The fiftieth state (Hawaii) had become my family’s home in the four years that we lived there. I felt like Kama’aina (person of the land), I had made many Navy and non Navy friends and my children were healthy and happy. Our days were long, peaceful, and full of Aloha (living in harmony).
Most weekdays, we swam at the quiet Makalapa Crater Officer’s Club pool after school. After dinner, we’d ride our bikes down the bike path to Pearl Harbor. We’d pass the old electric plant, Taro fields, and the Harbor full of battleships, some “mothballed.”
On weekends we’d take the ferry and bike around the mostly deserted Ford Island. The National Historic Landmark was a strategic center for operations for the U.S. Navy. Ford Island was attacked on December 7, 1941 and is considered to be haunted by the servicemen killed on that day. Visiting the airstrip, one definitely feels a sense of urgency and eeriness.
We’d spend all day at our favorite beach in Kailua with its tide pools. The beach is located at the end of Kailua Bay and has calm surf, very few people, shade, and white sand beaches. Kaneohe Yacht Club’s beautiful pool was a favorite after a day of sailing. The Sandbar was our sailing destination for a picnic lunch, perfect for a lazy day of floating around.
We respected the history of this beautiful state. Whenever family or friends visited, Iolani Palace, The Bishop Museum, and Chinatown were high on our list. We could understand and speak a little “pidgin” and pronounce Hawaiian words correctly. We still love the music of Aloha, especially The Brothers Cazimero.
The U.S. Navy had one last move in mind – 4,826 miles away, Washington D.C.
With a broken heart, I dragged my suitcase through the Honolulu airport while my tears fell on my baby’s head, asleep in her cozy carrier. All week I had been saying goodbyes to my friends, my favorite beaches, swimming pools, sushi bars, and restaurants. I rode down the bike path to Pearl Harbor one last time. We walked around Waikiki and had rainbow shave ice. Dinner at The Crouching Lion. Brunch at the Royal Hawaiian, Gyros fresh off the “spit” at the Waikiki Shopping Plaza. Drinks at the Monkey Bar and Macadamia Nut Pie in Pearl City. Saimen for breakfast, plate lunch in Kailua for lunch, Shabu Shabu for dinner and steamed pork buns and almond cookies for a late night snack.
There was a somber vibe on the plane, tourists at the end of their vacation dreading their return to reality. I felt their loss times a thousand, my dread was that of the unknown, a permanent transition from paradise to “back East.” Landing at San Francisco International Airport I immediately felt a change in the air. Despite it being “laidback” California, there was a prevailing hurriedness that was completely lacking in Hawaii. After a quick layover, we flew to Denver then a tiny plane to Cheyenne, Wyoming. My children’s cat and two guinea pigs were safe and happy for their freedom at my sister’s house. The open spaces and dry, fresh air filled with memories was our host, it had been a very long day – the first day of the rest of my life. The visit with my family in Wyoming was peaceful and quiet, days spent outside breathing in the beauty of the landscape, exactly what we needed before our new life in “the East.”
Our flight from Denver touched down at Dulles just at “rush hour.” The sense of urgency of the throng of travelers was palpable, my knuckles were white clinging to my children as we were swept out of the plane. We retrieved our luggage and pets, got the keys for our rental car, and headed to Old Town Alexandria and the Holiday Inn. Simple, right? Wrong… we were like “Charlie on the MTA,” we couldn’t find our exit or get off the Beltway. The ferocity of this pack of highway drivers was new to me. In Hawaii, you simply wave your hand out of your window, asking to change a lane. On 495, my blinker stayed on for what seemed like hours, I lacked the nerve to force my way into the next lane of bumper to bumper traffic. My newborn baby’s frantic cries became my own so with desperation I pulled off the highway somewhere in Virginia. My children and I were not going to be defeated, we could find a Holiday Inn. Map in lap, I took the backroads and arrived in Alexandria three and a half hours after landing. It was my first moment of questioning if I belonged here or if I needed to go home.
Alexandria was historic and beautiful, our house was in a cul de sac, perfect for children. The weird thing was, every morning our neighborhood emptied, cars backed down their driveways, returning at seven o’clock each night. With my three older children at school, my baby, our guinea pigs, my cat, and I were all alone, it felt a little apocalyptic. I pushed my baby in her stroller around our neighborhood several times a day in search of a beautiful tree, vista, or another human being. I looked forward to the sound of the Mail Carrier on my front porch. I volunteered at my children’s school, I took needlepoint classes, my baby and I went to Gymboree and La Leche League meetings to keep busy. I didn’t meet any real friends. The best part of my day was my children coming home. They were acclimating much better than I. This role of suburban housewife was new to me. I looked the part in my wool pants, turtleneck sweater, and “Papagallo” flats, the barefooted island girl was slowly being erased. The first family ride down the Mt. Vernon Bike Trail was a happy day for me, I found my open breathing space. My baby in a trailer behind my bike and my children riding with abandon, we all felt better, it was the perfect day.
The changing of the seasons was glorious, carving pumpkins in chilly weather then our first snow. Christmas was beautiful, we visited Mount Vernon and experienced the reenactment of Martha and George’s Christmas so many years before. Walking around Old Town Alexandria’s shops decorated so beautifully was a delightful treat. My Mom came for a visit, she had gotten tickets for the Christmas tour of The White House. Nancy Reagan’s theme was, “Old Fashioned Turn of the Century Christmas.” We shopped in Georgetown, with its festive Christmas decorations. FAO Schwartz was a year round favorite.
I had survived five months in “the East” and I felt optimistic that 1986 was going to be a great year. To be continued….
Kate Emery General is a retired chef/restaurant owner who was born and raised in Casper, Wyoming. Kate loves her grandchildren, knitting, and watercolor painting. Kate and her husband, Matt are longtime residents of Cambridge’s West End where they enjoy swimming and bicycling.
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Your angst in leaving Hawaii had me in tears. I was not Navy but had to leave paradise after six years in Kanoehe due to a divorce. I had similar feelings on that long plane trip across the ocean and the country back to New England, with two suitcases and two dogs in the cargo hold. The sky was murky when I arrived, and the airport did not have the smell of flowers in the air, as it did in Honolulu. Hawaii will always be in my heart, or maybe it’s vice versa.