In the days following the devastating Lahaina wildfire, my mom texted me this pic.
That’s me and my brother, riding a cannon in Lahaina, sometime in the late ’70s. There are four cannons total, located on Wharf Street across from the Old Lahaina Courthouse. They’re a block from historic Front Street and within a stone’s throw of the famed banyan tree. This Google Maps image provides good detail. The Banyan Tree Fine Art Gallery is located inside the courthouse.
The cannons were salvaged from a sunken Russian barge in 1816 and stand guard over Lahaina Harbor. I didn’t know anything of their history back then (or even an hour ago, for that matter). Eight-or-nine-year-old Mark just wanted to climb on top and sink a few pretend battleships.
Even though I was born in Hawaii, I’ve made no secret of the fact that I’m not real fond of the place. But there are exceptions. The Big Island is one, and Maui is another. I didn’t have great experiences growing up on Oahu, but my family would fly to those other islands to vacation, and I always had a blast visiting them. I know what you’re thinking: rough life he lived. I can’t help but feel lucky; not many kids get to do the things I did. My favorite memories include picnicking on black sand beaches, hiking the Crater Rim Trail along the Kilauea summit caldera in Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, catching a sunrise from a mountain peak high above the clouds at Haleakala National Park.
And visiting Lahaina.
I always liked the laid-back vibe there. The old whaling village had a historic look and feel that were in direct contrast to the touristy hustle and bustle of Honolulu. That was more my speed, even at such a young age.
I don’t know if Lahaina is/was still like that (it’s heartbreaking not knowing whether to use past or present tense). It’s been decades since I’ve visited. But the cannons, the courthouse, the banyan tree, they are all still there, which makes me hopeful that maybe the town hadn’t changed all that much. Of course, after last Tuesday, it’s all basically unrecognizable.
It’s hard to wrap my mind around the fact that the Lahaina of my memory is nothing but a memory for everyone now. But if there’s one thing I know, it’s that my people (Tara scoffs at that, but hey, I am a native of the islands, so I’m running with it) are proud and resilient. Like the scorched and blackened banyan tree, their roots run deep and strong. There is life within. They have weathered hardships before and will find the inner strength to thrive once more.
I wish the people of Maui–my fellow Hawaiians–nothing but the best and a swift recovery.
Mark My Words 
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