Just A Note For Bruce Jewett

Juice! Imagine to my surprise upon turning off Magnolia onto Second Street at the picnic-table-n-bench filled yard of Celery City Craft (beer) I saw the food truck appellated “Haole & Ono.”  Oh, boy! Malasadas and saimin as from that little shop around the corner from Foster Towers on Kalakaua across the street from Waikiki.  My drool turned to full cataract.

So I appended the question mark to my upwardtilting “Malasadas” to a youngish White chub working the breakfast condiment table.  He turned to look at me and by his expression I knew he would not know the answer to my next question: “Where’s The Haole?”

“What?”

OK, I broke into my patter – interrupt at any time I sideswiped: A Haole is a white guy. A malasada is a squared – unholed – Portuguese doughnut deep fried and called by the cognoscenti Heaven’s Pillow.

He shook his head parallel to Earth.  My dad and I rent this truck to make breakfast here Saturday mornings, he explained.  The garden gate of Celery City was open and breakers of fast were in full-shovel.

One block over on Magnolia Square was the full-swing set-up for Saturday Farmer’s (Ha!) Market which draws goodly crowds – if not so discriminating as to notice the Publix crates from which the veggies are pulled to place artfully on breakdown tables.

So, my friend Phat Phrog: no malasadas or saimin and no Kanakas.  My world diminisheth. And yours?

As a side note: whilst reading In the Heart of Darkness by Eric Flint and David Drake early-on I came across this – thus:

The conquerer legendary general of India facing the visiting Roman General – whom both know they are fated to face each other in combat – tells of a great battle out of Vedic folklore wherein one whole book is devoted that some 18 million common soldiers died. And not one of those common men’s names, the honorable Malwa general-and-king – continues is not recorded at all.

Pretty much sums up war from a Snuffy’s perspective, no?

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