Wright On: Joe Kalima was a man of aloha to his core
They always talk about a celebration of life when another good person passes away and if that phrase sometimes make you wonder if it has a core strength or if it just sounds good, this would be a good time to consider the life of Joe Kalima.
They always talk about a celebration of life when another good person passes away and if that phrase sometimes make you wonder if it has a core strength or if it just sounds good, this would be a good time to consider the life of Joe Kalima.
We walk on unsteady ground when we say one person in particular represents the aloha lifestyle for which these islands have become famous around the world, and in that sense, Kalima would have denied, maybe even fought against the suggestion that he was that person.
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Kalima, who was recently taken from us by bladder cancer, would point out others, would begin to name people he thought were superior to him at playing volleyball, or coaching volleyball, or painting, or paddling or coaching paddling.
And yes, in the big picture, there surely were better players, as there must have been a better coach, or a coach with more prestigious competitions and championships behind them. Was he the best paddler? It is something Joe Kalima would disavow, he would point to someone he knew growing up that he always admired, maybe someone who was stronger with the stroke, more durable over time. Others taught him to paddle and he would absolutely credit every one who ever taught him a thing about breathing, timing, the exacting technique that drives the paddle to perfection.
But when you combine it all, and then walk through his house and see his oil paintings, listen to the kind of man he was from those who knew him best?
This was a man whose life identified the personal qualities we all like to think we project as people who respect and try to reflect the meanings of the Hawaiian lifestyle.
We might do it here and there and pat ourselves on the back when we notice, but for him, it was 24/7.
“Words?” said Josh, Kalima’s 30-year-old son when asked what words might describe his father to those who didn’t know him. “Words really don’t do him justice, but if I had to, let’s see … calm would help describe his demeanor, sensible and understanding were qualities he always had.”
Joe Kalima started out as a volleyball player, a really good one who seemed to get the game immediately, and then he became a coach with the Pilipaa volleyball club, translating his tranquil perspective on the world with a measured approach that never rushed the student.
“A lot of people have an image of the kind of coach you would want,” said son Jonah, 32, “but he was actually kind of that guy. He was a tremendous outside hitter, he knew the game mentally and he had the physical tools to be really good, but his knack was that he could immediately go into teaching mode, and take the time you wanted, or that you needed, to explain the game. He could answer every question, but he answered with a demonstration, there was communication, he wanted to know you understood what he was trying to convey.”
That last part may have been something that concerned Joe Kalima, but he had no cause for concern.
“All the people I knew went to him to learn how to paddle and they got that, but more than that, they got relief, I would say stress relief from the world and all the daily stuff we get wrapped around,” said Cat Spina, who moved to the Big Island from Quebec, Ontario, back in 2010. “I wanted to get involved in ocean sports and he was one of the first I ran into at UHH (where she signed up for Kalima’s paddling class), but I didn’t realize the impact he would have on me and others.
“His positive energy, his calm, humble demeanor was so strong I feel like it shaped people around him, I know it did that to me,” she said. “There’s a certain energy being the steersman, like him, and sitting right in front of him can be intimidating, but he made it work so well; you can’t be negative, but at the same time you have to point out issues. His motives were so pure, his nature was so calming that I felt it worked for all of us who knew him.
“I’ll miss him forever.”
Kalima was only 63 when cancer took him, but close to the end it had ravaged his body to the point that Spina didn’t recognize him at first when she saw him in a grocery store.
From volleyball players who looked up to him to the Puna Canoe Club and the entire paddling community on the Big Island, Kalima was the fountainhead, the source of understanding and the energy center for the sport.
His presence seemed vital to the community itself and over time he became more than just a member, even a central figure in the community, he was actually the glue that bonded everyone.
His best friend knew that early on. Craig Kamahele, more popularly known as Captain Craig, the KWXX DJ, attended Keaukaha Elementary, Hilo middle and Hilo High School with Kalima. They did everything together, and they were linked for all those years by their last names.
“When they called roll, I was next to him in every class from elementary through high school graduation,” Kamahele said. “He literally felt like my brother all these years, the brother I never had, the brother from a different mother. He was the best man at my wedding, I was the best man at his wedding and he will always be, to me, the living example of what I think of when I think of a noble Hawaiian.
“His humility was very deep and very real. It was always there, it had an effect on everything he did and said throughout his life.
“We were both swimmers,” Kamahele said, “but in the sprints, the 50 and the 100? That was my game, he could never beat me except when we went for the BIIF championship in the 100, it was very close, we touched at the same time, I thought I won, he thought he won, and the decision came back that he won.
“He felt bad about it because he thought it hurt me or something, he would try to give me that medal he won. We’d be talking, eating dinner or something and he’d say, ‘You can have my medal, let me get it for you,’ and I’d have to stop him, this happened 35 tears later.”
A couple weeks back, Hilo High was celebrating its 45th reunion of their graduating class. Kamahele hadn’t realized what serious trouble Kalima was in, but he planned to take his friend to the reunion. He went to Kalima’s room at Pohai Malama to cheer him and convince him to come with him to the reunion.
“He lost so much weight I almost didn’t recognize him,” Kamahele said, “but he looked comfortable, peaceful. I thought he was sleeping but they said, ‘No, he passed.’”
A few hours later, Kamahele attended the reunion alone and at one point, stood up and spoke into a microphone.
“I told the room what happened,” he said, “and of course, we all knew Joe. There were tears, and every glass in the room was raised, lighters and cellphones were lit and held high. It was all we could do.”
Kalima took a college art class at the University of Hawaii and suddenly turned it into another window into his soul. He became a prolific oil painter as well as a champion outside hitter in volleyball and the engine house, of sorts, for the paddling community.
If you’re one of those who collects Merrie Monarch posters, check to see if you have ones from the 50th and 51st events — those are works of art by Joe Kalima.
Breeani Sumera-Lee, 29, is a friend of the Kalima ohana who spent a lot of time with “Uncle Joe.”
A few days before he passed, Kalima was reading a book with her called “The Go Giver,” which one review described as a book that preaches “The surest path to success—in all senses of that overused word—is to give.”
That’s what Sumera-Lee got from Joe himself.
“As we read the book casually, it spoke in one of the chapters about giving and receiving, it says we can’t just be exhaling forever, we have to inhale eventually. Similarly, our hearts have to relax, but they also have to contract, that receiving is the natural result of giving.
“As we reflected on the chapter, we sat in silence for a while and pondered what it meant,” she said. “As we sat, I looked around and saw so much love, I saw his children loving him, his mother comforting him, the deep appreciation from all around.
“After a few moments passed,” Sumera-Lee said, “he turned to me and said, ‘So this is what it’s like to receive? I feel loved.’”
She told him, yes, people love you and you will always feel and you will always know that you are loved.”
And he does know that love, eternally.
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