Tag Archives: travel

Full Circle: At the Wheel

leaning on my original "Scubaru" by Lake Pend Orielle in northern Idaho,1993

leaning on my original “Scubaru”—at northern Idaho’s Lake Pend Orielle,1993

Dad took me car-shopping my Senior year of high school, explaining that although he’d drive the new car for a while, it was intended eventually for my use. I pictured myself in a Jeep Cherokee: four-wheel-drive, room in the back for dive gear and camping kit, a rack on top for my parents’ old orange canoe, and plenty of under-carriage clearance for the treacherous Forest-Service roads I enjoyed exploring. Instead of a Jeep, though, we drove away in a 1990 Subaru Loyale wagon—less expensive (even new), and with the same 4WD, clearance, and room in the back for all the stuff I imagined packing for my upcoming Life Adventures.

As planned, my dad drove the wagon for a couple years, periodically taking me to an empty lot at the edge of town for lessons in driving the stick-shift.  And eventually—once I’d learned not to lurch around the lot or assassinate the engine—he turned over the keys.

Subaru canoe

Set for Adventure, 1996

I’d thought myself clever to come up with “SCUBARU” as a personalized plate—but someone else had beat me to it! With sailing, scuba-diving, and canoeing in mind, I settled on WTRLOGD for the plates… Still, I come from a family that names cars, and this one would always be “Scubaru” to me.

I loaded her up at various times with Forest Service maps, tent and camp-stove, hiking boots, canoe paddles, picnic blanket, books and camera and journal… And over the years my trusty vehicle & I ventured forth to “fill in” the Idaho atlas with tracks of where-we’d-been. A five-foot map of the state hung on my wall, with all my roaming & rambles marked in highlighter pen—and at every opportunity I interspersed those outings with forays to the Pacific coast.

Scubaru proved her worth over and over again. In a blinding snowstorm atop Washington’s Snoqualmie pass, when most of the cars on the road were either pulled over or slid onto the shoulders, I put on my chains and kept right on going. An ice storm in Oregon’s Colombia Gorge encased trees, signs, and roadway in inches of solid ice, but Scubaru crept cautiously all the way to Portland, accompanied by the explosive acoustics of bursting trees alongside the road.

Subaru Sawtooth camping

Camping “off-road” in the Sawtooth National Forest, 1998

After one particularly hairy drive in the Sawtooths (a pot-holed and washed-out dirt road, no wider than the car and without turn-outs for passing—just a sheer drop, inches from the passenger tires) I spotted a warning sign: “NO passenger vehicles.” (Oops. If there were a companion sign at the other end of the road where I started, I’d missed it!) I had to peel my fingers off the steering wheel to pat Scubaru’s dashboard and congratulate her with a heartfelt “Good girl!”

Of course, even four-wheel-drive isn’t foolproof. (Though Dad also taught me not to BE a fool; specifically, not to drive into tricky conditions with the 4WD already engaged—because if you get stuck when you’re in 4WD, you’re really stuck!) Nevertheless, I had to dig her out of a couple spots. I used a snowshoe to scoop a back tire out of a snowbank in the Boise National Forest, and in the Salmon-Challis Forest put my grandpa’s collapsible Army shovel to use, extracting her from a mire of mud where a beaver dam had flooded the road…

Subaru Washington beach

Washington Coast “beach highway,” 1997

When a downpour threatened a planned picnic along the Snake River, I popped open the tailgate and happily set my spread in the back of the car.  Sheltered by the overhanging door, I savored my strawberries & brie to the soundtrack of raindrops pelting the roof. On a couple occasions, with lightning storms too close for comfort in an exposed tent, I folded down the back seats and stretched out to sleep.

On the shore of Big Trinity Lake, I woke one morning to drifts of snow piled against my tent-corners, and had to chip my solid-frozen bacon from the cooler with a hatchet… but Scubaru scooted me safely back down the mountain, heater blasting.

Along the Washington Coast where stretches of beach serve as legally designated “highway,” I misjudged the incoming tide and dashed the last leg with waves licking the tires and wipers warding off wads of sea-foam blowing against the glass. Scubaru served staunchly through many a scrape and adventure.

With a little love and care, a Subaru will run forEVER. I drove that one for close to twenty years, and I might still be driving her… But when I departed my first marriage, I didn’t stop to quibble about any of the community-property stuff. Not long after I moved out, the wagon was also absent from her accustomed spot in front of my ex’s house… I never inquired about her fate.

2014: “Kana Girl’s Hawai’ian BBQ” license-plate holder on the NEW (old) Scubaru

Fast forward a few years… My husband started making noises this summer about the red 1989 Subaru Loyale parked in front of our neighbor’s house: I wonder if they’d consider selling it. I countered with “practical” negatives—we work together and don’t need a second car, they’d have posted a sign if they wanted to sell… But Keoni recognized what I hadn’t acknowledged even to myself: my affectionate nostalgia for that whacky wandering wagon.  In no time at all he had negotiated a sale-price, payable primarily in the form of a sizable certificate to our restaurant.

Subaru Scubaru

20-odd years later: the SCUBARU plates!

Next thing I knew, I was slipping into the driver’s seat of a car that felt as familiar and comfortable as a favorite old pair of jeans.

Keoni and our son Kapena are plotting “improvements” to the engine and paint and upholstery… Fixing her up will be a fun family project, but I’m content already. I’m “back” in my very first car, and behind her wheel I’ve come full circle. This time with the SCUBARU plates!


The Double-Bride Wedding

There’s a famous line from the Hawai’ian-themed Disney movie, Lilo & Stitch: “Ohana means family, and family means nobody gets left behind.”

But as even the movie demonstrates, Family is also a very complicated thing. Sometimes it takes some time—decades, even—to reach that point where nobody is being left behind.

Hawaiian wedding

Two brides: Anela & Sarah!

Our family is a pretty good example, “All-American” in its complexity. Keoni and I have seven kids between us, from a total of three previous marriages, and with a rainbow of cultural backgrounds. (I’m the “token white person” in our family—Keoni’s kids are Hawai’ian-and-Mexican, and mine are half Filipino…)

The three oldest kids, Kulia, Anelahikialani, and Keoni—from Keoni’s second marriage—live close to one another in California with their respective partners and kids, and their mom, Diana. With these three kids, ours has been a journey of RE-connecting.  Keoni actually had very little contact with them for a long time, because his third ex-wife is one of those people who feels threatened by the idea of anyone else having a place in the heart of someone who “belongs” to her. She used to intercept calls from the other kids, block their attempts at contact, and keep them out of the picture by whatever means she could manage. When Keoni and I got together—just out of Rehab—one of the first things we did was to cash in my last free airline-miles to buy a ticket to California to see his kids. To put things in perspective here, he hadn’t seen his adult son since Keoni-the-younger was twelve.

wedding flower girl

our granddaughter Annalia (Kulia’s daughter), flower-girl at this month’s wedding

An important player in our extended family is Keoni’s second wife Diana, mother to the oldest three kids. Despite what could certainly be considered “bad history,” Diana always told the kids “keep the door open” for their dad, and have faith that he would come back into their lives. Quite honestly, we were overwhelmed by the genuine and heartfelt welcome we received—from Diana as well as from the kids. Diana is a wonderful and generous woman who did a great job of raising three amazing people—and I’m honored to count her among my friends!

A few years ago, when we owned our first restaurant, we told the Cali-kids that we’d like to provide them with Christmas dinner… They missed Daddy’s home-cooked Hawai’ian food, so we arranged  with them that we’d have food shipped and delivered at a specified time when they’d all be together. Only Diana knew the rest of the plan: that WE would be delivering! We packed the Prius with food and drove through a snow-storm from Idaho to California, calling Diana’s cell phone from a couple blocks away at the designated time. She opened up the garage door for us and told the kids “the food” had arrived. The expressions on the girls’ faces when Daddy walked through the door… That’s in my mental scrapbook of precious moments!

winter sled tubing

Sarah & Anela visiting us last winter–first time sledding for these California girls!

This month they knew we were coming, because this was an Occasion. Anelahikialani had dreamed for years—even when her Dad wasn’t actively involved in her life—that he’d be on hand to give her away at her wedding. When they visited us last winter, she and her fiancée Sarah asked us if Keoni would cook for their reception and if I would perform the ceremony. As the day approached, we teased the girls about the explosive potential of a wedding with TWO prospective “Bridezillas”… But in truth, they were both beaming. And beautiful!

Note to myself: if I ever perform another wedding for one of our own kids, I need to stock my pockets with KLEENEX!

I stood at the foot of the outdoor amphitheater on Mount Madonna and Anela appeared at the top of the stairs… Barefoot in a delightfully simple strapless gown and Hawai’ian Haku Lei, absolutely radiant, on the arms of both her parents…

Hawaiian wedding

Anela on the arms of her parents

Well, it’s just as well that all eyes were on her, because the minister was having a hard time stemming the runny nose I get when I cry. (The girls gave a thumbs-up to my short-sleeved clerical blouse—largely in giggly anticipation of the “shock-value effect” my tattoos would have on their older aunties—but it didn’t leave me with any options for subtle nose-wiping…)

A lot of OUR marriage went into the words I wrote for this ceremony—after all, it’s my “source material” when I reflect on Marriage…Which is why I choked up entirely when I got to these words: “From this day on you will have the joy of waking every morning in each other’s arms, and both of you in God’s hands.”  That right there is our bottom line—our joyful reminder to each other in our best moments, sometimes a tearful reminder in the tougher times. God gave us each other, and He’s got our backs.

wedding kiss

Anela and Sarah’s first married kiss

“Gay Marriage” has been in the headlines a lot this month—absurd arguments about “protecting” Marriage, as if any marriage could actually be threatened by anything so completely unrelated as other people also being married. Any “threats to a marriage” come from within that marriage, end of story. Let me think… My marriage is not in any way threatened—in fact, not even affected—by any other pair getting married. Not the Republican couple I run into at the mailboxes, not the teens down the block with two kids, not Laura and Maria who lived across the street and raised a great kid… Okay, I’m done with the Soapbox now.

Usually when I perform a wedding ceremony, I finish by proclaiming a couple married “by the laws of this state”… But this time the statement isn’t true.

Hawaiian wedding receptionSo… The State can go to hell on this one. I don’t presume to know God’s mind, but I DO know a God who isn’t hateful or exclusionary—so when people try to put hateful or exclusionary words in God’s mouth, I’m not buying.

Bottom line: THESE words of the ceremony do stand: “By the authority vested in me as a minister of the Word of God”…  Anela and Sarah are married.

And we are SO joyful to see the joy they bring each other.

At the outdoor reception, the very first dance (“Somewhere Over the Rainbow” by Israel Kamakawiwo’ole) featured the two brides dancing with their Dads. Diana and I stood with our arms around each other, crying and watching Keoni & Anela singing along with Izzy. Our ‘Ohana probably doesn’t fit any version of “traditional” labeling, but I have to think God approves of all the LOVE!

dancing brides

The first dance

Hau’oli la Hanau! (35)

“Aunt Tadi” with my son Christian, 2003

Thirty-five years ago today, my mother employed her primary Superpower and made a person. A day or two later I was introduced to a lifetime companion and playmate and co-conspirator and friend: my sister Karin. (She guides people’s pronunciation with this clue: “You park a KAR-in the garage.”) I turned three just a few weeks before her arrival, and my game du jour was tagging people with their initials. My new sister’s “KD” became Kadi to the family—a name that stuck permanently.  (With the occasional variation, such as “Aunt Tadi” when my son Christian was little and couldn’t pronounce K.)

with my sister, 1994—a family trip to Maine

Kadi and her husband Scott visited from Seattle last weekend, and Keoni told me he was getting a kick out of watching the two of us, noting the facial expressions and mannerisms we have in common. It’s a funny thing, how amazingly alike we are, despite our very different lives. Even some of our random OCD eccentricities are a match, like our refusal to eat the last bite of a sandwich—the piece we’ve been holding while we ate the rest. Can that possibly be genetic? It certainly wasn’t something we learned together—we discovered the quirk-in-common as adults, when we met each other for lunch one day.

my sister’s high school graduation, 1996

I don’t see my sister in my mirror, but I see her all the time in my photos. We insisted for years that we didn’t look anything alike (despite being taken for twins with some regularity), but then I began to mistake pictures of her for pictures of myself… When she first moved to Boise after graduating from Law School, she reported getting hug-attacked in REI by a perfect stranger—someone who obviously knew me well enough to hug me, but still couldn’t tell that she wasn’t me. I have occasionally gotten responses like “Duh” and “No shit” when I point her out or introduce her as my sister. Apparently it’s obvious.

Our family traveled a lot when we were growing up, so we were often the only available playmates for each other. Happily, we got along pretty well together—barring the occasional scuffle or argument, we enjoyed like minds and tastes and imaginations most of the time. Our mother has said of our six-month trip through Europe that we fought the first day, and then it seemed to dawn on us both that we would only have each other for the next half-year… So we made up—and stayed made-up for the rest of the tour.

with my sister—when she was in Law School and I was a new stay-home mom

Our friendliness is, in itself, a testament to my sister’s amiable nature. It’s not easy being anyone’s younger sister. She has gone on, though, to distinguish herself in arenas of her own—clerking for a judge on the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals, working as a Deputy Attorney General for the state of Idaho, and now with a prominent law firm in Seattle. We’re pleased with the idea that we both make our livings at writing—legal briefs in her case, and random oddities in mine…

We used to write plays together, and perform them for the captive audience of our parents and grandparents. We had to make creative allowances for the small size of our cast, which led to some memorable adaptations like “Snow White and the One Dwarf,” in which she played the princess and I played everyone else.

at a Black-Eyed Peas concert

Keoni introduced me to the idea of the ‘aumakua—the totem or guardian in Hawai’ian culture—and last summer it became clear to me that the Owl is mine. Owls were crossing my path, night and day, every time I was on the road with a writing assignment… When I wrote about the topic here, Kadi emailed me, expressing astonishment because she had developed a particular affinity for owls in the last year as well. I wasn’t expecting that, of course, but at the same time it didn’t surprise me. (I figure it’s our “Irish” coming out… Owls are totems in Celtic culture too.) Besides, we’ve always seemed to be on the same wavelength, even though our lives are outwardly so different.

Kadi & Scott’s visit last weekend

Speaking of Hawai’ian culture, Keoni has asked me to tell her “Hau’oli la hanau.” When we say it aloud (how OH-lee lah huh-NOW), people often respond by telling us their age, thinking we’ve asked them, “How old are you now?” But it actually means—from both of us—Happy Birthday!


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