Ho'okahi, Wale No

This will work best if you listen to this music while reading this entry. 

I’m in Hawaii, but all by myself.

Poor me.

Got here Saturday afternoon, picked up at the airport by some good friends who’ve lived here since their 2000 wedding in Leavenworth. I’ve not seen them since.

That’s too long.

An usher at our wedding, she’s a Kansas farm girl and K-Stater whom I’ve known for 25 years.

Here, she’s in her professional element. She’s a food/culinary type and working on a host of forward-leaning, cutting edge projects, including Hawaiian farmers’ markets.

He’s a Wisconsin native, career Army. Now involved in some private sector consultant gig that takes them all over the Pacific Rim.

He could tell me more, but then he’d hafta kill me.

They left today for their quarterly visit to her father back in Kansas.

The American Farm Bureau convention wrapped up Tuesday afternoon and 5-thousand of my closest farmer and rancher friends went back home to their farms and ranches.

There’s still a handful left. They’re easy to spot. I suppose I could introduce myself and wait for the invitation to dinner. But that’s not me.

Coincidentally, I’m reading Laura Hillenbrand’s ‘Unbroken,’ a WWII story of survival, resilience and redemption. It takes place mostly right here on Oahu.

Started Peter Rock’s ‘My Abandonment’ on the way over and finished shortly after arrival.

Rock’s like Cormac McCarthy. Only better.

Rented a car today and motored around Oahu. Coulda got a Mustang convertible (they’re thick here) but opted for a Mazda5.

Matson tooling around the island in a minivan. With five empty seats.


The scenery on the north shore is stunning and everything you’ve ever heard about Hawaiian rainbows is true.

Also saw anti-eminent domain signs, “Keep Rural Oahu Rural.” My friends gave me the headline version over dinner Saturday night. I’d like to learn more.

Walking alone along Waikiki Beach last night at sunset, I called my son to share it with him. One day he’ll come here. It’d be fun to do it as couples.

Don’t cry for me. Life’s all about choices.

My wife takes her professional responsibilities seriously and didn’t feel like she could be gone during the first week of the legislative session. Her work ethic and sense of duty are among the many reasons I’m ape-shit-banana-cupcakes over her.

I brought my running togs, but blisters on my feet have kept that from happening.

It’s about 7 p.m. here, which means it’s 11 back home. Bedtime in the Great Plains. I’ve got the door to the lanai wide open and I can hear the sounds of a luau 24 floors below and one hotel over.

One more day here, Thursday. I intend to spend it on the beach, probably finishing Hillenbrand.

This may be paradise, but it’s not God’s country.

There’s no place like home.