The moment I saw her, I fell hopelessly in love. She was on full, naked display just outside the window of the plane bringing me here for the first time. I traveled to Kauai, because living in the high desert country of New Mexico for fifteen years had begun to dry me out, feeling dangerously brittle at times. I always had a fabulous relationship with that magical part of the country. It freed me to be, but my time there had come to an end.
I was born in New York City, growing up in the occasionally green borough of Queens. We had trees and lawns and lots of streets. I never thought about the idea of loving where you live, because that was never number one on the route to success; besides, that’s what you did on your two week vacation. My move from the City was monumentally difficult on too many levels, impacting the lives of two young boys I loved and still do.
I arrived in Santa Fe and moved into a small adobe home I had bought on a short visit, several months before. It was a little semi-circle of an earth ship womb, the back built into the side of a hill and the front, with a view of endless desert and sky. I belonged to that piece of land and it embraced me like a lost child. I understood how important place is for me and I did some good stuff as a way of showing my gratitude while I was there.
I originally left the City, because I was afraid I was going to die there. I was feeling hollow inside and the idea of a complete break with all that was familiar, seemed like an opportunity to kind of start over. I was fearless and don’t have the vaguest idea where that came from. Faith would be about the best word for it. I needed to be on a journey. It is how my soul would come alive.
From the time we first met, this island felt like a part of me. We developed a very private rapport and I never asked too many questions. I would be the last person to dare speak on her behalf, because I have no right. We even broke up for a while, because I took her for granted. I cut all my ties and moved to Costa Rica, confusing place with journey. After four very long days, I flew back into the arms of my Kauai.
Here is where I run into my problem. I have something I want to talk with you about, but it would be incredibly easy for me to sound like an asshole. I am not authorized to speak for Kauai. I have no credentials, genetic or academic. I am a seventy something, Jewish guy from Queens, living here fifteen years and I am going to tell you what I think is best for this place? I hope you can see my challenge here.
Within the past few months, I have often found myself passionately engaged in conversations regarding the future of this island. Let me say, I am in complete agreement with what I am about to share, so I know there is at least one of us. I am an inveterate marketer and I kept trying to think of a word or a phrase that would be the engine driving my ideas forward.
The word is Kuleana.
I have always had real difficulty appropriating Hawaiian words into my vocabulary or using pidgin’, because I wasn’t comfortable doing it. I try to be respectful. However, I can’t think of a better one that fits this place at this time. When you look it up, you will know it’s one of those fabulous words meant to bring out the best in us.
Oh Christ, here goes.
Kauai is a tiny island in the Pacific, with a history of prideful independence, its Kuleana. Like so many other places in the world, Hawaii was a creation of convenience, carved out by the empire du jour. I am trying to think as if I am someone completely loyal to Kauai and only Kauai. Whether you are a permanent guest like me or your lineage traces back to royalty, we are all in this together. I want you try and think about this, please.
The Spring flooding on the north shore caused us to take a harsh look at ourselves and what we are in danger of becoming. Business as usual will see this place destroyed and there is no doubt. There will be more visitors than residents. Its beauty will be scarred by too many footprints. The Hawaiian culture will become nothing more than a curiosity. Weather anomalies like the flooding are warning signs regarding climate change and how incredibly vulnerable we are, especially if we do nothing.
We can let these challenges fracture us further or we can come together. We are meant to relive the legacy of Kauai and seems to me like the time is now. It is our Kuleana.