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Written by Tim Aukake Brown

User Rating: 5 / 5

At sixteen years old, da most awesome babes in school wuz Kainoa Kane. She was fine. And she wen' know dat too! She made one list of da bestest!

1. Best Legs
2. Bestest Sexy Smile
3. Bestest Big Muscle Body
4. Best Nicest White Teets (in da mouth li' dat)

Her had da' barking rights fo' dis' 'cause she was voted "Da Most Chest on one Surfah Chick" and also "Da Most Dreamed About" an den' "Da' Most Talk About When Da Subject of Smoof Skeen" wen' come up in P.E.

I sat behind her in Hawaiiana class. Ho ... She always had one gardinia flowah in her ear dat I could smell when she pass by fo' go sharpen her penso. I jes' no can help, but I always wuz trying fo' get her attention by lean ova my desk and trying fo' whispah one joke oah some 'ting ... but try fo' sniff her long e'hu hair too li'dat. You know dat neva work.

Cuz fo' all DAT ... I got voted "Da Class Portagee". Da Class Portagee mind you! I wasn't even Portagee!! I Hawaiian Irish, brah! And if dat wasn't nuff gunfunnit, I was voted first runner-up for "Da Bestest Legs on one Fat Boy".

She wen' pass out da results of her picks all ova da school. Her list fo' Most Sex Appeal, Awesome Kine Buns, Bestest Surfah Hair, drew choke peepohs around dea lockers and around dem in the caf lunch time. And from den' on every 'ting I said was suddenly so "Portagee" or "Mento". Fo' one exzampo, I could jes' roll my eyes, fut and burp in class and get sent to da principohs office. Howz dat! Dats not wat I wanted. But das how it wuz. I dunno, all I wanted fo' be wuz one of dohs surfa guyz who could whispah in Kainoa's hair and make her spin around and slap me one time on the po'o den turn back around wit one small kine puinsai grin on her face.

I wanted fo' be: "da Bestest Deep Sexy Voice" oah "da Rippah Surfah wit da awesome datsun truck and long straight e'hu hair and new lightning bolt board with new japslap slippahs", you know, some 'ting spesho! Not "Da Class Portagee" oah da "Bestest Legs on one Fat Boy" in Kaimuki High School.

Which den' till fo' evahs and mo far, going make me work mo' hard fo' make dis' Kainoa Kane start fo' spock me and look my way... and flash me da wuzzup shaka. Jes' wait and see cuz. Garanz!

Tim Aukake Brown (Kalani High School '73).

I was born on the North Shore (Waimea Falls Road) of O'ahu where life seemed easy. Plenty o'opu and mullet in the stream. You could ride horseback up the narrow dirt road that weaved between the blackberry and guava trees that led up to the falls. Life was great. I was raised in a family that was full of love, warmth and always rich in humor. Having wandered throughout, I again found Hawaii home. Settled on the slopes of the Koolau Mountains in Kaneohe with my family. For the past 12 years I've taken to express our Hawaiian heritage in the form of ceramic art. Me ke aloha pumehana.

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Written by Teddy Kamai

User Rating: 5 / 5

Growing up in the early 60's to the 80's was a time, in Lai'e, that I will cherish forever.  I remember big family gatherings, church functions, playing softball or basketball at Lai'e Park. Tackle football on the beach was against anyone who wanted to take us on !!  And you know..we never did lose a game !! Playing "hide and seek" in the Lai'e cemetery...eh no worry..we didn't step on any graves!!

I was just a country boy who took everything for granted  because all around me there was so much to enjoy...Lai'e had so much to offer. We had the whole Lai'e mountains and the Koolau range to explore on foot, back packing to Lai'e Falls or on bicycles up Scrambling Hills, jumping dirt mounds or just racing down the mountain from Pine Forest.

We always appreciated the beauty and bounty of fruits like mountain apples, vivee, guava,lilikoi, mangoes, plums and bananas.  We had the ocean and the famous Lai'e Bay to surf. Those big white  waves from the middle of the bay were perfect for me, my younger brother, Dale and friends like David Stant, Kenneth Kaio, and Paul Nihipali to name a few. We also had "Goat Island" another famous surfing spot for us guys and the locals just in front of Malaekahana Beach Park.

Oh ...and don't forget the Lai'e Point ! We used to thrill the tourist by jumping off the ledges. Da Kia's, John and Bill Naeole, Randal Navarez, John John Nauahi, Da Kanahele's, Da Moe's, Da Tapusoa's, Da Alisa's, Da Pukahi's..to just name a few, would leap off the cliff and make big bomb or one swan dive.

And of course, there's our favorite eating places, like Uncle Sam Choy's and Charlie Goo's store. Every day, before we catch the bus to Kahuku Intermediate and High School, we stop by one of these stores and buy our favorite "small kid time" breakfast.....Pake cake, the chinese tea cookie and chocolate milk..eh..Broke da mouth!!

We also play a lot of make up games like...PANI...you need 10 old soda cans..and you set 'em up in a pyramid..gotta get 2 teams of players even on each side..and one small dodge ball. Ok..now..the object of the game is that each player gotta set the cans up in a pyramid before getting hit with the ball or try avoiding getting hit with the ball.  You can catch the ball and bring in a team mate that was hit with the ball earlier.  This game could last all nite...I wonder why we all got up late for school the next day!

Another game we played was "chasing master". We did not have any boundaries, so this game went on all nite too...again late for school the next morning !!

There are so many things we do in Hawaii that is so unique. No other place in the world can compare to it. Take New Years Eve and the Fourth of July with all the fireworks..firecrackers, bottle rockets and aerials for days. Halloween was the best for kids living in Hawaii.  We would fill a whole duffle bag with candies and treats.  Your mother would put them all in candy jars so you don't eat them all in one sitting.  Then there's Thanksgiving and Christmas..family gatherings with all the local food you can think of.

We made kalua pig, kalo, sweet potato, kulolo, ulu, kalua turkey and chicken in the imu for just about any occasion..Broke the mouth !! That was the fun part of living and growing up in the country of Oahu.

Then there was times I used to sit back and listen to my dad, Ezekiel Kamai Sr.,everybody called him "Eassie"...play the guitar in the old style slack key..and boy he was AWESOME.  I wish I could have learned more from him.  He has passed on now..and left only these few memories of what's it is like to grow up in Hawaii.

I'm proud to be Hawaiian and I will always be until the day I die.  I will never forget what I learned during my small kid time in Lai'e.

Teddy Kamai grew up in Lai'e, Oahu and graduated from Kahuku High School in 1981. He served in the military in Germany, Italy, South Korea, Maryland and Arizona. He and his wife, Kahili, are now stationed in Japan.  Teddy enjoys playing sports and playing Hawaiian music on his guitar. Each year he and his wife return home to Lai'e to enjoy family, food, music ..."just to appreciate the Islands."

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Written by Lina J. Cardenas

I was the oldest of four children who grew up in Kilauea, a small sugar plantation town on the North east side of Kauai. Kilauea has grown since and its townsfolks have come and gone, but my memories are as clear as the crystal shores of Kahiliwai Beach.

My parents were immigrants from the Philippines. My dad was 56 when he married my mom in an arranged marriage who was 29 in 1964. I suppose that was the norm in the Filipino culture. I was born nearly a year later. Three more children followed, my two brothers and my sister. Dad, of course, worked in the plantation. My mom was a housewife. Yet as hard as my father worked and with our limited resources, he still found the time to build us the neatest playroom. He put together toys and gadgets made of material he could gather around the house. Sure, most of the toys may have not passed todays standard safety test, but who cared back then? We only knew to use our imagination and just have fun.

Other times he would take us riding around the north shore in his green army jeep. I recall my mother always yelling at him to zip up the vinyl doors so we would not fall out! The best time spent with my father, however, was when he took us fishing. If he was not so forgetful now, I bet he would be at his favorite spot almost every day setting his traps for some crab or dropping his lines for oopu and tilapia.

This brings to mind a funny incident that occurred when I was in the 3rd grade returning from school one afternoon. I got home rather hungry and headed straight for the kitchen for a snack. My sister was napping in her crib and my mom was doing the wash in the bath house. My brothers were next door watching a show on our neighbors brand new TV set. That was a privilege and luxury in those days.

After telling my mom that I had arrived, I began heading over to our neighbors house to catch the afternoon showing of Checkers & Pogo. I suddenly noticed a white, nylon string tied around a stick imbedded in the dirt road in front of our house. I followed it with my eyes and as far as I could tell, it continued on down the dirt road.

I was curious. I had to find out what was at the end of the string. Back in those days, it was a very safe neighborhood. Children would play in the streets and their parents would not have to worry about anyone abducting them. Deciding that it would be an adventure to unravel this mystery, I began to follow the string. It led me along the dirt road for a 100-yards until it went around a bend. I peered around the hedge at the corner and noticed that it proceeded down to the sugar cane field. When I looked back, I could no longer see my house. I hesitated and contemplated on going further. My curiosity got the best of me and on I ventured.

The string went on and on for several minutes. I noticed the sun was beginning to set. Just as I thought about returning home, I could see a figure squatting in the middle of the road. The sun was behind him but its rays made it difficult for me to recognize who it was at first. I started towards him and as I got closer, I discovered it was my father!

I shouted and he looked up. I realized that he was carrying a spool and was wrapping the string I was following around it. As he stood up with a big smile on his face, he exclaimed, "Aye, how come you stay hea?" He held out his arms and I ran into them. I hugged him fiercely. I told him how I got there and he laughed. "I wuz jus tryin to take out the tangles!" he explained.

I walked beside him as he resumed wrapping the string around the spool. I had solved the mystery. My father was going to weave himself a fishing net and would soon be taking us on another fishing adventure that weekend. I
couldn't wait!

When we got home, I ran to tell my mother what had happened. After scolding me a little for not letting her know where I was going, she gave my dad a knowing smile, and gave me a kiss on the head. "Go get ready foa eat and tell your bruddahs to come home now," she ordered. We had tilapia, pinacbet and rice for dinner, but I couldnt eat. I was too excited. I fell asleep dreaming about sitting in my fathers fishing boat (and yes, he even made that) on the Kahiliwai River and the all the opu that I was going to catch!

Lina and husband Chris live in Oceanside, California with their three keiki, Aaron is now 9 years old, Samantha is 5 and their newest addition, Cade Palena is 8 months.  She's originally from Kilauea, Kauai (Kapaa High School '82). She majored in Communications/Public Relations at Chapman U in Orange,Ca. "I am  Marketing Support Administrator for Harte-Hanks Direct Marketing (we own the PennySaver)." She enjoys reading, writing, singing, cooking, and spending time with the family. She is collaborating with her son to write children's stories and hopes to soon publish their first book!!

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Written by Mokihana White

User Rating: 5 / 5

I was one lucky keiki. I grew up in beautiful Manoa Valley on O'ahu. This was before the days that real estate got so expensive there. I lived my first 4 years up Tantalus, then we moved to Manoa, valley of na anuenue... the rainbow.

I have many precious memories of being a golden child growing up in a golden place. Eh... it starts with never wearing shoes to school till junior high. Taking rice balls with ume for lunch. Having poi be one of my first foods. Ti-leaf sliding down the hill not too far from our house. Playing marbles in the dirt under the Medeiros' house, and baseball and football in season, all us keiki from the neighborhood.

I remembah we used to keep a list of all da out of state licenses we could see... took us a long time, and we nevah could get Rhode Island. Den one day all us kids was playing in the front yard, and dis car comes along with those plates, and we started screaming, "Rhode Island, Rhode Island!!!" ovah and ovah. I bet da tourists thought we was pupule for sure.

I remembah the sound of ukuleles and singing everywhere... the lei stands... and when someone was coming to visit us from da mainland or anoddah island we could go down to Mrs Faruya's and she'd welcome us picking orchids for leis. True aloha spirit.

Good old J. Akuhead Pupule... every Saturday morning on da radio, right?? What a funny guy. His daughter Leah was in my class at school. And every year we would have our class picnic at Hanauma Bay. We would walk all around the bay on both sides, and go swimming where there was no coral. Can't believe now we would gripe about having to go there each year... we wanted to go someplace different.

I now realize that I lived in Hawaii during a golden time... warm and nourishing to my heart. I remember going to Ala Moana park for picnics... remember that manini-kine "island" in the middle of the water, by the little bridge? Yeah, and being able to see Diamond Head from there.

Remember Town and Country Stables by chance? Now it's part of Kapiolani Park. I used to keep my horse there, and we'd go riding in the polo field. I used to hot-walk the polo ponies after the Sunday matches... they were all boarded at Town and Country too. Remember the polo field, the small one, where the matches were played? Every weekday morning the exercise guys would ride the ponies round and round the polo field... ride one pony, lead 2 more, for exercise. Now this is all a big field by the Shell... I remember one time we got so much rain that the polo field was flooded, and we would ride our horses through it and all these frogs would jump up as we passed by. We used to ride our horses down Monsarrat Ave to a small-kine saimin place and eat lunch. And we could ride them down to Diamond Head beach for a swim.

My friends and I would talk pidgin on the bus... and all the haole tourists thought we were crazy and would give us fish eye. Talked about us teenagers going around with bare feet and talkin' some strange kine language.

Stock car races at the stadium!! And all the high school football games. Kamehameha Schools song contests on the radio. Being on the bus and it's pouring rain, and I get off the bus and walk through the curtain of rain into sunshine. And the Christmas bus, all decorated. We couldn't wait for :it to come to our neighborhood for a day.

I remember the Bon dances, and the Chinese dragon at Chinese New Year. The :parades, and how I got to ride a borrowed horse in the Aloha Week parade one year. I remember how my dad would always squirt our roof with water on New Year's because he was afraid the fireworks would set it on fire.

I loved the sound of pidgin being spoken... we'd always talk pidgin outside school. To me it's a second language. Feeling so cheated because we weren't allowed to speak Hawaiian in school, and it certainly wasn't taught. English Standard schools. What a stupid idea. And now, when the keiki are blessed to have it taught from early grades, my friends and I :feel a sense of despair, that when we could learn it easily, it was denied to us.

Most of all, the sense of being a golden child in a golden place... freedom to play, to swim, to breathe the tropical air, to grow up with that special feeling of aloha in my heart that lasts to this very day.

Mokihana White now lives in Boring, Oregon, about "15 miles southeast (as the mynah bird flies from Portland)." She lives on a 12 acre farm with her DH and they have sheep, goats, and llamas. She belongs to the Hawaiian Club from Beaverton, Oregon. She works in a real estate appraisal office. She went to Manoa, Robert Louis Stevenson and University High School. Besides playing the guitar and ukulele she does beadwork, spins wool on her spinning wheel. She plays her Hawaiian CD's "non-stop"... remembering her special youth as one of Hawaii's Golden Children.

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Written by Kamaka Brown

User Rating: 5 / 5

When I was eight years old my mudder had my bruddah.  Hoo..at first was good cause I neva have to watch him and change his stinky diapers. But den da dreaded "Big Brother" syndrome wen strike.I suddenly became da built in babysitter. You gotta figah dat by da time he wuz 8 years old I was 16 with raging hormones and big eyeballs fo' da wahines... You gotta figah too, a fixed  accessory to da family station wagon when I had one date..was my baby brother in da back seat!!   My old man was smart like one mongoose..you can bet no hankypanky in da back seat wit my baby bruddah with big eyeballs watching.

"Ok son, you like use da car? Hea take da keys and no forget your bruddah going wit you..in fact he stay already in da car !!" Daddy said.

Da equvilent of safe sex for me was baby bruddah in da back seat.  And you know he gave one complete report to Daddy wen we got home. "and ...and...he neva stop at da stop sign..and ...and...he wen try burn rubbah in da parking lot by da school!!" That report got me grounded for 2 weekends. If neva have stiff penalty for twisting off da head of your baby bruddah...he would have one funny shape neck and indentations in his head today!!!

Da days went by quick like one swift..the time blending into soft colors of leaves changing on da mango tree... the Waimea river running by the house in one steady flow..childhood into manhood...our island town growing into a busy metropolis. Suddenly my job became a  "Career" and it took me away from my Island.

Baby Bruddah called me from his home in Honolulu this weekend.  His voice clear and warm. "Eh, Hawaiian," he said, "long time no smell, brah!! Just 'cuz you stay on da mainland you forget how to dial da phone or wot?? "  "Aloha, Brah," I said laughing, "It's great to hear your voice."  "Eh, no act," he said "don't make me call Daddy and tell him you wen put one ding in da station wagon again!!"  "Oh no, please don't do that, brah!" I said.  "Ok den," he laughed, "if you were going to give me any heat I was going tell him something else. You know he still doesn't know about the time you and da Haole girl was kissing at da movies." We both laughed until I had tears in my eyes...and I knew by his voice shaking just a little that he had some water in his eyes too. "Ok, just checking up on you, boy", he said to me sternly. "I still remember da time you wen ducktape my hair..I always have that one I neva tell too!!

We began another session of contagious laughter...

I celebrated my 50th birthday this year...It's been a long journey from the North Shore of  Oahu to Simi Valley, California...I've been through so many changes in my life...thankfully one thing has not changed ...

.......I still have my baby bruddah !!

Kamaka Brown was born and raised in Hawaii. Childhood years were spent in Waimea Valley on the North Shore of Oahu. Now a California resident he has not forgotten his Island roots. He writes and performs local style comedy at concerts and clubs around Southern California.

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Written by Kirby Wright

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Moloka'i's first ever East End Rodeo was held on the Fourth of July at a working ranch in Kamalo. The ranch was "working" in the sense that cattle and pigs were raised on it and slaughtered. Kualapuu Suprette sent a meat truck twice a month from the west end of the island. My grandmother wanted to go to the rodeo not so much to watch the paniolas ride and rope, but because she'd seen an ad in the "Molokai Action News" saying there'd be a Greased Pig Contest for children. My big brother Ben and I were visiting from Honolulu. We called our grandmother "Gramma," a term of endearment that had survived from small kid time.

"Ya boys are fast," Gramma told Ben and me.

"We're fast," my big brother Ben said. He had the blond hair and green eyes of our Irish mother. I took after our hapa haole father.

"Fast 'nough ta catch a greasy pig?" she asked. She told us about the contest and how it would make her proud if one of us would catch that pig.

"If Ben doesn't catch it," I said, "I will."

"That's what I like ta hea', Peanut," Gramma told me.

"Easier than picking pineapples," Ben said.

"Like taking candy from a baby," I added. "Good boys."

We drove west for Kamalo the day of the rodeo. I was full of anticipation and dread, the same way I'd felt before games in Little League back home in Honolulu. Ben didn't talk much on the drive. Neither did I. It was like Gramma was driving us to the doctor or the dentist. She was wearing her usual ranch clothes: blue jeans, palaka blouse, and a lauhala hat with a wide brim. She had white skin but her eyes slanted. Her mother had danced the hula on the court of Queen Emma and King Kamehameha IV. When we reached the outskirts of Kamalo, we drove beside the ocean. The beach was a mixture of sand and mud. The water was murky and locals waded out with suji nets. The island of Lanai was a brown hump on the horizon. We slowed when Ben spotted a cardboard sign taped to a bamboo stick. The sign advertised "East End Rodeo" in black crayon. There was a long driveway across from the beach. We took the driveway and drove between two rows of sturdy posts and glistening wire. The Seven Sisters, a mountain range to the north, rolled up to the sky. The mountains were joined by shallow gulches that looked like steps. Four of the Seven Sisters were part of the ranch. If you looked hard you could see cows grazing halfway up the nearest Sister. The peaks of all of the Sisters were shrouded in clouds.

"What a spread," said Gramma.

The posts in the fence lines were redwood, not cheap kiawe like ours. The wire was strung tight, not full of loops. Their horses were lean, not fat with barley bellies. We parked between some horse trailers and a barn. Paniolas on
horseback were whistling as they herded cows inside.

"Bet I know what goes on in there," Ben said, pointing to the barn.

"What?" I asked.

He dragged a finger over his throat. "Ya kids cut it out," Gramma said.

We walked over to the main gate. Families were filing in. Everyone was excited because nothing like this had ever happened on our end of the island. Gramma paid our dollar admissions. I could tell by the way she opened her purse and slowly counted out the bills that she considered this a necessary investment, but an investment that would reap great rewards. There were stands on one side of the corral and we found seats in the middle.

"How ya boys feel?" Gramma asked.

"Like a million bucks," Ben said.

"How 'bout li'l Peanut?"

"I'm fine."

"I'm countin' on ya boys ta bring home the bacon."

Before the rodeo began, a man wearing an Aloha shirt carried something from the barn into the corral. It was black and white and it looked like a little dog.

"I want that piglet," Gramma said.

"You want that?" Ben asked.

"It's so tiny," I said.

"We'll have a big luau," she promised.

We watched the man bend down and open a can of oil. A paniola held the pig while the man poured. It squealed and struggled so the paniola pinned it against the ground. "Rope 'em, cowboy!" somebody said from the stands and everyone laughed. When the can was empty the paniola let the pig go. It ran to the far corner of the corral and tried shaking off the oil the way a dog shakes off water.

The man in the Aloha shirt wiped his hands on his pants. Then he grabbed a microphone and welcomed us to the First Annual East End Rodeo, an event he said they'd have on Independence Day from now on. He introduced himself as Sam Foster and talked about the ranch being a smaller yet more efficient version of the Parker Ranch on The Big Island. Then he invited the children to come down for the Greased Pig Contest.

"Doesn't cost a thing," he said.

"Shoot yo' pickles!" Gramma told us.

Ben led the way down to the corral. All the parents around us were trying to coax their children into entering. "No be shy," I heard a father tell his daughter. "Be brave," said her mother. Ben and I waited outside the corral with the other children. Then a paniola told us all to duck under the wire. We gathered in front of the gates for the bucking broncos. Ben and I were about the oldest, except for the two Ciaccis. The Ciaccis were a brother team like us. They were Portuguese and about our ages. We'd see them every Sunday at Father Damien's Church because they were altar boys.  "Holy mahus," Ben had called them. Somehow, we never got to be friends. I think part of the problem was the Ciaccis knew we only visited Moloka'i in the summer, and they'd probably decided we were spoiled kids from Honolulu. When the Ciaccis saw us they started whispering plans.

"Huddle," Ben said. He turned his back to the Ciaccis and placed his hands on my shoulders. He said he'd trip both Ciaccis to give me a clear shot at the pig.

"Don't do it," I said.

"Why not?"

"We'll start fighting. Then another weeny'll catch the pig."

Ben considered the point for a moment. "Okay," he said. "Then let's spread out. We have a better chance if we spread out."

"How do you catch it?" I asked.

"Pretend it's a football."

He walked off and took a spot next to the fence. His head towered above the others, except for the older Ciacci boy. I could see Gramma in the stands talking to Mr. Ah Ping, the man who owned the only store on the east end. She pointed us out and Ah Ping stroked his jaw. She saw me looking and waved. I gave her a halfhearted wave back. One of the paniolas carried the pig over to the children. He crouched down in the middle of the mob with the pig. The little feet kicked but the paniola had both hands around its throat. Sam Foster patted a Hawaiian girl on the head and welcomed the children to the East End Rodeo. Parents came down for a closer look and shouted encouraging words. The more they shouted the more my stomach churned. None of the children smiled-instead, they scrunched their faces while parents fought for views along the fence. Ben hunched down and took a sprinter's stance. The older Ciacci copied. A few parents stood on the bottom strand of wire.

"We're just about ready," Sam Foster said over the microphone.

The paniola who'd helped oil the pig entered the corral with a revolver. He pointed it up at the sky and fired.

"Go!" Sam Foster said.

The pig charged toward the far side of the corral and the children started running. Ben sprinted along the fence line and took the lead, with the older Ciacci right behind him. The younger Ciacci ran in the middle of the pack next to me. I tried sprinting but my legs resisted. It felt like I was running in place. Ben caught up to the pig, jumped, and landed with his arms around the legs. The pig squealed and kicked away. The crowd roared. Then the older Ciacci had his chance but a Japanese boy ran into him and they both fell. The pig veered suddenly and ran along the fence line. The children cornered it but the pig turned around and got out of the corner. It ran back and the slower children tried grabbing it as it passed. Someone got the pig by the ear and it squealed as if it was being murdered. Finally the pig collapsed belly-up in the center of the corral and shot out a stream of pee. I ran over but the younger Ciacci was already picking it up. The pig kept peeing. Ciacci's shirt was drenched and his arms glistened.

"We have a winner!" Sam Foster said over the microphone and the pig was awarded to the Ciacci boy.

The paniola who'd fired the gun brought out a rag and wiped oil off the pig. The Ciacci boy peeled off his wet shirt. Everyone cheered when Sam Foster raised Ciacci's hand like he'd won a fight. The riding and roping that followed was fun, but I could tell Gramma was in a foul mood the way that she chain-smoked and criticized all the riders.

"Call themselves paniolas?" Gramma asked.

She never laughed once at the clowns. She refused to buy candy apples when the vendor walked through the stand.

"Not payin' fo' any o' that crap," she said.

Ah Ping was eating a bag of peanuts one row back.

"Ciacci boy not fast," Ah Ping decided, "but plenny akami." He tapped a finger against his temple.

"Fasta than these damn kids," Gramma said.

On the ride home Gramma doubled the speed limit. She was all over the road. She was acting as though she'd made a bet on a sure thing and the sure thing lost.

"Ya kids are slow as molasses," Gramma said when we got home. She shook her head and frowned. "Those Ciaccis put ya ta shame."

"Ben did good," I said.

"Call that good?"

"He had the pig, for a second."

"At least Mista Ben tried," she told me. "Ya did nothin' but watch."

"Who wants that poor little pig anyway," I said.

"I do, that's who."

"It was just for fun," said Ben.

"Fun, nothin'."

"You act like it's the end of the world," Ben said.

"Ya kids get your own dinna tonight."

"Huh?" I asked.

"Ya heard me, Peanut," Gramma said. "Eat coconuts."

The day after the rodeo, Gramma told her ranchhand Valdez to start  replacing fence posts. "Everythin's busticated," she decided. She ordered wire pullers from a hardware store so Valdez could pull the loops out of the fence line. She told us to stop feeding the horses barley. Then she received an invitation from the Ciaccis. I saw her read and re-read that invitation for days. Finally, she asked Ben and me if one of us would escort her to the luau.

"No way," Ben said.

"Not in a zillion years," I said.

"And why not?" she asked. "Half the damn island'll be thea."

"Because," Ben said.

"Because yo' poor losers," she said.

Gramma spent days deciding what to wear. She took her suitcases out of the closet and tried on her "Honolulu clothes." She made a special trip to Moloka'i Drugs to buy a facial cream. She even had the mahu from the beauty shop in town drop by to style her wig.

"Sure ya don't wanna go?" Gramma asked us when the big day came.

"Should be a big crowd." She wore red lipstick, Oil of Olay on her cheeks, and a salt-and-pepper wig. She looked like someone else.

"How does yo' Gramma look?" she asked.

"Like one of the Beatles," I said.

"Like who!"

Ben laughed. "Feed your face," he told her.

"Ya puhi'us can fend fo' yo' bloody selves," Gramma said.

She climbed into the Scout and slammed the door. Then she pulled out of the garage and sped away. We ran down the driveway and watched her turn left on the public road. I was relieved when I heard her engine fade away.

"Thank God she's gone," Ben said.

"Now what do we do?"

"I found this secret spot for papio," he said. "Guaranteed."

We walked past the point with our poles. I couldn't understand how Gramma would want to go to the luau after seeing the main course being chased down in the corral. I was glad our place wasn't a "working ranch."

I started reeling in the line when my lure hit the water between two coral heads. I hoped Ben was right and that we wouldn't have to eat coconuts again for dinner. I could see my lure cutting through the water and I wondered how the luau meat would taste to the Ciacci boy, the one who'd caught and held the pig.

Kirby "Peanut" Wright originally lived in Honolulu and graduated from Punahou ('73). He now lives in Palo Alto, California. His first novel, a rite of passage adventure set on the island of Moloka'i, is making the rounds in New York. Kirby maintains a website which contains poetry and short stories he has written.

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Written by Scott Haililani Mahoney

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The 1950's and 60's sure was a fun time to be growing up in Hawaii. It was a time when music had real tunes and real words! It was a time when gang violence meant two "bulls" from different areas of Kalihi punching it out in some park bathroom and shaking hands after it was all over. I lived at 1935-A Kealakai Street which was in a district of Kalihi known as upper Lanakila or lower Alewa, depending on who you were trying to impress.

It's hard to go by the old neighborhood these days because all the trees have been cut down and all the yards have been covered with cement or small rentals. Even the streets seem smaller because instead of one family per house, you might have two or three. And instead of one car per family, you now might have five or six cars parked all over the place.

Even most of the neighborhood grocery stores are gone. There use to be one on almost every other block. Their businesses were built on trust and  loyalty. These were the kinds of stores that you could charge your groceries and the old Chinese man would write the bill on a piece of butcher paper,   let you sign it and stick it on a long sharp nail. At the end of the month   he'd hand you all your bills and you would pay him.

I still remember signing for a loaf of bread that cost 20 cents or a 5 lb.     bag of poi that sold for a dollar. And I'm talking real genuine Hawaiian     thick kind poi, not the strained watered down kind they sell now. The kind  of poi that if I saw it sitting on the table and still in the bag, I would run as  fast as I could before my Tutu made me lomi or mix it. In those days when they said "lomi lomi the poi", they meant a full body massage. Boy did my arms ache!

There are a lot of things that made living in Hawaii in the old days  special. Things that are gone and will never return. Things like the "Honey Wagon" that came by once a month to pump out your cesspool. There was also a "Mosquito Truck" who would drive through the neighborhoods, spraying     thick clouds of DDT poison to control the mosquitoes and bugs.

Twice a week the "Grocery Truck" would come by for the people too old to walk down to the store. They always had fresh vegetables and fruits. I     always look back to those memories with regret because when the hard     working old man would be selling things on one side of his truck we would  be "borrowing other things" on the other side.

Every house, in every Kalihi neighborhood, had a five gallon can hanging from a nail on a tree. This is where we all put our left overs and food scraps and once or twice a week the "Slop Man" would come by to pick it up.

Our slop man was my friend Poi's dad. Poi and his sister, Honey Girl, would wake up every morning before school, at 5 o'clock, to help their father collect the slop for their pigs. They  sure were a hard working family. Of all the special little people and things that I always remembered, the      "Manapua Man" was my favorite.

Every week an old Chinese man would come through our neighborhood selling manapua. He had two ten gallon tin cans filled with all kinds of different Chinese manapua. He would balance the two cans by tying them to the ends of a wooden stick that he carried over his shoulder. All up and down the streets you could hear him crying out "Manapua, Pepeau! Manapua Man!" Manapuas would cost like 25 cents for two and these were the real big kind that would really fill you up. It always amazed me how that old man could carry so much on his back and also how he got the manapua to us so piping hot.   In those days every penny counted and working hard for a living was always honorable.

Other guys who came around our neighborhood was the "Ice Man" who would deliver big blocks of ice with a great big hook. My dad would whittle it down to fit in our 'Icebox' to help keep the food cold. Then there was the   "Milk Man", Mr. Medeiros. He would carry crates of bottled milk from his   truck. We all liked taking the cream off the top as you first opened it and also being able to keep the milk cover to play with after.  We all especially loved the chocolate milk. When he came around, all the neighborhood kids would gather at his truck to help him deliver the bottles  to all the nearby houses. After we were finished he would give us two or three ice cold bottles of milk to drink or tubes of brand new milk covers  to play with. Mr. Medeiros wasn't only nice but he was smart. It seems that   when Mr. Medeiros first started, all the kids,  use to raid his truck of milk while he was walking around.  It didn't take him long to realize that by putting the kids to work, it stopped them from stealing and also made his job a whole lot easier.

Besides all these beautiful people that visited our neighborhoods there are  other things that have seemed to be gone. A lot of the games that we played  have been replaced by videos and computers. All these games had sort of  seasons where if it was 'milk cover' season than that was all we would      play. It wasn't like a certain month was a certain game either. It was all     by feel. Sometimes kids would bring out their marbles during baseball card  season and no one would play with them. Majority always ruled as to what  season it was going to be.

One of the games we enjoyed was "Tops" which had many variations of playing it . Besides seeing which top would still be spinning we had other games where you would lay your top down on the ground and everyone in the game would take turns "dozing" or hitting your top with the tips. A lot of guys would replace the regular tips with big long nails and could actually split your top in half. We also had games that we would see who could 'doze' the biggest chunk out of the asphalt.

Milk covers was also a favorite. You would stack the 'bets' of covers face  up and we would take turns trying to  knock them over with our 'kini'. Some  kids would tape a penny between two milk covers to make their kini.

"Agates" or marbles was also a great past time. There were also variations to the game but the basic was putting all the 'bets' in a smaller circle in     the  middle of a bigger circle and taking turns trying to hit as many as you  could out of the larger circle. Sometimes they would allow 'bombing' where  you could drop a big 'bumboocha' marble on the center pile and see if any  would go flying out. My dad use to work at Pearl Harbor where he brought us home these large shiny ball bearings. We would never show the ball bearings until it was agreed that 'bombing' was allowed and then Kaboom".  It was also cool if you had a partner or "kumpa" as we use to call it. If your "kumpa" was a good shooter than you would be responsible for holding all the 'bets'. Sometimes the side bets would be two or three hundred marbles. My favorite kumpa was this Japanese kid named Keoki. He could shoot marbles. We had so many marbles that we use to bury hundreds of them at a time and draw up these treasure maps. I can't ever remember digging them up so I know there are a lot of marbles buried in Kalihi.

Flipping baseball cards was another of the great games. You would make side bets and while flipping them in the air you would yell out "Match no match!" If you said "Match" and the two cards landed same side up you would win. Sometimes when the winning was so big the winner would yell out "Rough Take" and throw a ton of the cards in the air for anyone to pick up and keep.

We also liked playing two hand touch football where we taped a ball of     paper up for the football. We also played "Hawaiian Style" where you could  throw as many forward passes as you liked and you could have as many guys on your team as you wanted to as long as both teams had the same amount. It was fun.

Anyway it was great just thinking about our "Small Kid Times" and of all the beautiful people that touched our lives and of all the fun games we played in those good old days.  Go back to your old neighborhoods and say hi to all the people that are still there. Your memories are like sandcastles and sooner or later time will wash them away.

Scott Haililani Mahoney is a Kamehemeha School and University of Colorado graduate. Originally from Lanakila in Kalihi on Oahu, Scott writes small kid time stories for his father, who is also a writer. Scott now lives on Maui.

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Written by Skippy Duponte

User Rating: 5 / 5

My story is about my fada and all my bruddas going to a football game at the old stadium. I can rememba i had jus got back from da service and us guys went decide we going watch the Kam vs Kaimuki High game.

We stay driving down King Street just past Waialae Ave when my fada been get stop by da red light.  You have to imagine what my fada look like... dis guy is about 5ft 8in tall and weigh about 250 pds in dem days. My mada was no small wahine either... she arm wrestle you and broke your arm.

Anyway my fada was driving his old chevrolet and like i been say stop at da light when these budda heads went come up along side him.  My fada used to like chew on dem big cigas and be spitting all the time... anyway he no look at who maybe near him so when he went go spit the kaka went go land on the budda heads arm in da ka next to him.

Wellllll... da budda head and his friends went get out of dea ka and was going hemmo my fada from his.. but befoa dey could do dat us keeds went jump out of our ka's since we was right behing our fada ... Three ka loads of us... my brudda's and I all kick in at about 275 -350 and no show too much fat back that time.. get   six of us and about same amount ohana friends... let me tell you when the budda heads went look up at my brudda dicky and went see all of us standing behind him telling dem to get dea hands of my fada the budda heads eyeball like fall out. I believe he went suck his olo olo up his okole and make it.

I neva foget dat day. My fada just went shift da ka in gear and make believe nuttin went happen. When we all finally went reach Chunkys Drive Inn and went park the ka's we went make it to the stadium. All us brahs went surround my fada and mada like dey was the king and queen. No mess wit oua ohana !!

The one thing all of us could count on was the football games every friday and saturday. Wen came time for us go to da turkey games.. man dis was da big event!!!!!!   Because me and some of my bruddas and planny ohana use to play ball. My favorite team to play against was punahou... I don't know why but these buggas was good !! Da right tackle franky I forget his name... I think it was Silva. He was too good. He would bust the lie and kick my okole everytime. If got pass this bugga i had it made... dis neva happen too often.

Wen I  was not playing and only watching i used to love the boiled peanuts. My fada used to make me go buy dem all da time.

So anyways..get one moral to dis story: And dat  is neva take fo'granted short fat hawaiian just because he olda dan u... you neva know who may be behind him. And eh by da way... i get planny budda head and pake friends so no take personal...

Postscript

Eh, deah stay one "Paul Harvey" side to dis story dat i wen foaget till i waz talkin to my bruddah earlier tonite. I wen fax him da story and wen he wen go get da buggah he wen azk me why i no wen tell uus guys bout da drivah of da ka leavin da ottah guys deah wit us bruddahs (to tell da kine truth i nevvah wen tink bout it till he wen remind me).

Anyhowz, us wen feel real sorry foah deez guys cuz we know dey nomoa ride to da football game and stay majjah scaid li'dat, so we wen go give deez guys one lift.  Dey waz sittin in da ka so scaid kine like we waz goin take dem to da sugar cane fields and kill dem owa somting.

Anyhowz, we wen all turn out to be good kine friends lattah on and deez guys even uus to call my faddah pop's.  To dis day us (Kenneth Hasegawa and Roy Arakaki) still da best of friends and deah keikes call me unco.

I nevvah knew wat wen evah happen between Kenneth, Roy and da ottah guys dat waz in da ka dat wen leev dem wit us.

Now u know "da rest of da story"

Chris "Skippy" Duponte was born on Oahu in Punaluu and raised in Palolo Valley. He went to Palolo Elementary, Jarrett Intermediate, Kaimuki and Kalani High Schools. His extended family of surnames Pinto, Souza, and Kapuniai all sprang from the late Helen Louise DuPonte, Skippy's mom.He joined the Navy in 1966 and ended up in Antarctica. He returned to Hawaii in 1969.  In 1976 moved to Georgia. Skippy works for the Department of Defense in a civil service logistician ("eh.. make you scared.. like I get big brain or something").   He manages the Tanks for the Marine Corp. Skippy has been with the government for 24 years now. ("I have more diplomas and certificates than you can shake a stick at.. but this doesn't means you are smart.. it's just wall paper until you have common sense.") I am ready to retire and "live the life of Riley". He and his wife, Beverly, have four children Hanalei, Chris Jr., Ryan and Nicole.

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