Springfield Tikis

Still on my first car trip across the US, in 1953, at about 3 years and about 9 months. We reached Missouri, where my Mother's family lived. The memory that stands out is eating at a restaurant in Springfield, Missouri, that had a Tiki Room.

The room had a high pitched ceiling with visible rafters. Along each of the long sides there were standing carved wooden statues, which I know now to have been copies of the famous statues at Pu'uhonua o Hōnaunau, the City of Refuge on the Big island, where Hawaiian outcasts could escape death for breaking kapu.

It was yet another "gotcha' moment for my Father. I asked what the statues were about. I'd never seen anything like them. My Father said, "How can he not know what they are if he's so knowledgeable about all things Hawaiian?"

Even my Mother marveled at my ignorance. "They're tikis, stupid! They're Hawaiian gods! You speak Hawaiian, you should know what they are!"

I couldn't imagine what was wrong with me. I didn't know things I was supposed to know. I didn't know why. I didn't have any way of understanding that what they were expecting of me was absurd. Were Lani and Lono supposed to show me photos of every conceivable Hawaiian artifact during their lunch breaks in order prove some points to my parents months later? Were they supposed to bring copies of the statues to work, so I'd know how big they were?

Despite the pain at the time, I think they did me a favor. They created another link between the haole world and the Hawaiian world. It was a stupid link, but anything that could bridge the worlds could help keep the memories of the Hawaiian world alive.