Debbie Roskamp: T-Boy Photographer and Writer

The Molino Stucky Hilton in Venice

When my PR team booked me a room at a Hilton Hotel, I was surprised. It seemed strange to me, a Hilton in Venice. But that all changed once I stepped into the sublime Molino Stucky Hilton, a repurposed flower mill, nestled on the shores of picturesque Giudecca Island. The hotel was accessible by a short shuttle boat, just a twenty-minute ride to Venice’s spectacular Grand Canal.

My room was one of the elegant Molino suites which evoked the timeless design of the history of Venice, featuring stylish décor embellished with fabrics and Murano glass design details, including the Murano glass chandeliers. The views were enchanting, complete with comfortable king-size Serenity Beds and separate living rooms. The Executive Lounge offered complementary beverages, snacks and meals. The roof top pool featured breathtaking views and proved the perfect way to relax and unwind after exploring the hustle-bustle of Venice.

Audrey Hart: T-Boy Food Writer

The Paul Gauguin – Tahiti

As the Paul Gauguin docked in Tahiti, the first thing I noticed was the intoxicating scent of tropical vegetation. My cabin on the vessel was spacious, but what was waiting for me outside was even better. Indigenous Tahitian cuisine features what’s available from the land and sea. With such a plethora of fresh fruit and fish, it is virtually impossible to starve on the islands. Due to presence of the French (Tahiti is part of French Polynesia) there is a delectable hybrid of French and Polynesian creations. Coconut milk and vanilla – much stronger than the vanilla found in Mexico – are incorporated in many of the dishes. Poisson Cru, tuna cured in lime juice with chopped green onions, cucumbers and tomatoes; and Fife, a chicken stew with spinach-like taro leaves are among my favorites. The taro root (more flavorful than Hawaiian poi) is boiled like potatoes and not pounded. Breadfruit, sweet potatoes, and plantains also offer typical island starch fare. Mangoes, bananas, watermelon, pineapple, papaya, guava, sour sop and pummelo are in abundance. From the lagoons come parrotfish, perch, and mullet; from the open sea the freshest of tuna, bonito, Wahoo, scad and mahi mahi. For an insightful overview of these gastronomic delights, visit the main market in downtown Papeete, the capital of French Polynesia. Bon appétit!

Fyllis Hockman: T-Boy Writer

Mohonk: Sumptuous Old-World Flavor Tastefully Wrapped in Casual Elegance

When the couple, there for their 20th visit, commented that it was the first time they had taken the house tour -– one of the staples of the Mohonk Mountain House experience — I asked what they had been doing all those years. Liz and Dan Gleason from Haddon Heights, NJ replied: “There’s just so much to do all the time, you just can’t fit it all in. Every year, there’s a new surprise. This year, it’s the Smiley family parlor.”

And therein lie two of the greatest pleasures at this glorious old resort in New Paltz, NY –- activities to keep you busy all day (but only if desired) and the connection to the Smiley family, who has owned and operated the resort for over 150 years.

That connection reverberates throughout the property, which has been dragged kicking and screaming into the 21st century. First bought in 1869 by twins Albert and Alfred Smiley, the 10-room tavern that sat on 300 acres of lake and farm area has been expanded to encompass 266 rooms in connected buildings spanning a sixth of a mile, while the property now extends to 1200 acres, all of which is being regularly sanitized in compliance with CDC guidelines.

Which leaves you very unprepared for the grandiose creation greeting you as you drive up. The mammoth building sitting atop a hill more resembles a haunted house than a mountain resort. All jutting angles and balustrades, widows peaks and turrets, circular, angular and pointed wood, stone and rock cliffs result in a hodge-podge of architectural styles for which eclectic is an understatement. It’s an imposing mish-mosh of disparate styles, all tacked one upon the other, without thought to form or aesthetic. You don’t know whether you’ve arrived at a world-class hotel (which it is), Rapunzel’s castle or the Addams Family abode; you do know that it’s wonderful.

A walk through its many halls presents a similar adventure. A labyrinth of hallways, stairways, cubicles and cubby halls features a surprise at every turn: a library, billiard room, activity center. The life-size stuffed Basset Hound and Russell Terrier in front of the gift shop were so real I was sure I heard them bark.

Around every corner, a rocking chair, lounge chair, or settee looking out on yet another beautiful view. Long porches and outdoor alcoves everywhere lined with more rocking chairs, many facing the lake caressed by canoes, rowboats, kayaks and paddle boats beckoning for attention. The whole idea is to get guests to look at, get out in and enjoy the surrounding nature. Or not. Sitting also is good.

Some resorts boast multiple restaurants and swimming pools –- at Mohonk, it’s rocking chairs and gazebos. The connection with nature is all-encompassing. Be prepared: there are so many places -– gazebos, benches, chairs, hidden nooks, alcoves, both indoors and out — enticing you to just sit and read that you should carry a book with you at all times (or, if you’re under 18, your iPod).

Sitting on our balcony –- on yes, yet another rocking chair — overlooking the views was so peaceful we had to force ourselves to get up and start undertaking the myriad of activities awaiting us. As an incentive to get moving, the map of the building lists 59 different destinations –- and those are just indoors!

Just as the current structure is essentially unchanged since 1902, the same goes for the initial mission of the resort, as first espoused by Albert Smiley: it remains dedicated to a renewal of the mind, body and spirit in a beautiful natural setting. That vision still permeates the property, embodying an old-world ambience that adds charm and character that no modern-day hotel complex can come close to matching.
You want to do some hiking, rock-climbing or mountain biking? You’re in the right place. Want to ride a snowmobile, a Jet Ski or watch TV – you’re not. Mohonk is all about tranquility. And simplicity. This is not the kind of place where they bring you umbrella drinks by the pool.

Okay, there actually is a TV located in one of the meeting rooms but a guest survey taken several years ago in which 97% of respondents said they didn’t want them in the rooms probably assures that there won’t be many more making an appearance. And the 15-20 local Smileys still involved in day-to-day operations probably also guarantee that the same ideal will continue. But make no mistake: this is no out-dated, out-of-touch, old-fashioned resort experience; I predict an exciting, activity-laden, fun-filled time to which, like the Gleasons, you’ll want to return to year-after-year.

Now, about those outdoor activities? There’s swimming, inside and out, fitness center and spa, boating, fishing, yoga, guided nature tours, croquet, golf, disc golf, tennis and, in winter, ice skating, snowshoeing and tubing. Eighty-five miles of carriage roads and trails are available for hiking, running, biking, horseback riding and cross-country skiing.

Strolling the grounds is an activity in itself, past fish ponds, a putting green, stables, a Barn Museum chock-full of fascinating antiques and historic memorabilia, and extensive award-winning gardens. Some are laid out in a well-marked precisely structured design, an interesting antidote to the resort’s chaotic architectural structure; other less manicured foliage spill out over more trellised walkways and, yes, more gazebos, leading around, through, between, beneath and beyond an intricate maze — literally — of evergreen trees. Mohonk mellows, meditates and motivates all at the same time. For more information, call 1/800-772-6646 or visit www.mohonk.com.

Ringo Botano

Hotel Montana, Switzerland

Much of Lucerne, Switzerland, was before me from my spacious corner room at the Art Deco Hotel Montana.

Richard Carroll: T-Boy Writer

 Ballyfin, Ireland

The rhythms of time and earth and an enormous surging power of culture were hauntingly striking as we were met at the gates by Head Butler and Coachman Lionel Chadwick and his carriage pulled by two prancing horses, who led the way to BallyFin, a neoclassical, 1826, castle-like hotel in the heart of Ireland, amidst a 614-acre estate. The teeth of autumn gnawed at the weather, as the songs of unseen birds drifted in a gusty wind.

Stepping inside this historic building, guests are greeted by a warm Irish welcome. A vanished era is vividly brought back to life at BallyFin, with an unsurpassed grandeur of serenity steeped in eternal memories. The 20-room hotel with whispered secrets, is enamored by Irish hospitality, which is among the best in the world along with Mexico and Fiji. The hotel with crystal chandeliers, inland timber flooring, glorious paintings, and an ambience without a drop of pretension. BallyFin is also home to Michelin-starred chef Richard Picard-Edwards and his eight-acre walled produce garden, which assists the chef in his culinary creativity, set on a table with crystal and silver. When the capriciousness of time told us it’s time to pack our bags, we wished that instead, we were only arriving.

A hotel on the border of Mexico and Guatemala

Covering the world my entire adult life, as a working journalist, with an editorial focus south of the U.S. border, I was driving the African Queen, a VW camper, on assignment, to Panama, as the sun was slowly fading, because it’s not wise to drive at night in Mexico or Guatemala. I stopped in an unnamed village in Guatemala on the Mexico border, at something that looked like a small hotel with a bent sign with bullet holes advertising Cobro beer, and where three lazy dogs out front, not bothering to bark, were sleeping. I walked in, brushing past another sleeping dog who didn’t bother to move, to a small, sagging counter and an attractive, smiling lady with a gold tooth, and blazing black hair, who greeted me wearing a handful of green jade jewelry. I spoke to her in Spanish, and she replied in Q’anjob’al, one of 22 recognized Maya languages. An elderly man sitting on a faded Equipale chair in a corner, who looked like Zorba the Greek, spoke to me in Spanish, explaining that she didn’t speak Spanish, only Maya, and her name is Alitzel. I asked him if he would ask Alitzel if she had a room available. There were only six rooms, but by pure luck, one was available in the back with a window. Alitzel, translated from Maya to English, “Smiling girl,” wrote the number 114 on a scrap of paper, which, converted from quetzales, is just over fifteen dollars. The room had a sink, a ceiling fan, and a cot-like bed with clean bedding. The commode was just down the hall with a few lizards playing tag on the walls, and one dangling lightbulb. I fell asleep, and in about an hour or so, I was awakened by the wonderful sounds of marimba music. I looked out the window, and among the palm trees on a patio, was a colorful hammock where a gray-headed lady was lounging, and a family of four musicians, shoulder to shoulder, one maybe eleven years old, playing a custom and lengthy marimba, next to a rusted old truck that was used as a chicken coop for free-ranging chickens. The serenade lasted for hours, and it was the best night’s sleep ever. In the morning there was a knock on the door, I opened the door to find on a tray, a pot of the famed Guatemalan coffee, hot rolls, white cheese, a steaming dish with eggs, and some savory Maya specialties decorated with pungent flowers. I offered Alitzel, who was wearing an intricately embroidered traditional Maya huipil, to pay for breakfast, but with a few words in broken Spanish, she said, “It’s part of the 114 quetzales.” She also asked me if I would like to have a dog. I would return to Alitzel’s place again, if I could find it, and hopefully the marimba family would be available.    

Phil Marley

The Westin Hotel in San Francisco, California

With a spacious suite overlooking Union Square, cable cars skited up the hill. My stay would never be complete without an Irish Coffee at the lounge.

Ed Boitano: T-Boy Writer

The towering Star Clipper

The Star Clipper is one of the largest and fastest sailing ships on the sea today. Modeled after the clipper ships of the past, it seamlessly blends the best traditions of that legendary era with state-of-the-art amenities of today. With a maximum of just 170 guests, accommodations are spacious and life aboard is relaxed. Morning begins with the hoisting of the sails to the accompaniment of the title theme from the film Master and Commander. It is a moment which most passengers, who are there as much for the nautical experience as the destinations, never miss. Passengers can climb the mast to one of the Crow’s Nest for panoramic views, or quite literally hang on one of the two Widow’s Nets, a blanket-like braided net that hangs over the side of the vessel. Creature comforts include elegant dining room, Tropical Bar and Piano Bar and swimming pools. Snorkeling, sailing, waterskiing and windsurfing are also available. What I liked best was that you could get to know your traveling companions in a casual atmosphere. I think I even made some life-long friends.

Raoul Pascual: T-Boy writer

No particular hotel

I am not easily impressed. I would say the most plush hotel I’ve been to was in Florida when I accompanied my wife to one of her conferences but I can’t remember the hotel. As for me, one hotel is the same as another as long as it covers the basic — a place to sleep and refresh. In Manila I slept overnight at a travel pod and that was good enough for me. Simple and practical — that’s just fine with me. I don’t go out of town to enjoy a hotel. I go for the location. I’m too much of a cowboy I guess. But if there’s a hotel out there that’s willing to change my mind, I’m open to that too.

Perhaps the most fun I’ve had is the Time Share we went to in Angels Camp, CA because that was the first real adventure we had with the kids. But it wasn’t the place that made it enjoyable but the family I got to enjoy it with.

The post Favorite Hotels appeared first on Traveling Boy.

Prologue

It is my intention to help readers to understand the plight of the poor, the homeless and the ‘mentally ill.’ With special attention; never showing your power over another with bullying. The people in the article are real, but their names are fictitious.

Color this cathartic: It is my story which will never change.

CHAPTER ONE

The back story begins seven months ago when I woke up to the sound of my wife’s scream. Her name is Laura. From that morning on, I knew I would never be the same again and take Laura, my wife for 42 years, for granted. I must become a REAL husband who loves his spouse more than himself. And I will now do everything in my power to help her, easing her from the physical and emotional pain.

Laura was experiencing intense pain in her spinal cord. The groans and muffled screams continued for five long months. She would wander around the house, bumping into the walls, sometimes saying that she thought she was dying.

We went to the hospital many times and had many different examinations. It was determined that she had a pinched nerve in the base of her spine, but no specialists could determine why the relentless pain would not subside without triggered shots of steroids. Once the triggered shots had run their course, the excruciating pain would continue. But later, a bone density examination revealed seven cracked ribs and a broken one. Since then, Laura decided not to have further trigger shots, and through diligent stretching, exercise, and prayer; the pain has almost dissipated.

Laura is very private and not an exhibitionist; in particular, she did not want her siblings to know about her spinal pain. Some of her siblings live in small farming areas in Central Washington State, and some are religious cultists. As Laura and I have completely different values; we attempt to approach a person with equality, regardless of race, career, and religion, we are despised. Often a U.S. Hispanic person would be simply dismissed as a Mexican of the migrant variety by some of Laura’s relatives.

These relatives – two siblings and the cyber bullying brother-in-law – view Laura as an anti-Christian, a wayward liberal urban elitist who moved to the big godless city of Los Angeles. Even worse, she is married to me, Jim Smith; a native Seattleite, who was trying to ‘make it’ in Hollywood. When we visit them in Central Washington they pray loudly. Laura privately prays, aware that praying out loud is more of a performance, seeking praise as an actor, rather than expressing true words of thanks to God.

The debacle

As Laura did not want anyone besides me and her doctors/specialists to know about this ordeal. I broke my oath to her. I needed support and prayers from close friends and family who really do love her and even those who don’t. It was a heavy load for me to carry on my own.

Against my best intentions, I also informed each of her four Christian siblings and three in-laws of her unrelenting pain, begging them to privately pray for Laura. This was difficult, requesting that they pray without her knowing it.

Laura’s immediate relatives live under a code of silence, where nothing negative is ever said. Occasionally we do overhear whispers about us, but generally just eyerolls and silence when we express an opinion. It is well understood that we are not considered true Christians or even humanitarians.

The siblings have a family app called PRAISE THE LORD. It is a thread for anyone in need of ‘Christian’ support. The PTL chain can range from the serious – Covid and cancer to a bad cold and even praying for a kitchen appliance to be healed. Yes, faith healing a dish washer out of repair.
Laura’s oldest sister is named, Delila. Her husband of 40 years is Joshua, an unrepentant bully and a narcissist. He took exception to my requests for everyone to pray for Laura’s spinal pain to heal. I was stealing his thunder by informing ever. He believed that he was head of this new adoptive family, and all attention should go to him. Everyone who meets him is aware of his narcissism and self-worship. His long tirades at the family tale are overbearing, how he changed someone’s life, how many pushups he did at the gym, glorified by self-videos and memes sent to us via FB or on the family PTL app.

A Nation of Elvis impersonators

Joshua’s two favorites: dressing in a costume of a fierce Chinese warlord, and a video of him waving a U.S. flag, while charging up a hill, inspiring citizens to follow him in battle. It was an unintentional emulation of the Aryian Übermensch, an example of the master race, climbing an Alpine Mountain with Nazi with swastika imagery. It proved to be effective with the Nazis, but for this man of ignorance who had never been in a battle, the absurdity provoked annoyance and irritation for many who have been in battle.

My father dropped out of high school at 17, joined the Marines, and participated in D-Day the Battle of Iwo Jima and D-Day Battle of Okinawa, often said flag-wavers are jingoists, not patriots. If you’d been in a battle, it is the last thing you would ever want to talk about, Just as worse, my father was a devout Roman-Catholic, not considered a real Christian by some of Laura’s religious cultists siblings and in-laws.

We all felt pity for the bully, Joshua

But everyone is afraid to say anything negative about Joshua because it might hurt the feelings of the oldest sister, Delila. She is regarded to be weak, sweet, and kind, but it’s easy to notice her short comments and side-glances to Joshua in condescension of Laura and me. A farewell back to Southern California generally closed with; “Will pray for you, Jim.” But, strangely never to Laura; only to me, a non-blood relative.

For Joshua, silence meant free reign for more boasting. Sure, this has been happening for 42 years, since the marriage to the oldest sister, Delila. This has been the main problem; silence so it doesn’t cause hurt feeling to the sister, Delila, even though she brought him into ‘the family’ – a family who offered unconditional love. The only love he had experienced prior to that was self-love and self-admiration. Delilia offered that to him more than any other person, but he would humiliate her too in front of her family with bad hygiene, table etiquette, interrupting her when she spoke.

So, as my prayer requests came in for Laura, the bullying brother-in-law, Joshua, posted a photo of himself, bare-chested, staring with vengeance and with threats of rage on Laura’s FB page.

I believe what set him off, his banishment from my wife’s family’s Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years Day family tables in Central Washington. This is where he generally holds court as the de facto head of Laura’s Washington family. After living three and a half years without paying rent and utilities living with Laura’s demented and then departed mother, he and Delilia moved to a rental home in Idaho. As much as the family supported and tried to protect Delilia’s sensitive feelings, maybe the message of his ill repute was beginning to unravel.

Without Mercy

The Sunday attack happened in the evening on a Sunday night when Laura was suffering with unrelentless spinal pain. I had just helped her into bed, set her up with an ice pack, and suggested she should relax and look at her FB account. As she clicked her account on her phone, her body jolted, and her spine hit the wall behind the bed when she saw an unimaginable photograph. She quietly deleted the photo, hoping I wouldn’t notice it. She knew it would upset me more than her.

I managed a quick look and realized it was Joshua’s way to get me to stop with updates about Laura progress to her family. It was the photo of Joshua, bare-chested, staring with vengeance and with threats of rage on Laura’s FB page.

I have only seen reincarnations of the Devil in magazines, cartoons, TV and in movies. But to see someone you know such as Joshua, taking on that personification was horrific. I mean, he wanted to be the Devil. The bullying meme was pathetic, but also powerful for this person would think it would silence me from updates and pleads for everyone to pray for Laura.

I did my best not to appear upset. So, after Laura finally slept, I quietly went into our living room at 11 PM, sending messages to her siblings, demanding to know how they could allow such a terrible thing to happen. How could they admire and respect such a dubious man. His history is dreadful, almost unimaginable. But the unimaginable code of silence remained.

I called what I thought was more of a sane brother, the executor of her family’s will. He’s a busy guy, who works midnight hours. I stayed awake for 46 hours waiting for an answer that never came. I then phoned Laura’s’ youngest sister and husband, who answered my call. Once they made sense of my erratic outrage, they said they would consider flying down to Studio City to protect Laura.
I said it was not necessary; all that was, was stop the cyberbullying of Joshua, but that was not even mentioned.

During the long wait, I wrote a 40-hour narrative on my mobile phone about the recent event, exclaiming all what had happened to Laura, asking for some kind of mercy, sanity. I asked everyone to write a letter to her on how much they loved, respected and accepted her as a Christian.

But all I got back was a virus on my phone from the narcissistic bullying brother-in-law, Joshua, who had managed to cripple my phone, blocking all contact with Laura’s family; so, I could not send the testimonial and contact anyone in the PTL chain.

In the morning, I contacted Laura’s youngest brother. He said he was not about tearing anyone down and spoke with admiration of Joshua. I begged him not to tear anyone down but to help build a wall to protect Laura. The call abruptly ended.

This was crushing. As it turned out, Laura’s siblings and in-law had more sympathy for Joshua, the cyberbully, than for her. I was stunned by this. They were all raised the same way with the same values of their Christian parents. How could they side with a manipulating brother-in-law, Joshua, with his crude prose and pantomime over the honor of their true sister.

Was I going insane?

CHAPTER TWO

The Day of Wrath

The next evening, Laura noticed I was distracted and appeared to be in another world of emotional pain. I explained it was obvious and then called each of her siblings with Laura watching, asking them if it was normal for a husband to be upset by such a malicious act of cyber violence by a brother-in-law.

Each one skirted the question. and insisted I should immediately be taken to the Emergency Room. I was stunned. They chose protecting the honor of the narcissistic brother-in-law, Joshua, over the honor of Laura, their own sister. Laura agreed; I must go to the ER.

Laura was concerned that I was having a nervous breakdown and said it was most important for me to have an analysis by psychiatrists and psychologists to determine if I was dangerously facing insanity. At the same time, I was also concerned that she was having an emotional breakdown, too. I wanted her to have a session with them as well.

Laura had spoken to my clinical psychiatrist the afternoon before, and the doctor agreed with me: How could any husband not be upset when an out-of-control brother-in-law like Joshua posted threatening images of himself, as the Devil, on his wife’s Facebook page?

So, to prove a point, I went willingly and sat in solitary confinement and spoke to two psychologists and two psychiatrists at Kaiser Hospital. All four of the doctors said my rage was a normal reaction when someone posts something so repellent on a loved ones’ FB page. The interviews were recorded for posterity with a security guard looking on.

This was good for my attorney; my testimony was now legally reported. When I made my one phone call to him, he immediately said he would pay out of pocket for a high-tech security system, a 24/7 guard, and contact associate lawyers in Idaho and Washington State. It was then, he realized what a narcissist Joshua really is. And, like most narcissists, he is a wounded bully and would be too much of a coward to act on it in person. “Leave it alone,” he said. “Forget about this guy. Never contact him again.”

It was essential, though, for Laura to have her own session with the professionals. The problem, though, was that Laura left the hospital while her mobile phone was off. The pain in her spine was too much and she needed to rest, so she was unable to corroborate my testimony. It would be unfair for her to have a conference.

What it was like: 12 hours in solitary confinement

I was alone in a room with a wash basin and bed. The fourth wall was glass, with a security guard watching over me. So, I had plenty of time to lay on my back and stare at the ceiling. The matter at hand: why exactly did I end up here, when I was told that I’d simply be given a few blood samples, then an interview with a psychiatrist? The answer was obvious, I might be a threat to someone or to myself. Though this thought was absurd, apparently all bases must be covered to avoid a lawsuit if it was determined that I really was on the road to insanity.

Later, it was easy to meditate and pray. I was able to memorize a few new articles to eventually write, figure out the reason for past concerns and problems; the rest of my time I exercised with the security guard watching.

When dusk fell, the doctor approached me and said that I must spend the night, but there were no open beds at the hospital.

Two ambulance drivers arrived, positioned me onto a stretcher and away we went to a different hospital in downtown Los Angeles. I asked the name, but they remained silent, only that it was located on College Street. I remembered my wife, then a new family nurse practitioner in the mid-1990s, did volunteer work at a Mental Hospital at that address, training nurses how to appropriately evaluate the physical symptoms of new patients and (most importantly) to treat them with kindness and respect.

When I would drive her to and from the hospital, I knew the name Mental Hospital was a place that I would never want to be incarcerated. I had seen too many movies.

CHAPTER THREE

When I was wheeled into Unit Two, I was stunned to see a patient wandering down the hallway, whimpering, “‘We are all DEAD!” It reminded me of the hopeless, shrieking women in Siberia, which Dostoevsky wrote about in The Brothers Karamazov.

One of the ambulance drivers said, relax; be happy I was not in Unit One; yesterday a patient had stabbed his eye with the blunt end of a crayon.

After I checked into the main office, I was led into a room where there were two beds, basically foam pads, resting on firm plastic foundations, with just one short blanket and a pillowcase with a flat pillow. Every 15 minutes, a nurse flashed a commuter light on us, as we were all on a modern-day equivalent of a suicide watch.

I was lucky with my cellmate, Jerry. He seemed more like a polite boy of 20, as opposed to an adult male. His face was marked with burns. Why? You never ask, only listen. His speaking style was often erratic, but you could always feel the depth of forgiveness and kindness in his verse. He never left his covers, only constantly apologizing that he was keeping me awake.

It would take much effort by nurses and assistants to get him to leave the covers of his bed, just so that he may eat in the main dining room. As a veteran of the dining room, I understood his reluctance.

I got to know him better two nights earlier. It was a usual night while I struggled to sleep, but the 15-minute suicide lights would not allow me to. One of the patients had secretly given me a hard copy of the Old Testament. But why secretly? It was not the content; the Old Testament cover had sharp edges, which could be used as a tool for violence.

I was raised as a New Testament Christian and wanted to learn more about our Hebrew God’s Commandments to Moses, 6,000 years ago. But there was no way I was going to disturb my roommate with harsh overhead lights. So, I did my best to sleep.

My first night, I woke up on the floor, surrounded by nurses with cell phone flashlights. I had had a back operation a year before, which damaged it more. At this point, though it hardly mattered, I was given a ‘walker’ to use.

The next evening, I entered the adjoining bedroom. The room was dark and the floor was wet. My roommate wept under the covers and apologized profusely: he had clogged up the toilet with vomiting, feces, and toilet tissue. Like me, he was given strong prescription medication to be calm and avoid outbursts. They were difficult to digest.

I complained to Norman, the head nurse, that the toilet must be fixed. I was informed that plumbing was not part of his job description. On the next shift, two hours later, a powerful looking man of Sudanese origin, unclogged the toilet.

Later, I left my room and asked Norman if I could sit outside in the community room to read where there was light. I was harshly ordered to return to my cell. But I pleaded that turning on the light would upset my roommate. Yet, his answer was firm: “READ IN THE BATHROOM!”

Norman said, I should sit in the starkly lit bathroom, with a lone sink and a toilet without a seat. There was a half-padded foam door, and another half foam door at a shower staff; all eyes must be kept on us.
[A cartoon of a person reading a book AI-generated content may be incorrect.]

He and the other nurse laughed as I reluctantly entered the bathroom, I removed the flimsy padded shower door, sat down on it and read the Old Testament under the harsh bathroom light. I’ve never been particularly religious and will never be regarded as a philosopher, but the light did illuminate the verses.

But, a few hours later, a kind Nigerian American nurse entered my bathroom and was appalled to see me sitting on the floor, reading. I explained to him; I was only following the protocol of the previous Anglo American male nurses.

He replied, he is now in charge of this shift, gently helped me to my feet, and led me to the main community room where there was light, crafts, games, TV, etc. I said I only wanted to read. And a few minutes later he brought me a sandwich, chips and punch. May God Bless Him.

Thanksgiving

I met with the head psychiatrist on the eve of Thanksgiving. Once again, I explained to him that Laura’s brother-in-law, Joshua, was cyberbullying her, by posting threatening photographs of himself half-naked on her FB page.

The head psychiatrist then contacted Laura, who explained it was true. He read my file which noted I was good for patient’s morale, never missing any of the communal events: meals, stretching, craft classes, etc. How to deal with stress in the most edifying way? Relax, assess the situation and remember that patience is a virtue (I think Ben Franklin said that).

The head psychiatrist determined that I could depart, to enjoy Thanksgiving with family and friends. But I decided to stay for a few more days to see if I could help the other patients. After the cyberbullying of Laura’s brother-in-law, Joshua, could handle almost anything. He was pleased to hear that I had encouraged eight patients to write about their experiences on the Traveling Boy website.

Laura never missed a daily visitation – covertly bringing in fresh clothes, food and flowers hidden in books. It’s better to give than receive – and I continued with that mandate, giving three stems of carnations to an underappreciated janitor and then to a young woman of 20 years. They both received the gift with tears, grace, and gratitude.

A Communion among patients

Chuck, one of the veteran patients proved to be my role model. The nurses wanted him to be gone because he was always standing up for patients’ rights, annoying the mandate that some of the nurses followed. I sensed that (either due to large numbers or too much work) the head psychiatrist was a little out of contact with what was happening in the three units.

Earlier, Chuck surprised me. He had noticed that my hospital issued socks were too small for me. He presented me with a new pair of Columbia brand socks, his wife, like Laura, had secretly smuggled in during visiting hours.

When meals were finished in the dining room, he would covertly smuggle uneaten containers of food and bring them to the community room for those who needed more to eat.

Thank you, Chuck. You are among the ones who inspired me to write this article.

When Chuck was to be released, he would intentionally write something dastardly on the form, implying he needed to stay. He once joked that once he wrote that he wanted to harm one of the bullying nurses.

Larry, my roommate, eventually started to join us in the community room, a high point was simply watching him at the main community table playing a wordless game with another patient of a different race who rarely spoke either. It was heartwarming to watch them.

When a new patient would approach me, a frequent question was: “What did you think of me when we first met?” They we so emotionally damaged they often didn’t know who they were. Once, while lying in bed, I felt that way – wondering if I was living in a reality or trapped into a nightmare – a nightmare where Laura was not cyberbullied by the brother-in-law, Joshua. I thought I had proof, but the photo was pulled out by FB administrators.

One new patient spent his time murmuring down the hallway that Satan was making him hate Jesus. Another man, who was kind and sensitive, tried to kill himself because his girlfriend had dumped him due to his timidity, preferring a ruthless (bullying) macho man.

Alex, a tall patient, asked me what I thought of him. The truth was easy: he was strong, handsome, and articulate. He had a pronounced intellectual quality. Later, I learned he was an artist. Soon, he was championing and protecting sensitive patients in our unit.

This led us to Christina, a petite and artistic young lady of twenty. She was one of the two people; Laura and I had given secret stems of carnations. I had assumed she was a victim of another word I dislike as much as bullying: misogyny. Later, during another visit, she gave Laura a Crayola drawing of her.

Chuck, Alex and the rest of us became her protectors when someone tried to bully or issue power over her.

CHAPTER FOUR

Paradise on the floor

I was moved to Unit Three, which really did seem like paradise in comparison to Unit Two. We were given more freedom, plus there was a balcony overlooking LA Chinatown so we could breathe fresh air, demonstrating the freedom which was to eventually come.

The sleeping accommodation was the same as Unit Two. My new roommate was a Spanish language poet and singer, and he would entertain us in group conferences, where we were all invited to join in. Like most of the inmates, he was close to being released.

Yet, there was trouble in paradise with a bullying, tyrannical head nurse, Marcus, who would order us around and mock us as crazy loonies behind our back. When I noticed this, I would ask them why they were not creating a healthy environment, which was emotionally essential to return to freedom. He would laugh and shrug his shoulders. They were like underqualified highway patrol cops who would pull anyone over without question.

The inch high pillow was a problem. I asked him if he could at least have a pillowcase. He threw one at me — “THAT SHOULD BE ENOUGH!” he said. At this point, I was only getting approximately three hours of sleep at night.

The head psychiatrist had informed both me and the rough head nurse, Marcus, that if I could not go back to sleep, I should approach the nurses’ station and ask for sleep medication. This was followed by a sandwich. It was a heavy dose of medication, and food was essential for digestion. The wrapped sandwich was grudgingly given to me. At this point, I became too intimidated to remind him to bring me the required sandwich after each sleep medication.

Enough was enough.

Just approaching the cruel nurse Marcus was all too much. I had a secret meeting with an alternative head nurse and social worker. I had a laundry list of insults, but what I had said was enough. My highly respected medical doctor (Dr. Hirshfeld) and Laura also changed the landscape in Unit Three — kindness, respect and professionalism was now required.

Marcus, the tyrannical nurse, was stripped of his power over me and three-other patients.

Freedom

I was released after ten days in the mental hospital. I thought I would return to a relativity normal life as my wife drove me home, but I still struggle, trying to understand the difference between good vs. evil. I’m not certain of the status of the bullying, brother-in-law, Joshua. We still receive images of self-grandeur on the family PTL app but nothing devoted to hurting Laura. Perhaps Laura’s family of siblings and in-laws really did step to the plate and strip him of his bullying power over others.

It was a long Ten Days that Shook my World. Now the healing continues.

POSTSCRIPT

Don’t be conflicted — just give! What I do wish is for everyone to understand is the plight of the mentally ill. Accept them as fellow human beings.

Once, when Pope Francis was in New York City, he wrote an op-ed in the New York Times. He wrote how every day we are approached by panhandlers and must make a moral decision if that person is worth a handout. Don’t be conflicted! Just give! And most importantly, look the person in the eye and illustrate that you accept them as a fellow human being.

I’m not certain if cyberbullying existed when Pope Francis wrote his op-ed in the New York Times, but am certain what he feels about it today.

Movies I recommend

• A Woman Under the Influence; John Cassavetes
• Tiitticut Follies: Fredrick Wiseman
• Shock Corridor: Samuel Fuller
• Let there Be Light: John Huston
• Lilith: Robert Rosen

The post Ten Day Odyssey That Shook My World appeared first on Traveling Boy.

ANSWER: Austrians love to socialize, either at wine taverns or cafés where they hang out. Austrians love to ski, snowboard and even ice-climb in winter and hike/walk in the Austrian Alps and bicycle in Summer. They are also avid theater, concert and opera goers and even the small villages have bands, choirs, and folklore groups.

Photo courtesy: Austrian Tourist Office / Ascher

Photos courtesy: Österreich Werbung / J. Mallaun / Himsl

What’s one thing the public probably does NOT know about Austria?

ANSWER: Austria is over 1000 years old and up until the 20th Century was one of the world’s largest empires. Austria became a European power not by warfare, but by strategically marrying into the other royal families of Europe thereby neutralizing any enemies. A good example of this is Empress Maria Theresa’s daughter, the unfortunate Marie Antoinette, who married King Louis XIV and ended up losing her head.

Top Photo courtesy: Austrian Tourist Office / Trumler
Bottom Photos courtesy: Österreich Werbung / Trumler / Lammerhuber

Share some aspect of Austria as regards to what it has contributed to the world.

ANSWER: In the field of music alone, composers such as Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Johann Strauss, Josef Haydn, Franz Liszt, Franz Schubert, Anton Bruckner, Gustav Mahler and Arnold Schoenberg brought great joy to the world.

Photos courtesy: Österreich Werbung / Gruenert / Trumler

Photo courtesy: Austrian Tourist Office / Mayer

For further information about Austria, click-on: www.austria.info/us

The post The Austria You Didn’t Know appeared first on Traveling Boy.

Story and photo by Ed Rampell, a Los Angeles-based film historian and critic.

The recently revived Committee for the First Amendment, begun in 1947, during the era of anti-communist hearings in the U.S. House of Representatives and Senate, took the struggle against censorship to the belly of the beast, Washington, D.C. There, original committee member Henry Fonda’s daughter Jane Fonda, along with folksinger Joan Baez, singer and actor Billy Porter, and other free speech champions took to the streets in protest.

They raised their voices to draw attention to and resist the Trump Administration’s increasingly authoritarian efforts to censor the arts, news reporters, and media organizations, epitomized by the takeover of the nearby Kennedy Center, recently renamed the Donald J. Trump and John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts. They did so by harkening back to another dark time in U.S. history, eighty years ago—the purges and persecutions of the McCarthy era.

The March 27 demonstration, which took place on a drizzly afternoon just prior to the “No Kings” Day mobilizations in the nation’s capital and elsewhere around the country, drew members of the press with television cameras perched on risers. Other journalists and supporters—all of whom had to first pass through security screening—sat on about 150 folding chairs in a gated area, facing a specially constructed stage in front of the Kennedy Center that was festooned with pro-freedom-of-speech signs and next to the Watergate Complex.

One attendee, Miles Taylor, said he came because he was “a big fan of what Jane Fonda has done with the Committee for the First Amendment, resurrecting a free speech organization from the McCarthy era for a moment that is arguably vastly more dangerous for democracy.” Taylor,  a former Department of Homeland Security official, is embroiled in his own free speech battle, as he told The Progressive: “Trump accused me of treason and opened up a federal investigation” because of an anonymously written 2018 op-ed in The New York Times critical of the first Trump Administration. 

The original Committee for the First Amendment actually predated the rise of Wisconsin Republican Senator Joseph McCarthy’s anticommunist witch hunt, which began in 1950. 

“The Committee for the First Amendment is a recreated organization that was first formed in 1947 by Hollywood actors and directors rallying in support of a group called the Hollywood Ten,” James Lardner told The Progressive at the protest. His father, screenwriter Ring Lardner Jr., was summoned before  the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC), along with others, “to testify about their political beliefs and associations.” 

Asked by the Congressional inquisitors if he was a member of the Communist Party, Ring Lardner Jr. famously quipped: “I could answer the question the way you want . . .  but if I did, I would hate myself in the morning.” Lardner, who had won an Academy Award for co-writing the 1942 Katharine Hepburn-Spencer Tracy comedy Woman of the Year, was imprisoned and fined for contempt of Congress along with the other members of the Hollywood Ten. 

His son James, who is involved in the climate action group Third Act and distributed No Kings Day leaflets at the event, believes threats to free speech today are “worse [than in the times of the Hollywood blacklist]. We are spiraling towards dictatorship, a white nationalist police state, to a degree that wasn’t true in the late 1940s.”  

From 1947-1960, the Hollywood Ten and about 300 other Hollywood talents who refused to provide to HUAC the names of others accused of leftwing politics, were labeled as “un-American” and blacklisted from working in the film and television industry. But none of them were ever charged with espionage or sabotage: Their real “crime” was publicly expressing viewpoints disapproved of by the U.S. government.

At 2:00 p.m. on Friday, March 27, Crys Matthews kicked off the program, saying, “I’m Black, a woman, lesbian, and a folksinger,” after which she sang her 2025 anthem “Sleeves Up.”. Next, activist and actor Jane Fonda took the stage, explaining why she was reestablishing the committee which her father had been an original member of in 1947, together with other movie stars such as Fredric March, Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall, and Judy Garland. 

“The attacks from the government are far more comprehensive today,” Fonda told the gathering. “Books are being banned, plaques and monuments depicting historical events this administration wants to forget are being removed [from] museums, the National Endowment of the Arts [and] state arts councils” are under attack, contends Fonda, who decried Trump’s seizing control of the Kennedy Center, where “fifty more people were fired just today. Some of them are with us [at this event].”

The two-time Oscar winner went on to condemn media mergers that the Trump Administration has been approving, while “he goes after artists. We can model courage, and courage is contagious . . . . The general public may think all this doesn’t affect them, but it does. If we don’t fight back, the news will be increasingly fake, and we won’t be allowed to know what’s happening. Our children’s academic curriculum will be actually censored and ticket costs for cultural events will go up while the quality will go down.”

Fonda proclaimed that “the bedrock of our democracy is the First Amendment,” which, she noted, “suffers greatly in times of war” as the government “works to crush internal dissent.” Fonda should know: She was surveilled by the FBI and persecuted for her outspoken opposition to the war in Vietnam, where she intrepidly traveled as U.S. bombs dropped. She was pejoratively nicknamed “Hanoi Jane” because of her relentless advocacy of peace with the Vietnamese people.

Novelist Ann Patchett spoke next, warning that “Book burning is a terrible thing; 300 books have been pulled from bookshelves. It’s not just Lady Chatterley’s Lover, it’s Toni Morrison’s Beloved.” She was followed by former MSNBC and CNN hosts Joy Reid and Jim Acosta, both of whom spoke out against news censorship, denouncing the arrests and court cases against Don Lemon and Georgia Fort. Reid, who is a woman and  Black (two populations unable to vote for much of our nation’s existence), defended the First Amendment, saying: “You can fault the framers [of the Constitution] without faulting the frame.”

A highlight of the afternoon’s program was a reenactment of the June 12, 1956, HUAC hearing of Black activist, actor, and singer Paul Robeson, portrayed by Billy Porter. Robeson delivered what is probably the most defiant testimony in the annals of the blacklist, which the performers reenacted using the actual HUAC transcripts. 

“The reason that I am here today . . . from the mouth of the State Department itself, is: I should not be allowed to travel because I have struggled for years for the independence of the colonial peoples of Africa . . . . The other reason that I am here today, again from the State Department . . . is that when I am abroad I speak out against the injustices against the Negro people of this land . . . . I am being tried for fighting for the rights of my people, who are still second-class citizens in this United States of America.”

Grammy-nominated singer-songwriter Maggie Rogers then performed, followed by legendary activist and musician Joan Baez, who sang Bob Dylan’s classic “The Times They Are A-Changin’ ” and the Civil Rights Movement freedom song, “Ain’t Gonna Let Anybody Turn Me ’Round.”  

Other speakers and performers included poet and author Rupi Kaur; Emmy-nominated writer and author Bess Kalb; Katie Bethell, executive director of  MoveOn and a No Kings organizer; Jessica J. González, co-CEO of the media reform group Free Press; and Logan Keith, national communications coordinator of the 50501 movement and an organizer with No Kings. 

Finally, the crowd heard from Kristy Lee, a self-described “gay, legally married folksinger from the South” who pulled out from a scheduled performance at the Kennedy Center over concerns about Trump’s “political branding” of events there. “Playing there would have cost me my integrity, which is worth more than a paycheck,” she explained. Lee called Fonda, Baez, and all of the other performers and speakers to join her onstage for a rousing rendition of her song “Free Love.”

The Los Angeles-based Fonda, still spry at age eighty-eight, later announced that she was leaving to attend the flagship No Kings rally in Minnesota. It was a moment that reminded this film historian of her father’s speech at the end of 1940’s film The Grapes of Wrath, when, during the depths of the Great Depression, Henry Fonda’s character Tom Joad leaves his family to join the struggle to unionize farmworkers, explaining: “I’ll be all around in the dark—I’ll be everywhere. Wherever you can look—wherever there’s a fight, so hungry people can eat, I’ll be there. Wherever there’s a cop beatin’ up a guy, I’ll be there.”   

The post Hollywood Stars Join Together to Defend the First Amendment appeared first on Traveling Boy.

What are some of the “things” or activities that people in Norway do for fun?

ANSWER: Friluftsliv, directly translated as “open air living”, is the Norwegian way of outdoor recreation and an important part of the Norwegian cultural legacy.

What’s one thing the public probably does NOT know about Norway?

ANSWER: Norway has evolved from the poorest nation in Western Europe to the wealthiest – yet we don’t boast or show-off and still live a frugal lifestyle. Of course, we’re the only nation in the world who goes shopping in Sweden for bargains.

Share some aspect of Norway as regards to what it has contributed to the world.

ANSWER: I think the Trampe (Norwegian: Sykkelheisen Trampe) is the first and only bicycle lift and is absolutely more fun than anything else. The prototype was built in 1993 in Trondheim, and still in service today. Trampe is a Norwegian verb meaning “to stomp”. We also invented the Cheese slicer.

For further information about Norway, click on: www.visitnorway.com

The post The Norway You Didn’t Know appeared first on Traveling Boy.

Charlie O. Hamasaki: An excerpt from the Terminal Island series.

Interviewed by Toshiro Izumi
March 2, 1994
Transcribed by Mary Tamura

Where were you born?
I was born on Oct. 7, 1922, Wakayama-ken, Shimotara, Japan. But there’s a catch to it, like I was telling you. I was made over here in March, 1922 in mama’s stomach and then we took our family to Japan—my brothers and sister. My mother and father they left them there because of the hardship that they were going to have when they came back. I was still in mama’s stomach. Then my older brother got measles so she overstayed in Japan for a month. During that time I was born. So I was born in Japan but actually I was made over here. If I go to court, I’d probably win that case. Now if you kill a fetus, it’s considered murder today. So April I came back when I was one or two months old I came here to Terminal Island, California.

Can I get your brothers’ and sisters’ names?
My oldest sister Emiko, next is brother Tamikazu, next Futomi, next sister Shizuka, brother Uzuhiko and I’m the last one in the family.

You said you were one month when your mother brought you back to the U.S. Actually, you had no educational background in Japan.
Yes, that’s right.

What can you recall about Terminal Island—earliest time?
You know at two or three years old, nobody is going to remember nothing, you know. Actually the first thing I remember is kindergarten. My teachers’ names were Ms. Burbank and Ms. Overstreet. Two teachers. The thing I recall the most, me and my buddy, Tetsuya Ryono. He and I was one of the rowdy kind of kid. She always use to put us under the piano while they were playing the piano. We were put under the piano. We talked too much. One day, me and Tetsuya said, “We gotta do something about this. Hey, Tetsuya, why don’t you bite one side of the teacher’s leg and I bite on the other side.” So that’s what we did. “One, two, three, go!” We bite one time. Man, you ought to see the teacher scream. She jumped up and you know what she did? She took us to the bathroom and put soap in our mouth! That’s the one thing I recall when I was little boy, little brat. The report card those day use to have gold stars—five gold stars means you’re A plus. When we got our report card we had silver star—one only. I can still remember that.

Aside from that incident, what was your childhood like, at home, at school playground?

I can remember my childhood days because like other families had lots of brothers and sisters. Like I said earlier, my mother and father left the kids in Japan so when I came back I was by myself. I was a lonely, little kid. If I recall, Terminal Island was a community that we all knew each other. So I use to have a lots of playmates so I wasn’t too lonely. But night time I was lonely and scared because my father was out fishing, my mother was working at cannery and I hardly see them and I couldn’t go home to sleep after seeing especially a scary movie. I use to go to the cannery where my mother was working. I use to sleep in the empty, big boxes which the tin cans use to come in. I use to sleep until my mother finished the job. Then I’d come home and sleep. That’s the loneliest part of my childhood life. But during the day time or night time we’d have lot of fun cuz there were lots of kids playing around. But that’s when I missed my brothers and sisters.

Briefly, what was your educational background in U.S.?

Walizar or East San Pedro was the grammar school, Richard Dana Junior High School and San Pedro High School and I graduated in 1941, right before the war. After that I went to Military Intelligence Service (M.I.S.). I went in 1948 to Los Angeles Technical Junior College where I learned a trade. Actually I had a four years college education coming to me through the G.I. Bill of Rights. But I’m a “blue collar” type of guy. That’s why I learned the automotive business which is body and fender work.

While you were in Terminal Island did you go to Japanese School? Baptist Church?

Speaking of churches, we had two churches—one Buddhist and Christian, Baptist Church. But to me I like story that Miss Swanson, our teacher use to tell when we were little boys—the story of Jesus Christ. Fascinating. So I stuck to Christian, Baptist Church. Meanwhile, I was one of the first guy to be baptized. I volunteered. Cuz I feel sorry for Miss Swanson. They wanted to baptize a lot of guys but they say, “I don’t want to take a bath.” But I got baptized there.

We had two Japanese schools. One was Sokei Gakuen (Buddhist) and Seisno Gakuen (Christian). We attended two hours after school Monday through Friday but actually we weren’t too interested in learning Japanese and I wasn’t a studious guy anyway.

Some of the activities you had after school… Did you play marbles, go fishing, or what did you do?

Terminal Island many a time, you can’t beat that community of people like Terminal Island. There were so many young people running around so we organized something like the Olympic Games. Tuna Street people had their own team, Cannery Street people, Albacore Street people had another one, and Hokkaido area another team and we use to organize games. We had like Olympic games—all different types and on top of that had one of the best kendo team, a judo team and swimming team, baseball team. We took everything. It use to be J.A.U. long time ago. I don’t want to brag about it but Terminal Island we had more to pick from. That’s why we had better athlete than any other community in California. We won so many championships! You name it, we took everything. One thing we’re proud of. And when we were growing up, we use to play marbles. And Marble King was my buddy, Bill Nakasaki. He passed away. He was a champion marble player. He used to challenge everybody with dirty apron pant we use to call it. Wore no shoes and hole in trouser and walk around with full of marbles in the pocket. He use to challenge everybody and clean us all the time. That was a lot of fun. We use to play “Kick the Can,” “Lost and Found,” cowboy games and I forgot others. To me, Terminal Island was a fascinating, fantastic dreamland, I call it. “Enchanted Island” like I said before. We had everything. We could go to the mountain which is not too far; we had the ocean, all to ourselves—ocean and the beach and camping ground without any advisors. If we had advisors, we would have had more fun probably. But when I reached junior high, I joined the YMCA and that was something I never experienced. I went to Mt. Baldy camp, snow hike, Sequoia National Park trip and few other places. One thing I regret today, my mother did not let me into the Boy Scout because we had to pay $10.00 dues. I think we never had that ten bucks. Man, ten bucks. That’s why Terminal Island was real good!

At San Pedro High School, what was your major?

At San Pedro High, my major was automotive. I took industrial courses. I learned auto mechanic courses and I was a one of the hot-rod guy. I use to put in the Model A, a V 8 engine. That’s what we called a V 8 engine and we use to race in the home made racing ground at First Beach and Brighton Beach so I was interested in automotive at that time. Actually I didn’t learn too much cuz we use to fool around too much. They use to call us the “P” boys cuz teacher named us that because we use to pray a lot.

Did you participate in any High School sports?

Yes. I had Letters in three years of football and three years of track, two years of varsity swimming. I don’t want to brag but I came in last in the city final. Out of ten guys, I was the last guy. But I represented the Marine League. But we were the weakest.

I often heard you were never without spending money while going to High School. How did you earn the money?

I don’t want to go into detail because there might be a bad story in it but the good part, I worked my butt too like anybody else. We use to ditch high school and work in the cannery during flu season. You know when you get the flu, you get to stay home. So before we get to school we use to put the thermometer by the steam heater, warm it up and then put it in the mouth so the temperature went up. We use to give it to the doctor and he let us go. So when we come home, we use to work in the cannery, cutting the fish or gerring the fish duck. And we use to get twenty-five cents a can. So in one hour we made $1.00. That’s one thing. Another thing I use to skin dive off Palos Verdes and get couple of sack of abalone and sell them twenty-five cents a piece at Dominguez Hills, Lomita, Narbonne, Gardena, Torrance. All where the Japanese farmers were. So I use to go with my mother and sell abalone for twenty-five cents a piece. Then I didn’t know any rules and regulations, Fish & Games. We didn’t know what Fish & Games was. So I made my money. During the lean times, I use to come and harvest corn, lima bean, top onion at Dominguez Hills. I use to go on the bicycle with four to five guys. I would make fifty cents and come home. There was always money to be made at Terminal Island. So I always had hot-dog money, hamburger money, movie money and maybe date money sometimes and gas money.

I guess you went into fishing after high school or did you do something else?

In 1941 you graduate from high school. What are you going to do? Your father and mother are so poor you don’t get to go to college anywhere. A few guys went to college and even if they graduated, hey, them days… Discrimination. We can’t get no city job. civil service job, firemen job. You can’t work any kind of dealership—discrimination, discriminated. That’s why we all turned to be fisherman, you know. So I told my father and mother let me take a vacation after I graduate. “Hell with you. You go to work right now.” So my father got me a job the next day on the ship making a few bucks. That’s why if you had college education, today, it might help us but at that time, neh, almost impossible. Maybe out of the thirty-five guys that graduated, one went to college but he couldn’t find no job so he came back fishing. Same thing.

Do you recall the boat that you worked on?

Name of the boat. Soon as I graduated from high school, I got on boat called “Aloha.” That’s Kazuo Okuno’s boat. It was a little boat and I didn’t make any money. Then I jumped on “Naruto” mackerel scooping boat and I didn’t make too much money. So, I went on “New Bow”—Kinoshita boat and he was so-so. That boat was little small so I jumped to boat “Mari”—Kadonaka boat and I made few bucks. In 1941 I graduated and sardine season came and during the sardine season I was on the boat “Mari” from September, October, November I made the most money. The first paycheck I ever got was $500.00. Can you imagine that! Then I bought my mother a refrigerator and a stove with an oven. Then the war came so you know what happened after that.

Who was the captain of this boat? How large was the boat?

Kiyoshi Kadonaka. Boat was a seventy-footer and carried eighty tons, maybe.

What was your duties aboard this boat?

I was abakuri (means cork handler). On a net, there’s a sinker and cork. So, I handled the cork part of the net. It’s pursing the net. So that was my duty. And being an apprentice fisherman, you know, your duties included all the dirty work. Wash the dishes, clean up the boat and that’s the beginner’s duties so that’s all we did. That’s the old Issei style. That’s how they start you out.

You went directly into purse seiner fishing then?

Like I said small boat like “Aloha” and “Naruto that was not a pursing boat. That’s what you call lampara—half pursing type of boat.

Then it’s mostly pole fishing?

No, lampara means you pull by hand. You make a circle and pull by hand. Pursing mean you have a ring around on the bottom of the net and you pull the ring with the wrench and you purse the thing up. That’s the difference between the hand pulling and the purser.

During this time, what was some of the most pleasant experience on the boat as a fisherman?

I don’t know whether you call it pleasant or not pleasant, the most feeling, the good feeling you have is actually the bay fishing. Because night fishing is cold and damp and rainy time, it’s miserable fishing. Yet you had to fish. The most pleasant way of fishing was day time, fishing, looking for sardine season. We use to go the Santa Cruz, Dana Point and all the way south to La Jolla. Day fishing was sardine season and that time was the most satisfying fishing when we load up. Boy, when you load up fish, everybody works hard cuz all you see is the money in the net. There’s no lazy fisherman! Everybody has to work together and if someone screwed up, that’s it. You lose the fish. The money is slipping thru your finger. Same thing, we try to work hard and save the fish, then we load up and the coming home—that was the most sensational feeling, I should say. Cuz we know we got it made. The money. The money was there compared to these guys working on the land for $15.00 a week. Hey, I use to make $500.00 a month. That’s why there’s no comparison. That was the most pleasant feeling.

What was the most frightful fishing experience?

Before the war, the most frightful thing I experienced was when the boat, “Cleopatra” my buddy’s boat sank and we were right behind them. They ran into a reef because of the terrific fog that came to that area. At that time, we really had to slow down and you could hear the sound of the wave against the reef or big steam ship’s fog horn and actually we didn’t know where we were going. We don’t have any radar. We had nothing, modern equipment. That part was the most frightful. Otherwise, fishing wasn’t that bad. The money was there. Me, I like fishing—where the money was.

While you were fishing, what was your major catch? Tuna, sardine?

Sardine was the best fishing and we were making the money cuz it was most abundant them days. All over the island. I can’t imagine August, 1941, just before September opening season, I went to Santa Cruz Island and the whole island was surrounded by thousand and thousand tons of fish. You’ll be surprised. You call that akami—means the fish is so thick, close together that it turning water to an certain color. That’s where there’s a lot of fish. The ocean changes color. That’s the experience I look as there’s a lot of fish. That was an amazing thing I’ve seen in the ocean. So much fish in one place. Actually, we fish out sardine by 1952 and it was all gone. Sardine fishing one of the biggest industry, money making commercial fishing. There wasn’t too much tuna during those days. There was tuna but sardine was the major fishing.

Of course, it wasn’t all fishing. You had slack time when you had to do lots of work on the boat, the net and things like that too.

Actually, sardine fishing we worked from September, October, November, December and some part of January That’s five months. During the five months we could fish sardine mostly night-fishing and during September, day fishing. After that, all night fishing. When it comes to night fishing we work only three weeks cuz it’s full moon, once a week in every month. So, when the night is dark you could see the fish better due to the phosphorus in the water. When the fish swim, it makes this color in water and from the mast, you can see where the fish is. So, it was mostly night fishing. So, one week we rest and during rest time we’re working on the boat, mending the net or something. There’s always some kind of work. But at least night time you get to go out wherever you want.

That was your…

Tanoshimi like. Once a week. We look forward to that.

One week at night was your social life, then?

Right.

That’s when some guys went drinking, some guys gambling, etc?

Right, right. At evening, go see the evening girls. Remember we had dances at Terminal Island. Of course, I was only eighteen so you know I still think I’m in high school and we had a lot of high school activities too. Wrong way pillow us guys and we use to join them. That was one thing good about Terminal Island community.

Always something to do?

Always something to do. Some kind of activity. Never a dull moment.

Fishing came to an end with the start of war on December 7. What happened after that?

December 7 when I woke up, went outside, radio everything, got-dam-it, it was war. Naturally you can’t go no place. You can’t fish. All these guys who went fishing December 6, they couldn’t come in. They closed the lighthouse place. They put a net across and they couldn’t come in. All the boat who couldn’t come in. Arrested all the Issei. They took them to detention place in Saugus, California. I still remember. Saugus use to be a Boys’ Camp. They stuck them in there, you know. From December 7 we couldn’t go anyplace. Even the students were stopped then. That’s the thing—unconstitutional comes right there and of course from December 7 to February 2, 1942, we didn’t do nothing. February 2 President Franklin Roosevelt signed the Executive Order 9066. All enemy aliens that’s registered on the fishing license, they got a fishing license from the Fish & Game got arrested. Every one of them. They took us, even me, to Eagle Beach. I went too. They said, “Hey, we got a young one here!” I still remember that. “Get your coat, shoes and everything.” “It’s too hot.” “No, put your coat.” So they took us to immigration in San Pedro and I was the interpreter there. You know who was there? My friend, Jimmie Kasserov, Andy Kasserov. They asked me why the hell I’m doing there. “I’m an enemy alien.” You know, I was an interpreter too there, helping them out. One day you know what I did? I came out of the place. I said, “I’m going home.” “Oh sure, go back. Thanks a lot for helping out.” I was going out. I was sneaking out actually. You know that guy said, “Stop the guy! He don’t belong out there. He belong in here.” Ha! Ha! He caught me so I went back again so from here if I go into detail it will be a long story so I’ll stop here.

You were sent to detention camp, not relocation camp?

I don’t call it detention camp. It was a real prisoner-of-war camp cuz there were German prisoner-of-war with us guys. That’s one of the topic I said in the redress deal.

How many different camps did you go to?

Well, after I came out of North Dakota, they released me. They said I was harmless. They released me so I went to Santa Anita. From Santa Anita to Rowher, Arkansas. From Rowher, they let me out on seasonal furlough. Then I relocated to Minidoka, Topaz and Manzanar. Three camps. Of course to Jerome too. So actually five camps I went, visiting all of them.

You weren’t with your folks then?

Only in Rowher I was. When I went to camp, I’d tell them, “You guys put me out. I have no job so put me up.” So they let me stay one month or something at each camp. When I came to Manzanar, they found out that I was from Rowher and I got folks over there. They kick me out right away. I told them, “Give me at least ten days as I didn’t see my aunt and uncle in Manzanar.” So ten days, then they gave me $60.00. I didn’t have any money so with that $60 they put me out and sent me to Salt Lake City, Utah. When it get into detail, I’ll be talking forever. That’s good enough. Get the high points.

You were out of camp now and you went to Utah. Relocated?

No, I went to Kalamazoo, Michigan. I was the head bus boy, head bar tender. I was head of, head of everything over there. Of course, there was a shortage—man shortage. I use to head the parking lot too. I had a room there, a nice country, beautiful scenic place in Michigan—northern part of Michigan, you know, north-central. That was my first relocation. After that I went every place. You name it. I went to every place. All by myself. Nobody wants to go with me.

So as a hind-sight, what do you think about your life on Terminal Island?

My life on Terminal Island like I was saying, Terminal Island, even to this day everyone says, “Boy, I wish I was back in Terminal Island!” You never can find a place like Terminal Island. They all say that. Terminal Island, one, big, happy community, people help each other. One thing they talk about chief right now. We didn’t even know what thief was. You don’t have to lock your door or steal anything. You could put your bicycle anyplace, car you don’t have to lock. Man, people know each other, help each other and I don’t know helping each other but everybody know each other. Everybody was brothers and sisters. One big family, I think. You don’t find that kind of community anyplace, I think. I think this place called Hood River similar to Terminal Island. After I read about Hood River I didn’t know there was such a place existed. They don’t know where Terminal Island is. I talked to a lot of people and told them where Terminal Island is. They say where in the hell is that place. They don’t know. Now we write a lot of articles about Terminal Island so now people start finding out. That’s one good thing about Terminal Island I could say. When I went to Cleveland, I was in a room and in the next room was another Terminal Island guy. This guy he heard me talking so he banged on the wall and said, “Who is that? You’re from Terminal Island heh?” I went next door and it was Seiji Hirami. Maybe I didn’t see Terminal Island people for four or five years, maybe ten years or twenty years. There’s no invisible barrier between the Terminal Island people. If I see them fifty years from now, I feel I can just talk as though I didn’t see you for one day. That’s the difference of Terminal Island people. Feeling is there. That’s why Terminal Islanders stick together too much. They say I hear people say when we go to Las Vegas.

Before we go any further, I want to go back to your job as a fisherman. In a normal job, we get paid by the hour, or so much salary. What kind of pay did the fisherman have?

Before the war and after the war, we got the same way of getting paid. Like if there were ten men on a boat, ten men get each share. Out of ten working fishermen, you have to add three shares on the boat. Makes thirteen shares. Now add captain’s share, two shares, per share too. Boat’s owner gets six to seven shares, mast man get one and a half shares, engineer gets one and a half shares, rest of crew get one share. Add them shares all together and divide it. That’s the way it was to work before and we get paid end of the season. End of three weeks of one dark. We talk like dark moon to dark moon and lots of people did not understand us but it’s from one full moon to the next full moon. I think we were making the most money compared to any wage people working on the land – wage people. No, of course there were lean time, good time makes up for the lean time. And during the depression we never seem to suffer any. We always had food on the table. See, that’s the amazing part. When I was in Chicago, we had soup plant. We were eating all the time and we didn’t know what the depression was. We’re lucky.

We’re going forward. You came out of camp and said you went to Kalamazoo. When you return west again did you go back to fishing or what did you do?

No, I went traveling all over. There’s a lot of details but jumping from my first relocation, I traveled all over the country. I went into the service. Two years, mostly at Monterey Presidio (M.I.S.).

What was your duties there?

After I finished the school, I couldn’t go. I had to sign up one more year—extension. You had to have eleven months oversea duties or you can’t go. You had to extend one more month. Then you got to go. So that General asked, “Mr. Hamasaki, you want to go to Japan? You can stay one more year.” One more year! One more year seemed a long time. I didn’t sign up. I told the Lt. Colonel, “See all those fishing boat. My father won’t fight from Southern California. I’m going to fish after I get discharged from the service.” That was in 1948. Then I came to Los Angeles. I got the traveling money. I came from Chicago as I was inducted from Chicago at Fort Sheridan. Then I came here for my basic training at Fort Ord, then to Presidio. Then after I graduated. Then I was the head of that thing over there. The sport arena. [Unable to read name] was one of my helper there. The football player.

This was at the Presidio?

Yes, it was at the Presidio. Man I had a good job there. Man, I didn’t do nothing over there. Cuz I was in a special team, swimming and boxing. I did in M.I.S. Travel all over.

At that time you trained for the Olympic, didn’t you?

Yeah, I represented the Sixth Army in swimming. The first heat, the college guys were too good. Too good, man. That first place they chop me the trophy there.

You’re out of the army now. I hear you had quite an experience fishing in South America.

Boy, South America!

They claim that’s the highlight of your life.

Yeah, I guess you could call it that.

Give us some of the highlights there.

To me, I traveled all the way from Mexico to Guatemala to El Salvador to Honduras to Nicaragua to Costa Rica to Panama to Columbia, Equador and Peru. I went that far all the way up and down for four years, fishing. You know where is the most fascinating country? Costa Rica. Nice, clean, people are friendly. The people and Costa Rica are well known among the Central America nations cuz they don’t have any graft and they do not have revolution and stuff like that.

Costa Rica was one of the best country in Central America. The home port was Puntarenas. That’s the place you know Van Camp Company, Chicken of the Sea. They had cannery over there. There was our home port. So all of the neighbors went to fish the country up and down all the way to Panama to maybe Nicaragua, that area. We use to unload in Costa Rica but otherwise, some other place we set in the Grace Line. You know the Banana boat that goes down the coast. They stop at Panama. They have refrigeration so whatever we catch in Peru or Equador or Columbia we use to come to Panama and wait for the ship. We use to unload the fish and then go out. The most experiencing thing is the crisis at the Church of Cartago and (coca cinder deal?). Those things they have history. Cococinder got big history about the Morgan, the pirate burning the church in Panama and the Panamanians Indians painted the wall all black. They painted that wall. And underneath was pure gold wall. The Church of Panama. That’s the number one church in the whole Western Hemisphere. And the second one, third one is in Mexico and one in Costa Rica. Costa Rica church that’s where the angel suppose to be sitting on the rock. They saw the image of the angel and that’s where they built the Church of Cartago and put the gold. They made a Madonna out of that angel. That Madonna was worth $1 million. It had all the emeralds, jewels and everything. These guys from the United States, New York, I heard they stole that thing. They stole that darn thing. Sold that thing. I was sleeping on the boat and I heard all the noise. Went outside and asked what happened. The whole country is closed. They closed the whole country, business and all. You know what these people did? They all donated their money to the church to make this new thing. And every different part of the country they had their own flag—own town flag. They got their thing, march up that hill to the Church Cartago. They walked. From Costa Rica. From Puntarenas. San Jose is the capital. How many miles from San Jose? I don’t know. Some people walked two days but you can reach over there, you know. I could see from the airplane, I needed to fly. You can go up and come down as Costa Rica is a small country. You should have seen the people. Then I went to the church, under the church, downstair. People go there just like the Japan’s Kan no san—the smoke thing. They’re doing the same thing, washing their feet, injured place, everywhere. I asked what they were doing. They explain it to me it’s the healing power. That one of the thing I bet most of the guys have never seen a real church. A real church like St. Paul, something like that. It’s amazing! It’s beautiful! That’s the first time I saw a church. That’s where the Father ordained my St. Christopher. I still have the St. Christopher. You know what a St. Christopher is? It’s Sea God. Protects the fisherman. I still got it.

You know, I read this article about your trip to Central America in the Rafu Shimpo. I think you talked a lot about the young kids, didn’t you?

You befriend the kids. I always tell everyone. Treat the young kids good. They always remember you. You know, if you treat the young kids well, they can’t forget you. Maybe if some one was generous to you when you were little, you gonna never forget that guy. You know all these poor guys around here when they say, “Give me a quarter” I always give them a quarter or something but I always say, “Remember I’m a Japanese and I’m giving you this. When you get to be a mayor or governor, remember I gave you this. Will you?” “Oh yes, man. Yeah, yeah, yeah!” I still got the image. I still remember those things. When you treat a guy like Togi. Togi treated me real good. He came on that kinda ship over here on the “Kantai,” training ship from Japan. He became captain of the ship, training vessel. He told me. Saburo Kuramoto say they called him up and he went to meet him and he was the captain of the vessel already. That’s why I say always treat these small, little kids good. I did. You know, I rent an apartment. I sleep over there ten days. This was forty-five years ago I’m talking about. Everything cheap then. Americans are rich so I use to have an apartment to live with somebody. Everytime I come be sure nobody is in there but I let all these poor kids sleep there. Shoeshine boys. I had about a dozen shoeshine boys with me. Everytime they run an errand for me, “Are you hungry?” I use to feed them arroz con pollo. That’s steak, number one steak in Costa Rica. It was cheap though, twenty-five cents. Arroz con pollo. That’s the country’s most popular food. I didn’t know what it was before. When you go to a foreign country, you don’t want to eat nothing. I drink nothing, especially water that kind of place. I always use to drink juice over there so did these little boys. I treat them good. Few of them came to this country. They look me up. Yeah, they came. They still remember. Oh, that was the most amazing thing and they brought me fish. Yeah, they brought me fish and I had the other old lady, heh. The black guy in the harpu(?). Who is that guy who brought the fish? It can’t be that guy I was thinking. By golly, it was that guy! “What the heck are you doing in America?” He was a helper on the boat and was ten or eleven years old and use to wash dishes on our boat. Our captain was a good guy too. He hired those guys to come help every time we needed to feed them all the time—errand boys. We lived in Puntarenas for two months without working, know. I felt like a native over there. That’s why I got to know everybody over there. That’s why before the war, they had four fishing fleets over there, boats from Japan. The Japanese treat the natives good. Not like the shinajins (Chinese). They’re clannish. Japanese fisherman married too and had little kids growing too. Call Hiroshi, Kiyoshi, they come. “Yeah, here’s $1. Go buy something.” One dollar means twelve colon so you get to eat for one week—eat good. Everything was real cheap. Mexico was ten peso to $1. Here twelve colon to $1. You could buy a lot of stuff. I use to bring home bunch of alligator purse and perfumes. I use to go to Panama and free-duty port over there and I use to bring all kinds of things over here. Cheap like hell, everything. That was the good part of it. That’s why I know the whole town. I had all kinds of kids following me around. That’s why they never worked.

Well, that’s one of your highlight then?

I don’t know if you call them highlight but I had lots of fun in that town though. I never had that kind of fun. You know, money talks and I was young. That’s why when you’re old and have money, it’s a different kind of fun again. But when you’re young and have money, baby, you got the town by the finger, man! You can do anything. You even know the mayor and the chief-of-police over there. That’s why you can do anything and get away. Hey, man I never saw any place like that.

You were famous there. Now you were also famous, I guess when the Congressional Committee was here listening to the redress. I heard you were one of the “star” person that testified in front of the Congressional Committee. Give us a little bit of that.

Actually, everybody, you know, were you at the Terminal Island meeting at University Avenue when the Long Beach guy came?

No.

You weren’t there. University of Long Beach, UCLA and USC. They came to me and say, “We need a guy like you.” “Okay” I don’t give a damn. I say, “What do you want me to say? I’ll say anything if you want me to say anything.” They say, “No, we’ll write you something so this is the way you say it at the redress.” This is the redress time now, you know. I went through a lot of stuff. This and that, too much trouble. You gonna end up this and that everything. “How is it going to be?” I told them.

When the time came five at a time we go redress time. And five guys sit in front. One guy finish, then another bunch come and like that. By the time I came on, they gave me the paper to read. I look at it. What the hell is this darn thing I’m saying. One of them, I forgot her name, Sue Embrey, I think said, “Read this.” “Nah. I told you what I’m going to do. I told you guys I’m going to say whatever I want to say, not what you guys want to say.” “Sure?” “Sure. If you don’t like it whatever I want to say why did you call me over up here for?” So when they call my name, you’re suppose to sit down and talk but I like to stand up and talk. I don’t know why. That’s my habit. You know what I did? The committee keep on hearing the same old story, repetitious thing. They’re tired of this thing. “Hey!” I went like this. “Hey!” I went like this. They all jump up like that. Then I put my punch line, “Unconstitutional!” I told them. “Why?” That guy said. Then I went to the story what happened—cruelty to the people, no trial, you get arrested. So I went through all that thing. If I get into detail the story will be long. That’s why I explained it to them all what was wrong. One thing I said that nobody said. Hayakawa was there. I told Mr. Hayakawa, he’s a semanticist. He know how to talk and this and that but he’s not an American citizen and he’s a Canadian. Now that Canadian man got lots of money and everything. But he don’t know the experience that we went through. So if we get $25,000 it’ll be a shame to collect $25,000 from the government. You know what I told him that time? He say, but I say all the audience listening over here are probably going to agree with me because when you put $25,000 cash here and when you take the Japanese pride and put pride over here, Japanese people pride, which will we grab first? One thing I say, other thing is irrelevant but naturally if I was me or you, I’ll take the twenty-five grand and hell with the pride. P R I D E. To hell with it. I put it down. I take the money. All the hardship and trauma we went through we’ll take the money. I say to everybody. I told them that and other things the people didn’t say nothing. There’s other kind of things I said but then I put down the only white lady, the one that fight against the redress, Lillian Baker. I told her. You know what I say about Baker? “Baker, you’re a faker.”

From Washington D.C. they sent me the whole testimony—paper. I still got it somewhere in the house. And when they went to the Washington thing, M.I.S. guy they all went to the Smithsonian Institute, they got all the stuff over there. Remember Minoru Hara? He sent me the whole thing again. Did you see that? So what? He always write letters that guy and send me that kind of thing. Redress time. And then Mr. ______ asked me what I wanted is $25,000. I said, “No. I want $50,000 for what I went through.” Everybody woke up though by that time. I was making all kind of noise. I was yelling and I was like that. I told you I was going to express my feelings. But you know what I found out after that? I got hate letter. These guys they’re smart. They send hate letter to this house. They want me to bitch and cry to the JACL or redress committee and Rafu Shimpo. See, they try to do that, I know. I told these guy, “Hey, see what I told you guys. This kind of thing is going to happen?” Sure enough it happened. See, I knew it already before I went. If you testify strongly, then you’ll get hate letter. I got three of them. “Freedom Avenue” one of them said. “If you don’t like the country, go back where you come from.” That kind of thing they wrote. Yeah man, I knew it. You know what another thing. F.B.I. was on my tail. Did you know that? I never told this to anybody. F.B.I. Do you know what the F.B.I. do? At work they call me, “Are you Charlie Hamasaki?” “Yeah, what do you want?” They didn’t say F.B.I. “We like to make a movie about a person that is Japanese background and these two girls coming back from the East and they want to join you but they get raped or get into certain kind of trouble so that’s why you’re going to be in that thing.” I went couple of times you know to interview. They take me out to dinner and everything and go to the house and talk about the movie script and that. You know what I start thinking? These guys are bull-shitting me. I know. These kinda movie thing or he’s from Canada or he’s from New York, they’re telling me but they said, “Bring a picture of you.” What are you going to do with the picture? Where are you doing something. So they want this is me. Shinnenkai song I was singing, that kind. I sent it to you.

They were testing me out. Yeah, I went through the whole script just The Karate Kid. That was the same plot it was. Amazing, man, I didn’t tell anybody that because nobody is going to believe me. I went to high-tone restaurant with them too. These three guys. They came to check me out—whether I was an activist or not. See, they came to check me out and because I did that some guy say, “We need a guy like you. Why don’t you come work for us?” They told me that. I didn’t get mad. What the hell did I want to get involved for? Like I said from the beginning this is the way it’s going to be and it got that way. These college students guys smart in books and stuff like that but they’re not smart in street language. That’s the difference between the college guy and me. Yeah, that’s a lot of difference. Experience it, everything in life. So you meet all different kind of people. You learn a lot of darn things. So you gotta know who to talk to smart people, mediocre people and bums. You know you have to be versatile.

What eventually came from the script they were trying?

That was it. They found out I was a regular guy. That’s what I thought. And that was it. They forgot and dropped everything. After that I never heard from them. They just drop “Bump,” just like that. “I don’t want to disrupt your family life and work and everything.” They start talking like that. To me it was bull-shit. It was a check up. You remember, sure, movie star, Hula Hula and dumb goddamn, what do you think I am! Those young punks, they think I don’t know nothing. If you lead certain type of life you find out about these things. A guy who is in too much books they’re the most dumbest guy. They’re smart in book only. They’re not knowledgeable in lot of things. That’s why I’m glad I fool around here and there and everywhere and learned a lot of thing, good things and bad things. You gotta learn the bad thing then you know what’s good and bad. No sense learning everything good. You gotta learn the bad things too. That’s why oya baka comes out.

So even from Terminal Island after you left Terminal Island you had quite a colorful life, heh?

To me, I tell you. I always tell everybody I don’t care if I die because I led a ten men’s life. I tell them. You know, I led a ten men’s life so I think I did everything possible that I want to do. But I want to see the world one time. I was thinking the older you get you don’t wanna go no place. That’s why I was lucky I did everything myself without anybody coming with me. That’s one thing I regret. I didn’t have no partner to go around every place. I did everything by myself. No body wanted to do anything. They were scared, especially during the war time. They don’t want to go no place. But I remember when I was in Bismark, North Dakota, one old man told me, “When you’re young, do everything possible.” He said. “Or you’ll never regret it if you do everything. And when you get old and if you didn’t do it, then you’ll never know what was good.” It’s too late already. That why my philosophy in life, have fun and do anything you want. That way you won’t regret it afterwards. With experience, I think. I don’t regret nothing. Man, that’s why I’m satisfied today. I’m real satisfied I did, even if I’m not rich or anything. Yeah, sometimes I don’t envy these rich guys. You know I envy, but I envy myself. You do everything you want then you’re free. You’re never tied down. Lots of guys are tied down, one chain is tied down to the house. Lots of guys like that. Real free, yeah, do anything, enjoy your life. One guy told me when you’re dead you be dead for eons. Thousands and thousands of years, you know. When you’re alive you got only thirty years of good time. Its even the thirty years is kinda too long. Cuz up to ten years old you don’t know nothing. From ten to maybe thirty years, you enjoy a little bit. From thirty to forty you enjoy the most. So enjoy the most. Cuz when you’re dead, you’re dead for a thousand year. So out of all this million year this world existed, heh, what’s twenty years of your life? That’s a real short boot. Just a snap on your finger and your life is gone. So you gotta squash everything into this years that’s most important thing, I think. My mom use to say that. That’s why I try to put everything inside. Man, there’s a lot of bad thing involved too. But there’s a lot of good things involved too. If I say about the bad thing, the story grow more. Exciting things I should say.

Well, you got anything to add on about the state Terminal Island or your life? You gave us a lot of your…

Number one. I love Terminal Island. Lots of other guys do too. Lot of guys my age or maybe five years younger than I am or five to ten years older. That’s the center nucleus of the Terminal Island life. That’s the guy that really know Terminal Island not the guys that was ten years below cuz they don’t have too much to talk about. They don’t have lots of things cuz they see just their family. Like us guys we know we live over there nineteen years so we just remember maybe fifteen years of Terminal Island which is real short but Terminal Island people still, we even today, stick together. Amazing parr of thing.

We don’t seem to have the trouble in our organization. That’s why I think, we get along real good. Whenever we have problem we gotta speak up. Cuz I remember one time we had a meeting at Kyoto Sukiyaki and I was telling those guys, “Hey, you guys community this and that you’re getting something but you know, what’s going to happen. You gotta get a lawyer afterward. Because you got few technical kinda things.” Sure enough it happened.

When you collect money here and there where is the money going to go? You gotta put it in the bank and take that tax thing and all that. That’s the way it got. I told them. This was long time ago. See, I think about those thing. Terminal Island, I’m glad we had these guys who put all their effort into Terminal Island organization. If it wasn’t for these guys, it would be nothing.

Pretty soon everything’s going to die away. Eventually, it’s going to die away. Eventually. Cuz these other Sansei and Yonsei they aren’t going to take interest. Cuz we gotta have something left over, for to talk about. “Once upon a time there was a community like Terminal Island” We won’t let it die. Just simply just die. We gotta leave some legacy or thing like that.

That’s the thing. Even today I say, all these Terminal Islanders when I married first time I took my wife over there. “This is the place where I grew up—almost born and raised” and I took my present wife over there too. I’m not the only one that’s doing that. There’s whole bunch of other guys doing that same thing. Nostalgia. They just go and just look around, smell the smelly air or whatever, which got lots of vitamin cuz it comes from fish smell—vitamin E.

I say lots of time the air. The air is not smog air. It’s vitamin air coming from the fish smell. But that was one good community.

Even today the old Issei that’s left over, “Gee, nothing like Terminal Island.” They all say that. They all say that. There gotta be some meaning to that. Even today, they all think like that. What the hell.

Well, I’m glad actually there was a war cuz if it wasn’t for the war, we’d still probably live in Terminal Island maybe, leading a simple life. Now we’re more educated. We know what the hell outside look like now. If it wasn’t for the war, you would have never made your life. You would have never met her.

Look at all these Imperial Valley guys. They had to live in a hot place in Imperial Valley. Do you think they want to go back? Nah. No because of the war, we have reunions, we have parties and things like that. If it wasn’t for the war, it’ll be boring. See, we don’t have this redress.

This war became for all different people to mingle and know each other and find out about each other—from Washington all the way to Arizona. So actually the war did the Japanese American a great favor. That’s what I say one time when I made a speech at Cultural Center. I told in front of lots of people what the war meant.

Now getting back to Terminal Island, I had lots of people fascinated by Terminal Island that they had a place like that. They can’t believe it. All my neighbors from all different place, they don’t know. That’s why Terminal Island people got lots of friends.

You gotta treasure your friends. Even you got your brothers and sisters but your friends are real important too, you know. If you have no friend, you’re a lost soul.

Even after sixty years, heh?

Sure. Sixty years of friends. They tell me to join this club, that club around our neighborhood. Be friendly with your neighbor and go out with your neighbor and do a lot of things with them. Hey, if I do that I don’t got any time for my other friends.

So that’s why I’m just sociable with my neighbor and around Seinan community. But actually whenever Terminal Island get together or something, that’s number one on my list. My agenda number one is Terminal Island activity. That’s one thing. I’m not the only one that feel that way. Lots of guys feel that way—just like me. Of course everybody not like me. There’s few once-in-a-while kind. Some ninety percent they don’t come. Some of them one hundred percent don’t want to mingle no more. Too much trouble for them.

Actually deep in their soul, I bet, one of these day they’re going to say, “I’m going to come to the picnic or thing like that to meet my old friends.” And few of them are doing that. That’s the difference.

They still want to remember their childhood. They still want to remember their childhood. That’s why when they see their old friends, they get tears in their eyes. I know cuz I can tell by looking. They’re happy. They’re happy.

They have to treasure that one thing. It’s amazing. It’s not friends you made couple of years ago and this friendship have to treasure for the rest of your life kind. It follows you any place. That’s how it is.

That’s why you can talk to Terminal Islanders. You go cut them down or anything, they don’t get mad. You talk like this to somebody you just met, they don’t speak to you until you die.

That’s what I call Terminal Islander. The real Terminal Islander. Whoever listening to this thing, it’s coming from the bottom of my heart.

O.K. Charlie, that was wonderful! Charlie was known as, I guess, one of the most colorful character, I shouldn’t say character but personality that came out of Terminal Island. And as Japanese would say, he’s like a green bamboo.

When you split a green bamboo, it splits right down the center, straight and that’s what our friend here is—a straight person that doesn’t hold anything back, with a golden heart. Thank you!

That’s a compliment.

As an after thought, Charlie has one to two more items he wants to put into this tape.

Listening to my, I don’t call it essay, anything like that. Listening to my interview, a lot of people gotta think what kind of English is this guy talking about. He got an education from kindergarten all the way to Technical Junior College, I went to Los Angeles Technical. That’s me.

This guy’s English—what kind of English is this? He sounds like a Kibei, sounds maybe Hawaiian, a Japanese but he got certain kind of accent. Well, let me tell you from the basic standpoint.

The thing is, the school was ninety-nine percent Japanese and one percent Caucasian so we all talk Japanese until the sixth grade. We talk nothing but Japanese. This Russian-Caucasian they knew only how to talk Russian and Japanese. They were fluent in Japanese.

When we went to junior high school, we all got taken into this auditorium. You know, what the teacher says, “Since you’re here in San Pedro Junior High School you all have to learn how to talk English.” That’s how bad we were.

See that’s where my English came out. Out of this Japanese accent, a certain type of Japanese accent, we turn into English. That’s why there’s certain English accent have Japanese accent or Terminal Island accent I should say.

So when we went to camp, lot of Nisei young girls and guys say, “Look at all the Kibei group.” That was us. They thought we was educated in Japan. Came just up the boat. No, I tell them.

I explained to few people but I been explaining it over and over. I got tired of explaining so I finally say, “We’re all Kibei.” We told them. Then they understood. But actually, we weren’t.

The way we talk it’s similar to each other but one or few of them talk pretty good but most of them talk like me. Maybe a little bit better.

That’s a point I want to say because of this interview you might think this guy is from Japan. He don’t know nothing. That’s the way. So I hope you people understand, whoever listens. Thank you!

Note: Charles Oihe Hamasaki passed away peacefully on Thursday, August 30th at the age of 95.

The post The Boisterous Charlie O. Hamasaki appeared first on Traveling Boy.

Spring Cleaning

If you don’t want to ponder, move on to the Jokes.

Spring isn’t due till later next month but I’ve been thinking about cleaning up our garage already. I confess that I’ve got pack rat in my DNA. I come from a family of Philippine pack rats. My grandmother owned a warehouse located a few blocks away from our home that was full of junk. She collected different colored wine and medicine bottles — red, cobalt, green and violet. There were rows of old leather shoes, boxes of Perla laundry bar soap, Camay body soap and stacks of old newspaper. To add to her addiction, she even ran a pawn shop littered with typewriters, accordions, xylophones, adding machines – just stuff! When you realize that she survived the ravages of the Spanish-American war and the Japanese occupation, it all makes sense.

She was so thrifty that whenever anyone needed a new pair of slippers, she would repurpose old shoes — cut their sides and turn them into sandals. She even collected balls of string and wire that she picked up while walking in the street.

THE FIRE
My Mom woke us up in the middle of the night: “Wake up! Hurry! There’s a fire!” Half asleep and wearing our pajamas, we walked a few blocks away to our cousin’s house where we watched the flames rise high into the night. We had to close the windows because of the overpowering stench of smoke, burning wood and plastic. I could hear and see people who were like bees bustling about in a beehive — men were directing the exodus while others carried away their life possessions in boxes and bags. We could hear the sirens of the fire truck and the crackling sparks of the giant bonfire. It was a nightmare.

Come daylight, we were told that grandma’s ancestral Spanish-era home burned down to a crisp. Along with it burned her precious warehouse. Fortunately, no one was hurt. Sorting through the smouldering pile of ashes, I dug up her melted bottle collections. Surprisingly, some of the soap survived. Many were half burned. I remember washing my hands with half-sized bar soaps because grandma (true to form) cut out the burned portions and saved the good halves. She never rebuilt that warehouse … she started buying property instead.

WORLDLY POSSESSIONS
We all know that we can’t take our stuff with us when we die but, comparing the pile of stuff collected in our garage and my grandmother’s warehouse, I can see the same pattern rekindled: In my garage, I see piles of old artwork, favorite VHS tapes my kids grew up with … my kids’ toys, my son’s basketballs and volleyballs, board games and drawers of business paperwork. How do I sort these out? Where do I draw the line between heirloom and fire-hazard junk? I have no inspired solutions. Do you?

In her website, clutter expert, Marie Kondo, offers a “simple but effective organizing system that uses a transformative criterion: choosing what sparks joy; with her method, (she claims) you will learn to listen to your inner voice and make space for the life you want.” Hmmm….

I guess I have some heavy reading and belly button meditation to do. In the meantime, here’s a song written by Jim Webb and sung by Amy Grant. It’s called “If These Walls Could Speak.” The song explains my thoughts when I part with my sentimental clutter. This is why it’s hard for me. Like my grandmother, I too grew up with very humble beginnings.

Here are the first few verses of the song:

VERSE 1
If these old walls
If these old walls could speak
Of things that they remembered well
Stories and faces dearly held
A couple in love
Livin’ week to week
Rooms full of laughter
If these walls could speak

VERSE 2
If these old halls
If hallowed halls could talk
These would have a tale to tell
Of sun goin’ down and dinner bell
And children playing at hide and seek
From floor to rafter
If these halls could speak

CHORUS
They would tell you that I’m sorry
For bein’ cold and blind and weak
They would tell you that it’s only
That I have a stubborn streak
If these walls could speak

TGIF People!

If you like my emails, please do me a favor and spread them around. Thank you!

Mailchimp has been tampering with my email database so you might get cut off. If that ever happens, you can find me in travelingboy and resubscribe.

Quotes of the Week

“Treasure your relationships, not your possessions.”— Anthony J. D’Angelo

“I hadn’t thought that I was generally a pack rat, but it turns out I am.”— Joan Didion

“There’s not a platinum record hanging in my house anywhere. It doesn’t exist here. I’m over it. They’re all in the garage, wrapped up in bubblewrap.” — Jon Bon Jovi

“And He said to them, ‘Take heed and beware of covetousness, for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of the things he possesses.'” — Luke 12:15

“Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal; but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” — Matthew 6:19-21

Joke of the Week

Thanks to Sharon of Oakland, California.

Parting Shots

Thanks to James of Los Angeles, CA

Thanks to Barbara of Pasadena, CA

Thanks to Donna of Whittier, CA

Thanks to Jennifer of Los Angeles, CA

Thanks to Fred of Long Beach, CA

Thanks to Bev of Pasadena, CA

Thanks to Norm of Encino, CA

Thanks to Art of Sierra Madre, CA

I found these:

My good friend (and jokester) Terry and I came up with these.

Got any good jokes? Come share it with rest of us!
Know someone who enjoys a laugh? Share this website.

SUBSCRIBE

The post Bold Claim appeared first on Traveling Boy.

Vietnam is a captivating country where ancient natural wonders blend seamlessly with vibrant urban energy and a remarkable story of resilience.

One of its most iconic natural features is the stunning limestone islands of Hạ Long Bay, a UNESCO World Heritage Site in the northeast. These thousands of dramatic, stand-alone karst formations—rising dramatically from emerald waters like ancient stone sentinels—are the result of millions of years of geological processes. Topped with lush vegetation and often hollowed into vast caves, they create a surreal seascape that feels otherworldly.

In the bustling cities, vibrant marketplaces pulse with life and draw crowds with endless stalls selling everything from fresh produce and spices to clothing, souvenirs, and handicrafts. Vendors’ calls mix with the aromas of exotic fruits and grilled meats, offering a sensory immersion into daily Vietnamese commerce. One interesting  practice was streets of similar shops, e.g., meat grinder street, electronics street, produce street. Not sure if that’s a Communist practice or something else.

No visit is complete without sampling the legendary street food, a highlight of Vietnam’s culinary scene. Favorites include steaming bowls of phở (aromatic noodle soup with beef or chicken), crispy bánh mì sandwiches layered with pâté, pickled vegetables, and herbs, fresh gỏi cuốn (spring rolls), and smoky grilled bun cha (pork patties with noodles). Eaten at roadside stalls or tiny plastic tables, these affordable, flavorful dishes showcase the balance of fresh herbs, bold spices, and comforting broths that define Vietnamese cuisine.

Adding to the dynamic atmosphere are the many motorcycles that dominate the streets, especially in Hanoi. Millions of scooters weave through traffic in an organized chaos—horns beeping, riders balancing impossible loads—creating a symphony of motion that has become synonymous with urban Vietnam. They offer an affordable, nimble way to navigate the cities, turning rush hour into a mesmerizing ballet on two wheels.

Hanoi and Ha Long Bay are beautiful places to visit, to learn, and to experience. This culture, held onto tightly, yet influenced by French missionaries and colonialism and the American War years, is welcoming and thriving. The path of history is evident just walking down the streets. Rows of long skinny, cluttered shops are broken by colonial style civic buildings, temples, and stark, 70s style office buildings. The ever present shade trees speak to the natural wonders experienced more on the drive to Ha Long Bay. The stunning visuals and calm waters there are a welcome respite after the bustle of the city. North Vietnam is one of the best places to experience the ingenuity and resilience of a people and the glory of creation.

Vietnam invites travelers to experience its contrasts: serene natural beauty, chaotic urban vitality, mouthwatering flavors, and an unbreakable spirit of renewal.

The post Vietnam: Fifty Years After the War appeared first on Traveling Boy.

ANSWER: In the South of France, the French play petanque. In the winter in the alps, many families go on holiday, especially in March, to ski and snowshoe. And the French enjoy the “art de vivre” [art of living], relax, cook, eat, spend time with family and drink wonderful French wine!

Photos courtesy: ATOUT FRANCE – France Tourism Development Agency

Photos courtesy: ATOUT FRANCE – France Tourism Development Agency

2. What’s one thing the public probably does NOT know about France?

ANSWER: That France is the size of Texas. France has 22 regions and 88 departments, and that a region could be compared to a state and a department to a county in our US system.

Photos courtesy: ATOUT FRANCE – France Tourism Development Agency

3. Share some aspect of France as regards to what it has contributed to the world.

ANSWER: The X- ray, the moving pictures, and hot air balloons were all invented in France by French citizens.

The post What We Didn’t Know About France appeared first on Traveling Boy.

Story and photos by guest writers Scott Green, Kim Green and friends.

Thirty-one missionaries serving in South East Asia came to this spot for this annual conference. These dedicated individuals deserve immense appreciation for leaving behind the comforts and conveniences of their home countries—often easier lifestyles with stable routines, familiar communities, and modern amenities—to venture into Asia and spread the gospel. Their selflessness in facing cultural adjustments, language barriers, and sometimes challenging living conditions truly inspires us, as they commit to sharing faith and hope in regions far from their own.

Our main job was to create a program, organize and take care of the young missionary kids while their parents attended their grown-up meetings. We called this project the Banyan Tree Kids.

This set of kids posed unique challenges because many of them came from inter-racial missionary parents so their perspectives were different from the locals. The kids knew each other and treated each other as cousins so it was like we were part of a family reunion. In retrospect, a teaching team of four would have been ideal. To say that we were blessed by their eager energy and innocence is an understatement. We learned so much about full time missionary life and being a child of a missionary. What beautiful people.

The weather was balmy. Unlike the big cities like Bangkok, the coastal compound we stayed in was clean, secure, orderly, and beautiful. Beyond our serene retreat, Thailand offers an incredible array of attractions that make it a dream destination for travelers. From the bustling streets of Bangkok, home to iconic sites like the Grand Palace and the Reclining Buddha at Wat Pho, to the northern charm of Chiang Mai with its ancient temples and vibrant night markets, the country blends rich history and modern energy. Nature lovers can explore stunning national parks like Khao Sok, where lush rainforests, waterfalls, and wildlife await, or island-hop along the Andaman Sea to pristine beaches in Phuket, Krabi, or Koh Samui for scuba diving, snorkeling, and crystal-clear waters. Cultural experiences abound, such as visiting historical ruins in Ayutthaya or joining lively festivals that showcase Thai traditions.

The food was glorious. We had never seen so many rice dishes, but Thailand’s culinary scene extends far beyond that—think spicy street food like Pad Thai, Tom Yum soup, and fresh tropical fruits from bustling markets like Chatuchak Weekend Market in Bangkok.

If you ever plan to visit Thailand, it would be nice to have a guide but you can discover things by yourself. The residents are used to tourists. It’s safe. The people are welcoming, known for their warm hospitality and smiles that make every interaction feel genuine. Whether you’re seeking adventure through ethical elephant sanctuaries, relaxing on powdery sands, or immersing in spiritual sites, Thailand truly has something for every type of traveler.

There was something deeper and special bonding with these families. Inspired by this adventure, we are pondering an India tour to visit the multiple missionaries we know there.

“He said to them, “Go into all the world and preach the gospel to all creation.”

— Mark 16:15

The post A Week-Long Mission Trip to Thailand appeared first on Traveling Boy.