Da Kine
As I grow old, I yearn for Hawaii. Not the reality of today. Not the cesspit and miniature tropical version of California's union run, corrupt socialist state. The Hawaii I long for may never have really existed save in the biased and naive world of a child. That Hawaii was one where they were indeed the 'incestuous islands' as a friend once called them. It was true, pretty much everyone was not more than six levels of separation from a member of your family and families were extended families that numbered in the hundreds or more. At the same time there were maybe a two or three hundred thousand people on the island of Oahu by far the most populous island and maybe another two hundred thousand scattered amongst the other seven major islands. About the only place one waited in a line-up for waves was out by Kewalo Basin, and the Hawaiian Tuna Packers cannery near the entrance to Honolulu harbor during the summer months when good surf and surfing spots were a bit harder to come by. By and large the North Shore when the waves were much more than 20' and especially Waimea Bay which 'closed out' at around 25' and could only be surfed if the waves were coming in just right and you knew how to pick those. A small group of 'Pupule' (crazy) kine surfers would dare those waves. Pipeline too was also such a place and those who surfed it often showed the scars of 'reef rash' where an unlucky surfer met with the coral reef that those beautiful tubular breaks pounded upon. I still have some scars from there although some are under other later scars. I miss the family get togethers both my immediate family and extended family. It was very typical of a Kamaaina get together. Lots of food, people eating and talking till everyone had their fill and then sated, we'd lounge on the living room floor of whomever's house the get together was held and guitars, ukuleles and other instruments would come out and there'd be singing and more talking.
There are people I miss too. What prompted this reminiscence was remembering my absolutely first crush. I think I might have been all of six years old when I met Ricki. She was eight then I think. Her skin was like gold poured into chocolate milk and clear. Big brown eyes and the spirit of an adventurer. Adventure we did. Though years separated us, we were the two closest in age the other children being either toddlers or teens. So, Ricki and I were thick as thieves and to use a quote from Forest Gump, "Just like peas and carrots". Ricki and I would spend hours in a wild overgrown patch of ground maybe a half block long that was a small cliffside pretending we were african explorers looking for buried treasure. It was she who showed me the first wood rose I'd encountered and introduced me to wild lillikoi (passion fruit) and guavas that grew there. It was she who convinced me that we should go into the macadamia nut grove of a man a few blocks away and try to gather some of the nuts (not knowing of course that we lacked any means of cracking them successfully). I lost the bottom of my blue jeans and very nearly a part of my butt to the German Shepherd that watched that property and while I was on the verge of tears and scared witless, her laughter and recital of the incident on the way home made it all seem ok. Over the years Ricki grew and by the time she was twelve was long and while very lean still had begun to develop very noticably from my 'bestest buddy' into a young lady. The skin of her youth was never ravaged by acne like so many others and her brown hair that always had a hint of gold in it from time spent outdoors in the sun stayed in the short 'pixie' cut that she liked but her face grew more beautiful. However, the three years separating us quickly created a gulf as we grew out of grade school years, that made me lose track of her when we finally moved from that house. Sometimes I wish I hadn't.
There are other people, our neighbors the Tsukomotos on the one side and Ricki's parents on the other. I spent hours with them too when I was very young. Mr. Tsukomoto was a fisherman and as I sat with him learned the skills that would later convince my grandfather that I was possibly worth something as I could repair gill netting. He also talked about his time in the 442nd Infantry Combat Team fighting in Italy and then France and Germany. He didn't glorify war but he did make it sound like it was the duty of any good citizen to serve in the defense of his country. The stories of faraway places and the sights of Europe even in the midst of WWII fascinated me and maybe they contributed to the decision at the tender age of five to recognize my calling in life. Ricki's mom was another person with whom I spent a lot of time with. I would help her clean and pick out the edible limu (seaweed) that they gathered or cleaning opihi (limpets) and once or twice I helped her with pounding taro roots and water into poi. She was one of the last pure Hawaiians who'd grown up out near Punaluu along with a few others. While we worked she would tell me about how the old Hawaiians had done things and occasionally rant about how the ali'i (Hawaiian royalty) had sold the land and were more motivated by personal greed than anything else.
There were other things I miss, the feel of a surfboard as a wave 'catches' it and it begins to take off. The amusement of figuring out that the 'lagoon' shown in the staging shots for Gilligan's Island was the South East side of Coconut Island (it's in the interior of Kaneohe Bay) and thinking that the 'castaways' were trapped a mere 200yds or less from the shores of Kaneohe. Sitting up on Tantalus Drive that one magical night looking out at the city lights of Honolulu with Andie. I miss the music of Hawaii, and the untamed places in the interiors of the island where we hunted, the clear and clean water unsullied by developers bulldozers and runoff from a million homes. I miss seeing the endless seas of sugar cane especially on Lanai where my favorite bay (Manele Bay) is now the reserve of the very wealthy or the joy of stopping on the way to the North Shore to grab a couple of Sugar Pineapples (little secondary pineapples that grow on top of the big ones) the sun on your back and the sweet juice in your mouth and dripping from your face. The thrill of my first wild boar, a small 400 pounder that I shot at less than 50yds. who stopped long dead some two steps away from me. Or the time I decided to take Betsy my S&W .44 magnum up a wild pig trail and nearly got run over by a huge one coming up from behind. There are some less than memorable moments too, looking back, for despite spending much of my time in and underwater or hunting, I was at least in school pretty much a geek and a dork as a young adolescent. I don't think anyone ever thought about the effects of promoting me from Kindergarten to first grade after a month in the former or similarly from second grade to third grade after a month there, or finishing high school early. I remember the guidance counselor in High School telling me how much I'd miss. What no one realized, I think, is that there's a lot of social learning that takes place in all those four years that I ended up skipping. I realize it now, because outside of business or military environments or what Andie (who actually was also a geeky dork back before life smacked her upside the head) or what I learned out of Emily Post's book or my second lover Friedrike in Germany taught me there are huge gaps in my social skills. I'd probably not say nice things about me then and wonder at how my Grandfather put up with it and what if anything he saw in me. I know in the end he approved of what he helped make. I guess that's what counts.
It's a long way from IT Consultant in Texas to that ocean loving, geeky dork in Hawaii. A road that took over a half century to make.
I really miss those people and those times.
There are people I miss too. What prompted this reminiscence was remembering my absolutely first crush. I think I might have been all of six years old when I met Ricki. She was eight then I think. Her skin was like gold poured into chocolate milk and clear. Big brown eyes and the spirit of an adventurer. Adventure we did. Though years separated us, we were the two closest in age the other children being either toddlers or teens. So, Ricki and I were thick as thieves and to use a quote from Forest Gump, "Just like peas and carrots". Ricki and I would spend hours in a wild overgrown patch of ground maybe a half block long that was a small cliffside pretending we were african explorers looking for buried treasure. It was she who showed me the first wood rose I'd encountered and introduced me to wild lillikoi (passion fruit) and guavas that grew there. It was she who convinced me that we should go into the macadamia nut grove of a man a few blocks away and try to gather some of the nuts (not knowing of course that we lacked any means of cracking them successfully). I lost the bottom of my blue jeans and very nearly a part of my butt to the German Shepherd that watched that property and while I was on the verge of tears and scared witless, her laughter and recital of the incident on the way home made it all seem ok. Over the years Ricki grew and by the time she was twelve was long and while very lean still had begun to develop very noticably from my 'bestest buddy' into a young lady. The skin of her youth was never ravaged by acne like so many others and her brown hair that always had a hint of gold in it from time spent outdoors in the sun stayed in the short 'pixie' cut that she liked but her face grew more beautiful. However, the three years separating us quickly created a gulf as we grew out of grade school years, that made me lose track of her when we finally moved from that house. Sometimes I wish I hadn't.
There are other people, our neighbors the Tsukomotos on the one side and Ricki's parents on the other. I spent hours with them too when I was very young. Mr. Tsukomoto was a fisherman and as I sat with him learned the skills that would later convince my grandfather that I was possibly worth something as I could repair gill netting. He also talked about his time in the 442nd Infantry Combat Team fighting in Italy and then France and Germany. He didn't glorify war but he did make it sound like it was the duty of any good citizen to serve in the defense of his country. The stories of faraway places and the sights of Europe even in the midst of WWII fascinated me and maybe they contributed to the decision at the tender age of five to recognize my calling in life. Ricki's mom was another person with whom I spent a lot of time with. I would help her clean and pick out the edible limu (seaweed) that they gathered or cleaning opihi (limpets) and once or twice I helped her with pounding taro roots and water into poi. She was one of the last pure Hawaiians who'd grown up out near Punaluu along with a few others. While we worked she would tell me about how the old Hawaiians had done things and occasionally rant about how the ali'i (Hawaiian royalty) had sold the land and were more motivated by personal greed than anything else.
There were other things I miss, the feel of a surfboard as a wave 'catches' it and it begins to take off. The amusement of figuring out that the 'lagoon' shown in the staging shots for Gilligan's Island was the South East side of Coconut Island (it's in the interior of Kaneohe Bay) and thinking that the 'castaways' were trapped a mere 200yds or less from the shores of Kaneohe. Sitting up on Tantalus Drive that one magical night looking out at the city lights of Honolulu with Andie. I miss the music of Hawaii, and the untamed places in the interiors of the island where we hunted, the clear and clean water unsullied by developers bulldozers and runoff from a million homes. I miss seeing the endless seas of sugar cane especially on Lanai where my favorite bay (Manele Bay) is now the reserve of the very wealthy or the joy of stopping on the way to the North Shore to grab a couple of Sugar Pineapples (little secondary pineapples that grow on top of the big ones) the sun on your back and the sweet juice in your mouth and dripping from your face. The thrill of my first wild boar, a small 400 pounder that I shot at less than 50yds. who stopped long dead some two steps away from me. Or the time I decided to take Betsy my S&W .44 magnum up a wild pig trail and nearly got run over by a huge one coming up from behind. There are some less than memorable moments too, looking back, for despite spending much of my time in and underwater or hunting, I was at least in school pretty much a geek and a dork as a young adolescent. I don't think anyone ever thought about the effects of promoting me from Kindergarten to first grade after a month in the former or similarly from second grade to third grade after a month there, or finishing high school early. I remember the guidance counselor in High School telling me how much I'd miss. What no one realized, I think, is that there's a lot of social learning that takes place in all those four years that I ended up skipping. I realize it now, because outside of business or military environments or what Andie (who actually was also a geeky dork back before life smacked her upside the head) or what I learned out of Emily Post's book or my second lover Friedrike in Germany taught me there are huge gaps in my social skills. I'd probably not say nice things about me then and wonder at how my Grandfather put up with it and what if anything he saw in me. I know in the end he approved of what he helped make. I guess that's what counts.
It's a long way from IT Consultant in Texas to that ocean loving, geeky dork in Hawaii. A road that took over a half century to make.
I really miss those people and those times.