Sistah Pat

Ever heard of Pele?  The volcano goddess?  A fiery goddess of Hawaiian origin with a jealous and possessive nature who creates and rules over the islands with her assorted relatives.

Legend has it that taking a piece of her rock or even a small container of the black sand created by her wild and wanton behavior - no matter how small the amount - will bring the thief bad luck. There are those who dispute whether this is actually a Hawaiian legend or whether it’s just a creative technique to keep people from taking lava rocks and the “legend” itself has even been attributed to a particular national park historian. But the truth is that it really doesn’t matter whether the legend has any basis in fact - people have been sending lava rocks and sand back to the National Park for years in an attempt to make the cause of their perceived bad luck go away.

It’s acknowledged that the best way to atone for your thieving ways is to return the lava rock in person. On a return trip to Hawaii.  (That’s not such bad luck, is it?)  But then again, not all of us can drop everything and take off to Hawaii.

Lots and lots of people believe the legend.  Here’s a link to a site with loads of notes and letters that accompanied bits of rock and sand that were sent back to Hawaii in an effort to appease Pele and ask her forgiveness. 

So why do you bring us this tidbit of superstitious nonsense, Sistah Pat?  What exactly are you trying to say?  Are you saying you believe that glass jar of glittering black sand with the golden strands of Pele’s hair and the smooth, jet black stones that you use as paperweights on your desk are wreaking havoc on your life?  Could it be that you’ve decided your “I don’t believe this superstitious crap” attitude is beginning to waver?  Perhaps.  Just a bit….

I’ve got to admit things are just not going well.  Okay, I confess…I’ve taken some rocks and sand during some of our visits to Hawaii.  After all, they’re only rocks.  Right?  Cheap souvenirs.  And they’re so pretty!  The last one was taken four years ago from the side of a mountain overlooking the ocean as the current lava flow ran down the mountain to the coast where it spewed out of a lava vent and erupted into the ocean.  Hot magna exploding and pulverizing into new lava rocks that replace the old in such copious amounts that the goddess surely can’t be concerned or even aware of the little nugget I took.  Right?

Sometimes I wonder about her.  Pele.  With the way my life has been going the last few years.  What happened to the joyous empty nest DH and I had?  Plenty of money to do anything within reason.  A clean house that required only the minimum amount of effort and left us with loads of time to enjoy traveling and the fruits of our labor.  Beautiful grandkids and sons who had moved out and were ensconsed in their own roles as fathers and husbands (or significant others).  Now it just seems like nothing ever goes right.  I have this heavy black cloud hanging over me.  I have a constant sense of misgiving.  What’s going to happen next?  It’s gotten to the point where I expect bad things to happen and just keep trying to keep my head above water.

I worked all day long yesterday.  Went shopping after work Friday and spent almost $300.00 of ROTC Booster Club money to buy Angus beef burgers, buns, condiments, soft drinks, meatballs, etc. etc. for the Highview Festival yesterday.  I got there at 9:00 a.m. to find my ROTC significant other (the club president) firing up a huge grill and setting up our booth.  There was another woman there.  A parent volunteer (Yay!!!) and the three of us set to work.  Mr. President was manning the grill, I took the burgers, hot off the grill, and put them on buns, added cheese and placed them in styrofoam containers.  We didn’t want any of the kids anywhere around the grill.  One of those massive “MAN” grills that could accommodate 18 to 24 burgers and have room for a couple of turkeys on the side.  All day long, Mr. Prez grilled and dodged the flames and I did my best to package the burgers while coughing and sweating in the billowing smoke from the MAN grill.  We were GOOD!  Turning out burgers with the speed and efficiency of a well trained fast food team.  The burgers were flying and the money was coming in!  At 11:30, the cadet who was working the table (a lovely girl with four years of ROTC training behind her) told us we’d brought in $300.00!  The break even point!  At that point, things got pretty crazy.  Lunchtime hit us and we were swamped!  So much so that we had to have our adult volunteer make a burger run to GFS to buy more burgers and buns.  She got back and we were running low on cheese and soft drinks so she had to take off again.  I looked up a couple of times to see a hoard of ROTC cadets taking orders, dishing out meatballs, and handing out food to the masses.  Our volunteer returned and did her best to keep things organized and we just kept going.

Things finally settled down around 3:00 and Mr. Prez and I were able to turn around and take stock of our surroundings.  Hot, sweaty, and smelling of eau de smoke and angus beef parfum.  I headed to the portolet and he sank down in a folding chair and popped the top on a Diet Coke.  When I returned to the booth, I noticed that the cash bag was lying on the table of the booth.  Not out in plain view of the masses but still…it shouldn’t have been lying on top of the table.  Anyone could grab it and run off into the crowd.  I made the decision that I was going to take the majority of the cash out of the bag and put it in my purse for safe keeping.  I opened it up and started counting.  Two hundred and sixty seven dollars.  What????  How could that be?  I counted again and called Mr. Prez over.  He and I just kind of stared at each other with that sinking feeling slowing taking over our exhaustion.  Someone stole the money.  Doing some quick calculations, we figured we should have had at least $700.00.  And there was no way we could salvage the situation.  There were at least twenty cadets who had been milling around the booth all day.  Most of our cadets are honorable, outstanding kids who display integrity beyond their years.  They’ve been in the program for three or four years and have devoted many hours to discipline and community service.  Then again, there are those freshmen who try the program, don’t like it, and can’t wait to finish their freshman year and get out of ROTC.  I don’t know.  There were so many kids hanging around.  All day long, they showed up, worked a couple of hours and were replaced by the next shift.  Sometimes, we had as many as fifteen kids running around.

We continued selling what we had and finished the day with a total of $327.00.  Mr. Prez and I were defeated.  We usually finish with a feeling that we’re totally exhausted but we did something good for a great bunch of kids and we feel good about it.  This time, we’re left feeling like we’re to blame.  Like we should have thought about it.  Should have been on top of things better than we were.  Especially me.  I’m the treasurer, for crying out loud.  I should have kept a closer eye on the money.  I’m angry, too.  Angry that Sarge and Major showed up for about an hour, had a burger and coke and cut up with the kids for a few minutes and then disappeared.  Angry that more parents can’t be bothered to volunteer an hour or two of their time to help out.  Angry that a wonderful group of kids have to learn a nasty life lesson.  Of course, we talked to the kids.  Like deer in the headlights.  They didn’t know anything.  I think most of them would have reported any suspicious behavior they observed but they were just as disappointed and shocked as Mr. Prez and I.  He and I talked about it.  I don’t know what we could have done differently.  We certainly couldn’t have the kids anywhere around that massive, red hot grill.  I could have run over to the booth occasionally and taken the bulk of the money for safe keeping but I just didn’t think of it.  I just didn’t.  I wouldn’t dream of stealing and neither would most people.  We’re just not used to worrying about thieves and other nasties.  I don’t think I’ve ever stolen anything, except a couple of lava rocks and a handful of black sand.

Maybe I should send my rocks back to Hawaii….