When we told some of our friends we were going to Hawaii, their excitement was invigorating. Hawaii is a beautiful place, so dramatically different from the terrain of America's Midwest. Friends who had ventured to Hawaii themselves were eager to share their memories. These conversations only added to our excitement. Many asked us where we would be staying, we readily reported Waikiki on the island of Oahu. Suddenly the gauntlet was open and the negative remarks became overwhelming.
Initially, I began to question our decision but it was hard for me to imagine any tropical paradise as unwelcoming. As my children grow and we travel more I want them to experience a variety of places, people, and cultures. I understand and empathize with the allure a pristine secluded all inclusive resort offers. Free from trash, homelessness, and void of crime. But what does that say to my children? Homelessness doesn't stop because our entitlement enables us to shutout those things we find ugly or disparaging.
In the end the unsolicited negative commentary about Waikiki was disheartening, and I tried to only embrace the excitement of those who, like me, were simply ecstatic by the notion of a tropical vacation.
After our epic flight, and a small car rental debacle, we reached our accommodations. I only needed to step out onto our lanai to realize for this urban loving family our decision to stay in Waikiki was on the mark. As I stood on the lanai to my left a beautiful ocean view, to my right a view of the Waianae Mountain Range, and directly in front of me the amazing urban jungle of Waikiki. Trifecta Perfecta!
And at the end of each day, when Monkey and Bunny were finally asleep, the sun resting from a long day of bronzing sunbathers, I would go out on the lanai and sit utterly captivated. To seal the deal, it amazed me how a city of such girth and florescent brilliance could make way for the angelic chorus of a church choir a full block away.
6/52: A picture of my children once a week every week in 2014.
Not planned and a surprising teenage reality check, the birth of my oldest son Bear is nothing short of a blessing. Before Bear came along I was a tempest, eager to sign up for any cause as long as it promoted my rebellion. And while I didn't fall into the role of mother easily, Bear's beautiful soul captivated me. I struggled as a young adult to balance my desires and the needs of this young man. I floundered as a parent on a daily basis yet his kind, laid back, gregarious nature enabled him to roll with it. The fact he survived his tumultuous childhood proves he has the strength to conquer anything.
The eventual break up with Bear's father left me broken hearted, hateful, and bitter. To this day I firmly believe Bear's quick wit and loving manner healed my soul. It is my nature to be cynical, condescending, and skeptical. But the lessons I have learn, and continue to learn, being Bear's mother are the influential trebuchet forcing me to become a better person.
When Monkey and Bunny arrived, Bear was getting ready to head off to college. Being a parent of a blended family made up of children with radical age differences is challenging. I desperately wanted Monkey and Bunny to experience the joy Bear's mere presence brings. I also wanted Bear, an only child until the age of 15, to bond with his siblings. I feared Bear would feel replaced, unwanted, or worse as if our family and it's memories before his brother and sister were born were now obsolete. But like all things, Bear has taken the entry of these two interlopers in stride.
To create a cohesive family, balancing the needs of the child who has grown into an adult and now living independently, and two littles' in our home, we started a new tradition- Game Night. Needless to say Bear's attendance could not be overshadowed by even the most spectacular of guests. On game Night Monkey's impatience can be daunting. "When will he get here?", "What time is it now?", "It's six o'clock. Where is he?", etc. etc. etc. And though it is not poker night with the guys, I hope Bear does see and feel how grateful we all are he is our son and brother.
Travel doesn't always go as planned. Making decisions when tired, stressed, and a little bit scared can result in wrong decisions or travel failures. And while I once paced, fretting for the moment a failure would occur, I have more recently begun to openly embrace the ideology failure doesn't always have to equate to a negative outcome. Failure teaches my children to put things in perspective, take things in stride, and most importantly own their part and/or reaction to the moment.
Our recent trip to Hawaii started out with an epic failure. During our flight from Seattle to Honolulu, a passenger had a seizure. I was one of two medical professionals on board. Together, myself and another critical care nurse, communicated and collaborated with a physician via radio providing the passenger with the best care possible. During this time, the Captain discussed emergency landing options with the FAA. It was determined the best plan was to turn back and land in Oakland. Sadly, we were just under the half way mark to Honolulu. Upon arrival, our flight was met by the Oakland Fire Department to transport the passenger to a local hospital for further care.
Due to regulations and timing, our flight was "grounded". The airline arranged and paid for food, transportation, and overnight lodging for all 179 remaining passengers on board, not any easy feat at eleven o'clock at night. By the time we had reached our hotel it was almost two in the morning.
Our flight the following morning was scheduled to depart at eight o'clock. Needing to return to the airport in less than six hours, tired and stressed, Papa Miller and I weighed all our options- including the insane idea of all four of us sleeping at the airport. In the end, while dragging the menagerie to and fro with little sleep was gut wrenching, it was the safest option. I mean seriously people, it's Oakland.
Exhausted, I peeled Bunny and Monkey from their warm cocoons at five-thirty the next morning- a mere three and a half hours after falling asleep. Papa Miller and I proceeded to guide our weary eyed little ones through tears, frustration, and negotiated the prevention of full on tantrums like seasoned NATO diplomats preventing all out global warfare. When we reached the Oakland Airport, we moved swiftly through check-in, security, and quickly found breakfast.
It wasn't until the nurse from the previous days chaotic episode sat down to eat with us, I fully exhaled. We discussed the previous days events, coinciding career's, and family. Critical care, a common knowledge between us, opened the discussion of how bad things could have been. A second seizure, respiratory arrest, cardiac arrest, death. While the airline had an AED and medical bag, it was limited and did not have what would have been needed to help support a more grievous scenario.
Many of the passengers the previous night were nothing short of a vicious mob, angered by the medical emergency causing a delay to their vacations. It was not a shining moment for humanity. While waiting for our hotel assignment, I witnessed a women traveling with her teenage daughter make aggressive and inappropriate comments to an airline spokesperson. I stepped in and asked the woman had it been her daughter who was ill would she have wanted the plane to continue on knowing there was the possibility her daughter could die. Her response was vivid enough to make Miley Cyrus blush. My first instinct was to punch her in the face, fortunately I chose a more empathetic route and simply replied, "You do know what the word die means, right? Get some perspective". I myself tried to do the same. Imagine being the guy who wakes up lying on the floor in the back of the plane, covered in your own vomit and excrement, with a bunch of strangers standing over you jabbing needles in your arm, and to top it off you find out your the reason a whole plane of people are now in Oakland not Honolulu. Your vacations is not delayed, it is now over. How about that for perspective, lady.
It took almost two hours to land in Oakland, the passenger had ample time to recover. When the Oakland paramedics assessed him he was talking but remembered nothing of the chaotic events. I can only assume most on board had little idea the plethora of medical scenarios which could have played out, and felt the emergency landing was unwarranted. But, when you work in critical care you live and breath everyone's worse case scenarios. Normal people going about their business, then bam....D.E.A.D...dead. When situations like this arise you find yourself mitigating all kinds of emotions and memories trying to prevent a bad situation worsening. Believe me when I say from experience there is often a little squiggly line, that is know to easily disappear, which separates bad and holy shit this is bad.
In the end we arrived safely in Hawaii half a day later than planned. And while my children were tired, and a little overwhelmed, they were safe, healthy, and on vacation in paradise. We were blessed. In the days after our epic flight we all continued to focus on maintaining a view of gratitude rather than fall pray to classifying our experience as negative. We used it as a catalyst to let go of pre-written notions, ideas, and expectations and simply went with the flow. A...LO...HA.
5/52: A picture of my children once a week every week in 2014.
Bunny:
As a reward for going to swimming lessons every week and trying your best, I bought you, as promised, your own "floaty", flippers, and mask. During the month of March we had been reading books about Pearl Harbor, President Obama's home island of Maui, and watched you tube videos of Polynesian fire dancers. Our up coming trip to Hawaii was not a secret, we openly discussed it as a family. But it wasn't until this moment, when you made this face, that I realized you final understood, we were going to Hawaii.
