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Day 56: Secrets and Lies

5/31/2015

When I was about five I spent some afternoons with my dad as he worked. He was a computer consultant, helping various offices and companies with their computer systems. While he worked, I twirled on office chairs till I got dizzy and fiddled with staplers and paperclips.

One afternoon, Dad was particularly focused on fixing a computer issue, when a woman who worked in the office sidled up to me. She had a small, green box of chocolate cookies, which she quickly slid into my pocket. “Shhh...don’t tell your dad. This will be our secret,” she whispered conspiratorially, winking with smile. For the next thirty minutes, I carefully snuck out cookies, and quietly ate them, afraid of my dad discovering what I was doing.

Through this rather innocent experience, something began taking shape in me. Secrets. Deception. I started to believe that there was excitement and power in a lie. And it all started with a small box of cookies and a wink.

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Day 55: 'Ohana

5/30/2015

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For most of my childhood, I lived in a neighborhood called Kula Mala on the island of Maui in Hawaii.

All of the family-owned land was purchased many years earlier by my great-grandfather, Henry. He had founded one of Maui’s first construction companies. Along with building the 59 bridges along the island’s Hana Highway, Henry had the foresight to buy lots of valuable land before prices became astronomical. He liked the cool climate and beautiful views of Kula, which was halfway up the 10,000-foot Haleakala volcano. So that’s where his children and their children laid down roots. Our home was nestled at the topmost cul-de-sac of Kula Mala, along with the homes of several aunts, uncles, and cousins.

Living in the same neighborhood with so much extended family meant that our lives were naturally integrated together. Every birthday and holiday was celebrated with each other. We all knew each other’s business. It was typical for an aunt to call my mom, asking something like, “Did you know Larissa got in trouble today at school?” News spreads fast on a small island.

After school, all of us cousins played together. We chased each other on bikes, build half a tree house in the backyard, and got busted for eating all of the neighbor’s blackberries.

One afternoon was spent creating a large “soup” in a pot we discovered in my aunt’s garden. We filled the pot with hose water, dirt, leaves, bugs, and several chili peppers. Of course we had to give it a taste test, so we forced Jesse, our youngest cousin, to drink a spoonful. Then we all got into major trouble after my aunt discovered what we had done. Since I was the eldest, I always received the brunt of the blame.

Now, making our way into adulthood, most of us have moved from Kula Mala to other places. Some have spouses and kids, others are venturing into new careers.

The big annual trek home for all of us is Christmas. We still gather together at my aunt’s house, falling back into natural laughter and conversations, over familiar food like Popo’s Chinese pretzels and my aunt’s apple chocolate chip bread.

When we are together, it is our ‘ohana, our experience of being bound together as a family.

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Day 54: Dreamers

5/29/2015

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It was late at night when we decided to spontaneously drive off the road and into an empty field near the airport.

With the van parked under the starry sky, we climbed on top of the front hood, and lay down to watch the airplanes fly overhead. In typical high school fashion, our conversations swirled around frustrations, hopes, and dreams.

In that moment, all was right, nothing else mattered, and we were invincible.

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Day 53: School Discipline

5/28/2015

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I don’t remember much about the first grade, other than how cruel our teacher was. I don’t even remember his name, but maybe that’s because my mind put up a protective barrier.

He had a stern presence. Most days in his class were typical - he taught lessons, we nodded as we followed along. We all knew to obey the commanding authority of the teacher. But one girl in the class, Cynthia, got on the teacher’s nerves. One day, Cynthia was caught whispering to the student sitting next to her. The teacher yelled, “Hey! You need to shut-chyo mout!” When he got angry, his Hawaiian Pidgin English dialect tumbled out. Cynthia quieted down. But several minutes later, we all heard the teacher shout again. “What did I tell you? Shut it!” Cynthia’s mouth was open in mid-sentence.

We all went wide-eyed as the teacher grabbed Cynthia by her arm, and made her stand in front of the class. He rummaged through his desk, and drew out a large roll of masking tape. “Dis will teach you,” he muttered. He tore off a piece of tape, and stuck it over Cynthia’s mouth. He added another piece of tape to create an "X" on her face. Then, for good measure, he took a longer piece of tape, and wrapped it completely around her head. Tears were running down over the tape on her face. She was made to stand there on display for the rest of the morning period. I wondered how painful it was going to be when the tape was removed from her skin and hair. But I also knew that the residual emotional pain was going to be far worse.

After school, I went home and reported to my mom what had happened. Concerned and angry parent phone calls were made. The teacher got reprimanded by the school. Cynthia was transferred to a different first grade class. Those of us who remained in his class learned to listen intently and follow instructions, and simply tried to survive the rest of first grade.

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Day 52: The Call of the Wild

5/27/2015

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One summer we went on a family camping trip to California’s Pyramid Lake, joined by my brother Stuart. The kids, ages 4 and 2, were excited to play in nature and eat s’mores. The campground was filled with individual sites, where other groups and families had set up tents and grills and folding chairs.

After a long day in the sun, we settled into our tent for the night. Steve and I had an inflatable mattress, while Stuart and the kids were nearby in sleeping bags on the ground.

We had all been asleep for a while when I was startled awake by a shout, “Mommy, mommy!”

It was Aaron, and his distressed voice was outside of the tent. I immediately leapt up, and barreled out of the tent. It was pitch black, and in my haste I had forgotten to grab a flashlight. But Aaron’s voice, still calling out, “Mommy!” kept me focused on rescuing my son. All I could think was that he had wandered out into the dark wilderness, and didn’t know how to get back to our tent. As far as I could tell, his voice was coming from a distance, where there was a mass of shrubs and vines. “Aaron! Mommy’s here. Just stay where you are!” I called out. By now, Stuart was also searching in the dark.

With each passing second, I got more frantic. Where was Aaron? He kept yelling, “Mommy!” Again, I shouted, “I’m coming!” But when I got to where his voice seemed to be coming from, all I could make out in the dark was more bushes and a tent belonging to some nearby campers.

I was about to lose my mind when Stuart found me, saying “Larissa! Larissa!” “Where’s Aaron? Did you find him?” I asked. Stuart grabbed me firmly by the shoulders, “LARISSA. He’s safe and sleeping. Inside the tent.” What? Huh? Now I felt like I was really going crazy. Stuart led me back to our tent, and pointed inside. There, sleeping peacefully on the floor, were both the kids. Aaron was not lost outside in the dark. He hadn’t even left the tent.

It turned out that the kid shouting was actually in the tent at the next site over, sad because his mom had left to go to the bathroom. We all crawled back into our own tent, relieved that all was well and everyone was safe.

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Day 56: Secrets and Lies

Day 55: 'Ohana

Day 54: Dreamers

Day 53: School Discipline

Day 52: The Call of the Wild

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