Love Letter to Kona

Dear Kona,
I'm so sorry I've been cheating on you. What can I say, I can love more than 1 place at a time. Deal with it. No, no, really I'm sorry. You deserve better from me. After all, you are the place of my birth, where my immigrant roots go back 4 generations. My great-grandfather found his way here, and started the family in the coffee life; for some cousins, it still continues. For me, I just drink the stuff.

I love that I have extended family here (and more on my mother's side in Hilo). I love that we get together for holidays, birthdays, graduations, and all those life-marking events. I am grateful that I can participate in remembrances honoring the dead at funerals and bon festivals. I love when I meet someone and I can connect to them because they know my cousin, or aunty, or uncle. Once, I met an elderly man at Oshima's Store who knew my dad, who has long passed. I love going to the high school and knowing that my dad also walked those halls. I love when my cousin brings us fish. There is a sense of family connection here. 

Kona, I love you more when I go away and get my "city fix" somewhere, Honolulu or somewhere on the mainland. Though, you are still having growing pains, and some traffic issues, it is nothing like Honolulu. I can STILL find parking in town most of the time when I want to. And we are not cut-throat drivers here. I love your more relaxed pace. And then there is your natural beauty.

There is a reason, Kona, that the Ali'i of the past would come here for vacations, and also that King Kamehameha settled here in his later years. The resources of the sea and the land were bountiful and beautiful. That still continues, and it is why so many of my friends are attracted here, and also that so much of my family has continued to live here. Thank you for that, Kona. And let's not forget the sea creatures that are likewise drawn to our shores for your bounty.

I loved Hualalai greeting me every morning on my way to work. Now that I am retired, I don't see that visage daily, but like Diamond Head on Oahu, it is the feature prominent in my consciousness when I think about you, Kona. Hualalai has a soul, a personality. She is shy, in a way. Many times, she is clothed in clouds. But when she emerges, I see her majesty, and she is a comforting presence. I live where Hualalai and Mauna Loa join. It's kind of like a cradle. 

Okay, so you've got a problem with vog. Nobody's perfect. And it only serves to remind us that we live on an island that hosts an active volcano. There is something powerful about living on such an island. There is mana in that; Pele is our volatile sister. You may not enjoy her, but you lovingly respect her. And, it's almost as if we get these gorgeous sunsets in compensation.

Because Hawaii Island is such a young island, the features at your beaches reflect that. Though there is beauty in fine, white, sand beaches, there is also beauty in rough shores, made of smoothed out pieces of coral and lava rocks. 

And Kona, your anchialine ponds are still here. So few places in the world have these unique brackish water ponds. The combination of being a volcanic island with an upland slope draining freshwater to mix with the sea water is rare geologically.  Though most are in trouble being overrun by invasive plants and animals, I still love them for their uniqueness and the opae ula (native shrimp) that manage to survive somewhere within the porous lava. Restoring and protecting the ponds is a task, a goal to work on.

Kona, I really appreciate your "ahupua`a" -ness (with apologies to Hawaiian language purists). In ancient Hawaii, the land was organized into ahupua`a, a land division "from the mountain to the sea," so that members of an ahupua`a could share resources with each other. Kona, you are known for your plentiful ocean resources; your middle agricultural areas are also acknowledged for fertile soil; and your upland forest areas are lush and lovely. You're the total package. 

So Kona, I do love you. I do appreciate you. You are important to me. I thank you for being lovely and laid-back, for giving me a history, for giving me a home.