Ku‘ulei: Succession, to continue on.

Succession, to follow in order.

Succession, to keep the sequence.

Succession, to carry  into the future.

The time yet to come.

A succession plan, have you ever thought of one?

Do you have one who will assume the space left empty when a kūpuna passes?

Assumably, there  will be one to succeed right?

Kūpuna, those who have lived in a time before you and I. Whose  lives may have intersected with ours for a time.

Those who were willing to struggle, who survived  a new hard work, whose hands became molded solid by the work they did.

Whose backs could withstand  the weight of hardship, simple lives they lived, really no room for excess.

Productivity  of necessities lay in their capable hands.

Who will take their place?

Who will  tell their stories?

Who will take their ‘ike forward?

Who will share their  experiences?

Who even cares?

Do you?

Uncle Manny: I was raised in Keaukaha.

I think it  was one of the most formative parts of my life.

The people, everybody was just like  one family, same ideas, same food, most of them had same occupation.

Live  off the land, the ocean, the beach.

I felt real fortunate because I had grandparents  that lived on a beach.

And my young years, I spent most of my time at the beach with them,  fishing about maybe from eight till about 14.

I learned a lot.

I learned most of what my life was  all about was what I learned from my grandparents: discipline, respect, respect for the  land, respect for the ocean.

Unbelievable.

Uncle Manny: I learned how to go with the flow.

She gets caught in the high seas, big waves, rough ocean, and he's on shore telling me, and  I was about 12 years old, I remember he tell me, "don't come back, swim out."

And a huge wave just  pounding, sucking me out.

And he keep motioning to me, go, go, go, go, go out.

So I let the ocean  take me there.

Go, bumbai I get you.

Old Man rolling his Bull Durham cigarettes, smoking his  cigarette and watching me get sucked out to sea, and he's just motioning me go, just go.

About  half hour later, he's on about a half mile away on the shore, smoking his cigarette and watching  me.

And here comes the ocean bringing me back in.

And he's just waving me in, come on, come in, come  in.

And his same ocean that took me out brought me back.

The ocean never takes you.

Don't try come  back the same place, go.

He's going to bring you back someplace else, but he bring you back.

And  it was so amazing.

And from that day on, I wasn't afraid of the ocean.

I just knew, you know, you  just go something is going to take care of you.

Uncle Manny: I kind of look familiar ah?

Security guard: [LAUGHS] Thank you.

Uncle Manny: [LAUGHS] This is how they  [UNINTELLIGIBLE].

As I grew up in Keaukaha, the funniest thing is our house was the only house  was faced east and west.

Most of the homes were north and south in the Keaukaha subdivision.

And  I didn't know why, but my dad built a house there, and every morning he got up, you look at this huge  mountain, Mauna Kea, and I always told myself, "wow, look at that mountain."

In the morning, it  was real nice and bright orange, in the evening, the mountain turned purple.

And every day,  saw the same thing, except when it rained, which was quite often anyway.

But my mind was on  that mountain, all the landmarks and everything.

So I told myself, someday I'm going to be up  there, not knowing that it will be my home.

I graduated Hilo High School, and right after high  school, it was 1950.

The Korean War broke out.

No more jobs Hilo.

18 years old I think I was that  time.

Marine Corps open a recruiting office in Hilo.

I joined the Marine Corps, a few of us  from Hilo.

The funny thing is, all Hawaiians, they joined the Marine Corps, not knowing what we  were going to get into.

The thing I learned was discipline.

Was so amazing how they took a whole  bunch of strangers and in eight weeks, made them think like one person.

I was so impressed with the  way the Marine Corps trained people.

And the first thing came to my mind, what they said, "We're  going to teach you something.

We're going to teach you how to learn.

You better learn now.

Tomorrow  is too late.

We don't want you to learn tomorrow, too late.

You learn today."

And I never forgot  that till today, how effective it was, and I think most of it probably controlled my whole  life.

I paddled with one of the top canoe clubs that year when I got to Honolulu, Healani Canoe  Club, one of the oldest canoe clubs.

And it wasn't something you just walked on and you paddled.

You  were invited, but it doesn't mean you got a seat on a canoe, it meant you were invited to try out.

I sat on a beach for two weeks.

Never got in a canoe until one day, one, the steersman of one of  the crews never showed up.

And the coach asked me, "Hey, you know how to steer?"

"Oh, yeah, I  know."

"Get in there, steer that canoe."

And I never lost my seat till today.

70 years later,  never lost my seat, because I knew what it took, what he had to what he had to accomplish.

Anyway,  I paddled for Healani.

Then I paddled for couple of other clubs in Honolulu, Waikīkī, Waikīkī  Surf, all good club, good people.

I learned a lot about canoe racing, and I learned about the  respect the people gave you down there.

The fire captain at Waimea was Charlie Rose.

Then one day  he approached me, there would be an outstanding program for Waimea.

Tell me they want me to  coach the club, the physical part of the club, I handle.

The Kawaihae Canoe Club was formed 50  years ago, and it took off like a house on fire.

Kahealani: He was my dad, for first and foremost.

But  when we were down here, he wasn't my dad, he was my coach.

He told us that if we weren't  treated the same down here as everybody else, then he would have a hard time coaching, and that we  understood.

So we became like any other paddler.

That taught me that he really loved us, you know,  otherwise he wouldn't care, like, if he came down here and he yelled at us in front of everybody,  he wouldn't care, you know.

But he cared.

Uncle Manny: The first year of competition, Kawaihae was virtually unbeatable, seeing  all these young kids.

The whole Waimea town closed down on Saturdays when there's a  canoe race, and the people just responded unbelievably.

Four generations have come through  this club already.

Little different, same people, same family, but yeah, four generations  have come true.

I've seen them all.

Isabel: Stern.

He'll tell it like  it is, but he's fair with them, and it's so neat.

When you come down and he's  asking a question, and they'll go, "yes, sir."

You know his military background, being a fireman.

They looked up.

They always look up to him.

Kahealani: There's always going  to be people that don't agree, of course, but the ones that do and  respect him, they always come back, and they always tell him what a difference  that he's made in their lives.

And some didn't even know it until later on in life.

You  know, the ones that he was really hard on, and some of them not here anymore.

You know,  before they passed on, they reached out to him.

Uncle Manny: I first woke up here about  40 years ago.

Then the past 10 years, very often.

Nobody, I'm alone, no cars,  no nothing, no human beings, only me.

Kahealani: The reason why he came back here  was because of his passion, which is Mauna Kea.

Uncle Manny: You hear a lot of people talk  about the mountain and stuff like that, they never saw the mountain.

They think  they know Mauna, Kea, they don't know.

I've seen what nobody will ever see.

Lot of it  is being covered already by cinders, windstorms, it's still there.

But you guys just gotta know.

I go up to Poli‘ahu, Poli‘ahu is my favorite spot.

I used to go up the mountain, when before  they had a road.

They stay in the 50s, late 50s, they opened up sheep hunting, and we used  to walk to Lake Waiau from Hale Poli‘ahu.

The road ended there, was only the trail,  the Humu‘ula trail.

Walked all the way up, walk to the summit.

Then you became accustomed  to the silence.

What I loved about it, and you stayed up there whole week, there  in the back country, in the mountain, sometimes you cannot come out because you're  fog in for two or three days and no place to go except walk.

And you learn how to exist in  a wild country like that, in the fog, knowing, just by looking at the grass where you were, just  by looking at grass, you can't see anything else, only the ground.

Your senses became just like  the animals, they're like the wild animals, sheep, gold, pig, the nēnē.

And you could sense  the animal, you could feel them, you could heal.

You became so acute.

Your senses are different.

And I love being there.

I love the loneliness.

You know, what do you guys understand?

It wasn't  all roses, you know?

A lot of hard times.

Too real.

Hard Times wasn't easy.

It's not only the  good, because lot of bench parts.

If anybody had bad sides, they had a lot of them.

But you got to  overcome all that.

It's you, how you look at it.

Uncle Manny: He's always been the guiding  rock for me, the guiding light.

He's taught me that if you're going to do something, go  for it, but also do it right.

The first time, he has always told us, don't give up.

He  is such a big part of everyone's lives.

Kahealani: keep coming back to the same  word, so I guess it's humble.

He doesn't like to flaunt.

He'd rather stay in the  background.

But yet, he knows how to get things done.

He knows what he wants to do.

He  knows where he's headed.

That's just my father.

Uncle Willy: Living in this kind of place, you know, I mean  you there's no other alternative but learn how to fish.

And not only one type, you know,  there's so many different ways.

My uncles, they used to make their own hooks and make  their own lines.

I just couldn't believe, you know, I go paddle with them, or whatever, you  know, fishing they do.

The way they do things and magnificent, you know what, whatever  they did.

So I took, took it serious.

Kaimi: You know, Miloli‘i still is kind of a blast  in the past already, because of our isolation.

His parents, specifically, and even his grandparents  and grandmother guys were very influential in the community.

Our ‘ohana, they could, they could  weave, they could do all kind of different crafts, lāʻau lapaʻau medicine, they were, you know,  they had all kinds of different things, but we tried to keep a lot of the practices  going, which pertained mainly around fishing.

Uncle Willy: A lot of fish, lot of ‘opihi.

The  one I was loaded, we come home like 5-10 tubs, you know, my uncle used to go with his bamboo pole,  scoop the water.

That's how I learned to dive, actually.

He went, pile up all the wana, and  then he smashed them, then the fish all came, then and I dive in the water to shoot.

It  was loaded.

I think the ‘ōpelu industry is the biggest industry as far as growing up in  Miloli‘i.

It wasn't ahi, it wasn't menpachi, it wasn't bottle fish, you know.

Like the  old days, I can remember that our parents was always talking about Moon calendars, you know, for  fishing, yeah.

I never think was that important.

But I realized now, good and old, it was making  sense.

The moon flowers and stuff like that, you know.

It helps you know that what's going to  happen soon.

Know when the wana's going to be fat, or the ‘opihi be ready, you know?

I mean,  these Hawaiians had everything down, you know.

Man, the boat just come in with a lot  of fish, you know what I mean, a lot of fish.

Kaimi: When I was growing up in the early  '80s, '90s, it was in that transitional growth time.

A lot of people were coming in,  and the rest of the state was moving ahead, but Miloli‘i was still trying to be a place  that is rooted deep in culture and history.

Uncle Willy: When I first came home, all my  friends was complaining about the ‘ōpelu thing.

These guys was broken the rules so and I was  thinking, how gonna get this thing straightened up, yeah?

So I got involved and say, "Hey, we have  certain condition in the village that we want to uphold, to fish in that way, from the kūpunas.

So  what can you guys do to help us?

You know, without fighting, you know?"

I kind of felt like, wow, my  place was getting invaded.

You know what I mean?

Uncle Willy: There was going to be a huge Marina about 10-miles  down the village, and I jump on it with all my friends and just stop it, you know?

And then I'm  glad I did that, you know what I mean, because we had that marina warehouse, I think this village  be all destroyed.

It was going to put 400 boats.

Uncle Willy: Senator Inouye recognized what  I did.

He sent me to Washington and gave me that recognition of preserving, to  establish, like a national thing.

Uncle Willy: You know, when you get some things that you know  it's not right, you got to make it right, yeah.

Kaimi: Was something that could have  progressed this southern community more opportunities.

But at that time, in the  '80s, he saw already the destruction of so much Western influence and external pressure  to eventually destroy a lot of our ways of life.

We're able to overcome that, then he was  able to help get all these homes for the ‘ohana so that we can still have a connection  to this place.

And in the last 10-15 years, he worked really hard to stop other issues  that are close to his heart, specifically, He sued the state when it came to protection of  our reefs so that we don't want any more people to collect aquarium fish for the tanks.

And that  was a huge accomplishment for him.

And then we had the Governor of Hawai‘i come and sign a  community-based subsistence fishing area.

So he's been a kūpuna behind the scenes, always  encouraging us and so happy that we finally got to do what he always wanted to do, which is  take care of this place so that it can continue to help the next generation, the future  that will carry on that kuleana.

Uncle Willy: You know, times is changing, and we only can  educate our kids, or talk about the kūpunas and see the kids that can carry on.

You know, how  willing for they want to practice and maintain that?

Yeah?

Came here one day, I went down there  to his school, and this, this boy had lunch break.

He gone to his car, got his throw net, and he  went, go throw it, came back, about one dozen of this kind [UNINTELLIGIBLE].

I said, "Kim, you  better give him two As.

Look at this.

On his lunch break, he getting, look!"

You know, I was shocked,  you know, to see this small boy, you know.

God man, he's gonna get it down.

He's already, you  know, developing that to what he can do, because he watched his uncles, he watched everything,  and now he's doing it.

So how can go wrong?

Uncle Willy: There's some  future that ahead of us, and always we're going to bring the people  closer to know what we're striving to.

We want to retain the value of the fish,  we don't want to destroy it.

It's time, I think everybody, wherever you at, it's time  to wake up.

Don't wait when it's all gone.

Kaimi: We are in a time of so much change, I  think, even more than ever.

And I just hope that the people of Hawai‘i look at the work we  do as a model for them to stand up for their places that ‘ōpelu fishing is iconic fishing for  Miloli‘i.

But it really is more than just that, like it is part of who we are, it's  an extension of our our ‘ohana.

So we can look 10-20 years down the road  and see that it'll feed our families, it'll teach our next generation, and it  will really help our lāhui to thrive.

Uncle Keoni: My lifestyle growing up in  Ka‘alaea, most people know their places, Kahalu‘u, that was my grandmother's ahupua‘a.

Esther Kukahiko, yeah.

She's original from the Big Island.

We grew up in the ocean, yeah.

Walking  from baby time, from first, second grade up to we got to adults.

That was a great time, making imu  all the time.

Our young kids, when we was younger, that was our job for cleaning the imu, yeah.

The  job for make the imu was our dad them, our uncles.

And that was our time to learn how to do that  type of work, yeah.

And it's not one time, a year, that was like every other week we doing that work.

Imu, yeah, catching turtle, yeah.

Turtle was the main meat for us, yeah?

So people, if you know  about the lifestyle of living in Hawai‘i, never had cows, never had cattle around.

Yeah we barely  had cattle or pigs, yeah, but our main meat was a turtle.

One big turtle, maybe a week.

Because,  you know, much kids in a family, yeah?

And there was only that family, Aweaus, Kukahiko, Pakele,  yeah, Manuia, yeah, that was our family line.

Leomana: Some crazy things is, if you look in his van, he  has like, two medals hanging from his rear view.

One is the Molokai Hoe gold medal, and that's from  when he was, I think, in his 20s, maybe 21.

He was the youngest man to ever paddle Moloka‘i, I think  he was 12, and you're supposed to be 13 to enter.

So he was 12 years old.

Him and my uncles were  all 12, and it's like a cultural battle between us and the Samoans, Polynesians, and Maori, who's the  king of the ocean, because that's kind of like our history and how we got here.

So if you can be the  best in that, then, hey, you lead the Polynesians.

And if you lead the Polynesians in voyaging in  wa‘a, you lead human exploration.

That's kind of like a title in history that I think is super  cool that my dad got.

And so he got involved with my uncle commercial diving for like, center art  pieces of big black coral.

And those, you know, they start to grow at around 300 feet deep.

And  so he would, on the weekends, hook up a tank, jump in the water with my uncles, and just go  down deep.

And they weren't using rebreathers, they were just using basic compressed air, they  didn't know about mixed gas, they didn't have all the new high tech stuff.

And so all they had was a  compressed air tank with a mass and a hammer, and they would go down there and chisel away at these  beautiful pieces of coral.

They were radical.

Hey, people were paying $10,000 for these coral.

And so  if you can make $10,000 just by a two-hour dive, you're gonna do it.

This is when Hawaiians  were suppressed.

This my dad was the second generation of his family that didn't learn  the culture, didn't learn the language.

It was maybe his fifth time where he went  down, he ran out of oxygen.

Because, you know, these guys with their depth gages, they don't  really know what's going on, and so they just, "oh, I got no oxygen."

You know, he's like,  "What do I do?"

Run out of air, or else, risk getting the bends.

And instead of running  out of air and dying, he just had to come to the surface.

He's paralyzed from the piko down,  and it's more of like a sense of balance.

Uncle Keoni: Told myself, you know what, I'm  going to move to Hilo.

I settled down.

I found a house and I found a school for my son them,  I found a place, down at Kealoha Beach Park.

I parked my car, grabbed my wheelchair out,  and I decided to do some wiliwili weaving, yeah.

Not too much spirit can talk  to me, but kūpuna spirit can talk to me underneath the lauhala tree.

It's  the first time one kūpuna spirit, yeah, and the voice, come touch me and talk to me  about "boy, make Hawaiian drums, you Hawaiian."

Uncle Keoni: [CHANTING IN HAWAWAIIAN] Well, my younger days, I got taught, yeah.

Back  maybe when I was like 14-15 years old, my older hanai brothers got into the hula halau, yeah.

So they was all drummers and fire dancers.

Then when I got into the halau, we was part of  the drummers too, and then we get to learn how to make one drum.

So we learned how to make  drums from John Dalire, because he was the expert and the pro for Hawaiian drum making,  Polynesian drum making and Polynesian show.

I don't know how much drums I made, until today,  sometimes I could say, like, 4000.

From lapaiki, kilu, to knee drum, punius, to hula drums, to  ceremony drums, to different kind of drums, yeah.

And from day one, yeah, I never  did stop you.

[SPEAKING IN HAWAIIAN] Leomana: I look at accomplishments and my dad, I just I  see these things as community changing type of accomplish, you know, not like a personal one.

Hey  cool, he has personal dreams and goals, but when I see him, he's not just my dad.

He's like, wow,  this real Hawaiian Kanaka who leads by example, and he's been hit with the hardest thing in life  to take away his lower half of his body, but look at him go.

And so he's accomplishing these  like community changing things that you know, inspire me as a man.

Growing up, I guess, to serve  the community, he woke me and my brother up every morning at four o'clock to go lay net at four  miles.

And by the time we were out and the fish was in the cooler, he would be waving down the  kūpuna in the neighborhood, and 3-4 fish in a bag, and here you go, just take them.

This is to eat,  because I know you guys cannot swim, and I know you guys don't have the skills.

And, you know,  look at my boys.

They can catch more fish than we can eat.

And he would feed them.

And so I think  that just his foundation of being one freaking probably the best dad I ever will come across  is, you know, like inspiring to me as a dad.

Uncle Keoni: We're getting older, yeah, and  you know, our young time, we had the energy, boost energy.

If people don't do these  things, yeah, you're never gonna find Hawaiian arts.

You're never gonna find Hawaiian  artists.

Yeah, not in Hawaiian.

Dead, died, fade away.

I know that much artists pass away,  but they only will share it with that much people with their art piece, yeah, but who would carry  on with their art piece?

Lauhala weaving, yeah, kukui nut shell making.

You don't practice  that, you don't do it, you lose it.

Leomana: The world nowadays, I don't know where  all the good men went.

You know, if we look around the planet, it's just like man corruption  and nobody does really anything, because nobody feels responsibility over you, you know.

But my dad, for some reason, he's like, “Nah, I'll take everybody in my community, the high  performers, low performers, everyone you know.” And I think that's the kind of men that change  the world and inspire us to all be better people.

Aunty Shirley: I guess I should begin with telling you where I  was born.

Grew up in Kealia.

My first eight years of my life was spent in Kealia, along the beach.

During the day, the ocean was our friend.

All of the little ponds were our babysitters.

And then  in the evenings, being able to go out and gather pipipi, which is the little black periwinkles.

And then at night, the kūpe‘e.

Then tagging along with my dad when he went along the shoreline  to throw net.

Of course, we were told, myself and my brothers, that you never walk ahead, you  always stay in the background, and you only come forward when he's thrown his net, he's taken it  out of the water, and then it's time to unload the catch.

Then we got to carry the bag of fish.

But  then we could sit in the pond, and if we're lucky and the fish was still alive, or one or two, we  could play with them.

Of course, then we ate them later.

Grandpa even had a large, what we called a  big old ice box.

It's like a big wooden chest that was insulated.

And all the fishermen would bring  their catch, and then we would load up grandma's little pickup truck, which was outfitted so she  could take the fish off to Hilo, to the auction block.

To Suisan, which is still in existence,  and if we were lucky, we could tag along.

It was fun, probably around anywhere from three to  four hours, wet with a load.

But for us as kids, there was always the stop at Hongo store  in Volcano because we could get goodies.

And one of the things they always carried  was boiled eggs.

So we could get a boiled egg along with whatever else we could  convince grandma to spend her money on.

And then finish the journey into  Hilo, get all of the fish unloaded, and then load up the pickup with ice, ice  blocks, basically to get back to Ho‘okena.

Aloha: Aunty Shirley's ‘ohana, the Cho  ‘ohana and the Kauhaihao ‘ohana has been a huge connection and family from, you  know, the Honaunau area.

The cowboys, the coffee pickers, the fishermen in this garden,  you know.

She's been here for a long time.

Family member: kākou.

Dear God, thanks for this  wonderful day.

Please watch over us and bless us.

Keep us safe.

Please bless the hands that made  the food today.

Bless everyone that's here and everyone that's away.

Please give them guidance  and blessing, Lord.

In your name, we pray, amen.

[LAUGHTER, CHATTER] Aunty Shirley: My kumu, kumu lauhala was my  grandmother.

On our property in Kealia, we had three lauhala trees, and grandma would weave  when she was not busy with other things.

My job initially was to gather the leaves, but the tree  was cared for in such a way that the leaves hardly ever fell to the ground.

We would take it off the  tree before it hit the ground.

And so I still have that where I prefer to take leaves from the tree  rather from the ground.

And so was the gatherer was me and my brothers, if they weren't being  kolohe.

And that went on for a number of years, and when I was about, well, probably between nine  and 10, Grandma weaving every day to supplement the family income.

Decided guess that I was  ready to learn.

Because she was a hat weaver, weaving showed me what she wanted me to do,  and that was basically the crown of the pāpale, which is just this part right there.

And  that's all she would let me do repetitively, every time I sat down, all I did was  the crown.

And then several years later, I guess she must have felt that I was doing it  well enough that I could learn to do the brim the ‘ekeu.

By the time I was in high school,  nearly out of high school, she decided, okay, you can learn to do a very beginning, the  piko, and then the pā, the very top of the hat.

So by the time I got out of high school, I  got that part mastered.

But it's still the most difficult part of the entire pāpale is  that piko and pā.

Just have to take your time and be sure to do it right, because if it's not  correct, has to come apart and go back to where the area was and then start all over.

Have any  of you ladies done bracelets?

A while, okay, that's probably the simplest and the quickest  item to do with little time, but it's easy to take it with you.

Back of the knife, or like I'm  doing with the scissors.

By doing what I did helps you soften.

It feels like leather, yeah.

Being  raised by my grandmother, and when I got married, she told my husband, you will live with with me,  with us.

So my grandfather and grandmother kept us on, and we lived with them all those years.

Then grandpa passed, my husband passed, and then got all these little guys.

That was probably  the most difficult part of my life was when he passed.

However, good things come from difficulty.

Well, my fourth child passed at the age of 15.

But you know, I realized  that we are quite resilient, that we can overcome difficulties,  all we have to do is work at it.

Aunty Shirley: I love this garden.

I had a  little granddaughter who was probably about eight at the time, and one of her aunts  worked with the Historical Society.

And picked Ku‘ulei from school and  brought her over to the garden.

Ku‘ulei just enjoyed being here, that she was here  every Wednesday as much as she could possibly do.

She passed at age 12, but she left that legacy  behind, and I just felt the need to continue what she had done and just carry on and do as much  as possible for the garden.

She loved it so much.

Aloha: Not just the past loss that  she'd been, she's had very recent loss, three very close family members, and this woman,  I called her, she came stopped by and still is just so strong and just carries lot of weight  and stuff on her back, but you would never be have been able to tell, because she just really  powers through with her grace and everything, and still with a smile on her face and still  coming to check up on me and the kids, and the garden and how things are going, you  know?

So, yeah, she is an amazing, amazing woman.

Aunty Shirley: I believe we all have  something to contribute.

Up to the day we pass, we have something to contribute.

Hopefully it's all good, and if it's not, hopefully whoever we've been nasty to  will forgive us, but there, oftentimes, it's something good out of what's bad.

It hurts me  sometimes when I say we go out to dinner or lunch, and I notice people walk in, sit down, and out  comes their phone.

They're not talking to each other.

You know, conversation is so important.

Talk about what we're doing, the things that we can share in our everyday life.

Put the device  down and spend time with each other.

Don't make that little device your focal point.

The person  in front of you should be your focal point.

Uncle Sonny: This saddle when I went work full  on in 1963.

Is makule this saddle, yeah.

Same speed, same all buss  up, broken down, but we okay.

Uncle Sonny: Three hours brought up on plantation,  no girl, going on plantation, but yet raised up on a ranch, was two different like dialect, you know,  we have the ‘Olelo Hawai‘i and wala‘au kanaka today, so sorta was brought up like that.

My  uncle was top crane operator for the plantation those days.

Growing up till you're six years old,  they moved to Pu‘uanahulu, then from Pu‘uanahulu, learning about horses, worked with my dad,  uncles and cousins.

My great tutu was cowboy.

My grandfather wasn't, but his brother was, kūkū  Kailiwai.

And then my grand uncle was the one that taught my dad how to cowboy.

My tūtū man, my  grandfather, made horses for the Hind family, but plow horses.

They planted corn in order for take  care of the pure birds, makai side Pu‘uanahulu.

And he made plow horses, learn them, you know,  wagon horses.

And then my dad was brought up by his uncle, Kailiwai is my grand uncle.

We used  to walk from Pu‘uanahulu down with grandma.

We'll get seven of us mo‘opunas with her, and we walk  down like, about five-thirty, six o'clock, when it's cool.

When came about 10 o'clock, was halfway  down, Grandma will put us inside of puka.

We wait until like, oh five o'clock, five-thirty, then  we continue our trip down to Kīholo, where was much cooler for us.

From Kīholo, from Pu‘u O‘o  was like 13-miles.

I think from Pu‘uanahulu was like 11-miles, no.

When you look with your eye, it  looks near.

But when you walk with all the haluas, what I mean halua is the hollow.

Ah, the kulapa,  the rise.

Ah, the pahua, the flat, no.

We fished down there because we had a local down there,  Kīholo fish pond.

My tūtū man them, they're the ones started the fish pond down in Kīholo.

Back in  the 1700s, I can't go back as far as that, because growing up, was there already, because everything  in the makau was all coral, not concrete.

Growing up in Pu‘u O‘o and Pu‘uanahulu, dad  used to haul out cattle.

What I mean haul out, sheep cattle out of Kīholo.

And that's when I  was about, like, you know, 6-7.

They put me on his shipping hostage that he took down to train  for pull cattle out into the water, and then he made me swim, you know, sit on a saddle, and they  just let the [UNINTELLIGIBLE] and from there I started until I started drinking salt water.

I  let her go to [UNINTELLIGIBLE], started down, swimming back inside.

But he knew how the  current would just take my backside inside, so everything was okay.

That's how I learned.

We hunt, we fish, we work all together, no.

Uncle Sonny: Back in 1975 was 225,000 acres.

They  ran about like 50,000 herd of cattle.

That's all, you know, mother cows, bull, batter, marketing and  everything.

Horses, they ran about like almost 600 herd of horses.

Back in those days, we had about  30, 30 cowboys, 30 to 40.

I worked for Richard Smart and ride for Parker Ranch brand, yeah, this  P on my hat.

The nice party took care of us.

You know, I worked for that man.

I was sent in Ka‘ū, I  was sent in Kohala, and then I ended up Makahalau, Mana division for 19 and a half years, and I  stayed up there, and everything was all like how Richard wanted the ranch to be run.

Everybody  that we worked together those years really loved what we did.

I mean, you know, from the heart.

And you know, I can name you some good names that you know that we worked together, the old  timers, those were the old guys.

Walter Stephens, Charles Stevens, two brothers.

One, Charles  Stevens, Mana, Walter Stevens, Keʻāmuku.

They were the supervisors.

And then Yoshi Kawamoto, Kohala.

They were the lulas.

What I mean lulas, that time in Hawaiian, they were the foundation.

We were  like the pillars, no, the followers, the ‘ohanas, you know.

Like I said, the Ah Sams, the Kanihos,  the Yamaguchis.

All plenty Japanese family, plenty Portuguese family, the Quintals, you know, all the  Nobrigas, they were good cowboys.

No, it wasn't just Hawaiian cowboy, when one Portuguese cowboy,  Filipino, was all put together, espaniolo, no.

Ku‘ulei: Working as a cowboy, you don't make  a lot of money.

So a sense of appreciation, second to none was how he raised us.

We heard  these words uttered from as far back as I can remember, as a child, "mahalo i ka mea lo‘a."

And that means to appreciate what you have.

Uncle Sonny: Everybody enjoyed.

And then we shared, you know BS, you know we pau hana, we drink beer, you know,  we brand or as we win off.

And when we drive, everything was, you know, work together,  no.

And then when I came, hey, everything in Hawai‘i, Henry Ah Sam, Jiro Yamaguchi, ah, Walter,  ah.

O ‘oe kula‘i, knocked down.

O ‘oe kaula, you going rope.

You the one going rope the  calf, pull to the fire.

O ‘oe ʻoki laho, you go and castrate.

O ‘oe kun, you going brand.

O  ‘oe lā‘au, you going inoculate the calves.

Yeah.

Uncle Sonny: Grandma them was our, our language,  they were our tongue.

See like grandma there like "pehea mai nei keiki?"

She not going tell  me, "pehea 'oe keiki?"

Pehea mai nei.

Ah, she gonna tell you "ah, answer back, meike'i."

Meike'i.

Beautiful when I say that.

Everybody's so accustomed with pehea ‘oe, maika‘i.

But when  I say "pehea mai nei keiki?"

Ah, oia mau.

See, that's another Hawaiian word say, I'm okay.

Oia  mau means that how we left the last time, and we like this again, and we share it exactly the same.

Ah, pehea mai nei?

Ah, oia mau.

See, oia mau is more beautiful.

It's more more contact, more  connection.

You know, more that what you see and hope.

Thank you.

You know.

Ah, pehea mai  nei keiki?

Ah, oia mau.

Likepu.

Same.

Likepu means same.

That's one of our old tradition that  people wouldn't share like that, and I tell them, as you connect, no, you connecting from the heart,  you know?

And then when you answer, is how you receive and accept, no.

And then in the end,  we all appreciate each other, because tomorrow another day.

If no happen, aloha no, but every  day, we make sure that our words that we connect.

Ku‘ulei: I think my dad's legacy is aloha ‘aina,  and that that word is so apparent today.

Used everywhere, which is good and it should be.

But  the way he teaches us and continues to teach us, and have taught us, I think again, is that  succession.

To know your ‘aina, in a way.

What we say, what they say, maa, hele a maa.

You become so  accustomed to your ‘aina, your land, your ocean.

You love it.

You aloha ‘aina.

You look at it.

You feel for it.

Deeper.

You see it beyond this beautiful beach.

We're able to see places that  you never even know existed.

To ride deep into the Kohalas and be above the valleys of like Honokane  Nui, Honokane Iki, and you're kind of looking out and down to them, and the ocean is outside of  that, the vantage points that we were afforded.

Uncle Sonny: When I come down by pu‘u iki, and  then when I look, I can see home, Hualalai, up Mauna Loa, and ikaika via Mauna Kea.

And  then when I stay right on Ola, it just shows everything that, you know, it's right there.

You ever drove up on this Kohala mountain, and they got that mountain before you reach,  you turn up, you know, clear.

They just park, and they just look, and you see them, the  huts, right there, no.

Are you thankful?

Wow.

I get to be all on this place.

I can  be on one kulapa, which means a high rise, and I can look down.

When I work up Kemole, I look  down, I can see Waimea, I can see down Kawaihae, look onto, I can see all the way, maybe Waikoloa,  Something that the pier every day that you're thankful you can see.

If I work in the back the  mountain, Humu‘ula coming out to Laupahoehoe, Pua‘ākala, then I can look down I see Hilo  all the way outside towards Kea‘au, no.

Ku‘ulei: affords us these opportunities to aloha  ‘aina in that way to not just know that pu‘u, perhaps by its name, oh yes, you know its name,  but you know who and what that pu‘u is because your body has physically been on it.

You have seen  the dirt from it.

You have ridden down that steep slope.

You know how steep Pu‘ukawaiwai actually is  because you are on the back of your horse coming down.

So that kind of aloha ‘aina was to know  your places like that.

And know them intimately beyond their name, right?

You look deeper into  the name.

Why that place named that?

Why Kalaemanō named Kalaemanō?

Make sure you know why.

That  these are treasures.

What was handed to me by him and by others are these gems, like precious  gems that need to be tended to and cared for as they need to be, as they should be.

So when I  pass that forward, you're going to assume this in the same way, that it is a treasure and you  got to care for it in a manner that it deserves.

Ku‘ulei: A clear and direct path is there for  you to tread.

Much is at stake my brothers, my sisters, my children.

Much will be lost if  we but turn our cheek to assuring succession.

I can but hope that these words of  mine have potentially made aware in our consciousness that the children we  raise today will someday become the kūpuna.

Leomana: When I screwed up, he made me walk home like  from here, and we live like seven miles away, and I was in second grade.

You know, I can run  away real easy.

Yeah, he's in a wheelchair.

Mana, come here, grab that note.

I jump  in the car, and he grabs my shirt.

Get your outside.

You're walking home.

He  throws me outside the car, and I'm like, what?

And he goes follow me, and he drives on  the side of the road all the way to Chong Street.

Uncle Manny: I still work.

I still work like I  did 40 years ago.

I fix fence.

I can put posts in the ground.

I'll be 90 years old.

I do what I  did 40 years ago.

Not easy, though.

You find ways to put a post in the ground.

Before you could  lift the post up, dig a hole, put the post up, throw him in the ground.

Now, you take you half  a day to dig one hole before I could dig 20.

Aunty Shirley: The thing about shopping way back  then is because you only get to go to the market, maybe once a month, you really stocked up  on everything.

So to be able to get spam, lucky spam, corned beef that was another item,  and then rice by the bags full, 100-pound bags.

You can't find 100-pound bags anymore,  especially on those flour stack type bags.

Uncle Willy: I moved to Honolulu with my  older sister.

I wanted to go on a beach, play, be Beach Boys, and I like surf, swim  and all that.

So that's what I did.

When I met my wife, then I wanted to get out  of Honolulu.

Then I brought her here, and she kind of like the place,  you know, so she moved here.

Uncle Sonny: This my working hat when I was  working Parker Ranch long time, but I can share with you guys, there's one issue about here.

You got Mauna Kea dirt on top, ah, Hualalai dirt, Mauna Loa, Mauna Kea and Kohala dirt on top,  no.

So every place I work, the dust, like down South Point, stay on top here, you know.

All the  way outside.

You know Kapāpala or down.

You know Kohala, [UNINTELLIGIBILE] or down Honoka‘a.

Ah,  at least get something.

Come home with me, no.