From Kapiolani School to the corner of Mohouli and Kinoole Streets there was a "jungle" we used to have to walk by everyday - it stretched from Lei Street until Kinoole Street. Whenever it got dark, we used to cross the street rather than walk by it because there was a haunted house in there. Sometimes, we would challenge each other to see who would walk up to the Chinese Church totally on that side of the street while everybody else crossed the street and taunted. A lot of times during the day, Roland (slightly mentally retarded) would suddenly come bounding out of there along the little lane that went to the house there and scare the hell out of us. Roland, in his childish ways, used to go "fishing" for cats. He had a guava stick with a string and a "french nail" (a "u-shaped" one with points in both ends). He used to also use these nails from his slingshot. That's how we learned to use the french nails for shooting maynah birds, mejiro, and sparrows. Though when I finally hit a bird, the french nail did too much damage to it so I stopped using them.
It was no problem to go to the house during the day and see all the "wild cats" that had taken over the house; but, when it got dark, it was too spooky. I swear, there were all kinds of strange noises that could be heard after the sun went down.
Across the street was Rodney Taketa's house. Rodney had a leaking heart and was always stunted in growth. From the 3rd or 4th grade on, he was always going to the hospital and had to take "numerous" trips to Honolulu and the mainland to see specialists about the leak in his heart. The final summer before he never came back, Rodney and I sat on the front porch of his house and we talked about the trip he was taking to the mainland during the coming summer. We were only 10 or 11 years old at the time; but, we knew how serious the operation was. He was always a joking, wise-cracking guy but the night before he was to leave, he didn't want to joke or anything. We mostly sat and stared across the street. Even though it was getting dark and I would have to walk up the street across from the jungle, I couldn't make myself leave. Rodney was my best friend at the time and he had told me that he had a feeling that he might not come back from the mainland. I told him not to talk like that; but, he said that before all the previous operations, he always had a good feeling that he would make it. For this one, he said he sensed that this was the last time we would see each other. I don't know if I hugged Rodney when I finally left when his mother told him he had to get inside and get ready for bed - you didn't hug in those days if you were a "man." I do know that I wasn't scared of the jungle because I wasn't paying attention to anything except thinking about what Rodney had told me. I kept telling myself that he was coming back and before I knew it, I had walked past the jungle, past the Chinese Church, and was already at home. In spite of his short life, I'm sure that he enjoyed it and as philosophical as he was, he was grown up beyond his years. Rodney Taketa was a brave guy. Here's to you Rodney, I think of you a lot because you taught me many things. I am grateful and happy to have been your best friend. I know that you often smiled down on me and helped me through my tough times.
No comments:
Post a Comment