You can learn a thing or two about organization by attending a family gathering at ‘Anini Beach Park when the Corpuz family rolls in every Labor Day weekend. “We’ve been doing this for at least 10 years,” said family matriarch
You can learn a thing or two about organization by attending a family gathering at ‘Anini Beach Park when the Corpuz family rolls in every Labor Day weekend.
“We’ve been doing this for at least 10 years,” said family matriarch Gloria Corpuz.
There, seven silver tarps arc over a generous length of lawn. Dozens and dozens of tents, tables — and even a television — are protected from the heat and rain that are part of any family outing in August.
“There are about 50 of us this time,” Corpuz said, as she patted the back of her great grand-baby. That’s three generations under one (extended) tent.
Wandering between the coolers and picnic tables, there isn’t a Tupperware or Coleman stove out of place. Most the tents are bedecked with air mattresses, propane lamps, neat stacks of plastic containers and lawn chairs lazing on makeshift lanais. Even the sheets are tucked in on the temporary beds.
“We all work together,” Corpuz said.
But her son-in-law, Kiko Bukoski, reveals a more direct truth about Kaua‘i and the family’s ability to raise such a polished temporary dwelling: “In case something blow away your house, you can still live in one tent.”
Two families secure the site on Friday before the holiday weekend. One by one the rest of the clan trickles in to erect tents and organize an eating area.
“All the moms cook,” said Corpuz. “And everyone pitches in to clean up.”
Each family cooks a meal. “Then we all get together and share.”
“This morning,” said Loke Sasil, one of Corpuz’s four daughters-in-law, “we had banana pancakes, Vienna sausage, bacon and fruit.”
Sasil sat at a low table with a small cutting board on her lap speckled with tiny shells. Jayze, one of her 18-month-old twins, sat quietly in her lap tasting the shells. “No, no,” she said, as she continued her task of showing the boy how she aimed her needle through the hole in the tiny pinkish shell.
Shar, Sasil’s 22-year-old daughter, sat beside her stringing shells from a cutting board as well.
“This is what we do at ‘Anini,” said Sasil. “We collect the kahelelani shells with tweezers from this beach.”
Sasil’s sister, Haddie, sends a nephew to her truck to retrieve a chunky strand of ‘opihi. ‘Opihi is a black limpet, and this particular strand has opihi the size of a quarter. Salted and eaten raw, she describes the taste as similar to a clam.
Pipipi is another tiny black shell the women slip onto the tip of the needle, as well as Job’s tears and puka shells.
“The Job’s tears get whiter as they age,” Loke Sasil said, as she drizzled the seeds between her fingers and back into a plastic tray that looked like it might house fishing tackle.
“For the puka shells with yellow and pink,” Haddie Sasil said “you have to go to Ha‘ena early in the morning.”
“Our mother taught us to bead shells,” said Loke Sasil. “This is a tradition passed down from the Hawaiian side of the family.”
While this small representation of the family spends the morning making jewelry, others play volleyball, card games, swim, and of course, go fishing. Two eager boys are thrilled to display the morning’s catch — a giant lobster. Lobster season opened the day before and many families are diving for the crustacean at their secret spots.
When the holiday weekend wound down Monday, everyone pulled together to bring down the tent city.
It takes all hands to maneuver the giant silver tarps that shaded the Corpuz family for another Labor Day reunion.
Meanwhile, bathing suits, wet suits and towels whip in the Tradewinds, and a handful of cousins and aunties played spades at a picnic table in the shade.
