Pearl Harbor

 My dad was stationed in Honolulu, at Pearl Harbor, in the Navy from 1958 to 1960.  His ship was called the U.S.S. Ponchatula.  He shipped out to the Philippines and Japan, Midway, Okinawa, all over the South Pacific and Pacific Rim.  Then in between, he lived in Honolulu, driving his fast Jaguar around the island.  Who knows what trouble he got into!?  My mom stayed in Honolulu a few times too, when she was a stewardess with Pan Am.  Her home base was San Francisco.

 We planned to get to Pearl Harbor early in the morning, and we were among the first groups to go in.  Dad woke us up before dawn with "Revele!  Revele!  All hands heave out and thrice up!"  Fitting for a visit to a Navy ship, but he did it all the time when we were kids.  He also tried to get us to have "Navy showers" if we were in a hurry.  Short and cold!

 At the monument, there was a short film about the events of December 7, 1941.  It was excellent, although Dad said he thought it was "too soft" on the Japanese side of the conflict.  We then took a boat across the water to the actual monument, which is positioned over the wreckage of the USS Arizona.  Since the whole ship was filled with oil when it wa blown up, the wreckage is still leaking oil from every pore, so to speak. 80 years later, it still bubbles up.

 Seeing the monument really drove home parallels between Pearl Harbor and 9-11.  All of these young men who lost their lives, together on the same day.  The events of that day are so chilling.  What is even more chilling is to contrast the vast military preparations and capabilities that the Japanese needed to pull off the attack in 1941 (hundreds of planes), compared to the four planes and 11 pilots who carried out 9-11.  In any case, the monument at Pearl Harbor is somber yet airy, full of light, yet positioned atop a mass grave.  Some of the survivors have chosen to have their ashes buried with their shipmates in the wreckage, the most recent in 2012.  That's a powerful testimony of the bonds between soldiers.

 Diving to take an urn to the wreckage.

 Dad bought all of us tickets to tour the USS Missouri.  Thanks, Dad!  What a neat experience.  This battleship was built during WWII, later retired, then brought back for Desert Storm.  It is the ship on whose deck the Japanese signed their surrender.  Several states wanted the Missouri to have her final resting place within their borders.  Senator Daniel Inoye was instrumental in getting the Missouri to Hawaii, where she could rest across the harbor from the USS Arizona memorial.  It lends a symmetry to have the Arizona representing the beginning of the war and the Missouri representing the end of the war, both there together.  It makes sense.

 LDS missionaries from Layton.  Every week, a group of them cleans at the Missouri.  I love that they have the opportunity to do service like that.

 We got to walk all over the ship as Dad reminisced about ship life.  He said some of the smells evoked memories.  I am proud of my dad for serving in the military, and even more proud of him for how close to his heart he holds that service.  He is proud to be a Navy man, and now I know even better what it means to him, having seem his home port and caught a glimpse into his experience.

 Our tour guide Emily led us to the stadium swap meet after our patriotic morning, where we bought some souvenirs for the kids.  Fun and cheap!  On the way to Waikiki after, we happened upon the Honolulu tabernacle, which my dad thought had been torn down.  They were doing repairs, but it was still very much there.  Since Dad remembered going to church there, we couldn't pass up the chance to go inside and walk the manicured grounds.

 A very Scandinavian Jesus for the islands, huh?  Impressive mosaic, though.  Interestingly, Scott and I had just shown our Sunday School class a conference talk where the guy talked extensively about this tabernacle, and exploring it as a young boy.  Synchronicity!

 Josh and Emily and Trajan and Mic had gone to hike Diamondhead, and I got stuck with the gimpy group.  Dad's ankle is bad, Scott's foot was freaking out and Mom had her tailbone thing going, so we opted to lunch on the terrace at the Surf Rider instead of hiking.  Man, I got in the right group!  ha ha.  These wonton poke nachos with sriachi mayo, seaweed and guacamole were to die for.  You just don't get enough raw ahi tuna in Utah.  I had my fill at this meal!  Mmmmmmmmmmmm!

 Pineapple bread pudding.  We lived it up.  Now I'm sad.  Take me back!

 There is a military hotel in Waikiki, Hale Koa, and bad ankle be damned, Dad wanted to see it.  I walked down the beach a ways with him while Mom and Scott relaxed at the Royal Hawaiian.

 Mom bought this tourist shirt when her chic all-black Parisian travel outfit got too hot.  Tee hee!  Anything goes on the islands!  Mom, you fit right in!

 Can you just see this hottie as a young stewardess for Pan Am, staying right here at this hotel?

 And then there's this hottie.  We don't know what to say...

 Later, snorkeling with this guy.  Who knows if this is the same day?  They all run together.  This is an endangered Hawaiian Monk Seal.  They are protected and solitary, so you have to leave them alone if they come up on shore to nap. There was yellow caution tape all around his nap area.

 Snorkeling panicked me at first with the breathing, but I finally got the hang of it.

 OK, look how happy Emily is withe her coconut shrimp and her giant, greasy burger and homemade fries.  And how sad Trajan is with his yogurt cup.  I rest my case for food that's greasy and delicious. ;)But in case you needed more visual proof...

One of the books I read on the trip was this "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff in Your Family" I found at the house.  It was the perfect thing,  I actually took away some good tips.  I love this chapter, "Allow white space in your calendar."  This whole week was "white space," even if Scott and I got ribbed for being too on the go.  Hey, I read 3 and a half books.  I must have relaxed somewhere in there!  Look, I even have a picture of it. :)  And we hung out with a lot of locals at 7-11 and at the beach in the early morning, watching the sunrise.  That's not too Type-A, right?  Best way to absorb the culture.  Although I'm not sure if the homeless demographic is necessarily indicative of the norm.  "Uncle" and Todd and their "ohana" were super nice, though.  Todd shared some home made donuts with me one morning while I waited for Scott.  Nothing more romantic than an ocean sunrise with a homeless Hawaiian over a homemade donut out of a ziploc that I prayed he didn't make himself with his grimy fingernails.  And then there was Uncle, the black sheep of his Mormon Polynesian family.  Hey, there's a paradigm I didn't expect to encounter in Laie.

Wow, I digress.  Have I mentioned how much we loved every second of this trip?  And to think our 7-11 friends are still there, doing their thing, living their lives without us, that blue South Pacific water lapping at their feet.  How come they're so lucky?