The famous ethnic and cultural diversity of Hawaii is something we love to point out to anyone who will listen. I've known this for thirty years now, because it's been that long since I moved to the islands from Seattle (on January 8, 1980), taking one of those crazy leaps of faith, trusting that this was where I belonged.

Aside from the natural beauty of Hawaii, the beauty and diversity of its people are what we grow to appreciate more deeply over the years. This is one amazing mix plate. The fact hit me hardest after living here just a couple of years.  I had a 60-minute layover at the Salt Lake City airport and suddenly felt that I was in a Twilight Zone experience.

What was wrong? I felt as if I had landed on another planet. Then I realized what was so different about the airport. Everybody looked the same! It's true that my skin was the same color as the other people there (although much tanner), but still I felt like an alien. Everywhere I looked I couldn't find a single Hawaiian, Japanese, Chinese, Filipino, Samoan, Korean, Vietnamese, or even African-American! I realized that I was a long way from Hawaii, and that I was homesick.

Fast forward to two years ago, at the Hawaii Book & Music Festival, and a panel on culture in Hawaii.  On this panel I read a poem I had just written for the occasion. The title is "I Stay Confused," but hey, lucky I live Hawaii, so it's all right. The poem is meant to be read aloud, and it's more fun than reading it silently ... so ... read it aloud! No shame!

"I Stay Confused"

I ask myself,
What is culture?
Is it theatre and symphony and ballet?
Or is it folks you meet in Longs?
I don’t know, but thinking about it
Is giving me a big headache.
And I think it’s contagious.

Too many choices
I stay confused
Like me at the lunch wagon
“Mac or toss?”
Excuse me?
“Mac or toss?”
Mac or toss, hmmm …
Meanwhile, the line in back of me is growing,
Folks who know what they want
Folks who are not confused …
“Gravy on everything?”
Ho, even the salad?
I stay confused …
And hungry.

Too many choices
I stay confused
Like me on Maui, years ago,
Only two months off the plane from Seattle
Choose a job, this or that,
And suddenly there I am,
Substitute teacher at Maui High
Walking into classroom
Full of ninth graders
Ready to teach them English
But the ninth graders teaching me pidgin instead,
And me that first day
Staring at the list of names before me
And Tiffany taking the book and calling roll for me
“Lani stay, Albert stay, Jason … Jason?!”
“Jason no stay!” somebody says.
“No,” comes another voice
From the back of the room,
“Jason stay.  He stay gone.” …

“Eh, Mr. Da Kine, do you have da kine?”
A student asking for a pencil, but how could I know? …

“Eh, Leetle, Mr. Leetle, spock you at Foodland!”
Well, gotta eat. …

And once a week, this question,
“Eh, Mr. Leetle, you get buds?”
How to answer?  “Do I look like the kind?”
“Yes, you do!”
Can only laugh.

Too many choices
I stay confused
“Can or no can?”
“Fork or chopstick?”
Ah, fork or chopstick
The eternal question
And me, with my mainland education
Graduated from Benihana,
With major in chopstick …
But sometimes fork is better
And they never ask “Fork and chopstick?”
So I stay confused,
And what, no knife?
My wife is Japanese, she eats with … fork,
But me, one cool Caucasian, I eat with … chopstick,
Bond, James Bond.

Too many choices
I stay confused
Like my son, Dylan,
Hapa boy,
Undecided,
Japanese yesterday, haole today,
Japanese tomorrow, and so on,
And him filling out the forms
Having to check a box,
Japanese?  Caucasian?  Other?
Why can only check one box?
He stares at the form …
Now my friend Carol just checks “Other”
And writes “Italian,”
And my son could check “Other”
And write “Japanese, Scottish, Irish,
English, German, Dutch, and Native American,”
But they don’t give you enough room on the form,
So he stay confused.

Too many choices
I stay confused
Like my friend Hugh at Times Supermarket
Him fresh off the plane from Wisconsin
And sent to the store to buy … shoyu
And him standing in the Asian food aisle in Times
Staring at all the strangenesses, even the soy sauce,
Kikkoman and Aloha,
Then going home empty handed
And reporting “Sorry, there’s no shoyu at Times.”

Too many choices
I stay confused
Like me at Longs,
Just last Sunday,
Staring at all the Spams on sale
Spam Lite, and Spam 25% Less Sodium, and Spam Classic,
Hard to choose …
I read the cans
Spam Lite—50% less fat,
33% fewer calories,
25% less sodium than Spam Classic—
But Spam Classic calls to me,
Spam Classic, what Darrell calls “Spam Heavy,”
And I love the classics,
So I bring home the limit,
One can of Spam Lite
And four cans of Spam Classic,
So before I go Straub for my checkup next day
I eat Spam Lite,
And brag about it to the doctor
And make her smile,
But the next day I offer to cook dinner
For my Japanese wife and hapa son
And we have … fried Spam Classic,
With rice and eggs …
Now that’s classic.

And that’s when it hits me,
The answer to all those choices,
The cure for my confusion,
And I begin to dream,

Good dreams, no nightmares …
And I see myself at the lunch wagon …
“Fork or chopstick?”
“Fork and chopstick,” I say,
“And half mac and half toss,
And easy on the gravy, doctor’s orders…”
And the folks in line in back of me
All smile and nod their heads.

And then I dream some more …
And I see my hapa son
Filling out the forms
And he checks “Other”
And writes “Japanese and Scottish and Irish,”
And then he draws an arrow
And begins writing in the margin
And up the page, in big letters,
“and English and German and Dutch, and Native American”
And then he goes back to the instructions
And crosses them out
And writes “Life is not simple,
check all boxes that apply.”

And I dream some more …
And I see myself at home
In the living room, at the piano,
With the Randy Newman music book
Open to the song “Short People,”
And my Japanese wife in the kitchen,
All 4-feet, 9-inches of her,
Not more than ten paces away,
And I begin to play the intro to … “Short People”
And I have to make a choice,
To sing the words, or not to sing,
And I love the song but my wife does not,
Hard choice …
I stay confused …
Again!

Tags: Hawaii Book & Music Festival, Hawaiian culture, poetry

This entry was posted on Wednesday, January 13th, 2010 at 12:05 am and is filed under Hawaii poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.