12-08-2014, 11:01 AM
I moved from Chicago and my condo. Immediately to the East was the fire department that roared out with horns and sirens after any fender bender. Immediately beyond that a major commuter railroad into Chicago and out to Naperville.
Immediately to the West was Lake Street. Busy all night with a manhole cover that went generated a ka ching then a rapid following ka chunk.
Immediately behind a second railway served coal trains and these were within 100 yards of my bedroom window. Some nights the locomotives would idle and wait hours and my windows would rattle.
Above the flight path to O'hare airport.
Missing from above were stars.
Inside my condo there was one very expensive brand new Steinway that was best kept at constant humidity and a narrow temperature range.
That piano prevented me from opening my big panoramic views of railways on all but a few days a year. So Winter heating and Summer air conditioning regulated those.
Now that life, that life, was actually on the top floor of a condominium with views in three directions in River Forest. A high-end neighborhood with Frank Lloyd Wright homes and tree lined streets. A life with access to theater, concerts, clubs, and luxury gyms.
Moving to Kalapana represented an incredible change. A piano sold, and an even temperature meant I could have windows wide open on all but a few Kona wind days. Nights were black as ink and more quiet than an orchestra hall.
I learned the ultimate luxury in life is not a 5 star hotel, New York, or Paris.
Ultimate luxury is the absence of light, air, and noise pollution, especially coupled with quite sounds of the breeze and distant surf.
Luxury is not being able to afford a piano costing more than most houses, Brazilian flooring, and granite countertops with under-mounted sinks.
Instead it is the quiet night, the sound of my distant Hawaiian neighbor greeting the day with chanting, a slatted bamboo floor, and a well shared with a cow.
It was incredulous to me that I heard soon after arriving in Puna some were headed out because lower Puna had already become too polluted by man.
When I walked the streets of Royal Gardens for the last time, I more fully realized how much of the original atmosphere of lower Puna was lost. I couldn't hear hardly anything. There wasn't any light pollution. There were no street signs every 20 yards.
These people left BEFORE the cocqui invasion.
Well, I have been now to places like what lower Puna used to be like 25 years ago.
Last night the distant sound was of someone playing a guitar and singing. The people here consider themselves poor. To me, they are the few last truly rich left.
Immediately to the West was Lake Street. Busy all night with a manhole cover that went generated a ka ching then a rapid following ka chunk.
Immediately behind a second railway served coal trains and these were within 100 yards of my bedroom window. Some nights the locomotives would idle and wait hours and my windows would rattle.
Above the flight path to O'hare airport.
Missing from above were stars.
Inside my condo there was one very expensive brand new Steinway that was best kept at constant humidity and a narrow temperature range.
That piano prevented me from opening my big panoramic views of railways on all but a few days a year. So Winter heating and Summer air conditioning regulated those.
Now that life, that life, was actually on the top floor of a condominium with views in three directions in River Forest. A high-end neighborhood with Frank Lloyd Wright homes and tree lined streets. A life with access to theater, concerts, clubs, and luxury gyms.
Moving to Kalapana represented an incredible change. A piano sold, and an even temperature meant I could have windows wide open on all but a few Kona wind days. Nights were black as ink and more quiet than an orchestra hall.
I learned the ultimate luxury in life is not a 5 star hotel, New York, or Paris.
Ultimate luxury is the absence of light, air, and noise pollution, especially coupled with quite sounds of the breeze and distant surf.
Luxury is not being able to afford a piano costing more than most houses, Brazilian flooring, and granite countertops with under-mounted sinks.
Instead it is the quiet night, the sound of my distant Hawaiian neighbor greeting the day with chanting, a slatted bamboo floor, and a well shared with a cow.
It was incredulous to me that I heard soon after arriving in Puna some were headed out because lower Puna had already become too polluted by man.
When I walked the streets of Royal Gardens for the last time, I more fully realized how much of the original atmosphere of lower Puna was lost. I couldn't hear hardly anything. There wasn't any light pollution. There were no street signs every 20 yards.
These people left BEFORE the cocqui invasion.
Well, I have been now to places like what lower Puna used to be like 25 years ago.
Last night the distant sound was of someone playing a guitar and singing. The people here consider themselves poor. To me, they are the few last truly rich left.
Former Puna Beach Resident
Now sailing in SE Asia
HOT BuOYS Sailing
Now sailing in SE Asia
HOT BuOYS Sailing