Hanging in Oahu for a week with six of my favorite people was a great way to start my retirement, although I really don’t care for the term much. A friend suggested I call it “re-firement,” and I’m inclined to agree.
Hawaii didn’t disappoint me in the least. What an amazing place with God’s beauty at every turn. I’ve always said if I’d gone there earlier in my life, I probably would have never again lived in the Mainland. Being the sucker that I am for all things tropical.
I met my son Adam and his family on their way back from 4 years in S. Korea to be stationed in Savannah, Georgia; first time ever in my time zone. It was a week of long talks in and out of the aquamarine water of Waikiki Beach, snorkeling with the fish in Hanauma Bay, and swimming in the waterfalls of Waimea. We became good buddies with the sea turtles in Waikiki every day and had to remind ourselves that this was their home, not ours.
No rental vans were available, so we learned to navigate the bus system which took us all over the island. What better place to meet the local population than on a bus? It was amazing how helpful the locals were, happy to give you the long or short version of where to go, what to see. and even a history lesson or two. It’s apparent that Hawaiians are proud of their culture, and so they should be.
Perhaps we should ask ourselves if we are passing our culture along to others, or more importantly, define just what that culture is. Living in a resort community, I can sometimes feel the squeeze of extra people in town during the summer. I know I need to remember to welcome a tourist and let them know what a special place this is. But then again, maybe I need to be careful not to let the secret out.