Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Memories of the Orange Bus

While reading Sister Curran’s reply the other day I was reminded about something I had blocked out of my memory for a long, long time. The infamous Volkswagen Bus! I remember my dad bring it home I didn’t know what to think, it was orange… He had preordered his bus months earlier and had asked for a candy apple red. Of course they messed it all up so he had the choice of the orange bus or waiting three months until they could ship him one from the mainland. So being a local boy and not wanting to create a big stink, my dad took the orange bus, not realizing that it would define us for the next ten years.
Soon after we brought our new bus home these marvels of German engineering began to pop up everywhere on Moana Street. It seemed they had created the perfect Mormon transportation vehicles. You could take out the middle rowel and fit in what ever or whom ever you needed to and as much as you wanted to. In the days before car seats and seat belt laws it was great for trekking to the beach with 20 kids jammed inside, or to town to shop for groceries or trick or treating with the sliding door open, sitting there dangling your feet over the edge.

I remember someone got their hand slammed in the Curran’s sliding door on Quinn’s birth day, I think it was Calvin Jolley but I need verification on that.
As people began to hop on the VW Bus bandwagon, there were some who resisted the trend. Still it was no use the VW Bus was Moana streets chosen mode of transportation.

As with most things in Hawaii the salt air began to erode our orange bus and the holes began to grow, our large sunroof soon became the perfect water feature. When it rained, and we all know how it can rain, we would huddle up in the far corner hoping that dad didn’t stop to quickly. If he did the water that had gather on the roof would come gushing in soaking everyone in the back. It was almost a ritual, your literal baptism for riding in our car. Eventually the rust got to our muffler, and there was a certain sound it made as it traveled down the street, My mom said she could hear my dad coming home from all the way from BYU, she’d say “your dads on his way”, and sure enough. Thinking back it was pretty much a death trap on wheels, but we loved our orange bus. I was sad the day we sold it. When I returned home from England, I saw it around Laie not so orange but still running and still rusting away.¬

Tuesday, October 16, 2007


As we get closer to All Hallows Eve, I can’t help but remember when candy was the only objective. The question was who could get the most and who could get the best kind. I remember taking a pillowcase around from door to door. By now I would have had my costume figured out and tried it on in front of the mirror at least three of four times. I had to be ready; there was only a small window of opportunity to achieve my goal.
Moana Street was the best place on the whole island, maybe the whole world to get your candy. Rumors of Rat Poison and razor blades always were in the news and it made the safety of trick or treating on a street you knew everyone that much more reassuring. Parents from the other side of the island would bring their kids to come and knock on our doors.
I remember some of the houses that were high lights on my candy crusade. Sister Curran never let you down, her witch costume always gave me the creeps, Brother Jackson loved to spook you out and you could always count on a new twist each year.
I remember one year that we switched day’s form Sunday to Saturday, where else in the world can you change a holiday day. I can honestly say I felt sorry for the kids who came all the way from Town on Sunday and got nothing to show for it.
Seeing all my friends as we traveled around the block was part of the fun, wondering if they were getting more candy then me.
After we got home pouring out my candy on the floor admiring the loot and picking out one or two that were the pick of the bunch.
We counted candy traded candy ate candy for weeks after the big day, eventually getting down to the caramel maples and the raisins, who gives out raisins anyway?

Monday, October 15, 2007

Moana Street

Now some may call me sentimental for writing this blogg, but I can remember when my family moved across town. I was 8 and it seemed to me my world had fallen apart. I remember going over to our house and sitting on the front porch and crying…for a about a week. Such a tragedy, but I feel for that 8 year old Moana Street was his world. I would come and play every day for years as most of my friends lived there. As I grew I never was able to cut the ties that ran so deep. Still today my dearest friends come from that time and that street. When I came back from England when I was 18 I sat at the top of the street for hours looking down it remembering all those childhood memories. Each time I come back to Laie I take a moment to walk down the street smiling as I pass place that memories are still so vivid. Only those who grew up there can fully understand what I am talking about. I guess that’s why I figured this blogg would be a great place to share stories and thoughts about those times. I often wonder if the magic of the street carried over through the years for the other kids, if Zorro lived on, if the Turkey bowl and go water still were favorite pass times and if the drain still held the secrets of late night conversations? I remember a few years ago Quinn Curran and I were reminiscing and the subject of his banyan tree came up… How the heck did nobody get seriously injured, Eric Fason fell right down on a root…ouch. Anyway for those of you who understand I hope you join in and share the memories of the place I will forever consider home. Moana Street.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Hanabadda Dayz

As the need for housing is more and more in demand in Laie it seems that the old must make way for the new. I can’t say that with out tears coming to my eyes as BYU has decided to demolish the 28 faculty homes on Moana Street and in place of those original homes 52 shiny new homes will be built.
I can’t help but recall sitting on the drain outside of the Jackson’s house talking story until the stars came out. Familiar names and faces fill my mind as write this blog. Georgie, Dalton, Smith, Chase, Ward, Walker…. I could go on all day. The sadness of this whole thing is that it just shows that even in Laie you can’t keep things from changing. Is this progress? As the faces changed over the years Moana Street remained something I could always return to and feel a sense of renewal, I look back to my Hanna badda dayz…. I remember playing go water on Mike Smiths front lawn, Climbing in the Currans Banyan Tree… Kissing Ann Chase on the drain outside her house running from the rain as in came pouring down the street. All these memories won’t ever go, but the feeling of that old street will change. Progress, I guess we can’t halt it but take me back to hanna badda dayz.