Start of summer

July 5, 2018

It has been 100 years since my mother was born in New York City. Her family lived on Academy Street in Inwood and that is where she lived her first five years of life and later in life when she returned to NY to work. She used to take the 1 train downtown; I only learned about this in recent years. Though she often compared the path of her life to mine and concluded that our lives were very similar she never mentioned that we both traveled on the 1 train.

If I think about leaving NYC, again, even for a few years I can't help but feel that it would be a break in 100 years of family history. We have always had a home in NY attached to our family. I think of NY as home.

July 9, 2018

In the past four days we have traveled north from New York City to Sodus Point, NY. The night sky in Sodus is a breath-taking display of stars and planets. I suspect that Maggie, who grew up in this house, knew the potential of the landscape to bring together people from all corners of her life - family, Sodus friends, Boston friends, and children. So many children exploring the space she loves.

We are staying in a house on the lake with a large deck off the back facing the water and the sunset; there's a smaller deck and fire pit on the front side of the house. Though a compact railroad style home with a single hallway from the front door to the back door, it has three bedrooms and two baths and has fit all of us, 7 adults and 5 children, perfectly. Yesterday's sunset was particularly beautiful and most everyone made it into the water as the sun shifted west before setting well after 8:30pm. The sky remained a light pink against the blue horizon long after the sun was out of sight and even as we sat around the fire pit we could see a window of the blue and pink through the trees alongside the house.

 

Yesterday afternoon we went over to Burnap Farm Market to pick cherries. There was also a petting zoo and climbing structures.

 

There's a large gas grill on the back deck and last night Pat and Kathryn grilled the chicken that had been marinating overnight and an assortment of sausage and hamburgers. Pasta salad and watermelon and some grilled vegetables made up the rest of the meal. All delicious. This morning they woke up early and headed out to work, Kathryn with the longer drive heading west and Pat with the shorter drive going east. Gena and Derek and Ruby left for their road trip to Myrtle Beach in South Carolina. They agreed to a four day stay in exchange for attending a sales pitch for a condominium on the beach. They've been coached by Kathryn on what to say and what not to say. Reminded me of the time Gregory and I went to hear a pitch for places in Canbarra Australia.

Thinking about the beach later today and a leisurely dinner here at the house.

Hawai'i trip: Day 8, June 21, 2018

Our last morning in Hawai'i. We relax into a morning off, but gear up for the trip to the airport; another long flight and the most serious chaperone responsibility of ensuring that all students are connected back to their families safely. We anticipate the unknown: parents who will surprise us at the airport, delays, confusion over luggage. Anything is possible and we are moving a beast of teenage bodies.

I finish my hotel stay sitting by the balcony with a view of the ocean and the sliding glass door open and write a few more post cards. I am meeting a student's parents at the registration desk at 11am to send the student off. He is staying on for a vacation. Already, we have sent a few students home or to meet their families in other locations. As we collect students and luggage one more time in the seating area below the hotel lobby the choir group is discussing what to do since their flight has been delayed by two hours. They decide to load everyone up and stop one more time at the mall before heading to the airport.

The instrumentalists are waiting for their buses to arrive. The buses are circling the hotel area, but they can't pull in until the choir buses have left. Navigating traffic in O'ahu has been challenging for the drivers and we marvel at how they seem able to move these vehicles in, out and between traffic and people to get us where we are going. We load up the buses and head for the airport thinking there will be time to grab snacks and drinks there. It is crowded and there are lines of people out the doors waiting to go through security. We discover that if we walk the length of the terminal to a more distant entrance that there are no lines, but still, we arrive at the gate as first class is boarding.

Once we're on the plane we settle in for the trip home. Nine hours in the air, two hours shorter than heading west, and we arrive at JFK. It's Friday, June 22 at 7am. The students don't want to leave the luggage claim area. They have their bags, but they are stretching out their good byes as long as they can. We have three buses waiting for us to return to HM. Since the morning the group has gotten smaller and smaller with each step. We hardly fill two buses, about half the students we started with. We arrive back at school by 9:30am and by 11am I am asleep on the couch. I know you are advised to stay on local time to fight jet lag, but I can't resist.

Hawai'i trip: Day 7, June 20, 2018

Aloha: the sharing of your knowledge without any expectation of anything in return. This is the definition that the teacher at Kamehameha School shares with us. This is what we came for. To receive knowledge, to process it and then to share newly formed knowledge with others without expectation of anything in return. This is why I am journaling.

Day 7 we get to sleep in. We leave for Swap Meet, a flea market at Aloha Stadium, at 9:30. It's one-stop shopping from 400 vendors and we are sent off the bus with instructions to return within the hour. The students spread out in all directions and to find bathrooms that are located in the stadium entrance. There are stalls filled with souvenirs, clothing, hats, jewelry, soaps, and, of course, food. I spend my time looking at Hawaiian prints for grandchildren and find dresses at a stall run by a woman who tells me that she sews all the garments in her stall herself. I ask for a boy's outfit and she declares, "I only do girls!" I find a booth that sells soaps with loofa and meet up with a few teachers to pool our purchases of kona coffee to get the lowest price of $10 for 7 ozs. Everyone comes back to the bus shopped out, but most say that they are now have all the gifts they need to return home.

Lunch is at Pearl Ridge Mall and then we head for Kamehameha School, our last significant destination on this cultural tour. Our music director is an alumnus and taught at the school, but has not been back in many years. It is an emotional coming home to a school whose mission is to provide education for native Hawaiians. This charitable educational trust that is endowed at the will of Hawaiian princess Bernice Pauahi Bishop (1831-1884), the great-granddaughter and last direct descendant of King Kamehameha I, has three K-12 campuses on the islands of O'ahu, Maui and Hawai'i. It serves enrolls 6,500 students and also runs 30 preschools.

The bus ride up the road leading to the campus is long and steep. We wind our way past the elementary school and a number of large buildings and dorms and arrive at the performing arts building near the top. The vistas are breath-taking and, as we have seen everywhere, the trees are big with expansive crowns that provide shade from the bright sun.

All of the music groups, orchestra, jazz band, steel drum band, winds, and choir will perform today for middle school music students who are at Kamehameha for a summer program. The arrangement is quite formal and our students are escorted to three classrooms where they can set up to play. I have been so impressed with the students' ability to be prepared to perform at each step of the trip. They have taken care of instruments, music stands and music. They adapt to the settings they perform in. And each performance brings new energy to the music.

The summer students do a rotation taking turns to hear each of the three performing groups. Orchestra and steel band are together situated at two ends of the room facing each other with the audience in between. This creates a unique opportunity for the performers to be present for one another. Jazz band and winds also share a room and the choir, all 100 students, have a room with risers for their performance.

The performances are energetic and poignant providing both entertainment and inspiration to younger students who are just imagining what is ahead of them. Two hours pass quickly and before we leave everyone gathers on the lawn by the high school to take a group photo. We decide only to include the music teachers with the students and agree to take a chaperones' photo afterwards. That plan ends up being a group photo taken by a student later in the day at Paradise Cove. Just before hitting the shutter he says the one thing that he knows will get everyone's attention, "Ha: The Breath of Life."

Paradise Cove is located at Ko Lina, an historic site on the leeward coast of O'ahu. The view of the ocean from Paradise Cove is especially beautiful as we approach sunset. Visitors are greeted with a lei, this time made of shells not flowers, and a complimentary maitai, pink for a virgin maitai and yellow with alcohol. There are games on the lawns and a gift shop. Long tables facing a large stage and a buffet of Hawaiian food are the main feature. The 2-hour show begins at 7pm. The students eat and, as the show continues often encouraging visitors to join the performers on stage, they start to spread out nearer to the beach and lawn that surround the dining area. They have had enough tourist entertainment. The setting is quite pleasant and I realize that the appeal of its groomed and manicured landscape is just another version of Hawai'i. The show, no more authentic than PCC, has no pretense, no hidden agenda, and is pure entertainment. It feels less offensive even as it feeds the stereotyped expectations of the audience.

On the bus ride back to the hotel there is good energy and knowing that it is the last night in Hawai'i the seniors are preparing themselves to stay out for the traditional senior night with the music teachers. In the morning the buzz is that there may have been karaoke and some stayed up to see the sunrise.

When I get back to the hotel and have completed bed checks I am so thirsty for a fruit drink. I venture out toward 11pm hoping that the juice place next to the hotel is still open. As I reach the 3rd floor, the swimming pool and Tiki Bar level, I realize that I can get a drink at the bar. I savor a virgin pina colada in the warm Hawai'i air by the pool. 

Hawai'i trip: Day 6, June 19, 2018

I am writing these journal entries after returning home and from notes that I kept during the trip. It’s given me a chance to process information, but also to look up and learn more about some of the things we saw in Hawai’i. It is also helping me to put my photos in order and select the ones that tell the story of the trip. On June 19^th I only had one phrase in my journal: “The sound of the ocean… “ I think it came to mind as I was out in the morning having my Starbucks coffee and walking along the wall that jutted out to where the bodyboarders would stand erect right on the sign that said, “no diving” and then proceed to jump in. Perhaps jumping isn’t the same as diving.

The phrase comes from a song on my CD of Hawaiian songs and I think it's in my head because it's been in the air of the restaurants and stores.

White Sandy Beach of Hawaii

I saw you in my dream
We were walking hand in hand
On a white sandy beach of Hawaii

We were playing in the sun
We were having so much fun
On a white sandy beach of Hawaii

The sound of the ocean
Soothes my restless soul
The sound of the ocean
Rocks me all night long

Those half-hound summer days
Lying there in the sun
On a white sandy beach of Hawaii

The sound of the ocean
Soothes my restless soul
The sound of the ocean
Rocks me all night long

Last night in my dream
I saw your face again
We were there in the sun
On a white sandy beach
On... oooonnnnn of Hawaii

Beyond that one phrase in my journal is an entry from the next day, June 20, 2018. It reads “cultural appropriation. Whose voice is telling the story? Whose story is being told?” That is all I wrote down as I reflected on the experience of the previous day, Day 6.

The day begins at Waimea Valley an area of the north shore that is both an area of conservation and a place to learn about Hawaiian culture. When we arrive there is a misunderstanding between our tour guides and the people at Waimea Valley that we straighten later in the morning, but not before one group is given pick axes and gloves to tackle a project. The guides at Waimea welcome us and then mention that they had heard that we had prepared a chant for protocols. They also express appreciation that we have come to do a service project to help them with their work. This was not a plan we had anticipated. 

The seniors don’t hesitate and we get in place for the chant; seniors in front, faculty, and then all the grades of students in descending order behind us. All the students are quick to do what is expected of them even though they are unsure about doing more outdoor work. We split into three groups and as we are heading down the first path our guide tells us about some of the structures that we are passing. They all belong to a collection of houses (kauhale) that were traditionally used by a high-ranking chief or priest. Most of the hale (houses) are grass-roofed. The guide points out one that is only for men, one for women and one for cooking; only the men cooked. The students are starting to notice that the area is quite buggy and we realize that we hadn’t discussed bug spray for this morning’s trip.

The tour continues and I stop with one other teacher to chat with a woman who is making feather leis. She shows us how she is tying each feather onto a core of rope strands; she says that another teacher had commented that it was very much like tying flies for fishing. She then tells us that it took 150 years to collect the 3 million feathers for the cape that we saw in the museum.

Our walk ends at a waterfall and then we turn back to return to the buses.

Haleiwa State Park provides good shade for our bento box lunches and the beach is a good place for sea turtle sightings. None of them venture onto the shore while we’re there, but we spot many lifting their heads above the water as they ride the waves.

From the park we head to The Polynesian Cultural Center. Most of what we know is that it is a big tourist attraction and that there is advertising for it splashed across the side of some of our buses. When we arrive we each get a ticket that has several stubs including one for general admission, one for a luau dinner and one for a show entitled, HA: Breath of Life, at the end of the evening. The choir will perform at a small gazebo at 6:30pm before the show. 

The Polynesian Cultural Center is a non-profit organization owned by the Mormon Church and all of the students who work there are attending Brigham Young University. The money earned through the operation of the Center is channeled back into operations or scholarships for BYU students. The design of the Center is around villages representing six Pacific Island cultures: Hawai’i, Aotearoa (New Zealand), Fiji, Samoa, Tahiti, and Tonga. The description from the Center’s web site conveys the intention behind the Center: "Visit authentic villages and mingle with natives from six Pacific cultures as they share the majesty of Polynesia through their music, dance, and traditions." I sit through two shows both of which are part stand-up comedy and part cultural trappings. The words “authentic” and “mingle” make me cringe when I think about how we want people to engage with cultural difference and understanding.

Completely out of context it is difficult to find any authenticity in the cultural experience that is shared at PCC. Its only authenticity is the version of culture that the owners choose to present to the public. Their version of Polynesian culture. Many opportunities to learn “native” crafts, play “native” games and eat “native” food define the idea of “mingling with natives.” This, too, devoid of relationships and marketed as culture contribute to the risky game of allowing stereotypes and culture altered by the eye of an outsider to get in between the people who live the culture and those who are observing or engaging with it.

Perhaps most disturbing about PCC is that the layering of religion over or the weaving of religion into the fabric of native cultures creates a new culture. That is what PCC is sharing, not the "authenic" Pacific Island cultures they promote. There is no separating the religion and the cultures and if the intention is to adhere to the religious tenets then certainly it is the cultural offerings that need to adapt. Traditions such as drumming and hula and haka become agents of the religion and entertainment. Their authentic context and purpose are lost as soon as the performers step into their roles at PCC.

So why did we take the students and teachers to this local tourist attraction that claims that it “has entertained more than 37 million visitors by preserving and portraying the spirit, culture and people of Polynesia to the rest of the world”? Aside from the question of who has the right and how one begins to “preserve and portray” a culture, the juxtaposition of authentic engagement with Hawaiian culture against tourist entertainment was jarring and intentional. The trip’s curriculum was planned to build a context of authentic engagement by volunteering at the Hei’ia Fishpond, listening to the local poets, chanting protocols and learning hula and mele from local professors. These along with opportunities to learn about daily life by touring with bus drivers and shopping and eating in local restaurants meant that the students who arrived at PCC were no longer “blank slate tourists,” but culturally sensitive and informed visitors. To the extent that the experiences leading up to the day we visited PCC had begun to transform the students’ understanding of Hawaiian culture meant that they had the opportunity to experience PCC through those eyes, not the eyes of the Day 1 student.

After several hours in the villages, we head to the luau dinner and show. We receive a traditional lei greeting at the door by a group of women dressed in Polynesian style long dresses. They are smiling and pleasant and anxious to get us seated. I am directed to a table with HM teachers that is at the edge of the seating and end up with my back to the entry path for the performers, to the right of the stage. Throughout the meal there is the pounding of feet and sounds of costumes as performers run on and off the stage. I glance to my right to see some of the show, but mostly listen to the music and enjoy the food. Two teachers have decided to take the tram ride up to tour the church and learn more about this campus that houses the church, BYU and PCC. They have only discovered the connection to the Mormon Church while in the Center and are excited to know more.

At 6:30pm the choir performs at a small gazebo near the Pacific Theater. It is a gift to anyone who stops and listens. Amidst all the fanfare of entertainment and tourism it is simple and sincere. The PCC show begins at 7:30pm and runs about an hour-and-a-half. It, too, like the stage performances in the villages, is a story told by the Mormon Church using Island people and cultural trappings to tell and enhance the story. A strange mix that neither conveys deep religious belief nor furthers an appreciation for Island cultures. The fire dancers who twirl batons lit at both ends with fire are quite spectacular, but even they reach the ridiculous when they proceed to light a mat on fire and extinguish it by sitting on the fire. There is some discussion and laughter on the bus back to the hotel about asbestos or fireproof underwear.

We arrive back at the hotel around 10:30 and do an immediate bed check to end a mentally exhausting day.

Hawai'i trip, Day 5, June 18, 2018

Today is the visit to the He'eia fishpond (loko i'a) that is the heart of this trip to Hawai'i. We have already learned in our cultural preparation workshop that this is an extraordinary opportunity to volunteer in an aquaculture project that has a long history. The organization has called in all its volunteers to allow all of our students to visit at one time. We will be given a tour and assigned to tasks in small groups of about 20 students each. The sun is beating down and we have reminded the students that this is the day to use environmentally safe sunscreen and to bring water bottles.

We get off the bus and many of us head for the bathrooms. The line is long. We consider invading the men's room once they are finished, but are warned that we just might not want to do that. If the men, themselves, are questioning the condition of the bathroom that is a true warning. We continue to wait. There are several adults and several students waiting when a student is sent up from the entrance to the fishpond to tell us that it's OK, but they are about to chant the protocol to enter. This is a difficult moment to miss.

When we finally get down to the entrance everyone is in one large circle. We find spaces to enter the circle and discover that the group has been received on the first attempt to chant. The director is relieved and pleased. He has warned us that if there is no response to a chant that you are expected to chant again. Several attempts could result in not being received at all. We were prepared that the trip could end at the entrance were the chant not delivered in the most authentic way. The students are amazing in their ability to learn and understand the depth of this gift they've been given; the opportunity to chant.

We quickly separate into smaller groups and start our tour around the fishpond. The wall, built of stone and coral, creates  a barrier for the fish. Along the way we stop to look at the construction of the gates (mākāhā), all bound together with natural ties, not nails. The gates are used to regulate the movement of the fish into and out of the fishpond based on the direction of the tides. The guide tells us that there is a deep belief in observation; observing the natural environment and the behavior of  living things to understand the response required from humans and the questions that need to be asked. She talks to us about fish that were only served to royalty or on special occasions. She talks about the mistake they made introducing the mangrove tree into the fishpond thinking it would solve a problem, but instead became an invasive barrier. They are in the process of removing the trees to complete the wall around the pond. The guide said it will take another 10 years to complete this project. The last project the students participate in is with the mangrove trees.

The wall feels very solid under your feet though the guide mentions that the large outer rocks are only piled up; there is nothing holding them in place so that when you use them as footholds you must be aware that they can shift. Our first task is to pull small mangrove trees that are starting to sprout from the muddy edge of the fishpond along the wall. We step down from the wall into the water and all discover that the mud is slimy and not easy to walk on; the suction is strong in some places. I pick a few trees and snap the trunk, throwing it back into the water. as instructed. Before I realize it I've taken a step forward and ended up sitting in the mud. With a helping hand I stood back up and continued on not realizing just how much mud would stay on my clothes.

After a stretch of clearing trees the guide suggests we step down off the wall on the ocean side and wash off. She says it will feel good to clean up a bit. I'm hesitant to step down a slightly higher section of wall, unsure of how I will get back up. Again, an offer of help convinces me to wash off and, in fact, it is very refreshing. We get ready to return to the entrance where we started and along the way pick up bags of seaweed that another group has collected. The volunteer tasks are clearly defined and efficient.

There are huts along the fishpond wall that are for the workers to find shade. They roofs are made of palm tree leaves similar to the ones I saw along the highway. They are heavily pleated.

At the entrance to the fishpond there are large boulders that need to be moved and the students are asked to roll them across a shallow inlet of water nearer to the wall. Most are too heavy for one person to lift though there are several successful attempts to singularly lift and carry rocks to the other side of the inlet. The better option is for teams of students to work together and roll the rocks. The challenge is not just the weight and sometimes awkward shape of the rocks, but also the coordination of the work. Thankfully, there is only one accident that ends up with a bruised toe. When our time is done the volunteers tell us that the group has completed about three weeks of work in the few hours. They are very grateful.

The afternoon plan is to go to Windward Mall food court for lunch and then to the beach at Aina Moana Park. Three life guards meet us at the beach and the students are free to swim after a quick orientation from one of the guards. They will be floating out in the water on boards and have brought along inflatable rafts for the students to share. The students have waited five days to get into the ocean and they are excited. This particular beach is protected from the open ocean by a low wall and the swimming area is large, but calm. Many students head into the water and stay out much of the afternoon. There is a large park with shade trees and most of the adults settle in under the trees. It's a wonderfully relaxing counterpoint to the morning work at the fishpond.

A bento box dinner is delivered to the beach at about 6:30pm to end the day at the beach. So far, we are only watching out for one bruised toe and sun burn. We are grateful for our two trained first aid faculty who are lugging around heavy backpacks to respond to any emergency. They are the constant reminder that sunscreen and hydration are our best friends on this trip.

We make a brief stop at the hotel and walk to the community center to hear two poets. This is the chance to hear voices of contemporary Hawaiian culture. Tui Scanlan and  Jamaica Osario take turns sharing poems and capture the attention of the students. Jamaica Osario speaks her geneology, a poem she wrote to deliver at the White House. She says that she's asked if she has a poem that won't criticize America; she says she has to write a new poem for this occasion. She can also be seen on TEDxManoa where she shares poetry and reveals the essence of her practice. These performances at the community center are among the highlights of the trip.
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 Tui Scanlan

  Jamaica Osario

Hawai'i trip, Day 4, June 17, 2018

It’s an early morning start and by 7:30am we have all the students on the buses to go to Central Union Church for a Sunday service. The orchestra is scheduled to play a prelude before the service and the choir will sing during the service. The church sits on the corner of Punahou and South Beretania Streets. Coming from Waikiki it is mauka (toward the mountains). We have been told by the bus driver that in Hawai’i directions are usually given in relation to the mountains (mauka) or the ocean (makai).

The church is very stately with a traditional New England design. The side walls are a series of doors that can be opened to allow the breeze to blow through the church. One teacher described it as “an open air church.” You can step directly onto the surrounding lawns from these doors and there is also a small courtyard on one side. After the service we are served fruit and drinks outside. It’s another beautiful sunny day. The congregation is warm and welcoming. They are excited to meet the students.

After a quick stop at the hotel we are off to lunch at the Ala Moana Center. This massive mall, containing upscale stores and restaurants, is the largest open-air shopping center in the world. It has over 350 shops and more than 100 restaurants. It also contains Shirokiya Japan Village Walk, a space designed to give the feel of a traditional Japanese village with food, entertainment and cultural features. I have my first Hawaiian poke bowl at lunch with a group of teachers and then head out to meet students at the bus so they can pick up their instruments for an afternoon performance. They are scheduled to play twice on a stage in the lower level of the shopping center. There is bench seating on the level above looking down over the stage and there are also seats directly in front of the stage. Most fill up as shoppers anticipate the performance.

On my way to the bus I meet up with some students and one is eating a green tea shaved ice with red beans. He is so excited that he says to me, “You should have some. It’s sooo good!” He points to the counter next to where I’m standing and it is irresistible. I order a small green tea shaved ice with red beans and when it arrives it is quite large. Two adults from our group are sitting behind the students and ask me to join them at their table. I sit and devour my shaved ice. It is truly delicious and the surprise is a soft ice cream in the center of the mound of shaved ice. It satisfies so many desires: cold, sweet, savory, creamy, and tasty.

As I arrive at the stage I notice immediately that Molly from the senior residence is sitting on a bench directly across from the center of the stage. She sees me and comes to say “hi” and tells me that she is saving a seat for me. She has asked her niece to drop her off so that she can hear the orchestra again. Though the sign says our steel band will also play it’s a mistake and I have to tell her that they are not coming to this location. They are performing at the Royal Hawaiian Shopping Center. I mention that our groups have all spread out for these afternoon performances and that the choir is singing at St. Andrew’s. She knows the church and considers if she will have time to get home and have her niece pick her up to take her to hear the choir. Molly is so enthusiastic to hear the students that she sits back down and starts telling everyone around her that they will really enjoy hearing this music. It’s while we are waiting for the music to start that she tells me all about her family. 

The winds play first and the orchestra follows. There’s not enough time in the hour scheduled for the Sinfonietta to play, but the students adjust without complaint. They have an hour between the first and second performances and so they take off to do more shopping. Each time the group comes back it seems there are more and more Hawaiian shirts in the mix. One of the students in my chaperone group has purchased a shirt with a lovely pink Hawaiian design. I compliment him and another student in our group says that she advised him. “I’m good at picking out shirts for people. You should let me pick one out for you.”

This is the night that we are going to meet up with the choir for dinner. We are all going to the Pagoda, a second time for the instrumentalists. This time they seat us in a large banquet room on the top floor. It feels like a wedding or bar mitzvah with large round tables and a stage toward the front of the room. The students spread out and find friends. The food is set out on a buffet and there is a coconut jelled dessert (haupia) with fresh pineapple.

Dinner ends and we’ve decided that it’s too late to follow the original plan of bringing the students back to the community center. They are looking tired and some are anxious to get some sleep. They are asking for earlier bed times. An announcement is made that the boys should get up and head to the buses that are parked outside near the restaurant. The girls are asked to stay and gather closer to the stage. There is a need to discuss the next day’s trip to the fish pond with the girls because there is something that the volunteers at the fish pond want the students to know; that if a woman has her period that she should not enter the water at the fish pond. There is concern about blood getting into the water, but also concern about sharks who might pick up the scent.

The adults try to communicate this information to the girls, but their concern that the girls will feel like they are being kept from the full experience that everyone else will have overrides their ability to simply state the reality of the situation. After several attempts the girls are getting the message and help to fill in the blanks. There is laughter and aha moments among the girls as they patiently sympathize with the adults who stand in front of them. It is, after all, a message that they had intended to have the female coach deliver if she had been at dinner. Unfortunately, she was at the hotel with a student who was ill.

We gather the girls up to head to the buses and discover that the boys have been sitting and waiting. Of course their curiosity was peaked and to dispel rumors, some had to be told the reason for the conversation with the girls alone. One awkward conversation triggering an even more awkward conversation.

Each night the first bed check is done by the seniors. They go room to room and see that everyone is OK. It’s quite sweet as they ask how everyone is doing, if there are any questions or needs; how the students are feeling. Thirty minutes after that the adults do a final check to make sure everyone is in the room assigned to them. There is continuing discussion as to what constitutes an adequate bed check and the only rule everyone seems to agree on is that the adult is not to set foot in the room. Students oblige the request to account for each and every person assigned to the room by hanging off the foot of the bed and waving toward the door, peaking around the corner to show their face, but not their full bodies or shouting out from the bathroom.

During one bed check some students mention that they are sure there are ghosts in their room. They have even woken during the night to knocking on their door, but when they open it no one is there. It does make me wonder what they would do if someone were there. Considering the sounds coming from that room, I expect it might involve screaming! We assure them that the guard sitting at the end of the hallway will certainly see anyone who comes down the hall during the night. They are surprised to know we have a security guard. Even so, the next morning they report hearing sounds in the night. We never investigate further.

Hawai'i Trip, Day 3, June 16, 2018

The morning is taken up with a visit to Sea Life Park. Everyone recognizes the name because it was the setting for the movie 50 First Dates with Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore. There aren’t many people at the park and the open-air amphitheater where the dolphin show will take place is empty when we get there. We fill it up. The show is entertaining though I expect there are students wondering if this is kind to animals; making them do tricks and behave like humans for our entertainment. We have at least an hour to walk around after the show and the bird cage attracts many students. The park provides you with small sticks of seeds to feed to the birds and to encourage them to sit on the stick while eating. They are a beautiful assortment of blues, whites, and rainbow colors. The sound is deafening and not a few people come out after being pooped on by a bird. No surprise in a busy cage of birds!

The orchestra students leave the park first at 10:45am to get lunch at the food court in Windward Mall. This time I find dumplings and try two kinds – plain and chili pepper hot. We then head to One Kalakaua Senior Living for a 1pm performance for the senior residents, arriving at about 12:45pm. Already, many residents have found seats and are anticipating the concert. The news has spread that the students have come from the best high school in the country and all the way from New York on the mainland. The ladies, in particular, are very impressed. One asks how come our school has so many Asian students. She says the group looks like it is from a local Hawaiian school. I'm not sure if there's disappointment in her voice or reassurance that there are Asian students everywhere in the country.

This is the students’ first performance in Hawai’i and they tune up and jump in without any hesitation. You might not even know they hadn't rehearsed in many days. The music, as always, is compelling and beautiful. As we wait to start I meet a few women. A woman named Molly tells me that she worked for a year at the Brooklyn Public Library. She is very chatty and after the concert comes over to tell me how much she has enjoyed hearing the students. She asks if they are planning to play anywhere else and I mention the next day’s performance at a local mall. She says she will come hear them again. She also wants to hear our steel drum band.    

The apartments at One Kalakaua Senior Living are either rented or purchased. As Molly tells me, “You know, Chinese like to own things so they can pass them on. My apartment is going to my niece.” She is the eldest of eight children, never married, and she refers to her niece often. The majority of the residents at the performance are Asian. It feels so familiar, the senior home and the people. A man asks about the financing of the trip. He can’t get over the cost of bringing so many students from NYC to Hawai’i. It is easy to see him calculating the price in his head.

After leaving the senior residence we make a quick stop at the hotel and then walk to the community center. Two professors that Tim knows lead us in a workshop on Hawai’ian hula and mele. The hula we learn is while sitting down (hula noho) and holding river stones (ili ili) in each hand to create a clacking sound. Each line of the mele is sung first in melody and then again in harmony.

The fluidity of the movements and the lilting quality of the music combine to draw you into the story. The professor keeps reminding us to smile, not an easy thing to do while concentrating on movements, words and music!

Dinner is at Beijing Waikiki, a more formal Chinese restaurant. We have a whole section of the restaurant and the meal is served over several courses on a lazy susan. It is all delicious even though the students seem to find only a few dishes they like. Of particular note is a platter of chicken and mu er (tree ears). The squid is also very good. The night before the choir had eaten at this restaurant and there were no provisions made for vegetarians. When we arrive one table has a piece of paper on it that says, “Vegetarian.” It is a nice effort even though it turns out that the table receives all of the meat dishes and only one completely vegetarian dish of stir fried vegetables. One teacher goes out to get a few students French Fries because they say there is nothing that they like to eat.

Bed check is at 10:30pm.