Hawaii Day Four: acknowledging

I had been waiting for Wednesday, January 24 for thirty seven days. Back on December 18, 2023, I had two surgical procedures performed on my left eye.

Not until, January 15 did the eye surgeon grant me permission to start exercising again. Luckily for me, that first run would take place in a quiet neighborhood in Waialua, Hawaii.

Courtesy of Santa, I had packed in my suitcase a new pair of running shorts. My how the design of running shorts has changed over the years. These shorts were roomy with a liner, two standard pockets, plus an extra zippered pocket for carrying lightweight valuables.

One of my running shoes has my home address on a special tag velcroed to a shoestring. When I run out of town, I always carry with me the address of where I’m staying. That is just in case I lose my mind, a wild animal decides I’d make a suitable meal, or the driver of an eighteen wheeler dozes off and turns me into a pancake.

This morning, I’m going to revisit a familiar route. The town of Waialua has a paved two lane trail for walkers, runners, and bicycle riders. The trail empties out into a quiet neighborhood. At that point, I’m on a narrow, one lane road with multiple speed humps.

In that neighborhood, on my right will be ocean front homes that have the Pacific Ocean as their backyards. A few of these houses are historically significant to the area. On my left are small farms, green space, and standing in the background are the stunning Waianae Mountains.

I walk out to the main road, crossover to the path on the other side, and wonder if my legs will know what to do.

As I start, my gait is awkward, a bit unsteady. My mind is thinking what are you doing? Slowly, with each step, each stride, the legs start to regain a bit of confidence.

I greet other walkers, runners, and dog walkers. The trail ends, and I’m entering the neighborhood. I pause on the left side when cars fill the narrow, single lane road. A father rides by on a bike with two youngsters safely in place. One is to be dropped off at the nearby elementary school. At some point, a rooster and a couple of chickens scurry by in front of me.

Even though I did a bit of stretching before I left the house, my aging brain has already acknowledged tomorrow, Thursday—my legs will be sore.

While I am powerfully tempted to make the full neighborhood loop that I made on a previous Hawaii visit, the rational part of my brain talks me out of it. I go to the end of the street, and then start retracing my steps back to the house.

On the way back, I startled two beautiful small yellow birds out of a shrub. Their ascent is as fast as a jet fighter leaving the flight deck of an aircraft carrier. My old brain is feeling the warm, humid air. Like a kid on a long road trip, the gray matter is asking me how much further?

Back on the path that parallels the Waialua Beach Road, I see my landmark coming up for my left turn on to Kaiea Place. I stop, stop my watch, look both ways, and cross the road. My run time was 35:46.

I walked back to the house, gulped a glass of water, and quickly fixed breakfast. Our group had decided to be adventurous with a hike out to Kaena Point.

Kaena Point is a cherished park. The hike can be challenging, but at the end, hikers enter a protected nesting compound for the magnificent seabird, the albatross.

Driving out to the park entrance, we see grounds used for playing polo, an airfield that specializes in gliders, and a variety of scattered homesteads.

Once out of the van, with great energy we start the hike on the Coastal Hiking Trail. From this footpath, hikers are afforded postcard perfect views of the Pacific, and the shoreline it has created for centuries.

The Beach Boys’ drummer Dennis Wilson titled his first solo album, Pacific Ocean Blue. Today, with bright sunshine, a robust wind, and a churning surf we are treated to the blue hues of this mighty ocean.

Our footing near the shore line walks us over a combination of sand and eroded lava rock. At some points, the hard-wearing wind blasts our ankles and shins with sand. Also, sporadic saltwater drops blown from the crashing waves to our right gently land on us.

But before we change the trajectory of our path, we come upon a beached seal resting in the soft sand. The seal is motionless. We wonder if the seal is alive.

As Betsy, steps quickly past the seal, she is startled by a hasty snort from the seal. We interpret this exhaling as a territorial warning—I’m still alive.

Eventually, we adjust our trek toward the 4WD access trail. This adjustment improves our footing and gives us more exposure to a variety of blooming native plants.

With steady determination, we make it to the entrance to the gated and fenced protected area for the albatross. We opt not to make the full loop around this enclosure, and that’s ok.

Because in the scrubby landscape, we spot a few quietly nesting albatross. And before we turn around, a couple of the albatross with their long wings like glider planes sail into the gusty wind. Wilbur and Orville Wright would admire the efficiency of their perfectly created wings.

On the way back, we made one wrong turn, but we quickly reversed our misdirection and found our bearings again. I’m certain our aging bodies silently cheered when our eyes could see the rooftops of cars in the parking lot.

Back in the van, we decided to refresh ourselves by finding nourishment at multiple parcels of food trucks along the Kamehameha Highway in Haleiwa.

With our lunches in tow, we drove back to the house, enjoyed our chosen meals, and set a departure time for the drive to the Waimea Valley for the Tao Luau.

By the time we left the house for the five o’clock performance, the rain had showed up. The raindrops didn’t dampen the spirits of our hosts when we arrived at the theater.

They moved the traditional cultural demonstrations inside. We were taught how to make our own headgear from weaving long, narrow leaves together. These leaves reminded me of the snake plant back home .

The luau is a treat. The narrative from beginning to end captures Hawaiian culture and heritage with dignity, appropriate humor, and highly skilled performers. We had a very enjoyable evening for lots of reasons, but I credit the host of the evening for setting the right tone.

The luau space is intimate without being overcrowded. The tone set is grounded in acknowledging an easy give and take from the performers to the audience. A wholesome relationship is built by incorporating very simple, but meaningful values of dignity and respect for people.

We left in good spirits.

We arrived back at the house and collapsed.

We needed sleep.

But before I dozed off, my brain returned to the tone of the luau. I kept thinking about how the host for the evening gracefully made a point about the importance of acknowledging.

A part of acknowledging is recognizing that respect for basic human values appears to be quickly slipping away from us in this cantankerous old world.

I wonder what impact dignity and respect might have on us in acknowledging the challenges we face?

Might dignity and respect provide us the better footing to find the path for working together to solve our challenges?