By Lee Cataluna
Advertiser Columnist

Leah Johnson has a fat photo album completely filled with pictures of "her kids" — all 47 of them. There are pictures from their camping trips, their visits to the water park, ice cream and karaoke and pizza parties with all of the kids crowded into her tiny Waikiki studio apartment.

"I think I look at these pictures every day," she says.

When Leah, who is 24 now, first moved into the Cleghorn Street walk-up, she cast a wary eye at her neighbor, Pearl Featheran, 39. Pearl always had kids hanging out at her place. Pearl was always feeding them.

"She thought I was nuts," says Pearl.

"I'm all, 'They're not coming in MY house,' " Leah says. "And pretty soon it was, 'OK, you can come in and play Nintendo. But just two kids.' And two turns into four. Four turns into eight. Eight turns into all."

Pearl, who has lived in the area for more than 10 years, never thought twice about looking after the kids in her neighborhood.

"That's how it was when we were growing up in Kapahulu. That's old Hawai'i. Everybody took care of everybody."

Cleghorn Street is in the part of Waikiki that doesn't make the travel posters. The narrow lane runs parallel between Kuhio and Ala Wai. It's a mishmash of apartment buildings, old cars and chainlink fences. The drug problems used to be really bad, both women say, but some of the buildings have been cleaned up recently.

Still, the kids who live in the area often have complicated lives. One family lives nine to a studio because that's all they can afford right now.

"Sometimes, both parents are working and the kids are essentially raising themselves," Pearl says. "Or there's a language barrier in immigrant families.

"Sometimes kids get homeless because their parents make bad choices. They end up living on the beach. They can't study, can't sleep. They stop going to school. To me, I think, 'Hey, sleep here. I'll drive you to school. I'll feed you.'

"I just see that cycle repeating endlessly unless someone does something to change things."

One time, a woman asked Pearl if she would baby-sit her daughter. She gave Pearl $20 and disappeared for three weeks. Pearl ended up keeping the girl for six months. "She's at another foster home now," Pearl says. "But I miss her. I miss her every day."

For Leah, all of this came as a surprise. She moved to Hawai'i from New Mexico two years ago. "I came on vacation, fell in love with Hawai'i and moved here. I'm one of the millions of stories you hear like that."

Leah has pictures in her album of Christmas morning with the kids. She and Pearl put together 25 stockings and presents from the 99-cent store. The kids decorated Pearl's apartment door like a big present.

There are no pictures of Leah and Pearl together. One of them is always behind the camera.

"My family isn't here, so these kids are my family," says Leah. "And it was the best Christmas morning."

The kids are there every day. Leah helps them with algebra and reads them books like "Frog and Toad." Pearl cooks breakfast. They plan "community service" projects on the weekends, where they go out to a beach, pick up rubbish, have lunch and go surf. Leah washes their surf shorts. Pearl goes to their schools to talk with their teachers.

The kids in the pictures, and the kids sitting in Leah's apartment playing her vintage Nintendo, look completely comfortable. John, a fifth-grader, looks through the photo album and makes comments about each picture he's in. He grabs a writing tablet and composes an essay he asks Leah to read out loud. It's about Leah and Pearl and all the fun they've had, and includes a line about knowing that there is a God because all his needs are met. Leah helps John correct a couple of spelling errors.

Leah and Pearl insist they aren't the only ones. Other people in the neighborhood look out for the kids. The folks who work at the snack bars at the beach give them free food. The surfboard rental company lends them boards for free. The water park management has been very kind. Gordon Biersch, where Leah works as a waitress, and the Moana Surfrider, where Pearl works as a waitress, have treated the kids to meals.

Sometimes, when Pearl is working her shift on the veranda of the Surfrider, some of the kids will come by to see her. Maybe they're hungry or bored. Maybe they have a problem they need to talk to her about. They all show up.

"People see them coming and they go, 'Who are all these kids?' And I say, 'They're my kids. They belong to me.'"

Lee Cataluna's column runs Tuesdays, Fridays and Sundays. Reach her at 535-8172 or lcataluna@honoluluadvertiser.com.