For Russ

This is an edit and reprint of a blog post of mine from seven years ago. This week is the seventh anniversary of my good friend’s passing. Enjoy.

My friend Russ just died last Wednesday. Writing a humorous entry has been difficult, so I have avoided posting in the blog for a while. I apologize if anyone keeps up with my blog and actually reads what I write here. Wait, that didn't come out right.
I’ve been considering writing a post dedicated to Russ, but that would be difficult to do while maintaining the family-friendly atmosphere we have here. Many of our adventures are not fit to print, at least not in polite company. But I was remembering the few short months I went to live with Russ while he was living in Hawaii and a recurring theme kept popping up; animals, lots of them. So, this post is dedicated to Russ and the time we spent together in Hawaii. You might find it boring; and if so, I’m truly sorry, but this one is more for me than for anyone else.
I have a lot of good memories of Hawaii: walking to my job each morning as the sun would rise, sometimes creating beautiful rainbows over the Pacific; the waves crashing on the rocks at the Oceanside Café where I worked, the breezes, the tropical plants and fruit trees, and all the animals. Hawaii is a microcosm of amazing creatures.
To begin with, it seems Hawaii has a mongoose problem. Some genius had the critters brought over from Jamaica to help manage the rats in the sugar cane fields and now they’re an out of control menace to endangered species of all sorts on the islands. I say genius because the mongoose are daytime creatures while the rats come out at night. That said, mongoose are cute for being such destructive little things; who doesn't like Rikki-Tikki-Tavi?
Then there are the cats. Probably originating from the sailing vessels that first came to Hawaii, the cats were on board the ships to keep the rats in check there too. They quickly became another out of control problem for Hawaii, but at least they; like the rats, are nocturnal. I have to say, I never did see one rat in all of Hawaii, but if mongoose and cats are your thing, this is the place for you.
Russ explained the mongoose problem to me shortly after my arrival in Kona. He also pointed out the most beautiful geckos I have ever seen. Emerald green; they seemed to shine on their own, with a luminescence that came from within them. These geckos were everywhere; you would get in the car to go to the store and one would be riding on your hood. In the evening one would appear on your ceiling, just outside the circle of light produced by the ceiling fan; waiting for some hapless insect to enter the circle. Then; zip, in it would dart, grabbing the prey and off it would go, back into the darkness to dine in privacy.
Russ took me swimming in Kealakakua Bay once. I don’t know why he took me there since he was terrified of sharks, but he pointed out the Captain Cook monument and we looked at chicks. I did get him in the water with me for a little while. We swam out to some rocks off shore and snorkeled around looking at the red, black, yellow and multi-colored fish that hovered close to the rocks. These rocks jutted out of the seabed about fifteen or twenty feet and were literally covered with starfish and red and purple sea urchins. Looking out into the ocean while underwater can be rather unsettling. The bright blue water turns into an impenetrable gloom, out of which anything sinister could emerge; sharks, killer whales, politicians. After some minutes of checking out the rocks and fish, Russ got the willies due to the murkiness of the ocean and made for shore. I spent a few more minutes looking around before heading back myself, but Russ was right, the ocean can be spooky. I’d much rather watch a show about it on TV from the dry comfort of my couch.
We also used to go to White Sands beach near our house and go to Jameson’s, a bar there. White Sands is where I almost broke my back body surfing. If you’re ever body surfing and a wave smashes you face-down into the sandy bottom, one thing to keep in mind is that your feet are not supposed to also touch bottom, one on each side of your bewildered head, next to each ear. My body had curled around the wrong way under the incredible power of the wave and my back was sore for days after almost being snapped in half. I didn’t body surf for almost twenty years after that and then I broke my foot. It’s still healing as I write this. Note to self: no more body surfing.
Besides nearly needing a feeding tube, White Sands is also where I dove into a breaker and emerged with a jellyfish wrapped around my arm and face. Kona coffee has nothing on jellyfish for a quick pick-me-up. The poor jellyfish was instantly shredded as I flailed around wildly trying to get it off of me. My lip burned for days. And yet, I still remember my visit to Hawaii being a fun trip.
Once, again at White Sands, Russ and I decided to do something really stupid. We usually took stupid and elevated it to the level of an art form, but this time was special; we decided to swim way out from shore and scare the doody out of ourselves. The Hawaiian islands are volcanic mountains that rise out of the ocean, so naturally you don’t have to swim very far before the water becomes deep, black and terrifying, as I mentioned before. Combine this with the thought of sharks, orcas, riptides and those politicians and you have the makings for one rollicking good time. We left the beach, where the water was bright blue, and waded out to the darker blue water not far from shore. This was amazing for Russ, especially after our trip to Kealakakua Bay. We continued to swim out farther, passing Jameson’s at the end of the little bay and into the open ocean. The water was jet black under our feet. It is unnerving knowing that the island has dropped off under you into several thousand feet of water. We tread water and giggled nervously, mentioning the possibility of riptides and killer whales before heading back to shore. For some reason, the very act of swimming back had the effect of scaring us even more and we found ourselves increasing our speed the closer we got. We had done it! Stupid? Yes. Foolhardy? Definitely. Fun, daring and something I’ll never forget? You know it, but I don't recommend it.
Another time, and another creature entirely, we woke up and went to the kitchen for whatever we could scrounge up to eat and the entire parquet floor was covered in maggots. I asked him if he wasn’t hiding a body under the floorboards. Seriously, the kitchen and dining room floors were writhing with maggots. I don’t know why; I mean, we did party a lot back then, but we cleaned up after ourselves; we took out the trash and did our dishes. Maggots are creepy. Thousands of maggots are creepy and disgusting. It probably had something to do with a mongoose.
The last animal encounter I recall involved a Cane spider. Cane spiders make Tarantulas look small. Google Cane spiders and you will hear all the insidious lies about them being only 3-5 inches in span. I’m sorry, but I’ve lived in Arizona a long time and am used to seeing Tarantulas; I know what a 3-5 inch spider looks like. This spider we found sashaying across our dining room floor; possibly she’d heard about the free maggots, was large enough to cover a dinner plate. Reddish-brown and hairy, she carried an egg sac with her, along with a briefcase, cell phone and the keys to the van she drove up in. Harmless enough, we still wanted her outside where she belonged, maybe even on a different island like Maui or Australia. Russ got a stick to nudge her toward the screen door and out of the house. That’s when she dropped her egg sac. She may have been momentarily laying it aside to better utilize her nunchuck skills, I’m not sure. Russ shooed her out onto the porch and went to pick up the egg sac and place it outside with her as well- when it broke open. Hundreds, no, make that thousands; okay, millions- millions of tiny Cane spiders suddenly scattered all over the dining room floor.  Russ’ loud, anguished cry of, “Oh crap!” could be heard on the next island. I was laughing and cringing, watching all the baby spiders disappear into cracks and crevices throughout the dining room. One second there was an arachnid explosion on our floor, the next you couldn’t even tell they were ever there. I’m sure that to this day there is one house on the Kona coast that never suffers an insect problem, thanks to the hundreds of plate-sized spiders that patrol within its walls.
I love you and miss you Russ. See you in heaven.
T-