The Budget of Paradox

Sophia,
I wonder if any original Lau Chun paintings were burned in Maui. I know, it’s a small thing given the death and destruction. But still, I was wondering that today after looking at more photos of Lahaina.

There were plenty of art galleries on Front Street. I know your mother and I spent a long time in Sargent’s Art Gallery, which was directly across the street from Cheeseburger in Paradise. The gallery was totally destroyed. I even checked their website to see if they had any original Lau Chun paintings. I didn’t see any in their inventory, but you never know.

Does your mom even talk about Lau Chun at all anymore? I assume you know what I’m talking about, but I can’t be sure. Your mom really liked a painter in Hawaii named Lau Chun. She was selling his paintings at Nana Lee’s art gallery when we met. I’ve met Lau Chun several times; he lives in Honolulu. Anyway, most of his paintings that you see hanging on walls are giclées. It’s a fancy French word that basically means it’s a copy. They’re excellent copies, but nevertheless, still copies. Rarely, the original is available for sale. They’re much more expensive. And obviously, they’re one-of-a-kind and irreplaceable.

Once in a while, some art gallery somewhere would have an original Lau Chun for sale. Is there a painting in your house of a girl on a beach? That’s a Lau Chun original. The girl in the painting is actually your mother when she was much younger.

Believe it or not, for a long time, the background screen on my phone has been his painting “Waimanalo” (which, by the way, at this writing, August 11, 2023, is for sale on eBay – the ORIGINAL is for sale! – for $9000).

https://www.google.c … +chun+waimanalo+1982

Sophia,
Perhaps you’ve seen the news about Maui. I know you probably don’t feel very connected to Hawaii. Furthermore, you were born on Kauai, not Maui. It’s too bad.

But I still feel connected. From my perspective, you were meant to grow up in Hawaii. But that’s another story. I’ve been to all the Hawaiian Islands, even Ni‘ihau. I don’t have many memories from Maui. I’ve probably been there only a dozen times or so. But I remember Maui’s westside well – Ka‘anapali Beach, Lahaina Town, Kihei, and Wailea. Your mother and I visited them all.

Here’s a story. About four months after I met your mother, we went to Maui together. We weren’t married yet. We went there to see a live show at the Maui Theater, right there on Front Street in Lahaina. The next day, we walked the length of Front Street with all of its shops and art galleries. I learned a lot from her about art. I enjoyed that time. In fact, we spent more than an hour in one specific art gallery. There, I discovered the paintings of Robert Watson. Your mother liked a thousand-dollar painting of poppies by Anna Good.

memories lost: Cheeseburger in Paradise on Front Street in Lahaina

We ended up eating at a restaurant called Cheeseburger in Paradise. Goofy name, I know. But it’s located directly on the beach with great sunset views. It was crowded. They told us we could wait for a table of our own – or share a table with another couple. We accepted the latter. The other couple was from Bakersfield, California. The man’s name was Dell and he was a lawyer. I forgot the wife’s name; she was a nurse. The food was okay, but it was loud and crowded. I accidentally left my sunglasses there when we left (Maui Jim’s: really nice sunglasses). I went back the next day and surprisingly, they still had them.

Anyway, this is just some dumb, random memory with your mom from 23 years ago. But I saw in the news that Cheeseburger in Paradise has burned to the ground, along with all the nearby shops and art galleries. So, another part of my world is gone forever. Now, just stinking memories.

What’s funny? As much as I remember from that trip, I can’t remember what show we saw at the theater. Maybe your mother remembers. But probably not.

Cheeseburger in Paradise

By telling you all this, I want you to know you’re part of something bigger than yourself. You’re not just some girl in Lynchburg. You’re part of a family (a divided family, but still…) that has memories and roots and love and experiences, all in Hawaii. I know your mother has forgotten all the good times and bizarrely only wants to remember the bad ones. I can’t change that. But I’m telling you, there were happy times in beautiful places. I wanted my kids to be born into that world.

beach view

beach view

Sophia,
One week. That’s all you have left of summer. I haven’t talked to you in a long time. But I’m assuming that you’ll be a freshman at EC Glass next week. You know, I’ve never been there. I’ve never been inside that building. I drove by it many times; I know where it is. But I can’t picture the interior. Have you been inside yet?

Are you nervous? Excited? Landmarks such as these are what I really miss. I wish I was there for your first day of high school.

What will you do with the last bit of summer?

I’ll be thinking of you, as always.

Love you, Dad
p.s. here is a video I found today that made me laugh.

Sophia,
Have you seen the Barbie movie? I haven’t. But I read social media all the time. I understand it’s creating something of a controversy about Feminism and gender roles and so on. I really have no data, so I have no opinion at all. I just read other people’s comments.

Did you ever have any Barbie dolls growing up? I can’t remember. I don’t think your mother and I ever bought any for Morey. Well, maybe one or two. But I don’t remember Barbies being a big thing for her. And for you, of course, I was gone most of the time. I don’t really know what toys you had. You might have had a Barbie. I bought you a Hunger Games limited edition Barbie one year, but your mother said it was scary and gave it back to me. I waited for about a year and sold it on eBay. Because it was a limited edition, and still new-in-the-box, I made some money on it. But I would have preferred that you have it.

Anyway, I just wondered if you’d seen the movie. I know movies are expensive these days. I would pay for you to go. Actually, if I had my way, I’d be a part of your life and pay for lots of things. But, I don’t get my way very often. I guess that’s how it is.

But, in any case, I love you and miss you.
Dad.

The truth is that I can't be your dad because of a bunch of strangers and retarded assholes who think they know what's best for you more than I do. How's that possible? How is some stranger going to know better than me? Well, in family court, everyone is motivated by money. I hope you always remember that. I am separated from you because someone, somewhere makes money from that. Believe me, if it were profitable for us to be together, the scumbags would leave skidmarks getting to us. Someday this will all make sense. I know it doesn't make sense now. Hell, I'd love to take you to see Barbie myself, who cares if it's a Feminist movie. I just want to spend time with you.

July 27, 2023
Sophia,
“Free, White and 21” is something my mother used to say. It symbolizes true individual freedom in America. Is it racist? I don’t know; maybe a little. But she grew up in another era. And you’re growing up in Lynchburg. Either way, a little bit of racism is tolerated, I’m sure.

Morey’s birthday is not lost on me. Hard to believe she’s 21. I feel like an old man writing this, but I remember the day she was born. You probably know that Morey was born several weeks premature. I remember your mother called me at work and told me that her water had just broke, and she was in labor. She quickly went to the hospital in Lihue, on the east side island of Kauai. But I was way out on the Westside, and it was a long drive to reach her. I drove too fast and I didn’t even stop for red lights. I was panicked, but my panic had only begun.

Your mom holds Morey when she was just a few hours old.

After I got to the airport and bought a ticket, I remember standing at the gate. I think it was Gate 6; that’s the gate in Lihue where Hawaiian flights to Honolulu normally departed from. The boarding area has a wide-open view of the runways. I stood there and watching the air ambulance take off. At the time, I loved your mother and Morey very much. The people I loved the most were on that plane, and they were in danger. And all I could do was stand there, helplessly, and watch them take off into the night sky.

The next day, a doctor in Honolulu scared the Hell out of me by telling your mother and me that Morey could be born with terrible disabilities. She might be retarded. She might never be able to feed herself or use a toilet by herself. I was more than scared. I was living a nightmare.

The next day, July 27, 2002, at about 17 minutes past 1:00 AM, Morey was born. When they wheeled your mother’s bed into the delivery room, we were alone. But I was shocked at how quickly the room filled up. Suddenly, there were two doctors, five nurses, aides, assistants, respiratory specialists, neonatal specialists, lab technicians, and God knows who else. There must have been 20 people in the room.

They quickly put Morey in an incubator and started hooking her up to machines. They told us to come to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) when we were ready, but they expected your mom to sleep for a while first. But she couldn’t sleep. Neither could I. About two hours later, I was pushing your mom in a wheelchair down a long hall towards the NICU when I collapsed. I was overcome by emotion and exhaustion. Your heart can only race – and break – continuously, for a certain amount of time. At some point, your body will make you sit and take a break. The body keeps score.

Twenty-one years ago today…. it was the most frightening day of my life. And I say that as someone who’s been in two wars, and flown in a small plane, at night, far beyond friendly lines.

God Bless You, Morey, or Percy, wherever you are. You’re never too far from my heart.