HD1983HAW

I picked up the phone, called Mary, and asked her if she'd want to go to Hawaii. There was a long pause followed by, well yes! I said, I've just been told to get out of here, if I don't take the vacation time I have coming I'll loose it. By then the shock was over and her voice was full of enthusiasm.

The next morning we signed up for an eight day seven night three island tour; Oahu, Maui, and Hawaii. Room plus transportation came to $1553.00. Day one began two days later.

DAY ONE

We felt ourselves pushed back into our seats as the DC-10, with 250 plus passengers on board, accelerated upward. Two GE engines, cantilevered forward and below the swept wings, sucked air into their compressors; supplying oxygen to a continuous stream of fuel. The sustained combustion sent high temperature gasses to the turbine blades, driving them to a high pitched whine -- to suck in more air. The super hot gasses through the hot turbine blades reached sonic velocity, before expanding to the exit, releasing its energy as thrust. The once theoretical Brayton cycle had finally come of age. It reliably delivered thrust for the five hour flight at 500 mph 37,000 feet above our water covered segment of the Earth below.

What a change from propellers, driven by reciprocating mechanisms, pulled an airframe through lower denser air strata. Many passengers would never know those vibrations and sounds that first lifted man above the domain of birds. Turbine engines had not come easy. P-38 pilots used the first turbines to harnessing exhaust gas to compress air for their V-12 reciprocating engines. The pilots head was in the same plain as the failure prone turbine blades -- protected only by a stubby piece of nickel steel plate protruding into the slip stream.

After other passengers had long since settled in for the flight, the sights and sounds of the aircraft stimulated my thoughts. Engineers cannot escape the images and awareness their training instills, what is boring to many seems a marvelous creation to us few – the work of many human minds. It's seems a pity others do not see the beauty of the mechanisms buried inside. Each delivering more horsepower, at 37,000 feet, than a huge railroad steam engine lugging laden cars coast to coast.

The warm winds were evident in the Honolulu terminal. Mary and I suddenly found ourselves presented with Leis. A native girl and boy placed arms about us saying smile while aiming us at a camera! Mary’s smile was forced, she had just discovered she'd lost her camera!

Looked out from our ninth story window, facing the ocean from the SheritanWaikiki, we felt naked without a camera to capture the view. We returned to the main floor and bought a camera for her and a Hawaiian shirt for me. Having made our first contribution to the islands tourist trade we proceeded across the street joining the crowd, migrating and milling from shop to shop. During an excellent dinner, seated where we could watch the passing parade, we listened to a band at the Royal Hawaiian center. It was Aloha week with special festivities.

Fatigue forced us to retire, just pasted nine their time, but passed midnight ours – a long time after our early start.

DAY TWO

I was awaken by the sore muscles in my upper legs, buttox, and lower back; a condition that was to endure, the price of physical inactivity.

I went to look out the window, it is 6:00 am. The sun is beginning to rise on the other side of the island. Scattered clouds reflect the suns early rays. To the left Diamond Head rises majestically, as it has since man first cast eyes upon these shores. Lights are still on, along the shore road and the high rise buildings along Waikiki beach. The sounds of waves, nine stories below, are as recurrent as eternity. They randomly roll onto the beach sand. When out of sync, the outflow opposes the inflow leaving the sand bare. The sand lightens as water drains out and darkens when re-saturated by the next incoming wave.

A few small craft propelled, by sail, rock like anchored buoys. One large ship is visible on the horizon. From the silhouette it looks like an empty tanker, buoyed above the water but with a structure at one end only.

Sounds of large jet aircraft continued through the night. During late afternoon there had been sounds and sights of many small prop jobs commuting with the other islands, their sounds reminders of a Dec 7^th.

The tone of the viewscape has now changed from a dark blue black with reflected sun rays from clouds, to a pale blue. The sky goes from dark blue above to light blue among scattered clouds just above the horizon. Far out the ocean has a darker blue and a mildly choppy surface. This contrasts with the near sea which is quite smooth except for incoming rows of low waves. Some five percent of the waves break. Last night breaking waves were illuminated by their own phosphorescence.

There is always the sound of the wind, after all this 31 story structure is the first obstacle in thousands of miles to the west. Once over the hills behind, the winds driven eastward by the spin of the Earth will see no obstacles for the next 2347 miles, where they reach the shores of southern California.

Last night the smogless sky revealed the abundant field of stars, twinkling like diamonds on a black velvet canopy.

As I've written, a lone surfer has made his way out and is now in position to catch a small wave as they form. He began at waters edge at dawn. No one else is visibly about, though there are occasional plumbing sounds as bladders are emptied to relieve the nights accumulation.

Cleaning buckets are now making sounds, the man made pool area below is being prepared for another invasion of occupants from the rooms above.

It seems odd looking down on, rather than up at, tall palm trees; or have a beautifully graceful white pidgin land on, and walk about, the small private balcony - tame and self assured - looking for a handout.

The sunlight has just now reached over the hills and illuminated the tops of palm trees along the beach road. The hotel lights are now out, the sounds of gulls can be heard. The ship on the horizon is gone. The lone surfer still awaits a new wave. The magic of the early dawn is over -- the new day is here -- homo sapiens will soon be emerging from the hotel, like bees from a hive, to forage for sights, food and novelties.

The beauty seems as something to be shared, it motivates a even a would be writer to try.

The breakfast, across the street from the Sheriton-Waikiki in the Royal Hawaiian center, was reasonably priced, only slightly higher than at home. We had Coconut syrup on our pancakes.

We walked along open areas, lush with plants and flowers fresh, still dripping with moisture from an automatic sprinkler systems. We found ourselves looking across the street at an open area between two conventional tall buildings. An overhead sign said, International Trade Center. We passed under the sign and were soon under a huge Banyon tree with little shops randomly occupying every available space. The little shops contained a dazzling assortment of jewelry with the tree serving as a unique centerpiece. The tree was most unusual. Its limbs rose high above providing a canopy for the area. It’s trunk looked like roots that elevated the tree. We were subsequently told it is the nature of this tree to send down roots from its lower branches. Where these roots take root they become another trunk to the same tree. Such trees can live long lives and dominate an area.

Shop keepers were just arriving opening tray after tray of jewelry items, readying them for display. It was reminiscent of Farmers Market in LA, except it was more informal. Every where there were attractive women sorting their wares. One smiled and said hello as she went by, I wondered where they all came from? Later I saw the girl that had said hello opening another stand. I said, I'm curious, are all these Hawaiian people? She said; no, Korea, I just come from Korea this year, wonderful, don't you think?

We made purchases and began working our way back looking as we went. I admired a necklace and earring set. The lady became more and more insistent that she make the sale. The price was initially stated as $26.00 and was progressively dropped as I'd start to leave. Then with a pleading look she said $16.00 for $26.00 item, first sale of the day, very good buy! Thus Mary received another adornment, it was time to get out of there before spending more!

Midmorning we attended a breakfast put on by the tour group through whom we purchased our tickets. It turned out to be a means of gathering us tourists for a sales pitch selling tickets to shows and tours about the island. It was held at Hawaiian Gardens, a place where entertainer Don Ho puts on nightly shows. He's a controversial figure; married 9 times, with 18 kids and a recently rehabilitated alcoholic. We enjoyed a film clip of flying low over the islands, an available tour for $200.00 each.

We hurried to get tickets for a tour leaving in little more than and hour for the Polynesian Culture Center. We also purchased the picture taken at the airport with the string of flowers about our neck. As we exited we were given leis made of small seeds from bushes on the islands.

We decided to walk rather than ride back and passed by Fort De Russey now a museum. In front were old tanks of US and Japanese origin of the early WWII period. Inside were conventional displays of memorabilia plus photos of Hawaiian participants.

Included were photos of old Coast Artillery guns installed as part of a fort. They were a mechanical disappearing type typical of the WWI era. This design had been replaced with a pneumatic/ hydraulic mechanism called the Barbett mount. These brought to mind photos in Coast Artillery text, a required ROTC subject for engineering students.

I was curious, saw a man in the museum office, stepped in and and asked if this had indeed been a Coast Artillery installation? He said yes. I asked, where were the guns? On the roof, he said. I asked, were they of the old mechanical type shown in the photos? He said yes. I asked, did they ever upgrade them to Barbett mounts? He smiled and said; no, they were stripped off, everything was removed from the roof in 1946. My use of the artillery term had stimulated a more elaborate response, he continued -- they had been 14 inch guns. (This had been the maximum coast artillery size of that period with 16 inch on battleships where the water would help absorb the recoil.) He gave me an inquiring look as if to ask if I had been in the Coast Artillery? Anticipating his question I smiled and said; I was Air Force and thanked him. As I turned and left the gun sighting problems of ROTC days drifted back through my mind; the old fort coming to life with visions of soldiers going through practice routines and the gunnery officer correcting for the wear of the gun, the temperature of the powder and the metrology report of atmospheric conditions the projectile would encounter - all obsoleted by homing missiles. Mary said we'd better hurry if we were to catch the bus. Reminiscent thoughts were evaporated by the needs of the moment.

The Polynesian Culture Center is located on the north east coast of Oahu. o get there by car or bus from Honolulu you need to take freeway H-1 along the inland side of Honolulu then cut north east on Likelike (pronounce leakleak) highway 63. Likelike highway climbs, cuts through a tunnel and drops to Kaneone bay on the east side. Our bus then proceeded north along a two lane coastal road. To the left are tall mountains wet with rain from clouds shrouding their profiles. To the right, much of the time only two to four feet lower, was the ocean. There were no breaking waves, the water was shallow over an expansive coral reef.

The swimmer is always vulnerable to a festering cut from the coral -- it inhibits the fun of an excursion. The chemical residue lingers, bacterial disinfectants are not a cure -- the body must excrete the chemicals via the festering waste, often leaving a scar.

The road gently goes up and down, winds and turns. It’s mostly open near homes and businesses but an avenue through lush vegetation of many varieties most of the way. Banana trees grow like sunflowers in Kansas.

Much of the land is leased and not owned. The do-it-yourself type homes rest on stone or brick then are lifted on wooden stilts ranging from a customary foot to several feet high. A cleaned slope of recent preparation is called the Valley of the Temples. Like the Egyptian Valley of the kings it is a mortuary/cemetery; a place for peoples of diverse genetic, cultural and religious heritage to bury their dead. Pastures on the mountain foothills is grazed by cattle and horses, their grazing clears the terrain, visible from the road, through vegetation covered fence rows.

Then suddenly you are there, on the left is a parking lot, behind a fenced area with steep sloping thatch covered roofs, some in need of repair. Once inside, the area was revealed to be well maintained and immaculately clean, the faded worn thatching on the roofs revealed the loss of craftsmen practicing a disappearing art. The center had been opened in 1963.

The Polynesian Culture Center is about two football fields wide and three long with a man made canal winding through the middle simulating a river. Scattered about are village areas for the various Polynesian and Melanesian cultures as: Tonga, Tahiti, Marquesas, Hawaii, Fiji, Aotearoa, and Samoa. The area also includes a large gift shop with the usual items for tourists plus native crafts produced at the center. There is a large restaurant that served an excellent buffet dinner, all you could eat. The evening finally was held in a large pavilion especially designed for the presentation of shows depicting the south seas cultures.

We arrived in time to catch the Pageant of the Canoes. Each native group dressed in the finery of their culture emerge from under a bridge to a pond area lined with visitors. They put on a show before proceeding down the canal to emerge from the next bridge for the next crowd. There were some six such areas.

The boats were structured the same but painted differently. There were two dugout canoes with a raised platform between. Typically there were six girls and six boys. one boy placed himself at the back and with a pole maneuvered the double canoe.

When they came into view they stood poised in festive attire as kings, queens, ladies and warriors. Some canoes did not have a full complement of their culture present. They were all college students working their way through the adjacent Brigham Young University-Hawaii by performing at the center. Via their repeated performances several times a day six days a week they had become very professional.

The center was initiated and is operated by the Mormon church as a non-profit adjunct to the college. The Center is very well run and provides a timely means of preserving some of the heritage of these islanders, without the likes of which it would probably disappear. It is certainly a credit to the Mormon Church.

Loud speakers emitted background music of drums plus special wooden instruments providing the rhythmical beat to which the dancers responded. The boys dances included stomping, manipulating spears in warlike stances and the issuance of guttural sounds to frighten illusionary opponents. Their fun dancing included leg waving and stomping interspersed with various patterns an rhythms. Beating their arms, chests and legs with their hands sustaining a beat, emanating from each dancer. The girls in contrast were very graceful in their motions, generally quite pretty, and all highly skilled at some form of the hula. Some were very skilled at manipulating a white fuzzy ball at the end of a three foot long string. These were twirled singly, in pairs, together, in opposite directions with one hand, etc. Some were skilled in manipulating two foot long sticks which were; struck, juggled and exchanged rhythmically in a manner requiring considerable skill and concentration. The Tahitian girls specialized in rapid sustained hula, as the drums beat faster and faster. The real test of skill was to keep up with the beat and sustain the rapid wide amplitude swaying of the hips without moving the shoulders or head. These shapely girls kept in shape by performing this dance as part of shows many times a day, six days a week.

It was claimed that only persons from the specific island group were allowed to perform as members of that group. Most appeared to be truly native of their island. Those from Fiji were more black than brown. In most groups there were those obviously of mixed parentage; their light skin and blond hair in contrast with their companions, but their dancing exhibited the same superb quality.

The persons scattered about the village areas were mostly older women occupied at crafts such as weaving or sewing. It was obvious however that interest by the natives and tourists was waning on such skills. There were few younger tourists, now that school had started, who would normally be interested in camping and crafts.

The young lady introducing each of the canoes asked those present to call out when she named their state. It was soon apparent that 50% of the states were represented plus persons from every continent with a large number of persons from Japan.

The buffet dinner, serving continuously from 4:00 to 6:30 pm was excellent. Beef, pork, chicken, fish -- vegetables -- fruit and naturally, generous chunks of fresh pineapple. While eating a marching band paraded past then returned to a band stand.

We joined others to listen and watch the concert. I found myself studying each face recognizing many as being the dancers on the canoes. They were no longer natives but next door school kids in the band playing a broad selection of band numbers with no trace of Polynesia, purely western culture. Anyone having played in a band could readily relate to how they felt, their personalities emerged. They obviously enjoyed it, most were very good, a quality only acquired from playing for several years. I found myself vigorously applauding. It was as if I was a kid again in my home town pulling a note to the proper pitch with my lip, reading and fingering the notes, pleased that the adult audience appreciated the presentation. The black band instructors behavior was the same but he certainly didn't look like our band instructor Bert Hostinski. Bert had become a close friend, he was a mathematician by training, loved by the students, and a master at designing marching band routines. He used to insist that I stay at his place the night before we'd get up early to drive to a contest, for fear held over sleep. He had insisted that I drum major for marching band contests -- these kids reawakened many a memory of adventuresome fun times.

The pavilion was massive with a fixed stage setting. At the back of the stage were simulated mountains exposed to the stars above and real mountains in the sky line behind.

When the show began the house lights went out, stage lights on and twin volcanoes erupted at the back of the stage. There were sound effect with illuminated water shooting skyward to simulate lava. Then as the eruption subsided little columns of water rose about the semicircular periphery of the stage to a height of about four feet then settled down as the actors appeared.

The show lasted approximately 1 1/2 hours. Each cultural groups heritage, in terms of dance, dress, song, and pageantry was presented. They had to have been the product of years of development as they were very well done.

Fluorescent cloths and lighting were used effectively. Persons occupied platforms above and on each side of the main stage. These were very variously used during a baton dance. Five foot long poles were ignited and twirled like a drum-majors baton. These were thrown flaming at one end to other actors on the elevated wings. These boys would light another and throw it to another until there were some dozen batons twirling with pavilion lights out. A single twirler put on a fantastic display of skill.

Each of the numbers was superb, ranging from soloist singers to a stage full. The performers all young students took obvious pride in what they did and were deserving of the highest compliments for their achievements.

DAY THREE

Day three got off to a slow start. We walked about the shops along Kalakaua Ave, had a late breakfast and made arrangements for a tour to Pearl Harbor. The Polynesian Cultural Center tour had cost $50.00 ea for the bus, food and entertainment. The Pearl Harbor, Honolulu, Punch Bowl tour came to $35.00 for both of us. It was well worth it because of our guide, David, an easy going articulate young man genuinely interested in what there was for us to see.

Passengers were gathered from the Waikiki hotels, then the driver drove toward Pearl Harbor via Kalakaua and Ala Moana Ave. which took us passed Fisherman’s wharf, the Aloa Tower, Honolulu Harbor and the Dole company water tower painted to look like a giant pineapple. The Aloha Tower and adjacent docks were common settings for pre WWII movies of passengers boarding and disembarking from Matson steamship line’s luxury ocean liners. That was a romantic era made popular by travel folders, and sheet music like Blue Hawaii adorned with artists version of beautiful island ladies welcoming tourists to the paradise islands. Abruptly, during WW II, soldiers in transit found them selves in these settings without tourists. We turned in at the Pearl Harbor museum. We were issued tickets with numbers, the number was your tour group. We looked about the museum awaiting our turn.

The museum included artifacts, maps, photos, old newspapers and memorabilia. It was well laid out and would readily convey to anyone not knowing the events of Dec 7, 1941. Approximately 1/3 of those present were Japanese. I found myself observing the manner in which two Japanese men with graying hair behaved. I have no idea what they did during that war but from their bearing, attitude and behavior I know they had served in the military during that period. I was wishing there was an excuse to speak with them.

Our number was called and we entered an auditorium for the showing of a 20 minute movie. It showed the construction and launching of the battleship Arizona in 1916. It also showed the circumstances leading US and Japan to conflict, the negotiation preceding the attack and the attack itself. Much of the film had been provided by the Japanese, film taken from planes making the attack. It concluded by showing the recovery and the Japanese signing the surrender agreement.

I thought the subject matter, pregnant with strong emotions, even with the passage of time, for those who had experienced personal losses, it was handled very well. A young park ranger gave a brief introduction, indicating the film would simply tell it like it was; and it did. The point was made that it was not just a sight for tourists but actually the tomb for 1700 some persons that had been killed instantly and never removed. Everyone was quiet, no one spoke. After the film the ranger provided information on what had really caused the ship to sink and why no attempt was ever made to salvage her as they had most of the others. The Arizona had been hit by a torpedo plus some four aerial bombs through the deck. The armor plating, sides and deck, was 14 inches of steel. The bombs were designed to penetrate the deck. They hit an area where aviation fuel plus explosives were stored. The resultant release of energy in the confines of the vessels thick walls built tremendous pressure. The explosion crushed personnel inside killing them immediately, lifting the ship out of the water as the front end was blown apart.

Navy personnel, two Waves in dress uniform, operated the boat that took each group to a memorial structure built above the Arizona, at the far side was a marble wall listing those entombed below. One could see the rusting decks two feet below. Some rusting remnants of the removed superstructure remained above the surface. The exposed riveted structure revealed the technology of the ships structure. Even by WWII standards she was obsolete as were many of her sister ships. The repair of the ships moored along Battleship Row that morning had been extensive, they were significantly upgraded as well as just repaired. of basic importance had been the development of continuous seam thick plate arc welding, something I was taught in school. This made rapid upgrade achievable. Time had been of essence, no amount of money or effort could replace the time it took to make up for not being prepared.

During the boat ride and our return my thought commutated from the event itself and the two Japanese, the old soldiers. My final view of them was their waiting with their wives for the transit system bus. Still talking quietly to each other, occasionally pointing as they talked and often just gazing at their feet as the other spoke. I could not help but feel their thoughts included personal experiences reawaken by the tour. They had not been a part of a tour and I had the feeling they had conserved resources to make the trip.

I had become aware that none of the Japanese would really look us straight in the eye. They gave no indication of feeling inhibited about being there. The attack had been a tremendous technical success but it had also wrought tremendous destruction on their homeland, far worse than they had inflicted. I'm sure they had mixed emotions too. I wondered how many of the Americans recalled that only two weeks before the Japanese provided us recordings they had made of Russian communications to fighters that shot down the Korean Airlines plane with 269 persons on board; to do so they sacrificed the secret of their intelligence capability.

As a group of them walked by one of the Japanese young men found himself looking me straight in the eye; our gaze locked, I nodded and smiled. He smiled back, a kind of reflex, full of self consciousness; he was also pleased, confirming the realization we were now allies.

We went by freeway to the Punch Bowel. David, our guide gave us some of the native history of the island, probably a well taught subject in the grade schools of the islands. He also told of how sailors had given the ancient volcano crater the name punch bowel. Its sides had slumped and smoothed to where it was a large circular area with sloping interior like a bowel. We first looked outward over the city and harbor area then at the interior from the rim. David broke open pods from wild growing bushes and showed us the bean like seeds which are sewn together in various patterns to make leis. Larger leis are made of black Kola Nuts. The dancers had ancle bracelets of these that rattled when they danced and stomped.

Inside was row upon row of tombstones engraved and flush with the ground. At one end were marble steps with multiple marble slabs on which were inscribed the names of persons lost, whose bodies were never recovered. The names are in groups by war and by branch of service, for those who had fought in the pacific. I searched for certain names, unaware I was holding up the bus load until David appeared and asked if I needed help. I said no, I've just now found him, Vincent my cousin, a Navy fighter pilot shot down the last day of the war. I took a photo and we left. The people in the bus had been patient.

The remainder of the tour although of interest seemed anti climatic. The home of the last of the island native kings did not have that much meaning at the moment. By the time we left the islands we had begun to acquire an interest by osmosis; places and things with the names of native rulers began to have recognition and meaning to us.

That evening we wandered about the streets and shops, tired but not wanting to give up as it was our last night in Oahu.

DAY FOUR

We awakened early and watched another sunrise. We had till nine to catch the bus to the airport. The restaurant prices at the hotel were very high and we had refrained from spending more than we could enjoy just for food. We walked along the beach front and about the pool area. It was beautiful. We decided to have breakfast there as it was our last opportunity to enjoy the setting, the cost be damned! Thus is how we managed to pay $18.80 for an egg, juice and toast for Mary and a glass of juice and three pancakes for me. A dinner on the 31 st floor would have been over twice that, with coffee only; so you see we got a bargain -- well relatively speaking. Mary said she thought it was wonderful, I know the smile on her face was my greatest pleasure, she was the most beautiful woman of many, a lady with real class.

We flew Hawaiian Airlines to Maui in a DC-9 stretched version. We loaded through the tail. The bottom of the empenage dropped and unfolded into an aluminum stairway with rails. It was a clever design. Again my mind was intrigued by the similarity to a design problem in school; how to design a stair way that folded down from a ceiling. The problem was how to do the job yet keep weight and costs down. We had to arrive at a length and width of step, weight of the person, what they'd carry, where they'd place their foot, if they would place or drop their weight on a step, etc. The aircraft’s design was rugged compared to our designs, but it needed to be; there were some big people carrying heavy bags and stomping on the steps as if made of concrete. The view from our window dispelled such thoughts.

The flight took only 20 minutes most of which was spent looking out the window at other islands as they came in view in an attempt to recognize the features we saw. For the first time I became aware that Diamond Head was not a folded piece of rock strata like we are used to seeing; what we see is the rim of a small volcanic crater. From the aircraft we could look down on a complex of buildings in its crater.

From the air the islands of Molokai and Lanai looked much closer together than it would appear on a map. The neatly laid out fields of sugar cane looked like garden plots. All terrain sloped from prominent peaks. Maui's shape plus two separate north and south mountains made it immediately recognizable, with its narrower semi flat mid section covered with sugar cane. The winds were strong when we disembarked, ideal for the traders of old dependent upon strong steady winds for powering their sails.

Our rental car was a small Datson, I'd never driven one before. Curious if there was anything on the radio, I turned it on and thought it odd there was nothing. It was hot and I turned on the air conditioner while trying to read road signs and read a map. I pulled the lever at the left of the seat so I could move the seat forward. It didn't move, my attention was diverted by Mary saying the trunk lid was up. I pulled the car over and slammed the lid down hard thinking I'd properly closed it before? Then back in the car I fiddled with the air conditioner again wondering why it hadn't cooled. But first things first I wanted to move the seat forward so pulled on the lever asking Mary to help move the seat forward -- her only response was to say the trunk lid is up again! I pulled the car over abruptly, slammed the hood down, got back in the drivers seat and looked down at the lever I'd been lifting to move the seat forward. It had a picture of a gas pump on it? Upon closer examination I found "down" allowed access to the gas fill port and "up" was the trunk release! Fumbling in front of the seat I found the seat latch I'd been looking for. In the glove compartment we found a book showing an air conditioner "on" switch. In our rental car the location was occupied by a cover plate, we'd been getting nothing but outside warm air for the simple reason there was no air conditioner. There was nothing on the radio because there was no radio behind the seemingly workable knobs and dials. The adjustment for the outside rear view mirror was even missing! Man, this was the first rung above a motorcycle with side car. Subsequently on mountain roads I was glad there wasn't an air conditioner it would have sapped what power there was. We were half way across the island before this brilliant engineer had figured out the car’s attributes! Road signs were obvious by their absence. Oh there were road signs all right but not at the intersections where a stranger needed them. However the need was fleeting as in one day you could have memorized the road system by taking all the wrong turns till you had covered all the roads by error or intent.

We crossed the island from the airfield, and proceeded north along the west coast. In places the mountain slopes were almost desert. The shore line included coves for campers, then we reached the resort hotels. These were beautiful structures facing the beach with manicured lawns and golf courses on each side of the road. The third one, the Maui Surf, was ours. We checked in and I quenched my whistle with diet pop over ice; I felt dehydrated by the dry winds.

From our window we looked out upon a beautiful lawn surrounded by plants and flowers many in bloom. The lawn was sprinkled with lawn chairs randomly occupied with sunbathers, most past their surfing prime, just soaking sunshine like beached walruses. The younger set was beyond the palms on the beach or splashing in the surf. We walked out and looked about -- the sun was bright, glaring off the water. A pool at the fringe of the lawn was almost empty, in contrast with the adjacent shaded open air bar, few stools were unoccupied.

They were beginning to set up tables on the lawn in preparation for a Luau. A group of conventioners were arriving for the festivities. Although open to the public we decided to get in the car and explore -- as we left Mary commented; that's a stuffy hotel. It was certainly deluxe but we didn't spend much time there.

We drove north circling the mountain, the abundant resort hotels and lovely homes in sharp contrast with the arid native terrain. The island of Molokai seemed so close, as if it could be linked with a causeway with excess materials from the mountains. If I lived there I suppose I could not resist the urge to plum the depth and calculate if it was achievable. Were there other volcano tops just not tall enough to reach the surface? Was the channel actually shallow? The road was becoming rough and we reversed our drive. It was about 5:00 pm when we reached Lahaina; nothing stuffy about it, this is where the real people were, this is where residents and tourists alike came to shop and enjoy life.

Lahaina was the original capital of the islands. It had been the area used by whaling ships of old, it gave way only gradually to the commercial trade that developed at Honolulu.

King Kamehameha lived there and along these shores were some of the first, sometimes tragic, sometimes productive blending of western and Polynesian ways. Today it is a port for tourist trade, fishing and pleasure boat tours for rent. It is also a Mecca for surfers, male and female, many earning their keep as sales people and waiters in the abundant shops and restaurants. They were soon readily identifiable by their superb physical condition and the state of their hair, after daily drenching for hours in the surf and bleached by the sun it was almost impossible to look well groomed for the few intervening hours of work for wages.

Front street parallels the ocean and is lined with shops, a bit like the old shops of Knott’s Berry Farm, an informal almost frontier atmosphere. Some of the buildings were indeed old, Mary purchased a book on the history of the place; via this, places like the Pioneer inn, the Court House, the Old Prison, the Whalers market place, etc. took on meaning and added significantly to ones interest.

Between Front Street and Highway 30 was a modern shopping center post office, bank, hospital, churches and residences of all kinds and descriptions.

We looked over the boat harbor and watched them take photos of a young couple who had just caught a large sword fish; a lifetime memory evidenced by their smiles as their catch was hoisted and weighed. The boat crews were young, weather beaten, and readily distinguished from the tourists

Mary stuck up a conversation with an old-timer running one of the shops; his advice on where to go, to eat, etc. was most helpful. The old-timer recommended the Oceanhouse as a place to eat, after no lunch we were hungry. It was an old two story structure. The open dinning room plank floor on piling above the water were worn from use. Chair legs had worn places for their allotted spot. A sign on a wall said Founded 1906. The structure had certainly been rebuilt since but it had been in use for a long time. The view was terrific. The island of Lanai was directly opposite to the west, its peak shrouded in a rain filled cloud with the sun just setting behind. Ships, many with sails, were silhouetted; their outlines shadows on a reflecting sea. The scene was fleeting, skies darkened rapidly as the sun dropped. The vessels lights came on and scattered open places in the sky above illuminated the view as if designed to be photographed. The dinner matched the view and was not spoiled by the price. We liked it so well we returned the next night; then more relaxed we had wine and conversation with our waiter. He verified my assumption that the waiters were all surfers, a kind of informal fraternity. Most were blond, athletic like without an ounce of fat. Our waiter was from Pittsburgh Kansas. He had a degree in Electrical Engineering but was not yet willing to give up the good life; some of the attractive girls working in the adjacent shops may have had something to do with his reluctance to leave.

After dinner we wandered about. There was a place selling cups of "home made" ice cream, it was delicious. While eating the ice cream I saw Plexiglas pieces on which were engraved images of people. Looking further there was a video camera, a couple having their picture taken, a computer terminal, a box of do-it-yourself electronics with wires leading to a contraption enclosed in Plexiglas. The contraption was a three axis table with reversible electric motors and position feedback transducers for each axis. I stayed and watched the selected video captured pose be engraved. The computer was programmed to step the x axis and incrementally sweep the y axis while the vertical z axis drilled dots in the Plexiglas piece being prepared. Close examination showed the technique emulated the way a newsprint picture is made of an array of dots the density of which the eye interprets as a continuous picture, oblivious that it is a field of dots.

I was impressed by the design, whose vintage from the hardware used was perhaps four years old. It was well engineered requiring the experience of an old pro or the combine experience of several young engineers with diverse experience. Few individuals are sufficiently skilled to cover the mechanical, electrical, video and computing aspects required. My image of it being the product of some skilled hobbyist now living comfortably on the island was perhaps in error.

DAY FIVE

We slept in, tired from the hours of walking about. We returned to Lahaina for breakfast before starting on a drive about the island. The day was already hot; anticipating the drive without air conditioner I gave in and became a full tourist. I bought a pair of short pants, another Hawaiian shirt, and a fresh pair of socks for my tennis shoes. With my new Hawaiian hat to ward off the suns rays I was fully decked out for a safari down the island, pale white legs and all. Mary with map in hand and me behind the wheel of our powerful machine we ventured forth.

The shopping guide map, we soon found, left much to be desired; compounded by not reading the fine print. Our intent was to drive south about the south mountain peak to "see whats on the other side". The coastal road to the north had been great. After making some wrong turns we drove along the coast on highway 31 past more luxurious homes along the beach. There were parks, manicured lawns and golf courses, the last of which seemed to be dominated by Japanese. Then the excellent road ran out. A road marker still said highway 31 but in the vernacular of a Civil engineer the road bed had only received a "single asphalt surface treatment" and was 50% chuck-holes. Two young fellows that lived there said we needed to either go back from whence we came and take a different route or climb the mountain which they didn't recommend. The map we found said, off to the side, “4-wheel drove only". We reversed, backtracking all the way across the island almost to the airport to pickup highway 37 eventually returning to within a couple miles of where we had been, but about 2000 feet higher.

The sugar cane fields seemed to be in various stages of maturity ranging from quite young, about two feet high; to mature, being harvested at about 10 feet high with stems two inches in diameter. The equipment used to handle the big heavy stuff looked more like road building equipment than Kansas wheat farming equipment. It seemed that the fields belonged to the California- Hawaii, C&H sugar company. The soil of the fields themselves looked like the red soil of the Black Hills of S. Dakota or the red soils of Oklahoma. I'm still curious if this is a volcanic ash or decomposed lava, probably both.

Haleakala Highway 37, starting near the airport, climbs through the cane fields until the foothills of the mountain is reached. It then continues at the same general elevation heading around the mountain. At this, halfway up the mountain, elevation the climate is temperate with grass covered rolling hills radiating from the peak. There were scattered homes, fences, cattle, horses, schools, stores along the way. This seemed to be where those working the farm land below lived. They were modern well cared for homes, very nice, typical of a long term community.

As we headed around the south slope of the mountain highway 37 became 31. The quality of the road and the general terrain changed. This slope seemed void of soil. The 1 1/2 lane road had been bulldozed up and down over lava flows dropping at about a 30 degree slope to the sea some 2000 feet below. There was almost no traffic, with only a few scattered houses along the way. It was poor country even for livestock. I soon found myself reminded of old country roads that followed the terrain up and down hills near the creek back home. It seemed fun to ride this rolly-coaster barely adequate road at 65 mph, peaks and dips caused one to suck in their gut and feel the need to hang on; Mary's comments soon caused me to realize she was becoming quite uncomfortable, trying to not be a kill joy realizing I was finding delight in this devil may care ride. When I realize it had reached the point of being frightening to her I turned about retracing our route till we reached the turn off to the Kula Botanical Gardens. The weather was generally dry and the "Garden" had seen better days but it was none the less of interest, certainly to Mary as she took time to read and make notes relative to plants that appealed to her.

Our return to Kaanapali, the resort area where our hotel was located, was uneventful. During our ride we did see an experimental farm with a DeKalb sign, where they were experimenting with hybrid corn. The sight of this caused me to wonder how such a crop would do. It then occurred to me that a reason sugar cane could not be grown in the planes states of the mainland was that its growing season was about 1 1/2 years long, it would winter-kill before reaching harvest time. A tropic crop could have a somewhat continuous growth cycle as the seasons were in the form of wet vs dry rather than hot vs cold.

We went through a shopping center adjacent to our hotel. Dispersed among the restaurants and shops were museum type displays with artifacts from the old whaling days. It was in fact an excellent collection including tools, boats, a whale skeleton navigational instruments, etc. Fatigue set in and after a brief rest at the hotel we returned to Lahaina to the Ocean-house restaurant.

After dinner we again combed the shops, there was a sameness yet each store held its surprise. One place specializing in sweatshirts with words like "Lookout for Bird-shot", with white streaks extending from each shoulder down the front, painted gull excrement!

There was a considerable amount of skrimshaw; the carving of scenes on bone or tusk. The prices on jewelry in some of the stores showed a catering to clientele of considerable wealth where money was no object.

We were intrigued by what one woman displayed on a table in what seemed to be an alleyway. These were sea shells on necklace chains. We found that her husband dived off the north shore to gather shells unique to the islands. Included in her display was a sequence of shell samples showing how the crude non-appealing dull outer part of the shell was removed, course buffed to leave dark shades to the center and white shell at the perimeter, with a final fine buffing to give it a Jewell quality luster. They were priced from $5.00 to $12.00 and were very attractive, no other shops had anything like them. The woman herself was dressed as a normal house wife tending a counter. During her description of how the shells were prepared we became aware that she was indeed strikingly beautiful; a mixture of Asian and Polynesian. Her jet black eyes sparkled like gems, long black eye lashes, curling black hair, wide cheek bones covered with clear smooth brown skin. She was a mixture of races and not assignable to any particular one.

This purchase completed our shopping. Tired we returned, the following morning we'd be going to Hawaii.

DAY SIX

Neither of us slept well, the only night we didn't, reason unknown. We were soon packed and back in Lahaina for breakfast. It was a beautiful Sunday morning. We could see the waves across the street from our booth. There had been a Plumeria tree in full bloom. Mary picked up one of the excess flowers and put it in her hair. I wish now I had taken a picture. Her suntan, trim figure and white flower in her dark hair made her look like one of the native girls in the picture postcards. She was happy and looked radiant.

Before leaving she hurried to buy the straw purse she'd seen the night before, it had been too expensive then, now a bargain. Was that why she hadn't slept?

Our check-in time for take off to Hawaii was 11:15 am, it was a good thing we allowed enough time as it took almost 45 minutes to get the car checked in. The Maui airport was very busy. The flight, again on a DC-9 was uneventful and brief. The airfield on Hawaii seemed so small and informal with very little traffic. At the AVIS car rental I waited in line while two women handled the entire operation. We were told where to park the cars upon return, and that it was up to us to fill the tank before returning the car, there was no gasoline at the car rental! I thought to myself, and this is “the big island”? The fellow in line next to me became confused with his paid in advance car rental papers and dropped his camera. I was unaware except that he stooped to pick up something. I just happened to catch the look on his face as he placed two separate pieces together as if they should somehow glue back in place -- he stood there speechless as his jaw sagged. The voice of the woman waiting on him trailed off while repeating the routine words, becoming aware of what had happened. Then after a moment she said to the man are you all right? He nodded without uttering a word and she continued with her speal.

The lady waiting on me asked if I wanted to pay the extra for a bigger car with air conditioning? I don't know if she thought I I needed it or could afford it. I jumped at the chance. It only cost $5.00 a day extra for a fully equipped 83' Oldsmobile, a beautiful car. What a difference from the day before -- and everything worked.

We were told to take a certain road till we came to highway 19 which would take us into town. We did and I made a right turn onto 19. Uncertain of where we were headed we pulled off to have a look. We saw the airstrip marks on the map, highway 19, where the ocean was and figured we should have turned left, so I did a 180 and set the air conditioner for cool, smiling that it worked. The landscape soon turned desolate covered with black lava -- the names on the highway signs didn't make any sense. We had driven many miles on the near perfect highway wondering why anyone would want to come to this island and why we hadn't come to one of the names on the map?. Finally stopping the car, reading our tickets and studying the map we discovered we were on the opposite side of the island from where we thought, we were traveling in the wrong direction! That’s what happens when you don't plan or look ahead. We had been booked into the unmarked small Keahole airport rather than the larger Hilo airport! It just happened that a highway 19 went past each airport! Now the names on the road signs, those on our papers and those on the map fit. We were soon back to the airport headed in the proper direction traveling along a mountain slope heavy with vegetation. We over shot the street we were looking for, back tracked and finally reached the Kona Surf hotel; we could see it long before we found the road that reached it. We found we should have left the highway and taken the beach road which was lined with beautiful hotels parks and boat accommodations. It was a very beautiful setting, more so than any of the other coast lines at Maui and Oahu.

We checked in, relaxed briefly then went out to dinner at a place called Buzz's. We had a table on a second floor overlooking the ocean. I had a thick fish steak, the "catch of the day" on the menu. It was a bit dry but tasty. After a look through the shops we returned too tired to do more than watch TV; shows from LA, imagine LA commercials on the screen of a resort hotel in Hawaii!

DAY SEVEN

It is 6:00 am, this time on the western shore of Hawaii looking down from the second floor of the Kona-Surf hotel. The wind and waves are eternal. Way out on the water is a lone sail boat with one light, anchored and bobbing. The near fringe of scattered over hanging clouds are brighted by the morning sun. There are no sounds from within the huge sprawling edifice we are in. The hotel rests on thick black lava flows of recent geological origin. The surface of the lava flow is smooth and wrinkled, as if a giant kettle of chocolate cake mix had spilled from up on the mountain, flowed into the sea then was baked to a crisp porous black.

In these few minutes the sky has brightened to a pale blue. A motorized fishing boat with two, is now heading out to sea. Should they look back, this hotel would look sprawling and huge, not high and trim. The hotel dominates the shore line like a fort commanding a strategic point, its massive white stucco walls in sharp contrast to the black lava foundation and the lush green foliage on each side, and the rising mountain slope behind. There is no sandy beach; but an excellent cove sheltering small boats nearby. The mountain behind is covered by a canopy of clouds like a huge awning over the homes peeking seaward through dark green foliage. Their occupants will soon awaken with the opportunity to begin their day with a panoramic view available to a fortunate few. Their mail address is keauhou-kona, in the county of Hawaii - no problem here of defining the county line.

From here to the north are magnificent resort hotels. The main shopping center is at the north end of this stretch at Kailua Bay, the sight of king Kamehameha palace, now a museum. Highway 11 slowly climbs from beach region up the side of the mountain as it heads south parallel to the coast. Captain Cooks unpretentious monument is in a cove to the south, an unlikely spot to have met ones end. On the hillside above are coffee trees, Kona coffee, the only coffee grown in the US.

Yesterday at days end, sport fishing boats were returning. Among them, in stark contrast, was a slow moving brilliantly decorated vessel. It almost looked like a barge with three stubby masts sporting bright red sails. It was a tourist ship made out as an inter-island Polynesian war ship of catamaran construction. Later at night it was brilliantly illuminated with sounds of native music floating across the water.

It’s now a quiet Monday morning, the sun just now peeking over the mountain illuminating the top of this strangely luxurious hotel. The hotels magnificent interior gardens are still dripping wet awaiting the suns rays to become humid.

It's time to dress and begin the day while the morning freshness lingers.

We breakfast at the Spindrifter, seated at an outdoor table overlooking the sea. It had formerly been a Rubens, a part of Far West but sold by Grace Co to Jolly Roger Co. We had an excellent breakfast at a decent price. The waitress was cute in looks and personality, volunteering her ancestry included four diverse origins, I have a lot of blood, she said.

I became very curious about the forces that must be endured by the huge old palm trees. I noticed that their trunks were pockmarked with what looked like telephone pole climber spike marks, perhaps such were used to clear old branches at the top. In places this had caused decay of the outer fibers. The whipping of storm winds must place tremendous loads on the lower trunk fibers, it would take strong piano wire to support such a man made structure.

When we left the restaurant I asked Mary if she had her cloth measuring tape, with it she measured the length of my shadow. I then paced the length of a palm tree shadow. Having once made our living as a civil engineer doing surveying I used my 3 foot pace that used to come out +-l foot out of 100; ie, 1%. It worked out that the sun was about 45% above the horizon and that the node of palm branches was about 50 feet above the ground. If the last intact fiber in the base of the trunk was at a radius of 6 inches then a force of one pound at the top would apply a force of 100 pounds on that fiber. I don't believe a man, capable of a 200 pound pull could hold the foliage top in a wind storm. Independent of other forces on the trunk this would place a tremendous load on the lower trunk fibers. I've interrupted my writing to look up the centroid of a half circle and make some calculations. The base would see 100,000 ft-lb of torque. The trunk would have a .212 ft moment arm so its fibers would see a 47,170 lb force, with an area of 11.3 square inches that becomes 4,172 lb/sqin. However the trunk has perhaps only 20% of its area in tensile fibers such that the stress on those fibers could be at least 20,860 lb/sqin, that’s a lot of stress for an organically grown carbohydrate. I wonder how the replicating cells link themselves to obtain such strength and still leave room for the capillary straw like interior through which to draw moisture. Ah! But this is a time and tale of fun and relaxation; not Darwin’s voyage on the Beagle where he was being paid to be curious. While so engaged in one curiosity leading to another, Mary marveled the colors and shapes of plants; view scapes that twinkled her artists eye.

With air conditioner on we headed south on highway 11, destination the volcano national park. Man! That is a big island, we drove over 200 miles to get there and back. That was just to get around Mount Loa in the south part of the island, elevation 13,680 feet. The Volcano house at the visitors center in the park was about 4,000 feet.

To get there the trip south, parallel with the coast, was along heavy vegetation about 2000 feet above but often in sight of the sea. The road twisting turning left, right, up and down with speed limited to about 35 mph. Then as we cut east along the southern point we climbed and lost sight of the sea. A few miles later we headed north east slowly climbing on an excellent highway. Vegetation became more sparse.

We arrived at the center shortly after noon; frankly the drive had tired me, perhaps it was the wind and altitude. There were bus loads of people milling about looking at maps, pictures, lava samples and viewing the 10 minute film showing the geological phenomena of a volcano as well as fascinating pictures of eruptions and lava flows.

We then drove around the large caldera, the center of a volcanic cone that had sunk after the internal pressure was dissipated. Some steam and sulfur vapors were visible but this portion had not been active since 1975. The active region was along a fault extending south east to the sea, called the Chain of Craters. One had been active the week before. Having recently taken a class in Geology at Fullerton JC the diagrams and film clips from that class were recalled. The day before I had purchased the Sept issue of Scientific American at a book store in Maui; the entire issue dealt with the Geology of the Earth. Although I had not read the issue, a brief glimpse of the diagrams enabled one to put the view of the expansive caldera before us on a scale with respect to other forces on the continents and ocean plates of the Atlantic and Pacific. There was no longer a childlike fear of sudden catastrophic Hollywood imagery of islands blowing up suddenly and of natives trying to appease the Gods by throwing beautiful maidens into the bubbling inferno -- what a horrible waste -- perish the thought.

The return trip was uneventful except for being stopped for speeding and concern that we might run out of gas before finding a station. We came upon two patrol cars in tandem, the first caught our speed with his radar and the second pulled us over; a courteous but recorded warning for doing 62 mph. He told me where I'd be able to get some gas. I was thankful I'd detected the patrol car and had cut some 10 mph from my speed before he logged it on his radar; driving fast had been a characteristic of my youth on the plains of Kansas, thankfully I'd slowed down since then.

We stopped off to see the Kona Coffee Mill, a declared historic sight, and continued to the Captain Cook monument. While there watching jet black crabs walking sideways over ocean rounded volcanic rock I posed questions to a man standing near by; have you ever seen a black crab before? He said, come to think of it no, must be some kind of adaptation. He subsequently identified himself as from Utah, a Mormon -- they normally don't adhere to his view that the crabs color was due to adaptation. But perhaps he’d read Darwin’s diary’s written in 1835 while on the sailing ship The Beagle in these waters. Darwin’s observations had posed many questions. Noting a thin collection of white sand on the black rocks I said to him; did you ever wonder where the light colored beach sand on these islands comes from? I'm sure they don't haul it in from the mainland, and all we see about us is the black lava? He pondered and said; I wonder? The lava is black all the way through too? I said the sand is predominately silicon, and I know there is a high percentage of silicon in lava, I wonder what process separates it, seemingly undergoing a change of state. I'm sure it's more than just being bleached by the sun and exposed to saltwater. I'm still curious, are you?

That evening we returned to the Spindrifter for dinner. one of the pretty young ladies helped show Mary how to fit multiple plumeria flowers, abundant on the lawn, into one set and place them in her hair. She looked pleased and attractive as we were seated with an excellent view in the open. The waitress said if we ordered now we could get Mai-Tais at the bargain price of $1.25 ea. Since it was our last night we said yes. By the time they came it was starting to rain. We moved back under the protection of an awning & ordered our dinner. It was pouring down when dinner was served. We ordered wine to go with the meal. Mary had lobster, large and tasty; I ordered what turned out to be a large container full of various kinds of sea food mixed together as a soup. It was boiling hot but delicious.

We walked about the nearby shops to work off the effect of having over eaten, although we'd had little for lunch. As we looked about the shops in one of the nicest hotels in the area we realized it was our last night. We made more purchases, one was a shirt for me. Mary and I had taken a fancy to shirts depicting nautical things, typical of the days of sailing ships. Mary said, now that’s a shirt with real class.

Upon return to the hotel we found a Polynesian show in full swing. We were only able to see the last 15 minutes of it from a far table but it was worth it. These were relative young dancers that made this their livelihood; naturally very good. We wandered about a bit more seeing a wild Mongoose in the flower beds; at first it looked like a huge rat. They had been brought in from India to kill rats. However the island had no natural enemy, and they now wild and a nuisance.

DAY EIGHT

The phone rang as requested at 6:00 am. The bags were soon packed, into the car and we were on our way to the airport. I had topped off the gas tank as requested, we had used 1 1/2 tanks of gas -- I didn’t want to ruin it by looking at the price, Our meal the night before had been about $37.00. Good thing it was the final day. The car check-in, baggage inspection for plants entering the United States was no problem. We had plenty of time for a roll, coffee and cantaloupe for breakfast.

There were few fellow passengers for our early flight to Oahu. Our plane was an odd looking thing called a Dash 7, I kept asking myself, dash to what? I'd never seen one before. It looked like the designers had done everything the hard way, But it looked safe through the redundancy of four turboprop engines & straight wide wings. It seemed to have been designed to get in and out of short runways and be able to make it to the next island with two engines out. It was a very smooth flight, our last on Hawaiian Airlines.

We carried two bags, they became very heavy in the longer than expected walk to the Western Airlines terminal.

We passed by an area where Japanese were making their final purchases before their return trip. They were all expensively dressed and seemed determined to have spent all their money before returning. It was interesting to observe the kinds of things they bought. Some were elegant and expensive things, duty free to them, excluded from us, mostly from Europe. The American merchandise was open for all. The Japans seemed intrigued with anything having symbols they recognized. Mickey Mouse was perhaps the most popular. The one that I'll always remember was the attractive well groomed middle aged Japans woman in her Arnold Palmer sweater! We wondered if she had any idea who Arnold Palmer is.

The remainder of the return trip was normal. In a contemplative mood Mary commented about some elderly Hawaiians she had watched put on a show at the Sheritan-Waikiki. She said, they were so graceful, even the men. We visited of their dances and the meaning their arm motions, these came from the days before written language. By repeatedly enacting memorized stories in the form of dance and song, the elder people had passed on the legends of their historic past to the young; grandmothers telling their grandchildren gathered about a campfire the stories in pantomime. I could imagine little kids listening with intent faces.

Should you plan to go, travel light. Read the maps of where you are going in advance, and of the places to see; it will save time and add meaning. Allow time for travel between islands, almost a full day is consumed. Take plenty of money, food costs more, as do the nicer things and places. We could easily have spent more or less. Our $2750.00 for the eight days was par for the coarse.

If you've read to here I hope you've enjoyed it because the writing of this has been much more work than intended -- Alooo Ha as we have learned to say.

P.S. If you haven't been there, you are to answer back; Alooo Ha, dragging out the first part and chopping the next. Then with right hand raised fingers folded except for little finger and thumb, smile and say to the other "hang loose, Alooo Ha".

Note: This was originally written on a Commodore Computer using a word processor program I’d written in machine code. IBM PC’s had not yet been born, and there were no commercial word processors available. The result, printed on a dot matrix printer included many spelling errors. That version has been scanned, optical character reader converted, and edited using Word 7 under Windows 95. It’s auto spell checker has been a blessing!