Status Updates From This Is Paradise: Stories

We pretend that, if on vacation ourselves, we would act differently—hike Koko Head, attend a bon dance, visit the Palace and learn about the Hawaiian monarchy—but deep down , we know we’d do the same as they: venture no further than the nearest Starbucks.

We’d like to tell them the real Hawai’i is elsewhere, hidden in the karaoke bars on King Street and on Waimānalo’s ranch lands, in the view of the Mokes from Pillboxes and along the beach by Dillingham Air Strip, the portion of North Shore where only locals camp.

Loved it. Beautifully written!

Understand that your grandmother is in heaven now, and heaven has fighting cocks and Heineken, poi and dried ahi, your uncles' teasing and your aunties' cooking and your cousins laughing with you when you talk. Heaven is them acting like this is where you belong, and if that's what haole pastors call hell, then thank God you finally got here.