Wailing in Winter

It doesn’t matter where you are, you feel it. The sadness of injustice, the humiliation of a nation, the grieving of a family, of a community. You want to hide your head in the sand and hope that when you resurface it is a new dawn. A better space, and place to raise our grandchildren. Calling on our better angels; we are ready when you are.

Until then, what better place to lay my head on the sand than Maui. With friends, some old snorkeling gear, and an old ratty pair of Allbirds. Oh, and a couple bottles of our favorite rums. Can’t forget that!

Even though I have been here many times, in looking back I realize I had not written about it before. I could easily write a book of my experiences on these islands, especially since my first visit in my 20’s. I landed in Hana on a little puddle jumper flight from Honolulu. A six seater Cessna, part of a small fleet at the time called Royal Hawaiian Air.

There was even a small landing strip in Kaanapali. A bar was on the second floor of the little terminal. We would watch small planes land and take off from there. Paradise at the time, it was the early 70’s and Maui still felt like an island not yet fully discovered. Nor like a suburb of LA.

My goodness what changes have fallen upon it and most recently the severe fire in Lahaina, wiping away so much, for so many. Including me, segments of my life’s memories erased on an Etch-a-Sketch of flames.

Places I visited or hung out, over many years, with friends, family, and our children. All gone and desolate. Save the remains of the old Lahaina prison walls, still standing from an era of Hawaiian kings long ago.

Oh, and I almost forgot the whales. That is why we are here this trip, the whales are running and we see them every day. Breaching, spraying, playing, and having a good old time. The channel between Maui, Lanai, and Molokai is a favorite safe spot for the new calves. And we are loving it too!

There’s something about the waters on Maui that are restorative. And even as crazy a place as it has become, it’s still wonderful to walk along the coastline and dip into the water. Maybe stop and have breakfast at some funky café, and even try to speak pidgin English with the locals.

At this time and on this trip, I take solace in the history of the islands. They are resilient in their own right. Regardless of the crazy things we humans do. Whales still breach and feed between the channels. The sun still sets and rises, and the palms still gracefully sway in the wind.