Twenty-first century Molokai PROUDLY does NOT have a traffic light, not'in', on the entire island! Well that is.... if you don't count the traffic light on sale 2O years at Liu's junk and schleppp shop.
Oh, other odd purists insist that the tiny caution light at the fire station in Kaunakakai counts. And den a small but vocal minority stand firm, "No waze-Hozaze." "Waze!" Wha'?
The fire light thingie is used: adrenalin elated fire truck dash to another summer brushfire in the foothills east of town, monthly arson or not. Never seen the uh.. thingie used. I am rarely found hanging out in fiery anticipation.
So naturally the other day I'm waiting at the four corners stop sign in Kaunakakai, lurping and spacing, waiting to make a left east. Traffic is steady, 50 yard 30 mph intervals and slowing. Facing me is an impatient big wheeler with roll bar. He says, "r.r..ruh RUH REH reh rehhh...." stressing youthful folly. My kinda klassick '82 Honda Accord idles arythmically, fourth best.
One eastward ho car slows down but has no blinker on in the come into town. I could GO..but...maybe he's going straight, but no, he turns. AW! My head swivels to the pace of wipers glacking thru tropical storm mud super crunchy peanut butter. Too FRICKin' moocho!
I spazz ta-ti-pah-p.p..the gas pedal, hit the break, chicken out several times. Why did the filipino chicken cross the road? ...He got better odds........ Eons... two, three, seventeen imagined city red. Dang fang! Go left you old fuht. I DO; I do already.
Traffic....light...nice...is my thought in motion east, triggering ambivalence, gah feh feelings, Halawa bound clash of values beyond east and west, waterfalls and philosophy.
Inevitable conclusion: light required. I resist. Symbols and nonsymbols have great mana. But if we save lives and prevent accidents, mo' bettah. Right, Right?
How do you measure more subtle changes behind closed bedroom doors, realities, preferences, public need generated by real time adjustments, pundits, pollsters? Its own wave redeemable. Whew, oy, li' dat!
Other hardhead hardy folk, Molokai homestanders, take a primordial pride in literal lightlessness, a keen figurative awareness of the price-you-pay-fo'-progress.
Buht tampered tweaked youth and other progressive aggressive adventure seekers YEARN, big time, for any fast food joint, movie theatre, bowling alley or easy greasy chinese take-out. Jobs for everyone.
Old timers in spirit mostly homecook or track down a plate lunch wagon. They prefer listening to nightly peace and quiet songs, stars-ablaze tv snuffle somewhere an obtrusive howdy.
As key groups go-get-the-flag-ma unify, surprisingly they have supported uneqivocally: "Yes, we want no traffic light." But genuinely tuff times and back-assword political pilikia slamming our island paradise have created a neomodern secret circle of "traffic light needed" yodel mantras behind the pro groundswell.
These powerful forces aver commercial action would provide symbolic (p)impetus to attract nervous nellies wanting to give Molokai a fair share. No fair share is unfair; we agree. Bet the Ranch.
"Certainly we are aware of an informed, vocal, radical, anarchistic, anti, oppoznik minority who suggest that a fair share requires concomitant coital er societal 'whiteman's burden" deeds. But HAH YOU BETCHA, the non-rooskie rads trip themselves on their own petards.
Are the soft-hearts aware of the implied joyful corollary: the fairness of taking the unfair share? Wall St. with PHD's in starched grey zoots tells us that greed is good. Good business jobsa plenty will happen. What is good for Wall St. is good for the lonely.
We remain lost in the metaphysical sense and paradoxically FOUND in the compass sense. Encompass?
HOWEVAHS! My friend Kawika, known for his common sense says, "Ba, no need light. Need da kine ONLY w'en da kine chekks come in. Den we get doze who protect and serve to wear day glo orange vests and officesuh white gloves at da fouah co'nuhs fo' direck, eh?" Big simultaneous Bu smiles. "Double Shooootzz" says a relieved I.
Pau fo' nau!
Email: kimo@molokai.com