‘Ua  (Rain)

by Tom Conger

Tom Conger is a kama’aina haole (Hawai’i-born White) who has lived and worked many places, but still has his roots firmly embedded in volcanic soil in the mid-Pacific.  A published author, he graciously shares his skills and insights with his companions in retirement.

Rain. Windless rain came down in heavy globules, too big for drops, and rumbled onto the metal roof. The sky had darkened long before the first scant spatters, which began slowly—almost hesitant—then swelled in volume, pouring straight down, a good soaking certain. It was the kind of rain that falls seemingly unbidden from the clouds, not the pounding thunder showers which seem expelled by force; this was more a build-up which could no longer be contained, falling gravity-bound through the murky half-light to puddle resolutely in the gravel.

I didn’t used to like rain—always preventing something I wanted to do, or make, or plant. Upcountry life changes all that—too little water, too many farms. The power brokers in Wailuku use water to impose their dominion over honest citizens: “No meter, no permit,” they de­cree, as they jealously hoard the meters—almost a punitive reign of dictators. We ran the last one out; she couldn’t understand the “ser­vice” part of public service. But the bureaucrats railroaded in her successor—one more of the same. So we must rely on the rainfall to keep the pastures green.

Now I like a good downpour, having done too often without rain—an artless commodity, so precious, so restoring, so intractable. I had transplanted some poha shoots; they’ll welcome getting drenched. The night-blooming cereus is hardly ever thirsty—it’s really a cactus after all—but will take what it’s given, as will the dandelions and crabgrass. The rain’s not choosy; it even soaks the one-eyed cat, rushing back to the house from an afternoon hunt amongst the coffee trees. He licks my hand as I dry him off.

The rain dwindles, then stops. The sky brightens. The clouds be­come distinct, each defined by golden trim.

I look up from towelling the kitty. “Thanks,” I say, “we needed that.”

(Nit Wit Newz is an unauthorized, often unreliable, on-line news source designed to keep Manor residents abreast of the inconsequential, trifling and superficial events that dramatically shape and inform our everyday lives here at Rogue Valley Manor.                                                                                                                                    

 Ed Note:  our roving correspondent has returned to campus, but we continue to receive bulletins from our far-flung news services.  We may have to fling this one a little farther next time.

PLAZA REVAMP PLAN STIRS RIFTS

           Defending Design Decisions

Residents, dining committee, interior designer at loggerheads on Plaza re-do. Sticking points abound. Should room centerpiece be movable orchid planter, or tasteful sarcophagus?  Should restaurant model be “The French Laundry,” or a K-12 cafeteria?  For walls and ceilings, some favor muted earth tones, others lean toward a monochromatic fifty-shades-of-gray.

Many fear proposed demise of banquettes and Friendship tables. Claim proponents have bias against comfortable seating and good fellowship. Outraged proponents deny charge. Disagreements spread to rotunda and restrooms as well.

Meanwhile, as disputes fester, thirty-seven sub-committees have rapidly formed to hammer out disagreements.

First sub-committee report disappointing:  Table Linen panel deadlocked on napkin fabric. Group may be sequestered until concurrence reached.

Some early progress reported.  Leak from Beverage Container Committee meeting claims proposed replacement of stem ware with Tippy Sippy Cups has been nixed.

Dining Services Committee urging rapid resolution of all sub-committee disputes.  Seek to avoid threatened large-scale food fights among increasingly militant factions.

Stay tuned.

—A. Looney

by Tom Conger

            Tom Conger

Moving on in the world of words, we offer more amusing contrivances which may or may not be in the common lexicon. For this installment we are indebted to Weird And Wonderful Words edited by Erin McKean (illustrations by the estimable Roz Chast), Oxford University Press 2003.

You may want to designate this writer as a nihilarian – a person who deals with things of no importance . . .
batie-bummil – a useless bungler (obsolete Scottish word) – (see: this writer…)

bromatology – a treatise on food, the kind of cookbook with recipes for food that is good for you, instead of food you actually want to eat. (bromo, btw, is Greek root for food)

cockagrice – “an unappetizing dish (to modern palates) made of an old cock and a pig boiled and roasted together.” Grice = old word for pig. (not sure if the recipe could be found in your kitchen bromatology…)

longicorn – “a kind of beetle with very long antennae, The word comes from Latin words meaning ‘long’ and ‘horn,’ and it is a good example of a word with a perfectly serviceable etymology that still sounds made-up.”

nippitate – obscure word meaning “good strong ale,” sometimes found with faux Latin endings such as nippitatum and nippitati—but rarely found in modern discourse (nor saloons) . . .

pishachi – “a female devil or ghost, especially one that dislikes travelers and pregnant women.” These rarely beset RVM residents, but we suspect possible connection of the latter propensity to current shelter-in-place strictures . . .

snollygoster – “a dishonest politician [possibly redundant], especially a shrewd or calculating one.* A connection has been proposed between this word and snallygaster, a mythical monster in Maryland invented to frighten freed slaves. However, the first evidence for snallygaster follows snollygoster by about a hundred years…” but thought you oughta know.
*(see exauctorate – “to depose or oust from office, to deprive of authority”—from the Latin)

woofits – “an unwell feeling, especially a headache; a moody depression; a hangover. In one citation this is called ‘that dread disease that comes from overeating and underdrinking”… possible connections with the year 2020 have not been ruled out . . .

Readers are encouraged to submit to The Complement their own weird/wonderful selections, including any which they may have made up themselves