The Show Must Go On

PHOTO BY KCS

The curious effects of an astrological phenomenon did not deter the stellar performance of a group of girls on Saturday. 

They danced and tumbled and wowed their audience, despite a series of unexpected circumstances that delayed the show and had people wondering what the heck was going on.

The most obvious answer is a planetary illusion called Mercury in Retrograde.

From May 29 through June 22, the planet Mercury appears to be orbiting in reverse, according to the Old Farmers Almanac. "These periods are traditionally associated with confusion, delay and frustration. Think undelivered love letters, email blunders and frazzled travel plans."

These conditions were widely apparent yesterday -- the first day of retrograde -- on the north shore of Kauai.

Our day was planned around the dance performance, "I Believe" presented by the Kauai Creative Academy. Our granddaughter, Viva, 10, had worked and practiced diligently to be part of this show.

The road from Hanalei, which currently is only open for brief periods of the day, was closed for hours and into Saturday evening due to a motorcycle accident (?!).

Residents and visitors who found themselves in Hanalei or beyond were unable to move, the only means of travel southward being by boat or other water craft.

"We were lucky to find a ride in a canoe," said the mother of one of the show girls. They had to hike up the hill from the beach before they met their ride to Anahola where the show was scheduled.

Coco had spent part of the afternoon preparing a vegetarian dish for the post-show potluck reception. We were showered and dressed in our aloha finery. She had roses for Viva. We were ready to roll.

Viva on the silk  PHOTO: KCS

But I couldn't find the key to our rental car. I looked in all the usual places -- pants pockets, desk top, dish where key is supposed to be -- still no key. I couldn't have locked the key in the car, I told myself, not wanting to face that embarrassment.

I walked outside to check.

"The key is locked in the car," I reported back to my lovely and forgiving wife.

"How could you do that?"

"You know me. Sometimes I can do the impossible."

I did not like the expression on her face.

The warm tropical air began to get warmer. Time began moving faster. I did not realize that the planet Mercury had apparently begun to move in the opposite direction. I did not know that people were stranded in Hanalei. I did not know many things, including how to break into the rental vehicle without smashing the car window.

This was an emergency. We couldn't miss Viva's performance. Maybe we can borrow Rick and Marcie's car? We thought in unison. They are neighbors at Puamana.

"Sure," said Rick, as he tossed his keychain to me. "Have fun," said Marcie.

Good neighbors. Lots of aloha.

To our surprise, we were among the first to arrive at the school where a beautifully decorated pavilion awaited. Stories were circulating about the difficulties of many getting there.

"You're not the only ones," said our daughter, Isabel, Viva's mother, noting a strangeness in the air.

In due time (Hawaiian time runs a little late anyway) the show began. It was a wonderful performance combining music, dance and acrobatics. The choreography and presentation were impressive. The young performers had obviously put in a great deal of concentration and effort. Kudos to the creative director, Illima, who made it all possible.

The sky turned dark while we milled around following the show munching on delicious, lovingly prepared entrees, salads and sauces. The performers, to my amazement, were running around like chickens, showing no signs of fatigue or retrograde. 

Maybe it's only parents and grandparents who are affected.

About Nothing and Writing

Overlooking Kalihiwai Beach PHOTO BY COCO

A couple of weeks on the island and I am ready to stay here forever. What does one do on a small island in middle of the Pacific Ocean, the farthest archipelago from land on Earth? 

Nothing.

I've always been pretty good at doing nothing, which in reality is doing lots of things that are frowned upon in more conventional settings.

Regardless of where you go you remain leashed to the greater world and its vicissitudes by electronic media. But when you're surrounded by the largest ocean on the planet, your focus narrows. You smell the flowers, hear the birds sing, point your eyes at the turquoise-colored water or shift your view toward the remarkably verdant mountains that form a magical back-drop to daily living.

I know these simple things make many people nervous. I get it. We're programmed for accomplishment. 

During my first week on the island I swept the lanai several times, cleaned the barbecue grill, took out the trash, drove to the store, hiked to the beach, attended a going-away party, played ukulele and sang, joked around with the grandkids, discussed life with my daughter, watched Stephen Curry and the Warriors on TV, ate sushi, visited Hanalei, swam in the bay, surfed in the bay, attended a zoom meeting, partook in a yoga class and joined a Tai Chi group moving slowly and purposefully through space.

I become exhausted just thinking about all the nothings I've accomplished. In the end what do I have to show for it: nothing. But I've enjoyed every moment.

Today I paid some bills using my iPhone. I mean, is that anything to talk about? It's nothing.

PHOTO BY KCS

When I was in high school I returned to school following summer vacation and Coach Pete Lopez asked me, "Sam, what did you do during the summer?"

"Nothing," I told him, figuring he would get it.

"Nothing!" he exclaimed, practically biting off my head. "Don't tell me you did nothing!"

He was achievement-oriented. Despite that, he was one of the few coaches I got along with.

I guess I could have told him that I went swimming at my girlfriend's house. We made out. I rode my bike. I played a little baseball. And a little ping pong.

I can imagine his answer, "That's all!?"

It was the summer after my freshman year and the final summer of my life that I didn't work. That is, until I retired after more than 60 years of working. Since then I've done nothing.

I've traveled, visited friends, gone to museums, walked my dog, surfed and jotted down a a bunch of words, sketched a few things, drank coffee and beer. Enjoyed a martini on Friday evening, watched the sun set and the sun rise. Checked out the full moon. Looked up the definition of words I didn't know. Read a few good books.

I've heard from reliable sources that meditation is one of the best things you can do for you mental and physical health. It's supposed to be calming, enabling you to center yourself so that you can be in the present moment. 

Recently, while walking along amidst an extravaganza of island floral delights with nothing more to think about than placing one foot in front of the other, suddenly, I encountered a moment when everything became clear to me. I was able to solve a problem that had been bugging me for weeks.

It was a writing problem. I had been working on a chapter of my life and a particular circumstance arose that I wanted to avoid writing about.  As a memoirist, the writer chooses what to tell about their life. Do you tell the embarrassing stuff? The things you're not so proud of? Do you only write about your accomplishments?

It became clear to me that I must write about this incident I was avoiding, if only to discover why.

It's about a trip to Hawaii during which I never touched the ocean or beach, didn't ride a single wave. I was so focussed on my future I could have been anywhere. Still, I must have learned something. What happened? What did I see? What did I hear? Who did I talk to? Who talked to me?

I can put these elements into words and create something that I didn’t know existed. Through writing I can solve a mystery out of nothing.

Renaissance Man of Kauai

Donn "Curly" Carswell.    PHOTO:HONOLULU ADVERTISER

In less than a week of our arrival on Kauai, we learned that Donn "Curly" Carswell had died. Curly was more than a well-known and respected character on the island, he personified Kauai. The loss of this pioneer figure is tantamount to losing a part of the island itself, as if one of the waterfalls has gone dry.

Curly, who died on his 85th birthday, February 4, 2021, was a walking encyclopedia of information about any subject, especially the island's flora, fauna and history. He knew the name of every mountain, tree and flower. He spent most of his life on Kauai, leaving his indelible mark in many places including his beloved Princeville Ranch.

He was a no-nonsense bear of a man, tough and ornery, sweet and sensitive. I only knew him briefly, since 2017 when I met him at the Princeville Community Center in a yoga class. Curly and I were the only men in a room of about 25 women.

At some 300lbs, his once athletic body had filled out and it was obvious that his health was in precarious condition, although I never knew exactly what his issues were. He didn't talk about it. His wife, Gale, assisted him in laying out his yoga mat and props. She appeared in fine health. They worked together as good respectful partners do. Curly's presence in the room was palpable.

When he learned that I was from Santa Cruz, he told me that while he attended Stanford University in the 1950s he would go to Santa Cruz to surf Steamer Lane. This was before wetsuits and leashes and that other "baby" stuff.

"Did you know Chubby Hernandez?" he asked me.

I told him that was before my time in Santa Cruz.

"He was a beautiful athlete," said Curly in his gravelly voice.

He didn't mention that he, Curly, was an All-America guard on the Stanford football team. He graduated from Stanford with a major in civil engineering and minor in geology.

Before his college years in California, he attended Punahou High School on Oahu. After college he served in the U.S. Marines Corps. He started the first fitness gym on Kauai which he operated for 30 years. He also worked for the Grove Farm and Princeville corporations.

During one of our regular visits to Kauai I learned about a Tai Chi class at the community center. When I showed up for my first effort at Tai Chi, Curly was there.

Tai Chi master Skip Rush, another well-known island figure, referred to Curly as a Tai Chi grand master. Skip would sometimes ask Curly for clarification of some aspect of the ancient martial art.

I asked Curly where he learned Tai Chi.

"On the Yangtze River in China," he said.

I was not surprised. He was a Black Belt Judo master, too.

Curly never missed a Tai Chi class. On Saturdays Skip held the class on the shore of spectacular Hanalei Bay. I knew Curly had arrived when I heard classical music coming from his pick-up truck. He needed minor assistance from his daughter to get across the lawn, moving several yards at a time with his walker, interspersed with short seated rests. He was resolute and focussed.

Curly missed his first yoga class when his wife Gale suffered a stroke, after which she suddenly and unexpectedly died. Curly was devastated. He didn't show up for Tai Chi. "He's suffering from a broken heart," said Skip. Curly and Gale had been married 55 years.

Gale was a descendant of the Wilcox family of first haole settlers in Hawaii. She had been a picture of health and fitness compared to Curly.

In 1978 Curly and Gale started Po'oku Stables at Princeville Ranch, as well as the famous Hanalei Stampede Rodeo. He was an ace calf-roper. In the early 2000s, he served as president of the Hawaii Cattleman's Cooperative.

His obituary in the local newspaper identified him as "a leader in the community. He was an entrepreneur, a Marine, an engineer, an avid handball player and a rancher. He was an adventurer and always met life head-on with passion, curiosity and enjoyment. He faced the circumstances of life without apology or complaint, and lived such a full life that he is often described as having lived "nine lives."

Curly knew that I had worked in the marketing department at the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk, a world-famous seaside amusement park. When a newcomer would join our yoga or Tai Chi group, he enjoyed introducing me as a former "clown" from Santa Cruz.

The island isn't the same without him. When Curly passed, we lost a treasure, yet you can hear his indomitable spirit whistling when the trade winds blow.

Aloha, my friend.

Flight of the Grandparents

Coco, Viva and Mystiko. PHOTO: KCS

Remember when a trip from California to Hawaii was a five-hour plane flight? Coupled with a Mai Tai or two? You were greeted at the Honolulu airport by a lovely wahine who placed a lei around your neck? You were overwhelmed by warm, tropical fragrances?

Not today. Or more precisely, last Monday. Not with a recent rise in COVID cases in the islands.

Of course I date myself when I describe the way it used to be. Today we can travel practically anywhere in the world with an electronic screen and a keystroke.

That very modernism was the difficulty for us -- grandma and grandpa -- as we fumbled and grumbled through the airports on our way to Kauai to see our daughter and two grandchildren. Most airplane travelers to the islands are the younger tech-savvy types who are not fearful of downloads, screenshots and Qr codes.

"Do you need some help?" said a young couple behind us as we tried to locate our Qr codes. We were obviously strangers in a strange, electronic land.

The state of Hawaii requires proof of a negative COVID test within 72 hours of your flight, downloaded or printed. A Qr code (the little square with squiggly lines)  is necessary for each leg of your flight. It reveals everything about you including the name of your first pet. All incoming flights go through Honolulu.

Our traveling time was 13-hours, which included a three-hour layover at the Honolulu airport. That is, from airport shuttle to arrival at our daughter's home on Kauai. Lucky for me, I cannot stay awake that long. Regenerative naps have become de rigueur.

All seats were occupied during both legs of our trip, like eggs in a carton. Masks were required.

"I wish that guy would cover his nose," said my partner known to her grandchildren as Coco.

Her point was emphasized by occasional sneezing by fellow passengers, the most efficient method for spreading the virus.

Note to self: stay covered but don't try to feed yourself with mask on.

At the Kauai airport in Lihue we were waylaid by the National Guard, while younger travelers sped through check-points like Indy-500 racers. We were horse-and-buggy travelers.

"We need to see your test results," said the guy in camouflage.

I proudly pulled up a screenshot of my negative results.

"I cannot see the date of this test," he said.

He was correct. It was cut off at the bottom. I'm still learning how to type with my thumbs.

Fortunately we had printed copies of our test results on paper -- remember paper? This was a stroke of pure, neurotic luck. More fumbling to find said papers.

Finally free on the island, all we had to do was call a taxi for a short jaunt to our car rental agency, Island Cars, where cheapskates like us can rent a used car that has been broken-in (not into).

Rental cars are going for as much as $500 per day in the islands. Our rate was much better but still more than what we paid a year ago.

"You got a great rate!" said the woman at the agency. "It's a good thing you reserved early. Rates are much higher today."

"Great!" I said, feeling like I was losing money to save money.

The agency had sold most of its fleet during the COVID lockdown. As the islands have opened up, demand has increased while supply is severely limited.

"We have this Chevy Sonic ready for you," she said. 

Sonic? Don't ask. We could wait an hour or so for that Nissan Versa which needed cleaning.

"We'll take the super Sonic." 

Both compact vehicles require youthful agility to be seated. I complimented myself for maintaining regular yoga practice. Those downward dogs can pay off.

And it's all worth it.

When we met our beautiful daughter and two grandchildren with hugs for the first time in more than a year, the great value of our journey was confirmed.

A hug in this case was better than a lei.