Morning breaking on Paradise Bay. I took a number of pictures of this. It was wonderful to watch the sun rise from the back porch of our room. Dad would have loved this. He would have been up with me, sitting on the porch of the rooms, drinking coffee and quietly watching the sun rise. Dad was always an early riser.
There is a gentleness of morning breaking when you are on vacation that you don’t have during the regular work schedule. A quiet that swallows you and lets you feel like you did as a kid. When you didn’t have to get up at 4:30 in the morning to continue your quest for the perfect blog. Or drive 1.5 hours in DC traffic. Where you were able to plan your day around “do we play in the park or in the back yard.” Where a hole in the ground meant a place to expire. Where dirt piled into the air meant a mountain to conquer. Or better dirt meant clod wars, throwing clumps of dirt at each other as your pretended to be the hero’s of WWII movies. John Wayne as the Green Beret.
The ocean doesn’t care about day or night. It only cares about cresting the blocks lava has created from it freely flowing. Once, perhaps 100 million years ago there was no Hawaii. The waves could roll from Baja to Japan and nothing stopped them. Water remembers that it locked inside each of us knowing that once it rolled the earth with little to stop it. Now it slams against the lava shooting water into the air, trying to break down the rock that stands in its way.
Oh mighty water that shapes the planet, cuts rock and makes things smaller. Water that creeps into crevices and then when frozen expands and cracks the rock. Maybe breaking it the first time, or maybe the millionth time. But it is going to happen for water is the creator and the destroyer.
It takes water to make perfection. I remember once asking dad why he studied frogs. I half expected a smart aleck answer like “because they are studying us.” But instead I got a teachable moment. Dad was a master at creating teachable moments without you even realizing he had done that. He said “frogs are nature’s barometer.” I pondered that. In the end I asked. What does that mean dad? He looked at me and said “frogs are extremely susceptible to changes in the environment. They die when things change to much.” Dad was so far ahead of the climate change problem. He saw global warming impacting the planet in the 1970’s. I am not sure what made him sadder, that people didn’t see the science and math of global warming, or that they refused to listen to the science and math. Like I said he was a master of creating teachable moments. When that didn’t work he felt like he had failed the person he was talking to. Not that the person was simply choosing to ignore what he was saying but that he had failed them.
remembering the leader of the band…