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Written by Kamaka Brown

We was living Lusitana Street behind the Board of Water Supply in dem days. The houses were close together between the mango and fig trees growing tall and bushy. I neva know it den but we wuz what you call today one "blue collar" neighborhood.

Charlie Freitas was one custodian at Central Intermediate School. His wife worked at Young Laundry. They both left early in da morning at the same time. Like clock work his Plymouth Belvedere would start up at five thirty. I could hear his cigarette cough and creaky car springs moan as he lowered his big frame into the driver's seat next to his small wife, Mugsy with her cup of coffee and da Honolulu Advertiser in her lap. I could see all dis from my bedroom window in the grey blue dawn of a Punchbowl morning.

The Chun's lived next to Charlie dem. One Pake family with five kids. Gary was my age. Him and me walked to school together most days. Gary's fuddah and muddah had one shop down Chinatown. I think was noodle shop because da fuddah always came home with his white pants, white shirt and white apron. He looked like he was playing in flour. His hands, arms and face appeared to have been dusted in da stuff. Gary's muddah sometimes gave my muddah one box of cake noodle. I recognized the box from the boxes I saw in their garage stacked up all flat, wrapped in plastic.

And so it was in the neighborhood, working families of humble means going about their lives in the quiet hum of the city. Behind us was Moses dem. The fuddah was one bus driver for Honolulu Rapid Transit...we called it HRT or Da Bus. Dis was before Frank Fasi came along and officially named it "Da Bus". Once in a while Moses' boy, Sammy and me would walk down to the car barn down Alapai street to Beretania and catch his fuddah's bus. We would ride all day in da summer time up Tantalus, Round Top and Papakolea. Wen da fuddah would stop for one smoke break, me and Sammy go inside da Pake store and buy Black Jack Gum and Cracker Jacks, da one wit da toy inside. Oh yeah, and Creme Soda!

My muddah was working at da Royal Hawaiian Hotel in dem days. It was the Ed Kenny and Beverly Noa Show in the Monarch Room. Summertime on a Friday nite, my fuddah would take us down da beach outside the Monarch Room and we would watch the show from the beach. Chasing sand crabs on the beach as the sun set off Diamond Head. Watching couple ole guys with metal detectors walking at the water's edge looking for treasures.

Sometimes Emma Veary and Alfred Apaka's son Jeff would sing. Jeff's father had already make and everyone hoped he would follow in the tradition of his father. The rich vocals of those wonderful voices rode the gentle trade winds over the sand and danced among the white caps of the warm pacific ocean of Waikiki. Once in a while a shooting star flashed leaving a trail in the velvet canopy sky.

You know what? We neva know we was blue collar! Custodian Charlie Freitas wore one white t-shirt and jeans to work. Mrs. Freitas wore her "Kalakaua Bowlers" shirt to work. Mr. Chun always had his white shirt. Moses had his HRT green shirt and my muddah always wore her black and white uniform. No one I knew wore blue collar!

So wea did that come from? Eh? I like know. Somebody some wea came up with the color BLUE. Eh, I don't have anything against blue but it seems to me that blue didn't describe the working class of people I grew up among.

We were certainly more colorful den that. At best you can say we were KALAKOA COLLAR ... and even NO COLLAR when we walking around without a shirt ..except Mrs. Frietas, of course, when she was hanging clothes in the back yard with her bathing suit top and shorts. Now what kine collar was that?

In dem days all the color collars blended in. I don't think any of us stopped to think what kine color our collar was. We were COLLAR BLIND. Somehow, I think that was also the reason we all got along so well. All the nationalities and cultures exsisted side by side in the easy harmony of the local lifestyle in Hawaii all wearing anykine color collars!  Eh, try check right now, what color your collar stay. I bet'chu it not going be blue! And the color of the collar becuz you neva wash your neck no count, gunfunnit!!

Kamaka Brown is on staff with AlohaWorld. He is a writer, entertainer and motivational speaker. He performs stand up comedy at clubs, concerts and entertainment venues in Hawaii, Las Vegas, the West Coast and Pacific Northwest. His comedy page can be found at kamaka.alohaworld.com

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Written by George K. Cabral

As a small keed, every season brings a different thing to do wen u live in Hawaii. It was fall. The sun was still up and fairly strong but a cool breeze would always be blowing with a crisp wind in the air. Now that I think about this, it wasn't cold at all compared to what I've gone through now. But eh, I no like go into the "how tough wuz wen we wuz keeds yah"?

So as keeds it was what we called Kite season. You could buy a kite at B&K owah go git da betta selection ones down at Nakatani stoa, but eh like we get money as small keeds? Not! Even through it was only about 25 cents we just didn't have that kind of money those days. Could try and find enough bottles if you were lucky and buy one, but being innovative with making our own toy guns and carts why buy it wen we can try make owah own?

OK, dis wat we do, first go find some small thin pieces of wood to build the frame of your standard kite. You know, just two pieces tied together in a cross with string that we got from home. I wen git dis big roll I got from home (to this day my Madda dunno wot wen happen to that roll of string). And I can still hear the question later that day wen I went home, "George, u seen da roll string?, No I neva Mom.) Hmmm...goin' have to tell her wun day yah? Mabbe next time I go home yah?

Anyway, back to the building of the kite. We went and got some old newspapers from da Star Bulletin and cut them out to fit the kite with liddo bit extra to ovalap da string we goin' put on. We run da string from each edge of the sticks to form a kind of diamond shape. Then we'd put the paper over it and use either old poi or rice as glue (bugga work good wit dat). Da onli glue we had wuz at school. An das it, wuz fo' school not fo' play. We left dem deah in school in da classroom. We'd go find some old rags to make a tail to tie at the bottom, punch a small hole a third of the way from the top and a third o da way from the bottom to run some string again and tie the rest of the string to it (hope I neva lose u guys?). Put another tie of string on the back to bend it backwards and "huiii" we git owah own homemade kine kite. Eh, so wot we no moa nice colors on em', but wen still work. An wuz all done wit da imagination since no moa money yah?

We would fly em' from the Quarry next to B&K past da riva cause there was no telephone lines or houses in the way ova deah. We would just fly it a short distance, pull it back in and take it back out again. We'd spend hours keeping busy with our kites. And wen I mean "we" it wuz even da girls in da neibahood. We all played together no matter wot race or gender. Us boys would even jump rope wit da girls and play jacks an hop scotch. Neva mak "A" doing dat. Only make "A" wen u loose but some things da girls could do much better than da boys could. Da girls could even play football an Baseball wit us. A lot of em' made good receivers cause deh wuz fast on da feet. Deh could even smack dem baseballs pretty far.

We would even have kite fights with our old homemade kites using just one string.  A lot of da control wuz wit da tail an how much u bend da back of da kite. Nothing like today's high speed kites that have 4 or more lines on them. Eh, we did pretty good wit owah homemade kine kites.

One day, Boy, Clifford, Bobo (some of my portagee friends) and myself put all our strings togedda and wen decide fo' fly this one kite dat we wen build togeddah so high it was up above the mountain by Hakimo Road (u no da wun wit da bunka on top dat separate Maile from Nanakuli?). It was really high but the wind was so strong since wuz so high that after about one hour or so it wen buckalose from us. Well, there went the kite and all our string. At first we wuz going to try and chase it down and get it back but eh, we not going to climb that mountain then. Was too bad owah kite, but we had plenty fun buildin' an flyin' dem. K den, back to da buildin' board an make wun nadda wun yah?

Ah...the seasons of imagination growin' up in Hawaii nei yah? Nothing like it.

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 as a Government employee for the Army in Bosnia with the Deployed Operations Group. He and his wife, Jutta have two daughters, have settled down and made a home in Bamberg, Germany. They get back to Hawaii every three years or so to visit Ohana and maybe go find his ole' kite up Hakimo Road.

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Written by Chris M. Urmeneta

I went to school in Kahuku from kindergarten until I graduated in1967. Growing up in Sunset Beach meant riding the school bus every day and usually the routine trip was fairly uneventful.

We'd always head out down our driveway early to wait for the bus to come. Often when it rained a lot, our front yard would get flooded and we had to throw our school books on a big raft we had built, climb on and with the help of a long pole, guide the raft across the water to the road where the bus would stop to pick us up.

Mr. Shinn, our neighbor, who lived down the road , next to the Chung's, had a well that would overflow and some of the fish he kept it in would find their way into our yard. I can still remember how stink the grass would smell for days after the water went down.

I must have been about nine or ten years old on that afternoon thatthe school bus came to stop in front of our house. The bus driver pushed on the handle that allowed the door to fold open and I jumped out. Books in hand, I ran towards the back of the bus and made a dash across the street. Just as I was about to step from behind the bus into the oncoming lane of traffic, something made me stop and look up the street. And as I did, a big Coca-cola truck shot past me, missing me by inches and spinning me (still standing) in the street.

To this day, I can't believe how I managed to not get run over by that truck. I was very dizzy and in a state of shock and I remember looking down the street in the direction that truck was headed and seeing his brake lights come on. He came to a stop only momentarily,long enough to see that I had not been hurt and then drove away.

Tears flowed when the inital shock wore off and my knees felt weak. "Divine intervention", words I'd never heard as a child, surely was involved that day and allowed me the opportunity to look back and realize how fortunate I had been.

Hmmmm... could this have any deep psychological influence on my preference of Pepsi over Coke? Naaaaaaaaaaaah! Probably not... I think!

"My parents were living in Koko Head when I was born so many years ago. We moved to the north shore, where I went to Kahuku (Go Red Raiders!) from kindergarten until I graduated in 1967. I made my solo singing debut at Pupukea Community Center, near the old Niimi store and grew up spending countless days surfing and riding my bellyboard with my childhood friend, Jimmy (a.k.a. "Spanky") Cullen, our neighborhood ukelele superstar. I now live in Tulsa, Oklahoma, (Bible Belt, U.S.A.) where I run a mobility equipment business and enjoy life with my beautiful wife. How sweet it is!!"

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Written by Sharon Iwasa Perkins

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Dese days I teach kindergarten keikis on da mainland. I live in Pittsburg, California, so I get plenny pilipino, Chinee, popolo an haole students, an everybody in my school know I da Hawaiian teachah. (Dey say I Hawaiian, even though I Japanee, because I ack like I from Hawaii. An wen ouah school have da luau at the end of every year, I always da one cook da food an bring da music. Mos of dem have been to Hawaii an dey bring me back stuff, so I real lucky live heah, I tink. An actually, da parents treat me like I Queen Liliuokalani, cause I one real good teachah.)

Anyhow, wen we learn about insects an reptiles an stuff lidat, I tell dem alla kine stories about wen I was a kid in Hilo. An my students nevah foget my storees! Da firs grade teachah tell me dat dey remembah my storees.

Like about da cockaroaches. One time, my muddah an fadduh was so excited because da kahu from ouah church wen ask ouah ohana to his house fo a party.

He had one haole lady visiting from da mainland an I guess dat's why we had da party. Kahu liked parties, especially cause he like eat. He was pupuli, like maybe 300 pounds, an always laughing and cracking jokes. We love ouah Kahu, he teach my Japanee family how fo hug.

He had one nice wife an five keikis, an one small kine house. Dese days he get one house in Keaukaha, because he Hawaiian, but back den he didn't so his house was real small. Had plenny emportant people deah, alla deacons on da church board. Dey was all nice peepol, wid lots of kids, an we keikis ran all ovah da house.

Was ouah first time at deah house so I check out all da rooms. Had green carpet an regulah furnitures, like from da seventies, notting special.

Da kitchen was real small, with hokaplenty grinds all ovah da table an da counters! Had somen salad, teriyaki beef, taco salad, plenny rice, mochi chicken wings, spaghetti, kim chee dip an daikon dip, an moah. My madduh had made some rainbow Jello, da kine wid red-green-white, red-green-white. I can still remembah Kahu say, "Ho, broke da mouth!" He always say dat at ouah church potlucks. So I was eating mochi chicken wings an I went to da living room, an da lady from the mainland visiting da kahu was deah.

An she spoke good English an I foget why I didn't like her, maybe cause she was so quiet an nevah talk too much to nobody. She was wearing a beige polyester dress an pantyhose (an it was hot! ) an brown high heel shoes an she had brown hair all curled an teased up like one "helmet". An she was sitting, eating from her paper plate, on da sofa. Was one hot night, like in August, an we was all sweatin',. Alla sudden I heard one scream an I look up an had like 5 or 6 bambucha cockaroaches flyin across da living room, an one wen go in da haole lady's hair! She wen scream an dance aroun, an we keikis was laffin so hard!

Was mostly keikis in da living room, but wen da lady scream, Kahu's wife came wiki wiki an was goin help da lady but da roaches was still divebombing so she yelled, "Come out from deah!" an da lady got da roach out of her hair an ran out screamin! Well, all da kamaaina grownups preten nottin happen aftah dat. But on da way home, my muddah and fadduh wen laugh up about da lady. I don tink dey like her eedah. Musta been cockaroach mating time... Ass one good party!

In kindergarten we also learn about reptiles. Reptiles stay coldblooded. I know, cuz one time, me an my madduh an fadduh wuz driving down Kaiwiki road one cold, rainy Hilo night, an I was rolling up da window of our Dodge Dart, wen alla sudden I felt this wet, cold splat on my NECK! "Dad, Dad!" I wen scream. "Stop da cah!" "Whassa madda you?" he wen ask, but I was screamin and bouncin all ovah so he wen stop, an wen da light came on, was one wet gecko on da floor! Da buggah wen smile at me.I no can touch em, da geckos.

But one time I was teachin summer fun in Honolulu, an one of da fifth grade boys wen pick up a brown, little gecko. An he rub da sucka's belly till da gecko fell asleep in his hand, upside down. An he an his frens wen show eveebody, an dey try fo scare me, cuz dey know I scared geckos. Actually, was kinda cute. But I still no can touch em.

Mainland bugs an geckos are boring. My kindergartners nevah foget my stories!

About Author

I was born at Hilo Hospital in 1965. I lived in Hilo till I went to UH Manoa in 1984, graduated with a BA in Spanish in 1987, and then got married in 1991. I am an early childhood educator, and have taught in Hilo, Honolulu, Virginia, Nebraska and now California. I directed a preschool in California and am now teaching kindergarten at a school in Concord, CA. Am telling all my kamaaina friends about AlohaWorld.

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Written by R. Mapuana Cottell

When we were children, my cousins and I had more fun than most kids would. Lots of people chalk it up to love, and others chalk it up to childhood imagination. But if you ask any one of us, there isn't one in da bunch that would deny what I think it was : the fact that we are all Podahgee!

You see, if you are not of da "Pocho-pursuasion," then of course you will not know or even comprehend what fun and good times it is to be so. Okay, so maybe I am making it out to be more than what it actually is, but hey- I'm part Podahgee, an' all us Pocho kine guys make EV'RY'TING mo' beeg 'den it really is! (Eh, you evah met one Podahgee who nevah talk wit' 'dey hanz? Okay den, you know what I stay tah-keen about!)

Okay, so when we was keedz we had a supah-terrific time all 'da time. We had each other and nothing else mattered. There are times in my memory that come back to me, sometimes out of the blue, and I cannot help but laugh out loud! Back 'den my mom would be shaking her head and saying "Aye-yah! Look all deeze Podahgees! Gunfunit anyhow!" everytime we would do or say something. This is because all us guys on my fuddah's side of da ohana get extra-supah strength kine Pocho blood. An' dis' kine blood go make yo' mout' run longer, make yo' brain run efficiently at half pow-ah, and for some odd reason even da mos' lolo tings dat we do is somehow okay (I call it Pocho insurance." Eh no blame me, I'M PODAHGEE!") There were plenty of times that I am positive that Ma would have hidden in a closet if there were one close enough (because remembah that Podahgee runs efficiently at half pow-ah), but I also know that like me and all my cousins, those memories are like precious gold heirlooms and there is nothing in this world like them, nor anything that can ever replace them. I am funny, and indeed it is because of that part of me that tells me I can whip up one broke-da-mout' batch of malasadas, eef only I could fi'gah out a way to stop da' shoo-gah from pouring out of da bottom of 'da bag!

One thing that stands out in my mind is the pride that my cousins had in, of all things, BVDs. Das right...you read it right BVDs , as in undah-wear. My Tutu, the late Walter Soares of Pauoa Valley (RIP Tutu man), was such a funny guy. He was the self proclaimed Gov'nah of Namilimili Street and Nana (still kickin' and eating like she was one young keed!)was "'da Queen." It seemed odd to me while growing up, and after I became old enough to know that perhaps there was more life than ExLax and Nana's obsession with it, that my grandfather had this weird fixation on underwear. And it wasn't the normal perverted kind obsession either. It was the kind that would make him announce out loud that " today we going to Mervyn's an' we go buy one package BVDs fo' Chris...Ka-trine...eh...you listening o' wot?" and of course she was, but Tutu always assumed that nobody listened to him. Okay, so I nevah until I was somebody's mother but who's counting, yeah?

We were at a family reunion that was held in Wainapanapa Falls Park. There were at least a hundred of us. It was my Nana's family, the Aoki clan, that this was a reunion for. And you could totally tell which of the herd was the pochos. We all had that same blank stare on our faces. We had shirts that matched each other with the name "SOARES" emblazoned on da back, shining and calling out to the rest of the family that we were there, we were proud, we were PODAHGEE. (Eh, we weren't so podahgee to not eat da 'opihi dat was on dat rocks dat was right next to one little kine statue dat had one kapu on 'em...but my podahgee cousin Jason, my fuddha's sistah and jes about everyone else but us smaht podahgees wen' suffah from food poisoning!)

One night came an' we all had to have a banner that would define our family's most important stuff. Being from a church going and music playing family, we had da bes' presentation.Uncle Reggie an' my cousin Kalani wrote one song called 'Wainapanapa '85' eh, we had 'ipus and ev'ry'ting. My little bruddah did one break dance an' foun' out dat you no can make one head spin on dirt. Me an' Jason did one skit. He was Tutu and I was Nana an' we sang "Da Hawai'ian Wedding song" while dressed in bathrobes, ovah-sized pajamas and beeg worn out house-slippah (really funny!). We got a lot of applause, but not one 'ting could have prepared dat crowd of onlookers for what was to come nex': Da family flag.

The flags were very decorative, all bearing things that would describe what was most important to those smaller branches of the larger ohana. There was one with hula and music, many bore petroglyphs and names of civic clubs that the respective families belonged to. Then came ours.

We were very proud of that banner. It symbolized all that our family thought was most important: trust, love, and a bonding that not even the Krazy Glue construction guy could have matched. The other banners were sewn and pressed and rolled, but ours was made on a whim and had several different uses. Ours was the most unique and it got the most laughs, the most stares, and when we first rolled it out, there was a hushed silence.

He he! Geeze! All dat commotion from one pair of skeed-mahk BVDs!

And at that very moment in time, our family became known as "The Republic of BVD," wit' Tutu on da throne and Nana right there always asking heem eef he needed mo' pepah!

Ahhhh was so much fun when we was keedz!!!

I live in the SoCal high desert town of Helendale. I have two keikis and one beeg haole who now qualifies to be one honorary "Podahgee from Moloka'i". I write, dance hula, cook ono grines and raise da keedz.

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Written by Izzie Kikue

User Rating: 5 / 5

You know... Keiki (children) stay always learning lessons, yeah? We watch dem learn life's lessons and sometimes so funny dat you goddah buss out laughing. And den, uddah times, dey go thru' hahd times and all you can do is geeve dem one big, long hug and tell dem dat every teeng going be beddah soon.

I bet, if you try teenk back to wen you was one keed, you wen learn lessons one of two ways. You eeedah wen go learn da lesson da easy way, or learn'um da hahd way. Well, try go read dis story and go figah out which way I wen go learn one of life's lesson.

Wen I was one small keed, around da age of 9 yeeyahs young, my ohana made it one habit to go camping down Kaaawa beach, juss pass da old ruined sugah mill and juss befo' you get to Punaluu as you coming from da Windward sai. Doze were da days of carefree bliss undah da bright Hawaiian sun, pearly sands and clear watahs. Camping was one treat fo' my bruddah and myself 'cause it also meant dat we would be spending da summah wit all our cousins, aunties and uncles. Was truly one family reunion wenevah we went.

Anyway, getting to da meat of da story.... One day my fuddah wen go geeve me one whole dollah fo' spend. Was one of da rare times when I must have done someteeg good and got rewarded. So den, of course, I wen head to da stoah down da street like one bumble bee going aftah one nectar dripping lilikoi flowah. I no have to tell you how my mout must have been dripping wit anticipation fo' my favorite candy! RED LIQUORISH, or as they call it today, RED VINE. Eh, no ask me why dat particular candy was my obsession back den, but I'm shuah if you teenk back to yo'wah hannabuddah days, I bet you could name at least a 1/2 dozen ono kine candies you used to like eat back den.

Wen my makas (eyes) wen go spawk (see) dat treasure of red liquorices sitting on Uncle Barney's store counter, whooooohooooo! I couldn't wait until I get some in my mout!

"Gimme 100 of doze, Uncle Barney", I pointed to da delicious red candies and tugged on the store owner's T-shirt.

"What? ...You going have one liquorish pah'tee today?" He wen go ask me in amazement, making shuah he counted 100 precious tummy ticklers.

I made shuah I wen wrap da buggahs good so dat wen I stick em in my elastic waist band in my pants behind my back undah my T-shirt, da buggahs wasn't going fall out and be lost. You might be wondering how come I wen go stick da candies in'sai my pants behind my back, yeah? *hee hee* Maybe you was one keed like me and you don't have to wondah about dat, cause you already get one pretty good idea why I was hiding da buggahs.

Approaching da campgrounds... there was my cousins playing dodge ball. Even befoah anyone could ask me wheah I was, I wen sneak behind da tent so dey no see me. Da same way I wen sneak da bag of candies in my pants behind my back undah my T-shirt, I was hiding'um from dem. Eh, I had 100 of doze treasures, and I nevah like SHARE! Tippy-toe, pass da coconut trees, pass da uddah tents... if my moddah was one lion in Africa, she would be so proud of da way I could sneak around and not be heard or seen. Whooooohoooo, I was good!

There was a patch of low growing mangroves about a quartah mile down da beach wea I knew I wasn't going be boddah'd. As soon as I wen clear da tents, I wen break out in one fass sprint.... my legs was beating da sand so hard and my mout was wide open fo' gulp in da air so dat I no faint from lack of oxygen. I bet if sum'buddy was watching, they'd teenk I wen see one obake (ghost) and I was running fo' my life! As soon as I wen hit da mangroves I wen spring so high landing on one of da branches, catapulting up to da next branch, den vaulting, yet, to one uddah branch like one monkey dat could have given lessons to Tarzan himself! Finally... at da most tippy-top my okole (butt) got parked. Way up dea, above da sand, I could watch da waves crash on da shore and roll right up undah da mangrove, where, I was finally all by myself, wit my 100 red l liquorishs. Is dat not Keiki heaven, or what?

One by one... bite by bite.... doze red treasures was disappearing. Nibble by nibble, I was on top of da world until ... WEA WENT? Not quite 100 of the red liquorices were gone, but was close. Whoooooo... minutes passed. What was dat 'oogie' feeling beginning to creep all ovah da body. You know da kine sensation you get wen yo'wah skeen staht to crawl and beads of sweat staht oozing out at da forehead even doe not hot. Plus da swaying of da branches I was sitting in nevah help at all, and da constant rolling in of da waddah undaneet me down below was enough to trigger....

Auwe! As fass as da candy wen in, dat buggah came right on up and out! Look out below! Good ting nobody was walking below because they'd wondah how come was raining red! Yeah, yeah, I know dis is kind of gross. But it happened!

And I'm only telling you dis story because there is a lesson in most EVERYTHING, if you are willing to learn. As one keiki, I wen learn da HARD WAY how "NOT" to be one selfish, greedy, oinking pig. Being one selfish keiki at dat time wen only get me SICK. Maybe for litto while, I wen enjoy. But give it time in my selfishness, wen really wen turn my stomach!

And den? How you figah dis litto lesson would apply to us as adults? What if we consider da candy in da story da ALOHA we all have? We can be like one litto stingy, selfish, greedy keiki and HOG what we have, keeping it to ourselves. I don't know about you, but I wen learn my lesson long ago. Dat 'candy' was meant to be shared. And if I shared it back then, I wouldn't have gotten sick to my stomach and fed da crabs. You can bet your slippahs dat I not going do dat again. Unlike candy, ALOHA is a maddah of da heart. If we are selfish and play HOG with Aloha, our HEARTS would be SICK. Let's not learn da hahd way, yeah? Instead, we go share da ALOHA we have wit uddahs.

Izzie Kikue was born in Honolulu and raised in Kaneohe, Hawaii. She now resides with her ohana several minutes southeast of Atlanta, Georgia. Her career has involved being Director of Ministries and a Certified Biblical/Pastoral Counselor for a large Christian Ministry in Southern California and later in Georgia. With a Th.D. (Dr./Theology), she devoted much of her time and energy traveling to third world countries offering physical and spiritual aide to people who needed assistance due to war situations and other misfortunes. Izzie is currently taking a breather from overseas travels and is now focusing her time and energy on her nani daughter, as well as "Bringing Aloha to the Internet" as AlohaWorld*s co-owner and host.

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Written by Lovena Harwood

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I peered around the corner of the house. This was scary, but it was fun too. I sure as heck wasn't gonna get caught. Then I caught a glimpse of the broom and not a moment too late either. It just missed me by a fraction of a hair. At that moment I almost froze in my tracks. But I turned my butt around and hauled ass to the front of the house. I let out a scream and laughter at the same time to warn the others. As I entered the garage I turned to look over my shoulder to see if he was still after me. With the broomstick in his hands, waving it above his head, Grandpa was in a full run after me, yelling at thetop of his lungs, "Leave da fish alone! No make li'dat wit da fish in da pond o else I go git you and wrap dis broom around your okole!" I did manage to escape safely. The neighborhood kids and I settled down in our secret hiding place to plan our next fishpond attack.

As a young child, Grandpa's fishpond always fascinated me. I was fascinated with the bridge that went over the middle of the pond that led a visitor from the front gate to the front door. I was also fascinated with how easily the fish would eat from your hands. But I was even more fascinated with "wading" in Grandpa's fishpond! Don't know what kind of fish they were, but they were long, gray, slimey things that were especially easy to catch with a coffee can. You just took off your slippahs and when the coast was clear, step into the pond and try scoop up as many fish as you could with the coffee can without getting caught! It was always a game to see how long it took Grandpa to come running after me and neighborhood kids with his broomstick. He'd chase us around the house before letting us escape to our secret hiding place.

Grandpa's house with the fishpond in the front yard is no longer there as the H1 Freeway now runs through the property. But I always laugh when I reminisce about Grandpa's fishpond. And I can't help but I think that it was more fun getting caught by Grandpa, than trying to catch the fish in his fishpond!

I was born in Wahiawa and raised in Pearl City on the island of Oahu. I now reside in Massachusetts just several minutes north of Boston. I'm happily married with two nani daughters, one in high school and the other in college. After being laid off from work as a process engineer due to company downsizing, I made the decision to make my hobby of soapmaking a business. I missed the "island ways" so it was with this inspiration that I started East Coast Tropics which specializes in handcrafted soaps made of Hawaiian luxury oils. I also enjoy both digital and non-digital photography.

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Written by Greg Librando

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I was born in Hana, Maui-October 18, 1932. When I was 5 years old my family moved to Kaupo, Maui.

I attended Kaupo School, the first and second grades. It was a large one-room schoolhouse, divided by a partition. There was one teacher whose name was Mrs. Mahalo. Her desk was between the partition and she taught all grades, 1st to the 8th. The school was about 100 yards away from our house ... we walked to school. There were about 30 students in the entire school.

There was also only one General Store with a Post Office in the community, "Nick Soon Store". This was the only place that had electricity and some times he would show movies for us in his garage.

There were only unpaved, dirt roads and we did not own a car, just donkeys and one horse. We had a big garden and raised our own vegetables ... I remember a lot of sweet potatoes. We worked very hard in the garden and cutting grass and Koa for the donkeys, baby goats, and horse. My father would go hunting for pigs or goats and sometimes the Kaupo Ranch would give us meat.

We didn't have any toys ... we played with marbles, tops and we would make our own toys with empty cans. We did play games at school.

On weekends our entire family, (sometimes with other families) would go to the beach to catch fish. We would go by donkeys and take some food to spend the entire weekend fishing.

My mother cooked a lot of fish, we ate a lot of wild greens, sweet potatoes, squash, beans, mangoes, guavas, wild plums, lots of natural things. My mother cooked on a wood stove. Later we had a kerosene stove, which was a luxury to us. We had no electricity, only kerosene lamps. (Like the hurricane lamps.) My mother ironed our clothes with a charcoal iron. All of our floors had lauhala mats on them. Every week, if the stream had water, we would go to wash our clothes; it was like a large community gathering, as nearly all of the families would be at the stream washing clothes. The same time we would gather wild coffee beans to make coffee.

We had to gather rainwater for our use, as water was not pumped into Kaupo until the late 1930's.

We wore denim pants, shirts (I don't remember ever wearing T-shirts,) and coveralls. I don't remember wearing shoes until I was in the 3rd grade at Hana School.

My father worked for Kaupo Ranch, my mom was a housewife. Every Sunday we went to church. The church use to have luaus but I don't remember if we ever had to pay to eat.

If we went to Hana, we walked nearly to Kipahulu then caught the mail truck to Hana. If we left Hana late, we had to walk for miles and miles in the dark to reach Kaupo ... no roads only trails.

There were many families living in Kaupo. It was a good size community. At times the community would get together at the school grounds and play volleyball or baseball.

I remember my first paying job, I was 8 years old and worked for Kaupo Ranch planting grass for 50 cents a day. That was a lot of money in those days.

When akule would come in at Nu'u Bay, the entire community would go for hukilau. Nu'u was a fishing village. Sometimes there was so much fish that every family would go home with bags of akule ... I remember we always did.

Those were hard. but fun days, which my children will never experience. Every time I go home to Maui, I try to go back to Kaupo.

Greg Librando, Jr. was born and raised in Hana, Maui (and Kaupo). Graduated from Hana High School in 1951. He and his wife, Aunty Maebelle, now live in San Fernando Valley (Southern California). Greg enjoys music and fixing old cars. He teaches ukulele at the San Fernando Japanese/American Center every Friday, and takes part in the Ventura Ukulele Jam every month. He also helps out the ukulele group in San Gabriel. He tries to return home to Maui annually to visit with Ohana, especially grandchildren and great grandchildren.

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