Category Archives: Personal

Now and then

Today is our anniversary, and Wednesday will be my birthday. We have zero in the way of plans. At the last minute, about an hour ago, we invited a friend and his wife to lunch. She’s on the mainland, but he’ll be joining us. But no worries. We’ll manage to have fun.

Just FYI: If you’ve had your fill of Hawaii primary election news, I have a new story about the Mike Miske case that should be published over at Civil Beat tomorrow. I’ll say more and provide a link tomorrow morning.

As I was fooling around this morning, I stumbled across two photos. I had taken a camera to school back in the third grade at Kahala Elementary School. I have a few photos taken of friends in one of the classrooms, and at some point the camera was pointed at me. Photographer unknown. Years later, nearly 60 years later, I returned to the same spot for the school’s 60th anniversary. The school and the neighborhood are different. Trees have grown, more buildings added, etc.

So I thought to myself, what if I just dropped the nine year old Ian into the 70-year old Ian’s picture?

Here’s a quick and dirty version of us sharing the moment.

Father’s Day is more complicated this year

Father’s Day 2022.

My first since discovering that my father left me a brother I didn’t know about until late last year, meeting him (at least virtually), and now being in regular contact, exchanging photos, texts, more thoughtful emails, with an occasional phone call or Zoom in there as well.

It kind of jumbles our understandings of Father’s Day. He now has to sort out feelings about a biological father he never knew, and now only knows through the stories my surviving sister (who I didn’t know about until I was about 50) and I are able to share, and reprocess his memories of the father he grew up with in the context of his new knowledge. I just have to reassess my/our dad, knowing at this point that I have both a brother and sister he had fathered by different women, but I did not know about until much later in life.

Anyway, I pulled up a few photos for the occasion. Just click on any photo to see a larger version.

First photo, generations. This is my dad with his parents, on the steps of their small house at 3718 Vista Street in Long Beach, California. Checking it in Google, I see that it is now uses the address “E. Vista Street.” I don’t recall the street direction being used way back when I would send cards to my grandmother.

In any case, my dad is on the left as you look at the photo, standing in front of his father. In the middle, his younger brother, Tom. And then Bill, the older brother, on the right.

My grandfather, William Grace Lind, was a shipwright who came to the US from Scotland, landing first up in Berkeley, where my dad was born, then moving down to Long Beach. He built the house, which perhaps explains some of its oddities. But it still stands, and now is worth upwards of a million dollars. I can’t imagine how he would take that news, if he were alive today.

Next photo was taken sometime around Christmas in 1951. My dad took my sister, Bonnie, and me to look at the holiday display. I think this was at the original Sears store in Honolulu, along Beretania just past Kalakaua Avenue. I imagine it was a happy outing.

Looking for these photos, I realize that I don’t have many photos with my dad during that period. No pictures of baby Ian being bounced on a father’s knee. Playing in the sand at the beach. I’ll just leave it at that.

Next up, my high school graduation, June 1965. The graduation was the the University of Hawaii’s Andrews Amphitheater, on the Manoa campus. Later that afternoon, I drove out to Laie to celebrate with several classmates, one of whom had access to his family’s country house. Plenty of beer was consumed that night. I suspect my girlfriend was with me, but honestly I can’t recall.

And then here we are at the Honolulu nursing home where my dad spent nearly two years before his death in October 2010. The photo was taken in 2009. It was Thanksgiving, if I recall correctly.

Dementia was kind to my dad. Despite the surroundings, he thought he was staying at a hotel I had arranged for him. He would periodically introduce me to the “hotel’s” manager, who was actually the medical director who would make the rounds on the floor from time to time. Sitting in his chair in the large common room where meals were served, my dad would point across to a window on the other side.

“If you look out that window, you should be able to see the store,” he said, referring to the original Honolulu office of Dohrmann Hotel Supply Company, which had been in the McCandless Building at 925 Bethel Street when he arrived in Hawaii in May 1939. The company moved in 1955, although I have a dim memory of an intermediate stop along the way. The building was also the home to the Commercial Club, a business organization which was upstairs. Google tells me that it was the location of the first Rotary Club meeting in Hawaii in 1915.

Whew. Enough.

Happy Fathers Day to all the dads out there, whether here in person or only in our memories.

Another DNA surprise

I signed Meda up for an Ancestry.com DNA test a couple of years ago, but then managed to lose the credentials needed to access her account, which I think were lost in the transition to new computers for both of us.

In any case, I was reminded of this the other day, and got up early this morning and reestablished the connection to her DNA test results and matches.

Meda was named after her maternal grandmother, Meda Menardi Renton, whose great-grandfather, Joseph Sebastian Menardi, came to the US from Italy in 1821. The family lore was that he had been involved in revolutionary politics in Italy had finally had to flee, although we have no details about that.

In any case, Meda expected to find plenty of distant cousins in Italy, which might eventually produce some European travel adventures. After all, my DNA has turned up hundreds of Maori cousins, and we expected her to find Italians in similar numbers.

So the DNA results came in, and Ancestry traces her back to England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales. No sign of Italy. Zip. So what happened?

It looks like another non-paternity event, “when someone who is presumed to be an individual’s father is not in fact the biological father.”

Here’s my guess. Joseph Sebastian Menardi, the first on her Italian side to come to the US, was just over 50 when he arrived and settled in Pennsylvania. He then married a young woman of 18 or 19. They had a son, and old Joe died a year or so later. My guess: the son, Meda Menardi Renton’s grandfather, was not the biological child of Joseph Menardi. But, of course, that’s pure speculation at this point, although it would explain the DNA, or more properly its absence.

It’s ancient history, but still interesting to try to put the pieces together.