310 Welcome Home

In the morning I phone a friend, walk to her apartment and borrow her car.


In a very confused state of mind I drive through the American traffic to a magazine publisher’s office—the same office where Elizabeth and I met and got to know and like each other…but the office is locked. “The Hawaii Beacon Magazine” is extinguished--gone out of business.


I drive to the office of the "Hawaii Herald", the Japanese language newspaper I edited for a while. It’s dead too.


I drive by the University of Hawaii in Manoa Valley-- Toshi’s “Cosmic Computer” has been removed from the lawn leaving no trace.


I visit an old musician friend. He is into a new thing, which is making him lots of money—he is touring mainland America with a “Hawaiian Show”—he says it’s too bad my skin is not brown or he could hire me.


That’s my first day “home”.


I return the car and hike up into the mountains above Honolulu, pushing my way through the underbrush to a cliff where you can see the city below. I used to come up here alone when I was troubled to think, though I thought different thoughts then.


I cut loose and went my own way—did I expect any welcome home?


Wrapped in my Afghani coat, I sleep. 

About midnight it starts to rain--a real Hawaiian downpour with floods of water in pitch-black darkness. It’s impossible to climb back down the cliff to find shelter. Totally drenched and heavy with water, my sheepskin coat starts to fall apart. 

I wrap all the plastic sheeting I have around my diary to keep it dry then crouch and finally lay exhausted in the rain.  


In a confusion of emotion, I start to cry. I cry as I haven’t cried for years (grown men don’t cry) sobbing until my body aches. Then I sleep.

...