"See me feel me"

This, today, was so full of images. Women. All had certain things that indeed set them apart from others. But, each was warm and tender. I have always loved the feminine. I became a hairdresser, out of that desire to touch. It was an aside, something so extra ordinary. While I drove a taxi in Manhattan I found a salon. The window was filled with feminine features, faces framed in Egyptian geometry. There was this genius Sasssoon, an English Jew, born in London, recruited to the sands of time. There he formed a precise way of cutting hair so as to replicate the sights of the desert found. I was intrigued by his insight-fullness. Given my love of the feminine and my delight in art... there was no alternative. I must pursue this expression. It was just so crazy. Another road that appeared. Travel down that road I must. In so doing I attained a discipline that allowed me to play with and love so many wonderful ladies. I do not regret the number. Each touched me in a quite exciting way. Each gave me memories that I hold dear. There is a sweet smell that each has. There is never enough. Cursed, I think not. To this very day, I am so wanting to hold a woman. It is a pleasure and delight.

THE BAND PLAYS ON

Ownership of a horse is no simple thing. My naivete set me on a path to yet another adventurous learning experience. Jumping in as quickly as I had opened the door for the unexpected. The fence I installed was lacking in rigidity, so Mahina oft times found her way up many roads. She would just go on her own merry way. There were ever so many more delightful places to graze. The cane grass that at first covered the ground in my makeshift corral, she tromped down with ease. The phone would ring in the night and a neighbor would inform me of her whereabouts. Riding was something else. I never did get the control issue down. The fact of the matter was she took me places that were of her choosing. One sunny weekend day we went on one of these outings. I waved at Mr Toma as we passed his station. He shook his head in disbelief. Down Haiku Road, through the gulch, we stopped at her will for bites of this or that. Out ahead of us the sound of Rock n Roll music could be heard. Mahina must have liked that for she led us to the music's whereabouts. A small house sat on this end of road piece of land. Behind the house was a shed roofed garage with a group of musicians jamming away..... electric sounds blared from large speakers....many of them. The only person not playing swayed and shuffled about in front of a mixing board. This long haired, bare bellied person grabbed hold of a microphone........WHOOOOO ARE YOU?.....followed by a drum beat hit me square in the face. I dismounted and walked a little timidly towards him and the others. My name is Charles. "I heard the music.......HAVE A BEER.....tie that horse over there.... Before day was out I held a microphone and was singing, dancing, smoking joints .... These guys in the band would become good friends and our musical escapades would be stuff of future stories ....ROCK ON!!!!
 

HORSING AROUND

 The Makawoa Rodeo is an event that attracts a diversity of Maui inhabitants and tourists alike. I grabbed my Tony Lama boots and drove up the hill to this island production. Paniolos ( Hawaiian cowboys ) gingerly rode their horses around the arena and hoisted beers out of coolers. My mother had always taken my brother Stephen and I to the rodeo at Madison Square Garden each and every year as children. Seeing cowboys on the Manhattan streets was surreal. Here in upcountry Maui it seemed to fit. The Hawaiian cowboy is a tinge more colorful then the mainland variety, as most had flower leis and complex feather bands on their western hats. For the most part they were of Portuguese decent. It is of interest that somehow they all looked like the same fellow. The event galloped on into the early evening, red dust rising into the air. Winners and losers alike had a great boozy time. We all had those cowboy dreams in my generation. No matter where you lived the six gun and the horse were akin to manhood. I decided to buy a horse. Mahina Hula came into my life shortly after my first Maui rodeo.

 perhaps...just perhaps....I may have an audience. A bit of time walking, hence forth. The thing of it is I dream  Hawaiianights. Some may find joy or humor in this adventure of mine. It  matters! ....I like doing..... every given moment.
 MAY I HAVE THIS DANCE?

"CATCH A FALLING STAR...PUT IT IN YOUR POCKET. SAVE IT FOR A RAINY DAY."
if one looks
there are many
no two
the same

RAINBOW'S END

IT IS SAID THAT ONE CAN FIND A POT OF GOLD AT THE END OF A RAINBOW. MY POCKETS OVERFLOW WITH SUCH. HERE, IN HAWAII, RAINBOWS ARE UNLIMITED. ALL ONE HAS TO DO IS OPEN HIS OR HER EYES. RICH, IS SO VERY DIFFERENT FOR EACH AND EVERYONE OF US."FOOLS RUSH IN"....OTHERS LEARN TO WALK SLOWLY....STOP...BREATHE DEEP....SEE!....WONDERS ABOUND. ACCEPT EACH TURN OF EVENTS, AND FEEL THAT UNIQUENESS IN EVERY MOMENT. I RAN SO VERY FAST AS A CHILD. NOW, I AM HUMBLED BY EACH STEP, AND FIND RICHES SO IMMENSE. NOT ONE OF US SHOULD ASK FOR MORE. SO MANY RAINBOWS. SO MANY POTS OF GOLD.

 Haiku, Maui is situated on the north shore of the island. It is on the edge of the rain forest. Here is where I have decided to play out my Hawaiian fantasy. I smile with the realization that Paradise is now my home. Each day is one of wonder and amazement. Nature screams out to me. The land is a virtual garden of eden. I come to realize that all one needs to do is put cuttings of plants directly into the ground and they grow. Magic is everywhere. Life is easy. People smile. The armor that protected me in New York is old news. I have never know such ease of living. I can walk to Fukushima store, "talk story", have a FUKU DOG, not the New York Frankfurter, but a fabulous creation with a topping of some exotic mixture that only is known to the owner. It is also a place where if one is lucky enough he is invited to join the beer drinking "pau hana" event in the back room towards closing time. Eventually I am invited. We drink with abandon and tell stories of past and present. The beer comes directly from the cooler to all participants. No bar in this town as yet, but who needs one when this place exists. Toma garage is around the corner. It is a similar small town place. When here long enough an account is set up for you. These places have an almost cowboy feel to them in their architecture....flat fronted wooden store fronts, inverted v's pointing towards the sky. Everything is almost choked with the endless vegetation. Down the country road, the Hana Highway bends it's way along the steep cliffs above the endless blue ocean. Each turn reveals yet another waterfall. How could life get any better?

1970 was an extremely good year. I was six thousand miles away from New York on a sleepy tropical island named Maui. Love was in the air. There were miles of white sand beaches, rainbows, waterfalls; Magic pure and simple.The population was a mere 40,000 persons....a mix of Japanese, Filipino, Portuguese, High Maka Maka Haoles ( missionary descendants ) Hawaiian, and Hapa ( mixed races ). The newly arrived were mostly white mainlanders, the bulk of whom came from the west coast. A handful of blacks added to the ranks. Trust fund kids, Hippies, and a few new entrepreneurs now roamed the island. Makena, was home to tree housed love children. Haiku and Upcountry were where those of us who had some money set our foundations. Marijuana smoke filled our lungs. Tropical fruits juiced our bodies. Dazed and dancing the "Be here now", love children, floated in the warm Pacific by day and beheld a star filled sky by night. A fleet of battered, rusting, Maui Cruisers rattled around the island. Rock n Roll, mantras, and free love beset this once docile place.....never again would Maui be the same. 

It was the mid 1950's when Arthur Godfrey was on TV. My family gathered in the living room to watch his weekly show. Arthur strummed his ukulele as Hoku Lani swayed her hips to the Pacific melody. Flowers hung about her neck. Her hands gestured towards heaven. watching this etched in my mind the essence of a place so vastly different. I moved to Maui in 1970.

It was the mid 1950's when Arthur Godfrey was on TV. Our family gathered in the living room to watch his weekly show. Artur strummed his ukulele as Hoku Lani swayed her hips to the Pacific melody. Flowers hung about her neck. Her hands gestured toward heaven. It was watching this that set in my mind a place so vastly different. In 1970 I moved to Maui.

Now my dreams find a new address here in Pahoa, Hawaii....

1917 Walton Avenue is but a memory now. That building was bulldozed many years ago, as were so many others in the Bronx. I passed by that place where it stood on the #4 train only last week. Standing, I peered through the window, remembering. Faces....clips of my movie occupied my thoughts till the 59th street station..... Climbed those stairs millions of times.... Played stick ball on that street.... Drank egg creams in the candy store down the block..... Sweat through those East Coast hell summers..... Froze in same place winter.
A fenced basketball court now occupies that spot.....other souls now walk there.

As you may already know, I am a product of the Bronx. I was raised there, at 1917 Walton Avenue. It was one of those 5 story walk-ups. The neighborhood was predominantly Jewish. We, meaning my family were not. We were among a handfull of gentiles in the community. The Jerome Avenue Elevated train passed directly in back of our apartment building.... living by the tracks you might say. It was a screeching, rumbling sound that in time became white noise. I never liked it there. I had early dreams of exit. The images that accompany this narrative are pieces of my own art work. My grandfather was my inspiration, as he painted with oils in a small room/studio in our apartment. He saw something in me and handed me my first brushes......THANKS GRANDPA!
So it is my intention to tell my story and share my art........Enjoy

There is a certain magic to life. Even that which seems so very abstract or convoluted..... dead end streets.... wrong turns.... actual rewards that deliver wonderment and positive reinforcement in each of our lives. Time to be still.... time to choose. A single sheet of music is written for each of us. my music moves from Blues to Rock.... Folk to Classical. Every chord and voice over needed time to be heard. Immediate pleasure or hurt was felt..... all of which made me strong. no two of us walk the same street at the same moment. Our eyes look absolutely at things in different ways.... our individual selves abide there. Listen to your music..... write the words... tell your story. Above all dance and love. Cry tears of JOY. Rainbows are EVERYWHERE.

DANCE

now & then

Rain....it falls... sometimes with abandon....other times a gentle mist. All in all this essential element allows a landscape abounding in infinite tropical flora. Colors and fragrances amaze and delight. This is my Hawaiian night. Never do I take tis for granted. Instead, it brings days so very full of surprise and wonder. I have known the opposite.... born in that place so different....The Bronx.
Empire State.... City.... Manhattan.... the new world Rome; a place where all rush upwards towards the starry sky.... thrones above the honking horns.... forever neon OPEN. Heartless and shameless.... Yankee home runs.... Bronx Bomber aloofness. Stacks of tenement rooms filled bodies both wishful and hopeless. I wanted ESCAPE! Elevated and Subway tracks.....Please God...
Take Me Away!......FAR AWAY.