My Kind of Town
Not just every day
>> Royal Hawaiian Hotel
Elizabeth Resurreccion was not the first 6-year-old who did not want to come out of the water when her mother said it was time to go.
"We have to get back to Miss Lily's," Rosalita Resurreccion explained. She was Lily Ah Sun's maid. "So many things to do. And your Uncle Muhammed is coming today."
The petite little girl was already shivering in the pink swimsuit Lily bought her when they checked in last night. "Mama," Elizabeth begged, "please!"
"OK, five more minutes, only," her mother said from just above the waterline, keeping her feet dry.
Elizabeth grinned broadly and clapped her hands, then turned to jump over another baby wave.
Seeing Elizabeth having fun made Rosalita smile. And the ocean, she remembered from her youth, cleanses both body and soul. After the events of last night, the water would be good for Elizabeth. She had shown no outward sign of trauma after running into Miss Lily's bedroom and seeing her mother bleeding from a blow to the head and Lily's cousin Quinn shot in the thigh, and then her attacker who Quinn had already shot in the you know where crashing through a window as Quinn fired another shot at him.
Come to think of it, the ocean would be good for her too. Wearing shorts and T-shirt, Rosalita ran into the shallow water and splashed beside Elizabeth, startling her. But then the little girl began to laugh.
"Mama!" She took her mother's hand. "Jump with me!"
Another baby wave rolled in. Holding hands they jumped over it, fell splashing into the water and came up laughing.
Yes, the ocean soothes and cleanses. So too do love and laughter.
>> Ala Moana Beach Park
Lt. Col. Chuck Ryan, Navy intelligence officer, vaulted up onto the hull of the WWII-vintage Japanese mini-sub that had beached itself at the Diamond Head end of the park.
With his back to the beach, Ryan slid what looked like a silver Perry Ellis logo off his belt buckle. Taking care not to slip on the curved hull, Ryan stepped quickly to the hatch, leaned down and looked in.
The Perry Ellis buckle, the size of a Foodland Maika'i keychain card, was in fact a video camera.
In no hurry, soaking the incredible picture in his mind, Ryan slowly panned the cam-card around the inside of the sub, finishing with the lone occupant, a skeleton in the pilot's seat. Not something you see just every day.
Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek.
His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin
with weekly summaries on Sunday.
He can be emailed at dchapman@midweek.com