My favorite place on earth is upcountry Makawao,
a quiet rural town where tourists visit now.
Paniolo country with green pastures all around,
where mom and pop stores line this quaint little town.
Where Komoda’s and Kitada’s, iconic stores of
their
day,
served the Makawao community in their local classic way.
Where cultures are mixed and traditions are kept
and old fashion values are treated with respect.
Where the people are warm, friendly and kind
and our esteemed “aloha spirit” is so well-defined.
My love for this place has always been a part
of all I hold near and dear to my heart.
Where relatives still live, though many are now gone,
and the carefree days of my childhood still somehow
live on.
Fond is my memory of old Maha Road,
of grandma’s old house and stone oven, now cold.
I still picture the old kitchen where she used to cook,
it was grandma’s own world, her favorite little nook.
And the old smoke house still remains where it stood
where grandpa made his sausages that were “broke da mouth”
good.
Etched in my memory are all the fun things I did
way back in those days when I was a kid.
Eating lilikoi’s off the vine from the fields in the back,
climbing the old hen house to watch the little chicks hatch.
And then there was Charlie, the scrawniest rooster
I ever did see,
he was always chasing the hens around so full
of energy.
He’d crow every morning at dawn’s first glimmer
till grandma got the urge one day and cooked him
up for dinner.
Grandma’s culinary skills could rival any chef,
it didn’t matter how much she cooked, there was
never anything left.
She made the finest hekka out of rabbit, quail,
or chicken,
it always tasted great no matter what she was fixin.
And pastry from Komoda Bakery -- who could resist--
every bite was pure delight, such ono delectable bliss.
Singing songs with grandma and us laughing together,
these are the memories I will cherish forever.
Attending midnight mass on Christmas Eve,
hearing grandma’s voice in the choir -- who would believe,
her voice was so beautiful, loud and clear,
an audible treat for every welcoming ear.
The old St. Joseph’s church where I was baptized
was built by my ancestors when they were alive.
And those trips to the summit of Haleakala
were so cold yet so special, such a journey from afar.
And the silver sword of legend, so exotic and pretty,
these are the things I never saw in the city.
These were only brief visits to the isle of my birth
but I treasured them all more than any thing on earth.
Coming from Honolulu were I have been raised,
those times in Makawao where the highlight of my days.
I will never forget them for they are a part of my
soul,
my piece of heaven with grandma in the Makawao
of old.