We drove north along the coast until we stopped at a restaurant park that would lead us to Waimea Falls. First, we decided to have lunch. I watched a male peacock roaming about in the garden below us. We took several pictures of him when he fanned out his tail for us. What a sight. We took several pictures of him when he fanned out his tail for us and began his famous shrieking call. What a sight. After several annoying screeches we finished eating and walked up the trail to the falls. The sign at the trailhead said, “Waimea means ‘reddish’ due to the iron oxide from the volcanic soil.”
We walked on passed water puddles and beautiful flora. At last, after following a small stream, we found the falls. There we snapped more pictures. The water flowing over the rocks underneath created a bridal veil until the white froth narrowed into a wide pool.
“Not as impressive as Shoshone Falls,” Trisha reminded me, “But it is lovely.”
“You’re right about that,” I replied.
Larry bent over to look in the clear pond below the falls.
“See anything?” I asked.
“Oh, just some little fish, see there’s one,” he said, pointing toward a shallow of wet rocks. “You ladies got enough pictures?”
“We never get to take enough, Hon,” Trisha said.
We were glad that we got a chance to see this rare beauty and started walking back down the muddy pathway. We didn’t care if we got mud on our shoes as we made our way toward our car.
After a couple of hours, Larry drove back toward our hotel on the highway through the center of the island. This direction brought us over to Pearl Harbor where we could see the Arizona Memorial. My grandfather died here. The ferry pilot said they could run one more time for the day since it was close to his quitting time.
“Let’s take it over,” I suggested. “We may not have enough time to come back here next week.
Trisha and Larry agreed, and as per the cautionary signs, we left our purses and camera cases in the car. Then we walked the short distance back to the dock. Larry paid for all of our tickets.
“You don’t have to pay for me, Larry,” I said when I saw what he did.
“No, my treat,” he said and we climbed into the ferry.
The full boat of tourists took only five minutes to dock at the Arizona Memorial. The silence inside except for the water lapping the exterior was like we were walking into a church. In a way, the structure is a church. There on the backside of the memorial was one large white placard covering the wall with names in black of all who died during the bombing of Pearl Harbor. We looked for my grandfather’s name as well as Larry’s uncle. Once we found them, I took a picture that I can now share with Jan and my sister, Eilene.
Behind us was a small crossover bridge where we could look into the water below. On clear days one is supposed to see the sunken ship beneath us. I pointed out to my friends the large rusted pipe just under the water’s surface that was the smokestack of the ship. Hard to imagine what these men had to endure before they went to their watery grave.
We stepped back onto the ferry in solemn repose and took our seats inside. I thought about my grandfather and looked over to Larry’s stoic expression. I’m sure he’s thinking about his ancestor in this battle, but like most men, they tend to hide their feelings.
I tipped the boat pilot when the ferry docked, and Larry drove us back to our hotel where he returned the rental car. Requiring a lighter experience, we walked back out on the sidewalk and took a left down the street. The shops were busy with lots of customers trying to purchase their last-minute souvenirs before they left the island for the cruise or the flight home.
“I was here when there were tshirt vendors on the street and you could get your souvenirs from them,” I said. “The last time Henry and I were here, the city banned them.”
“Well, the XYZ stores have their wares almost into the street,” Trisha said. “We can get a few from them.”
“They have a nice zoo here,” Larry said, trying to deflect us from our purchasing gene. But we ignored him.
We each bought a couple of tshirts and agreed to visit the animals. Walking alongside us on the sidewalk were pigeons and a cute little red and white bird that reminded me of the American red cardinal. We walked through the park that had a huge banyan tree. The landmark must be hundreds of years old. The small white sign nearby said the tree was planted in 1904 and is 150 feet across. I smiled when I watched several children running around it, trying to find places to hide within its several thin stalks that had grown down to the ground from the branches.
“Susan?” I heard Trisha ask and broke out of my reverie.
“Oh, I just remembered when Henry and I had our picture taken here by a young Japanese student on vacation. We were so happy and uncaring about the world around us,” I sighed and continued walking with my friends
We paid our zoo admission and wandered around as we looked at the exotic birds and monkeys. Trisha spotted a vendor with drinks to sell. We each purchased a soda and walked on further to see the elephants, zebras, and giraffes in their enclosures.
“Now that elephant looks like my Uncle Harvey,” Trisha said, pointing at the animal eating from the hay piled on the ground.
“Trisha, I think you’re right,” Larry added.
I met her uncle once and began to laugh. My mood raised
