Friends and Family

What's Hawaii got that American Samoa doesn't? Well, for starters: Costco, Ross, Old Navy, Walmart, Mac Store, Ala Moana Shopping Center, Safeway, Borders, Foodland, Matsumotos, Savers, Longs Drugs, Ted's Bakery, MeKong Thai's "Evil Jungle Prince", etc....

But most importantly, Hawaii has these folks that we love so much.

Israel slaved over Ella's gourmet birthday cheesecake.

Isn't Carly sweet?

Adam and Israel warm up for beach sumo wrestling

Ladies Night at Casablanca

Bad photos. Great meal. Best company.

On one of our last nights in Hawaii we indulged in a nice evening at a Moroccan place in Kailua. Tailee is an irreplaceable face at Pammy's, Cailin is my sister in law (Israel's wife), Mariko is basically another sister in law (Jake's wife), and Robbie is my for reals sister in law (Ephraim's sister). Mariko did a better job of explaining our evening at Casablanca.

But I'll just add that maybe the only good thing about us not living in Hawaii is that I would want to do this every night. (Would that be so bad?)

Aloha 'Oe!

The reason for no posts lately is that we've been on vacation. If you live in paradise, where do you go on vacation? Well, the only domestic flight from here goes to Hawaii. So that's where we've been for the last month. Actually Ephraim had to go for business, so we tagged along and made it a family vacation.

We stayed a few days on University of Hawaii campus, but most of the time we stayed at Pammy's house in lovely Laie.

Moments at Waimea

Fun on the trampoline
Cruisin at the Seasider
TVA park with Cailin, Keahi, and Jarom

Robbie brought over the Wii so we could see who's the real Guitar Hero.
Getting our tie-dye fix

Is it any wonder that we love Hawaii?

My Mom

Today's my oldest sisters Shellie's birthday. She carried the burden of "breaking in" my parents. Much like I feel Ella breaking us in on a daily basis. I hope Ella can turn out as wonderful as Shellie. I could also hope to turn out as wonderful as my mom, but that is way impossible.

In the (belated) spirit of Mothers Day and my siblings, I wanted to post a tribute written about my mom by my sister Jill.

My mom is amazing.

She’s not on t.v., running marathons, or holding public office, but she is amazing.

If you know Ann Fillmore, then you already know what I’m talking about. If you’re not lucky enough to have met her, you’ll just have to take my word for it.

My mom started out as a shy dark-haired girl in Salt Lake who wore her sister’s hand-me downs and played the cello. Her mom died when she was only 12, but she persevered and blossomed as a young woman. She went on to become a camp counselor, a BYU student, an elementary school teacher, and a wife, marrying Bruce Fillmore almost 37 years ago. When my older sister was born, Mom finished up the school year and then took a break from teaching, at least the teaching that brings in a paycheck. I was her second daughter, and seven more daughters joined the family, followed by a son.

My mom changed over 30 years worth of diapers, almost half of them the old fashioned cloth kind. Beyond the necessary labors of running a household, my mom also taught tole painting lessons, typed up roadshows and skits for girls camp, kept a large garden running, canned produce--sometimes with little helpers but often alone, cut and painted wooden crafts, cared for a daughter with a disability, made a half-dozen teacher gifts each May, and sewed Halloween costumes each fall. She served in just about every stake and ward Relief Society, Young Women, and Primary calling along the way, frequently while my dad was the Bishop or in the Bishopric. For a relaxing break, she would go to girl’s camp or lead us all on cross-country vacations from Pennsylvania to Utah in a big brown Chevy van.

Sometimes I describe my mom as having a great big spring inside her that is always wound up, going the extra mile full steam ahead when others, including her children, would rather stop and rest or give less than our best efforts.

My mom is truly amazing. It’s easy to glorify her “supermom” status and all of her considerable talents. Most amazing, however, is that she is neither proud nor preachy about her own greatness. My mom is certainly not perfect, but she loves with her whole heart. She genuinely relishes the opportunity to be of service to others, and she is quick to deflect attention or praise away from herself.

I know we’re not supposed to compare ourselves to other people, but in my case it’s pretty unavoidable. So does a daughter or son go about “measuring up” to such an example? First of all, it’s impossible, so I know if I’m not as amazing as she is, that’s okay! Second of all, she’s had a big head start on me or any of my siblings, so I can take comfort that I have a long time to keep trying. And third, she blessed the world with ten children, so we can divvy up the responsibility of following in her footsteps.

As I look at my siblings in their adult metamorphoses, I see all of my mom’s qualities and talents spread out like strands of a bracelet. This is just a superficial list, but Shellie is the master organizer, and very crafty. I studied teaching in college. Katie has written skits and has given her children the gift of lots of siblings close in age. Marcie goes the extra mile wholeheartedly and loves to travel. Melinda has a great sense of humor and excels at languages, Stephanie is optimistic and loves camping, Jan is a first-rate writer and tackles big publishing projects, Rachel makes others feel comfortable around her, and Mark is musical and very verbal. I can’t wait to get to heaven and see which of Mom’s talents Robyn possesses.

Of course, it’s not as distinct as this list would seem; I see my mom and my dad’s good qualities in all of my siblings. She gave me the gift of a devoted mother, a lifelong friend, and an inspiring pattern to follow.

Happy Mother’s Day!

--Jill

Mothers Day Moments

I know this is too late to count. But we've been rather busy lately. In fact, I barely noticed it was Mothers Day, except for a few special reminders.

First, Ephraim's Mothers Day gift to me was that he let me have a great girls night on Saturday evening with two sweet friends. He made the main course, took the kids home, put them to bed, and didn't complain when I came home at 11:30 pm.

Then at 2 am I got a phone call I had been expecting from my friend Maima. "Melinda, can we go to the hospital now?" I said, "Are you sure you're ready?" She said the contractions were very regular and uncomfortable, but she'd wait a little longer. Ten minutes later she called again and I was out the door. In the car and later in the hospital, Maima took each contraction with such control and serenity I thought she had a long way to go. However, when the nurse checked her, she announced she was at 9 cm and they'd get the delivery room ready!

After about an hour in the hospital, she was pushing. And after 10 minutes of pushing, little John was born.

This was amazing for me for many reasons. First, I usually labor for 20+ hours in ugly agony holding on to life just to hear the nurse say "10 cm". Maima's serenity and fortitude through transition stage definitely inspired me.

Also, I enjoyed acting as a doula on Mothers Day--encouraging her, cheering for her, helping her stay focused and informed. I just did what I've seen my mom do for me. Maima told me what a service I had provided for her, but really the pleasure was mine. I couldn't help getting teary the moment he finally came out with tense limbs and strong cries...a perfect little boy.

I've been thinking about finding "nobility in motherhood" and what an immense task motherhood is. I believe mothers are a type, or example, of Christ given to each of His children. Maybe if we forget how much He loves us, we can be reminded by our mothers' deep, unselfish love for us.

So Happy Mothers Day to us all. Everyday.

Tourists!

When a cruise ship is in port, we get excited. Even the buses wear flowers.

We had to get a picture of the beachgoers. Why? Well, Samoans go to the beach in the late afternoon and swim in T-shirt and shorts. These folks were out there at noon wearing next to nothing. I bet they sold a lot of aloe vera lotion on the ship that night.

Here's an article I really liked that's borrowed from the Coletti's blog. It describes a visitor's discovery of American Samoa charm.

Show of flower power bowls a maiden over
DEPARTURE LOUNGE Susan Kurosawa
March 17, 2007

THE term maiden world voyage sounds deliciously antiquated, as if one would expect said ship to be full of tea-sipping Miss Marple look-alikes in cardigans and brogues. This definitely has not been the case as Queen Mary 2 makes its inaugural loop from Fort Lauderdale via the Pacific and Asia to Southampton, causing a stir of Hollywood star proportions wherever it arrives.
San Francisco and Sydney hold the honours thus far for harbour spectacles: spectator craft galore (looking as small as bathtub toys) bobbing around the QM2, media fanfare and fireworks, fireboats with their water-spray welcomes, traffic snarls and public transport stoppages.
These maiden voyage performances have been well chronicled but less heralded was QM2's arrival at Pago Pago on the island of Tutuila, American Samoa, on February 13. Our arrival into port was slow and purposeful, along a deep dredged channel, rimmed with reefs and sandbars.
Dressed-to-the-nines dignitaries, including a resplendent Miss American Samoa, were on the docks as the ship pulled in. QM2 cast a 62m shadow over an assortment of container sheds and port offices, looming so large that the low-rise tuna-cannery town seemed of Legoland proportions.

In a neat avenue between the gangway and the port entrance, stalls had been set up, selling the expected South Seas inventories of baskets, shells, sarongs and vivid shirts.

But also on display were fantastic arrangements of flowers -- heliconia and strelitzia, spiral ginger and branches of sweet frangipani -- decked with red ribbons, hearts and Valentine's Day greetings. The enterprise of the local women was well rewarded: the American passengers, in particular, bought so many of the big bouquets that the stallholders' young children were sent racing off to find more flowers. I had a vision that night of all the gardens in Pago Pago denuded of their bright bounty as a thousand cabins across the QM2 gleamed with flourishes of red and gold.

I can't imagine too many passengers feeling thrilled at the prospect of Pago Pago on the itinerary. It isn't one of the big-hitters -- everyone on QM2's maiden world voyage was poised to get to Sydney -- but sometimes it is the small, contained ports that offer the unexpected, and therefore the more valuable, pleasures.

Our arrival approximately doubled the town's population. Of course, not all the ship's 2500-plus passengers and 1250-plus crew went ashore, but it appeared as if a small city had landed on Pago Pago's tropical doorstep. The locals loved it: modified American school buses -- with open sides, hard wooden seats and decorated with palm fronds -- lined up for tours and transfers. There weren't enough guides to go around so high school students with good English were let off studies for the day and served as novice escorts, several launching into impromptu renditions of the national anthem.

The little shops around the waterfront put up sale signs, which seemed unbelievable; they were offering "Queen discounts", not doubling the prices, as is often the case when cashed-up tourists hit a backwater.

I caught one of the rattling public buses, with the driver in a low-slung cabin like a Formula One driver's cockpit, and sat next to Amelia, a primary schoolteacher who told me she wasn't a local. Amelia had come from the western side of Samoa and she waved her hand as if gesturing towards an unimaginably distant horizon.

The bus, with a mural of the sinking Titanic on its rear, didn't seem to be going anywhere in particular so I just rode along, enjoying the lushness of the scenery and the reverberations of the driver's sound system.

Many of the houses in American Samoa have graves in their front yards, scrupulously maintained with polished headstones and jars of flowers. I asked Amelia what happens when families move house but she looked shocked, unable to grasp the concept of such abandonment. Later I imagined the real-estate listings: sea views, ensuite ancestors.

When Amelia got off, she told me to make the driver drop me near the ship and that I was to pay him $1 "and not a penny more".

The day was full of such small kindnesses. I bought metres of cotton fabric printed with hibiscus and the cashier gave me 20 per cent discount as my "special Mary price".

Pago Pago used to have a cable car across the harbour to the summit of Mt Alava. Travel&Indulgence's cruise correspondent Helen Hutcheon has often told me that the port's "flower shower" ceremony is one of her favourite South Pacific experiences. Apparently the locals used to throw flowers on to the decks of cruise ships from the cable car gondolas as a gesture of farewell. But in 1980 a US Navy plane struck the cable and it hasn't been replaced.

As QM2 sailed late that afternoon, we were promised a 21st-century flower "power" version of the shower. A helicopter was to scatter blooms on us as we gathered on the aft of deck eight sipping cocktails in colours Mother Nature never dreamed of. It was cloudy, the chopper could be heard but not seen. Eventually it made a quick pass and a few stems could be seen hurtling away from the ship. They looked the size of twigs.

Children waved from the shore, some climbed trees and were waving US flags. "Nothing happens here," said the woman next to me as we leaned on the railings. She had completely missed the point.

Susan Kurosawa was a guest of Cunard.

http://www.cunardline.com.au/

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