Howdy and Aloha

If there is a benefit to travel it is to learn about other people, customs, and cultures and of course to get out of the snow for a minute.
 The plane ride to Hawaii was akin to sitting in the rear jump-seat of a Ford Ranger for six hours. The inflight meal was four bags of pretzels and a Coke.  Am I the only one that doesn’t enjoy flying anymore?
Eventually we land and a beautiful native girl wearing a grass skirt and smile that lights up the room puts a lei around my neck and says “Aloha” with such a sincere sweet voice that I decide that Hawaii would be a great place to retire.
My too kind and loving wife smiles and elbows me in my broken rib, which smarts, and mutters from the side of her mouth that it is impolite to ogle.  Her strategically-placed elbow has its desired affect and I wince, try to breathe, and explain that I was merely making eye contact and that I am not an ogler. 
Oh, I have been called many things, many well deserved, but I am not an ogler…or I wasn’t until I came to Hawaii.
I am on the beach to people watch, enjoy life, work on my tan, drink a Pepsi, and schedule my afternoon luau.  My too kind and loving wife tells me I am ogling again which I vehemently deny, but I do mention to her that swimsuits are not what they used to be. 
Apparently, there is a shortage of cloth used to make swimsuits because I have seen postage stamps that cover more surface area.  But I decide to keep an open mind and eventually become an enthusiastic supporter of the “less is more” fashion of modern swimsuits.
I finally found a place that enjoys eating as much as I do.  Think of a luau as a cross between Chuck-A-Rama and America’s Got Talent; there are fire breathing natives and beautiful Hula Dancers that sway like a Quaking Aspen tree in a Monticello breeze. 
At the Luau it takes four strong young men to lift an entire pig, wrapped in taro leaves and cooked for eight hours, out of the imu (underground oven) and plop it on the serving table.  Although the pig has an apple in his mouth and appears to be smiling, my too kind and loving wife gets a little nauseated when she finally comes to understand exactly where and how the “pulled pork” gets from the farm to her sandwich.
I am a seasoned traveler, so it only takes me a day to master the local dialect and blend in with the locals... other than my running shoes, white socks, and southern Utah twang.  I soon quit saying “Howdy Pardner” and have learned to say Aloha and Mahalo. Turns out Pepsi is still the same in Hawaiian.  I master the local vernacular and learn that “aloha” is commonly used as a greeting in Hawaii.  But I learn that “aloha” is much more than that.  Aloha can mean mutual regard and affection.  It extends warmth and caring with no obligation in return.  Aloha can mean to hear what is not said, to see what cannot be seen, and to know the unknowable.
 Pretty soon I am saying aloha and shaking my “shaka” hand (thumb and pinkie extended) like a tourist to everyone and for every situation.  And if they don’t understand what I want, like all tourists I say it louder and slowly enunciate each syllable so that should help. 
The Hawaiian language only uses 12 letters and five of them are vowels so every word uses enough vowels to spell words like “oxyphenbutazone” which by the way, would get you 1,458 points in Scrabble but will probably make you lose all your friends.
But things are more complicated here in the isles.  When broken down, the literal translation of the phrase is [Alo] means “presence” and [Ha] means “breath.” So the word aloha translates to “The presence of breath” or “breath of life.”
In Utah “howdy” means “howdy”.  Broken down [How] means “boat people” and [dy] is from the Greek word that means “we are going to steal your land and put you on a reservation.”  The pilgrims used it when the boat first hit Plymouth Rock. 
They said “Howdy”, and then ate turkey and gravy and pumpkin pie and then stole the land.  We added a parade and football later.  Needless to say, the local Hawaiians were suspicious when we landed and I came out of the plane and said, “Howdy.”
Living aloha is a way of life, embracing the aloha spirit in everything you do. It is rooted in Hawaiian culture and the connection to everything around you.
We live, we love, we appreciate, we give, and we play with our whole hearts and selves. Always with respect for others, nature and ourselves and we get to eat at the luau and wear grass skirts.
My Hawaiian host is skeptical and explains how things turned out after the first white missionaries came from the mainland and said “Howdy”.  So, I try to explain that I don’t want all their land. 
I don’t want to make them wear Dockers and work in cubicles and banish their “aloha” way of life.  I wouldn’t make them work pushing papers 40 hours a week for 30 years hoping their 401K reaches some magical amount so they can someday sit on the sandy beach, fish, surf, eat roasted pig, and wear grass skirts; which is what they do now.
Really, all I want is some sunshine and beaches.  I tell him about how much snow we have and that it is piled up high and that I am running away from the snow for a few days. 
Something gets lost in the translation and he brings me a shaved-ice drink and says, “Aloha!”  Apparently, Hawaiians don’t have many words for piles of snow.  Eskimos have 50 words for snow, because it could be a life-and-death matter to them to have exact information about the snow they are going to encounter. 
It occurs to me that I may be part Eskimo because I have at least 50 words to describe snow; sure, most are offensive, vulgar, obscene, blasphemous, profane, four-letter bad words that I use for the $#*&*$1! snow that is piling up on my driveway.  But for now I massage my stomach so I can eat again and put my stretchy pants on and get ready for another luau…Aloha!

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