Mau Loa: Forever

“Next law: Everyone will love Jesus.” As said by Queen Malama in the movie Hawaii, this quote reflects how a culture was changed through religion. Culture is defined as the behaviors and beliefs found in a particular ethnic group. Each person in this ethnic group learns, spreads, and thrives under these beliefs. Without them, ethnic groups throughout history would not have flourished and been passed on to later generations. However, because of characteristics found in human nature, many powerful cultures have strongly influenced weaker ones, almost to the point of total domination. When it comes to religion, language, and disease, it is almost impossible for the weaker cultures to resist the change.

Before a stronger culture can impact a weaker one fully, they need to influence their language first. Language is the most important connection between people, and if they speak different ones, then it becomes difficult for them to communicate and fully impact the weaker culture. In Hawaii, Reverend Hale and the other missionaries spoke English, while the natives spoke their native Hawaiian tongue. Though they did have an interpreter, it became hard for them to spread their beliefs to the natives. So, they forced the natives to learn English in order to effectively spread their culture. Once it became the official language and more English speaking people began moving to the islands, then the native tongue slowly diminished. This is reflective of many other same occurrences. Languages are lost when others reign over it, which ultimately causes the culture to be lost because language is the basis of any culture.

Religion has been a very powerful component in culture for almost all of human existence. Because each culture developed in various places in the world, they had different views on religion. This can cause much conflict between them. Some religions believe that they are the only right one, therefore they must make sure everyone else follows it. This is reflected well in Hawaii. Reverend Hale believes that he needs to spread the word of God to the “heathen” natives in Hawaii in order to save them. So, he travels there on a mission from God, intent on teaching them the religion and ultimately making it their formal one. Some people may teach their religion in a peaceful and accepting way. However, in the cases of many of these incidents, the interactions are not as positive. Reverend Hale was extremely intolerant of their religion, saying that the one he preached was the only right one and that they, again, were “heathens” for following theirs. With his intimidating and powerful words that they hardly understood, the natives grew weary of trying to fight his preaching. This happens very often when a stronger culture tries to convert a weaker culture’s religion. The weaker culture is confused and intimidated by the foreigners, becoming fearful of them and ultimately folding under their will. So, the stronger culture has the upper hand after they influence the religion, one of the most important aspects to a group’s culture.

Lastly, and possibly the strongest and most fullproof way to completely influence a weaker culture, is through disease. In Hawaii, the foreign white men continue to travel to the island, bringing about many diseases. The main disease, however, was the measles. Because of the lack of medicine on the island, many of the natives became sick and died. This weakened them even more than anything else the white men brought over. This is true of many cultures that have been destroyed by others. When a culture is weak, they lack the necessary medicines and knowledge to cure these terrible and destructive diseases. So, the stronger culture, knowingly or unknowingly, comes in and spreads the diseases that they may be immune to, but the weaker culture is not because they have never been exposed to it before.

A Home Between the Walls, September 19th 2008

When I was first born, my family and I lived in a house in Colorado Springs. My two brothers were able to grow up in that house. However, I do not have any memories from living in that house for two years. When I look at its pictures, I get a familiar feeling, but I can’t recognized it or remember ever living there. After I turned two, my family decided to move into a larger house so my parents could have more room to raise children. So, they chose to build a house in Crystal Hills in Manitou Springs, Colorado.

This is an early memory that I have. I remember watching the progress as it was being built by my father. Fifteen years ago, there weren’t as many houses in Crystal Hills as there are now. Many lots next to ours were empty, while they are full now with beautiful homes. Though I didn’t know at the time that this place was going to be our new home, I was still very excited. During the whole construction process, we stayed in a smaller house that my parents rented, though I can’t remember it at all. Once the house started to be built, we were able to visit it more and more.

My most vivid dream occurred one day when the entire family went over to the construction site to help. My dad used to drive this very old, ugly, and hardly durable pickup truck. I was sitting in the front seat, and we were driving through Crystal Hills. We finally reached the lot where the house was being built. The lawn was still all dirt and they were still framing the house. Rather than parking on the street, my dad drove onto the lawn, and it was a bumpy ride. This surprised me, so I started to cry. After I calmed down for a little bit, my dad let me play around in the dirt while he talked to his contractors. At this time I still had no idea that this would be our new house. I was also confused as to why there was no grass and only dirt, but I don’t think I was too upset. While I was playing, my mother was inside figuring out some interior decorating ideas, and I believe my brothers were sitting in the truck listening to the radio.

My dad then took me inside the “house,” which was only the framing. Still, it was really cool to walk through these fake doors and look at all the huge rooms. I could see where our fireplace would be, and most exciting, where the kitchen would be. This house was like a mansion to me, and I couldn’t wait for it to be finished so that we could move into it. Then, my dad showed me where my room would be. It was larger than what I even dreamed up. I walked around, able to do laps it was so large. He then took me to this framed box underneath a window. He told me that it would be my own toy box, without having to share with my brothers. My happiness and innocence in life seemed to emanate at that moment. I got this feeling inside me that this would be my one special place where I could play and have a fun time. Then I remember him telling me that it was going to be painted pink and that I would have teddy bear wallpaper. This made me happy because my nickname since birth was Claire Bear.

What I also remember really well about this experience is how simple and wonderful it was. This new and large house became a new adventure for me to journey with my brothers. That day, we played hide-and-go-seek in the basement, hiding behind toolboxes and large wood pieces. Though we didn’t know it at the time, that basement would become a very good place to play pretend. Everything seemed so perfect that day. I spent my time in my new room, imagining all the amazing things I could do with it. It’s hard to say how long we spent there that day, but it seemed like it was forever and that it would never end.

The one thing that is fuzzy in my mind is my first few years living at that house. I think it’s because I was so overwhelmed with many really good memories. However, the first day I was actually able to see what our new house would look like has stayed with me even to this day. I can still smell the sawdust from the workers in the basement. The dirt that I played with was just right: it wasn’t too wet to get muddy, but it was damp enough to create things with it. Then, when my brothers and I played hide-and-go-seek, I almost remember hiding in the closet in my room, feeling safe and knowing that my brothers would never be able to find me in there. This memory is not just my first memory; it is also a very important one in my life. When my family moved into that house, we became closer. My brothers and I had more space to explore, and my parents had more space to raise us in. I’m happy that my first memory is of the first day I saw the new house; hopefully, it will stay with me forever.

You Can Take It With You, September 5 2008

"The stage is not merely the meeting place of all the arts, but is also the return of art to life." As I read this quote by Oscar Wilde, my mind flashes to a place where I am at home in my own skin. I was introduced to this place at a time when I was desperate for a comfort zone, and it gave me solitude and serenity. The District Auditorium is the one special place that has that familiar smell, feeling, and even more important, memories. My favorite memories from high school happened in that very auditorium, and I know that they will always stay with me, even when I do move on to a new life somewhere else.

As far back as I can recall, I have always been involved in that theater my entire life. When I started school at Manitou Springs Elementary, we would perform even the smallest plays. Even then, I always felt safe, comfortable, and at home. Other times I was in the auditorium included when my older brothers were in play productions, choir productions, or even their 8th grade promotion. No matter what reason I was there for, I always enjoyed myself far more than I had before. I remember playing hide-and-seek with my friends in the seats or performing for Arts Academy, something I looked forward to every summer during elementary school. However, after I entered middle school, I didn’t spend as much time in there as I had wanted to.

Middle school was an awkward time, and I always had trouble finding a niche that would satisfy me. Because I went to school in a different building, I found it harder to visit the auditorium as often. The few times I did were to see my brother Ryan act in the high school plays. I admired these characters on the stage, but I never thought I would get the chance to act there. This thinking resulted from the fact that I never was able to participate in the middle school plays as much as I would have liked. It wasn’t until high school that my love for this place increased even more.

As nervous as I was for high school, I needed to find one thing that I was somewhat familiar with that I knew I would enjoy. So, I tried out for the fall play, and ever since, I have been in almost every production since then. My friends and I made so many amazing memories in that place, from set buildings, line readings, final productions, to even the costume room cleanouts. The auditorium became a home for so many, and we all have left our passion in there. One day, when we were painting the stage black, Sophie, Nora, and I decided to find a random place backstage where we could leave our handprints with the paint we were using. After deciding to put them under the wooden staircase in the secluded and dark back corner, we each placed our hands next to each other on the floor and left our own history that we will one day look back at and recall the amazing times we shared, all seen through our black handprints. Another memory so vivid in my mind was the time when my friends and myself were mopping the stage after a production, and we thought for some reason that the mop bucket would manage to get down the staircase, but, with our luck and possible stupidity, it tipped over and flowed down the entire concrete staircase. If the visual wasn’t enough, the smell was even worse due to the dirty stage water filled with paint chips, sawdust, and costume remnants. However, we never took the initiative to clean it up. Instead, we spent our time admiring rose buds that were in the water, and I suppose we felt bad for them, so we took them outside in the snow to clean them up. Then, we spent about an hour standing there staring at the rose buds shining in the snow and thinking that that was the most peaceful, beautiful, yet tragic thing we had ever seen. At the time we were serious about it, but I think we will all agree that it was a very amusing situation. The air in the auditorium is unlike any other, for it gives off this warm feeling that leaves one with butterflies in their stomach. The smell can only be described as one that has gone through so much, including sweaty actors, wet paint, rotting wood, and dusty furniture. However, I wouldn’t change that for the world, because it all comes together and gives one the sense that they are seeing and experiencing history just by standing there. I witnessed so many things in that auditorium, like cross dressings, injuries, awful sexual innuendos, and traditions that, depending
on opinion, we hope we will never forget.

As this last school year begins, I can only look back at the good times I had in the auditorium and grin. Not only did I make friends that I know I will keep for a lifetime, but I learned so many lessons, not just about acting, but about life itself. Acting, in my opinion, is interpreting and expressing a writer’s words. After I learned this, my creativity and love for art only increased. In life, I began to understand that anyone can act, as long as they have a love and passion for it. I believe that the stage allowed me to crawl from my shell, and I am able to open up more to people now, even if I don’t know them too well. Everyone was able to be themselves because we all had a love for acting, art, and expressing ourselves in general. If it wasn’t for this place, I have no idea what person I would be today, but I do know that the auditorium has affected me in a positive way, more than anything else has. I look forward to spending even more time there now that the plays are starting again, and I know the feeling is mutual with everyone. When I get on that stage again, standing under those mesmerizing, warming, and comforting lights and feeling the buzz and energy from the excited audience, I will be home again. This refuge has helped me to discover how I want to live my life, and I will always take that with me.

Sometimes It Snows in April, August 29, 2008

The song "Sometimes It Snows in April," by Prince, expresses the idea that even during really beautiful times, a blanket can cover the warmth and love and shatter everything. What makes this song so special to me is that it was my cousin's favorite song. This was the first song to play during Trent's funeral, and it has stuck with me ever since. As I sat next to my brothers, watching everyone express a numb stare towards the procession, I entered a different world. This world was the one I lived in before the tragedy, before Trent lost his faith in it and love for it. Thoughts about the past, the present, and even more frightening, the future, kept me preoccupied during my life's most heart wrenching, draining, and scary experience.

When were were growing up, Trent was our family's pied piper. The cousins looked up to him, both as a role model and his tall and thin structure. As far back as I can remember, he was always the one to initiate the fun at any family gathering, whether it be making videos with Jurassic Park figurines, complete with intense Mortal Kombat music, or dancing to numerous songs by Prince. Otherwise, he would be singing into a remote control and gulping down a slurpee. Though he was charming and handsome, his hair always became inspiration for jokes, and every Christmas, someone would buy him a comb and hope that he would use it for once. My oldest brother was the closest to him, and they would do everything together, even though they were four years apart in age. However, after Trent went off to college, we seldom saw him. A few years later, after he had graduated and gotten a steady job, he visited us and we all went out for dinner. As if nothing had changed, Trent was still as goofy as ever. His hair was even the same, and we, with much enthusiasm, brought up the comb joke. The new millennium had just occurred, so we spent hours talking about how we thought by then there would be robots and hovercrafts. This was the last time I saw or even heard from Trent until around 2006.

Trent came to visit the family again, but for some reason my immediate family was unable to see him, and I know it disappointed him. I still wish every day that I had gone to see him, and it gets harder and the regret gets worse every day. A year later, on August seventeenth, Trent committed suicide. When I heard my dad on the phone with my aunt, whose words were just audible beneath the tears, my life changed more than I ever expected it to in a situation like that. I felt like my heart was torn out and my soul was taken, all by one person's actions. I couldn't look anybody in the eyes after his death because I saw him in everyone. I knew he was all around me, but back then I thought it made accepting his death even harder. During his wake, Prince songs played on the radio all day, and it was the most intense feeling I have ever felt. The hardest part for me, however, was watching my oldest brother stare at Trent's casket. We never expected this to happen in our family, let alone to Trent. With a death like this, we wanted to place blame on something, but we began to blame ourselves, which wasn't very healthy. I never knew when this suffering was going to end, if it was ever going to end.

With death, we find ourselves going through such excruciating pain, but we hope that soon, with time, the pain will fade. With Trent, the pain never faded. I started to blame him, becoming angry at him for ending his own life. Knowing he had that much control, not just over his death, but everyone's pain as well, almost destroyed me. I felt like Trent's weakness had somehow found me too, and that scared me. Then I realized something. Though Trent was an amazing person, I am not the same as him. I have the strength that he sadly was never able to find. I looked at all my friends and family and realized that they are where my strength lies. With their support and guidance, I am able to stray away from the path that Trent decided to take. Every day, I think about how he must not have had the incredible support that I do, and it makes me sick knowing how alone he must have felt. I have learned so many things about life from him more than anyone has ever been able to teach me. In life, he taught me to always be myself and never be afraid to show my true side to people, no matter what they think. He showed me an incredible enthusiasm for life and love, though he stopped believing in it himself. In death, he taught me that everyone has weaknesses and struggles, no matter how perfect they are. My life seemed almost inconsequential until his death. I had never experienced great pain and I never struggled with myself before. Then, I learned that life is short, precious, but also fragile. I know now that he never did it to hurt his family, just to end the struggles that he was afraid to face. Though I will never be the same and the pain will never go away, I have changed my perspective on life and I intend to live it with love and happiness. The hatred, pain, and struggles will come, but, as cliche as this is, there is always a light at the tunnel's end. My hope is still strong, and I intend to keep dancing and singing my way through life, like Trent would have done.