“Grown here, not flown here.” Integration in Hawaii: is there such a thing?
The mystery that is the social strata of life in Hawaii is something I’m exploring in my Lei books, something that’s so complex, multilayered, multiethnic, and fraught with territoriality it’s a little scary. And if you’ve been kicked around the schoolyard many days growing up, being called “haole crap” or for variety, “f-ing haole” like I have, you’re conditioned to silence about it.
If you don’t live here, you can’t possibly know much about it, and you’ll probably never have a clue on your Mai-Tai powered vacation. Even if you do decide to move here to that retirement condo you’ve always dreamed of, you’ll probably never penetrate it.
And quite frankly, we don’t want you to. “Welcome to Hawaii,” says a bumper sticker. “Now go home.”
These slightly morbid and hostile reflections were sparked by a thoughtful article in Smithsonian by world-famous travel writer Paul Theroux in his article A Man and His Islands, a title that makes my kama’aina hackles rise—the guy’s a transplant, only been here 22 years! And I have to laugh a little at myself, and the situation, and know the truth of it. The title is a good one, as he wrestles with his love of the islands, the complexity of writing about Hawaii, and explores its unique impenetrableness.
Hawaii is a place that accepts some and spits out most.
My family has been in Hawaii four generations (if you count my kids, graduated from public schools here and proud of it) but because I’m haole, I have to establish I’m GROWN HERE NOT FLOWN HERE within minutes of meeting any local person.
How do you establish this? And why might Hawaiians talk to me and not to Paul Theroux, world-famous travel writer?
It’s in the posture, slightly to the side and deferential (see, I know my place as a ‘trained haole’) in the inflection of the voice, a hint of pidgin as if you could go full-on any moment but choose not to. It’s in the glancing eye contact, in the slight raise of the chin that passes for acknowledgement and speaks volumes. It’s in the name drop of who your people in common are. It’s in the proper pronunciation of place names and Hawaiian words.
Because, though I’m haole I’m FROM HERE. I know it, I own it, I’m proud of it. Not only that, I’m from Kaua`i, the most rugged, remote, insular island of the whole chain, famous for it’s “hard-head” isolationist people who blockade the Superferry and demonstrate to keep the one-lane Hanalei bridge.
And what I've found is this: you can enter another person's world when you have the right attitude. It seems to me Mr. Theroux thought his credentials would pave the way for local people to open their doors and dish up their hard-kept secrets. Hawaii is a place that is singularly uninterested in credentials. In Hawaii, it's all about the relationship. If you take time, show respect and sincere interest, humble yourself and are open to the wisdom of others, bridges are built. I work at one of the few Hawaiian Immersion schools on Maui. I can tell you that yes, the Hawaiian teachers are slow to warm up. They are all activists in the cultural preservation movement and they ARE skeptical of outsiders.
It took two years of working there before I felt really a part of the school and the team, before I'd proved my worth and sincerity. (Paul, how much of that 22 years you've spent in your second home in Oahu have you spent helping and proving your worth?) Now they freely come and consult with me on their students, even have me stand in to sub (“Ok kids, you know Miss Toby she no speak Hawaiian. We taking one little break” and all the kids break into grins and go, “Yay!”) and I'm invited to baby showers and hulas. No, we aren't bosom buddies and we don't socialize outside of work. . . But we could, if any of us had the time!
I’ve worked in public schools with some of Maui’s most at-risk children, from all races and walks of life, for the last eleven years. I like to think there’s no parent I couldn’t forge a bond with in the interest of their kids–as long as we took the time to understand each other.
But one day not long ago, I ran into a classic Hawaii situation I could not bridge. It set me on my ass, it reminded me of the complexity and darkness that’s a part of life here, and the impenetrability of some of the people.
I went for a walk on Baldwin Beach in the early morning with my two dogs, one a Chihuahua terrier, the other a shih-tzu, neither of them over 12 pounds. We’ve been attacked by pit bulls (another lesser-known fact of island life) several times. Usually the owners are young men, drinking and partying. I no longer go out in places where I think we could be attacked. Early Saturday morning seemed safe.
We have boatloads of these dogs on Maui. I…think…that's a friendly smile. Maybe…
Up ahead of me on the empty, pristine beach was a large Hawaiian man with a huge brindled boxer. He was working the dog, throwing a toy for it. It lumbered like a war pony up and down the beach. Its ears and tail were menacingly docked.
I stopped. I reined in my dogs, pulling them up short on their leashes. My heart was pounding with PTSD-induced jitters from the last pit bull attack, which engendered injuries all around. My dogs would look like kibble on a rope to a monster like his! I waited for the guy to hold his dog so I could pass—dog owner protocol on a public beach with a nearby sign that said, “Dogs Must Be Leashed.”
I waited. And waited. He saw me. He ignored me. I was faced with the choice to proceed, and feed my kibbles to his dog hoping it was friendly, or turn around and go back (shame and defeat in my posture.)
Standing there I realized I was being perceived as Not From Here by him, and someone of no consequence. I was wearing the wrong clothes- a pair of cropped pants and a lime-green tank top that screamed Lands End not Local Kine, with my stupid foo-foo dogs and my strawberry-blonde hair in a ponytail.
So I called, properly deferential and with the right inflection. “Eh, mind holding your dog?”
“What? You get one problem? I been bringing my dog this beach for five years!” Full pidgin AND aggression at 7:00 a.m.! Obviously I’d hit a sore spot with this dude. But he’d hit one for me too.
“I’m sorry, I’ve been attacked,” I said, my heart thundering and voice rising. This is my beach too, and he’s standing under a sign that says Dogs Must Be Leashed.
“Come! You come and you walk by my dog. What you think goin happen.” His rough dare, his angry glare, brought out the brave in me.
“I just asked you to hold your dog. I told you I was attacked,” I said, walking forward.
“You haoles! You come over here, you buy one condo and you think you’re from here! You wreck the beach, you take everything. You come here, you think you can tell us what fo’ do!”
He went into a diatribe I can’t remember in the blur of terror. All I remember was breaking into a jog and hauling my hapless pooches past him, a jog that broke into a run fueled by all the pit bulls and schoolyard bullies of my early years. Safely far away, I slowed down and burst into tears, stumbling through the picturesque sand beside the turquoise sea.
Yes, it’s beautiful here even in human ugliness.
I’m from here, and I’ll always be judged by the color of my skin here. Nope, not brown enough. And sorry, Paul Theroux, neither are you.
But guess what? There are many shades of brown here that will also hardly speak to each other.
Paul Theroux got all arcane in the article. He tried to explain the lack of sharing, connecting and talking about the culture that he’d experienced here, unique even traveling the entire world over. He used a variety of illustrations—the delicacy of the helpless island flora, easily taken over by invasive species; the geography and the many culture groups.
“It wasn’t just native Hawaiians who denied me access to rebuffed me. I began to see that the whole of Hawaii is secretive and separated, socially, spacially, ethnically, philosophically, academically,” Paul said. (pp100, Smithsonian May 2012)
That’s the truest line in the whole article.
And I think the reason is pretty simple when you boil it all down: we have a good thing going here, and we don’t want any more people to come and get in on it. So if you move here, don’t expect a welcome mat—plan to create a social life with other transplants. Kama`ainas don't warm up for at least ten years. I'm trying to break that personally–but even I have a two-years-minimum-own-your-home rule for socializing with new people. Too many come over and end up leaving.
Oh, and carry pepper spray—there are loose pit bulls around every corner.
Shiver. I got bit by a pit bull. And he was coming in for more when the owner came out. As for your experience, it must have hurt as well as been a frightening time. It’s hard being lumped into one category without the other really knowing your story. That you belong.
My time in Hawaii was only for a few years, but the friends we made kept me wanting to come back for a long time. I always find it odd that people travel to places and seek out the spots that look just like the one from where they came and never want to experience the real place. Maui has changed so much from when I first went there in the early 1970s. It lost its ruralness and I know it’s because people come wanting to know the place, but really never venture out from what they know.
You never forget being bit by a dog–or a mean human! We can’t live life in fear, though. There are pit bulls of all kinds, everywhere!
Wow. I’m curious to hear what people think of this as well.
As someone from Santa Cruz, I can totally relate. We have people coming over from the Bay Area that drive like assholes and trash our beaches, then head home and leave the mess for us locals to deal with.
We have a bumper sticker here that says: “Santa Cruz – Beware of the Locals” with a picture of a shark. Only the local people here get the dual meaning. 🙂
I know a bunch of people who moved here from Hawaii and we never have to worry about them, because for the most part they know how to be courteous and respectful to the people and the ‘aina.
I’ve always wondered if that’s why I’ve never had too much trouble in Hawaii, because I share the same respect.
Thanks so much Kevin, for caring enough to repost your comment where others can glean from it. You’re a huge asset to Hawaii, and I’m enjoying getting to know you!
Aloha and mahalo!
Well written Toby. Knowing these small and large facts about Hawaii make Blood Orchids such a good read. It goes beyond a run of the mill murder mystery. Your knowledge of the islands and their quirks and passions show through in your book. Keep incorporating those facts into the Lei series and they will all be best sellers and don’t let anyone make you feel as if you don’t belong. You paid your dues to be part of Hawaii.
Thank you, Marianne! It’s been great becoming friends with you through writing!
Same here Toby. Writing has brought me many blessings and some are new friends 🙂
Utterly chilling. We’ve all got used to racial tensions and on such a tiny piece of land we should expect them, no matter how lovely the environment. But what you’ve described goes beyond that. All I can say is, I wouldn’t have had the guts to walk past the man, let alone the dog. An eye-opening piece of writing.
I mean to show the complex truth of life here, with all its shades of gray.
I found this article interesting on many levels. Not being a blond but a transplant I’ve found that I never faced prejudice from Hawaiians. I am Spanish but look local. I dress Haole and my English is a dead give away.
I did face prejudice though from Portuguese and Japanese. 🙂 In fact I married a Hawaiian-Chinese, Portuguese man. His family which was his mom who was Portuguese wanted to have a fit
When working I got the cold shoulder from the Japanese who felt themselves superior to my intellect and to outspoken for their liking.
But by and large I was accepted. And that is more then I can say about where I lived in San Francisco. This was the 50’s and 60’s. There the blond population saw fit to call me names, ban me from scout troops and not allow their children to play with me.
So when I came to these island and people started talking to me as though they liked me I was in 7th heaven. I was always cognizant that I was a haole. I respected the people and tried my best to learn about them. I never tried to speak pidgin or pretend I was one of them. Respect carried me through.
But unlike you my hair was brown and my eyes were too. So who knows had I been a blond? Well I might have moved right back to San Francisco.
A little aside. Now that my hair is gray locals have paused to try and figure out who or what I am. But, still, life is good.
Great article, I enjoyed it.
Great share, Karen, and what an interesting life you’ve had! I’ve often wished to just be a little browner with dark hair.. might have been easier.
I just needed to add a few more things. Having been here for 47 years I’ve seen a myriad of changes. I get very upset when talking to my local friends from the outer islands who can’t afford their land anymore because of people from the States buying up property for speculation, building multi million dollar homes making the taxes go sky high. Land has not changed because the locals have wanted modernization, big business and rich investors have done it. unfortunately when a local looks at you without having talked to you, that is what they see. I’ve encountered it and made it a point to talk as much as I can to them.
I wrote about an experience I had out at the birthing stones. This is the post if you want to take a look. http://wp.me/p1ai0c-6u
Such great points about the land! So wrong and so true!
Wow Toby, I’m sorry you had to go through that. That guy might’ve been Hawaiian, but he sure wasn’t acting like it. I like to think true Hawaiians are more magnanimous than that. It’s unfortunate that we judge people based upon the signals we perceive, and while you were trying to signal that you weren’t just another tourist, he obviously didn’t catch on. I agree with Tania, that some people are just mean. I know plenty Hawaiians that are rude to other Hawaiians because they don’t know them. I just experienced that at First Friday from fellow vendors who were also Hawaiian. Shouldn’t we be cheering each other on? Sad.
Anyway, I think I have a pretty unusual background as far as Hawaiians go. I’m a third generation college graduate, and the only Hawaiian in my Hilo High class to attend AP and Honors classes. My classmates were either haole or Japanese, and we all got along great.
In college I studied anthropology, and I am fascinated by the dynamics here in Hawaii. I have also been studying Hawaiian language for several years now.
My background has allowed me appreciate my culture, while not placing responsibility for my lot in life on haoles (or anybody else). I know that what I was taught and the choices I’ve made in my life led me to where I am today.
I truly believe that education is the key to escaping the affects of colonization.
THAT being said, it could be argued that our “Aloha” is what allowed Westerners to swoop in and take over in the first place, selling our souls in essence, for weapons, metal, and money, allowing foreigners with their own agendas to hold power and influence, adopting modernization as the new standard for progress in a land that was previously held by very wise stewards.
Fee simple land ownership dealt a death blow to Hawaiians, who buried their piko in the land, whose spirits still walked among them. Hawaii is MUCH more than just a pretty place to a Hawaiian. It is our family, our blood. LITERALLY. So the idea that someone can pay a price, get a piece of paper and say “This land is now my property. You can’t come here anymore,” was such a foreign concept to Hawaiians and obviously still a source of anguish today. One could argue that we have Hawaiian homes, but that program was initiated with the intent to return Hawaiians to prime farm land. Unfortunately, prime farm land was also prime sugar land, so Hawaiians did not end up on land they could farm. They ended up in places like Waianae.
I think Hawaiians have a right to be angry. We are in our own home and we have virtually no control over what happens to it. We can’t afford to buy land and our blood is being diluted so we can forget about meeting the blood quantum for Hawaiian Homes in a generation or two. But we need to use that anger constructively, not yell at people walking their dogs. We need to channel that anger and learn our language, and history and culture, and then go and get law degrees and fight for our land back intelligently. THAT’S what we need to do. Unfortunately, most Hawaiians today can’t even distinguish between local culture and Hawaiian culture, and have no clue about Hawaiian history (my in-laws are prime examples). We as Hawaiians need to do more to educate ourselves on the difference. My brother in law thought “kanaka” meant “lazy,” but it really means “person.”
Perhaps if we had maintained control (true control, not a puppet on the throne) over our land and government, things would still look much the same, but our attitude would be different. Maybe we wouldn’t’ve lost our language. Maybe our education wouldn’t’ve gone down (Hawaii once had the highest literacy rate in the world because the aliʻi wanted everyone to be able to read and write.) We would be able to show our aloha because it was a choice and we genuinely wanted to share our land and culture with others, instead of feeling invaded and forced to put on a smile about it all.
Personally, I have no problem with people from other places coming here, as long as they are respectful. A friend of mine said “haole is an attitude, NOT skin color.” As my grandpa (high school graduate, construction worker all his life) said, “You get good Hawaiians, bad Hawaiians, good Haoles, bad Haoles, good Samoans, bad Samoans, good Filipinos, bad Filipinos. It no matta wat race you are.
I love what your Grandpa said. That’s the truth. All the rest…its complex. I’m honored for you to share your perspective, and I agree Hawaiians have a right to be angry.
We have to sit down and talk someday–first Viktor Frankl, now this!
Fascinating subject. I went through Mr. Theroux’s article twice, like with an uku comb… looking for the tidbits! I find Toby’s rejoinder to be more honest, and revealing than his article. And therein lies a huge key to ‘belonging’ here in this precious state. You have to open up, share your BEING, before you can expect any local to do the same. Why should they? Why should anybody? And should you be unable, as Mr. T. was even in his article, than have great wit and humor about your failings and shortcomings, and yes, even your own race, anything for a laugh, at YOUR own expense will act as a passport. I have not met a local who does not like to throw back his head and share a mouth gaping laugh.
Toby’s guy with the brindle dog on the beach? I had walked by the same man and dog with my little fluffy ‘granny dog’, on the same morning….and out loud, admired his beautiful powerful dog to him, and he graciously thanked me. I am not saying, “I’m good at this”, or any other self congratulation. I am saying that we each have the experience we create, from moment to moment. And that is how it is for the local folks also.
I met a woman who grew up here on Maui, and her secret desire was to write a book she wanted to call, “Growing Up Haole”… we talked story, and totally enjoyed sharing our experiences. In a way, I see the start to her book here… in this conversation, with everyone’s heart felt share.
So let me tell my personal history with Hawaii Nei. I came to the Islands from Arcata, CA, on a prop Pan Am plane in 1952, age 8. My father had just been hired by the Marine research arm of the University of Hawaii. Called Pacific Ocean Fisheries Investigation, or POFI, it was his passion through my childhood. I was put in the public school closest to my home, within walking distance that had integrated whites only the previous year. I had no idea of this, and would not have understood the words anyway. My only instruction from my parents was, “I could go to school barefoot.”… So, my brother and I trotted off. I am not sure I even noticed at first that kids were all other races, and that I was the only white in my class. I did have terrific behavior problems that year, and spent alot of time in the leg space under my teacher’s desk, wiggling my fingers at the class, to their giggling. Fourth grade. It could only get better from here, and it did. My parents moved every year to a different Honolulu suburb, trying to decide where to ‘buy’… I always had friends, and they were always different races, and I can remember being shocked when my parents told us about the Jewish persecution before WWll, where my father had fought. Shocked, because they were ‘haoles’ also, and I did not understand why Haoles would hate haoles…. I never did get it. At that time, the majority race was Japanese, followed by Hawaiian mix. Haoles were third. And we knew our place, accepted it, and thrived in it. I attended Kaimuki High School, and there were 3 Haoles in the whole 11th grade! My Dad transfered to Scripps, and we rode the Lurline back to California. That was 1959, a few months before Hawaii joyfully and, blissfully ignorant was accepted by Washington as the 50th State. If you asked me, I would have said that, “I paid my dues” by being a minority race with alot of the pecking order, if not down right prejudice that goes with that.
Round #2 for me was a return to Oahu Hawaii, with a Surfer husband, and a two year old red head named Toby. We got a beach house at Rocky Point, for $35 a month (I know!), it was 1966… Toby’s dad was attending UH, taking surf photos, and surfing his brains out on the North Shore. We had some pure Hawaiian ladies living next door. They were lovely. They were horrified when Tex got out his 30-od-6 and shot down coconuts for us to eat. Then they asked him to shoot some down for them. And so it went. Our fireman neighbor taught him how to ‘throw net’, and he became good at that. He heard about surfers getting beat up on the NS, kept his head down, and never drank in the local bars. My dad was back at UH. I felt like I had ‘come home’… only times were a changing… Oh, the joyful times at the Haleiwa Theater, watching Yellow Submarine, going home, taking some more drugs, going back for the next show… sorry, I digress. I did have my second daughter, Bonny, at the tiny Kahuku Hospital, a wonderful local type experience, full of humanity, with my husband climbing in the window to visit after hours.
The Hawaiian Renasance was starting up, beautiful beautiful music coming from the masters, beautiful concerts for one and all, all Hawaiian, the ancient Hula being revived, the beautiful Hawaiian language was being spoken again…it was a beautiful open awesome time to witness. Full of Aloha for one and all. We rode the wave ‘back to the land’ by moving to Kauai in 1970, living in our van, Tex trompled all over the fishing grounds of the Locals at Hanalei, with his throw net. They must have been horrified, but were too gracious to say anything, until, finally, one of the oldest family members took Tex aside, and explained that every area in Hanalei belonged to a different family, and he was taking their fish. We were that kind of Haole. Then, another guy taught him slack key. I had my third daughter on Kauai. We were hired by relatives of the guy who wrote The Descendants to be their caretakers, on their gorgeous Estate, in Hanalei. We called ourselves the “latest wave of laborers, the hippies” living in the modest plantation ‘shack’ that had been vacated by the previous waves, the Japanese, and Philipinos. That was an amazing time for us. We got a pony and chickens, and a goat, ducks, we just got into that life style… We still knew we were haole, and were going to be offending someone sometime. It was just inevitable. But we loved everyone, and were honest about ourselves, and somehow, it worked. We were there for 35 years, with one off, to get clean and sober, in California.
So, by the time I moved to Maui, in 2005, I was really sure I had ‘paid my dues’, and that while I knew it would not be a piece of cake adjustment, at least, the haole part would be settled. Was I wrong about that! I can see the folks who came here in 1970, how integrated they are, and I understand, it will not be like that for me. It is a different time. A different time in place, in space, the island has a different personality, the locals had different adjustments they had to make as Maui’s growth exploded in the 80’s. They see me as ‘one more haole’, while I see myself as an old time resident who loves the islands, and came here to be close to my grandchildren. My sister married into the Burns family, that makes me a ‘Burns’ in the way it is here. None of that matters to Maui. I am finding myself dealing with my handicap of being a haole like never before. Sometimes, I think, “man, if this is how it is for Blacks, I sure do know how they feel”… And yet, I am oddly ok with it, figuring we the whites have certainly earned this, and I have had all the priveleges that go with my upbringing, my race, my ancestry, and my parents choice to raise us in Hawaii.
And I feel so sorrowful about the awful statistics: Hawaiians fill our prisons, their suicide rate is the highest among our teens. This incredible powerful beautiful race of people is fighting for their right to continue to exist, against the American Military, Industrial, commercial, toxic effects of greed and Capitalism, that flooded the Islands after statehood. Their greatest weapon is not racism, or haole hating, but Aloha, Paul got that right. A love so all embracing, powerful, overwhelming, and total, that nothing, nothing can stand against it.
Hawaii’s gift to the world, to each of us who get to live here, to our children, and to theirs. No other culture in this planet has the word Aloha. Or the concept. Or it’s real application, and meaning.
By living in Hawaii, I have been loved into accepting everything about myself. Yes, I have been mocked, yes I have been teased, yes I have felt rejected, and humbled, if not humiliated. I honestly have to say, that there is a good chance I deserved all the above. And if I didn’t, like Toby on the beach with that man, than we were absorbing a bit of someone else’s pain, anger, hurt. Absorbing their great loss, at the expense of our swarming race. It’s a small price, in my book.
Hi Mom.
Gorgeous essay. You passed on the writing gift! Thank you! And you were there that day, and we talked aobut it when I came up all upset, becuase I was so traumatized by that man’s rage… and you said, “He was nice to me!” I just didn’t understand it then, and I don’t now… but maybe I think my fear of his dog offended him. It implied I didn’t think he was competent or something, when he was there training the dog. I wish I would have just taken my fear, sucked it down, and walked forward. But I’d been bit before. Literally.
It’s hard to trust when you’ve been bitten.
I think that’s true for all the races here. Thank you for sharing these beautiful stories, I learn something new every time!
XOXOX
Your mom hit the nail on the head. I try to always come up with something positive to say and it opens doors. Loved her post. This is something I’ve learned when giving tours to kids at the museum. I try to look for something positive to say to a child that seems rebellious and they seem to take to that.
But the memory of a horrible incident can always take over and I think more then anything you have to get back on the horse as far as pit bulls are concerned. I doubt very much it was the Hawaiian that concerned you.
I’m that way with German Shepherds. So I know what you feel like.
I was equally angry and at the same time agreeing with your opinions as I read your blog. I’m a transplant who lived in Hawaii since 1965, entered the hula world, learned ‘olelo Hawaii and culture yet the first question I am always asked is “where are you from?” because I am haole with freckles and strawberry blonde hair. I do understand the complexities and the cultural attitude that I need to get along and “no make waves” but at the same time am angry that I am forced to accept people much younger and with less understanding of the culture talk to me like the man on the beach talked to you. Why do we accept it? Why do we let it continue? I learned about all the things you describe by experiencing them through my children who grew up with the same epithets you did. Also in the opinion by some (usually younger locals) that I must have the koko in order to learn some parts of the hula. Luckily I grew up in Hawaii with the older generation that was more gentile and accepted people for their actions and not their color. Racism is racism.
It makes me sad because I love Hawaii so much.
Hi Maliuana,
I think the toughest thing is that we stand out with the blonde hair and freckles–it reminds others we’re haole.
It bugs me too when Guatemalans, Filipinos, Latinos from the mainland–no idea about the culture, no history here–they are unharrassed (that I can tell) because anyone brown is better. We stay silent about it because we’re conditioned to. I was actually really nervous writing this piece, breaking a sort of agreement I grew up with: “we won’t beat you up if you don’t remind us you’re there.” Yes, racism is racism. Thanks for sharing and telling it like it is, and has been for you.
Thanks, Toby, from a writer about to do a magazine piece on a recent visit to Oahu. Even though it’s for a golf magazine, I’ve been devouring information on the culture, and you and your respondents have given me a great deal to chew over! I know I am wholly unqualified to comment authoritatively after just half a dozen visits to your island paradise, but I was struck by the haole PR folks selling Aloha as if it were something in a jar or a spray bottle, something akin to the “land of smiles” label that Thailand trumpets in its travel propaganda.
My cynical and wisecrack response was to dub their efforts to hustle Hawaii to haoles: “Hawaiiantology, the Cult of Kindness.” Even though they may have a bit of sincere aloha in their veins, it struck me that the culture was much deeper, complex and contradictory than their sloganeering indicated. And you, your mom and your astute followers have taught me more in an hour than I learned in my all too brief eight days on Oahu. Mahalo to you all…..
Thank you for taking the time to research a little deeper, David. It’s a responsible writer and journalist who does his (or her) homework. This is a complex and highly emotionally charged topic for many and we especially appreciate writers who discuss our islands looking beyond the surface PR message.