Yesterday at Hapuna, we ran into some young men who don’t know the meaning of “aloha.”
We had set our chairs up in the shade along the south rock wall. While we were walking, they tipped over our chairs, dumping my wife’s pack into the sand.
When we returned, they said “You shouldn’t have put your junk in the path.” There wasn’t a path—they simply wanted to “take over” a small cave behind us.
As we sat there, they came and went, and every time they passed, they dropped handfuls of sand in our gear.
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But they kindly offered us “weed” and beer… they had an ample supply.
The loudest one, who was, he said, from Waipio, said his last name was Franklin, but that he was “a direct descendant of King Kamehameha. “I got the royal blood in my veins,” he said. “They were due respect.”
He said his “grandmother was full-blood.”
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She must be so proud of him.
The great King Kamehameha has earned my respect. He was a great warrior, a leader of his people and an honorable man. Respect is earned.
These drunk, stoned okole, with big mouths and no respect for others get none from me.
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