It was mid-August in 1952.

And I had a 5th birthday party. In our back yard in Kahala. It may or may not have been right on my birthday, August 17. But I’m sure it was close.

Only a very few people were there. I found this photo while rummaging through photos that I archived several years ago. I was glad to see it.

Left to right: Larry Olney, Robin Williams, Yours Truly, Barbara Williams (?), Helen Williams, and my big sister, Bonnie.

Larry Olney, who lived right across from us on Kealaolu Avenue, was my best friend. He had to be there. He’s the one on the left.

The Williams family lived right behind us on Makaiwa Street. The panax hedge between the two properties had a well worn portal where we regularly went back and forth with ease, adults and children alike. Bonnie and Robin were about the same age, as were Helen and I.

At that time, early 1950s, the Williams had a television set. We didn’t. Televisions for your home were cutting edge technology. So many nights we all walked across the back yard and through the gap in the hedge to watch television with the Williams family. I distinctly remember only a couple. Amos and Andy. The Lone Ranger. It seems to me Dragnet might have been in that early group. There just wasn’t much programming available yet in Honolulu, and only during certain hours.

I was surprised by one thing in this photo. In the lower right of the photo, that appears to be my mother’s dog, Kiki. I remember Kiki. I remember when she died. But I have no concept of when that was, or how old I was at the time. It’s interesting to see that she was alive in August 1952. That adds to my own self-knowledge, I guess.

Kiki’s health decline and death was traumatic for my mother, who loved that dog dearly. She already had Kiki when she and my dad were married. Kiki’s death hurt so much she never wanted to have another pet for fear of living through similar pain again.

Back to the photo. It looks like I’ve got some kind of toy weapon stuck down the front of my shorts. A water gun, perhaps?

And Larry is in the favorite present of the day–he’s holding the reins of a cardboard horse. You stepped into it, grabbed the reins, and then you rode that pony around the yard, walking, trotting, or running while pretending all the while that you were astride that cardboard horse.

I don’t recall other specifics of the afternoon. My overall recollection is that I ended the afternoon somewhat peeved because Larry monopolized the paper pony for most of the party, while I–the birthday boy–tried to hide my annoyance.

The Williams moved away a few years later. I sometimes wondered what became of Robin and Helen. But I have been in touch on and off over the years with Larry, who became a self-employed tax accountant in California. The last time was in 2017 after his wife of “49 years, 5 months, and 6 days” had passed away. I reached out to him again by email a couple of days ago, but haven’t heard back this time. And Bonnie died in 2016.

Time passes.

[A footnote: This year, after some searching, I connected by phone with my old friend, Larry, on his birthday, August 10. I found him in a California hospital where he was riding out a bout of Covid. We talked for a long time of shared memories and current events. I was very glad that I hadn’t given up and reached out again. I’ll have to be sure he sees this post.]