Conversations in Paradise

Waiting for a story in Hawaii.  Having now committed to a regular writing practice I am finding that I am looking and listening for stories everywhere I go. The weather, the rainbow, the coarse sand and rocks on my tender feet, have the potential for story. The tropical air with its touch of humidity and occasional rain shower are all potential stories. Conversations with strangers have the potential for story.

 Last night we had an animated conversation about baseball and the challenges for kids who might want to pursue a career in professional sports. The story there for me was how similar the parental concerns are for athletes as they are for actors.  Applause, the lights, the status in youth can leave an intoxicating and unquenchable mark on the impressionable, talented, rising star. Parents, coaches, and teachers all have to help keep a young person’s feet on the ground and provide the balanced guidance required to navigate the treacherous line between false hopes and youthful dreams.

 This morning we had coffee on the beach at 6:30 in the morning with a group of people who live here part time in the summer. Here is Kahala Beach on Oahu. The Emperor and Empress of Japan are staying next door at the Kahala Beach Hotel.  Needless to say, I think we landed in some nice digs. Talk turned this morning to the real estate bust and the underlying greed that got us to where we are.  One person remarked that the problem went back to the 1970’s, another said it goes back to post World War II and the GI Bill that allowed vets to buy homes for no down. I disagreed. I know this is how my parents got into their first home. I cannot equate in any way, the men and women of the “Greatest Generation” with the greedy Wall Street tycoons of 2009. What is missing today is the moral compass that guided our parents and grandparents. There was not an expectation of wealth and privilege – there was no sense of entitlement among those returning from Europe and the Pacific. There was a work ethic and appreciation for the potential they had to make their own way. Nothing was handed to them as it has been to this current generation.  I sipped my coffee, gazed out at the shimmering ocean through coconut palms, thought of my parents and smiled. 

 Perhaps subconsciously I’ve made a connection between World War II, the Japanese Emperor next door and our upcoming visit to Pearl Harbor. Funny the things we think about when on vacation, far from home and family. It is one of the great benefits of travel… My parents and brother were at Virginia Beach on December 7, 1941. There is a picture of my father, handsome in a fedora, holding baby Robin as he was called then, with my mother looking tailored in a suit on that fateful day. A black and white photo that tells a story of the beginning of a defining moment in our history.  I remember the stories of my parents moving the crib away from the window and the black outs at night, the fear of attack or invasion.  It would be eighteen years until my birth – at the tale end of the Baby Boom generation and sixty-eight years until my visit today to Pearl Harbor on July 15, 2009.  And the story continues.