I Confess: I'm Homesick

The moon has been my obsession these last few days. Maybe because try as I might, I haven't been able to take a good photo of her. Or perhaps because it reminds me of my childhood, growing up on Truk island, telling tütünap (storytelling) in the light of the moon during power outages. With the coming of the holidays I miss my family on my little island.

James Bond.
Frank Sinatra.
Grease.
Breakfast at Tiffany's. 
Max Surban.
Mother Goose.
E.T.

They all have The Moon in common.

I watched them on VHS, and listened to them on cassette tape, on constant loop because they were all we had to watch and hear day in and day out. There was no cable back in those days. Only the moon to keep us entertained on breezy balmy nights.

 

Moonraker. Fly Me to the Moon. Blue Moon. Moon River. Bulan. Hey diddle diddle.

Phone home.

In celebration of New Year, the Trukese beat cans accompanied by chanting dialects and quirks distinct to a particular island.

Lukuno kütüpüng!
Romolum tranana!
Oneop ochoch kon!
Kütü tipanmwiil!
Satawan pwaki-pwaki!
Uman chüri maram! There is a folklore from the island of Uman, where a man poked a stick at the moon. Well, he TRIED to poke the moon- it's reflection, anyway, in the water.

The moon has made me sick for home.

 Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped over the moon;
The dog had a laugh to see such a sport,
The fork ran away with the spoon.