Marion Haines, a good camper, wise in books and plants, was rooted in a land where nature and the love of life imbued her every action.
She was born and raised in Hawaii, and that alone is a most wonderous and savory thought. One could roll around in that thought for a long time. barefoot to school. meeting Pele, the goddess of war and volcanos, on a dark , dark night as a teenager, having Duke Kahanamoku ask her by name to go out for a surf on his board as a regular event. Surrounded by the amazing aloha spirit which I can only say is as loving as it gets for our species.
She came of age when on December 7th, 1941 at the age of 16 Pearl Harbor was bombed. It was just over the ridge from her home. She and her friends had been sliding on tea leaves the evening before, up on Tantalus Drive behind Honolulu. Imagine a really steep slope, riddled with erosion paths like a slalom course, the mud as slippery as it gets. I mean steep. At night! Darn fool kids. Afterwards they all piled into the Buick, still covered in mud and went down to Waikiki to rinse off in the moonlight. Home to bed late. Next morning. . . chaos, bombs bursting just over the hill, smoke billowing, planes roaring by, followed by fear of imminent invasion, horror stories about war, a mad scramble to mobilize all resources, and getting the women and children to safety.
So . . . off she goes to the mainland, a darn fool kid no more, to attend Stanford. She is there for summer school, ahead of her classes arrival that
fall. The early cute bird from Hawaii gets a lot of dates. Amazing what you learn from her old friends.
Of these years I know little. But many of those here today are a testament to her friendship from those trying and wonderful times. Depression years and world wars are beyond my comprehension. I salute the greatest generation. Thank you for being part of my Mother’s life. I remember all those parties you attended at the Mendocino house.
She went on to marry a gem of a doctor, raise 4 kids, embrace the surfing life of weekends at San Onofre, co-author the San O Cookbook, finishing her education at UCLA, volunteering at hospitals, working
on her garden, becoming a docent at Huntington Gardens, as well as the Library. She was an avid reader, collecting old first editions of all her favorite authors, she embraced the arts, and life with gusto.
She was also a good skier, hiker, and an good golfer. And Oh My God she could cook. Thank you lord, thank you mom, thank you Julia Child.
We, as kids, sitting in the VW bus, would cheer and pump fists, as she marched into a store to chew out the proprietor in the rare situation where she felt ripped off, or cheated. She had real grit. We all knew it from early on.
Just recently, when I broke down a bit at her bedside, she caught me and asked what was wrong. She is barely hanging on herself at this point. I was depressed, and in a lonely moment, but I said it was just the strain of the economy that had caught up to me. She paused for a few moments and said, put it in low gear. And there was that big smile.
Just go. Those words combine well with put it in low gear. On numerous key moments in our lives she would say that there never is a GOOD time to go on a vacation or a trip, just go. Go when you get the chance. Grab it. Appropriately, just after her passing, my family went down the Colorado for a long planned, 8 day river trip of a lifetime, that we really couldn’t afford, time or money wise, and of course Marion was with us. No words can describe that trip. You have to just go.
She will be sorely missed. But man o man are we glad she is back with her husband, our dad, and all her old friends and relatives. Aloha. See you in the water, or down in the canyon, now and then.
The 1932 photo is of Marion Haines, age 7, with her 5’10” finless koa surfboard which she also skimboarded on at Kailua Beach.
