FAMILY MATTERS
First a houseguest, but truly a part of family
By Ka'ohua Lucas
When my friend and neighbor asked if we could "watch over" her 13-year-old son for a week, we had no qualms.
She was to take a much-deserved trip to the Mainland, part business, part play.
Her son, A.J., has always been pretty independent, one of those kids who's extremely bright and is given a lot of freedom.
However, we agreed it would be best for him to sleep at our house. When his mom told him that he would be staying with us, he let out a groan. His dreams of burning the midnight oil over the Internet, channel-surfing and playing video games vanished.
Now he would be held prisoner for one week under the vigilant eye of Warden Ka'ohua and her faithful prison guard.
Every evening, A.J. was sent to bed — as our boys were — at 9 p.m.
"It's so early," he would complain.
"You vil listen to Frau Lucas," my husband commanded in his best German accent. "Or I vil punish you severely for zat outburst."
A.J. would slink into his room without a retort.
In early Hawai'i, there was a famous 'olelo no'eau, a wise saying: Ho'okahi no la o ka malihini. A stranger only for a day.
Meaning: After the first day as a guest, one must help with the work.
Since we moved into our home three years ago, we have always considered A.J. a part of our family.
Whenever A.J. has come to visit, my husband has had his "other son" help clean out the garage. If the boys want to play football in the lower yard, A.J. is asked to grab a shovel and help remove the dog doo-doo. He has been always (OK, almost always) willing to pitch in.
So it was no surprise to A.J. when he was asked to help out with the family chores.
He cleared the dinner dishes, cleaned up the boys' room and helped keep the house in order.
"Can I ride the bus home from school?" he asked me one evening.
"No problem," I said. "But remember: You are part of this family, which means you must leave me a message on the voice mail that you made it home safely."
For the week that A.J. was with us, he became part of our 'ohana. In everything we did, he was an expected participant.
That included making wisecracks.
"Hi, Auntie Ka'ohua, I made it home safely," was one of his messages. "You don't have to worry. I'm not bound and gagged with duct tape in the trunk of someone's car. See you when you get home."
Ka'ohua Lucas has an 18-year-old daughter and two sons, 12 and 8. She hold a master's degree in education curriculum and instruction, and works as an educational consultant on Hawaiian curriculum. Write to her at: Family Matters, Island Life, The Honolulu Advertiser, P.O. Box 3110, Honolulu, HI 96802; e-mail ohana@honoluluadvertiser.com or fax 535-8170.
