Before cats, I shared my bedroom with birds

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My first pet was a parakeet. I named him “Jimmy” after my favorite uncle, my mother’s brother.

I don’t remember how old I was when my mother brought Jimmy home. My mother’s dog died not long after my 5th birthday, so I’m guessing my first parakeet appeared not long afterwards, when I was in the first grade. Initially Jimmy was quite scared and stayed in safety of the cage. But I spent a lot of time and, before too long, he was happy to hop onto my finger. Then he was able to come out of the bird cage and hang out on a parakeet play pen, shown in this photo with a second parakeet added later to the mix. She was blue. Her name was “Ipo.”

Looking back, the parakeets were obviously part of a broader lesson in responsibility. They depended on me to make sure they had food, water, and cuttle bone to chew on, and to clean their cage regularly and sweep up around it. This marked a different kind of task, different from being told to take out the trash. That was just a job I was assigned. But with the birds, if I didn’t do take care of them, they would suffer, directly and immediately. I can recall it sometimes feeling like a burden, but then Jimmy and Ipo would be there to interact with me, and the burden would quickly lift. It was an important lesson, although I’m sure my mother hovered in the background ready to step in if I neglected my responsibilities more than occasionally.

My first Jimmy died, and was buried in a shoebox filled with soft tissue paper just outside my parent’s bedroom on the side of our house. I recall that being a very solemn occasion, a lesson about death and dying.

That was some 70 years ago. But now, likely in a total coincidence, there is a small ti plant growing in about that same spot. But it’s no longer outside my parents’ bedroom, because it’s now our bedroom.

And after the parakeet “funeral”, he was replaced by Jimmy 2, another green male.

I remember that at some point my mother attached a nesting box to their cage, and I have vague memories of peeking into the box and seeing a few eggs. But I don’t remember baby parakeets emerging. Certainly that would have been a lasting memory.

And, what’s worse, I don’t recall when or how my parakeet period ended. Did they die? Were they given away? Why can’t I remember any of the circumstances? Is the lack of memory because it was somewhat traumatic for me? I just don’t know. Or, more properly, I don’t recall.

Chemo and immunotherapy start next week

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I just learned my chemotherapy and immunotherapy are scheduled to begin Monday morning, with check-in at 8:45 a.m. at the Queen’s Cancer Clinic in the Kuakini Medical Building (the earlier version of this post erred by describing the Queen’s location for tomorrow’s placement of a chest port, which is at the front of my mind right how, but not the location where I’ll be getting chemo).

On Wednesday, in preparation, I have a zoom video appointment with an Advanced Practice Registered Nurse from my oncologists office to go over what to expect during chemo. It’s also my chance to ask any remaining questions or seek further information about, well, just about anything.

I have practical things to figure out. Scheduling rides to and from the chemo infusion sessions, for example. Uber and Lyft will take care of the rest.

What should I bring to pass the time during the long 5-6 hour infusion sessions? Should I bring snacks? What do I need to bring to stay comfortable during each session?

And, I wonder, when I can expect side effects to kick in. Are they likely to start immediately? Later after I get home?

What’s the chance that I’ll escape any very unpleasant side effects?

Lots of questions occurring to me now, so I’ll make a list for reference during tomorrow’s call.

And I’ve heard from several people who are anxious to share lessons from their own experiences.

Another flashback to Kahala Elementary

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Okay, here’s another one from an old photo album. It’s the “official” photo of my 5th grade class at Kahala elementary School in 1958. Our teacher was Mrs. Lau.

This is a repeat of a post that first appeared here almost 12 years ago.

The terrible thing is that I don’t have any recollection, good or bad, of Mrs. Lau. That contrasts with my vivid memory of Miss Yamasaki, my 6th grade teacher, who told me I would “never amount to anything” because I was lazy and didn’t work hard on my homework. She was right on the last count. I was bored and didn’t spend much time on homework. But I was avidly reading and asking questions about how things work that my mother would deflect by pointing to the set of World Book encyclopedias where I was supposed to look up the answers. And, as I recall, I did. But homework? Not so much.

But back to the class photo. I’ve attached the somewhat incomplete list my mother typed at the time identifying most students in the class. She luckily saved it with the photo, and I found it many years later. .

I’m sure you can find me without resorting to the crib sheet. Or can you?

And maybe someone knows others whose names are missing? If so, share some info about them, please.

Click on the photo to see a larger version.



1958