There’s something within us that makes us want to dance. It’s an inherent need in many, many women. And far more than a few men. To dance is to give the body an opportunity to create its own poetry. This desire, this passion, this need, doesn’t disappear with age. Despite injuries, arthritis, increasing stiffness
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Jerry and I decided to change our walking itinerary today. Instead of walking in various neighborhoods in Nuuanu Valley, we combined our walk with a few errands, including a trip to FedEx and UPS in Downtown Honolulu. It’s such a foot-friendly city and has sidewalks, something sorely lacking in our valley. While Downtown, we decided
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Although it’s disappointing to have another shut down of some of our favorite places to relax or recoil from the coronavirus world (for me, the pool and the pickleball courts), there is an oasis to which we can escape and find a bit of rest and restoration: HoMA, the Honolulu Museum of Art. Jerry and
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I often wonder what it was like for my grandparents, Ragna Helsher and James Arthur Rath, when they arrived in Honolulu in 1905. So I did a little homework, and here are some random observations regarding that time: The city of Honolulu wasn’t incorporated until July 1, 1905. King Street was a muddy, unpaved road
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“Beecham House,” currently playing on PBS Masterpiece Theatre on Sunday nights, has captivated me. Not because of Tom Bateman, who plays John Beecham (although he is quite divine to look at) and not because of the costumes (which are also eye candy) or even the sumptuous palaces and textiles that light up the screen –
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