Hawaii officially became this great nation's 50th state 50 years ago today.
In March 1959 both houses of Congress passed the Hawaii Admissions Act. The voters in Hawaii approved a referendum endorsing the statehood bill in June, and President Eisenhower declared Hawaii a state on August 21, 1959. (The referendum was subsequently criticized because Hawaiians were not offered the option of voting for independence, thereby ignoring controversy surrounding the legality of Hawaii's previous annexation by the United States.)
The haoles at Pacific Standard love Hawaii for many reasons, but most importantly because it is the beautiful home of some of our oldest and dearest friends.
. A small selection of photos from our recent exploits – click to enlarge:
Belltown, Downtown Seattle
The barrel of a Disappearing Gun at Fort Casey, on Whidbey Island. My Great Grandpa Owen grew up on the Muskogee Reservation in Oklahoma, joined the military, and was stationed here in the early 1900s. Later on he was a beat cop in Georgetown. More on Owen and Fort Casey and the notorious Triangle of Fire in a later post.
Emily at Ebey's Bluff, Whidbey Island. Finally got around to it – we were going to walk along this trail last November but it was too foggy to see anything.
A chart explaining the different ships that pass through the Straits of Juan de Fuca on the way in and out of Puget Sound, including but not limited to a Sloop and a Yawl.
Rig full of trophies
Jason and Emily with one of Jason's chickens. This one has furry feet.
bok-bok
Dude I was talking to on the way to work the other day
My brother Sky, his girlfriend Daniela, and Emily at the Cappy last week.
Three-quarter length portrait of Jack Binnes, wireless operator, using a telegraph machine at a desk in a room in Chicago, Illinois. Chicago Daily News negatives collection, DN-0054177. Courtesy of the Chicago Historical Society.
I love Ben Schott's column on the op-ed page of today's New York Times. Mr. Miscellany notes that the "restrictions on articulation" imposed by Twitter's 140-character (and SMS's 160-character) limits are nothing new, having been preceded in the 19th century by privacy and cost concerns associated with sending telegrams (telegraph carriers apparently often charged more for words longer than 15 characters or for telegrams longer than 10 words). These concerns led to the spread of telegram code books, which contained lists of various phrases reduced to a single word.
Telegraph machine in operation at The New York Herald in 1900.
Just looking at the examples Schott provides from The Anglo-American Telegraphic Code, published in 1891, provides a pretty good sense of what America was like at that point in time. I mean, a society that constructs shorthand for phrases like "A battle is reported to have begun" ("Barracan"), "The prisoner(s) will probably be condemned" ("Confuter"), and "You must send my allowance immediately" ("Amphimacer") only exists at a very particular time and place in history. A few more examples below; see the whole list here.
Abandonee: Abandoned in a sinking condition. Capriped: Cattle are scarce. Cuish: A crisis seems to be approaching. Crisp: Can you recommend to me a good female cook? Decemvir: Has been dead a long time. Dews: Destroyed by a cyclone. Emication: The epidemic has broken out again. Foretold: Abundant reason to be frightened. Geyser: Do not pay in gold. Hurst: The hunting expedition will not set out. Panel: Stocks have reached panic prices. And, my personal favorite: Orangeman: What is the opinion on the street?
Also this, while we're on the subject of words and 19th-century America:
. Last week I took a quick overnight trip to my parents' place in Northern Idaho. I wanted to see the progress on the farm house, and my mom offered to send me back with some homemade strawberry jam – their little patch produced a bumper crop this year and they have more berries than they know what to do with. I couldn't say no to that.
On the road. For the most part the drive from Seattle to Moscow is really scenic, although the stretch across Eastern Washington from Othello to Washtucna can get monotonous – it's pretty much flat and dry as far as the eye can see, with some green here and there thanks to intermittent irrigation. But this time of year the air is full of the smell of fresh spearmint and drying hay, which provides it own kind of sensory enjoyment.
Everything is much drier at the farm than the last time we visited, but it's still beautiful. The garden is coming along nicely. It's also been a good year for asparagus; my parents have been eating it for about two months now, much to my dad's dismay.
The bees are safely ensconced in their new home at the corner of the orchard.
A family of ducks has taken up permanent residence at the pond. I startled a little one when I walked up to the water's edge – it made a beeline for the cattails at the other side while one of its parents created an impressive distraction, quacking and splashing around.
Grasshoppers are creepy but I have to admit that they're kind of cute when they're small and green.
The additions to the house are starting to take shape.
The view onto the screen porch from what will be the dining room.
The old roof makes it look as if Gordon Matta-Clark has been lurking about.
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The view from inside, upstairs. The builders just cut a big slice out of the second story, and they're going to drop the trusses right in there. I had no idea what a roof truss was before this (they look like this):
Watching this whole thing come together has been an education.
We picked about 2 dozen pints of strawberries.
After that it was Miller Time.
The freezer-jam-making operation took place the next morning. I left for Seattle with my booty that afternoon.
Some samples of the finished, frosty product.
Freezer jam uses fresh, rather than cooked, berries, so the end result has much more flavor and color. Not bad for a few hours' effort, and I'm set for hostess gifts for the rest of the summer.
Snoqualmie Falls. Way too crowded but still cool to see.
My buddy Jason at Big Green Egg-fest '09. That nugget on the toothpick is a little smokey and cream cheese in a half-jalapeño, wrapped in bacon.
My dad's truck in front of Oddfellows.
More of this guy.
There are a lot of little stickers, paste-ups, etc. around the world but for whatever reason I really like this character – if anyone knows who it is, let me know.
Emily at Greg Kucera Gallery yesterday (thank you for the reminder General Bonkers). Show closes Saturday – see it if you can, it's really good.
Rodriguez afternoon show at the Triple Door. (Hear it at KEXP.)
Everyone hates on crows because of their laid-back freegan lifestyle. I actually am kind of a fan – they're beautiful when you look at them up close. This one was taking a bath in a puddle of water near my office this morning.
. I find I often have mixed feelings about our new place in Seattle. We (both human and feline residents) really loved our apartment in Brooklyn with all of its crazy old details and ramshackle backyard, and sometimes I think it's strange that we came back West in large part so that we could enjoy the outdoors more, and then proceeded to move into a place that has no outdoor space whatsoever – not a yard, or even a balcony. But there are also days, like last Friday, when I walk into the living room at sunset and catch the view.
On these days I explain to Mr. Littlejeans and Inez that it's okay if we have to put off that backyard vegetable garden and chicken coop for just a little while longer.
Pacific Standard issue no.1 covers: top, Abby Brothers by Michael Donovan; bottom, Alexis Schuster by Charlie Schuck. Select image above for more information.
Image via haolegirlinhawaii
In March 1959 both houses of Congress passed the Hawaii Admissions
Fireworks at Waikiki Beach, Honolulu, July 2007
