The first Christmas I spent away from home was during my freshman year at the University of Washington.
Back then, going away to college was like going to the moon. My brother, five years older and an Oregon Duck, said that after a long layover on Oahu, he had a 12-hour plane ride to Portland where he got on a bus for another three-hour trek to Eugene. I’m tired just thinking about it.
By the time I left home in 1963, the flight from Honolulu to Seattle was a mere eight hours, but you still knew you were going far, far away.
Miss Genung, Hilo High School counselor, wanted me to attend college in Pennsylvania. I said no. Eight hours to cross the Pacific, then another eight to the East Coast. Is she nuts?
For young people out there, here’s a quick look at student life in bygone days. Try not to be jealous.
I shared a small dormitory room with Carolyn, a friendly Japanese-American from eastern Washington. We had an in-house telephone, but for outside calls, there was a pay phone booth down the hall.
When it rang, whoever was passing answered and then knocked on the door of the unlucky resident getting the call. I say unlucky because for Hawaii students, a long-distance summons usually meant bad news. And it was fast-talking bad news, because callers were paying by the minute.
If we needed to telephone home, we had to beg, borrow or steal loose change from friends and strangers to feed into pay phone coin slots. You didn’t want to get cut off in the middle of your desperate plea to send more money.
On school breaks, it was poho for parents to bring us home for a measly two weeks, so there had to be a plan for when dorm kitchens shut down.
With the holidays looming, I got lucky when Russell, a Hilo friend, told me he and another student were looking for riders to accompany them driving nonstop to Los Angeles. They would take turns, and passengers like me would help pay for gas and make small talk to keep drivers awake.
I could do that!
After amassing coins to call my folks for their blessing, I told Russell to count me in. My parents knew his, and gave their cautious OK for my first road trip.
After two days of driving, we arrived in L.A. and stayed with other Hilo friends. A bonus was the Rose Bowl on New Year’s Day because the Washington Huskies were playing. (They lost, so never mind.) We had no money for football tickets but watched the parade for free. The roses! The floats! The beauty queens! It was like a dream, but maybe I just needed sleep.
This is how I spent my first Christmas away from home. I was in a warm and sunny place, hanging out with friends and wolfing down real rice. It was almost like being in Hawaii.
Russell and I remained pals for the rest of our lives, meeting up in Hilo and California whenever we could. He died 25 years ago, way too young. He went to sleep one night and didn’t wake up the next morning. I always think this is how I would like to depart the planet, but … not yet! I still have too many people to annoy.
There’s a time when holidays evolve from making memories to savoring them. This is my Mele Kalikimaka memory of Russell, Road Trip and Rose Bowl.
Mahalo for good friends and good times.
Rochelle delaCruz was born in Hilo, graduated from Hilo High School, then left to go to college. After teaching for 30 years in Seattle, Wash., she retired and returned home to Hawaii. She welcomes your comments at rainysideview@gmail.com. Her column appears every other Monday.
