Birth of 1st grandchild

When her first grandson was born Gramma was in Washington D.C. visiting some friends. She was so happy upon hearing the news she wanted to send her love via a card through the post office. Where she was at the post office was in a mom n pop shop and they also had a little fountain area. The post office was closed but would be re-opening soon so she decided to have a sundae while she waited and went to the counter and sat down.

She waited and waited as the waitress passed her by several times to take other people's orders. Finally the waitress came to her and asked her what she wanted. Gramma ordered a hot fudge sundae and the waitress walked away. She returned with a brown paper bag and put it in front of Gramma. "There you go." she said. Gramma was confused and told the waitress that she wanted to eat it there. The waitress told her she couldn't. Gramma still not making the connection didn't understand why she couldn't eat it there. Finally the waitress bend over the counter and said, "You are colored aren't you?" Gramma was like "What?!!" she slams her fist on the counter as it all came to her. "I am brown or are you too stupid you don't know the difference? I come from Hawaii, an island in the Pacific Ocean." Are you that ignorant you don't know Hawaii?" The waitress tried to take the bag and unload the contents all the while being very apologetic. Gramma says, "Never mind I don't want your sundae and you can take your apologies and shove them where the sun don't shine!"

One of the stories I've heard repeatedly and she loved telling it. She also remembered riding with her friends and pulling into a restaurant and watching 4 black people going in and immediately coming out. When she questioned this she was told the restaurant didn't serve them, gramma asked to go eat someplace else.

History

I know that I've stopped posting stories on here. But I've been debating with myself for a couple of months now on whether I should continue. I still don't know.

These are stories from my grandmother or about her that I know. But I've realized that I can tell my stories but I really can't give the history on most of them. And for some these stories may hurt, a lot. Do I dare continue? I just don't know. I know how she felt at times but I don't know what brought on those feelings. So would it be fair to write those stories?

I just got done posting on the facebook group that stories and history should be told if only to understand our family history better. I'm just not sure I want to be the one telling the stories. I love my family and I have always wished we were closer. But something was there that kept the family from bonding.

When we would go and visit Uncle Walter and family I was always so excited. His daughters, my cousins were so, I don't know the words. They were beautiful and sacred to me. It's hard to explain but for a long time I worshiped them for the Goddesses they were. Even Norma and Yolanda when I met them it was like seeing the Goddess incarnate. I thought they were the best things since sliced bread. Still do really. That's why this is hard.

Some of the stories will hurt. But they are the stories I know and remember. I finally have a connection with my cousins like I've always wanted. Do I risk losing it now? Should I? I just don't know. So if there is no postings I'm still thinking.

Kahuna says

When my Gramma was younger she had a skin condition that was horrible. She was basically one big sore all the time. She remembers that in the mornings they would have to peel away her sheets and she would scream and the sheet would take part of her flesh. They had tried numerous solutions but it would not go away. During this time another child was born, they named him Gabriel. He was born with a hair lip or something like that. At wits end from the horrors that plagued their children they went to see a Kahuna. He told them, "One must die so the other may live." Shortly after that Gabriel passed away and Gramma's skin condition cleared up. My Gramma had the softest skin around but when you looked at it you could see what looked like scale marks on her. When you went to touch her you felt nothing but smooth soft skin.

My Gramma was convinced probably till the very end that this incident is what caused her father to hate her. She always believed that he didn't like her. If fact when she told another story that involves her and my grandfather taking him to court. She said that in court he stated that he hated her. "Go look. It is in the court records that he said that to me." She would say all the time.

Selfish as it is to say, I'm glad she lived.

Charlotte's Web

I don't remember how old I was or what grade I was in but I remember the event. In school Charlotte's web was being read to us and this day we got to the end. This book was so sad for me. I couldn't understand why Charlotte died. But I went home and it was business as usual.

When it was time for bed I went in and started preparing my bed. It was set up in one corner and my gramma shared my room, her bed was not far from mine. In the top corner of my bed I saw a spider on the wall and swatted at it and killed it. Then it hit me! I killed Charlotte!! I was devastated and could not be calmed. I killed Charlotte and I was bad for doing it. I felt awful, I kept saying "I'm sorry I killed Charlotte!" My mom thought I was absolutely nuts and was getting a little peeved that I wasn't settling down.

Finally my Gramma grabbed me and she got me to calm down finally and put me in her bed and I fell asleep there to her soothing singing. Even though my Gramma called me silly  at first she still came to my aid with love and understanding and I was always comforted by that.

Coming to the rescue

My Gramma lived with us in the Halawa house and I guess before then. I don't really know that. But I remember her at that house. In fact that's where my memories start. So we will begin there.

My mother I think suffered from baby blues and was very unstable. Others may not have seen it but she suffered greatly and unfortunately we suffered with her. My Gramma was our hero on many occasions. This story I don't remember but Gramma told it to me a few times.

I was 3 or 4 and what I did Gramma couldn't remember but what she did remember was she heard my crying then stop. She came to see what was going on and when she walked into the room my mom was choking me and I had passed out and was purple. My Gramma grabbed my Mom and took me away from her. Thankfully I don't remember but that story haunts me still.

My Gramma was our hero. When my Mom started ranting we all ran to Gramma. I remember Gregg was getting lickins from my Mom and he ran to Gramma who was trying her best to keep out of it. My mom flew into a rage and grabbed him and yelled, "Don't you run to her." and started spanking him more. My Gramma went flying towards my mom and grabbed her by the throat and backed her into a wall telling my mom, "Don't you dare hit these kids because of me." My mom got free and ran into her room crying. I wasn't mad at my Gramma but I did feel sorry for my mom. I followed her into her room and she laid on the bed crying. I went to her and she told me to go away, but I stayed. She cried and told me that nobody loved her. I cried and told her I did.

Even though it was always a battle I never saw my Gramma as anything but a Saviour and our Hero. She stood up for us always no matter what the cost. She lived with us so my parents didn't have to worry about a babysitter. She gave up her life to stay and protect ours. Different times back then, usually no one interferes with the raising of children. My Gramma tried to do that but found herself at odds with my parents all the time. It got so bad at one time that she finally had to leave. I believe that was my dads doing. We were losing our champion and it was the worst time in our lives.

Happy Birthday Gramma!

Today would've been 105. You've been gone 10 years and each day that goes by there is something that always reminds me of you. For most of my life you've been my rock, my hero, my inspiration. I miss you so very much. I hope in writing your stories I help to keep you alive in the hearts and memories of family and friends. Some may not want to hear your stories but if they will only listen then they can come to terms with who you were and the strength that kept you going. 


I miss you Gramma and love you always. This day and every day I honor and remember you.

Matron duties-elevator ride

At the station and my gramma is dealing with a problem prostitute who is getting physical and dangerous. She caught my gramma a couple of times and holding back her anger my gramma remained somewhat calm. When it was time to take this woman to her cell they had to escort her by way of elevator. My gramma along with a male officer enter the elevator with their prisoner. When the gates close the male officer looks straight at the door while my gramma commences in kicking some ass. When the doors are getting ready to open the officer stops my gramma and they proceed as usual.

I'm not saying I'm proud of my gramma for what she did. I can try and candy coat by saying those were different times but I'm not. It happened and that's just the way it is. I will say this though. Don't mess with my gramma cause she will kick your ass!