Hawaii and Me

I mentioned this before, in my post about Tiki Culture, but when I was fourteen, my grandpa took me to Hawaii during my spring break. In this box, I keep items from that trip. Brochures, post cards, notes. My notes are about what we did each day. On my first day I say we arrived at the airport and my grandpa's friend met us with leis. "Real ones," I note.

I remember the smell of Hawaii the most. It smells lovely there, a hint of flowers, a hint of ocean and lots of fresh air. I remember us going several times to breakfast at a real greasy diner joint. I grew up on breakfasts of frozen waffles, meatless sausage and a slice of cantaloupe. I did enjoy all those items, and I'm grateful for the effort my mom made, what with my cholesterol and all. But suddenly I was having bacon and eggs and as I note "good hash browns," which, if I had to guess, were probably fried in butter instead of olive oil.

We drove around a lot in a red convertible that my grandpa insisted on getting. I spent much of my time concerned about the lack of a roll bar. He hated it when I slammed the door, but the door weighed more than me, what was I supposed to do? Anyway, we visited the restaurant he had gone to many times with his wife, a woman he married in the 70s, whom I knew and liked - she died when I was eight.

We went to the beach of course, several times. At one point I swum out to a "rock, far away, nice" I note. I remember my grandpa telling me to be careful, there could be undertow and I could get sucked under. I disregarded him, thinking that I was young and strong and a good swimmer, I could outrun any undertow. In retrospect, the warning and subsequent thoughts are ironic - that summer I would go to the beach with my friends and get caught in the undertow, barely making it out of the water. I was right, I could outswim it, but it cost me my love of being in the ocean.

At the end of the fifth day, after I visited Pearl Harbor alone (my grandpa was not interested), we went back to San Fransisco, flying first class. My grandpa told me I the next time I'd visit it would be with my "boyfriend" - not having one at the time, I guessed he meant in the future. It turned out he was right - I did visit in 2007 with my now ex. But that's another story.