The Sea Calls Me | Photo Blog : Myrtle Beach Edition

LOCATION: Myrtle Beach State Park

COST TO ENTER THE PARK: $5 for 16 and above | $3.25 for 65 and older | $3 per child ages 6-15

I went to Myrtle Beach State Park on May 9th. This is typically NOT tourist season so the beach and the pier was nice and empty. There were a few people along the beach and a few people fishing from the pier but nothing like you'd expect during tourist season (June through August). 

I was born and raised in Hawai'i so I have a very high expectation of what a beach should look like. I have to say that Myrtle Beach was everything I needed to see and feel and be a part of in the moment. It is not similar to the Hawai'i beaches that I grew up on but it is still beautiful nonetheless. I will always have a love affair with the ocean and Myrtle Beach did not disappoint. Perhaps I will move closer to the shore soon. I have missed the ocean so much. I look forward to when I will be able to be in it again.

******

I cannot remember the first time I went into the ocean and yet I cannot remember my childhood without mentioning the ocean. I would bet that my folks took me into the Pacific waters before I could even roll over on my own because we have always lived by the shore. All of my summers were spent at the beach, in the water. My folks never slathered sunscreen on my melanin-rich skin so my skin would turn purple under the steady glare of the sun. 

Hot summer days, when the ocean was glassy, my father would go skin diving with a simple pole spear and a T-Bar to hold his catch. The pole spear was always yellow and it was made of fiberglass. One end was equipped with three steel prongs and the other end was a rubber loop that allowed the holder to use the spear as a sling shot. He used goggles and a snorkel and donned tabis and fins. Tabis? What are those? Well a google search returns a wikipedia entry that states it is a Japanese sock, ankle high with a separation between the big toe and the other toes. He would put his swim fins over the tabis. 

When he entered the ocean, I never once thought that he would not return. I always knew that he was safe in the ocean and so was I. Even now, when I set foot into the sea, any sea, I am fluid and become a part of the great wide expanse of water. There is no fear; only joy, which is larger than happiness. I will always feel this way, I'm sure, even beyond this life. The freedom and weightlessness of being in the ocean and the gentle rocking of the tide is the most transcendent feeling. In sadness, the ocean masks my tears. When I am joyous, it amplifies my laughter. And when I submerge my ears just under the surface of the water, with my face toward the sun, and I am floating in bliss, the Goddess within speaks and I hear her. 

After hours at sea, my father would walk out of the ocean. I cannot recall a time when he arrived empty-handed. Dried Octopus was my favorite gift from the sea when I was little. When my father emerged from the ocean, there would be several octopus writhing along his T-Bar and maybe some fish, usually manini (convict tang) and sometimes kala (unicornfish). I was always terrified of the tentacles along the legs of the octopus. I feared that it would suction my father to sickness or maybe even me. After rinsing the octopus, my father would pound it in a pot for several minutes. This tenderized the meat. After he completed that step, he would spread the octopus out on a line, attach it to the line with clothespins where it would hang in the sun to dry. The octopus would turn a deep purple color and the interior was a grayish white. I could eat this all day. The meat was chewy and was flavored by the natural salt of the ocean. I think back on those days with great fondness and realize how blessed I am because of my father's skills and because I grew up along the ocean shore. The ocean gives and we gratefully receive. 

I never realized the magic of my father's "water-eyes" until I was learning to find the octopuses and their hiding places on my own. I was a teenager when my father would allow me to accompany him on his day dives. I had no desire to go night diving with him. The darkness of the ocean was far too mysterious for me and he would only go when the moon was hidden. But the day dives were magnificent. The way the light of the sun would shimmer in the water and cast its light on the sand still makes me smile to think of it. I always stayed within fifteen feet of my father. I know he swam slow just so that I could keep up. The excitement inside me was palpable when I would see him spot an octopus. Octopus' are very stealth. They can camouflage themselves anywhere. I would never see the octopus. My father would place the spear in a hole in the rocks and the legs of the octopus would wrap itself around the spear and that is how I would spot them. I never did get good at spotting the octopus. He said it's the way the rocks look that gives away where the octopus could be hiding. I understand the concept, I just never got really good at seeing it. My "water-eyes" are not as magical as my dads. 

Of all the places I could be in the world at this very moment, I find myself living in a city that is land locked. The ocean is a two-and-a-half hour drive to Myrtle Beach. And of all the things I have given up to move to this city, it is the ocean that ever calls to me. Truly, I have risen from the ocean with my mother being from Samoa and my father being of Hawaiian decent. Their lives and those that came before them rose from the ocean as well. It is the ocean that binds me to them and to all of my ancestors all through my familial lines. Even the Swedish blood that runs through my veins required an ancestor to board an ocean liner that eventually landed him in Samoa in the South Pacific. And my pure Chinese great-grandfather also had to board a ship to make his way for new fortune and new experiences in the tiny Kingdom of Hawai'i in the middle of the Pacific. And even if I'm in this wide world, seemingly, making my way all alone, I know that my mother and those who have birthed into their next life watch over me. They guide and protect me and I will always find their spirits when I am joyously drifting upon the ocean water.

I've been staring at the edge of the water

'Long as I can remember, never really knowing why

I wish I could be the perfect daughter

But I come back to the water, no matter how hard I try

Every turn I take, every trail I track

Every path I make, every road leads back

To the place I know, where I can not go, where I long to be

See the line where the sky meets the sea?

It calls me

And no one knows, how far it goes

If the wind in my sail on the sea stays behind me

One day I'll know

If I go there's just no telling how far I'll go

-Performed by Auli'i Cravalho (How Far I'll Go)

The Best This World Has To Offer : My Dad

I have been away from the blog for quite sometime. I was down with the flu. I can't remember the last time I was this sick. I pride myself on maintaining my health but this flu had me all the way down. Having endured this attack on my respiratory system has put me in the mindset of getting healthier than I've ever been.  My father is my example of the picture of health. He turned 75 this past October and he's like wine - getting better with time. His skin, his vitality, the sharpness of his mind, no need for medication -- of all the things I could wish for from my father, I hope I inherited his good health genetics. And there is a lot my father can offer but as I age, may I age exactly the way he is aging. This picture of him was taken yesterday. A dear friend took a pic with him and posted it on Facebook. I cut her out of the picture because I don't have her permission to post her picture. I don't have my dad's permission either but I don't think he'll mind.

My father is so talented. He can do anything. When I was little, he fixed all our cars along with his best friend, Unko Bubu. (Random fact: My best friend's nickname is BooBoo also.) He can paint beautiful scenes, oil or acrylic on canvas. He can fix anything. He can grow anything from acres of tapioca to acres of papaya trees, hundreds and thousands of papaya seedlings, hundreds of ti plants, noni plants, areca palms, anything you can think of - he can grow it or nurse it back to health.





He can play music though he will never admit it. He can sing though he will never admit that either but give him the microphone at karaoke and pick a song for him like, "After the Loving" by Engelbert Humperdinck and he will blow. His mind is sharp and full of so much information. He tells the best stories too especially the spooky ones. He can cook. My memories of my childhood are filled with dishes that he made for us that are now my comfort foods. And though I can make them similar to him, they will never be the way he makes them. Never. He can lay cement - watch the video below where I tell the story of how he did the concrete slab for a shot put ring my senior year in high school. #GoBigRed


He can build concrete walls. My little brother crashed into the neighbor's wall and my father fixed it. You can't even tell where the damage was done. He is a well-trained Karate master of the Goju-Ryu practice. He studied Siu Lum Pai Kung Fu under Sung Au. I think his dedication to martial arts makes him so limber today. I never feel afraid when I'm with my father or even if he's miles away because I know that all I need to do is call him and he will come running. On so many occasions, his wisdom and his spiritual and emotional strength has guided me through my darkest days and I've had plenty of them.

When I think of the best thing that this world has to offer, I think of my father. You would think that I would have remained in Hawai'i to make the most of the time that we have left together. I cannot imagine him ever growing old or ever needing me the way I need him. Yet the reality is that we must all pass through the portals of death into a new birth into the universe somewhere. My theory of the path of least resistance places me here in South Carolina right here and right now. Ideally, I flow like water never struggling against myself but moving with the waves and the currents over stony paths and still waters. After announcing my divorce back in September 2016, I told my father and he has been a pillar of strength for me as I navigate my way around this single-woman thing. He is ever worried that I have no one to provide for me. I'm grateful that I have been able to provide for myself but more than that, I have a strong and steady support system that holds me up. I am truly blessed.

I did not intend for this to be a tribute to my father and yet it is a very shallow one because there is no way I could encompass my lifetime with him in this short post. Yesterday he called me and said, "Babe next week there's going to be X-amount in the bank account. I want you to use it for whatever you need for your new home." This past Tuesday, I made an offer on a home and it was accepted. Tentative closing in thirty days then it's mine, all mine.

I don't know how long I will be here in South Carolina but for the time being I'm going to stay put and try going at this thing all by myself. I miss my family and my whole life in Hawai'i, the friends and my Red Raider loyalty, the beautiful ocean, and all the things that are so familiar to me. It's scary as hell but there HE goes, my dad, making sure that I'm not really alone. The idea of silence and solitude in my own house is almost scary and yet I crave it so that I can focus on my writing. I don't need 1,600 square feet. Really, I probably only need about 500 square feet and yet the path of least resistance has given me the 1,600 square feet. I came here with eleven bins, the clothes on my back, a very broken heart, and a mind full of big dreams. And now the eleven bins are about to expand into a full three-bedroom house and more stuff. My heart is still a little banged up (it keeps me humble) and my mind is still full of big dreams but I'm here. I'm trying to place one foot in front of the other and move toward the life I was destined to live.

Thoughts of Her

The thought of my mother pops into my head on many occasions. It will be in random moments when her memory is least expected.

In a sea of Red at a Kahuku High School football game

While playing sudoku on my phone

Looking at a Facebook picture that I uploaded several weeks ago that my father commented on saying, "No one mourns her loss more than me."

Looking at an unkempt yard

Looking at an immaculate kitchen or a spotless living room

I miss her.

I miss her everyday and it seems like I miss her more as time passes.

Things that she's taught me seems to make complete sense now. While she was here, I seemed to fight against her wisdom and logic.

She lives on in me in a way that I thought I would never appreciate. All her countless hours of tireless, patient teaching has affected me so profoundly.

These past few days, I've been fighting a cold. When I was at my worse, I instantly thought of the many times my mother bathed and nurtured me as a child. No doubt, I took her for granted while she was here on the earth. For that, I regret every moment I spent fighting against her wisdom.

And yet, it is in our disagreements that I have come to continually discover "ME".

My mother is one of my greatest teachers and I look forward to reuniting with her.... I know when I do see her again, it will be like no time at all had passed.

Please grant me the endurance to get through this lifetime relatively quickly and full of lasting memories as I journey toward my next lifetime... ever searching to meet with HER again.

Day 03 : My Parents

I feel like I talk about my parents all the time so if you've heard this story before -- I apologize in advance.

I'm home in Hawai'i mostly to put my mind at ease about the health condition of my mother. That is our relationship today -- me, the caregiver for my mother. Though she still gets around well enough, she is nowhere near how she used to be just five years ago. She's still around after five strokes, kicking cancer, a broken knee, and now she battles diabetes. I can't call it, why she's still around with all the health problems she suffers from, except maybe she has just an unbelievable will to live. I have resolved to not question what the cosmic forces have prepared for me. I know there are countless lessons to be learned by serving my mother. I have always known, as a daughter of a Samoan woman, that it was/is my duty to care for her as she ages. I watched her do it with her mother and her grandmother. Both women lived in our home. I'm so lucky to have known them.

My mother is quite the dancer. Her taualuga was a sight to behold.

Mom is 'afakasi' - half cast - Samoan/Swedish... what a combination.

My mother is from the village of Vaitoloa in Western Samoa. She left there as soon as she graduated from school. I believe she graduated from Pesega. She has never been back since. All she's talked about in the last couple of years is returning to Samoa... for good. I hear such great longing in her voice and wish I could take her back there not only to see the joy in her face but also to connect with the precious soil that she will always call home. I wish I could feel the breeze on my face, as she did when she was a little girl, while riding bareback on her horse. I wish I could be as daring as she, eating fruit bats and grubs, swinging from trees into the stream, and eating sea urchins fresh from the ocean.

My mother at the plantation where she loves to be... even now. Her knife in her arm, ready to siva!

My mother was the eldest girl of 17 siblings. My grandmother was widowed after child number 16. She bore two more after the passing of my grandfather. My grandmother, without any real options, was forced to take on work for American Mormon missionaries. This left my mother in charge of the entire brood. I can't imagine the gravity and the weight of having to care for all those children. This has shaped and formed her and consequently has influenced me as well. She truly is the embodiment of a scripture in the Old Testament:

Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies. She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness. Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her. Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.

-Proverbs 31: 10, 27-29

My father. I don't quite know how my father learned to be a father because he did not grow up with his father. My grandfather died as a young man, leaving my grandmother with seven children to raise. Alone. I am in such awe of the great man he is. His tenderness and mercy upon me, as the former "Black Sheep" of the family, amazes me. My love for my father, rather the love my father has for me is probably best expressed in his actions.

My father with the Ukulele... way before I was even a glimmer in his eyes. He is Hawaiian/Chinese.

My father served in the Air Force during the Vietnam War.

I remember as a very little girl, I always wanted to hang out with my cousins. I'd pretend that I was a big girl and could sleep over my grandmothers house with all my cousins and not get homesick. Mom and Dad would leave me there thinking that all was well. Then, one by one, as the cousins drifted off to sleep, there I was alone and suddenly VERY homesick. My father at home, 30 minutes away, would turn around and come back for me whether it was midnight or three in the morning. That has always stayed with me. Even now, I think how tender his love for me must be. I equate that to the love of a Heavenly Father/ God. If he's anything like my mortal father then I am indeed in deep admiration and gratitude for the abundance of love in my life.

My father is an avid Martial Artist. He is very accomplished in Gojyu Karate. In his late 30's he took on Kung Fu. He has mastered them all.

My father and I. He is the greatest dad!

19 years old... in the midst of my rebellion from the values I was raised with. I remember being stuck in Waikiki. Drunk with drunk friends. My car broken down. Broke. No money. Nowhere to go. No way to return home. There weren't any buses running at 2am. One phone call home was all it took. My father was on the scene within an hour. I look back on that and think how terribly selfish I was then. I can't even imagine what my parents thought of me then. I have a perfect rememberance of how terrible I was. Yet my father... and my mother... never gave up on me. Sometimes I still identify with being the 'black sheep'. I'm still very radical in my thinking yet my father's love radiates energy like the sun. I am so blessed! So very lucky to have wonderful parents.

* * * * *
This post was very difficult for me to write. I have been in tears just realizing how much love they have for me. My feelings are so tender for my parents. It seems that our roles are changing as I take on the task of being the caregiver in their home. They are still going strong, still very much in love. I have such great examples of what marriage is and should be. I am humbled that they picked me to be their child in this life. Grateful that this bond, this relationship will last through eternity. I love you mom and dad!

Happy Fathers Day... A Tribute

A short but powerful tribute to my father.

In the King James Version of the Holy Bible... Isaiah 54:13... It reads:

And all thy children shall be taught of the Lord; and great shall be the peace of thy children

Where there is much turmoil... my fathers home is STILL a peaceful place. He has taught myself and my siblings ALL things of the Lord and our Savior. For this reason, though I may struggle daily, there is MUCH peace in my soul because of the MANY lessons he has gifted me.

So today, Dad... Happy Fathers Day!