Hau'oli Makahiki Hou (Happy New Year) from Hawaii!

            It has been more than twenty years since I greeted a new year in Hawaii, but I slid back easily into the rituals that are a unique part of Hawaii’s culture. A few days before New Year’s I darted into Long’s drug store, my mom’s list in hand, to pick up fireworks—three strings of firecrackers each 12 feet long. My parents told me that this would be the last year that Hawaii residents would be able to honor the Chinese tradition without getting a special permit. I can remember during my elementary school days, the streets of Kapahulu (maybe most of Hawaii) buried under red paper when I woke up on January 1 from all the firecrackers popping the night before.

            On New Year’s Eve, I was the runner in our mission to gather all the special foods necessary to ensure a good start to 2011. Our first stop was at a tiny restaurant in Kaneohe that I’d never been to. My assignment was to get a pound of Roast Pork and a pound of Char Siu. I almost failed.

When we first pulled up, it was closed. My parents dropped me off to find parking. I noticed that the restaurant was dark inside, but the door was unlocked, so I went in. A man popped his head out of the kitchen and told me to come back in a half hour.

            I met my parents and explained. We drove around for awhile and then returned. My mother was puzzled that they’d open “so late” (10:00am) on New Year’s Eve.  At 9:50 I went back and made the embarrassing discovery that I’d gone into the wrong restaurant.  I was supposed to go into the Chinese restaurant Kin Sun, but I went into the Korean restaurant, Yoonyson, I knew there was a “Sun” somewhere in the name. Kin Sun’s business was hopping. They had opened at 9:00. We had a good laugh about that.

Korean restaurant on the left. Kin Sun, the correct restaurant on the right.

Then we drove to the other side of Oahu to Chinatown. While Dad and Mom circled the block for a parking space, I stood in line on the Pauahi street sidewalk outside of Char Hung Sut waiting for the treasured Dim Sum treats. After the earlier mixup, I double checked to make sure I was in line for the right place. 

I had my list written down:  6 manapua (steamed Char Siu Bao—white balls of dough with a nugget of sweet red pork in the center),  8 pork hash (Siu Mai—little money bags of pork), 8 pepeiau (that's the Hawaiian word for ear, which is what this dim sum is shaped like), 8 half moons (half circles of meat wrapped in a noodle casing).  (Warning: don’t try to order these treats by the first names I Iisted unless you’re in Hawaii, because those are the Hawaiian names.) A disappointed groan went up from the line when the owner came out, and announced that there might not be enough manapua . I turned to the gal in back of me, “Kinda makes me want to get a dozen when they make more instead of the six I came to get.”

She laughed, “Yeah, I know, I was going to get a dozen, maybe I’ll get two dozen.” That supply/demand economic thing can suddenly turn a reasonable person into a greedy one. I resisted though, and stuck with my original order to leave some for the ones behind me.

After a half hour wait, spent celebrating when I made it to the door, then when I made it down the step into the tiny room with the counter, then when they took my order, I finally stepped back out onto the sidewalk triumphant. I held the cardboard bakery style box stamped with the red Char Hung Sut logo by the string wrapped around it. It was warm and heavy with the prized food.

As the new year ticked closer, mom called our favorite Chinese neighborhood restaurant to order noodles. The tradition is to eat long noodles right after midnight, so that you will have a long life. She was stunned when the lady on the phone told her they’d be ready in an hour. She double checked whether she’d heard that right. Yep, one hour. Usually the answer is, “Ten minute.”

I was the runner again. There were no parking spaces open. One look at the faces of the people when I walked through the pick up door, told me this wasn’t going to be as simple as I thought. Apparently, the woman who’s usually in charge wasn’t there on their busiest night of the year. The young girls trying to hold down the fort were crumbling under the glare of annoyed customers whose orders weren’t ready. I managed to get out of there with my noodles, glad that I didn’t work there.

At home Dad rounded up some punks (smoldering wooden sticks, not juvenile delinquents) from former years to light the fireworks with since I forgot to get any when I got the fireworks. My sister, Cynthia, and her husband, Bruce came over to celebrate with us.

I called home at 9:30 Hawaii time, 11:30 Washington time to double check on how Johnny was doing cooking the Chow Funn. Before I’d left, I’d shown John where to get the ingredients in Fred Meyer’s grocery store. Johnny and I had made Chow Funn for his Life Issues class (sort of like Home Economics) in junior high school, and he’d watched me cook it over the years. Sarah had taken over my usual new year’s eve cleaning frenzy, and vacuumed the house. They had the fireworks we’d bought and reserved after the 4^th of July ready to go, and they knew how to go around the yard banging on a pot like I usually did. They assured me that they were ready to go. At midnight Washington time, I called to wish them all a happy new year.

Here in Hawaii, Dad gave Bruce instructions on where to set up the strings of firecrackers—one by the front door, one on the side of the carport, one strung from the clothesline by the back door. I was glad that my mom didn’t have her hearing aids in. I didn’t want her heart getting startled by the loud explosions. I was jumping every time they boomed, but she was fine.

When midnight struck, Bruce and I went around the house and lit the strings of hissing, popping, smoking red firecrackers. I banged and clanged my pot around my parents’ house in Kailua. A fog of smoke hung over Hawaii for a few hours while we ate our Chinese food for good luck. When the trade winds eventually cleared the smoke out, hopefully they also carried away any bad luck.  Have a Happy, Healthy, and Prosperous 2011!         

Laura Keolanui Stark is helping her mom and dad in Hawaii while her mom recovers from open heart surgery. She can be reached at stark.laura.k@gmail.com.

Recovery Report

On December 22, 2010 my mom had double bypass heart surgery. This Friday, seven days into 2011, we drove to Tripler Army Medical Center, the huge pink buildings that overlook Honolulu, for her post-surgery checkup.  

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Tripler Army Medical Center, Honolulu, Hawaii.

After a chest x-ray, we met with her surgeon. He listened carefully to her heart with his eyes closed, checked the incision, and then answered all the questions we’d written out on a notepad.  He adjusted some of her medications, and added something to help her get rid of the water retention in her feet. Her instructions were to keep walking and doing her breathing exercises. I know that our family is definitely breathing more easily as we watch her make good progress in recovering.

Christie and Larry Keolanui at Windward Mall.

            Every morning, mom, dad, and I go to the mall before it opens and walk. Mom is getting more steady and faster every day. The extra benefit is that my father has started mall walking again. They’re making progress and seeing positive results pretty quickly. It’s good to see them active again. It won’t be long before they’re increasing the laps they walk around the mall.

Mom and me at Windward Mall, Kaneohe, Hawaii.

Laura Keolanui Stark is in Hawaii helping her mom recover. She can be reached at stark.laura.k@gmail.com.

Mom's Mended Heart

The news on my mom is good. The surgery went very well. Hours after the surgery, she was sitting up and eating. When I talked to her today she said that the doctors told her that when her ability to walk improves, she’ll be able to go home. Her walking is a little wobbly because they took an artery out of her leg to replace one of the arteries to her heart. So, she has been doing laps in the hospital holding onto a wheelchair to keep her balance.

            She had the surgery on Wednesday and the doctors anticipated her staying in the hospital for a week. Now, it looks like she might be able to go home on Sunday. I’m sure that she would love to be home on Sunday, because that is my parents’ 57^th wedding anniversary. So, she definitely has a goal while doing her laps.

My dad told me that the nurses have been taking great care of her. That didn’t surprise me. My mom’s a sweetheart, very easy to like. My sister and her husband bought a mini-Christmas tree for her room and will take her presents to her on Christmas day. My brother, who lives on Maui, and I will just have to be content talking to her on the phone for now.

            My flight is booked for Monday. I hope that my sister Cynthia can keep Mom from doing any cleaning or cooking until I’m there to take that over. She’ll have her hands full trying to prevent that. Mom told me that she’s bored in the hospital.

            Thank you for all your prayers and good wishes. They’re working!

Laura Keolanui Stark can be reached at stark.laura.k@gmail.com.

Christmas Time Lapse

If there was a video camera in my house set on time lapse by the front door, here are some of the snippets it would record leading up to Christmas (each frame would include either barking, yipping, tail-wagging dogs, or sleeping dogs underfoot):

12/11: John and I hauling in a freshly cut Christmas tree looking like drowned rats coming in from the rain. John and I hauling the tree back out to cut a few inches off the bottom, then hauling it in again.

12/12: John setting up three reindeer on the front lawn, (one that’s animated) and a Snoopy lit dog house, then throwing a net of Christmas lights on the rhodies out front.

The animated one is on the left.

John with his suitcase leaving on a business trip to San Diego.

12/13: Me taking the Snoopy dog house down because it doesn’t fit in with the reindeer, and putting it on our back deck, but not hooking it up because I can’t find another outdoor extension cord.

Me in my pajamas at 12:30 in the morning looking outside to see if there was a tornado rampaging through the neighborhood because the winds were so high I was awakened by pine cones pelting our roof as if 20 professional pitchers were throwing them into our catcher’s mitt roof. The wind gusting through the centuries-old fir trees in our yard sounds like the ocean.

12/14: Me setting the animated reindeer up again because he blew down in the storm as did the unlit Snoopy doghouse.

Johnny and his girlfriend Sarah entering the house with long exhales, after a harrowing car trip home from WSU Pullman, Washington through a slippery, snowy mountain pass reporting that it’s the worst they’ve ever seen it. The news reporting that traction tires or 4-wheel drive is now required. Neither of them came through with either of those.

12/15: Me and girlfriend Sarah going out to dinner at Red Robin to celebrate our anniversaries together because Dec. 15 marked the 4^th year of she and Johnny dating, and the 31^st year of John and I being married. Johnny had a composition deadline, so he couldn’t go out. John was still in San Diego, so we couldn’t go out. Pulling out of the driveway, she noticed that the animated reindeer had fallen down again. I pulled back into the garage and uprighted him once again.

11:30 pm: John returns from his trip and confirms that the sun is still shining in Southern California, unlike here. Comforting to know.

12/16: Johnny and I leaving to take his composition to the printer. Johnny and I returning and assembling all 28 orchestra parts of his composition on the dining room table. Johnny and I leaving to overnight express mail it all to the Washington Idaho Symphony.

12/17: Johnny’s best friend Dave arrives from Gonzaga Spokane, Washington saying that when he came through Snoqualmie Pass it wasn’t bad. He has 4-wheel drive.

11:00 that night, Sarah coming home with John and me after we rendezvoused with her and her boyfriend Andy in the World Market parking lot in Bellevue. They’d also come from WSU Pullman. It was raining in the pass. Her boyfriend Andy headed north to his home in Snohomish.

Recurring scenes: Packages and Christmas cards, holiday catalogs, store fliers arriving en masse every day. Every weekday, John coming and going to work, and walking the dogs. Every other day, me leaving with a water bottle for Zumba and returning sweaty. Also scattered in here, are random trips with different family members to go shopping. Much returning with crinkly bags of gifts. Me shoving everything into the laundry room, then trying to organize it all while doing loads of laundry.

12/16: Me asking Johnny and Dave to put Christmas lights on the tree because they’re substantially taller than me. Johnny laughing outright. Dave saying he’d do it.

12/17: Me accepting a package from the mailman and asking him how long he’d be in the neighborhood. Mailman telling me that I was his last delivery today. Me explaining that I still needed to print the labels for my packages. Him saying he’d pick them up the next day.

Two hours later, me loading four packages into my car to drop off at the post office. Me returning with two large pizzas.

12/18: Me asking Sarah for suggestions of where to take our Christmas picture for our card since we were all finally together. Me wondering why we didn’t take the picture when we were all snowed in on Thanksgiving. Sarah reminding me that we took a family picture when we went to Hawaii on Spring Break. Me excitedly logging on to my laptop to look for the picture. My smile fading when I looked through ten pictures of us on the beach and realize that somebody has their eyes squinched closed, or hair whipping across their face, or looking pasty white in each photo.

Reindeer down again! Me telling John that maybe it’s time to retire the falling reindeer to the garage. Him saying he’ll look at it again.

12/19: While the kids sleep in, John and I jump in the car and go to two different malls to shop for the last few things.

Me noticing that it stopped raining, and calling girlfriend Sarah to ask if she can see Mt. Rainier from her house. Me rallying the troops, announcing that the mountain was out. Get up, get dressed! We’re taking the picture on Sarah’s deck with the mountain in the background. My Sarah suggesting an alternate location if that doesn’t work. Groans coming from everywhere in the house. Lots of blurred figures running up and down from the laundry room. Shoes, boots, scarves, jackets, antlers being thrown around. John and Johnny heading to the truck with the dogs. Sarah and I teetering on our boots into my car.

Our Christmas card for 2010: John holding T-Bone's leash, Laura holding Suzy,
Sarah & Johnny.

John putting the lights on the naked Christmas tree. John hauling footlockers of decorations up and down the stairs.

Me clearing the dining room table of Autumn place settings replacing it with a beautiful Christmas floral centerpiece sent by a friend. Me serving a delicious smoked turkey, also given to us by a friend, mashed potatoes and green beans to the family as a send off dinner for Dave.

Me sitting on the couch with Sarah K. reviewing the pictures we took on her deck which turned out pretty well even though the mountain didn’t show up at all, frustrating because we could see it, but to the camera it was invisible. Me taking my laptop around to get everyone’s opinion. Me ordering Christmas card photos from Costco online at 1:00 am.

12/20: Dave loading his SUV up to aim for Reno where his family has moved.

Me entering the house with the Christmas cards. Me taking them out and noticing that the caption I asked them to print on the card doesn’t show up at all, kind of like disappearing Mt. Rainer! Me looking for a silver, white, or gold pen that I can write over the “ghostly” caption with.

Me answering the phone. The half-decorated tree, the unbaked cookies, the unwritten blog, the unwritten Christmas letter to go with the photo cards, the unfinished sewn  gift, the ever-falling reindeer, the disconnected Snoopy doghouse, the unwrapped presents, the last packages to be mailed all turn into background static. My father tells me that my mother needs double heart bypass surgery scheduled in two days.

Me calling my sister to figure out if I should fly to Hawaii to take care of my dad while mom’s in the hospital. Her telling me that she’s taking off from work. Me asking how Mom’s spirits are. Her telling me that my mom’s worried because before she left for the hospital, the kitchen sink was clogged, and she wants my father to call a plumber. My sister also tells me that if I go home, she’s not sure where I’ll sleep because Mom piled the “guest” bed with presents that need to be wrapped. I tell her that I’m perfectly capable of clearing the bed and wrapping presents. Sounds just like my house! The only difference is that my mom doesn’t have a laundry room to pile stuff in. My dad was calling my brother after he talked to me. My sister’s got to get more information from the hospital. She’ll call me tomorrow.

John checking his miles on three different airlines to see if I can get a free ticket to Hawaii. Me clicking around on Expedia.com searching for the lowest fares. We’re shy of any free tickets. John says that if I have to go, he thinks he can talk the airlines into a free ticket. The flights I’m looking at are booked solid. John goes to bed.

11:30: Johnny and Sarah K. come back from her house announcing that there’s a lunar eclipse. Sarah S. and I join them standing at the end of our driveway, craning our necks to watch it. Sarah K. goes back in the house to bundle Suzy the dachshund up in a blanket, and bring her out because she’s howling, and will wake John up. When I go to bed, out of the dark, John asks what Suzy was howling about.

12/21: While I wait to hear from my sister, I take the last packages to the post office and run to the bank. My Sarah’s boyfriend is driving down to see her, so I bake two batches of cookies, and prod her into putting some ornaments on the tree. After I finish this blog, I’ll start dividing up and wrapping the presents so that if I need to go, they’ll be ready. Then I’ll start working on the Christmas letter and the cards. That might not show up on the time lapse because I may be doing that on a west-bound flight to Hawaii.

Whatever gets done or gets left un-done doesn’t really matter. What I want for Christmas, can’t be wrapped. I know it’s a busy time of year, but please say a prayer for my mom. Merry Christmas!

Laura Keolanui Stark is a freelance writer/blogger. She can be reached at stark.laura.k@gmail.com.

Football Craziness in Our Family's Blood

Up here on South Hill in Puyallup, there are two high schools. Rogers opened in the late 1960s. Emerald Ridge opened in 2000. Of course the rivalry between the two high schools is intense, and every football season they play against each other for the unofficial title of “King of the Hill.”

My kids went to the newer Emerald Ridge. When Sarah was getting ready to go to her first King of the Hill football game, I warned her not to go over to the Rogers Rams' side of the field even though she had lots of friends at Rogers. She gave me a vague, non-committal answer. Dressed up in her Emerald Ridge Jaguar fur coat and matching Fedora, I dropped the smiling freshman Jaguar off.

          When I picked her up, she wasn’t smiling. I figured we'd lost the game. But her glum expression was because she didn’t heed my warning. Somehow she sneaked around the police stationed between the rival stands to find her Ram friend Christina. She got booed and had stuff thrown at her. She did find Christina, which was lucky because the Ram mascot spotted Jaguar Sarah, and tried to pick her up and carry her off the field. Christina linked arms with Sarah, and the mascot couldn’t pick them both up.

               Sarah was surprised, hurt, and a little outraged that several of her other Rogers friends didn’t come to her rescue. “I went to elementary school and junior high school with them! They saw what was going on and looked the other way! When Christina came on the Emerald Ridge side, nobody went after her!”

When I dropped her off her sophomore year, I couldn’t resist asking if she was planning on going over to the Rogers side of the field. She glared and then gave me a very definite, “NO!”

In our newspaper, The News Tribune out of Tacoma, there’s a feature called “Around the World.” People travel around the world and snap a picture of themselves at famous landmarks holding a copy of The News Tribune. I always like checking out these photos.

Last month, there was a picture of a guy dressed in a Seattle Seahawks jersey standing with his newspaper in front of Lambeau Field in Green Bay, Wisconsin before the Minnesota Vikings vs. Green Bay Packers game. The caption read: “Brett Favre threw 3 interceptions and broke his ankle in the Minnesota loss to Green Bay. I was representing our 1^st place Seahawks and was hazed throughout the game!! So much fun!!!”

I saved that picture to show John and Johnny. I watched them carefully as they  read the caption. Both of them had the same reaction. They each got a little bemused smile at the end.

I focused on those last two sentences—“hazed throughout the game!! So much fun!!!” My question to the males in my family, “Why would it be fun to make yourself a target and get hazed throughout the game? What, is that a guy thing?”

“Yeah it is.” More smiles.

“I don’t get it.”

            Shrugs. "It’s a guy-thing!” Full-on grinning.

This Saturday, December 4, is The Apple Cup. For those of you who don’t live in Washington, it’s the biggest football rivalry in the state. The Washington State Cougars play the University of Washington Huskies. Bets are made between the college Presidents. I have a standing bet with a Husky family who are friends and neighbors (see last year’s Apple Cup blog). Some families straddle the Cougar/Husky split. Newscasters broadcast wearing crimson (WSU) or purple (UW).

My Coug Out profile pic, WSU pumpkin carved for Halloween.

This year on Facebook there’s something called, “Coug Out Facebook.” To participate, you change your profile picture to the WSU logo, or to a picture showing your Cougar spirit. Johnny told me that one of his friends created it, and sent it to 16 of his friends thinking that was as far as it would go. There are now 22,315 participants. Johnny’s girlfriend Sarah is also one of the creators. Daughter Sarah got into a Facebook insult battle because someone posted something saying that even Huskies bleed crimson and she clicked that she liked it. UW must have something similar going on because I’m seeing the Husky logo popping up as some profile pics.

The two universities alternate between playing The Apple Cup in freezing, possibly snowy WSU’s Martin Stadium in Pullman, or in UW’s probably rainy Husky Stadium in Seattle. This year it will be played at WSU in Pullman. Q13 Fox News showed snow plows and 150 workers feverishly removing 20” of snow from Martin Stadium this morning. My two Cougars are reporting that it’s been bone chilling cold this week with temperatures dipping into single digits. They took their ski coats, gloves and boots with them when they left after Thanksgiving. That’s what they’ll wear to the game.

On this side of the state, John and another WSU employee have come up with a brilliant plan to spectate The Apple Cup. John broke the news to me with that same little smile. “We're (that includes me) going to watch The Apple Cup at Harmon Brewing Company.”

Let’s be clear here. I love football, especially college football, even Cougar football despite several losing seasons in a row. I love a good, fierce rivalry. I went to LSU in the SEC. I understand, indeed embrace, college football rivalry. I also love the Harmon Brewing Company restaurant in downtown Tacoma. But, it is basically on the solid purple, University of Washington-Tacoma Husky campus.

We’ll be proudly (or sheepishly?) wearing our Crimson and Gray Cougar colors. I’m sure we’ll be warmer than our kids. In fact, I’m positive things will be very heated as we watch the game from inside Husky territory. I’m pretty sure that there won’t be a mascot who tries to carry me off. I hope that when the game’s over, we can claim like the guy in the newspaper, “So much fun!!!”

Go Cougs!!!!

If you’d like to see what the inside of snowy Martin Stadium looks like on Thursday, December 02, 2010, click on this link: 

http://www.ktvb.com/news/regional/Crews-work-feverishly-to-clear-snow-in-time-for-the-Apple-Cup-111202649.html 

Laura Keolanui Stark can be reached at stark.laura.k@gmail.com. If no more blogs show up after The Apple Cup, please send some Cougars in to rescue us from Harmon Brewing Company in Tacoma.

Gobble! Gobble!

Although it’s Thanksgiving, it looks more like Christmas around here. It started snowing on Sunday and we ended up with about 6” of snow which is still frosting our yard and neighborhood streets. Our winter wonderland leads to the first thing I’m thankful for this year. I’m extremely grateful that my kids and their friends made it safely 300 miles across the state through blizzards and mountain passes to spend Thanksgiving at home with us.

I’m also grateful that I was able to get out of our driveway Monday afternoon to buy the turkey and the rest of the groceries for our Thanksgiving feast and that our power stayed on.

I have so many things to be thankful for, I’ll just list them. I’m thankful:

That my husband John has a great job, especially one that allows him to use his talents to make the environment a better place.

For two extraordinary kids that I like spending time with who are doing well in college. For all the great family and friends that we have sprinkled around the world.

That my family is healthy: my sister’s cancer is in remission, my brother has lost over 150 pounds and my parents’ diabetes is under control.

That I get to dance at Zumba with the Best Fitness Trainers in Western Washington and am still able to keep up.

For my pets: steady T-Bone and his sense of humor, Susie the lap dachshund who thinks she’s a big dog, Velvet the diabetic who I didn’t think would make it through Halloween, but is still lounging on her chair today, and Java, our ditzy manx, who is SO happy that Sarah’s home.

For my quilting studio, sewing machine, mountains of fabric, and time to quilt.

For the pilgrims who were gutsy enough to come to North America and the Indians who were hospitable enough to help the pilgrims survive their first winter.

For Thomas Jefferson and the rest of our founding fathers who came up with the best system of government in the world.

For our troops, ever ready to defend us and others who need our help.

For music, books, and movies to fit any mood.

For chocolate, tea, cougar gold cheddar cheese, shrimp, and steaks.

For my latest ability to qualify for a senior discount at two of my favorite stores, and yet get carded for buying beer at another.

I’m thankful that John is cooking the turkey this year in the grill we bought this summer. I hope that I’ll still be thankful for that in four and a half hours.

Lastly, I’m thankful that I’ve been able to watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade, football, and the National Dog Show while writing this blog on my laptop.

Happy Thanksgiving everybody! 

Laura Keolanui Stark is stuffing herself for Thanksgiving. She can be reached at stark.laura.k@blogspot.com.

Bully Tactics

          It’s been in the news a lot lately. Bullying. Young people committing suicide after being victimized by cyber-bullying. Adult bullies picking on a little girl who’s dying. A 55-year old disabled man sucker punched by a sociopath who ranted for 30 minutes before he knocked his victim out. In today’s newspaper, a mother wrote a letter to the editor about her daughter being bullied in elementary school.

            I’ve had a lot of first-hand experience with bullies because I was “the new kid” almost every year that I went to school. I was whispered about, laughed at, taunted, pushed, shoved, threatened, spit on, and punched. I’ve heard experts tell the parents of victims to encourage their children to be more confident, to work on not appearing weak. Maybe there’s a speck of truth in that, but I’m pretty sure that I don’t come across as a sniffling, awkward, doormat, so there’s got to be more to it than that.

            Why did they pick on me? The bullies always announced to everyone the reasons I should be persecuted. According to them, I was: wearing stupid clothes, black, oriental, had straight hair, thought I was so smart, stuck up, etc. The truth didn’t matter. The truth was that they would make up any random excuse to “get me.” It was a waste of time trying to figure out why.

Instead I focused on making it stop. When I told adults about the problem, they would tell me I must’ve done something to deserve it. What could I have possibly done to deserve being preyed on day in and day out? Or they’d tell me to tell the bullies to stop it. As if I hadn’t already done that. The other thing they’d tell me was not to fight because it takes two to fight. So basically, the message was be a good victim, shut up, and take it. Be noble, turn the other cheek, do nothing, live your life in fear. Between 11 and 17 million people were systematically killed by the Nazis during World War II using that strategy.

            While I appreciate the “It gets better” campaign, I think we need to do more to stop the bullying. We need to make it better now. Students shouldn't have to try to hang on in quiet desperation until they graduate.

            After studying bullies first hand, here’s what I found. They are cowards (especially the cyber-bullies because they like being anonymous). They always pick a smaller, weaker victim. They have enormous egos. That’s why they like having a crowd around to watch them humiliate someone. Cyber-bullies have taken that to a new level with a huge online audience.

Another myth is that bullies are misunderstood and that they’re crying for help. Bullying isn’t an accident. They know exactly what they’re doing. Bullies LIKE bullying. That’s why they smile and laugh when they’re doing it. It makes them feel superior.  They never feel sorry for the victim. The only sympathy they feel is for themselves. They can’t laugh at themselves or shrug things off. They have a heightened sensitivity to any perceived slight.

I never encountered a bully that was smarter than me. It’s interesting that they like to pick on “nerds,” equating intelligence with passivity, never making the connection that nerds are probably smart enough to outsmart them. Bullies overestimate their powers. They never expect the victim to fight back, so they rarely have anything to counter with. (The exception to this is that sometimes they’ll gather others or weapons to come after you later. That’s a very important threat to take seriously. That’s when you need to get authorities involved.) They also assume that everybody else agrees with them, or are confident that everybody else is so scared of being the next victim, they won’t do anything to rescue the current victim.

In school, students need to be able to report a bully to a teacher, counselor or principal, and trust that something will be done about it. Their allegations should be taken seriously and checked out to make sure they’re true. If they are, then the bully should be punished with detention, or suspension. It should also be made clear to the bully that if they retaliate, something even worse will happen to them. 

If there’s a fight, school officials need to find out who the instigator was, and who was defending himself. This current policy of a blanket suspension of both people is wrong. Why should the victim be punished twice? Once by the bully and then again by the authorities who are supposed to be protecting them. That’s just encouragement for the bully. It’s a win-win situation for him. It feeds into his ego. And the message to the victim is that they truly are helpless, nobody cares, and it’s a hopeless situation. If the schools won’t deal with the bullying, then get law enforcement involved.

With cyberbullying, if the social network won’t reveal who the source of the bullying is, ask the kids. They usually know. Offer a reward.   Report it to the school. Call the parents of the bullies. Call the police. If none of that works, as a parent, I’d move my child to another school.

Bullies need to know that their behavior won’t be tolerated. There will be unpleasant consequences for their actions. Other kids need to ostracize them. The key to ending bully behavior is for people to stand up against it. The more you back away from a confrontation with a bully, the more entitled he feels. It confirms his belief that he is superior, and that the victim deserves whatever cruelty he can unleash.

As for the bus situation, the bully was obviously mentally unstable. From what I saw in the news clip, he fit the bully profile. He stood ranting  directly into the camera, “I’ll do it on camera! I’ll beat your ass!” He needed an audience beyond the passengers trapped on the bus with him. What did the victim do wrong? the bully claimed that he looked at him funny. Was the victim bigger than the bully? Was he a threat? Of course not, he was a small Asian man, mentally disabled, and 55 years old. The bully was over 6 feet tall, stocky, and in his 20s. The victim couldn’t fight back, he was punched from behind.

I can’t blame the other passengers for being scared. But why didn’t one of them call or text the cops? Why not have a discreet “panic button” for the bus driver to push, calling the cops and GPS to tell them where the bus is?

            Although it wasn’t as serious as some of the incidents I’ve mentioned, here’s one of my bully experiences. By the time I reached junior high school, when I walked into a new school I was using certain tactics to anticipate bullies. I’d usually size up everybody I met. If they looked like a potential bully, I’d watch them closely to find out what their weakness was. That way, if they had something nasty to say to me, I could return the insult right where it hurt. That put most psychological bullies on notice. I would also find a group of friends to eat lunch with, and decide which teachers I could go to for help if I needed it. Lastly, no matter how mean a bully or clique was, I vowed to never let them see me cry. That’s what they wanted.

            Despite all that, I did have a bully problem in seventh grade. We moved from Panama to Hawaii. The public school I went to was rough. It was a mix of kids from a low income project, and kids like me from a nice middle class neighborhood. I befriended a Jewish girl whose father was a professor. The kids from the project were mostly Hawaiian and Samoan.

Robert Louis Stevenson Jr. High School, Honolulu, Hawaii.

My middle class Hawaiian presence rankled one Samoan girl. I was obviously Hawaiian. My last name proved that. But, I wasn’t from her neighborhood, and I didn’t speak pidgin; I sounded like a haole from the mainland. For months I ignored her goading comments about my not fitting into her racial sterotype, about being too smart for my own good, and other stupid insults. She couldn’t wait for me to do something that would entitle her to beat me up.

I gave her that opening one day after school. As we walked through campus, she was in front of me. She kept looking back at me, making nasty comments, which is why she lurched off the sidewalk, and almost fell. Always a sucker for physical humor, I made the mistake of giggling at her as her arms windmilled, while she tried to catch her balance. Embarrassed, she instantly, angrily accused me of pushing her, and started shoving me, ordering me to "Say you're sorry!" I surprised her when I shoved back and refused. We exchanged pushes back and forth until we got to a landing between two long, wide flights of stairs, where a crowd now surrounded us.

            At that time, I don’t think I weighed even 90 pounds, and stood just under 5 feet tall. She of course was much bigger. Bullies are always bigger, and they never pick on someone bigger or stronger than them. She kept yelling at me to apologize for pushing her off the sidewalk. I offered a compromise, “I’m sorry I laughed. But I didn’t push you.” She wouldn’t take what I offered. Bullies aren’t socially adept enough to handle compromise, plus she’d backed herself into a corner with the crowd watching. Now she had to beat me up.

The Japanese kids started quietly murmuring, “Just apologize. Just say 'Sorry.'” She kept pushing me around the circle, enjoying my humiliation, a cat toying with the mouse.

            And then I’d had enough. I snapped! I took a step toward her, looked her in the eye, and said, “Go ahead. You can kill me, but I will NEVER apologize! I didn’t push you off the sidewalk!”

            The crowd went silent. She was stunned for a second. I could tell she was thinking I’d gone insane, and that scared her. I took that second to reach up, grab the top of her shirt and pull. Buttons flew off, fabric ripped. She crossed her arms to cover her now exposed chest. The crowd gasped, then chuckled.

            I wish I could say that it was like a Rocky movie, that I pummeled her, and then danced triumphantly on the landing of those stairs, but in truth, I ran. I barreled down the last flight of stairs, jumped on the city bus, and managed with trembling hands to pay my bus fare. When I got home I cried and blubbered the whole story to my parents.

            I dreaded going to school the next day, but an interesting thing happened. The Japanese kids smiled at me, and told me they’d never seen anything like that before. The tough Hawaiian kids gave me nods of approval. One of them, a girl named Aloha with a homemade tattoo of “LOVE” across her knuckles put her arm around my shoulders, and told the bully, “You leave this Hawaiian girl alone. She’s smart. She’s not afraid of you. And she’s my friend.” I didn’t have anymore problems that year.

To see video of the “bus attack” go to www.q13fox.com. Laura Keolanui Stark can be reached at stark.laura.k@gmail.com.