MMTT4S - Sunday Afternoon Kahanamoku Edition

I've never visited Hawai'i. I've been told by my mother-in-law that I'm not allowed to go - because I wouldn't come back. I should probably heed her advice. This is the same woman who endured me absconding from Abilene, Texas with her daughter (my wife), who was 8 months pregnant, to Columbia, South Carolina. Not only did I take her only daughter, but also the only grandchild on either side of the family at the time...over 1150 miles away. Somehow, she still loves me. At least she's convinced me that she does. I am incredibly blessed to have married into my wife's family. I could not ask for better in-laws. We are able to see each other at different intervals throughout the year - Christmas and a summer trip are nearly guaranteed annual events. So, while the distance is certainly less than ideal, it's somewhat manageable with a little planning and traveling fortitude.

Hawai'i would be a different story.

Logistically problematic, face-to-face visits with family in Texas would be much more rare if one party had to cross the south Pacific. First, it would be over 3x as far mileage-wise. Plus, you can't just hop in your car and go, stopping at a Cracker Barrel for food and a Hampton Inn when you need a quick overnight break. Most of the journey is across the ocean. That typically requires airline travel, and all the money and layovers and money and delays and money and lost luggage and money and rental cars and money and long lines and money and hassles and money that often accompanies it.

Basically, my mother-in-law is saying, "South Carolina is far enough." She's probably right, too.

Walaka

Don't get me wrong. Hawai'i is a bucket list destination of mine, but so is just about any place I've never been. I want to see the world. Still, Hawai'i is...well...Hawai'i. It seems to fit my tropical persona pretty well. Visit there? By all means. Never leave? Likely. Would my extended family love to visit us in the 50th state of the union? You bet! Would it happen often? Nope - not even often enough. It's just not reasonable. My mother-in-law is wise.

Still, I go there as often as I can in my mind. My imagination takes me to the islands in the south Pacific, or at least how I envision them to be. Trust me, it's glorious. While seclusion is high on my list in these tropical destinations, so are local customs, history, and tradition. There are even a few places and events that are popular among tourists that I would like to experience. One of those is Duke's on Sunday.

Image courtesy of HenryKapono.com

Henry Kapono is a legendary Hawaiian singer/songwriter, among other things, who was born near Waikiki. He is a staple in Hawaiian culture and the music scene on the islands. He has garnered fame, acclaim and fans worldwide. He wrote a song about the Sunday scene at Duke's Canoe Club at the Outrigger Waikiki Beach Resort, a place with which Kapono is quite familiar. Duke's on Sunday is an institution. During the week, it's a beachfront tourist lounge looking out on surfriders of all types framed by iconic Diamond Head in the distance. On Sunday, however, locals roll in and actually outnumber the tourists, sometimes quadrupling the venue's population. The party ratchets up a little and Kapono and his band usually entertain the crowd from 4pm until sunset. I've discovered that anywhere locals hang out to be well worth the experience.

It's a party. With outstanding music. On the beach. In Hawai'i. Need I say more?

Image courtesy of Hawaiimagazine.com

I would be damaging my surfer soul if I didn't mention the story behind the name "Duke's." Duke Kahanamoku, a native Hawaiian of royal Hawaiian lineage, pretty much introduced surfing to the Atlantic coast, Australia and New Zealand. He was an olympic gold medalist and surfing and swimming hall-of-famer. He's said to have ridden the longest wave in modern history - a Waikiki monster for 1 1/8 miles. Duke is considered the "Ambassador of Aloha." My kind of guy. Since Waikiki was his playground, a statue of Duke stands on the beach there and his name accompanies the restaurant and bar found nearby.

After pondering all of this, I wonder if sneaking off to Hawai'i might be worth upsetting my mother-in-law after all. Hmm...

In the meantime, I'll enjoy today's tune "Duke's on Sunday" - Jimmy Buffett's take on the Henry Kapono gem - and hang ten and hang out there vicariously. You should do the same. It's a great Sunday afternoon excursion.

Image courtesy of Amazon.com

Kooky Over Heller's Book

My gypsy soul has yet again been awakened, set ablaze by a kindred spirit, calling me to break free of my quiet, veiled desperation, and to live extraordinarily. Rare is the book that so stirs the soul in such a way as this. For me, Peter Heller’s book Kook has powerfully and eloquently done just that.  

image courtesy of: http://www.peterheller.net

The narration is hilariously human and the writing is superb. The English teacher in me soon got past the (stylistically intentional) sentence fragments, and floated along on the beautifully refreshing current of language that courses throughout the book – flowing when appropriate, concise when necessary, and raw when applicable.

I was swallowed immediately by the story’s premise.

Situations and relationships convince the author to grow from “kook,” a surfers’ term for pathetic beginner - a level of proficiency many never surpass, to expert in less than a year’s span. The renowned adventure travel writer’s trek takes him from Denver to California and then southward down Mexico’s ever-changing shoreline. Friends old and new, become mentors, guiding Heller along his odyssey, introducing him to swells up and down the coast, and imparting their own brands of wisdom about surfing and life.

While some of his encounters seem beyond belief (roughhousing with a juvenile sea lion, witnessing a boulder of a man create his own wave and surf it…backwards…and on his head), Heller is real. He gets rolled, wipes out, and gloriously glides his way through an unforgettable adventure of love, self-realization, and surfing. Like me, he is both cognizant and ignorant of his own faults, awkwardly paddling through screw-ups and recoveries, to the very last page. Yet, somehow, like a tragic hero who is unaware of his tragic role, he succeeds. He wins. It’s certainly no blowout victory, but it leaves the reader with a prideful, knowing smile, and an ignited passion for knowledge, adventure, and love. And with a desire to read more of his works.

Thank you, Peter Heller, for giving me - a 49 year-old, briny-blooded kook and aspiring writer, who has a knack to wander at times - hope, a renewed spirit, and a beautiful read. And thanks to my brother, Keith, a fellow kook, who is much closer to surfing his way out of kookdom than I, for recommending and letting me borrow his copy.

Check it out here!