I just downloaded Ray Conniff's "My Little Grass Shack in Kealakekua, Hawaii" from his ever-reliable Hawaiian Album. No, not illegally, but through iTunes, thank you very much. No, it wasn't for me, though I could use a catchy ukulele song one of these days (you never know). Turns out my mom's teaching Hawaiian dance--again--to little girls who are going to be performing for this one fellow's fiftieth birthday.
It hit me just now that if I learned either the ukulele or Hawaiian slack-key guitar, I would really be able to impress the ladies if ever there was a luau. Really. I would be so cool, me and my faux island-styled Dallas cowboys shirt complete with the missing button, singing these jolly tunes like "Pearly Shells" or playing with a Ventures cover band to the theme to "Hawaii 5-0". If only there were people who made an effort to have an authentic luau. Nowadays, people's idea of an island style party is tiki torches from Wal-Mart, plastic leis made from recycled Wal-Mart shopping bags, while retaining the DJ spinning that blasted, gaudy hip-hop from the mainland. Probably from Wal-Mart. Trust me, I've been there.
Whatever happened to the real island experience? If I had my way, I'd have an island-themed party where all the Pacific Islands formed a conglomeration to renounce the mainland countries, keeping only the most essential items intact. For instance, spam and pineapples. Raw corned beef. Fire-twirlers with grass skirts. Real grass, not the stuff even golf courses are made off. Surfboards and Surf Ninjas. The Beach Boys. The Bee Gees covering the Beach Boys. North Shore and Baywatch. Seafood dishes with real seafood, not some texturized vegetable product. Homemade, and not store-bought. Tribal drums and tribal masks. Ham and pineapple topped "Hawaiian" pizzas. Anything from Guam. The list could go on.
You know what, it just hit me. I can't plan a party if my life depended on it. Not even if the cast of Baywatch Hawaii themselves asked me to plan their inevitable reunion party. Sigh. I guess I'll just wait for the next luau to happen. I may not be the coolest planner, but I'd still be a hit with my uke. I can't wait. I think I'm going to sew that button on my shirt now. Go Cowboys.
It hit me just now that if I learned either the ukulele or Hawaiian slack-key guitar, I would really be able to impress the ladies if ever there was a luau. Really. I would be so cool, me and my faux island-styled Dallas cowboys shirt complete with the missing button, singing these jolly tunes like "Pearly Shells" or playing with a Ventures cover band to the theme to "Hawaii 5-0". If only there were people who made an effort to have an authentic luau. Nowadays, people's idea of an island style party is tiki torches from Wal-Mart, plastic leis made from recycled Wal-Mart shopping bags, while retaining the DJ spinning that blasted, gaudy hip-hop from the mainland. Probably from Wal-Mart. Trust me, I've been there.
Whatever happened to the real island experience? If I had my way, I'd have an island-themed party where all the Pacific Islands formed a conglomeration to renounce the mainland countries, keeping only the most essential items intact. For instance, spam and pineapples. Raw corned beef. Fire-twirlers with grass skirts. Real grass, not the stuff even golf courses are made off. Surfboards and Surf Ninjas. The Beach Boys. The Bee Gees covering the Beach Boys. North Shore and Baywatch. Seafood dishes with real seafood, not some texturized vegetable product. Homemade, and not store-bought. Tribal drums and tribal masks. Ham and pineapple topped "Hawaiian" pizzas. Anything from Guam. The list could go on.
You know what, it just hit me. I can't plan a party if my life depended on it. Not even if the cast of Baywatch Hawaii themselves asked me to plan their inevitable reunion party. Sigh. I guess I'll just wait for the next luau to happen. I may not be the coolest planner, but I'd still be a hit with my uke. I can't wait. I think I'm going to sew that button on my shirt now. Go Cowboys.
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