Hawaii Day Three: history

I slept, but I woke up at 3:00 a.m.

I couldn’t get back to sleep. After all, back home in Richmond, it was 8:00 a.m.

So, I quietly organized myself. I tread lightly on the beautifully stained wooden stairs into the open den. From those twelve stair steps, I took the short walk to the two step stairs that lead into the kitchen.

I’m sorry, but I selfishly love the stillness of this time. I scurried through my devotional routine, scribbled barely legible handwritten notes for a weekly church video, and then opened up my old laptop.

In the predawn darkness, I heard a burst of bird chatter. My watch said 5:25 a.m. I didn’t hear the bird sounds again. I assume that a bird elder said to the early chirper, go back to sleep, your too early.
I tried that self-talk with my old body, but sleep resisted me.

At some point on Monday, I blurted out to our friends—“I can’t believe it is the middle of January, winter, and I’m sitting on a porch in shorts, with tropical breezes rustling palm tree branches, and the Pacific waving to me in the distance.”

And yet, here we are.

The birthing of this trip came from Butch’s wife, Marian, something about an early 50th wedding anniversary celebration. The years, 1975 and 1976, were our starting dates for the long road of marriage.

Soon, the talk became more serious, and in fairly short order our three commanders confirmed this plan.

This first week, we have the privilege of staying in the beautifully renovated vacation home of Betsy’s sister, Abby, and her husband, Art. The second week, we board a Norwegian Cruise Line ship for a tour of the other Hawaiian Islands.

Today, we met our 8:30 a.m. departure time. We piled in the van. With the steady Reverend Sherrill, as our driver, and essential front and back seat navigators, we were driving into Honolulu. We had two destinations—Pearl Harbor and the National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific.

Aside from missing one exit, we made it to Pearl Harbor. At 9:50, we were scheduled to board one of the shuttle boats for the ride over to USS Arizona Memorial. We heard simple guidance from National Park Service personnel, and as we prepared to board the shuttle a quiet, stillness settled over us.

As our friend, Dan Callow, pointed out at the end of the day—“the whole time we were at Pearl Harbor this morning, I kept thinking about what it must have been like to be in this harbor back on December 7, 1941.”

A docent in the center of the Arizona’s memorial, helps visitors understand the fury of the life ending attack. His words reinforce the horrific toll of war. This is also driven home with the exhibits and assorted media presentations at this national memorial.

Another takeaway from our visit, came from my college roommate, the Reverend Sherrill, with what he describes as “I didn’t realize moments.” A visitor could easily spend hours, or days pondering those moments.

We found our way back to the parking lot. A driver looking for a parking space was trailing us. Little did he know that it takes even young senior citizens lots of minutes to reload into a van.
With steady, efficiency, we found our way to the National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific.

I sense this remarkable memorial is overshadowed by Pearl Harbor. I understand why. I’m no travel expert, but I would tell anyone who makes the trek to Hawaii—you must, must visit both memorials.

I often marvel at the vision of people who can look at a unique piece of land and figure out how to transform it into a hallowed space. That’s what took place on this land at the Punchbowl Crater.

Yes, in terms of documenting history, there is lots to take in with the stunning mosaic displays. But, there is something exceptional about the grounds of this memorial. Even with this second visit, my heart can feel the care that went into creating the landscaping, the magnificent vistas, and the dignity of the stone memorials to honor the fallen.

And you must make the walk to the overlook, you will never forget it. The overlook allows you to cast your eyes upon the city of Honolulu and the Pacific Ocean.

It was approaching one, when we loaded back into the van. Now, we were going to be brave and drive back into Honolulu in search of its famous Waikiki Beach and lunch.

Once we found a parking space, we had lunch at an unlikely location— the second floor open terrace of a Tommy Bahama store.

After lunch, our curiosity overcame us to check out the local ABC store that we kept seeing frequently. Yes, they did sell liquor at the ABC store, but this was basically a modern general store for tourists. Sadly for the owners, we made no purchases.

Finding our way to the famous Waikiki was more challenging. The big hotels made access discouraging. One public access point was closed. Yet our persistence paid off. We found a sunshine covered sidewalk that took us down to see the famous shoreline.

After this glimpse, our attention turned to traveling home to Waialua. Fortunately, a collective sense of direction led us to the parking garage, and even better we found the van.

Getting back to Waialua gave us the experience of exiting Honolulu during its rush hour. Nerves of steel Sherrill brought us back to Waialua safe and sound.

At some point, we had a quiet dinner of leftovers.

Plans were sketched out for Wednesday, and we all headed off to find some sleep.

Before dozing off, I thought about how sleepy and calm Pearl Harbor had been on December 7 prior to the attack.

Honolulu has changed so much since 1941. Its previous uncluttered skyline is now dominated by high-rise hotels and all types of commercial buildings.

I’m thankful to be out in here in the country pace of Waialua away from the hardscape backdrop that frames the famous Waikiki Beach.

And as I wait for sleep to find me, I can’t erase the sacrifice that we were reminded of earlier today.

At the National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific, these words caught my attention at the Dedication Stone:

“In these gardens are recorded the names of Americans who gave their lives in the service of their country and whose earthly resting place is known only to God.”