My grandparents bought their lot a long time ago and my dad grew up here, in the original house. The front of the house used to be toward Kunawai Lane, and it was like that for a long time until the lane on North Kuakini Street opened up. When we were little, the original house was still there. It was old but had lots of cool features. An old-fashioned copper ofuro with separate washing area, my Babachan's room which was in the middle of the house and you had to pass through it to get to the living room, one aunty's bedroom that was in the living room, and the other two aunties sharing a long room along the side of the house. There was a door in that room that opened to the outside but there were no stairs or landing there, just air. Lots of places outside to play in the yard with "scope for the imagination," as Anne Shirley in "Anne of Green Gables" would say. My Jichan had an area full of the orchids he cultivated, it always had an earthy smell. There was a stump from an old mango tree that we could perform on. And there were lots of cool plants to play with: air plants that you could pop like miniature balloons, hibiscus buds we could pick off the plant and stick on your face, red ixora flowers that we would pick and suck the sweet juice out of the stems, "umbrella" plants that had leaves that looked like spokes of an umbrella.
They tore down that house when I was maybe third grade, and my cousin Mike, an architect, designed a custom house for my grandparents and three aunties. A more modern ofuro, a niche for the Butsudan, small bedrooms, but a huge living room, perfect for family gatherings. Eventually my Jichan cleared away some of his hothouse to make room in the driveway for more cars, which was perfect with the next generation growing older and marrying and needing a place to park when they came over.
It was a central place for our family and someone was always home to welcome us. We could stop by anytime just to visit or wait, use the bathroom, leave a car to carpool. When we had a gathering at my friend Sue's house next door, friends could park at the house and walk through the gate to Sue's. The door was literally always open until we made our last surviving aunty lock her doors since she was there alone.
My sister Jan and I grew up in the new house, getting dropped off there in the morning, walking to school for elementary and intermediate school (not used to calling it "middle" school, like they do now), and catching the #2 bus in front of the old Honda Delicatessen on Liliha Street to get to high school and college. We went back there after school, where my aunty usually had a snack waiting for us~jello with fruit was a favorite. And if we got hungry before Dad came to pick us up to take us home, Babachan would make us musubis with rice hot from the pot, always perfectly triangular shaped and seasoned with salt. After school we would do homework, play with friends who lived nearby, roller skate in the garage, and maybe walk around the neighborhood and watch the cake decorator at Liliha Bakery through the special window in front. I lived in Kaneohe from when I was two, but don't feel like I grew up there. If asked, I usually say I grew up in Liliha.
Later, when we were older, the first thing we did when we got there was say hi to my grandparents and aunties, then head to my grandparents' room where the Butsudan was located, light incense and pay respect to those who were no longer with us. Then we had three aunties all try to talk to us at once and give us something to drink or eat! Somehow we were able to manage three conversations at once, a special skill from so many years of spending time with them.
This was just supposed to be a quick recap of the weekend, but when I thought about what the new owners had done to the property, all the memories of the old houses came flooding back. So sad...not just about the house and the times that will never return, but the people who are no longer around.
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