Eddie Would Go: The Story of Eddie Aikau, Hawaiian Hero
This is the story of a hero, a man whose legend has become larger than life. Eddie Aikau dedicated his life to saving the lives of others, the thrills of big waves, becoming one with the ocean, and staying true to his cultural roots. Sadly, this drive would not only lead him to live his life, but also bring it to a sad but heroic conclusion.
I enjoyed learning the story behind the man, as well as much of the culture of the Hawaiian Islands, and a glimpse of Island life. Coleman's writing, however, to me was lacking some of the polish I wished for and became repetitive in many parts. Despite this, I'm glad I took the time to read this and capture some of the spirit of Aloha. For Eddie, family wasn't limited to those he was related to, but rather it extended to all who came to know him, and perhaps even to those who meet him through learning about his legendary life.
Following are many quotes I've saved to remind me for later when this is discussed at my local book club:
"I think most of us wish if we had a chance to die a certain way, it would be doing something great like what he was doing. Obviously, it was a sad way to see him go but almost a fitting end to the way he lived his life. Being lost in the ocean is tragic, but it's also romantic at the same time" (quoting Kelly Slater, p. 10).
"'At a deeper level, Eddie tried to rescue not only the crew of the Hokule'a but the symbolism and dignity of the canoe because he knew it carried the pride of his people. Twenty-five years later, he's still navigating all of us in the voyaging community. He reminds us what our destination is and why we continue to sail. In the end, Eddie's story is about hope and healing'" (quoting Nainoa Thompson, p. 10).
". . . Surfers have to overcome their fears and natural tendency to panic. 'You gotta be relaxed and believe it's mind over matter. But we're all human, and it gets to the point where your mind realizes that there's too much matter out there. . . . Wipeouts are actually like the highest point of your life—dealing with death, trying to survive, trying not to panic'" (p. 18).
"He describes surfing at Waimea with an almost religious reverence for its power. 'It's kind of like being in a big cathedral. Everything is just magnified, and you can feel the spirit flowing through you'" (p. 18).
"Eddie was a true waterman. For me, a waterman is someone who has great respect for the ocean. The ocean is my educator, teaching me many things" (p. 19).
"Eddie's whole Hawaiianness is like dropping a rock in a pond, creating ripples that affect everyone around the world. Our culture is about protecting life" (p. 19).
"To help someone in need and not expect anything back was what Eddie was all about" (p. 20).
"'Man is merely the caretaker of the land that maintains his life and nourishes his soul. Therefore, the 'aina is sacred. The church of life is not in a building, it is the open sky, the surrounding ocean, the beautiful soil. . . .'" (quoting George Helm) (p. 23).
"Despite the teasing and competition, there was a lot of animosity between the brothers, mostly because Pops forbid it. Each month Pops would gather everyone together for a family meeting to work out any disagreements or resentments. This was a tradition in Hawai'i called ho'oponopono (to make right), and no one could leave the table until the matter had been hashed out and resolved. Whenever arguments or sibling rivalries arose, these meetings helped the family deal with the divisive issues, bringing them closer together. 'I think that's the key,' Myra says, 'You've got to talk with each other. I think that's why it works so well in our family. My dad had that meeting every month since we were five. I would say our prayers and then, boom, we'd talk'" (p. 30).
"Since the coming of the missionaries in 1820, the name of God to our people has been aloha. . . . In other words, aloha is God. Aloha is the power of God seeking to unite what is separated in the world—the power that unites heart with heart, soul with soul, life with life, culture with culture, race with race, nation with nation" (Reverend Dr. Abraham Akaka) (p. 33).
"'I've got some money now, a couple of houses I own, but I'll tell you those years when you got nothing seem to be some of the happiest. How much money do you really need to make you happy?'" (Clyde Aikau) (p. 35).
"What they lacked in money, they would earn in respect" (p. 39).
"'Eddie's the only guy I know even today who will take off on a monster wave and still have a smile on his face,' Clyde says, . . . 'It wasn't just the idea of him paddling into it, it was a matter of him taking off on impossible waves that nobody could make, that nobody could dream of making, but somehow time after time, he would make the impossible waves'" (p. 59).
"'He was a Hawaiian Adonis in that he had the Hawaiian surfing style which is nothing like the Californians or Australians, who are frenetic—they are attacking the wave and tearing it apart, trying to dominate it. Whereas the Hawaiians, especially Eddie, became totally a part of the wave, and you could feel the vibrations of understanding, love, and compassion Eddie had for every wave he rode.' Fred says Eddie had an intimate relationship with the ocean and together they formed a perfect union" (Fred Van Dyke) (p. 60)
"'In Hawai'i we greet friends, loved ones and strangers with aloha, which means love. Aloha is the key word to the universal spirit of real hospitality, which makes Hawai'i renowned as the world's center of understanding and fellowship'" (on the back of Duke Kahanamoku's business card) (p. 73).
"Some say Eddie Aikau shared Duke's generosity, humility and proud Hawaiian spirit. Van Dyke goes even further: 'I described Eddie once at one of the meets as the re-creation of Duke Kahanamoku because Duke likes him a lot too. They were the greatest of athletes. He had the same kind of chest and arms. He had the Hawaiian strength which is almost foreboding. Duke was more of a simple man, and I think Eddie was a simple person in his life. He didn't want complications. He got them, but he didn't want them.' Eddie sought to simplify his life, focusing on family, friends, music and surfing" (p. 73-74).
"But as Clyde and most lifeguards know, you should never turn your back to the sea. This is not only out of respect for the god of the ocean, who can be fickle and dangerous, but it is also practical precaution. Like any experienced waterman, Duke knew what what could happen when you took your eye off the sea or underestimated its power.
'I will never understand the stupidity of people who turn their backs on the ocean,' Eddie once complained to a newspaper columnist. 'People who have no knowledge of the danger the ocean threatens will walk right into it backwards while snapping pictures of their family. One wave and—ZAP—they are grabbed and sucked out in seconds. And worse, still, is the guy who won't let go of his camera, but keeps it high over his head while he is drowning'" (p. 75).
"'Surfing big waves is all about overcoming fear,' Howe says. He remembers seeing swells so big his throat constricted and he could barely breathe. 'Fear paralyzes and fear causes hesitation, and fear is something that we all have. . . So every year, if you're going to surf big waves, you have to go through a process of mentally and physically preparing yourself. The physical part is relatively simple—you have to be fit, you swim, you run. But the mental part is a lot more challenging because you have to revisit those old fears and you have to overcome them. If you look at a guy like Eddie, here's a guy who did that year in and year out. It takes a lot of courage to do that. Some people are fearless because they use drugs. They block that out through drugs and alcohol. I think Butch Van Artsdalen was a good example of that. The guy was fearless because he was totally wacked all the time. Gerry Lopez conquered that fear through meditation and found that inner peace and grace to stand there in the eye of the hurricane.' . . . For Lopez, being inside the' green room' behind a silver curtain of water was a better high than any drug or drink could ever create. He had quit drinking and just focused on his surfing. While Butch was spinning out of control, Gerry came to embody the pure and graceful spirit of soul surfing" (p. 88).
"'. . . You have to have the best knowledge and skill there is to work at Waimea. Not just better than average, or superior, but the best. This is the ultimate for people getting in danger. It's not like Waikiki.' Referring to the military guys who wouldn't heed his warnings, Eddie shared his frustrations. 'The service guys give us the most business. There's a whole bunch of guys. They want to prove a point. Some cannot even bodysurf that good, but they still go out. Pretty soon they're yelling,' Help! Help! Help!' I bring them in and they always say the same thing: 'I didn't know the current was that strong'" (p. 91).
"Eddie admitted that there were times when he wondered why he risked his life to save people who didn't heed his warnings or even thank him for his help. 'A lot of times when I go out, I think, why am I sacrificing myself? Those people who are being saved are helpless. I trust myself. I think I can get out of the water. But they are helpless. I can't see a helpless person go down. I can't stay here and do nothing.' Like a fireman instinctively rushing into a burning building, Eddie would throw himself into waves that looked like collapsing glass towers" (p. 91).
"'Surfing is not really a contest in its natural state. You go out surfing to ride the waves. It's kind of like a dance, a communication between yourself and the ocean. And the object is to achieve harmony with that manifestation of nature.' Neither he nor Eddie liked being in big contests, but Jones said they were forced to learn. 'I had the surfing talent, but you have to fit that into the competitive structure. You've got 45 minutes to catch the three best waves. There's a whole strategy going on. All that jazz. I never really enjoyed competing. But I loved to surf, and the only way I could see continuing to surf was to support myself in the sport'" (quoting James Jones on being a 'soul surfer', p. 122).
". . . The highlight of the evening would be when Momma Aikau performed. 'Mom was next to a deity—those boys really worshipped their mother. When Mom sang, it was a treat. You considered yourself blessed if she got up to sing the old Hawaiian songs.' Singing in a melodious language that was hardly spoken anymore, her soft voice would bring to life a peaceful vision of the islands as they once were—and would never be again. Her sons would accompany her with tears in their eyes, and every one at the party would grow quiet as a music settled over them like a soft mist, transporting them to the past. 'It was life altering having that experience,' Kathy says quietly, lost in memories of that time“ (p. 128).
"Eddie probably felt embarrassed and uncomfortable with this sudden role reversal—after all, he was the one who was supposed to help other hapless victims in the surf. But as any lifeguard knows, the ocean is the most unpredictable entity in the world and can catch even the most experienced watermen off-guard. It can kill without warning" (p. 134).
"Worse than any physical injury was the debilitating disease of fear. As a big-wave rider, Eddie knew that if he gave into his fears, he could easily die in such huge surf. If he hesitated for a moment during the take-off, the lip of the wave would catapult him into the air and slam him against the water. As a legendary surfer once put it, big waves were not measured in feet but in increments of fear. As Eddie dropped down the faces of these enormous waves, he understood that he had to overcome each increment of fear with a grater degree of courage or else it would overcome him. Surfing became a metaphor for his life: Eddie had to regain his balance and find the natural flow, or he was going to wipe out all over again. In this way, he rediscovered the danger and thrill of riding mountainous waves" (p. 134-135).
"James shared Eddie's belief that safety and friendship were more important than competition. . ." (p. 137).
"Like the sirens' song, the roaring surf at Waimea Bay had an almost irresistible appeal to surfers eager to prove themselves in the world's largest waves. From the shore, the swells often look beautiful and inviting, but out in the lineup, surfers discovered just how deadly and destructive they could be. Young daredevils and experienced big-wave riders alike would fall for Waimea's seductive charms. Then, in that moment of truth after a terrible wipeout, they would find themselves swimming for their lives to avoid being crushed on the rocks. Eddie had been there and knew how bad it could be. He cautioned younger surfers about the dangers of the Bay and shared his wave knowledge with them" (p. 139).
"Kimo gave away his boards and vowed never to go out at Waimea. 'That was it. I never surfed big waves again,' he says. 'I figured you don't get a second chance. Something that could be so innocent and fun can just turn so deadly'" (p. 143).
"'The wipeout is the ultimate in showing you what a fool you are, in showing you how vulnerable you are. The wipeout puts you on that edge where the most important thing is not the mortgage you have or the money you have or the cars or anything—it's getting one tiny little breath of air'" (Fred Van Dyke, p. 144).
"Fred says it was his friend Peter Cole who had originally pushed him to overcome his fears and ride the biggest waves. 'You either attack fear or you retreat from it, and Peter attacks fear. It was his presence that stoked me to become a much better big-wave rider'" (p. 144).
"Depending on the wind and the ocean's fickle moods, the waves could vary from season to season, day to day, and even hour to hour. Each swell had its own personality and musical rhythm. They could be gentle and flowing like Hawaiian songs, rough and fast like rock 'n roll, in predictable and funky like jazz, or powerful and ominous like a classical symphony building to a thunderous crescendo" (p. 148).
"Jose had a reputation of being fearless in the water and on land, but he was still a man of flesh, blood and nerves. He didn't seem to recognize that fear is an integral part of living, as Eddie would soon discover, and to deny it was to flirt with death" (p. 153).
"Like most surfers, Eddie took his personal problems to the sea in hopes that the waves would wash them away" (p. 159).
'The life of the land is perpetuated in righteousness" (quoting Kamehameha III, p. 165).
"They (Eddie and many Hawaiians) rediscovered a lost pride in their heritage, but they also became enraged over their cultural oppression" (p. 166).
"Beadie Dawson goes on to say that traditional Hawaiians didn't believe that owning the land was possible or important. 'What was of importance was the 'ohana, the family. Hawaiians are basically a very inclusive people,' she says. 'We hav been from day one. We never chased anyone from our shores—we welcomed everyone, and we still do. The tradition of hanai is typical of the way Hawaiians welcome people, not just to the Islands but into our homes, into our hearts and into our families.' Gerry Lopez says that's exactly how the Aikaus lived. 'That was the true aloha spirit,' he says. 'I guess that's what happened to the Hawaiian people—they gave and gave until it was all gone. It's kind of sad'" (p. 166).
" Ua mau, ke ea o ka aina, i ka pono, o Hawai'i
Ua mau, ke ea o ka aina, i ka pono, o Hawai'i
(The Life of the Land is Perpetuated in Righteousness)
If just for a day our king and queen
Would visit all these islands and saw everything
How would they feel about the changes of our land
Could you just imagine if they were around
And saw highways on their sacred grounds
How would they feel about this modern city life
Tears would come from each others eyes
As they would stop to realize
That our people are in great great danger now
How, would they feel, could their smiles be content, then cry
Cry for the gods, cry for the people
Cry for the land that was taken away
And then yet you'll find, Hawai'i
Could you just imagine they came back
And saw traffic lights and railroad tracks
How would they feel about this modern city life
Tears would come from each others eyes
As they would stop to realize
That our land is in great great danger now
All the fighting that the king had done
To conquer all these islands now these condominiums
How would he feel if he saw Hawai'i nei
How, would he feel, would his smile be content, then cry
Ua mau, ke ea o ka aina, i ka pono, o Hawai'i
Ua mau, ke ea o ka aina, i ka pono, o Hawai'i"
(quoting "Hawai'i '78" by Israel Kamakawiwoʻole, p. 165-167, more than in book quoted from music lyrics found online)
"Herb Kane quickly led the charge in trying to take control of the voyaging canoe and make it a cultural symbol. 'It's a shared icon of mutuality and ancestry and a reminder of the courage, intelligence and grit of our ancestors,' he says" (p. 172-173).
"John Kruse remembers how the fight and dissension infuriated Mau and eventually drove him away from the project. 'On the trip, Mau said your problems on the canoe when you when you do deep-sea voyaging, those little problems that everyone takes for granted and that we can always walk away from on land, those little problems become big problems at sea. So you have to think as one big family, and if you make it, you're going to make it as a family; and if you die or get lost at sea, you're gonna die as one family. Some guys get stir-crazy when they can't see the land. The ocean can be unforgiving.' After selling together for almost 2,500 miles, they had made it as a family of sorts, but it was a bitter and divided one" (p. 179).
". . . Eddie's cultural roots as a Hawaiian helped shape his instincts as a sailor, surfer and waterman. 'We may live in America, but socially and culturally, we live in Polynesia, and Polynesian culture centers around the ocean. They were the greatest water people in the world. And for them to be here in Hawai'i meant that they were the best of the best because this was the farthest inland chain they had to travel to. Before the Hawaiian Renaissance these ocean skills were devalued, but people like the Aikaus kept up those traditions and made a bridge to the past. For me, it goes back to this tradition through thousands of years of trying to understand the ocean. It's this huge body of knowledge that's passed on from generation to generation. It's a knowledge of the most dynamic environment on Earth since the ocean is always changing its moods. That's the essence of being a waterman, having the knowledge and confidence to do anything you want in the ocean. There's a lot of signs if you know what to look for'" (quoting Jim Howe, p. 182).
"'Rage, rage against the dying of the light'" (Dylan Thomas, p. 185).
"According to his son Brian, Buffalo Keaulana calls these violent, Hawaiian radicals 'coconuts' because they are 'brown on the outside and white on the inside.' As a lifeguard trainer, Brian tells his young Hawaiian counterparts to avoid this kind of reverse racism and hypocracy. 'Make sure you practice your culture before you start preaching to someone else'" (p. 193).
"'The thoughts of man are like caves whose interiors one cannot see" (Hawaiian proverb, p. 197).
"What drove Eddie to put his life on the line, knowing that one bad wipeout could be the end? 'He was not trying to risk his life for defy death,' Linda says, still trying to understand enigmatic husband. 'It was a way for him to feel worthy. He wanted to achieve something for the Hawaiian people'" (p. 198).
(More quotes in comments. Goodreads has a character limit! Who knew?!?)