$400 Million lottery? Who cares!

What?!

You say the Powerball is up to $400 million?

Big deal.

I've got silver in the stars and gold in the morning sun, to quote Don Williams.

Plus, look at this poster I won from Graceland. Yep, that's announcing the 2013 inductees to the Memphis Music Hall of Fame.

I've got everything I need, y'all.

That being said, if I do win the big payoff, next week's dateline will be  from Lahaina, Maui, Hawaii, USA.

Hey, a guy can't dream, can't he?

Maui dreamin'

My friend Dean and I had a chat last night.

We were talking about the 1995 death of our friend and my cousin Josh Ellis, its existential effects, how life has changed since then, how we have become politically adrift, no longer recognizing the Republican Party and not being able to find a home anywhere else.

I told Dean I'd be happy just to sing my songs, tell my tales, make my music, sit in the sun.

I also told him about something that happened when we were on Maui last September. Jennifer had stopped at a roadside pull-off to buy trinkets from someone who had set up shop there. I stayed in the car, admiring the high-def azure of the ocean and the sky.

And on the radio (KPOA-FM!) came a hauntingly beautiful song by Kendra Fisher, "Haleakala Medley."

"I'm never going home," I said. "I have found paradise."

Paradise found, yes, but back home I went.

But, back to Paradise I would go, if I could.

Oh, I know. Hawaii has humans and with humans come problems. As Matt King says in "The Descendants," people may think Hawaii is paradise, but cancer still kills.

Indeed. But, I think if I saw the sun rise and set over that shoreline every day, I could handle just about anything.

I'm getting tired. Tired of the partisan bickering and blathering. Tired of the self-important jackasses in this crazy town that don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Tired of the sadness and the screams and Fox News and MSNBC and Romney and Obama and the whole darn shooting match.

I want to sit in the sun and sing my songs. I want to read and write and tell my tales. I want to live. I want to love. I want you to be free to do the same.

I want the nonsense to stop. I want common sense to make a comeback.

Otherwise, buffalo chips is all it means to me, or so said Tom T.

Haleakala

We were stopped at one of those roadside scenic lookouts that seem to populate Maui's coastline.

Jennifer was looking for a fishhook necklace for bruddah Keith. I had a headache and just wanted to sit in the car and ogle the ocean.

I'd tuned the radio to KPOA, an FM station that plays what it calls "Hawaiian music...Maui style." A most beautiful song began to play.

A young woman sang about going one summer morning to see the sun rise at the top of a mountain. It haunted my heart.

Sista Val, the popular DJ and music director, was kind enough to end my week of frustration and send me the name of the song ("Haleakala Medley") and of the artist (Kendra). Feel free to surf over to iTunes and check it out. You'll be glad you did.

Sitting in the car, overtaken by the Pacific, overwhelmed by Kendra Fischer's haunting harmony, I vowed then and there I wasn't leaving Maui. And, well. You know how that goes. I'll have to sell the Great American Novel about as well as Stephen King can roll out another spine-tingler, or pop the Powerball prize, in order to make that dream a reality.

And, yet, here I sit at 3 a.m., finishing an excellent novel set in Honolulu (I'll tell you more about that later), listening to Kendra's sweet song on my iPod, yearning to see the sun rise on Haleakala.

As it was rising, I could see all of my dreams, on top of that mountain, called Haleakala.

The way Kendra shares it through her song, I'm up there on the mountain, too, clearing my head, dreaming my dreams.

I have a bad habit of getting caught up in the moment, declaring that whatever I'm reading or hearing or watching at the time is the best, gosh-darn, greatest thing I've ever read or heard or seen. Well, let me tell you this as I check the hyperbole at the door: Hawaii is the most beautiful paradise I've ever seen.

It may be sooner, it may be later, but we'll be back one day, climbing the mountain, seeing the sun rise on Haleakala.

Until then, I have my memories, my contentment here at home, my loving wife and my words and rhyme.

Just don't be surprised to learn my daydreams are filled with sunsets and ocean waves, out there somewhere beyond the reef.

Paradise found, and lost, and found

Well, it's back to reality this week, after 10 days in paradise.

And, I guess I'll be back to blogging regularly now that the wedding is behind us. It's funny. You spend the better part of a year preparing for an event that's essentially over in 15 minutes.

Oh, well. Can't complain. Love of my life. Great weather. Great backdrop. Bunch of friends. Best family. Even WBIR-TV showed up.

Hawaii was heaven, paradise found, perfect. I'll tell you more about it in two stories running in the Shopper-News next Monday. Meanwhile, let's just say it would take Shakespeare to do it justice and I'm not so sure the Bard wouldn't have trouble telling you just how beautiful it really is. Don't take my word for it. Go see it yourself.

But, I gotta tell you about a brief moment yesterday that made me grin.

I was actually doing a pretty good job of shaking off the Monday malaise. Life is good. I enjoyed getting back into routine. You can do that when you love what you do.

But, I could still feel the islands calling, taunting, enticing me to return to its sanguine shores.

So, I flipped on the online audio feed of a station we got to listening to while on Maui. Made it worse. Turned it off.

But, as I was walking to the car last night, a woman stopped me.

"Are you Jake?" she asked.

"I sure am," I said, flashing my best Monday afternoon smile.

"I just love to read your work. We just love reading this paper so much."

I thanked her profusely, grinned again and headed home happy.

Paradise Hawaiian Style may be hard to beat, but being back home ain't too bad, either.