Prelude

Today I attempted to apply for a Hawai‘i driver’s license—no dice—and successfully registered my firearm. It turns out one is more difficult than the other, and although Hawai‘i is widely (and legitimately) considered to be unfriendly territory with respect to Second Amendment issues, firearm registration was not the difficult one.

There’s been a change in state law with respect to driver’s licenses, recently: individuals must present an original (or a copy certified by the agency that issued the original) birth certificate and a Social Security card. Based on the cited law, I think it’s intended to ensure that a Hawai‘i driver’s license is only issued to individuals whose immigration status is “legal,” but I don’t really know. I only know that I do not currently have in my possession either a birth certificate or a Social Security card.

In order to register my firearm—a Kimber Compact Pro Carry 2 chambered in .45 ACP—all I had to do was fill out an application, show my California driver’s license, be fingerprinted, and have my background checked. They didn’t even charge a fee! Granted, it was easier for me because I brought the pistol into the state rather than acquiring it in-state, but still I find it ironic; I can register a firearm more easily than I can acquire a driver’s license.

I’ve requested a new Social Security card and Mom’s sending me a hopefully-adequate certified copy of my birth certificate, so with any luck I’ll be able to take care of the driver’s license on Maui. The firearms registration was the most urgent of the tasks attempted; the law requires a firearm brought into the state be presented and registered within 72 hours of its arrival; I only had one more day to get ’er done.
I also visited the National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific:

The words carved under this figure read, “The solemn pride that must be yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of freedom.” A sober reminder both of how sacred is true liberty, and how costly. This figure looks out at Diamondhead:

I couldn’t frame Diamondhead any better; the iPhone camera is good, but limited. I would very much have appreciated a choice of lenses. Still, beautiful...

Behind the figure is a chapel:

The altar

The rear wall, engraved with “In proud remembrance of the achievements of her sons and in humble tribute to their sacrifices this memorial has been erected by the United States of America: 1941-1945 • 1950-1953 • 1961-1973.”
I found this monument incredibly moving. The cemetery, wonderfully situated in the “Punchbowl” overlooking Diamondhead, is beautifully kept and serene, and a spirit of solemn gravity pervades the place.

This visit is an appropriate prelude to tomorrow’s trip to the Arizona Memorial.

It's a Little Thing, Really...

...only not really.

(I meant to write last night, but instead spent the evening getting my checked bags under 50 pounds each. It would seem I should also have paid attention to the weight of my carry-on—it was 3 pounds heavier than allowed—luckily, the ticket agent let me slide.)

I’m aboard Hawai‘ian Airlines flight HA 3. At the moment I wrote this sentence, we’re about 300 miles out of Los Angeles and 2,300 miles from Honolulu. I feel like an actor offstage between scenes; “...what’s past is prologue,” as Antonio said in The Tempest, and what’s to come is in my discharge.

What’s past is much on my mind, today. My best friend Wayne and his wife (a great good friend) accompanied Mom and me to the airport this morning to see me off. After 12 years treading one path together, Wayne’s path and mine diverge today, and that is a poignant, melancholy truth. Not that we’ll never see one another again—not that we won’t always be friends and collaborators—still, it cannot be denied that this changes things.

Strangely, parting with Mom was easier. I don’t really know why—I love Mom and will certainly miss her—yet somehow it was less difficult to say &ledquo;Aloha” to her.

The last time I looked back before turning my gaze forward (to the TSA check station, and not, alas, toward some “trackless horizon”), all three—Wayne, Margaret, and Mom—had their “game faces” on, and I was wearing mine, too. I didn’t look back after that, though; I thought that a blubbering grown man might look a bit suspicious to the TSA agent, and I knew that one more glance and that would be all she wrote.

Now I am on my way. What’s past is prologue—important and meaningful and never to be dismissed or diminished—my task is to build on it; to build a life worthy of who and what has gone before.

I am, in fact, looking forward toward a metaphorical “trackless horizon”—I am, in fact, facing the most exciting adventure of my life—and I am well aware of how lucky I am to have the family and friends I have; people who have my back and who sometimes heroically support me on my journey, though it cost them dearly.

I can never say mahalo (“Thank you”) enough.

Once I arrive, I’ll immediately apply for my Hawai‘i driver’s license. I’ll get better acquainted with my gracious hosts. I’ll explore O‘ahu for a few days with them as my guides. I’ll take plenty of pictures. I’ll begin the process of making a new life in a new place with new friends and new possibilities...but I will never forget those whose friendships will always be a part of me. This is a change, not an ending.

Aloha is not merely “hello” and “goodbye”—it is love and affection and esteem and compassion and caring. It is a spirit that reminds me of a Hindi greeting: Namasté. Namasté can be understood as, “The Divine in me recognizes and greets the Divine in you.” When The Divine greets the Divine, goodness flows. That is what the Aloha Spirit has always been to me; goodness and good will flowing from person to person. That is why the Islands have been calling me. It is that about Island culture that beguiled me long since.

I don’t know very much about what’s going to happen. I know what island I will live and work on, at least this year. I know at least generally what my job will be. I know the climate will be mild and the scenery beautiful. I know the ocean, my mistress, will be always near. And that’s about it. I don’t know more specifically where I’ll be living or who I’ll meet or just how I’ll spend my free time. I don’t know much of anything at all; don’t even know who I’ll become.

Not knowing is the best part. I’ve challenged the universe: “Surprise me!”

I just filled out the standard form everyone flying into Hawai’i must complete before landing. Always before, I’ve marked “I am a Visitor to Hawai‘i” but this time is different. This time I marked “I am a Intended resident moving to Hawai’i for at least one year.”

It’s a little thing, really...only not really.