Sep 20
21
In The Beginning (15)
FIVE
The uneventful Hawaiian Air flight was over and I was at the back of the line waiting to get off the plane. All I had brought on board was my laptop and had kept it under the seat just in front of me; since it had been “open” seating I was now wondering why I hadn’t taken one of the empty seats closer to the front – instead of being stuck behind all these people gathering their things out of the overhead bins.
I was hopeful that Sid’s housekeeper was there to meet me as scheduled. I felt a slight twinge of panic as Sid had given me directions to get to the retreat, just a few miles south of the town of Captain Cook, but then the signals became a bit mixed because he told me she would be meeting me at the airport here and it dawned on me now that I didn’t remember her name, if he had even given me her name.
I followed the crowd of about ninety people toward the baggage carousels which are quaint little thatched huts …set in the elements outdoors. Picturesque, perhaps and it rarely rains here, but it did rain on occasion and it could be quite windy during a storm – that could prove to be a bit tough when picking up one’s bags… a thesis which later proved to be true when I got soaked during a downpour).
Sid and Al had warned me that on certain days the air would be loaded with haze from Kilauea, the volcano on the other side of the island, which had been “bubbling over” continuously for almost thirty years – and that the air was bad enough at times to be irritating to eyes and throat. They explained that the severity depended upon which way the wind was blowing. There would be days and even weeks when it was not even noticeable on the west side of the Island where I’d be staying, so they had assured me.
Today wasn’t one of those days – the air reminded me of the time when I had visited a friend in the foothills near Pasadena in Southern California right in the middle of an air quality alert announcement telling residents to stay indoors! I remembered it well and the memory wasn’t good. This was worse! There was a distinct smell of sulfur in the air and the sky was almost gray with the smoky haze of volcanic residue.
Still following the crowd and feeling a bit lost, I see an older, rather squat, heavy-set woman in a long, dark blue print dress, with white and yellow plumeria, Hawaiian dress, referred to as a mu’u-mu’u. She was holding a sign that had JEANNE STOCKWELL hand-printed on it. Very much relieved, I walked up to her saying, “Hi I’m Jeanne, and I’m embarrassed because I have forgotten your name.”
“No need for that, Jeanne, everyone calls me Auntie Em, welcome and aloha – let’s go get your luggage and we’ll put it right over there by the curb. You can sit on the bench there while I go get your car.”
She spoke with a sing-song accent that sounded almost on the verge of being “pidgin”, the kind of English in which many of the local islanders communicated when talking with one another. Her voice was soft with an almost melodic lilt to it. She later explained to me that her mother was a mixture of Filipino, Chinese, Portuguese and native Hawaiian and her father was a mixture of German and Norwegian, “I’m a real mongrel,” she told me with an infectious laugh.
Her husband of forty years had passed away two years before and she still lived in the same house they bought soon after their marriage. She had been born in Captain Cook, where we were headed and the only places she’d been “off-island” were Oahu (the island which Honolulu occupies) and Maui where a brother and two sisters lived.
Auntie Em and her husband had worked for Sid for over twenty years, she had told me, managing his various properties. He owned an apartment building in Kona and some rentals scattered around. Her husband, Ed, had supervised the maintenance and she had taken care of the books and collections, but since Ed had died Sid and she had worked it out so that she took care of what had been Ed’s responsibilities as well as her own. She was to tell me all of these things on the drive down to Captain Cook. I wondered if she would ever stop talking even though it was actually pleasant and I appreciated that it was helping me to get to know her.
It wasn’t long before they announced the luggage off my flight and the jitney pulling the carts loaded high with baggage drove up; the handlers began loading the bags onto the carousel. “Carousel” is actually a misnomer, because there is no movement. The handlers just place (“slam down” is a more descriptive term – the habit of baggage handlers the world over) the bags all around the station that looks like it should be turning, but is stationary.
Sitting on the bench waiting for Auntie Em to bring the car around, I was musing about what the next few weeks might bring. A surprising thought was running through my mind. I was anxious to get to Sid’s “retreat” so I could get on the phone. What surprised me was that I was more excited about calling Jeff and Roberta Barrett than anything else.
“Is this an important connection?” I asked Spirit… and immediately remembered Jeff and I laughing about my saying somberly that our getting together was “ordained” …and it was confirmed at this moment that it really was.
All of a sudden I began wondering if I wasn’t supposed to get together with them almost immediately. Sid had told me to get the housekeeper to give me some Hawaiian Airlines, inter-island flight vouchers that were already paid for and I could fly around to the different islands anytime I wanted. Besides, with the generous advance, I’d been given for the series of articles, I felt temporarily “rich” …I’m certainly not wealthy, but I’m fairly well off. I’m also a bit frugal and would normally think twice about getting on an airplane to hop over to Honolulu just to see Jeff and Roberta …now I didn’t think twice – I knew I would be going and probably soon.
I started to give myself a lecture about needing to get to work on the series and perhaps planning for Brad’s interview …but something was coming back to me from yesterday afternoon when Sid and Al were leaving my hotel. Good grief was that only yesterday? …what a whirlwind!
“Jeanne,” Sid had said, “take some time for yourself, Hawaii can be a beautiful and magical place, don’t miss the opportunity to enjoy it.” That is when he told me about the ample number of prepaid flight vouchers or “passes” …I was almost giddy with an exciting feeling of freedom that I don’t remember ever feeling before.
Well, I thought, if Jeff and Roberta Barrett seemed open to it, why not? My temporary employer was certainly encouraging it. Yes indeed, why not? …just then the White Lexus sedan, “my” car, pulled up and Auntie Em had already popped the trunk lid.
We took the “upper highway” because Auntie Em said it was more scenic that way and actually a bit faster because we avoided all the traffic on the lower road. She insisted that one day I needed to explore Highway 11 below – “many good things to see down there,” she said.
The views from the highway were spectacular. On one spot about half way there, straight ahead, just before a sharp curve to the left, there was a small embankment loaded solid with deep red poinsettias; every imaginable color of flowers along the way, tall trees with bright orange-colored blossoms, the splash of light blue of several large Jacaranda trees. Off to the right, as the highway took us ever higher, two thousand feet down, was the grandeur of the azure blue Pacific.
I was captivated; however the weariness of the last several days began to settle in over me. Had it not been for Auntie Em’s incessant conversation, I’m sure I would have fallen asleep.
We went past the famous Kona Coffee plantation at around the 3,000 ft. level – Auntie Em explained that coffee grows best at that elevation and that her husband had worked at the mill for several years, mainly doing upkeep on the variety of machinery, conveyor belts and other equipment, before they both went to work for Sid Wilmot.
We went through an area in which trees growing on either side of the twisting two lane highway grew into each other overhead conspiring to provide a dark tunnel – narrow shafts of sunlight filtered down to make it a mysterious interlude.
Then came the little settlement of Kealakekua made famous by the song that was going through my head; “Oh I want to go back to my little grass shack in Ke-ala-ke-kua Ha-wai-ee” …and there it was replete with sign, “The Little Grass Shack” …not a very impressive sight after all the beauty I had just seen, but interesting nonetheless.
Now we are going through Captain Cook and Auntie Em pointed out the supermarket on the left and assured me that if I needed anything she would be glad to pick it up for me, but said I’d probably want to do some of my own shopping and this was a place that “had everything and the prices were reasonable” both of which did, in fact, prove to be true.
I looked at my watch and it was after 4:30 already …my enthusiasm for anything but a nap was waning. I was feeling almost desperate to lie down for awhile. I asked her how much farther and was oh, so relieved to have her say “just a few minutes.”
About three miles after we left the edge of town she turned on the left turn indicator and I almost gasped to see the narrow road that angled off and looked like it almost went straight up, seemingly cut through thick, unruly vegetation that threatened to choke it off! It soon leveled somewhat and we angled off to the right onto another narrow road that came abruptly to an end at a metal gate that had a large sign saying it was private, KEEP OUT in red letters and a notice below that the property was protected by armed patrol.
Auntie Em reached out to a bracket on the dashboard just to the left of the glove compartment, containing two remote controls – she told me to remember the one on the left was for the gate and the one on the right was for the garage door. She pushed the button and the gate rolled steadily, but slowly to the right on its track.
Always remember, she instructed, to stop and close the gate after I had passed it in either direction.
“Is there really an armed guard around,” I asked cautiously.
“Oh no,” she said giggling, “Mr. Wilmot said to leave the sign up, but best we not tell anyone – but don’t worry, nobody has ever come around in twenty years unless invited.”
We drove another fifty feet and it was like coming into some kind of magical garden. Off to the left was a little white house surrounded by an expanse of beautifully manicured grass delightfully sprinkled with a variety of flowering shrubs and trees …she told me that the house was where the caretaker, Milton, lived who was off on Mondays and today happened to be over in Hilo on the other side of the island, I’d meet him soon, she told me.
Straight ahead was a very long, nicely finished single level building trimmed with used brick and a red tile roof which had five wider than normal garage doors – she pulled up to the one on the far right and pushed the button on the remote at the right.
Up the door glided and revealed an immaculate and orderly looking oversized garage. Auntie Em explained there were two other cars parked in the next garages to the left and if for any reason I wanted to use either, the keys were on the wall in the kitchen of where I’d be staying. She explained that the caretaker’s equipment took up all the space in the two garages to the far left.
“Come,” she said, as she got out of the car “…let me show you around quickly and then maybe you should rest for a bit, don’t you think?” she asked understandingly. I merely nodded.
Minutes later I was sprawled out on top of the King-sized bed, fully clothed, after just having kicked my shoes off, but not until after getting a brief orientation to everything; a list of phone numbers, including hers, a laminated, four page, 8½ by 11 inch manual constructed of thick paper with all kinds of instructions about everything; how to operate the telephones, the computer system, which was wireless so that I could also use my laptop; TVs, thermostat and some cautionary words about exposure to tropical sun when using the pool and so on.
I just wanted to go to sleep and was relieved when she finally left …assuring me that she would stay on the property, just a couple of minutes away, for the next day or so to make sure I didn’t need anything and pointed to her alternate phone number while she was here …and made me agree that I would call her if I needed anything.