Gathering Place
Max Tenscher
Aloha helps fill the void
created by senseless theftIt is 6:30 a.m. My 15-year-old daughter, Claire, and 17-year-old hearing-impaired stepdaughter, Kerry, sleep in the two double beds in this small room. My wife, Roxanne, sleeps on our camping pads on the floor between them. We were supposed to be camping on the North Shore. Instead, we are in a hotel in Waikiki.
Our rental car was broken into. We were snorkeling at Makai Research Pier on Father's Day. We had planned to do laundry afterward and had bags in the trunk. Our daughters had a few things in the car. We were camped at Hoomaluhia. Our tents and cooking gear were there. In some instant, our belongings in the car disappeared, and our holiday -- and our lives -- changed.
First, we want to say thank you. We thank the two couples at the pier who brought food, made follow-up cell-phone calls to police as we waited, and even offered money. We thank the woman back at camp who offered her telephone number in Honolulu if we should need anything. We thank Ellen at the Visitor's Aloha Society of Hawaii. She worked wonders with finding clothing, arranging temporary lodging and getting our tickets reissued. All of this care and support was invaluable.
Second, I want to talk about theft. A sense of violation, monetary loss and inconvenience are all very real, but there is more. Things that cannot be replaced go away. Claire lost necklaces that were gifts from her sister. She lost small gifts she bought for friends at home. She lost a ring she found snorkeling on Kauai three years ago. Kerry lost a purse I bought her for Christmas. She lost her first cash card and checkbook. She had only three dollars in her account.
Roxanne lost not only her credit cards, money and clothes, she also lost her address book with nearly 30 years of friends' names and addresses. Among the things I lost were a small 35-mm camera that was a high school graduation gift from my parents. It had been with me to South America and to the top of Mount McKinley in Alaska. I lost the medical kit I had put together myself. Every day since this happened, we will remember some small thing of no monetary value that we will miss as a part of our lives.
Claire found words for the waste in this unfortunate event as she cried in my arms beside the empty car. Sobbing, she said that so much of our things would end up in the trash because they meant nothing to anyone but people to whom they belonged. Things we had chosen and used, things that had served us and that we relied upon, things that we treasured were not only gone, they were now garbage. This is the deeper hurt.
We have gone on as people do. We have stayed in Hawaii rather than fly home early. We want to finally get to the North Shore and back to camping. We need to rebuild our trust. We certainly will be more cautious. But more needs to be done.
As a society, we need to find an effective way to deal with theft. It is such a problem, especially here in the islands. We need to get at the root of this crime. We need to show that theft is not just taking extra things from rich, faceless others. We need to show that it damages the lives of real people who care about others. Really, theft hurts family. With genuine effort, it can be stopped.
Finally, we need to show appreciation for the kindness of those who offer their time and support to those who suffer hurt and loss. These are the people who start out strangers and show themselves to be family. Each of us needs to be this kind of person when the need arises. I think this is what aloha represents.
Max Tenscher lives in West Linn, Ore.