On a golden morning long ago I stood on the third floor of an apartment in Hilo watching the giant Hokulea canoe come sailing into Hilo Bay. It shined in the morning sun returning from its maiden voyage to Tahiti. That was a great Hawaii moment.
On a golden morning long ago I stood on the third floor of an apartment in Hilo watching the giant Hokulea canoe come sailing into Hilo Bay. It shined in the morning sun returning from its maiden voyage to Tahiti. That was a great Hawaii moment.
I have seen many Hawaii moments.
The colorful Aloha Week Parade of the alii and kahuna walking regally along the edge of Halemaumau Crater blowing the conch shells, ending with Kahiko Hula swaying on the edge of the crater.
That was a great Hawaii moment.
You can’t go to the edge of the crater anymore, but not long ago you could stand on the edge and feel the fumes blast up into your nostrils.
Another moment came in the county building one night when Moana Akaka got up to speak at the Kahoolawe hearings. The Navy had been bombing the island for 40 years. Five Naval officers in their white uniforms sat listening nervously to scathing testimony.
Moana got up with raging fire in her eyes and let fly a thundering diatribe that shook the room, yelling Hawaiian chants, cussing out the entire U.S. Navy for bombing the island. It was something to see, one great Hawaiian moment.
And one more when I saw my friend swaying with her Hawaiian sisters one afternoon, 50 women doing the hula stirring up dust, in their long, leafy skirts, the chanting and the drums, a hundred swaying arms moving in the sun raising the ancient spirits. So inspiring.
My house in Kalapana getting covered with lava was a real moment for sure, but that is another story.
These island moments are strange to visitors and sacred to those who know. They are filled with secret meanings and actions that astonish and amaze outsiders to the culture.
Like when Hawaiian TMT protesters on Mauna Kea hugged the Hawaiian cops who were arresting them and blew the ha, their breath, into each others’ nose.
Where in this whole world does that happen? Not in Detroit or Chicago.
Telling all these Hawaiian moments is leading up to the greatest one of all.
This was a beautiful vision born in a caring heart and carried out with a vast amount of aloha.
Many people had to give much of their time, going out gathering ti leaves and then sitting down with one caring thought in their mind as they sat weaving a lei for the departed.
The group must have kept up their light-hearted talk to hold back their tears as their fingers moved tying together the many ti leaves into a long lei to remember the young ones lost forever.
I first heard of this in my living room when a friend sitting next to me told me that Hawaiians had made a ti leaf lei 49 feet long for the 49 who died in Orlando.
I felt a lump in my throat and chicken skin on my arm.
Such greatness, such heart, such empathy, and they travelled almost 5,000 miles to place it around the heart of the ones hurting and left behind.
There is your greatest Hawaii moment, there is the one humble, sweet act that shows what Hawaii is made of.
Dennis Gregory is a writer, artist, singer, teacher and Kailua-Kona resident who mixes truth, humor and aloha in his biweekly column. He can be reached at makewavess@yahoo.com