Post #453440 by mapes on Tue, May 12, 2009 2:21 PM

Hi, name is Julie.

About three years ago, I made my first of many trips to Oahu, Hawaii. I look back at that first trip with such a smile in my heart. I was a hardcore tourist, did everything a tourist should do..Hilo Hattie shell lei, fire dancer lua's, tacky gifts from ABC, spam sandwiches at McDonalds, the Polynesian Cultural Center....

But something happened to me on that first trip I wasn't expecting, didn't plan or could ever forsee. It came time to leave after a week, and I packed, felt a little sad of course...and we were driving out of the Hilton Hawaiian Village and I saw this woman on the curb just before we turned out..she was sitting there, head in hands, crying next to some suitcases..and I suddenly was hit with "it.""It" was some sort of sense of panic. I didn't want to leave, but instead jump out of the car and run for the hills and find my way back to the lookouts of Sunset Beach, back to the coffee shop, back to the red dirt of the North Shore, to the whales. The sensation was nothing short of crushing grief.

How could I have finally found my way to a place that felt like a soul-home and then be taken from it.

I barely remember the ride back to the HNL, but do remember the embarrassment of the hot tears in the Budget shuttle as we drove to our gate. I couldn't hide what I felt, how I swallowed the air deep in my chest wanting just one more minute..one more minute, please..anything could happen, the plane could be delayed, even by ten minutes..anything...

It was there at the gate I stared with a loss I cannot explain and listened as our flight was announced. It was bone chilling, and I felt liquefied, despondent and so lost in the realization that I really loved the island, the people, the breeze and bugs, the sun and water, the sound of the surf in the morning, the easy smiles on the street....

Twelve hours later, I landed at Detroit to four feet of snow, a hard edgy rush, never any eye contact, all plastic cheap world. I would stay there for six more months with nothing more than blazing furnace sounds chasing away the cold demands of the land. It took me that long to get the nerve to unpack my suitcase and stare in wonder at the sand falling at my feet from dive boots that had walked the North Shore preserves near Dillingham....

In late June, we decided to go back for 21 days. The leaving the second time was no less painful to my heart than the first. I made a promise that this wouldn't be the last time, and it was on that second trip I discovered Bailey's of Oahu.

His shop is like a drug deal you didn't see coming. It's Pink Floyd and your first joint on a summer night with soft black birds fanning the air.

I fell in love with aloha shirts, with Hawaiian art, and I knew then I entered the pact willingly, and with a lot of excitement at knowing nothing and feeling a fire in my head to learn more.

I'll never reach the lofts of Danny E., but I bet we share the same spirit for collecting knowledge about the textiles, their makers, histories and stories.

When I wear aloha, I am aloha in a quiet way no matter where I am.

I've bought the standard books, sometimes I study so much I dream about them at night.

By day, I live in an almost gypsy state from where life calls me to be right now, and have no room to store or really collect, so I must live vicariously through those that do and are so fortunate to be able to.

I very much enjoy Tiki Central, and thought I'd crawl out of my virtual closet that is bare and say hello to everyone.

Your excitement and zest for collecting is beautiful to me.

May you all score something wonderful that makes your heart sing and want to share it.

~julie