Beginning on November 1, which is the date of my mother’s first letter from her Hawaii trip 84 years ago, I am serializing day by day, the book, Cecilia King’s Extraordinary Senior Trip, which you can obtain from Amazon in either Kindle or paperback.

I hope you enjoy the upcoming nine-months in Hawaii 1940-41. You can order the entire book from Amazon in either paperback or Kindle format, click here.

Honolulu, Friday, November 29, 1940
Friday night –

Quite a trying day and my canned ideas on the subject are about ready to explode. At 4:30 this afternoon Uncle ed & I were to pick up Miss Nelson & take her to DeRussy for a swim and drink (the family arrangements having taken up the energy, time & arguing powers of the last three days). So we completely, cautiously prepare for an attack on the Moana Hotel to get Miss N. WHO, doesn’t happen to have returned from an auto trip at that exact second – so I am ordered to leave a note saying I will return in 30 minutes – ushered into the car and to DeRussy with the explanation – of a certainty that she is just a ship board acquaintance of no character or quality and doesn’t care a hoot about seeing me & I have already “outdone” myself trying to entertain her royally (the only communication other than today’s plans was her treating Aunt S. & I to a lovely lunch). Then U. Ed calls & leaves word to be forwarded to her that it was nice to have known her and so sorry we didn’t meet this afternoon.

So, I’m still smiling sweetly, saying – “Whatever you think right” and not quite digesting such an abrupt, caustic outlook put upon a person one has never even met or seen. Well, ta ta” Miss nelson and “Hello” to you, Mr. Preferred Army Stock.

Isn’t that a horrible thing to say – when “The World is so full of a number of things, I’m sure we should all be as happy as Kings” But I might add J. Thurber’s P.S. to it – “And you know how happy King are --.”

Really nothing serious. The steam just happens out and perhaps I should keep the “black-marked” pages. I’ll be absolutely converted to it soon as I can successfully keep my words issuing from one cell and my thoughts pressed into another – then everything will be chicky.

Spent the most pleasant two hours early this afternoon that I’ve had in a long time. Armed with pen and paper & letter writing intentions I headed for the little secluded spot of beach across the street. Down the narrow, dark, sandy path shaded by an embracing palm tree arch overhead – with little lizards scuttling through the blue-flowered vines at my feet – birds hidden in the green around but chirping their excitement over unmolested secluded nests. Back into the sun and to the shore – spread my towel under an overhanging palm tree whose fan-like branches reached down to flirt with waves lapping the sands – dug my bare toes into the cool sands and became completely absorbed in watching a crab dig a hiding place for himself in the beach – with frequent rests between each titan attacks on the sold earth, he’d dash down into the little tunnel – back up, with his rear legs doing the pulling – upsidaisy his rear – and leapfrog the sand brought up in front claws out the back door. Next time I’m going to take opera glasses so I can see them more plainly. By the time my eyes were focused on the sand-colored creatures they had races away to hop under seaweed piles. Well, anyway, I completely forgot my letter-writing intentions and spent two hours digging stupidly and lazily in the sand, picking out minute buts of shell, fossil and coral – playing hide-and-seek with the crabs – and waiting, in vain, to see a brave-enough wave whip completely over the coral barrier and bring its load of coconuts, seaweed and seedlets to deposit on shore once more. It could easily have been a million miles from Kahala Ave. to the arches opening at the beach.

Much as I try to keep these letters amusing and “factly” I’ll have to apologize that these of the last few days have been neither. My days’ occupations have been rather simple impressions and thoughts rather than exciting events or lively opinions. In short – a flop.

Went swimming in the Pacific for the first time today and loved it. The most wonderful thing I discovered is that is my arms and legs tire of moving all they have to do is stop and I can float along joyfully with my nose out of water until the waves carry me back to the steps leading up to the bathing pier.

Chief among the conversations this week: stock market. Best meal: chicken curry. Almost the best dish I ever tasted. (This was of, of course, an adaptation of) native and national food of India. Rice covered with chicken & curry flavored sauce. Relished with finely ground or chopped – bacon, egg yolks, egg whites, onions, almonds, preserved mango, and about six other flavorings. Wonderful!

Friday night.


Became quite brave today and ventured a bus trip into the City of Honolulu – alone. First stop was at the post office – the service windows open right out onto the porch and all the mailboxes sit brazenly along the outside wall. After three people finally calmed the little Japanese man who was jumping up and down, all excited about something and holding up a waiting line of twelve people, I finally got some stamps. Then came the job of finding the right slot to deposit my mail in – at least fifteen different receivers classed according to quantity, destination and carrier – so I read all the Japanese inscriptions first and got down to business, then with American signs. On to the drugstore for a coke (I forgot to eat lunch) and then to Marcell de Paris. Honestly, if I had the money to spend, it would be worth $3.00 any day just to listen to him talk. “He is a typical continental,” says A. Susan. “Ah! Yeez! Mees King – lofely day, no? Now just sit down right here pleeze – Ah! Tank you. Comfortable? Fine. Ah! Yeeze. Now let me see ze hat – Ah! Lavely – and just your color. A fine choice, mam’maselle, fine, Lafely.” Then he swirls my hair up and around with his fingers (like a concert pianist trying the keys – “—ah – these! You zee – up like these – back – ah, yeez that roll on top is very good. Veery good.” And so on until I leave two hours later. Incidentally he is quite a violinist & plays often with Louise Herron (the Gen’s dau. At Shafter) who studied in Germany.

I just spent the last hour & half pressing to the teeniest gather – my pink organdy for the wedding – and feel like “Why all this struggle for trump of an hour” and who knows – It’ll probably be no trump at all. But a very beautiful wedding where someone gets married & exults later presiding over a very stiff, gushing reception. Incidentally I got lesson number one tonight on “manners of a deb” – “I know you’re a sensible girl, “ says the Boss, “ but when you see Mrs. C – who called to ask about what you should wear to the breakfast – you must gush and exclaim and thank a if she were your savior. Girls of your age are supposed to gush and be pretty silly.” P.S. I must have missed the train on that lat.

I can’t quite see starting out at 6:30 in the morning in my white pique & red hat & shoes to a football breakfast and game. Anymore than I can want to shoot firecrackers & hang holly over hearing a Hawaiian orchestra play “jingle bells” in the heat of the day when I’m wishing for a cool lemonade and an electric fan.

Its all there to take or leave, though, and I still want to take it – so goodnight until a probably dull report tomorrow night –