Epilogue

One week ago today the world seemed to be the normal level of messed-up that we have all become sadly accustomed to - unrest in the Middle East, a crazy little dictator in North Korea threatening to blow up the world, and the economic woes of this nation beating its citizens about the head and shoulders. Our televisions had a rotation of grim-faced experts telling us the sky is falling...still. Seven short days later and these images have been replaced by the horrific scenes from Japan. No B-director of disaster movies could do more. It keeps all of us here mindful of how small our issues are in comparison - but that's like kind of telling someone who had his finger cut off that it doesn't hurt because the guy in the next room had both legs cut off. Pain is pain.

In looking back over the past few days, and after a few trips around the island to see how things are, one thing has struck us: the resiliency the people here. On Saturday, Don and I toured the Central Maui area, near the airport and Kanaha Beach - world renowned for it's appeal to kite boarders and windsurfers due to the powerful trade winds that blow through from the north. The parks were closed. The place was a mess. Tangles of branches and tree limbs and trash was pushed up against fences and railings, and a long mass of it lay in the flood control channel, easily a hundred yards from the beach. There are homeless who live there, and while the police had evacuated the park residents, much of their meager belongings remained behind to be pushed up along with all the rest of the debris - bright colors in the brown and gray muddy masses. Parts of the guardrails had been knocked down.

On Wednesday, son Greg arrived from the mainland, and we drove the short distance to Kanaha to show him some of the damage. To our surprise, the place was almost entirely brought back to normal. County workers had been busy - and still were - cleaning up the mess. The parks were open, kiters resuming their sport, and the only sign of the tsunami's calling card was the piles of debris in the flood canal and the as-yet unrepaired railing.

Last friday, as the tsunami continued its surging and receding, we saw the damage in Lahaina Harbor, and in the surrounding waters. Most of the boats stayed out of the harbor until Saturday or Sunday because of the ongoing event and the unpredictability and apparent capriciousness of the waves. But some had not heeded the warning, resulting in a few boats being swamped or overturned, or even breaking apart their own dock. Pieces of planking could be seen floating off the Lahaina sea wall. Ma'alaea Harbor sustained damage to both boats and docks, with the surge completely engulfing the parking lots, and the recession draining nearly all the water. The water beyond the harbor had the color and consistency of watery beef gravy. The snorkel and whale tours that use these harbors only lost a day of revenue, and were up and running by the weekend.

Closer to home, the pool here that was a total mess, filled with mud, sand, and all kinds of debris, was open for business on Saturday as though Friday's mess had never existed. The only lingering effect was the lack of sand at the base of our sea wall, but it is slowly being brought back by the sea.

Maui is breathing a collective sigh as we all return to normal, with our only souvenirs being the stories we share.

Our neighbor island to the southeast did not fare so well. Ali'i Drive, the main drag through Kona Town was completely inundated by the surge. It swept through businesses and hotels - including the recently renovated King Kamehameha Hotel. Don and I were there last October and admired all the new furniture, artwork, and the new shops with their large glass display windows. All destroyed. One shop owner had just opened, and most of her new garments and other merchandise were pulled out to the streets. The five-star Four Seasons Resort in Hualalai in North Kona sustained a devastating hit and won't be open for four to six weeks. But the most astonishing is also the most wrenching - an entire house was swept off into Pristine Kealakekua - or Captain Cook - Bay. The sight of this large two-story home floating along is remarkable, but the scene below is sickening. Pieces of the home's contents are strewn on the fragile reef - a dishwasher, with dishes still in the drawers, a mattress and box spring, a door from some unnamed inner room. But all of this is being addressed and repaired with speed and care.

So, a week ago, as I finish this up, we were waiting for our second siren to sound. And now that we've had a week to clean up, and swap tsunami stories (tstories...!??!), we can offer all our praise and Thanksgiving to a merciful God who spared us, and pray for those in Japan who would give anything for our level of "damage"