Ipu (Gourd/Percussion Instrument)

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My mother, Kanoelani O’Connor with her ipu.

Waiting on a subway platform was part of my daily commute for almost 10 years. Expressing down to 14th Street from Times Square to pick up the local to Canal and Varick. Waiting on the platform, listening to the number 2 wiz by on its way to Brooklyn. The sound of train connecting with track. A New York City rhythm beckoning a more primal rhythm. The slap, tap, tap of the ipu beating out the footsteps of the first hula I ever learned – Kawika. Continue reading “Ipu (Gourd/Percussion Instrument)”

Ekolu Makou (We Three)

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My tutu, Abigail Kunane McMillen; Me; my mom, Kanoelani O’Connor

When my maternal grandparents left Wahiawa, Oahu in 1959 to come and live with their eldest daughter’s family in Maryland, our house became a multi-generational home. As I think back on the first home we shared, I can’t for the life of me figure out how we all fit into that little split-level: Mom, Dad, me and two brothers plus Gramps, Nana, and my mom’s youngest sister. I think people needed less space back in the 60’s. Somehow we made it work. My grandfather passed away a few years later and my grandmother stayed with us through another four re-locations. During this time, the three packs of cigarettes a day my dad smoked during his Navy career caught up with him and chronic lung and heart disease sidelined him from attending social events, so it became my job to step in as my mom’s escort. And thus, it became the three of us – Mom, known as Lani; Nana – who was called Auntie Abbie by the Hawaiian community; and me. Continue reading “Ekolu Makou (We Three)”