But hey! You get to
read that story now.
A Bad Sense of
Direction
I once got lost. This happened after Sunday School when I
decided to go along with a friend to his parent’s store, just down the street
from the Church of the Holy Cross.
The church was located on Kinoole Street
next to Lincoln Park. They’ve since moved the church, following a fund-raising
effort to build a new one. This took place during my junior high days, but we’ll
cover it later on.
Glenn Miyao and I had cut across Lincoln Park to Kilauea
Avenue and had begun our adventurous preschool Sunday escapade. All of a sudden
– and I really don’t know how it happened, Glenn had disappeared, his family’s
store was nowhere in sight. For the life of me, I didn’t know where I was.
Of course, I cried and cried until someone took me into a
store and calmed me down. After I told them who my parents were and what my
phone number was, they called my parents. Dad miraculously and heroically
arrived to swoop me into his arms and take me home.
(By the way, I do remember my old telephone number. These
were the days when telephone numbers in Hilo were four or five digits. Ours was
4758. Dad’s office was 51748.)
In retrospect, I wasn’t very far from the church, just about
a block or so away, but to a little kid in unfamiliar surroundings, even a mere
half block or less is forever. I can only surmise that Dad had gone home after
Sunday service, worried sick about me (not to mention Mom).
When we got home, there was Mom, ready to console me and
take me into her arms. You just don’t know how much you love your parents until
you see them after being lost. I’m sure I gave them ample opportunity in the
years that followed to worry about me, but if nothing else, I made sure I never
got lost again.
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