Jack, Jake, Betty (Tags) and no memory

This weekend I was again reminded why I moved to Hawaii in 1977 and never really left. I mean really...where do you go from here?

The morning started out with a few light showers and as we drove, the showers turned into rainbows and then sunshine and then sunshine and tradewinds.

If that wasn't enough our event at Kapiolani Park was combined with a Starbucks sponsored event (yes, that meant $1 cups of coffee) and music that came like mana from heaven by way of the 37th annual Uku lele festival.

People kept coming and coming and coming. On the lawn surrounding the open pavillion they set up their tents and put down lauhala mats. They brought their little hibachi's and coolers. They met with friends and family. They brought the keikis. But most of all today, they brought their ukuleles.

Music filled the air.

It was so pleasant, sipping Starbucks, selling Betty Tags and listening to Danny Kalikini as he sang and introduced one group after another, all on stage and filling the air with incredible sounds.

Then something changed.

There was a different sound.

I turned to a customer and said "How weird! Why are they putting on a CD in the middle of a live music festival?"

And he said "That isn't a CD. It's really him."

"It can't be him, " I said. "I have no memory left on my camera!"

"It can't be him," I said. "Not today!"

But it was him...and this is all I got...

(on the back of an ABC store receipt.)


And then there was more wonderful music from sweet Japanese voices and baritone manly men and then it happened again. A sound that was heaven sent. It couldn't possibly be coming from a little ukulele. It sounded more like a full orchestra. But it can't be happening again. I have no memory on my camera! I got only this...



(On the back of another ABC store receipt.)

Luckily for me, I don't need a memory chip in my brain just quite yet.

Luckily for me, even though I don't have the photos - I'll still keep this memory in my head for hopefully a very long time.

Mahalo Jack.






Mahalo Jake.