Rain from Lane Keeps Fallin...

Hanalei Bay August 24, 2018

Rain was heavy last night and early this morning, lingering tropical moisture stirred up by Hurricane Lane. Islanders here on Kauai were wearing smiles of relief.  Lane, at one point a category-5 hurricane, threatened their homes and livelihood but turned southwest just in the nick of time.

"We had our windows boarded and were ready," said Leonard the plumber who lives in the community of Lawai. He was inside that same house, which belonged to his grandfather, when Iniki stormed the island in 1992. "The roof blew off," he said. 

The island came to a standstill on Friday as just about everything closed down except gas stations, the hardware store and super market. Government employees were told to stay home with their families.

"You have to have your priorities," says Leonard. "I'm not going to work in this situation. The company may not be here tomorrow but my family will."

The family tradition is deep here on Kauai, although things are changing. Leonard's 24-year-old son moved to Oregon for college and job opportunities on the mainland, as many children of islanders must do.His son had never experienced a hurricane while growing up on Kauai. The islands have been lucky. The combination of high mountains on the Big Island and Maui and the northwesterly Tradewinds have helped deflect and degrade Pacific hurricanes.

But as one old-timer who has resided on Kauai since the early '60s noted: "You never know."

The state of Hawaii to date has received more than 50 inches of rain from Hurricane Lane. That is the third highest volume of rain from a cyclone ever recorded. Most of the rain has fallen on the Big Island.

More rain, heavy at times, is forecast for today, 30-percent chance tomorrow. The residue of slow-moving Lane is still with us.

A Real-Deal Hero

"We admire them, we envy them, for great qualities that we ourselves lack." Mark Twain about heroes.

John McCain was a hero for the United States of America. The maverick Senator from Arizona was destined for that moniker from birth. He came into the world wrapped in a Navy blanket. He cut his teeth on toy anchors. His first word was "service." The US Navy lineage of his ancestors goes back to the pre-Viking Period.

As a Navy fighter pilot in Vietnam his motto was "one more sortie." Regardless of how many missions and strikes he had performed. Just one more, he figured, he hadn't yet given it his all. He was still conscious.

As a prisoner of war he refused release because he had buddies who were still in cages. He was tortured to unconsciousness by the enemy for his guile.

As a US Senator he crossed the aisle to make deals. He was always expected to do the unexpected. A principled maverick. He made close friends and familiar enemies and could still spin a good yarn and laugh about it afterward.

As a candidate for President of the United States he demonstrated his quirkiness by choosing a loud-mouthed cheerleader from Alaska as a running mate -- a real yahoo doozie. He later regretted it and admitted his error.

He lost his run for President to Barack Obama, whom he looked upon as a rookie who hadn't put in sufficient service for the office. Yet he stood up for Obama when others challenged his character, setting the record straight and defending his opponent as a decent family man.

The low point came during the 2016 Presidential race when one of the candidates from his own party said McCain was not a war hero, because he was captured by the enemy. This candidate had never served his country in the armed forces, or anywhere for that matter. A typical chicken hawk.

This candidate, regardless, was elected President of the United States. Perhaps because he is a maverick. Americans like mavericks. Not all mavericks are heroes.

McCain's final days were spent imploring his colleagues in Congress to work together. For the good of the country. To accomplish something. Friends, he said, we're not getting anything done.

I didn't vote for John McCain, not just because of Sarah Palin although that was good enough reason. Yet if anyone exemplified the qualities of a true American hero, he did. He certainly had great qualities that most of us lack.

Thank you, Senator, for your service.

Kupuna Means Wise Elder

Kupuna is the Hawaiian word for elder. It actually means more than just being a senior member of the family. Kupuna also denotes wisdom from life's experiences and it's a title of respect. Where I come from, an elder male is considered a "curmudgeon" or, if you're lucky, a "geezer." An elder woman is simply an "old lady," who is probably driving too slow in that Cadillac in front of you.

Believe me, I have at times earned the curmudgeon title and have made a point of attempting to not fall into the habit of complaining about everything from the latest political spat to whining about my sore lumbago.

Here on the island there are many advantages to being kupuna. The state gives handsome discounts to senior residents for taxes and other government-sponsored charges, including golf at municipal courses ("munis"). Foodland, a major grocery chain on the islands, offers a 10% kupuna discount on Thursdays.

A couple of months ago I was checking out at Foodland in Princeville early on a Sunday morning. I turned my head and the dark-skinned kupuna gentleman behind me said to me: "Happy Father's Day." It was the first acknowledgment of Father's Day to reach my ears.

That made my day, one kupuna to another. "Same to you," I said. We were both smiling and the lady at the check out was wearing a big smile, too.

"Ohana," the Hawaiian word for family, is a familiar majorative word on the islands. Families are celebrated daily when referring to the people, older and younger, in your circle of friends. "Uncles" and "Aunties" are not necessarily kupuna but familiar adults. Kids are called "keiki" which has a friendly ring.

Following a surf session recently I was talking story with a fellow kupuna surfer who was born on the island. I told him that our daughter and two grandchildren lived here, and we were considering moving here permanently. He said his daughter could not afford to live on Kauai any longer because of the rising price of homes and that he and his wife were considering moving to Oregon where his daughter and grandchildren now resided, the exact opposite of what we were considering.

As I sit back in my beach chair beneath the monkey pod tree, I reflect on the concept of family. Our children are like seeds that sprout and grow into their own person. Some seeds grow nearby, others are spread widely seeking their own fertile ground, creating Ohana with their friends as I did.

We want to be close to the children of our children because they are special in that they come from our seeds that we have nourished and we want to see them grow and flower. We all cannot live on an island but we can live in our own paradise. And there are many ways to stay in touch.

My kupuna wisdom may be faulty but my intention is sincere. My resolution is to not bark and complain about the tailgater driving behind me. Just pull over, take a deep breath and smile.

Dodging Hurricane Hector

So Hector came and went. He barely missed the islands coming within 200 miles of the big island of Hawaii. He was a category 4 hurricane at times spinning across the Pacific Ocean with winds of up to 155 mph.

We all watched the satellite feeds daily as Hector tracked on an eastward path toward the Hawaiian islands. We knew it would be close, especially for the people on the Big Island who were already dealing with the continual eruptions of the Kilauea volcano displacing many from their homes. If Hector was going to inflict damage it would be on the southern most island of Hawaii.

"Are you prepared?" The question came from television newscasters and front pages of all the newspapers across the islands.

Prepared means you have 14 days worth of nonperishable food and two gallons of water per person. Expect island-wide power outages. Have a safe place to go. A flashlight. Stories still circulate here on Kauai about Hurricane Iniki in 1992 that literally tore up the landscape and coastal areas of parts of the island.

One condo resident talks about how her window curtains were sucked outside the windows by the hurling high winds.

"It looked like it was going to miss us," says one old-timer, "then it turned south at the last minute and hit Kauai."

"Many people evacuated the island," says another. "The only store open immediately afterwards was a hamburger stand."

These islanders remained and are here to this day. And doubtless so are many others. It's one of the hazards of living out in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, on the farthest archipelago from any continent in the world. It's more grist to share when you talk story about it later.

Study a map of the mighty Pacific and the Hawaiian islands appear as a row of tiny dots on a huge mass of water. You wouldn't see them if they weren't labeled.

As Hector approached we checked our inventory of nonperishable food, which consisted of a few cans of tuna and beans. I picked up six gallons of water on one errand-run across the island. If I pick up something every day our stock will accumulate.

Because of the excellent weather news forecasts and satellite technology, we pretty much figured it was not going to reach the islands unless... and with Mother Nature there's always that "unless," something strange happens, as it did in '92.

The day of Hector's potential arrival the sky over Kauai was clear and blue, more so than in weeks. It was a beautiful day. It reminded me of the day following the 7.9 Loma Prieta earthquake on October 11, 1989 that destroyed downtown Santa Cruz and parts of the greater San Franciso Bay Area. That following day the weather was gorgeous, albeit there was a ton of open cracks in the Earth, collapsed buildings, piles of rubble and people displaced from their homes.

You could say we dodged a bullet. You could also say that everyday that we survive we dodge a bullet. Life really is that resilient and that fragile. The horrifying fires back in California no doubt caused more damage this time, with less warning.

We were lucky out here in the middle of the Pacific. This time. It's hurricane season and there are currently two new storms building in the low western Pacific.

My New Old Surfboard

                                                         

I purchased my first Hawaiian surfboard at the Hanalei Watersports Swapmeet on Saturday. A golden yellow Bruce Jones log, single fin, thick in the middle 9'6", well-ridden with scars to prove it, a relic among the the long and short guns and wide paddle boards lined  side-by-side across the lawn in front of the old Hanalei School building that now houses a surf shop, clothing boutiques and a sports bar cafe in the center of Hanalei.

The swapmeet takes place on the first Saturday of the month and the boards start showing up as early as 7am and by 9 the grass is covered with boards and surfers and watersports enthusiasts of all ages milling about talking story. I came looking for the perfect board. I felt as though it would be here waiting for me. I was not in a rush. It was probably 10 am when I got there, following the usual Saturday tai chi ritual on the beach. I was centered with chi. I was prepared to deal with four bills tucked in my board shorts. And there it was.

Last month I checked the swapmeet and didn't see anything. Craigs List, nothing.

I bought the board from a guy named Michael. He tells me it was his log and I can see he has patched every ding on the board, says he's glad that I am getting it because he can see that I truly appreciate the style. I tell him I'm glad he's good with the deal. I feel I'm getting off cheap for $250.

"That's a great board," says one of the guys hanging nearby: "Bruce Jones was an epic designer."

Maybe he's a plant, working with Michael but I doubt it and it doesn't matter. "Is Bruce Jones from the island?"

"He was from California. He died recently and will not be shaping any more boards."

It's definitely a California-style longboard. I google Bruce Jones and discover he was my age, contemporary of Hobie Alter whose shop in Dana Point I remember from the early '60s. Bruce rode his first wave at nearby Doheny, which is where I rode my first wave at about the same time.

I am convinced it's all connected and it's all about timing. When our paths cross. You cannot force it. It's like a wave that comes thousands of miles across the ocean with your name on it. You know it's coming but you don't know when. Bruce died of a heart attack at age 68. I feel blessed to still be around and the current proprietor of one of his classic boards.

The next day I take "Old Yeller" out to Kalapaki on the other side of the island. I receive a few comments such as, "You've got the right board today," and "That's a nice longboard." I explain to one of the guys that I got it at the swapmeet in Hanalei yesterday. "How much?" "Two-fifty."

"That's a good deal," he says. "I think a lot of guys are riding hydrofoils and selling their old boards believing they will never use them again.. I don't know," he adds and I agree. There's something about getting back to basics when the time is right.