Return trip to Hawaiian paradise
Family trip revives old memories and creates new ones 50 years later
Fifty years of incredible family memories. One brief reunion trip with hotel mix-ups, dead hearing aids and hiding beers in paper bags.
For years, my Dad and my sister and I had talked about taking a trip to Hawaii to commemorate our first family visit in 1968. My mom died in 2003, but the three of us wanted badly to go back to a place we first visited as a group 50 years ago, when I took a look at those verdant, deep green hills and that brilliant water and saw my first hula and fell in love.
We made it happen earlier this year, reliving distant, fuzzy memories and creating plenty of new ones on Oahu, Maui and Hawaii Big Island.
The Outrigger Reef on Waikiki Beach was our first hotel in 1968, so that’s where we started our Hawaii 50 party. We have blurry photos of my sister and I on stage in Waikiki in ’68 with Don Ho, who used to play in a restaurant in the old International Market Place. He loved to call kids up from the audience to help him sing Tiny Bubbles, which he did with my sister and I that year. When the song was over he kissed me on the top of head. I was 12 years old and thought it was the worst moment of my life.
Don is no longer with us and they recently reopened a posh new version of the marketplace, with lush landscaping and great food. My sister and I posed for a photo with the Don Ho statue they’ve installed. Looking back, I should’ve planted a smack on his forehead for old time’s sake.
The next day we drove up the windward coast of Oahu, enjoying the small villages and thick patches of jungle and towering mountains swathed in a hundred shades of green. We stopped at the Shrimp Shack for a casual lunch of shrimp and mussels with rice and ate at rickety tables outside Ching’s grocery store. They don’t let you drink beer outside the shop unless you hide it in a paper bag, so we carefully concealed our alcohol in the hopes of avoiding a trip to the Oahu hoosgow.
Later that night, we upped the readings on the style meter with a fine dinner on the lanai at The Moana Surfrider, toasting the memory of my Mom and revelling in the tinkling sounds of an ukulele as the sun dipped into the ocean.
From there it was over to Maui for two nights at the Mauian on Napili Beach. We stayed in a single room on our ’68 trip; my sister and I in twin beds and my Mom and Dad on a folding cot. The cot collapsed with a roaring thud at least twice in the middle of the night on that first visit, sending Mom and Dad tumbling to the ground in a flurry of swear words. This time my sister had her own room and I shared a unit with my Dad. I took the couch, which managed not to budge an inch during the night.
The final leg of the reunion was on Hawaii Big Island.
My Dad thought we had stayed at the Hilo Hawaiian in 1968, so that’s what I booked. It wasn’t until we arrived that my sister told me we had actually stayed at The Orchid Isle. As it was, we couldn’t have stayed there as the property was demolished years ago.
We loved the relaxed pace of Hilo and did some sightseeing along the coast. My Dad, who’s 86, loved that my sister and I did the organizing, while he got to go along for the ride.
On the other hand, he also had his hearing aid batteries die. I was navigating small roads outside of Hilo with my iPhone as I drove. My Dad was in the back seat with one of those crummy rental car company maps they give out and kept insisting I was going the wrong way.
“Shouldn’t you be on Highway 130?” “I want to take 132.” “What? The map says you should take 130.”
“I know, Dad. I want to take 132.” “But...” My sister was in the front seat, nearly killing herself with laughter.
Seemingly before our reunion had even really started, it was time to go. There were warm alohas all around and huge smiles. We’d relived old memories and found many new ones to talk about over family dinners.
I’d love to do another family trip. But I think I’ll pack extra batteries.