Na Leo says it With Song -- I Miss You, My Hawaii

Hawaii has beckoned and called to me for many dozens of years. All told, I have spent a decade living on the Hawaiian Islands and even now I cannot describe what magnetic force draws me there to reside.

I am not a beach person. The sun is too hot and the tiny, racing crabs are too numerous for my liking. It’s not the beach that lures me back time and again.

I don’t own a kite nor am I a windsurfer. I have windsurfing friends, but we have no skills in common. They are a brave and risk-taking bunch.

Unlike them, it is not the wind which calls me back.

Sometimes I think it is the colors. The colors are vibrant and alive on the Islands of Hawaii. But aren’t colors vibrant in every country and every state? How could it be the colors that call to me?

The first time I lived on a Hawaiian Island, I stayed less than a year. When I departed, I thought I was done. I had no intention of going back. It had been a grand era in my life, but life was calling me elsewhere.

Five thousand miles away and a week later, I found myself homesick for a home I had lived in so briefly and for people whose dialect I could not imitate.

As months and years went by, I felt an infatuation toward Hawaii. Like a starry-eyed bride-to-be, I traveled there again to live and work.

In the daily rhythms of Oahu life, there are the local people; the friendly, loving old-time people who know the real Hawaiian language, not just the remnants taught in university.

I was blessed to meet Irmgard when she was in her late 80’s. Irmgard Aluli had written more than 200 songs during the 1950’s and 1960’s. I felt privileged to be allowed to write Irmgard’s personal history for her family. I remember attending one of the many evenings in Irmgard’s honor at the Hawaii Theater. Na Leo, the amazingly talented female trio, sang in honor of Hawaii’s songstress. Then Irmgard sat on the stage in a chair and spoke, unscripted. She was the embodiment of much that is Hawaiian.

There are also many other ethnicities on the islands of Hawaii. Each group of peoples bring tradition and proud histories. There are Filipino, Japanese, Portuguese, Korean, Tongan, Samoan and relatively speaking, a few Caucasians, on Oahu, Maui, the Big Island, Kauai, Lanai and the smaller isles. Hawaii is a melting pot of cultures. Many states in this great United States of America can say that, too. Yet they do not call me to return after I have visited, met and loved people there. Only Hawaii calls to me.

Every morning on Oahu is the same. You open the drapes and say, “Sunny again?” The mynah birds caw and tease in the trees. Jacaranda Trees and Shower Trees decorate every street in lilac or lemon colors, tall as Oaks and dazzling as hula dancers.

Geckos live in every house, clicking at night so you know where they are if you need them to come eat a cockroach. The cockroaches come in various varieties on the Hawaiian Islands. Some fly in from Asia. They are called the B-52 Bombers. They can be five or more inches in length. Arriving in swarms and settling into whatever neighborhood they like, some residents receive a battalion of unwanted, very unwanted, buzzing bombers if the balcony window is left open.

It is not the cockroaches I miss. And yet, Hawaii would not be Hawaii without the undesirable aspects as well as the beauty.

There is laughter in Hawaii. There is warmth and love. There is sadness and need for change. The Spirit of Aloha is the very essence of the culture.

There is something indescribable about these young volcanic islands. The dancers know. The singers know. The artists know. What else calls me back again and again? I don’t quite know. It may be a mixture of all these qualities of Hawaii, not one singularly. But when I go away for a time, I say – as Na Leo sings – I Miss You, My Hawaii.

It is a well-known saying on the islands of Hawaii: You can leave the islands, but the islands will never leave you.