Now that Black Friday is but a distant memory … Found this poem printed in the December 21, 1973 Ka Punahou edition of Ka Wai Ola, Punahou’s literary magazine.
Tanya’s “Snowflake” reminded me of my first snow experience and how it was shared with classmates. It was in June 1972 while on the trip with the band to Europe. We were in the Swiss Alps and, having ridden a cable car to the top of one slope, found some residual snow from the past winter. Now, this “old snow” wasn’t exactly the fluffy stuff that you get during the snowfalls of winter but, for this Hawaii girl, it was wondrous indeed. At least it packed well and was sufficient enough for the inevitable brief snowball fight that ensued. I can still clearly remember the icy cold of the experience and the fun and laughter that we shared that day.
While my children were Punahou students I was regularly astounded by the number of today’s students who routinely and complacently spend their Winter and Spring breaks on the slopes of various mainland ski resorts. Whistler is a particular favorite and, given the numbers involved, I am sure that classmate sightings are common there.
I find this an amazing difference between the Punahou experience of me and my children. I know that plane tickets have come down greatly since 1974–my parents paid $550 for my freshman college plane ticket and I paid $750 to visit my daughter at the same college 32 years later–and fuels some of this disparity. After all, it took a year of concentrated fund raising and digging deep into my family’s pockets to get me on the plane to Europe!
So much for the brief stroll down memory lane, back to Tanya, who I last recall, puts her skills to work in the Los Angeles area. (LinkedIn has her as a Case Manager at the UCLA Med Group.)
It’s amazing to read what Punahou74 classmates wrote while we were at Punahou. Hope you enjoy this and, of course:
SNOWFLAKE I am a Snowflake I was born on Christmas Day with zillions of my brothers and sisters. We floated down and as we descended. I saw twinkling lights beneath me, illuminating the dark night. As I touched the powdery ground, many children came running to greet us. They scooped handfuls of us and sent us whirring through the air to meet the face of a playmate or the hat of a Scrooge. Their laughter filled the night air as a harp fills the space in a concert hall. We played with the children and peeked in the windows of the homes filled with merriment, and saw and felt the joy of a wintry Christmas. Now I am old, and the new snowflakes are coming. Through the simmering of my now-melted being, you can still see the reflection of a Christmas remembered. Tanya Yamada