History
I bought StoryWorth, what I thought was a neat concept to gather stories from my dad. They email one thought provoking question a week. At the end of the year, they send a book out with pictures and all your stories combined nicely.
Well… He answered two question so far, out of the weekly questions they have sent him and its been over a year. So I figured I’ll use it instead. I can start here and edit later. Since this is a great Journaling type of platform…
Where were you born and raised?
I was lucky or blessed to start life in Hawaii in a tiny town called Honokaa. To parents who were well educated, loved traveling, Peace Corp loving, adventurous (mostly my Dad), community oriented, somewhat beatnik, religious, live off the land (Mom) with a permissive parenting style.
My very first vivid true memory at one or two years old, was waking up on our Honokaa living room couch, to a room filled with college students who were carrying on a lively conversation, what I imagine being very philosophical in nature.
The house in Honokaa was on the beach, on stilts. I don’t remember much, but I do recall my parents telling stories of a hammerhead shark washing up in our backyard.
When I was two, my dad bought a plot of land in the foothills of Hilo. With the help of a contractor or two, my dad built almost every aspect of our home.
I “helped” with concrete work, stucco and lots of tightrope walking on 2×4’s. No other neighbors on our road, but the neighborhood had beautiful new blacktop, where the daily rains would turn into “ghosties” and white fences. I’m sure the developers has grand ideas for this up and coming neighborhood, but we were the only home on my road for over a decade, which was just fine by me. Surrounded by lush tropical food forests, I could disappear for hours climbing trees, making forts, foraging food and just exploring. I was the ultimate “wild child” and my parents let me have full autonomy, that I will be forever grateful for. My only regret in life is that I could not give my children the same childhood in the wild.
One story I like to retell, is when Greg and I were on our usual walk-about, we heard a wild boar in front of us breaking brush and sounding very angry. We turned heel so fast, and ran so hard, I am convinced I leapt the white fence without trying. “Every man for himself!” as I left Greg behind to get mauled by the pig. He didn’t.
We found the spot a block away from our home, where some teenage boys detonated their marble bombs once. They coated a marble in gun powder, or some type of explosive encased in aluminum foil. We thought we were just picking through debris, but found one that didn’t explode, so we made it explode. Not realizing how dangerous or LOUD it would really be. Again thank goodness for no neighbors. I cant imagine the ruckus that would have caused in this day and age in our neighborhood. I’m sure the swat team would had been called out. Nobody was hurt, and mom and dad never knew till years later.
“Army Pond” was another block down the street, and we would walk the river and swim whenever we could get a chance. I honestly think my parents gave us so much freedom, it’s hard to imagine now days letting my kids near a sometimes raging river by themselves. But we would catch fish and frogs and tadpoles and bring them home. Inevitably they died, and we would offer them a proper burial under our banana trees. Or in the quarter acre garden my mom tended. I remember doing very politically incorrect Indian dances around a salmon.
The beach was an excursion for us, a few times a month if we were heading downtown, we would go to Liliuokalani gardens and all the little spots around Banyon Drive. Occasionally, probably every other year or when we had family visit, we would travel to black sands beach, (which sadly got destroyed by a 1980 lava flow) and Kona to ogle all the tourists.
The volcano was very active while we had been living there. Many earthquakes and occasionally red glowing horizons at night that would make my mom stand at our backdoor ringing her hands over. My dad always the one to make light of her worries and make us kids feel better.
Most earthquakes struck when we were home, I remember my dad trying to run down the hallway into my brother’s room to pull them off bunk beds and away from windows, covering them in blankets, while I was bracing in my bedroom doorway trying to keep the door from slamming on me. It was always an adrenaline rush and I would get giddy with laughter in my child brain.
Another time an earthquake hit before bed, my brother’s were in the bath. Greg had just sat on the toilet and my mom’s trying to get slippery baby Joe wrapped up in a towel, while Greg’s screaming about the water in the toilet getting his bum wet. 🤣 😂
Once the volcano erupted spewing fine glass “hairs” and ash all over our city. They canceled schools and told everyone to stay indoors. I went outside and gathered “Pele’s hair” and got lots of glass slivers in my fingers and toes.
To be continued…
Adventures in Mitchell 