They came this morning. It was a gray day, the sun hidden by dense clouds.
It’s a scene right out of Red Dawn.
I arm myself with a .45 and a butterfly knife. My heavy Madison boots are always there, in the back of my closet. One day, I knew, they would come in handy.
We assemble at Ala Moana Beach. The enormous crowd covers Magic Island and all the sand along the water. As time goes by, it spills over into the park.
I’ve never seen so many people, frightened, carrying weapons in Honolulu. The look in their eyes – and mine, too, I suppose – is a mix of shock and terror.
We watch, mostly silent, amazing for such a huge crowd. The parachutes keep falling in the ridges of the Koolaus. Crowds of folk, just like us, we hear, are assembling on the Windward side.
I’d just missed the Vietnam War draft. My year to go was up when they stopped the draft. Because my birthdate was 53, I’d have gone from basic training straight to Vietnam. Never, I assumed, would I face combat.
And here I was. Absolutely untrained for what we were facing. Where was my dad? He’d served in the Army. I could use his help.
Finally, a man with a bullhorn calls us to attention. “We don’t know who these people were, but we know from reports of action higher up in the mountains, that they are here to attack and kill us.”
“It’s Putin!” someone screams. This meets with a loud hum of agreement.
“Or those crazy North Koreans,” someone else shouts. “That guy is a maniac.”
“Don’t forget frickin’ China,” yells another.
“Please, please, please,” shouts the man with the megaphone, “please settle down.”
The crowd manages to quiet down.
“As I say,” the man continues, “we don’t know who they are, but they are definitely hostile.”
Someone puts her arms around me. She begins licking my face.
Doris, my rescue dog, has been my daily alarm clock since we found each other two and a half years ago. When she wants to get up, which means when she wants me to get up, she lies on my chest, puts her arms around my neck, and begins licking my face.
This is usually around 5:00 a.m. That’s the time I always got up when I was still working. Just after I managed to break that habit and began sleeping in, I adopted Doris.
So I’m back in a waking pattern that feels like work. Thankfully it’s not. It’s quality morning time with Doris.
What my furry little alarm clock means for me now, is that when I’m dreaming vivid dreams, she often interrupts them. I’d like to know how they play out, but Doris is the #1 priority in my life these days. I choose her affection over my dreams always.
Lanning Lee 