Hanalei

Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee,
Little Jackie paper loved that rascal puff,
And brought him strings and sealing wax and other fancy stuff. oh

Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee,
Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee.

Together they would travel on a boat with billowed sail
Jackie kept a lookout perched on puffs gigantic tail,
Noble kings and princes would bow whenever they came,
Pirate ships would lower their flag when puff roared out his name. oh!

Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee,
Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee.

A dragon lives forever but not so little boys
Painted wings and giant rings make way for other toys.
One grey night it happened, Jackie paper came no more
And puff that mighty dragon, he ceased his fearless roar.

His head was bent in sorrow, green scales fell like rain,
Puff no longer went to play along the cherry lane.
Without his life-long friend, puff could not be brave,
So puff that mighty dragon sadly slipped into his cave. oh!

Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee,
Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee.

Sometimes I get a glimpse of that first look, that first impression, that drunken sensory buzz that one gets when they land on Kauai for the first time. It isn’t everyday - but for a sure hit, all I need to do is go to Hanalei. Hanalei (Hanah Lee as folk singers in the 60’s named it) is an emerald cresent with a wreath of verdant spiked mountains. There is no place more gorgeous, and a whiff of the wonder of it all is both stunning and humbling. My children will truley be warped in life - they have no idea what the reality is for where most people live. This ripe, tropical Eden is what they know as home and it is my fault their view of any other place is tainted by the saturated colored backdrop they have grown up with. Last summer I took them to hike in Yosemite for a week and then a few days in my beloved San Francisco. Luna and Sol had never seen extreme poverty before and homeless people in the streets. They cried and cried while I tried to point out interesting places in the city prompting  the memory of my first days in the city, my rubber neck and big eyes, abosorbing it all, shaken by the large scope a city incompases, but also the homeless people- and I remembered that fresh abrasion, that rub, it was not OK but I had to live with it, step over it to get to work, and not look into the eyes of poverty but stay focused to stay on task, to survive. I cannot explain homelessness to myself and learned I could not explain it to my children last summer, but cried with them as I drove, secretely - because after having living there for over 11 years- poverty had become part of the landscape - and it didn’t hit my radar anymore.
Such is life when things become to familiar, like the sun light on a bay and the tan backs of my children dissappearing into it’s glitter on their surfboards to join a distant school of dolphin like children playing in the waves while I lounge on the stern of our boat moored for the summer. I pray for that pause, that reboot button - that turns on that which means we are alive, and present to appreciate and see with new eyes. I appreciate the fact my children help me see things again - less jaded - more clearly. Thank you God for Hanalei.