Posted on: Sunday, December 12, 2004

FAMILY MATTERS
Boys, like men, need some time with buddies

By Ka'ohua Lucas

We jaunted along in our pick-up headed for home. My youngest was crammed into the jump seat of the truck while backpacks were wedged up against his legs. My eldest looked like an NFL linebacker stuffed into a Mini Cooper.

They were not happy campers.

In an effort to distract their focus from the cramped quarters, I struck up a conversation about football.

My 14-year-old chatted about practice and the flawless block he made that day. He critiqued the different plays and the game strategies they would use to crush their opponents this weekend. As he described the perfect catch of the day, I decided to broach a subject that had festered in me for some time.

"Why does it take so long for you to get out of the locker room?" I asked.

"Mom, don't you want me to shower before I get into the truck?" he said, responding to my question with a question.

My answer was yes, but I still couldn't figure out why it took him more than an hour to get cleaned up.

His answer was vague.

As we pulled into the driveway, our dog bounded over, licking my older son's feet. The 14-year-old hopped out of the truck and headed for the house.

As I struggled to slide out from behind the steering wheel, my youngest son tapped me on the shoulder.

"What's up?" I asked.

He looked around to be certain his brother wasn't within earshot.

He placed a cupped hand to his mouth and whispered, "Mom, you know he's lying."

"Lying about what?" I asked, realizing that he was about to reveal vital information.

My youngest looked over his shoulder.

"You know what he does in the locker room?" he hissed.

I shook my head.

"He takes off his practice uniform, puts on his towel, talks to his friends, opens his locker, stares at the inside of it, then sits down on the bench and talks to his friends again," he said, in an exasperated tone. "He's a liar, Mom."

"I'm not so sure I would call him a liar," I said. "Sounds to me like he gets sidetracked. Plus we have to remember your brother is very social. He needs some time to debrief with the guys."

My youngest looked at me glumly.

I remembered that, according to Mary Kawena Pukui in "Nana I Ke Kumu," men in early Hawai'i had their own exclusive place to congregate.

"Every man had his Men Only club-restaurant-chapel-lodge hall-locker room, and general refuge from the ladies," writes Pukui. "This was (called) the hale mua."

My youngest brightened when he heard this.

"So you have no reason to get pihoihoi (out of sorts) when my brother takes a long time after practice," he said.

"You're right," I confessed. "I have to realize that he is just spending some time with his buddies in his hale mua."

Reach Ka'ohua Lucas at Family Matters, 'Ohana page, The Advertiser, P.O. Box 3110, Honolulu, HI 96802; fax 525-8055; or at ohana@honoluluadvertiser.com.