It’s not often I write about my dad or talk about my relationship with him openly. It is in fact a very spiritual relationship between me and him. My connection to him has always been very significant at many points in my life. I look to him in the pages of his Bible and in memories. At certain times, he stands out very strong in my thoughts and especially during spring planting time. Then there are those moments where my life takes a turn and I’m once again trying to make sense of it all. Those moments where I’m questioning my authenticity and my purpose. The self deprecation of life. Continue reading
Hopi Code Talker Recognition Day – April 23
In World War II, my great grandfather , PFC Perry Honani Sr and a group of Hopi men were assigned to the Army 81st Infantry “Wildcat” Division, Army Air Corps 380th Bombardment Group and 90th Bombardment Group. They served in the campaigns throughout the Peleliu, Anquar, Philippines and others along the Southeast Asia Pacific. Continue reading
Unbelievable – what it all has become. Art depicts life and now art has shown what have become of values and the challenges, we as conscious people face.
“These artifacts are no longer sacred…they are Art.” – Gilles Néret-Minet, French Auctioneer at auction. Continue reading
An Experience of a Lifetime
My first time in Okinawa was an experience to remember. It was my first real deployment within a battle group and on an Arleigh Burke class Destroyer, the USS McCampbell (DDG0=-85) It was during typhoon season and I had been through bad weather but nothing prepared me for this day….
Got You GOOD suckas!!! ‘Merica !!!!
**this really did happen and maybe I will finish the story for real in the future **
My memories of this house run as deep as my roots because they are one in the same. I walk through museums, “vintage” art galleries, antique shops and southwestern curios. I like to hear the conversations of people as they stare at the depictions of Walpi. The most famous picture of Walpi is the one of the village facing West, with the sun shining on the little houses at the entrance. They say that it goes back to 900 C.E. Continue reading
When I was 9 years old, my uncle Kerry paid me in cheeseburgers to clean this traditional medicine used in Native American ceremonies. After an hour of picking the small bits of fur with my fingernails, I started to complain about it getting under my fingernails. My uncle took my little hand, held it up to my face and pointed to the green caked fingernail. “This medicine can take you anywhere your heart desires. Even all over the world – anywhere! If you really want it.”, he exclaimed. Continue reading