Aloha!

This post is about Hawaii. Bear with me. It will get there eventually.

As a kid, I was never really very cool. I'm sure that's no surprise. In fact, I'm sure those of you reading this who know me a little to a lot well are thinking "he thinks he's cool now?" Well, no, I don't. Not particularly. But I know I'm way more so now than I was growing up, either in my homeland of England or (after mid-1979) here in my adopted home of the United States. In fact, I was pretty much a complete wreck on the cool-ness meter here in the States. Just way too uptight. I'm fine with it. Really, I am. It's OK.

But if I was a complete spaz here in the U.S., I have to say growing up in England I can point to a couple of instances where I felt like I was really the bees' knees (yes, I'm using deliberately antiquated terminology here; even more so than my 47 years on this planet warrant) in my circle of friends and in my class at school. And both times I felt this way were probably my mom's doing and they are both related to her buying me clothing. Now, I hate admitting that my mother dressing me made me cooler, because that sort of thing inherently makes me way less cool. But whatever. It's true.

When I was about 10 or so years old, my mom discovered a store in our hometown that would iron on graphic images to shirts. You bought a t-shirt or sweatshirt, selected the picture you wanted and presto! you had your very own custom designed shirt. My mom decided my sister and I should have one each. I know this process seems ho hum today and when we got to the U.S., we'd find these things all over the place but in England in the late '70s, this was a revelation. When my mom asked me what sort of shirt I wanted, I selected a black sweatshirt and instead of a graphic on the front, added a number on the back. I think my mom was confused. But it worked for me. And within a few months about four or five other kids in my neighborhood had similar shirts. I was a fashion trendsetter for the first and (probably) last time in my life. Woo hoo!

That story has nothing to do with this blog or this post. It's just context. I tell you that story so I can tell you this one...

A couple of years before I started wearing my ultra-hip black numbered sweatshirt, my mom found a red University of Hawaii sweatshirt at some store somewhere in some city or town around where we lived and brought it home for me. What on Earth this sweatshirt was doing in late 1970s Britain in a child's size is anyone's guess. It featured the University's seal in either blue or black (can't remember) and just seemed totally authentically American. Best of all, nobody else had anything like it. It was awesome! Sorry, we didn't use awesome back then. It was brilliant!!! I loved it. I remember wearing that sweatshirt a lot. (Mom: don't tell me if that's not true; I don't want to know).

Why was it so cool? Well, if there was one thing when I was growing up that had immediate and undeniable cache with the pre-teen crowd at that time in England, it was America. Blame it on Disney movies and Happy Days I guess. My sweatshirt gave me instant street cred (we didn't use that term then either). It didn't matter that I had no clue what Hawaii meant or that it was an archipelago in the middle of the Pacific Ocean or that it became a territory of the United States as a result of an extremely questionable and likely very unlawful coup backed by an emerging superpower. It was American and it was cool. And so was I. In my mind anyway. I never imagined I'd go to Hawaii one day and I couldn't conceive of what that would mean even if someone told me I would go.

It's now about 40 years later and I still haven't been to Hawaii, but that will change in a few weeks and I can't wait! My impression of Hawaii for the majority of my life has been beaches and luaus and that's about it. If you know me well or at all, you'll know I'm not a beach guy and I likely never will be. And luaus? Well, I guess I'll pass. I get that they have pineapples there and I love pineapple but, come on, I mean that stuff comes in cans at the grocery store right?

Then a little more than 2-1/2 years ago, I made a pledge to visit either Alaska or Hawaii (along with a whole lot of other places) before my 50th birthday and last year I decided it was time to go to one of those places. I picked Hawaii, a place I now expect will be a lot more than beaches and luaus and pineapple, although I am going to beaches and a luau and I expect there will be some pineapple in there somewhere.

Since I started this blog, I have never written a pre-visit introduction for a trip within the United States. Until now. That's because Hawaii, it seems, will be like no other place I have been in this country or really ever in my life. After learning a tiny little bit about those islands in the middle of the biggest ocean on Earth, I can't believe I don't need to take my passport with me. It seems so foreign.

I found an old Hawaiian postcard on ebay a few days ago and I've included the front and back of that card in this post. I expect my experience in the next month will be quite different than what the picture on the card seems to represent. Jack's trip to Hawaii 51 years ago was intended to put him back on his feet again, whatever that means. I hope my trip will be as transformative as Jack hoped a half century ago. Onward!