As the departure date approached, we saw quite a bit of Uncle Jim.
Although my reader will notice that I rarely have anything good about Uncle Jim, he was familiar with Hawaii, and shared some pleasant thoughts with us.
HOWEVER, as Mom and Uncle Jim were perusing our travel documents, the misinterpreted MSTS (Military Surface Transport Service) as an abbreviation for "Matson", and thought perhaps they might be delivering us to Hawaii on The Matson Steamship Line's luxury liner Lurline. That was not the case.Our adventures in San Francisco can be found elsewhere, as well as the escapades of three young voyagers aboard ship.
I have experienced a large number of ship arrivals, once as a passenger and many times as a casual observer. It is an awe-inspiring event for the passionately patient.
When the time had finally arrived for us to "abandon ship", we went directly to Dad's enforced location behind the safety line. Our hosts for lunch, who met us with Dad were from a small town near our small coastal home town . we rode in their car to Fort Kamehameha among and past the buildings, which showed pockmarks from bullets nine years earlier, and Hickam Air Force Base to their Fort Kam residence near the mouth of the harbor's channel.
After a satisfying luncheon, we were back in the car, headed for our apartment at picturesque Sierra Manor, which no longer occupies the site.
Next day we enrolled in Robert Lewis Stevenson Intermediate School, which still displayed the ancient title, "NORMAL SCHOOL" above the main entrance.
I now realize that Stevenson Intermediate School was another step toward my cherished fortunate life. The principal told my parents that since our residence was in Kaimuki, we were could attend his school. Dependents who lived near Pearl Harbor, where Dad worked, we would have to go to THEIR school. I feel that my perceptions would have been unfortunately different.
The small town Texan's walk through the ancient portal of Stevenson, formally "NORMAL SCHOOL" as a student dispelled all the pre-arrival adolescent fantasies of shy dusky maidens vying for favor of the handsome young newcomer. The kids at Stevenson were very sophisticated urban dwellers in a capital city only slightly smaller than Austin. The "handsome newcomer" had traded his amiable minority status in the caddie pool for minority status in a COMPLETELY new environment!
The "Natives", representing the world, but primarily Asian, tolerated my presence, although many haole malahines did not entitle themselves to the same benefit.
I learned immediately that "shy dusky maidens" did not exist, and girls joked and swore equally with boys.
On my first day of classes, I met Mr. Peterson, my general science teacher who spoke as if he already Knew me, although I had never seen the man before. I learned after I got home to Sierra Manor that I learned that the Petersons owned Sierra Manor, and we saw much of them while we were there. I found that my elation with my minority status was not for everyone. I think my parents may have passively contributed to my freedom of movement in Honolulu. Two of my younger friends at Sierra Manor would often return home bruised and bloody as a result of fistfights at school. I fear that that their fathers' frequent use of terms such as "gooks" and "local yokels" for the permanent citizens was significant.
My good fortune was further enhanced by experiences after the move to Aiea Heights.
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