My son, Keola Beamer, keeps a journal of things that happen in his life.

Moments in time that mean something to him.

He tried to write it all in a big black book.

He found it hard to hunt for the words.

And harder, still, to write with any fluency.

As the years went by, he discovered that words placed limitations on the depth of his experiences.

This is why he turned to music.

He longed for a better way to convey what was in his heart.

♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ [singing Makee Ailana in Hawaiian] ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ [chanting in Hawaiian] ♪♪ Evenings at the Beamer ranch were always very joyous.

The air was crisp and cool.

Mother lit the kerosene lamps for warmth, and the ranch house glowed in amber hue.

Oh, so cozy.

And as I sat at the dining room window, I could see Mauna Kea, with her ring of stars.

I felt like I was saying my prayers.

That god was so close.

The ranch house seemed so small, small beside the majestic grandeur of Mauna Kea.

♪♪ ♪ My friend and I would sometimes roam ♪ ♪ the trails of Mauna Kea.

♪ And in the evening we'd come home ♪ ♪ to see her standing there.

♪ ♪ The moon moves around her when she sleeps.

♪ ♪ The clouds stand beside her when she weeps.

♪ ♪ And I could be forgotten ♪ and a thousand miles away.

♪ Still I would recall the beauty of Mauna Kea.

♪ ♪ Now to any land you go, ♪ she will be with you ♪ if you love her like I do.

♪ ♪ O, Mauna Kea.

♪♪ At early morn as we awoke, Mauna Kea woke with us.

It was as though she was our kahu, our family guardian, watching over us as we went about our daily lives.

She was a constant source of strength to give us support.

And she was a strong reminder for us to stand firm in our beliefs.

She was like our kupuna, a loving presence.

She was with us every moment of every day.

♪♪ This next guitar piece is called Makika.

In English it means, the idiot mosquito is not yet deceased.

♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ [laughter] When the children were little, they loved to go into the streams in Waimea to catch shrimp.

They would come home and eat 'em fast.

♪♪ ♪♪ [singing Ke Ao Nani in Hawaiian] ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ I can remember many years ago sitting on the porch with my grandfather.

In the growing afternoon shadows, we'd listen to the sound of the wind and watch as it moved upon the open fields.

My grandfather is gone now, but I still remember those days sitting by his side and listening to the soft and beautiful sound... of the wind.

♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ [singing in Hawaiian] ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ Above... birds fly in the Heavens.

Below on the earth, the flowers grow.

In the sea, in the sea, the fish swim quietly.

And it is, indeed, a beautiful world.

♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ [singing in Hawaiian] ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ And it is, indeed, a beautiful world.

[Nona:] In the dream world of the Hawaiian slack key guitar, the currents of music surge around you, the melody shining like a halo around the moon.

If you give yourself to it, you sail across time.

You open the door and walk into the painting.

♪♪ ♪♪ [singing in Hawaiian] ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪