Anyone with a life that’s not too busy might remember that I’ve written two columns about my perceptions as a newcomer here on Kaua’i. This week I thought I’d talk a little about the reactions of other folks when you
Anyone with a life that’s not too busy might remember that I’ve written two columns about my perceptions as a newcomer here on Kaua’i.
This week I thought I’d talk a little about the reactions of other folks when you move 3,000 miles. And why someone might make such a move, anyway.
I briefly single-parented both of my daughters at various times during their teenage years. My oldest daughter is relatively steady, likes her job, likes her new boyfriend, loves her son and gets some child support from her ex-husband. So I didn’t worry too much about leaving her.
We saw each other once a week in the Northwest, but I learned not to freak if she canceled. For better or worse, and she would probably choose the latter, I have a certain confidence that Gina will usually land on her feet.
My younger daughter, 22, is a different story. I’ve always been close to her, and that’s possibly because she’s more like me than her sister is, at least on the surface.
People who know me know I have a sense of humor that is more poor-man’s Robin Williams than Bob Hope. My father had it and my younger daughter has it.
The hot temper, finally mellowing in me as I’m dragged by gravity and time, kicking and screaming into middle age, is still a fiery beacon for Vanessa.
On many levels, we understand each other. We talked almost every night by phone across Puget Sound and always saw each other at least once a week, so I thought she would be irritated when she heard I was Hawai’i bound.
Surprisingly, she was more sad than mad. We’re e-mailing a lot, but it’s not quite the same.
My 81-year-old mother tried to make the move yet one more sin in a life full of them. Mom’s world viewpoint can best be described as Catholic medieval, although in person she’s a lot of fun.
But her contention that I was moving even father away from the home ground (Cincinnati, Ohio) doesn’t really hold water. Mom and I talked religiously by phone once a week when I was in Seattle; we’ll still do that here.
I still miss her and my sister Karen and other family folk and childhood friends, but I’ve been gone so long from Cincinnati (16 years) that the place itself has little pull for me.
I’ve returned six times to visit, but if the folks I keep going back to see moved, I’d never go back there again. I love my family and friends; I never liked Cincinnati much.
The last two girlfriends and I remain friendly. I e-mail one, write letters to the other. But the romantic parts of both relationships had foundered before I moved on. This was the perfect time to try something different.
The longer I’m here, though—18 days now—the more I realize I’m not that unique.
Even though it no longer takes three weeks and a boat full of Herman Melvilles to get here, moving to Kaua’i requires a choice of some sort, unless you were born here, or beached kicking and screaming as a child, because this is where mommy and daddy wanted to be.
I’ve already talked to folks from Taiwan, California and Canada who came here 20, 12 and five years ago for their own reasons.
There are places that attract people who are looking for something different, something new. Kaua’i is one of those places.
Cincinnati was where I was born. I had no choice in the matter.
Sun Valley was a mountain retreat where I went to hide after my marriage failed.
Seattle is my favorite city and I always return there when I want urban.
Friends there told me Kaua’i was the most beautiful place in the world. I wanted to see for myself.
That’s how I got here. How about you?
Staff writer Dennis Wilken can be reached at 245-3681 (ext. 252) or dwilken@pulitzer.net
