"Don't get fat..." 'Bettejo Dux' (Classic Wednesdays)

Guest-blogger Bettejo Dux is one of Kauai's most colorful people, she has lived on the cosmic island of Kaua'i for over 40 years... She is an animal lover, people lover and enjoys life to the fullest.Today she guest blogs about  listening to your body's needs and staying trim.  Enjoy... She also  publishes her own blog column.

You can check it out at ;  http://www.bettejo.wordpress.com .   Besides her blog she recently published and authored the humorous fiction book, "The Scam," check it out at(www.bettejodux.com) or  on Amazon.

DON’T GET FAT

Fat’s s all over the news. It’s all over the place. Even Michelle speaks about it. Walk through any American city, any town, any street, and you’ll see them, the grotesques. Waddlers. Not just adults. Kids. This is not normal body fat, this is outrageous, disgusting, sick American fat and I think one can assume they all have heads to match.
On our discussion site on Kauai we have one very cranky gentleman who is overweight and suffers from hypoglycemia. Why is that?  Is it a disease? We know  his grumpy attitude is a  dysfunction. What is he doing wrong? What does his doctor say?
I have a theory . Many, if not most, of these poor people are starving to death. What? Starving? Look how fat they are. Starving people are skin and bones, we've seen them in third world countries; and  that’s a bit like saying, “What global warming? Look how cold it is. See the snow.”
The kind of fat/starvation I’m talking about is often caused by a lack of money, just as in third world countries, but here, with some paper in their pockets, people buy cheap, fast foods. Fill the belly. Stuff the junk in the  mouth. Chew. Swallow. Go to McWhoever’s and buy a cheap hamburger-with a bite of lettuce-for a couple of those long green paper things. Bread and beef fills their belly's- that’s for sure, look at them- and they’re starving. Their bodies are screaming for food. More food. Feed me. Buy a Twinkie. Grab a soft drink. Ease the pain of starvation.
Every body has nutritional needs. Not just a need to fill the belly, and, if these nutritional needs are not met, the body screams for it. But it doesn't say to the poor suffering victim of fat/starvation, “I need some B vitamins. I need some A. I need some C.” Well it does, actually, but the poor starving fellow doesn't get it. Doesn't hear it. He just stuffs some more stuff in his mouth, chews and swallows, and goes back for more.
How many of you eat microwave dinners?  Some quite delicious. Some quite expensive. Some even organic, so the label says. The label on the box lists all the vitamins, all the good stuff, but did you ever stop to read the fat content? Some of those ‘healthy choice’ boxes of stuff contain 30% saturated fat! Saturated fat! About the unhealthiest stuff you can stuff in your mouth, chew, stuff in your belly and-boy oh boy-watch that part of your anatomy bulge up a storm of sickness.
The answer? Find out what your body needs. In Adelle’s book, LET’S GET WELL,  in many books about nutrition, in the index you will find many obvious physical and emotional symptoms of vitamin deficiencies. Your body’s telling you something. Listen. Learn.  Don’t fall for fads. Or pills. If you fill your nutritional needs you won’t feel hunger. You can eat less. Be well fed and grow thin. Honest.

Bettejo has a blog of her own you can check out at ; http://www.bettejo.wordpress.com  


Editor's note, Dakinetalk guest bloggers do not necessarily represent the opinions of dakinetalk. Guest bloggers are given space to express their beliefs and or opinions. We feel there are many roads and like to give people space to express their thoughts,after-all that's what dakine is...Aloha, James "Kimo" Rosen, Publisher.


http://www.bettejodux.com/



"The Night Nurse..." 'Marvin Gross' (Source)

Marvin Gross a financial planner and consultant  from Western N.Y. is back guest-blogging with another hilarious joke about the night nurse, enjoy!

A very tired nurse walks into a bank, totally exhausted after an 18-hour shift. Preparing to write a check, she pulls a rectal thermometer out of her purse and tries to write with it. When she realizes her mistake, she looks at the flabbergasted teller, and without missing a beat, she says:  

    'Well, that's great....that's just great..........some assholes got my pen!'

The opinions, beliefs and viewpoints expressed by the various authors and forum participants on this blog site do not necessarily reflect the opinions, beliefs and viewpoints of the Publisher of Dakinetalk the blog, but they could? ;D)

If you would like to express yourself about any subject you feel passionate about, please  feel free to submit a guest blog to dakinetalk. Please limit guest blogs between 200-500 words, along with a short bio and photo of yourself. Send all blog submissions to; jrsensei@hotmail.com  who knows your blog could go viral!

"I need vacation time..." 'Judith Whitehead' (Inspiration Monday)

"Guest-blogger Judith Whitehead lives in Amherst N.Y. and has worked in the ophthalmology field of medicine for over 30 years..." She talks today about the need to escape... Enjoy...



 "I NEED VACATION TIME TO PREPARE FOR MY VACATION..."

          I am about to go on  a vacation across the country for a few weeks; the anticipation is mounting day by day for I haven't had any time off for a year and desperately need some. 

My work days are full of responsibilities both personal and professional and I start the day at 5AM.  I have been spending the last few days making lists of what needs to be taken care of while I'm gone.  What I realized is that it takes a "village" to cover my duties while I am away...everything from taking care of my elderly parent to plant care, mail duty, clothing inventory for travel, medication stock up, travel arrangements, car / hotel rental and arrangements etc. 

My vacation will start from the moment I step foot on that plane for I will probably fall asleep as soon as the plane takes off, as it is a 7am flight...

I have found that vacations  are not restful when visiting family and friends.  Some day I hope to take some time and go to a quiet Island where I know no one and just chill-ax.

Editor's note, Dakinetalk guest bloggers do not necessarily represent the opinions of dakinetalk. Guest bloggers are given space to express their beliefs and or opinions. We feel there are many roads and like to give people space to express their thoughts,after-all that's what dakine is...Aloha, James "Kimo" Rosen, Publisher

"Phone books ain't what they used to be..." 'James "Kimo" Rosen'

Spend more time outdoors in da garden than playing around with electronic devices... Aloha check out my opinion article in the  (12-02-12) edition of the  Kauai garden Island news, "Phone Books are a thing of the past..." same article as this blog!

http://thegardenisland.com/news/opinion/mailbag/letters-for-sunday-dec/article_604f3396-3c61-11e2-bb57-0019bb2963f4.html

Once upon a time the phonebook was the who's  who's of everyone in any given town anywhere. Fast forward to the 21st century with the advent of cellular phones, ipods, computers,magic-jack and Skype.

Phonebooks only list people with landlines,however cellphones, skype, magic jack and computer listings are not in the phonebook. Most listings posted in phonebooks are  either senior citizens like myself or commercial business's.

Phonebook listings are shrinking just as many parts of my anatomy. Many   whom still posses landlines are requesting non listed numbers.

I remember when I got my first phone and my name was in the phone-book, it was the unwritten coming of age.  Phonebooks were also used for short people making speeches and for the short boy  being photographed with a tall girlfriend, by  standing  on a phonebook  it gave the feeling of security, now phonebooks are like the dinosaurs of the past. 

 Social networking, cell phones,  texting and emails  have taken the place of landlines as phonebooks  graciously  and slowly phase themselves out of existence. All I can say is, "what's a short boy to do?"
http://thegardenisland.com/news/opinion/mailbag/letters-for-sunday-dec/article_604f3396-3c61-11e2-bb57-0019bb2963f4.html


Editor's note, Dakinetalk guest bloggers do not necessarily represent the opinions of dakinetalk. Guest bloggers are given space to express their beliefs and or opinions. We feel there are many roads and like to give people space to express their thoughts,after-all that's what dakine is...Aloha, James "Kimo" Rosen, Publisher.

"The Fence..." 'Chester "Unc" Lau' (Source)

Chester "Unc" Lau a frequent contributor to dakinetalk is the source of this tearjerker story. Unc is a  retired cinematographer  living his golden years on  the island of Oahu. "Unc served in the Korean war and is an advocate for the naturist lifestyle.

The sky was gloomy that morning as we waited anxiously.

All the men, women and children of Piotrkow's Jewish ghetto

had been herded into a square.

Word had gotten around that we were being moved. My father

had only recently died from typhus, which had run rampant

through the crowded ghetto. My greatest fear was that our

family would be separated.

'Whatever you do,' Isidore, my eldest brother, whispered to me,

'don't tell them your age. Say you're sixteen.

'I was tall for a boy of 11, so I could pull it off. That way I might

be deemed valuable as a worker.

An SS man approached me, boots clicking against the cobblestones.

He looked me up and down, and then asked my age.

'Sixteen,' I said. He directed me to the left, where my three brothers

and other healthy young men already stood.

My mother was motioned to the right with the other women, children,

sick and elderly people.

I whispered to Isidore, 'Why?'

He didn't answer.

I ran to Mama's side and said I wanted to stay with her.

'No, 'she said sternly.

'Get away. Don't be a nuisance. Go with your brothers.'

She had never spoken so harshly before. But I understood:

She was protecting me. She loved me so much that, just this once,

she pretended not to. It was the last I ever saw of her.

My brothers and I were transported in a cattle car to Germany .

We arrived at the Buchenwald concentration camp one night later

and were led into a crowded barrack. The next day, we were issued

uniforms and identification numbers.

'Don't call me Herman anymore.' I said to my brothers. 'Call me

94983.'

I was put to work in the camp's crematorium, loading the dead

into a hand-cranked elevator.

I, too, felt dead. Hardened, I had become a number.

Soon, my brothers and I were sent to Schlieben, one of Buchenwald 's

sub-camps near Berlin ..

One morning I thought I heard my mother's voice.

'Son,' she said softly but clearly, I am going to send you an angel.'

Then I woke up. Just a dream. A beautiful dream.

But in this place there could be no angels. There was only work.

And hunger. And fear.

A couple of days later, I was walking around the camp, around the

barracks, near the barbed-wire fence where the guards could not

easily see. I was alone.

On the other side of the fence, I spotted someone: a little girl with

light,almost luminous curls. She was half-hidden behind a birch tree.

I glanced around to make sure no one saw me. I called to her softly in

German. 'Do you have something to eat?'

She didn't understand.

I inched closer to the fence and repeated the question in Polish.

She stepped forward. I was thin and gaunt, with rags wrapped around

my feet, but the girl looked unafraid. In her eyes, I saw life.

She pulled an apple from her woolen jacket and threw it over the

fence.

I grabbed the fruit and, as I started to run away, I heard her say

faintly,

'I'll see you tomorrow.'

I returned to the same spot by the fence at the same time every day.

She was always there with something for me to eat - a hunk of bread

or,

better yet, an apple.

We didn't dare speak or linger. To be caught would mean death

for us both.

I didn't know anything about her, just a kind farm girl, except that

she understood Polish. What was her name?

Why was she risking her life for me?

Hope was in such short supply, and this girl on the other side of the

fence gave me some, as nourishing in its way as the bread and apples.

Nearly seven months later, my brothers and I were crammed into a

coal car and shipped to Theresienstadt camp in Czechoslovakia ..

'Don't return,' I told the girl that day. 'We're leaving.'

I turned toward the barracks and didn't look back, didn't even say

good-bye to the little girl whose name I'd never learned,

the girl with the apples.

We were in Theresienstadt for three months. The war was winding down

and Allied forces were closing in, yet my fate seemed sealed.

On May 10, 1945, I was scheduled to die in the gas chamber at 10:00

AM.

In the quiet of dawn, I tried to prepare myself. So many times death

seemed ready to claim me, but somehow I'd survived. Now, it was over.

I thought of my parents. At least, I thought, we will be reunited.

But at 8 A .M. there was a commotion. I heard shouts, and saw people

running every which way through camp. I caught up with my brothers.

Russian troops had liberated the camp! The gates swung open.

Everyone was running, so I did too. Amazingly, all of my brothers

had survived;

I'm not sure how. But I knew that the girl with the apples had been

the key to my survival.

In a place where evil seemed triumphant, one person's goodness had

saved my life, had given me hope in a place where there was none.

My mother had promised to send me an angel, and the angel had come.

Eventually I made my way to England where I was sponsored by a

Jewish charity, put up in a hostel with other boys who had survived

the Holocaust and trained in electronics. Then I came to America ,

where my brother Sam had already moved. I served in the U. S. Army

during the Korean War, and returned to New York City after two years.

By August 1957 I'd opened my own electronics repair shop.

I was starting to settle in.

One day, my friend Sid who I knew from England called me.

'I've got a date. She's got a Polish friend. Let's double date.'

A blind date? Nah, that wasn't for me.

But Sid kept pestering me, and a few days later we headed up to the

Bronx to pick up his date and her friend Roma.

I had to admit, for a blind date this wasn't so bad. Roma was a nurse

at a Bronx hospital. She was kind and smart. Beautiful, too,

with swirling brown curls and green, almond-shaped eyes that

sparkled with life.

The four of us drove out to Coney Island . Roma was easy to talk to,

easy to be with.

Turned out she was wary of blind dates too!

We were both just doing our friends a favor. We took a stroll on the

boardwalk, enjoying the salty Atlantic breeze, and then had dinner by

the shore. I couldn't remember having a better time.

We piled back into Sid's car, Roma and I sharing the backseat.

As European Jews who had survived the war, we were aware that much

had been left unsaid between us. She broached the subject,

'Where were you,' she asked softly, 'during the war?'

'The camps,' I said. The terrible memories still vivid, the

irreparable loss..I had tried to forget. But you can never forget.

She nodded. 'My family was hiding on a farm in Germany ,

not far from Berlin ,' she told me. 'My father knew a priest,

and he got us Aryan papers.'

I imagined how she must have suffered too, fear, a constant companion.

And yet here we were both survivors, in a new world.

'There was a camp next to the farm.' Roma continued. 'I saw a boy

there and I would throw him apples every day.'

What an amazing coincidence that she had helped some other boy.

'What did he look like? I asked.

'He was tall, skinny, and hungry. I must have seen him every day

for six months.'

My heart was racing. I couldn't believe it.

This couldn't be.

'Did he tell you one day not to come back because he was leaving

Schlieben?'

Roma looked at me in amazement. 'Yes!'

'That was me!'

I was ready to burst with joy and awe, flooded with emotions.

I couldn't believe it! My angel.

'I'm not letting you go.' I said to Roma. And in the back of the car

on that blind date, I proposed to her. I didn't want to wait.

'You're crazy!' she said. But she invited me to meet her parents for

Shabbat dinner the following week.

There was so much I looked forward to learning about Roma,

but the most important things I always knew: her steadfastness,

her goodness. For many months, in the worst of circumstances,

she had come to the fence and given me hope. Now that I'd found

her again, I could never let her go.

That day, she said yes. And I kept my word. After nearly 50 years

of marriage, two children and three grandchildren, I have never let

her go. (story by Herman Rosenblat)

Epilogue, by James "Kimo" Rosen

"I have seen this email circulating for many years, and it has always brought tears to my eyes as one of the coolest love stories in history. Even better than Romeo and Juliet. This story was promoted as a true story, in fact Oprah Winfrey was going to produce a movie etc, then the author admits it was fabricated, none the less, still a beautiful story...  here's the proof it was fabricated. You can find further information about this story by Googling Herman Rosenblat." http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/29/books/29hoax.html?pagewanted=all

Please read the follow up story in the New York Times!
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/29/books/29hoax.html?_r=1&pagewanted=all  

Herman Rosenblat. (He was Bar Mitzvahed at age 75)

August 1942. Piotrkow , Poland...

The opinions, beliefs and viewpoints expressed by the various authors and forum participants on this blog site do not necessarily reflect the opinions, beliefs and viewpoints of the Publisher of Dakinetalk the blog, but they could? ;D)

If you would like to express yourself about any subject you feel passionate about, please  feel free to submit a guest blog to dakinetalk. Please limit guest blogs between 200-500 words, along with a short bio and photo of yourself. Send all blog submissions to; jrsensei@hotmail.com  who knows your blog could go viral!

"Living Within Our Means..." 'Michael Herr' (Aloha Friday)

Renowned author Michael Herr is back guest-blogging on this awesome Aloha Friday talking about  the reality of politics... Enjoy!  Make sure and check out Michael's website at; http://www.michaelherr.com/
　

ALOHA FRIDAY

May 18, 2012



　
It's Aloha Friday...

Living Within Our Means
Aloha folks.

Do you live on a budget? Most of us do. Whether it's a tiny, tight budget — like a college student living on Ramen every night, or a young married couple making four pounds of hamburger and a chicken last a week — or a larger more open budget — like Donald Trump limiting himself to one hundred million a month in expenses. We learn to live within our budgets. And if we, for some reason, exceed our budget one month? What do we do? Why of course, we cut back on our spending the next month. Or maybe we dip into our savings a little.

Yes, everyone lives on a budget. Except for politicians. I'm sure you've noticed, politicians never cut back when they go over budget. Instead they look for new sources of revenue, which usually means new taxes.

This morning I saw an article about a city near me where the local politicos are planning on instituting a tax on sugary drinks (what are those exactly?). They plan on taxing these drinks (mostly sodas) at the rate of one cent per ounce. Small Coke, such as I drink one per day, twelve ounces — twelve cents. Multiply that by the number of sodas consumed in a city every day. Multiply that by 365 days in a year. You're talking some real money. Oh, these politicos say they'll also vote (they get to vote on this, not you) about earmarking this money for sports activities and nutrition education. And a while after this new tax goes into effect, they most likely will decide to re-direct the money to other pet projects.

Politicians never, ever, cut back on their spending — unless it's something that they don't really care about, such as schools or the elderly. They keep their own salaries high. They keep their perks (health benefits, cars, meals, hotels, 'fact-finding trips'), at least until some watchdog group finds out about their abuse of these perks.

Do I have a solution? Sorry, no. This is a mindset of almost all who are in politics. Spend, spend and spend some more. And that 'some more', well when we need even more 'some more' then we just add another tax.

By the way, do you know the definition of Politics? It comes from two words. Poly, which means many. And Tics, which are bloodsuckers. You put it together.
Okay folks, see you next week.
　
　

The opinions, beliefs and viewpoints expressed by the various authors and forum participants on this blog site do not necessarily reflect the opinions, beliefs and viewpoints of the Publisher of Dakinetalk the blog, but they could? ;D)

check out Michael's website at http://www.michaelherr.com/ 

"Special report on Gay Marriage..." 'Obama Da Dog'

'Obama Da Dog' articulates feelings about "Gay Marriage.!" However Obama is adamant and draws the line on cats and dogs living together...Ironically this is blog #666  such an appropriate title for such a number!

Special report!

Although Gay marriage has received a huge "YES," Kaua'i has become the island of "NO!"   No to Plastic-bags, no to Super-ferry, no to rice-cookers, no to to more roads,  no to GMOs, no to most new business and no to smart meters.

 
Marriage as defined in my Oxford Dictionary Thesaurus is;" The legal union of a man and women."

 I definitely know there is no such thing as "Gay marriage." Gay as described in the dictionary means lighthearted or brightly coloured... as in Fred Flintstone "we'll have a gay old time". Believe me, marriage is no Gay old time.

As for two people wanting to make each other miserable, I say fine with that.

I do draw the line at cats and dogs living together.

The opinions, beliefs and viewpoints expressed by the various authors and forum participants on this blog site do not necessarily reflect the opinions, beliefs and viewpoints of the Publisher of Dakinetalk the blog, but they could? ;D)

If you would like to express yourself about any subject you feel passionate about, please  feel free to submit a guest blog to dakinetalk. Please limit guest blogs between 200-500 words, along with a short bio and photo of yourself. Send all blog submissions to; jrsensei@hotmail.com  who knows your blog could go viral!