Meditations of My Heart
“Brass Whale Oil Lamps”
Sue Johnson
Sue Johnson is family to Keawalaʻi Congregational Church through the Cockett ʻohana. Her father Christopher Cockett was born on July 29, 1895. He died on July 21, 1987. Her mother, Mary Cockett, was born on January 21, 1908 and died on November 17, 1988. What follows is her memory of the story of one of two brass whale oil lamps that remain from several lamps that once hung from the church ceiling.
The following story is what I remember about the history of the brass whale oil lamps which King George gave to King Kalākaua and that King Kālakaua gave to the church.
Sometime about what I think was 1975, my folks were at the church cleaning it up, and they found some remnants of old brass lamps “under the church,” according to my mom. They apparently found several lamp bases, in varying degrees of disrepair, and several shattered glass shades, along with two unbroken shades. They brought them home.
As there was only one bright pink glass shade and one aqua blue glass shade, they decided to restore only two lamps. I remember my dad enjoying working on them, kind of reshaping then putting them together, polishing them.
When the lamps were restored, my folks did not know what to do with them. At that time Keawalaʻi had no regular minister, only short-term ministers who were often semi-retired and who would come for 90 days and then leave. My folks were aware that the lamps were valuable and they didn’t just want to leave them at the church. I can remember her walking up the road every Sunday, carrying them to church, and placing them on either side of the altar.
My dad died in 1987 and when my mom died in 1988, I did not know what to do with the lamps as I was living on the “mainland” full-time and I wanted them to remain in Mākena. As the church still had no regular minister, I decided to give them to Auntie Caroline DeLima since she lived close to Keawalaʻi and since I knew that she, too, would take good care of them.
That’s my story. I know my mom is happy knowing that at least one of the lamps has been returned to the church.
Singing in the Choir”
Beth Gawain
Beth Gawain of Kīhei was one of the founding members of Nā Leo Nahenahe when the choir first met in February 1998. For over a decade Beth has been a faithful member of the choir and church, having also served as a trustee. On Sunday, September 27, 2009 Stephen Haines, Choir Director, presented Beth with lei as an “Affirmation of Ministry” for her years of service.
Beth shared her thoughts that day about the significance of music in her life. Here, she shares her manaʻo further.
On Sunday 17 September 2009 the Keawalaʻi Church honored me by giving me a very beautiful orchid lei. I was being thanked for years of singing in the choir and serving on the Choir Committee. I was deeply touched.
I spoke of how much I’ve always loved to sing. Although my voice is nothing special, I can carry a tune, and love using song as a way of expressing ourselves and as a way of being together.
From the smallest child I’d join with my mother singing as she worked around the house or did handcrafts. Now people turn on the radio, but our real blessing was that THERE WAS NO RADIO yet. This was early 1920s and radios were not yet common, and anyway there were no music broadcasts. Until we had a wind-up Victrola, the only music in the world was LIVE music.
When people got together in the evenings, they sang. Many homes had a piano and there was always someone who could play well enough to lead. There were also banjos and harmonicas. Everyone sang. It didn’t matter at all if someone didn’t sing well. It was what we did together.
I’m interested to notice that all over the world it has been common in human evolution – that a tribe would gather and they would sing and dance. It was an early form of expressing that we are “us.” To vocalize rhythmically is a way of bonding, and of celebrating or mourning. It is also a way to work up energy for a group effort, or to give rhythm to group movement that requires coordination, such as paddling or heaving a heavy weight or swinging hammers and axes.
A particular song would express the identity of one group from another. Each team or fraternity or church tended to have a particular song. If you heard YOUR team’s song among a group of strangers, you knew at once that someone here is “one-of-us.” When singing “our song” together, as at the end of a gathering, we all sing with particular fervor and feel deep emotion and belonging.
So that is what I’ve experienced singing in the choir. And singing four-part harmony is especially bonding because together we are creating this GLORIOUS sound that none of us can make ALONE. We, each of us, must be very aware of how the note that I am singing relates to each of the other tones and how my sound must be just SO, to combine and blend and do its share to make such magnificence.
And of course singing in this space, this church, with its perfect acoustics, and so much mana! A great privilege and one of the treasured memories of my life to praise God in this so satisfying a way all these years.
April 15th In Kuriyu Sanatorium
Taka Harada
On April 14th we had breakfast at the Asakusa View Hotel. We were looking forward to the visit to Kusatsu City, an area known for its onsen or hot springs and ski resorts. We were on the second leg of our trip.
We traveled for 4 ½ hours to visit the Kuriyu Sanatorium located in Kusatsu City. Little did we anticipate the tremendous emotional experience that would result from this visit. It was to a place where history records some of the most horrific stories told about patient suffering and human misery.
Kusatsu City is located half way up the mountain range that surrounds the city. As we approached the city limits, steam could be seen in the forest and within the city. It reminded me of the Big Island Kïlauea Volcano area where the steam and sulfur smell of volcanic activity is everywhere. The only difference was the 40 degree temperature and the beautiful sakura in full bloom.
After the long ride to Kuriyu Sanatorim, we were greeted by Akiko and Mr. Fujita, whom we met in Kalaupapa at our annual Ka ‘Ohana Kalaupapa meeting. We had a tour of the facilities and visited the notorious jail-like holding facilities which sanatorium authorities used to punish patients who were disorderly.
Many died in this facility. It was closed when patients and families protested the inhumane treatment of patients at this facility. It was used during the early years of Hansen’s disease treatment. The rooms were no larger than 5 feet by 5 feet with little sanitation and the winters were extremely cold and many died from the exposure to the elements.
We were then taken to the memorial where the ashes of patients and of the innocent aborted fetuses were enshrined. It was a difficult reminder of the visit to Suruga and the reminder of Takatsu. It was a beautiful area where pine trees and other tall trees surrounded the memorial.
After this visit, we were taken to our quarters and assigned our rooms. As we disembarked from the bus, I noticed the area was surrounded by snow-capped mountain ranges. It was spectacular as I took in the awe-inspiring surroundings. It brought back memories of how beautiful Kalaupapa is today.
The area creates the same feelings and you become consumed by the peacefulness and beauty of the area. It was here, that we were privilege to talk with Mr. Sakurai, whose daughter Mariko is memorialized with the others whose destiny was caught up in the hysteria and fear that surrounded those discovered with Hansen’s disease. I previously shared what followed in our interview with Mr. Sakurai.
In the early morning of April 15th, I had gotten up early morn to do my writing. I opened the back door of my room. Before me was one of the most spectacular sights I have ever seen. Far beyond the city limits were mountain ranges that clearly outlined the morning skies. There were fingers of light shooting into the dark morning skies whose magic slowly changed the sky from gray to light orange to bright red.
As I beheld this sight, I was overwhelmed by the scene before me knowing that this was witnessed so many times before by patients seeking hope and healing from the scourge of Hansen’s disease. All the words of the previous days and nights rang within my soul. It was so difficult to know how much pain and suffering those who viewed this sight endured for the rest of their lives. There was little hope and yet this scene perhaps offered the only hope for every patient that stood at this door taking in this spectacular sight.
The Sunrise of Another Day - Hope
The sunrise of another day
Hope against hope for something significant
That some day dignity and pride might be theirs
Just for a moment in their lives
The sunrise held a different meaning for the beholder!
The sunrise of another day
Signifying the awesomeness of that Creator
Who faithfully shared his light
The awesome and mighty power
That might someday overcome the hopelessness of the moment!
The sunrise of another day
The one who created the heavens and the earth
The source of comfort and peace
At this moment in time
A spark in each beholder!
The sunrise of another day
Can inspire the inner strength of the downtrodden
Whatever human misery wrought in their lives
A moment of realization
Of hope and love to lift their tired souls!
The sunrise of another day
I joined for a moment with those before me
I stood watching the sunrise pierce the darkness
Of human fear, prejudice, and discrimination
Illuminating pride, wholeness, and freedom!
The sunrise of another day
Brought forth this new day
For Mr. Koji Kaneda and Mr. Tetsuo Sakurai
For Takatsu and Mariko
An eternal story of hope for all mankind!
April 15th, the anniversary of Father Damien’s death,
the emerging sunrise gives me hope!
Taka Harada
September 2007
I gaze upon your final resting place
So peaceful, yet so powerful
For the instant your life was taken on this earth
Little did they realize your immortal soul
Will rise and live again for all mankind to hear your message!
A message of intolerance and fear
The painful cry of a helpless victim
Violently taken from the warmth of your mother's womb!
You stand tall this day as I gaze upon
you, Takatsu
You have finally become a boy and a person
You became a person for all to see
You became more than a fetus to me!
For every moment your story is told
You grow, you stand tall, you mature
You inspire, your voice is heard again
Over and over and over again!
Why is man so fearful and intolerant?
Why is man so scared and frightful?
When will we learn the lessons of the past?
When will we begin to trust one another?
So many questions arise as we see you
Your presence is still among us as a lesson
For out of open hearts and mind
You tell us in a small voice, “No more, No more!”
I stood where you lie
And saw the majestic Mt. Fujiyama
Your spirit, indeed, matches it’s purity and splendor
Your soul so pure and clean
Like the snow on top of the mountain.
I feel my own spirit lift high above
As I witness the unfolding of Mt. Fuji
Like the unfolding story of your spirit!
You represent the very spirit of this
mountain
Takatsu, as people look upon you
Their awe and wonderment will soar
Like the birds I hear all around me!
And the fresh sakura blossoms all around
The quietness of this place engulf me
I am glad I am here this very moment
To feel and hear your story retold for all the world to hear!
Overwhelmed with emotions,
Takatsu's story will be told
as long as I live!