The Bones of Blood Work: “The Odds”

The Bones of “The Odds”

On the last night of my brother Matty’s life, I told him that Pordagees don’t know how to grieve.

One night, a few years ago, my wife and I were talking about Frank De Lima, the conversation quickly turning into an exchange of Pordagee jokes. I wrote one of them down on a sticky note and tucked it away. Occasionally, I’d find it and try to develop the story around it. At one point, I was writing about a Portuguese chef who opened their own food truck after working for years as a sous chef in Waikīkī. They were tired of making “Hawaiʻi Regional Cuisine” and yearned to elevate the kinds of food they ate at their family table. 

“The Odds” isn’t that story. 

I scrapped the story of the Portuguese chef because I just didn’t care about it (and caring about what I’m writing is one of the reasons I write). The story was better as a joke, so off to my “scraps” folder it went. 

Then, a few years later, I read Amy Hempel’s “In the Cemetery where Al Jolson is Buried.” I loved the way Hempel used humor and inside details to develop the theme and characters. In addition, I found her approach to be the perfect way to tackle the difficult subject of death. 

It reminded me of that Portuguese joke, and I thought about a different story. With support and feedback from Kristiana Kahakauwila, “The Odds” was born. 

Meant to be a eulogy for a brother and friend, it’s one of my favorite stories, and I always tear up when reading it aloud.