Art Instructor and Express Yourself Art Show December 12 2017 Oahu Hawaii
Oahu Hawaii Research Journey for AIR, December v–12, 2018 — Episodes 1–five
Oahu Hawaii Enquiry Journey for AIR — Episode One…
As promised, my journey to Oahu to inquiry AIR volition begin today. I could not mail live as in that location was just besides much to see and do, but I will recreate hither, at present, starting on the solar day of my difference, Dec fifth…
Information technology was a Calgary to Vancouver over to Honolulu flight, a smooth and dominicus shiny mean solar day all the way.
I followed the trip via the onboard GPS screen and actually knew I was up high and headed far away when I could barely brand out the curvature of the earth out the window and on the screen…
Anxious I was, and had been for quite some time before I left… and so many emotions at play, merely the journeying had begun, with possessions of my mother and father in my carry on.
We were making the trip together — physical and ethereal.
The journey continues…
Oahu Hawaii Inquiry Journey for AIR — Episode Two…
Some half-dozen.5 hours later on, after fitful attempts at upright napping due to exhaustion, having been awake since two a.m., my tiredness melts similar a lava flow on butter when I spy out of my window the first hint of land — the south-eastern coast of Oahu.
At present, my journey was no longer a dream, a planned-for journey back on time and far e in infinite. Information technology was real. My exploration leapt through the starting gate, topographical lines I had long ago memorized, proving now their existent existence.
My heartbeat quickened. My eyesight light amplification by stimulated emission of radiation-beam focused and my psyche drifted abroad from the dreary confines of the airplane and floated with all elation at what my eyes absorbed.
Oahu, 1941.
Soon, the harbor shaped and then emblazoned in my heed appeared… so hazy at first I questioned the locale.
But and then I saw and I knew; the stark white glow of the Arizona Memorial, the grey shadow of the Might Mo, Ford Isle and the glittering sea water, the ultimate foe after the Japanese left, the elemental taker of life.
I gazed down and the tears flowed. I daren't look up for travellers sat near me would come across my bared emotion.
My men, my boys, all those dead — the ghosts of the battleships long gone and the decayed-to-dust bones still buried in the Arizona, they all gazed up at me in sober reflection, whispering, "What took you and so long?"
I had no words. Sorrow overtook.
I was catapulted dorsum to reality as the airplane pilot flew over
Ewa Beach, announcing our approach to state.
My time was now. I would swallow my apprehension to become this alone and I would succeed, if not for myself, for my boys.
The journey continues…
Oahu Hawaii Research Journeying for AIR — Episode Three…
December 5th concluded with my acquiring a rental machine and driving the harrowing H1, H210 and H76 freeways — some fourteen lanes both ways in some places — to Ewa [pronounced Ava] Beach, xx odd miles west-south-west of Honolulu, and the concluding coastline the Japanese airmen flew over earlier heading into Pearl Harbor on that fateful day in '41, 77 years hence, T minus less than two days.
I wanted to stay at Ewa, to be equally far removed from the 21st century every bit I could get simply because on this trip I am not living in the Now. I'm living then.
Ewa, so equally now, is a tranquil suburb where only the swish of palms and the roar of the ocean waves every bit they barrel into shore occupy your mind.
Afterwards settling into my Tree Meridian condo, I headed to my private spit of the
beach to picket the mean solar day'southward dying light, and absorb the fact that I was there, really there, to observe a place and time lost to many just not to all.
To those of us who need to "Call up Pearl Harbor" as the motto went, that if in that location e'er was a time when you needed reminding of all you have, of all you love and hold dearest, Dec v and sixth are those precious moments to quietly detect and inhale before information technology all could have hands been lost…
Equally the night shadows merchandise spots with the sun's glare, the unripened
coconuts nestle above me in the palms, the sand slowly loses its oestrus
and the gay skyline of Waikiki twinkles in the distance, heartache, horror and unending sorrow can exist witnessed, tucked in between the folds of paradise.
It'southward all yet there if y'all care to actually expect.
The journey continues…
Oahu Hawaii Inquiry Journeying for AIR — Episode Four…
My first day out had to be spent conveying my respects to the existent men and boys who died in Pearl Harbor, particularly my boys on the Okie.
Driving upwardly into the volcanic crater of the away from experiencing history, so real and so harrowing. I questioned fifty-fifty whether I had a right to exist there.
National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific, or Punchbowl as it's fondly nicknamed, was a momentous experience for me. With each mile and higher and higher my automobile went, emotions of expectation and sorrow came to the surface. I was mere minutes away from experiencing history, so real and so harrowing. I questioned even whether I had a correct to be there.
As you reach the top and bulldoze through the white marble gates y'all are blessed with an utterly reverent and glorious sight. Verdant lawns immaculately kept, a stillness in the crater which erases all the hubbub dissonance of Honolulu, and you lot are welcomed by its otherworldly residents. Tiny birds peck as the asphalt bulldoze for seeds from the gargantuan trees, and once you lot open your car door a freshness from soft breezes invades your nostrils and your entire soul, or at least mine, is filled with warmth, is welcomed and is at abode.
Y'all are met with an engraved bulletin to the Unknown soldier and afterwards walking up the vast marble staircase you are met with a beautiful celestial statue and a soft trickling fountain regaling pride for the fallen.
Within the recess area behind the fountain hang massive tactical maps of each major campaign in the Pacific, works of art all, made of coloured rock and so intricate in their design each must have taken many
months if not years to complete.
To the correct of the stairway lay the slabs of the known men who died on the USS Oklahoma, a kind of eternal tape of their loss despite their bodies non being identified in the basis.
I talked to each I saw and touched the names of the ones I could reach. I did not feel solitary. They were watching me and I felt happiness in the air. Tears welled up and overflowed and I had an urge to say "I am so sorry" to the men, just I added that because of their bravery they allowed me and millions like me to have a life.
I prayed for their souls in the petty chapel next to the stone murals and I cried hard. I excised all of my deep emotions about this journey and my book and nigh my boys and the future they gave us. For me, a much needed release. It is such a heavy burden to write on the dead.
I told them my purpose for writing this book and asked them for their assistance in completing AIR. I knew I needed their back up. I knew I needed their permission to tell the story. I felt only warmth and serenity pity. I heard a whisper in the breeze, "Terminate the volume."
On this first solar day, I could non locate any of the Unknown graves, and then I said my goodbyes into the wind but a part of me knew I would not leave this Pacific island paradise until I establish "my boys."
My journey continues…
Oahu Hawaii Research Journey for AIR — Episode Five…
Some remaining photos of my initial visit to the Punchbowl cemetery…
Ceremonial Flagstaff, like to ones that would wing the American flag on battleships at port
A dedication plaque to all the brave journalists who admirably covered the Pearl Harbor attack and all the subsequent Pacific campaigns.
US Flag which covered the first deceased interred in the Punchbowl subsequently the Pearl Harbor attack
Various photos of that interment ceremony…
That day, my heed was whirring with thoughts… I was moving in this world only my mind was dorsum "there." I could hear the bombs, the explosions, smell the gun powder and cordite, and see the smoke. I inhaled the burning metal and #6 bunker oil. My senses were on alert — my skin crawled, my hands sweaty. A body tremor, not noticeable to anyone else, overtook.
I was in a kind of shock. I felt information technology. The day around me, this 21st century December 6th, was peaceful and quite and serene… but all I heard were explosions, wailing cries for Mother, and my mind's eye saw claret. Everywhere. Limbs, decapitated heads. Everywhere.
In this 78 Fahrenheit degree day I felt cold.
I left the cemetery a spent human being being, as if I had run a marathon… or fought an unseen enemy.
I wanted to write in the cemetery invitee volume, something profound, effectual… simply all I wrote is what I wrote. The state of daze does not brand for good word choice.
But amid all the emotional turmoil, I felt I had my boys permission to proceed my research. And so I wiped away the tears, rubbed my artillery, steadied my easily and drove out of the crater.
Life must get on even amidst the expressionless.
My journey will continue in the next post…
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Source: https://medium.com/@BooksbyBJThompson/oahu-hawaii-research-journey-for-air-december-5-12-2018-episodes-1-5-42a87a37625f
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