Tonight in Hanapepe was all roses. I must admit I loved it. I do seem to be the kind of person you either like or you hate-for who knows what reasons-and while I often say I don’t know which role I prefer, in truth I do love  the roses. But I’m lucky, most of the rock throwers have lousy aim.

In Manila I was the brash young American everybody loved to love. I simply could do no wrong. When I returned to America-suburbia USA, at least for most of my years back on the home turf-I was the one ‘they’ loved to hate. One of the first things Bill said when he landed the job as Engineering Department Head at McBryde Sugar, was “…and I’m going to have to keep you on a plantation.” That was certainly prophetic and profound.

Kauai, which I immediately fell in love with, was my spot. I felt I’d been born to live here; but it was a feudal state. Benevolent. but the ‘high’ society  into which I’d been tossed was not my cup of tea. Plantation managers, at that time, were kings and department heads and their wives lords and ladies of the court with a much higher rank and station than the common ordinary working bloke. And field hands?  Well, my dear, like true aristocracy it was best to ignore their existence.  My egalitarian blood and up-bringing did not sit  well with that one. Besides, I rode my horse in those fields. I was out there with the field hands and felt quite comfortable with them. The mule handlers and I were on a first name bases.

The very first incident was one I could easily have avoided but stirred my sassy bone and tickled my tendency to tail tweak.

It was a call from the manager’s wife. Not a social call, more an order. A company party had been arranged  to welcome us into the elite fold. There was no human concern. No interest in my  adaptation. Just a curt, “We do not wear mini skirts…” and goodbye.

Okay, I’ll admit, the little hairs at the back of my neck began twitching. What was this? Was this a kid’s party? Should I bring a balloon? Anyway, I wasn’t defiant. I searched and found the perfect dress. Long in the hem. It dragged on the floor. But the neckline was low enough to make a baby cry. Okay, I’ll admit, it was a wrong move. But me? Make a wrong move? Never.

At any rate, this sealed my fate. I, obviously, did not belong.  Well, all newcomers were gifted with gorgeous red carnation leis. But not this night. I got them all. They covered up the view. I looked like I’d just won the Kentucky Derby. I took them off and passed them around to other newcomers.

This gracious gesture didn’t go over, either.

Until just a few months before Bill died, I was the one never invited to the party’s the ladies went to. but since I didn’t even know about them I wasn’t bother by them. Even  if I had known about them I’d not have been bothered by them.


2 Responses

  1. My dearest Betty Jo
    You never cease to amaze me. Still wondering about Ari.
    The above was a good read. So you.
    Simply bb


    • Betty, it’s so good to hear from you. I kind’a feel I’m letting everyone down but I’m literally overwhelmed with problems at home. Not unsolvable problems but it seems like countless of them. The wind knocked a huge tree down and really busted up my fence and fences are a necessity. Still working on that one. Ari and all the other animals are fine. Don’t get lost. How’s your book coming along? Love’ya ME


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