The second tape was Elvis’s Blue Hawaii, which had been the catalyst for our decision to be married in Hawaii when we watched it weeks ago.
This time as we watched Chad and Maile exchange vows and glide down the beautiful lagoon together, we envisioned ourselves in that enchanted place, and somehow it all made sense again.
Finally, Maggie’s words sealed the deal. “Walt, you have loved Elvis all your life. You rescued his lost tapes and helped introduce his music to a whole new generation. You performed his songs for thousands of people, and most importantly, you were the King when you asked me to be your wife. It just wouldn’t be right any other way.”
Is she special or what?
“And I have another surprise. Sammy is picking us up after lunch, and we’re going to meet Uncle Larry at the Palms and tour the grounds.”
Cool!
I’m not sure what I was expecting when we met
Uncle Larry, but I certainly wasn’t disappointed.
He was about our age, maybe a little older. He was small in stature, but you could tell right away that he had a heart as big as Mount Wai’ale’ale. He had lived on the island all his life, and we found him to be the embodiment of the spirit of aloha.
As we toured the grounds, the ruins came to life as he shared the stories of his youth. He pointed out the cottage where Elvis stayed during the filming of the movie and the rock wall he crawled over at night to meet the young Larry who showed him around the island. We stood in what was left of the hotel’s showroom and could almost feel the ghosts of Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, and royalty from around the world. We imagined the famous torchlight ceremony that ushered in the evening’s festivities for over forty years.
And suddenly the resort was no longer just the ruins left devastated by Iniki but a memorial to Hawaii’s glorious past and a shrine to one of the most famous wedding scenes in cinematic history.
And we were going to be a part of it all.
I awoke early the next morning. Maggie was still deep in sleep when I slipped out of bed. I stood at the bedside and watched the rhythmic pattern of her breathing, her auburn tresses cascading over her face, and I marveled at how this lovely creature had come into my life.
In a few short hours she would become my wife, and we would spend our remaining years together.
I quietly slid open the door to the lanai and watched the first rays of the morning sun cast its golden splendor on the surface of the sea.
It seemed as if the gentle trade winds had blown the cobwebs from my mind and the sixty-seven years of my life lay spread out before me.
I saw the years of my youth spent on my grandparents’ farm, the turbulent years of puberty and young adulthood when I struggled to find who I wanted to be, and the mundane but successful years as a realtor.
Then I saw my life change dramatically that day in the parking lot when a young thug assaulted an elderly woman.
In one short year, my life had been transformed from one of mere existence to one of purpose.
I reflected on what I had accomplished since enlisting in the army of Lady Justice, and the burning I felt deep in my bosom told me that I was doing what I was meant to do.
One never knows how many more years they will be given, but whatever that number will be, I know they will be well spent with the two most important women in my life.
As if to add confirmation to my reverie, I felt an arm slide around my waist and a warm body press against me, and we stood silently together watching the dawn of the first day of the rest of our lives together.
At last the time had come.
We met Willie and Mary by the pool.
The casual observer would never have guessed that we were a wedding party.
Willie had evidently done some shopping in my absence and was resplendent in a new aloha shirt covered with buxom girls perched seductively on surfboards. Not traditional wedding attire, but when in Rome.
Mary was decked out in a muumuu that had more flowers than a president’s funeral. I hoped we wouldn’t be attacked by a swarm of bees or hummingbirds.
In keeping with the Elvis Blue Hawaii wedding theme, I wore a white billowy shirt and white pants with a red sash around the waist, and Maggie wore a full-length lavender Hawaiian dress.
I wore a red lei around my neck, and Maggie had a white one made of the fragrant tuberose.
Our little group was colorful if nothing else.
Sammy picked us up at the bell desk. The car was strangely silent during the twenty-minute drive to the
Coco Palms. I think we were all silently holding our collective breaths, wondering if this long awaited event was actually going to materialize or if fate would, once again, intervene to delay our special day.
When the car pulled into the parking area without incident, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
We were really getting married!
Uncle Larry met us at the gate, and together we strolled down the path to the footbridge over the lagoon. Larry’s wife and daughter were there with their instruments.
Beautiful arrangements of heleconia, anthurium, protea, and ginger added their vibrant hues to the lush tropical setting. Stately palms gently swayed with the ebb and flow of the gentle trade winds, and the lagoon reflected the azure blue of the cloudless sky.
Maggie squeezed my hand.
“It’s just perfect,” I heard her whisper.
Then I noticed another figure standing quietly to the side.
Uncle Larry had told us that while he would be putting the wedding together, he was not an ordained minister, so he would provide someone with the proper credentials to officiate the ceremony.
I’m not sure exactly what I was expecting, but this guy wasn’t it.
He looked to be about my age. He was tall and gaunt. His scruffy salt-and-pepper beard matched his long hair that had been pulled back into a ponytail. His full, flowing robe touched the ground and was fastened by a rope tied loosely around his waist.
He looked like he had just spent the weekend at Woodstock.
He had, no doubt, seen our apprehension. He stepped forward, his hand extended, and simply said,
“Aloha. I’m Reverend Winslow. I am honored to be a part of your special day.”
As I took his hand and met the gaze of his clear blue eyes, I felt the same spirit that had surrounded Uncle Larry the first time we met, and I instinctively knew that we were in good hands.
He led us to the center of the footbridge. Willie was on my left, Maggie was on my right, and Mary stood next to Maggie.
I had played this moment over and over in my mind a hundred times. I was only going to do this once, and I wanted it to be perfect.
It was.
I hadn’t noticed that Reverend Winslow had carried a large conch shell onto the footbridge. He held the shell aloft.
“In Hawaii, sacred ceremonies begin by invoking the presence of the Great Spirit. We do this with the blowing of the conch. I will blow three times to invite the Great Spirit. In the marriage ceremony, the length of the third note will tell us the length of your time together. I will do my best to sustain many years for the two of you.”
With that, he tilted his head and brought the shell to his lips.
We were all amazed at the clear, pure tone that resonated from the shell and seemed to drift heavenward on the warm tropical breeze.
He blew a second time, the note sustained for maybe ten seconds.
He lowered the shell momentarily, and as he filled his lungs with air, Maggie grabbed my hand and held it tight.
He pressed the shell to his lips a third time. Based on the first two notes, we expected this one to last maybe fifteen or twenty seconds, but we stood for what seemed like an eternity as the sacred tone pierced the air and reverberated through the swaying palms.
As the last of the note finally drifted away on the breeze, we were all speechless, except Mary, who summed it up for all of us when I heard her mutter under her breath, “Damn!”
; Reverend Winslow continued, “In Hawaii, the seasons of the year are not as distinct as yours in Missouri. Having myself come to this beautiful place from the Midwest, I know, as you do, the promise that each season holds.
“In the spring, life bursts forth anew; flowers bloom, trees awaken from their sleep, and the seeds of new life are planted in all living things. It is a time of hope, a time to build dreams for the new year.
“Then come the long, warm days of summer, when those seeds, so lovingly planted, grow and mature and bear fruit. It is a time to cultivate and nurture, a time to strengthen.
“Soon come the glorious days of autumn, when we harvest the bounty we have nurtured and marvel at the wonders of nature as greens turn to crimson and gold. It is a time of thanksgiving and reflection for the blessings of life, a time to store away that which we have harvested for the long cold days of winter.
“And finally, when the winter winds of life blow and living things become still, if we have planted, nurtured, and harvested wisely, we will be sustained until life begins its cycle anew.
“For those uniting in matrimony, it is not unlike the seasons of the year.
“Those uniting in the springtime of their youth will know the joy of bringing forth new life and dreaming dreams of the seasons to come.
“They along with those who unite in the warm summer of their lives will know the joy of cultivating and nurturing that which will bring warmth and security and comfort for the seasons that lay ahead.
“Then there are those like you, Walt and Maggie, who come to be united in the autumn of your lives. While for you the season has passed to plant the seeds that will bring forth new life, your joining together today will give birth to a new entity that did not previously exist, an entity that must be nurtured and cultivated if it is to grow and prosper, an entity in which you may dream your dreams for the future and in which you may find your comfort in the winter years of your life.
“Autumn, again, is a time for thanksgiving and reflection, a time to enjoy the bounty of your life. So take the time to reflect on your past and be thankful for the circumstances of life that have brought you together. Embrace one another, love one another, and marvel at the crimson and gold of your autumn years together.”
I heard a sniffle and looked at Willie just in time to see him wipe a tear from his cheek.
“Walt, please take Maggie’s hand and repeat after me: I, Walter, take thee, Margaret, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, keeping myself from all others until death to us both shall part.”
It’s not my nature to get overly emotional, but it took all my inner resolve to utter those precious words without blubbering like an idiot.
As Maggie looked into my eyes and affirmed her vows to me, I felt like the luckiest man in the world.
I guess that’s the way it’s supposed to be.
Reverend Winslow continued, “Do you have your rings?”
I nodded at Willie, and he plunged his hand deep into his pocket. As his hand came out, the diamond setting caught in the fabric and flipped into the air.
It was like one of those movie scenes when everything seems to move in slow motion. We all gasped as the ring reached the apex of its arc and fell onto the narrow bridge over the lagoon.
It rolled, of course, as round things do, right to the edge of the footbridge. Its momentum was sufficient to carry it over the edge, but a small brown gecko that had chosen that moment to bask in the warm sun blocked its path into a watery grave.
I kneeled down to retrieve the ring, and I will swear to this day that the gecko winked at me as he sped away.
Once order had been restored, the reverend continued, “You have come to our beautiful islands to seal your marriage vows. In the past few days and the days to come, as you experience our soft sand beaches, our gentle trade winds fragrant with flowers and salt sea mist, and the warmth of our tropical sun, you are storing away precious memories that are yours to keep forever. Memories that in future days you may reflect upon, draw strength from, and give you joy.
“You have come to this beautiful sanctuary to affirm the marriage vows you have just made, with the exchange of rings.
“The wedding ring is a symbol of everlasting love, a circle, without beginning, without end. And the exchange of these rings is a pledge one to the other of the total commitment you have made and an outward sign to the world of your fidelity to each other.
“Walt, please take Maggie’s hand and place the token of your love on her finger and repeat after me:
With this ring, I pledge my everlasting love and seal the covenant I have made to you.”
Maggie then turned to Mary, who promptly dug into the cleavage of her ample bosom and produced the ring that she held in a death grip. She wasn’t about to tempt fate a second time.
After Maggie had sealed her covenant with my ring, Reverend Winslow concluded the ceremony. “May your love for each other be as the rings you have given: pure, untarnished, and without end. You may seal your pledge with a kiss.”
As I took Maggie into my arms and our lips met, the words from The Hawaiian Wedding Song filled the air:
This is the moment
I’ve waited for
I can feel my heart singing.
My heart was indeed singing. I was standing with the love of my life by my side in the very spot that fifty years ago Elvis had stood and sung those very words.
It was a moment that was indelibly pressed between the pages of my mind and one that in years to come would bring me untold joy and happiness.
Uncle Larry and his family sang and played, and Mary snapped dozens of photos while we shared little pieces of wedding cake. Arbor Mist Tropical Fruit had replaced the traditional champagne, at my request, of course. It goes well with everything.
Too soon it had to end.
I took Maggie in my arms, and we danced our wedding dance to the beautiful Can’t Help Falling in Love.
At last Maggie and I were one.
CHAPTER 14
Due to my brief incarceration, our wedding day was to be our last on the island of Kauai. In fact, we had to arrange for a late checkout to accommodate the ceremony. Sammy rushed us to the airport just in time to catch our island hop to Maui.
It wasn’t exactly how we had planned our honeymoon, and something in the back of my mind whispered that this was probably just the harbinger of things to come in our new life together. We could plan until the cows come home, but there were forces out there making plans for us as well.
Their plans, it would seem, trumped ours.
As the plane descended into the Kahului airport, it was quite apparent why it was called the Valley Isle.
On the north side of the island were the West Maui
Mountains, and on the south, the massive bulk of the dormant volcano Haleakala rose ten thousand feet. The two were connected by a valley that stretched from sea to sea.
Although the sun was shining brightly, the summit of the majestic volcano was shrouded in misty clouds, and I was suddenly overcome with the eerie feeling that our lives were somehow inextricably bound to the mysterious past of this mountain that had once been the home of Pele, the Goddess of Fire.
As we descended the steps to the baggage claim area, we were met by a smiling Hawaiian man who stepped forward with the traditional plumeria leis. “Aloha, my name is Liho, and I’m—”
“Let me guess,” I interrupted, “you’re a cousin to
Buddy Kalakoa.”
“How’d you guess that?” he said with a grin. “Let’s get your bags and get you to your hotel.”
During the drive from the airport through the city of Kahului, it was obvious that this was the commercial center of the island. We passed all of the mainland big box stores like Costco and Walmart, and we were relieved to see that the islanders had not been deprived of the culinary delights offered by the likes of Krispy Kreme and Mickey D’s.
The sp
rawl of the city ended abruptly, and the one highway to the west side of the island was soon surrounded by fields of sugarcane and pineapple.
It took a mere twenty minutes to drive from the east to the west side of the island, and after passing by the Maui Ocean Center and a shopping area located on Maalaea Bay, we pulled off the road and parked at what Liho called “McGregor Point.”
The scene that awaited us was the epitome of what one would expect the definition of a tropical paradise to be.
The small pinnacle of land that was the point jutted out into the blue waters of the bay. On the left, all of south Maui was visible against the backdrop of Mt. Haleakala. The ridges of the Molokini cinder cone and the island of Kahoolawe lay straight ahead, and the island of Lanai loomed across the western sea.
We all stood in awe, basking in the warm sun as the trade winds lifted the salt sea mist from the waves that crashed on the rocky shore.
Mary, as always, summed up what we were all feeling. “Damn! I could get used to this!”
The ride along the west side of the island was beautiful. The highway ran parallel to the ocean shore, and at some locations it was so close that the breaking waves left their salty residue on the pavement.
We passed through the old whaling village of Lahaina to the resort area known as Kaanapali.
The mile-long stretch of Kaanapali Beach is lined with resorts, luxury condominiums, shopping centers, and restaurants and has become a permanent fixture in the list of the top ten beaches in the world. Liho explained that while our hotel, the Kaanapali Beach Hotel, was one of the original resorts in the area, it differed from the glitz and glamour of some of the newer resorts. It is billed as “Hawaii’s Most Hawaiian Hotel.”
I could tell the difference the minute we stepped into the lobby. I felt as if I had stepped into a time machine that had taken us back thirty years to a simpler and more peaceful time.
Photos of Hawaiian kings, queens, and princesses adorned the walls. Feathered kahilis and wooden drums set among arrangements of tropical flowers accented the elegant but understated décor.
[Lady Justice 03] - Lady Justice Gets Lei'd Page 13