Vanna, may I please buy a consonant? or Kamehameha Stonehenge

I believe that my spouse, being a guy, has omitted some of the best parts of touring the island of Oahu with our good friends, the Cappabiancas. We picked up the rental car at 7am. Drove out of the garage, turned right onto Koa, left onto Liliukalhani, left onto Ala Wai, left onto Nui and then cross over to Ala Moana drive. Get the Cappas, head out onto the Kamehameha highway. As navigator and semi-tour guide, I feel a compulsion to verbally inform our crew of the upcoming sights. It becomes clear to everyone that I am really trying to recreate a prehistoric chant so that the Island Gods will notice us and take care. Haliewa, Waiamea, Kahuku, Laie, Hauula, Punaliui, Kaaawa, Waikane, Waiahole, Hawaii Kai, Kahala, Aina Haina. Try one. Kaaawa: kah-AH-ah-wah. Try two. Waiamea: why-ah-MEE-ah. Aside from the passengers throwing sharp objects at me, every other kind of abuse was hurled in my direction. The worst being my husband's constant obsession to remind the riders that what the natives really needed was a very large "vowel movement"! Yes, Vanna, we made an appearance at all of those sights and more. And I, for one, felt that I learned something about how Hawaii has retained its ancestral form of communication.

Punaliui was the surprise in the Cracker Jacks box. Not only were the garlic shrimp delicious, but across the road from where we were sitting were the primordeal creations of a fellow earthling. My heart quickened. Dozens of stone towers lined the beach and they were purposely made from a few special rocks that had been stacked with a conscious effort to give hommage to their unique beauty....especially when piled in tandem. My good friend Marcia Foster does this all over her garden, because she needs to and she can. I also have a thing for making rock towers and walls. We laugh at each other when showing off particularly nice specimens, but we know that there is an international clan of us who know that this is satisfying, necessary and some kind of primal need. I've noticed it all over. I'm an earth sign. Marcia is some kind of mystical thing. We both see ourselves dancing under the moonlight in gauze robes with a cauldron on the fire. But, as it turns out, the artist here is a guy!!! And he was not Japanese. This is a basic human instinct for those in tune. Didn't have time to engage in a conversation. Probably best. The myth lives on.

Lastly, Tucker did not describe to you the number of lighthouses and other small buildings that appeared on the rocky prominences along the east coast of the island. Which concludes my Stonehenge-how-the-hell-did-they-move-those-stones out to a remote spot on a very dangerous coastline that shows no signs of excavation. In fact, the areas are inaccessible to vehicles of the ordinary kind and the locations are on rock that has been eroded smooth by weather and sea. Fascinating, don't you think? And inquiring minds just need to know. The "tourist contingent" wasn't interested in this enigma nor the one about how the Egyptians built the pyramids. They obviously are not drawn to the ancient instinct to reorganize the earth as a way of achieving immortality.