February 28, 2007

When I was a little girl in Honolulu, I liked to sit in school and look out the windows at the rain-bird sprinklers shooting long sprays of water over the kick-ball field. They made a far off, hypnotic sound that mesmerized me. I should have been listening to my teachers but the sprinklers were more lyrical, like liquid dancers, the water arcing through the bright air, charged with light filled rainbows, before landing in the dry dirt at home base in tiny, dusty explosions.

My teachers seemed cranky. They were mostly second generation, plantation era Japanese women who saw little value in daydreaming and who found opinionated little pigtailed girls who hummed unconsciously a problem to be dealt with. My teachers had worked hard to get where they were and they admired students who were conscientious and obeyed rules. As an adult I understand this better.  But back then I lived in my imagination and I had yet to be crimped into shape by experience.

When I was about ten, a public library was built within walking distance of my house and I spent much time there. After I finished the young adult books that my older sister recommended, I wandered the isles of adult books. Not knowing one author from another I pulled books at random and continued to read.

My education was hit or miss. I learned a lot and yet missed vast areas of information. I was not considered one of the smart kids because I was lazy and I harbored a dirty little secret. I can’t spell. I am the worst speller you know and that can wreck havoc on a kid’s self esteem. The other day a person who reads this column asked me if I have always been a writer. It made me smile. I never dared to write at all until I was given this assignment and I took it on a dare.

Writing Island Girl for the Haleakala Times has been like growing up.

Because I don’t really know the rules of writing I have instead been candid. Many of you know me surprisingly well. Sometimes I would wait with dread for the reaction of readers. But you have always surprised me. I knew a story was good if my phone rang with a reader’s response or if you stopped me at the grocery store remembering odd
details. For this, and for reading my columns year after year, I thank you from the deepest part of my heart.

Through writing this I have felt connected to each of you in the oddest way, as if I were reporting from a distant planet that is, in fact, only as far away as my personal vantage point.

Haleakala Times has decided to devote budget and column space to investigative reporting, political commentary and community news, thus eliminating regular paid columns. The motives seem good. But I needed and wanted to say, Thank You for reading. Your responses have been a treasure to me. The process of writing has been a nutrient. It has made me realize how much we all have in common. Please stay in touch, put your own thoughts down and send them anywhere. After all, we’re all in this together.

Mahalo nui,

    Ginger

Ginger Johnson