Irmalee Louise Jones Walker

 

 

I first met my grandma before I was old enough to start forming memories. She and my auntie Janice flew out to Hilo, Hawai'i when I was just about two weeks old. She loved telling me the story again and again about how during their stay, at dinner the entertainment host asked for the oldest person in the room to come up to the stage. Then when he asked for the youngest, Janice stood and lifted me up and said, "Here she is!"

Looking back, I think the reason my grandma loved telling me that story so much is because that was the moment that Irmalee Louise Jones Walker - already a devoted wife and mother of four, a retired career woman and former mayor, a true friend and dear sister, a community servant and all around beautiful class act of a lade - that was the moment she became what she always made me to feel, was the proudest role of her life - a grandma! You see, from the moment she flew across an ocean 30 years ago to welcome her first grandchild to the world, to her move to Bishop after my cousin Ali was born, to her final trip to Hawai'i for my sister's doctoral graduation - she devoted the later part of her life to making sure us granddaughters knew just how much we were loved.

She and my grandpa came to Kona every spring during my childhood for us to spend Spring Break with them. They taught us how to swim, how to play cribbage, gin, hearts, poker... "Ante and you won't be so rich," my grandpa would always say.

My sister and I were fortunate enough to also spend summers in California with our grandparents, first in Bellflower, then later in Bishop. It was in Bishop that at the age of 14 my grandma took me for my first driving lesson. "Just don't tell your grandpa," she said. "This is against the law."

My grandmother taught us how to cook, how to sew, how to play the piano. I distinctly remember the day she sat us down at the dining room table and spent an hour showing us which utensils went where and the proper way to pass the serving plates.

More significantly though, she and my grandpa taught us the importance of an education, the importance of independently following your dreams, and most of all, the importance of family. When I look around at my sister and cousin, my dad and my aunties, not only have we all graduated from college, traveled the world, and went off to do whatever called each of us, but through it all we have remained a unit. We laugh together, cry together, get in incredible arguments and debates like only a Walker knows how - yet still, always a family. And for that I am eternally grateful to both my grandmother and grandfather.

Today, we honor Irmalee Louise Jones Walker and the legacy she left behind. Where ever you are, grandma, you should be very proud. I know I am.

(from Memorial Service April 11, 2015)

my best friend's birthday

dear elena,

i still have the journal you sent with me when i left to college!

in the opening letter you said "i want you to write about all the raging nights, hook ups, bummers, horny thoughts, irritating roommates, and day dreams you have in santa barbara, and always start your entry off as dear elena, so when you come back we can read it together..."

my first entry back to you on the plane to cali in aug 2003:

"this is so hard, man. i always wondered about this day and would day dream about this hot local boy i would leave behind. but i finally get it. i was meant to be a friend in high school. it has taught me how to love and even how not to. i feel so content right now. my best friends were who i was meant to see off. you see, you guys all had boys to give your hearts to. i got to love you girls. i wouldn't change it for anything."

--

you have been one of my very very best friends for over 10 years. my beautiful, crazy, free spirit of a sister. a love like ours doesn't come around in every life time. i hope this day brings you all the luck, love, and light you've given me over the years!

be gooood :)

not beautiful or remarkable things...just things

my mentor sent me a writing prompt a few weeks ago: write down 6 things you see each day, then at the end of one week, compose a poem out of two of those things. the lesson being that poets, and artists in general, should strive to be "more attuned to the physical world and to find concrete things that possess a special vibrancy" (Linda Gregg, "The Art of Finding"), then incorporate these things into their craft.

over the course of a couple weeks, here is what i came up with:

july 11:

earrings
freeway signs
glass jar
turquoise
tea
sunflower

july 25: 

tests
stripes
my reflection
bangle
laughing baby
toes

july 26:

man sitting on sidewalk
new haircut
stress
style
leaves
relief

so i only did it on three of the days, but i did manage to use all the words in my newest attempt and literary creativity...

the things i see each day

as i drive along the highway,
i roll the window down to feel
the breeze of time passing.
a wild wind whips through
and my earrings sing a song
of pennies dropping into a glass jar.
freeway signs point to places
i'll never see,
fields of sunflowers
i'll never know.
white clouds paint stripes across a turquoise sky
as i cease to cease.

my reflection in the windshield,
a loose reminder
of what once was--
a laughing baby with squishy toes
turned adolescent with body woes.

and now i fight the tests of my twenties
by speeding faster
in search of relief.
i chase change with a new style,
new haircut, new shoes
a new bangle filled with jewels.
beautiful objects,
permanent as leaves on a growing tree.

when i finally exit
this whirlwind
wind of a road,
in search of a cure to my saturated stress,
i see a man sitting on the sidewalk.
living in his permanent present,
his sign reads:
a quarter for a cup of tea

...

interesting how the little things we see each day, ultimately paint the big picture of our world. what did you see today?

maya, may i

Maya, may I have this dance
to shake my rhythm hips
and speak my lyric lips;
to be everything it is
that I feel,
everything that I am.

Maya, may I grow
from the roots of my toes
to the leaves of my finger tips,
knowledge constantly pulsing.
Maya, may I never forget
always, there is something to learn.

Maya, may I cease to judge,
may I remember 
our individually colored threads
weave one beautiful
tapestry of humanity.

Maya, may I be strong enough
to not only attempt,
but to achieve;
and be brave enough 
to face the falls.
And rise again.

Maya, may I? 

            You may not--you will, as we all will.

And we all will.

I had the privilege and pleasure to go to a speaking by Dr. Maya Angelou earlier this month. Inspiring might only begin to describe the experience. Above I pay homage to just a few of the jewels I took--and continue to take--away from her lecture. Her life and body of work is tangible proof that any human being can achieve excellence. Any human being. And if we allow ourselves. . .we all will.