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Written by Joyce Guzman

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On Kauai, there are a lot of stories about a white lady who roams the island ... sometimes she's in your backyard, sometimes she just walks and walks.  My friends used to live near a cliff overlooking the river on one side and the ocean on the other. We had wash houses in the back of the house... some wash houses are pretty far from your house.  In the evening, she would walk on the sidewalk to the wash house which was about 100' from the house. There was also a fence that separated our camp of houses from the haole camp. This was where all the Lunas for the commercial company that owned the houses we lived in. It was really spooky when it got dark !! Along side of the sidewalk to the wash house, clothes lines were posted all around a garden which was next to the sidewalk. Eh ... you follow me so far or what?? Ok then ...

Well, one evening my friend went to take a shower and there sitting on the clothesline post sat this lady all in white ... right away she knew who it was. We all knew about the white lady and from that time on. My friend wouldn't go to the wash house to take a shower by herself again  Her brother used to always hear someone calling his name late at night when everyone was asleep. It used to go on and on and he became very afraid ... his mother told him that the ancient Hawaiians always said that when you hear your name called at night, NEVER answer or go to this voice because you may never come back. He always sang this Hawaiian verse: "... Haena Ea Mai Ana kapuanala ..." (if that's how you spell it) all the while making fun of the verse, which he didn't know what it meant anyway ... I think it means ... this is the end of my story or something or other ... but it seemed like he was always haunted by that ... he used to have bad dreams of someone standing at his bedside ... all in black with a big black hat ... sometimes he would feel this entity press against his chest while he was asleep like it was trying to get inside of him ... this went on for years that it got to the point he was talking to this thing and telling it that he wasn't afraid of it and that he will fight him all the time.  He moved to the states and it continued ... I don't know if it's still happening but, he is still fighting it inside of himself.

Another incident happened to someone going up Kokee ... which is about 4,000' elevation. We used to go there to see the miniature grand canyon, the Waimea Canyon.  There is a story about a man who drove up that winding road at night and saw this lady in white walking along side the road ... he stopped to ask her if she needed a ride, she politely said no and he was on his way ... about 5 miles up the road, there she was walking along side the road and he knew not to stop and ask because surely it was the white lady ... how could anyone walking be ahead of him 5 miles up the road ??

Another incident was when we played "masta" down at the beach at night, the guys used to hide all over the place, especially places we don't dare go find them.  One night, Donald and Aka went in this cave along side the cliff next to the river and hid thinking no one was going to be able to find them ... as they crawled and hunched in the dark, they felt someone else in there as they nudged in closer and spoke saying, "eh, we going hide here too"... no answer came from this person ... well, no one found them for a long time so they decided to come out ... when they got to the campfire ... everyone was accounted for and suddenly it donned to them that there was someone else in that cave next to them.  No one went in that cave from then on ... One night, as I lay in my bed with my husband fast asleep next to me ... I felt like he was struggling or had a bad nightmare.  He seemed like he was choking and it woke me ... as I moved, I felt something very heavy get off the bed ... I  thought he got off the bed but as I turned, he was trying to get his breath.  I asked him what was the matter, he said, someone, or something was on this chest, choking him and he was fighting for his life ... he said luckily I felt him moving and when I got up, it got off and left ... and I actually felt the weight leave the bed.  But ... this was not in Hawaii, this was here in  California ... Do we all bring our dragons with us as we leave the islands because of our strong belief in the supernatural ?

There are so many stories like these. Growing up on Kauai, it became part of our culture and we all accept it as something that is part of the islands. It may be the blend of many cultures and beliefs of the Asian and Polynesian people that  fostered these stories of the unknown. These stories made the islands mysterious, somewhat scary at times and definitely memorable ... It's probably true that everyone growing up in Hawaii has had a "chicken skin" experience.  It's all part of the Island flavor ... part of our collective consciousness ... stories we tell and re-tell late at night ... when it's quiet ... and you thought you heard someone scratching on the sliding glass door ... that leads to the walkway to the outside shower ... next to the pool ... outside your house in the suburbs ... a white apparition ... could it be ... the White Lady ... on vacation ... visiting from Hawaii ?

Joyce Guzman was born on Kauai and graduated Waimea High in 1961. Residing in Dana Point, she works for JCP as a makeup artist and sales associate. Gave up working corporate level in 1991, enjoying life working with people who need consultation on skin care and makeup.

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Written by Pat Cunningham McCroskie

I had a best friend, Jeanne Dye, whose family owned Ellen Dye Candies on Fort Street.  They had a lovely beach house in Kailua.  One day she took me over the Pali. Now this was a long time before they put one puka in the mountain and made the tunnel over the Pali.

It was also before I did any driving. Though I had been over the Pali quite a few times, I learned that day how to take a car over.  We stopped at the Kamehameha Memorial just before the summit and climbed down as far as we could. There was a fence at the memorial, so we could go no further.

Well, anyway, we climbed back and got into the car.  I rolled up the window on the passenger side because of the wind.  I guess Jeanne didn't notice that I had done this.  That is, until we were almost into the wind !  All of a sudden she came to a screeching halt on the side of the road.  I couldn't figure out what the problem was.  I asked her what the heck she thought she was doing ... I thought she was crazy ! The wind was cold !!

Jeanne looked at me and said that if we tried to go over with both windows up the wind would take us right over the hill.  Auwe ... that was my first lesson in driving in the Islands.

We proceeded to her house. I, of course , brought my sarong so that I could go swimming.  Which we had planned to do.  I thought we would go right outside their door and swim ... so I started to change.  Jeanne stopped me and said we were going somewhere else to swim. Well, that was fine with me, but I just couldn't figure out why she would go somewhere else to swim when she had a beautiful beach in her own "back yard".

Well, we piled back into the car and headed toward Diamond Head and Waikiki.  All the time I am thinking..."this is crazy"... and when she pulled up into a clearing on a cliff I figured she was even more "LOLO"...

We got out of the car and I finally just had to ask her where we were going. She said " Doris Duke's house."  Oh my, I thought... we are going to meet this millionairess !!!   WRONG !!  We climbed down the cliff to the beach and there with a fire going, were all my friends, swimming and dancing... (everyone carried a uke or guitar or both in those days) ...Jeanne and I joined the party.

The fun and games went on until about 9 or 10 o'clock that evening. The party was really rolling by then. A luau was going on in the old style. Food, music, dancing, and great friends.  This kept up until midnight....

All of a sudden, I was picked up and carried to the fire and seated on a rock next to it.  I was curious and a little embarrassed....what now??  Then out came this beautiful cake with 16 candles on it.  It was put in front of me and everyone shouted "HAPPY BIRTHDAY... HAU' OLI LA HANAU !!!"  Oh, my it was my surprise birthday party !!!

That was the only time I had ever been surprised with a party, and it is one birthday I will never forget.  Now when I see how people treat each other, I go back to that November day and thank God for all my friends who showed the genuine Aloha Spirit...that is something that we are born with and that we can always carry in our hearts no matter where we are.

Pat Cunningham McCroskie was born and raised on Oahu. (Roosevelt '48) She now lives in Grand Junction, Colorado.  She spends her time taking to and thinking about her children. She has 9 grandchildren and 5 great grandchildren. She is currently putting a collection of stories together about Hawaii for publication.  Any old time friends out there are welcome to get in touch with her at via email or ICQ#37939253.

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Written by Kika Nixon

My hanabuddah story has kept me focused and determined for the past 36 years.  Harvesting opihi and seaweed, dancing around the May pole, making leis, laughing, ono food and a lot of love are all part of my collective childhood memory ! I still hear the echo of the cry "Manapua" in the streets.  Why I even knew how to work the shave ice machine by the time I was 5 years old!  The Market place was an adventure where you could see huge fish being brought in by big beautiful Hawaiian fishermen. (as a child of course I did not realize how dangerous it could be down there!)

Then my mother sent me on a vacation to the mainland, only when I arrived in California - I found out it was not a vacation, but something called - adoption.

Terrified, and ripped away from my home I only had my memories to comfort me.  The mainland was a strange land for me and the new family was even odder!  My first return trip to the Islands after having been given up for adoption was in 1974.

I was the 1974 Miss Nisei Week Queen from Los Angeles, and I attended the Cherry Blossom Festival. (I was the first Hapa Queen in the history of the festival - and it rocked the boat!)   I was heartbroken because my adopted parents forbade me from mentioning my Hawaiian heritage or that I was adopted.

There had been both good and bad feelings about my mixed heritage from the Japanese American community  and my parents did not want to cause any more undue attention to it. I had just turned 18 years old and was very young.

My hanabuddah memories were my life-line to my heritage. I would wrap those memories around me like warm blanket on a cold night, and the memories - like the healing waters of Hawaii - would soothe my aching homesick heart.  Now I am on the verge of seeing my dreams come to pass. I will be moving home soon, within a few months in fact. As a gift, my husband recently bought 10 acres for me on Big Island. Since we married, his quest has been to return me to my homeland.  We will soon be seeing our dreams come true!   (and hey - he cooks too!)

It has been a life long journey - returning home.  I feel rather beat up !  Kind of like a salmon I suppose ! But at least I'm coming...... HOME.....AT LAST !!

Kika grew up in Alewa Heights and went to Mai Mai Elementary on Oahu. Her husband, George's first visit to Hawaii was in 1962 where he was stationed at Pearl Harbor at 18 years of age.  He fell in love with our Islands and claimed it in his heart and he has been trying to get back ever since!  George and Kika Nixon are musicians and artists living in the Los Angeles area with their 2 cats (their cat Moon definitely speaks pidgin'!), a talking parrot and a friend's dog - who came to "visit" about 8 months ago and decided not to leave!  George is an accomplished Blues-Jazz vocalist/musician. He's also a gourmet cook.. Kika sang gospel for many years and is now branching out into Blues and World music.  She also sculpts Porcelain, paints, and is writing children's stories.  Four years ago, George brought Kika back home so they could be married on native soil.  They recently helped 2 of their 4 children move to Hawaii, their son is on the Big Island and their daughter and grandson have settled on Maui. With the kids situated, they can concentrate on getting themselves home to their 10 acres in Opihikao and begin building their dream!  Kika is living proof that no matter where we are - Hawaii lives on in our hearts and Her manna CAN bring you home ... even after 37 years!

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Written by Kamaka Brown

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There isn't anything left of the house now.  It's like you hear about the old neighborhood and how it's not the same.  Well, most everyone has moved away to some place or another.  Faces change like seasons. The trees have grown. We lived at Tutu man's place in the valley on the river.

I liked to walk down the dusty road that turned at the river when you didn't expect it to.  Summer was the best time of year.  The days were long and hot.  Had choke fish in the river.  The Buffo frogs groaning their love songs in the cool of the evening across the water.  Cows from the ranch would mosey over into the yard and eat Mom's favorite Ti plant.  She would get on the phone and call the ranch foreman.  He'd drive down in his old Jeep like a movie sheriff and den come in for coffee afterwards. I never could figure out how he could fit those big feet with puka socks into those pointed boots with the run down heels.

They filled in the low spots in the backyard.  That used to be my hiding place.  The hau trees grew wild along the wall.  That's where all my bad guys lived.  In the winter the huge pounding waves in the bay  closed the mouth of the river where it emptied into the sea. The river backed into the yard waist high.  Even the road to the falls was underwater ! That's when I would climb on the wall and follow it to the twisted Hau trees. It was "Pirate Time" ! I would swing up on  branches over the water like a pirate on the rigging of a bandit ship.  Ooh.. the adventures I had on the high seas of the Waimea River.  They had to use a tractor to pull the trees down.  There is no trace of it now in the back yard...except where it is safely tucked away in the video archives of my heart.

The Ulu tree grew along the tin fence by the falls road.  You could tell the ulu was ripe when the pinholes of milky sap would come out and drip down the side.  We had one kerosene stove and Mom baked ulu in it. She simply cut the core out and filled the hole in with butter and brown sugar. It's funny how the mind can store smells and tastes.  Like coming home from school and smelling baked breadfruit in the oven.  Eh..you can have cookies and milk...baked Ulu was "da bestest".

You could not mistake the smell the river.  It was brackish and ran green in the summer. From Halloween until New Years it ran mocha. That was because in the winter time the rains from the mountain would wash down the soil.  The river changed mood then.  It raged into a rapid with white water crests.  Cows from the ranch sometimes got marooned on the piece of  pasture that jutted out onto the river.  That is when  you could hear the waves thunder and feel the earth shutter with each set.  We knew the river would soon overflow into the yard. That's when it was "Pirate Time" !

Niimi Store, at the foot of Pupukea, was the place we would go for ice and kerosene.  Twenty five cents for a block of ice wrapped in newspaper.  Mr. Niimi would get his ice hook with a handle to grab the ice.  Hmmm...that would make a nice hook for "Pirate Time"....We had a REAL icebox at the house in Waimea.  It had a place inside on top for the ice block and underneath, racks for food stuffs. Under the door was a flap that hid the water drain pan. When I came home from school, it was my job to empty the enamel drain pan.  If I forgot, there would be water all over the linoleum kitchen floor and that was bad news when Daddy got home.  I wonder what happened to that ice box? It would be a collector's item now up for bid on eBay.com . Niimi Store is now Foodland with electric eye front doors that open when it sees you. I liked it better when Mr. Niimi saw us coming and said: "Hello Mr. Brown...how your wife and keeds?"  looking over the top of his glasses and smiling.  I don't think Foodland sells kerosene out of a 55 gallon drum do you?  The only ice they sell is in the bag, cubed. No need hooks for that, eh?

There isn't anything left of the house now.  In fact, the homestead on the river is no more.  The dispute in the courts over ownership of the land ended with the sheriff removing our belongings from the land and the bulldozers left to do their work.

Nothing remains the same.  I saw in the papers that part of the mountain fell  on the Kahuku side of the Kamehameha Highway leading to the bridge and that they have built a temporary road across the sand for traffic. Auwe ! Everything has a purpose. My Tutu did say our Valley get plenty mana. I've taken that joyful carefree childhood and treasured it in my heart.

If you go the our Valley, choose a quiet evening near the river at sunset and when the light is just right...the shadows from the mountains cast shadows themselves. Our Valley remembers...under the coconut trees, if you look just right...when the day turns to twilight, you can see a tin roof house and a thicket of hau trees..if you listen carefully you can hear buffo frogs moaning forlornly... maybe get a whiff of baked ulu in a kerosene stove...and on special evenings Daddy playing the guitar and Mom singing in her awesome soprano echoing in the caves and ridges of our Valley...and there is laughter and the sound of children playing in the Hau trees along the river at tutu man's place.

Kamaka Brown was raised in Waimea Valley, Oahu.  He now resides in Southern California and is a corporate trainer for a major telecommunications company.  His passion is writing and performing as a comic at comedy clubs around SoCal. He has also opened for numerous Hawaiian venues on the West Coast and Las Vegas. He recently performed with  Makaha Sons, Sistah Robi, Fiji, Dennis Pavao, Randy Lorenzo, and Ho'okena.  He is also part of our editorial staff on "Hanaduddah Days."

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Written by Reverend David Kapaku

Oh the subtle sounds of growing up in Nanakuli...like your neighbors rooster coming in your back yard around five in the morning waking up the dead. You open the window and and throw something at the bloody rooster but he just go over the fence and make more noise. And there's nothing like the sound of your neighbors across the street fighting around midnight, swearing at each other, then pulling out of the driveway screeching the tires as it heads down the road...only to come back at two in the morning with the muffler dragging on the asphalt and getting out of the car crying, "I sorry Kuulei, I not going talk stink about you mudda again." Ahhh! The sounds of growing up in Nanakuli.

But the best sounds you remember are the Mosquito Truck, Charlie the Manapua Man and Farmer Mac. Do you remember the Mosquito Truck? My friend Mitchell always looked forward to the Mosquito Man. His mother liked to clean the yard in the evening while Mitchell wanted to head over to the park and play volleyball. And when he heard the Mosquito Man coming, he would wait till the truck would passed by so he could sneak through the smoke and head over to the park. His mother would scream, "Mitchell, where you? Gonfunnit, I catch you, you goin get dirty lickens." Mitchell never care but when he got home...it was curtains.

Charlie the Manapua Man drove an old green car and would go up and down the street selling ice cream and manapua, okole, gelatin rice, black sugar, etc. It didn't matter where or what you was doing, when you heard Charlie ringing the bell, you dropped everything and headed to the end of your driveway yelling, "Stop! Stop! Eh Charlie stop!" Sometimes you would get to the end of your driveway and see Charlie way up the road next to the Kaeo's house. It would seem like he was up there forever and then you would see his car move...only to go to the Meyrers' house where they had like twenty thousand kids. Still clutching your dollar, you wait patiently until Charlie drives up to you. You order manapua but Charlie says, "No more, sold out." Then you look up the road and see the Meyers eating manapua. Auwe. But Charlie died and a new ice cream truck made its way down Mano Avenue.

Farmer Mac was a red volkswagon bus that played music. While Charlie rang the bell, Farmer Mac had stupid music. But when we heard the music, we would head down the driveway waving our dollar flagging him down. We would always order drumstick ice cream. It was so routine, everytime Farmer Mac would stop he would open the refrigerator and hand us ten drumsticks. But one day we changed our order. When he stopped and pulled in front of us, he said, "I know, ten drumsticks." We said, "No, we like ten sandwiches." Threw the guy off. As he drove down the street, we would run and jump on the back bumper until he would stop and yell at us often swearing. We did the same to Charlie but he was too old to do anything.

Now that I live in Indiana and hear the music coming from an ice cream truck, I say to myself, "Farmer Mac!" Oh the subtle sounds of growing up in Nanakuli.

I grew up in Nanakuli and graduated from Nanakuli High in 1976. I am currently living in Ft. Wayne, Indiana where I am pastoring a congregation and finishing my doctoral work next year. After I complete my doctorate, I will return and start a church on Maui. My parents still live in Nanakuli on Mano Avenue.

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Written by Chris M. Urmeneta

I suppose as a kid, most of us felt that their mom was the greatest cook that ever lived.   Well,  I can think of at least seven kids that would have  voted ours as being that person.

Ahhhh, the fragrances of home cooking that escaped from that kitchen ... and I  suppose she never actually used a recipe to create any of those tasty dishes prepared in huge pots, because there were so many hungry mouths to feed.  From just " a little bit of this...and a little bit o' that' came food that quickly disappeared soon after we all sat down to eat.

Back then,  rice seemed to fit in with every meal and a 100# bag never lasted very long.   She'd pick fresh vegetables out of our  own garden, combined with pork or beef  (we raised our own assortment of farm animals), add a few spices, and  before too long  we'd be filling our plates.   It was "first come, first served" and if you weren't around when the food was ready,  don't complain if there was no leftovers.

Now I must say that if there was one dish she used to cook that I didn't like and still don't.   It was one of Dad's favorites and it had bittermelon in it.  I'll never forget how I  would manage to avoid eating it only until  Dad caught on and made me eat it anyway. BUT ... just about everything else was absolutely great. I think Filipino food must have been her specialty, much to the delight of us all, especially  Dad.

Mom would also make jams and jellies( with papaya, mango, figs, etc.) and desserts like zucchini bread and  bread pudding (Uncle Eroy worked for Holsum Bread and kept us supplied) , homemade butter and so much more.    We had our own kitchen magician!

Those were the days!    It's a part of growing up on the north shore that we kids will never forget.

Chris Urmeneta was raised on the North Shore of Oahu and went to Kahuku High School ('67).  He is married with two grown children in their 20's. He and his family live in Tulsa, Oklahoma.  Chris is a purchasing agent for a hospital based durable medical equipment company in Tulsa.

To be able to say I was born and raised in Hawaii makes me proud.  I miss the Islands and think of my old friends and classmates often.  Kahuku, class of '67... E-mail me. I sure would like to hear from you!! (ex- Sunset big wave rider).

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Written by George K. Cabral

One day, my big bruddah had his friends over at the house.  I had some of my friends hanging out too.  My big bruddah and his "gang" used to call us small kids "maninis"...as in "eh you maninis no can follow us..." But us "maninis" use to tag along anyways...cuz..we like act beeg, eh?

Being bored on a hot sunny afternoon, my brother and his "boys" got some old corrugated roofing iron that was just lying around. You know da kine you can find all ova da place. Garanz going poke your feet if you step on it..  Use to use them on da Quonset huts like my sista, Momi, use to live in right across our place.

Anyways, I must have been about 10 or 11 at the time, us "maninis" were niele  what they was  doing with the roofing iron they had. We watched as they got some hammers out and a saw with a bunch of old 2x4's, old nails.  Eh..you know da kine nails...the ones you pull out of old lumber and gotta straighten 'em out by pounding 'em with the hammer...usually you hit your finga' cuz...you trying for keep the nail from flying and poking your eye out....hooo I can tell you one story about dat...but that's anudda story !!

They got some tar and started building with this material.  Us "maninis" could not resist all this activity !! We joined in. We was just copyin' them..  What we all eventually built each was a canoe.  I guess we had maybe 5 or 6 of em'.  You pound out the roofing iron till it was flat.  Bend it together and hammer the ends together with a short 2x4 on each side which formed the canoe.  With two 2x4's in the middle to work as a seat and to nail in an outrigger with longer 2x4's and an old log if you could find one as the outrigger or whateva kine stuff like empty plastic Clorox bottles.

The paddles was usually one piece of board if you was lucky or you  use your hands.  Now we'd fill in the holes and the two ends with the tar on da canoe.  And presto, we had our own homemade local kine canoe !! Hoo da proud we wuz of our creations !!  We had visions of paddling out between the sets...and then paddling to catch one wave...then cruising in on the white water crest  just like in da beach boys at Waikiki...eh..if Duke Kahanamuku could do it...eh..we could too !!

Then it was off to Uleawa beach to test dem buggas out. But first had "trial run" out in da riva where it was calm to make sure it could float and check fo' leeks and patch em' up with more tar.  No like make "A" down da beach, eh?  Then it was off into da ocean. The canoes worked until you tried to catch one wave.  Then it would slowly sink into the ocean.  Ay Yah !! What would Duke do??

We had to pull  the canoe out and dump the water out and go at it again.  We all had a lot of good fun doing crazy stuff like that.  It did hold up pretty good and we did paddle all over the place with it.  We also had to stay in the water for a long time to get the tar off.  We neva like go too far out because of the barracuda and the stingray in the deeper part of the ocean.  Somewhere beneath the waves out at Uleawa there are a few metal canoes under all that sand made from tin roof panels, 2X4's, old nails and tar..... the genius of the creative imaginations of some kids on a hot sunny afternoon.

Later on in the years I joined the Leeward Canoe club down at Waianae.  I guess everything comes around or influences you in some way or form. Living in Hawaii, most of us were children of the sea anyway.  So naturally we did a lot of bodysurfing at first and later moved on to the Piafo board which also supplemented for the sand sliding board if you didn't have a skeg on it.  It was a cheap sport at the time.

I mean what did you need then ? A pair of fins and you could bodysurf. An old piece of plywood to either piafo or sand slide.  Us "maninis" use to stay in the water all morning and maybe come out wen we got little bit tired and cold then sit up on da wall at Uleawa in da sun and get so papa'a dat we look like one popolo.

Eh, wen we got hungry, we just wen go find some empty return bottle (da big one was 10 cents and da small one 5 cents) and turn em' in fo' get somthin' to eat.  Like one bag see moi or one bag won ton chips or get one bunch penny candies (I guess no more dat kine) and then back to Uleawa and in da water again.

Eventually,  I moved on to the standard surfboard and finally bought a kneeboard with the help of my sister, Lulu and stayed with that. You know what I see now? Kids that don't have the imagination to find something to keep them busy like we did with our imagination and very little money. I'm not so sure what happened.  Was it the television that took  the imagination away? Maybe it was the TV that did it !!  TV did it ALL for you...just sit in front of it ...and it did it for you... you don't need imagination to watch TV.. just some eyeballs and ears....hmmmm...I dunno....something happened... what do you think??

As a kid, if you gave me a block of wood...I saw...a truck...an airplane... a racecar...suddenly I was on a ship on it's way to high adventure in the South Pacific !!   I think if you gave a kid today a block of wood... he would ask "eh..wea do you put da batteries??"

It was special to grow up in Hawaii.  I have a good friend from Hawaii who lives here in Germany, her name is Donna she  says, "People really missing out... that was never raised in Hawaii." I have to agree... the older I get...the more I appreciate where I came from....I treasure the "Hanabuddah Days" ...Everytime my wife gets into one of her "clean-up-throw-out" moods...she asks me about the old block of wood in the garage...I tell her...."honey, don't even think about throwing away my imagination !!  Did I ever tell you about the time my bruddah and I built some tin canoes??"

George K. Cabral was born in Wahiawa and raised in Nanakuli, Oahu.  He graduated from Nanakuli High in 1973.  He joined the Army thereafter and shipped over to Germany where he spent almost 22 years of service.  He retired in 1996 and is now working in Operations as a Government employee for the Army in Bamberg, Germany.  He and his wife have two girls and have settled down and made a home there.  They try to get back to Hawaii every three years or so to visit the Ohana there and get that Aloha spirit and go back to Uleawa and maybe find one of those canoes.

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Written by George Cabral

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When I was three years old my parents moved to Nanakuli just off Farrington Highway. Our house was a couple of blocks from the old blue painted B&K store. You know, we were so happy back then... I wouldn't trade those memories for anything in the world.

Our house only had 2 bedrooms.  My parents, of course, had their own bedroom.  The girls outnumbered the boys..so, Leimomi, Luella and Leiolani had their own bedroom. Me and bruddah  Frank had the living room floor with mattresses. It wasn't too bad, my bruddah and I always had a good time joking around at night till daddy would yell, "Eh you guys...go sleep already !!"

You know, today's kids have toys that don't take very much imagination. It doesn't take too much imagination to play Gameboy ... what I had was a a couple plastic soldiers that I found somewhere and an open bed toy truck. Oh man, the stories I would make up. I had one cardboard box that became one army barracks...me and my army fought in the jungles and mountains... then there was an "army" of neighborhood kids that would play in a deserted quarry next door ... hoo the adventures we had !!

I was just about 4 years old when an Army convey passed by on Farrington highway in front of the house...full on with trucks, jeeps and tanks... that was it... I was hooked !  Little did I know that I was to become a Tanker in the 1st Armored Division in Germany..a long long way from beloved Nanakuli years later..

The houses in Nanakuli were fairly high off the ground and it was great for playing under there if it rained.  It was also a good place to hide especially if you was going get lickens ... like most parents of our generation ... if you get hurt doing something you not supposed to... you get lickens first den get "repaired".

I remember how Mom and I would, once in a great while, when we had a little money, would fry up some scrambled eggs and take the rice from yesterday along with some soy sauce.  We'd go down to the beach at puka-pants across from Hakimo road and spend the day there till everyone else got home. I can still hear the crashing of the waves as I played on the beach with Mom nearby. Of course I couldn't swim that great but there are a lot of little pools there for a small kid.  In the later years my friends, Harry and Alex loved to play football on the coral road by the house....eh, I think I still have scars from skidding on the coral  playing Nanakuli style football.

Dad was one crane operator on Sand Island.  It was always a special day on paydays.  I was pretty proud to see him operate that crane from a distance.  Dad would bring home that plain Hershey candy bars for us kids (one per).  If we were lucky we'd go pick Dad up in the old car and go in the store with them and get to pick one thing out to eat.  For me that was usually a 10-cent bag of see moi. Eh..in those days 10 cents bought you one pretty decent size bag !!

When we would go shopping, the smell of the groceries in the car was heaven for me.  It was one of the few times as a young kid where I'd get to see the world beyond Nanakuli.  Taking the old road from home past all the Keawe trees between Nanakuli and Campbell's Industrial Park I'd get to see a lot.  Sometimes we'd drive past between Makakilo and the Ewa cut-off where they had all the sugar cane fields and they'd be burning the cane.  We'd slow down cause was hard to see the road.  Sometimes I thought we'd never get through all that smoke.

When I think of Nanakuli, I think of Plumeria flowers...the sweet smell drifting on the early morning air...I took that for granted as a kid. Our Hawaii has special aromas and colors that can never be captured anywhere else.  In a way, where I live now in Germany reminds me of my small kid days in Nanakuli because there is a sense of Ohana in our neighborhood and you can walk the streets without worry.

Times have changed our Hawaii and that's life, I guess...but in my heart I am still that "Nanakuli Boy" with the short pants...walking down the road with my boogie board hoping the waves are up.

George K. Cabral was born in Wahiawa and raised in Nanakuli, Oahu, two blocks from B & K store.  He graduated from Nanakuli High in 1973.  He joined the Army thereafter and shipped over to Germany where he spent almost 22 years of service.  He retired in 1996 and is now working in Operations as a Government employee for the Army in Bamberg, Germany.  He and his wife have two girls and have settled down and made a home there.  They try to get back to Hawaii every three years or so to visit the Ohana there, get that Aloha spirit, smell the Plumeria and sample some See Moi !!

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