[ READER REMEMBRANCE ]
Mac's store -- that's what we called it, although the sign said Morihara. Mac's Japanese father began the store in the plantation days of the Big Island, but my memories don't go back that far. Big Isle store was good
friend to new residentBy Ann Fraser
Special to the Star-BulletinIn the early 80's, I was a haole hippie, a paradise-seeking teacher who learned quickly how difficult paradise could be. Upcountry South Kona was solidly rural: A heady dose of macho culture and "outsiders beware" made even a naturally friendly person like myself tread lightly.
Mac was my touchstone, the welcoming presence who greeted my mornings and afternoons. It took less than 10 minutes to walk up City of Refuge (now Puuhonua) Road to reach the store, nestled in a curve along the Mamalahoa Highway. My ride to and from work could easily stop at the store to meet or drop me off. There was a mac nut shortbread and POG for breakfast, canned corned beef and sushi rolls for dinner. It didn't matter that my paycheck came only once a month; credit for neighbors was an established and appreciated practice at Mac's. Rain or shine, day after day, Mac was there, sweeping the porch, acknowledging a passing friend.
I lived in a nonconforming coffee shack, short on amenities like electricity and indoor plumbing but with a vast unobstructed sunset view. Cooking over an open fire wasn't so bad in the golden hues. Mac always seemed to offer just enough of a selection for variety, and just enough encouragement to make me feel comfortable and accepted, at least in this one small corner of Honaunau. There was a time to talk story, to watch the sun and rain play over the changing ocean from this peaceful spot on the hill.
A few years ago, Mac retired. The store was sold, then closed. It now sits empty, lack of parking preventing development. I pass it as I drive to my compact, modern home by Kealakekua Bay. I shop everywhere from Costco to the neighborhood fruit stand and love the life I lead. Many times, I have silently thanked Mac for being one of those who helped me figure out how to let Hawaii live in me, rather than the other way around.
Even though the sign says "Merv's place" and it's been painted salmon pink, people still say "Mac's store" because Morihara's little establishment has passed into the history of our island.
Ann Fraser is a resident of Napoopoo, Hawaii.
