Go away, Grinch ADVERTISING Go away, Grinch I was appalled by the photo that you ran on the Monday, Dec. 12 front page. At what point did someone in a cheap and evil looking plastic mask become a representative for
Go away, Grinch
I was appalled by the photo that you ran on the Monday, Dec. 12 front page.
At what point did someone in a cheap and evil looking plastic mask become a representative for Christmas? Dr. Seuss must be rolling in his grave.
Mark Phipps
Kailua-Kona
Scenes from a destructed park
I was walking my narrow village road this morning, toward the grinding and scraping sounds of bulldozers in Kukuihaele Park. After a moment, I noticed a Japanese-tourist couple were coming toward me. They were walking a few paces apart, the man in front. He looked outraged; she was weeping. I thought they were having an argument.
I kept looking straight ahead with my eyes off them so they wouldn’t feel uncomfortable.
But as I passed them, the wife said to me in a thick accent, “Are you going to the park?”
I told them, “No, I’m just getting exercise. We can’t visit the park. The park has been ruined.”
I realized that the couple weren’t fighting at all. They had just seen the park. The husband asked, “Why?”
He took out a Japanese guidebook and opened it to a photo of Kukuihaele Park when it was beautiful.
“This is a famous park in Japan. Many people in Japan know this place. Why destroy beautiful famous place?”
I told them that our county government wanted to give a big contract to the company with all the bulldozers. I explained that there were ball teams from Hilo to Honokaa who wanted to play baseball here.
Their eyes pleaded for logic to the insanity. I told them that yes, it made no sense to destroy such beauty. I told them that we residents fought long and hard to save the park. I told them that we shared their anger and pain. Something I said seemed to satisfy them. They nodded slowly and looked at one another, then back toward me.
“Ah, thank you,” said the husband.
Just then a massive apple-green construction truck rumbled toward us. It squealed and hissed as it slowed, waiting for us to hop off the road to make room for it to pass.
As the gust of wind from the passing truck blew the wife’s hair in front of her face, she still managed to bow and say, “Good luck.”
Janet Ashkenazy
Kukuihaele
