco- friendly albesia wood products sometime in March or April.  We will let you know.

Guys don’t despair because ‘Boy’s Day” is 5/5 and you know Elaine brought back a ton of Aloha shirts when she was in Hawaii in October.

Oh, by the way, red pen circle the date, April 11^th. BALI HI & The Other Side Vintage will be presenting the annual Peace In The Park Festival at Railroad Square. This all day event will celebrate the great work that so many non-profit and civic organizations do every day to make Tallahassee & Leon County such a great place to live. So far we have over 30 community groups registered to participate and 12 bands will perform on 4 stages. Longineu Parsons will perform for the festival and Mayor John Marks will be the guest of honor.

Best Wishes & Peace,

Elaine & Bill Grace
BALI HI Trading Company
aloha@balihi.us
850/ 766-7175