Issue 11: Nostalgia

Published July 2012

Sure, the past is not meant to be lived in, but it certainly can inform our future. This issue is not meant to be a sappy recollection of the good ol’ days but an exercise in remembering.



Perhaps the most enjoyable part of putting together this issue was the finding, the digging into tattered cardboard boxes and sifting through hundreds of childhood photos. The wrinkled Ziploc bags, labeled hastily with titles like “family – give away,” “judo camp” or “high school gang,” hold decades-worth of memories and capture moments likely to have been forgetten. Smiling faces frozen in time at a wedding, a graduation, a Christmas party – Disneyland; sad ones too, the tears after a season-ending soccer game, the pout after being left out at a childhood sleepover.

This, our Nostalgia issue, is not meant to be a sappy recollection of the good ol’ days but an exercise in remembering. To remember to make it a point to reminisce, to sit down and spend a few quiet moments with an old timer, parent or grandparent – or our own thoughts – and hear about the time they walked 20 miles, barefoot, to get to work; when a dozen eggs cost two quarters and a drive-in movie was less than a dollar; when kids swam in pools created by rain and neighborhood doors were all left unlocked; a day with the family spent at the park, picnicking and running relay races.

It’s obvious, but it must be said: The reason it’s important to remember is so we don’t forget. Sure, the past is not meant to be lived in, but it certainly can inform our future.

Big Wind Kites

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Many of my fondest memories are inextricably tied to what I was wearing at the time. The first dress I really loved, as a tiny toddler, was a hand-smocked Swiss cotton lovingly made for me by my godmother, Marion Murphy, wife of John F. Murphy, who served as vice president of Castle & Cooke and president of Honolulu Symphony. Then came the matching mothe[...]

Plantation Days Gone By

The year was 1987 – the summer before my senior year in high school. I had gotten my first real job working at Dave’s Ice Cream in Waimalu. It was the perfect gig for a workforce newbie. Dave’s was air conditioned and just down the hill from our house. The job required little skill or brainpower and offered an unlimited supply of ice cream. It was the sum[...]

A Future Rooted in the Past: Kuha‘o Zane

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A Tight-Knit Crew: TheFuzz

When I caught word that a crew recently bombed Spalding House, I envisioned monolithic blockbusters plastered on the tennis court walls. I pictured tattooed writers wielding Montana and Ironlak cans and buckets of buff, spray paint fumes spiraling in the sky before raining down to blanket the grass with infinitesimal specks of color. I never thought bomb[...]
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