Swimming in a Waterfall Pool - Manoa, Hawaii - Summer 1983

We went to the pool again this evening, our daily swim. It was another lovely, balmy Florida evening, and Peter W. said it reminded him of Hawaii, of the weekend evenings we went to Waikiki with our boys to have dinner at "It's Greek to Me," and then see a movie in the huge theater with the pipe organ, and go to play computer games at the video game store in the Royal Hawaiian Shopping Center.

Those were good times. The years in Hawaii were good ones for our sons. We hoped Florida would be good for Leif.

I knew what Peter meant about, why the air reminded him of those evenings in Honolulu, and the memories were sweet, though tinged with sadness that they will never come again.

It reminded me of this photo, taken the summer we moved to Hawaii and were exploring the island of Oahu. We hiked up Manoa Valley to the waterfall at the end of the line and swam in the chilly pool at its base. Leif was still so young then, only eight years old. We didn't get good pictures that day. Somehow they all were in poor focus, but they were enough to give us images to go with our memories.

Leif enjoyed the hike, along a very wet and muddy trail, and splashing around in the pool. He could swim well, but though he liked going to the beach, he never was an avid swimmer like his dad. Neither of our boys were.

Leif & His Dad & Peter A. at Manoa Falls, Hawaii - August 1983 - Age 8

What memories do we hold most dear? Is it the family holidays like Christmases spent together? Birthday celebrations? Trips? A special time making something together, like Leif and I often did, whether it was a Western town created with popsicle sticks, a giant R2D2 cookie, a papier-mache Daruma-san, or pancakes?

Or was it the day trips and outings that we took so often, going somewhere to see something new, see a movie, take a hike?

I don't think it's possible to choose, though there might be a special memory among any of those things. Photos are such a treasure, a wonderful way to preserve at least a piece of those memories, and often, the photo will bring back so much more.

Like this hike we took up Manoa Valley on the island of Oahu. This was shortly after we moved to Hawaii in the summer of 1983. As usual, I was busy reading as much as I could about our new surroundings and what we could do there, and I found out about the trail that went up the valley to Manoa Falls.

When we went, it was a hot, sticky day, and the hike through the "jungle" (it was practically a tropical jungle) was humid and there were some pesky mosquitoes, but it was truly beautiful, with incredible philodendron vines and so many new kinds of trees and plants. New for us, anyway. The trail was very wet and we got quite muddy.

At the end of the trail was a lovely, clear pond formed by the falling water, and Manoa Falls. You could swim in the pool and we peeled off our clothes (bathing suits on underneath) and plunged in. I took this photo when Peter W. (in the navy blue outfit) and Peter A. (in the green shorts) were just starting to get ready for a swim. Leif, in the dark blue trunks with the stripes on the side, at left, was all ready to jump in, true to form. There was another family there and you can see them in the background.

The boys had a great time splashing each other and cavorting around. The water was wonderfully cool in the damp, tropical heat. It was a treat.

Eventually we had to get dressed and head back down the trail to "civilization" and home.

I wonder if either of my boys remembered this hike, or so many of our other outings. Our experiences make up our lives, but how many of them can we recall?

Three Volksmarchers - Somewhere in Southern Germany - September 1978

One of our favorite activities during our second tour of duty in Germany was Volksmarching. Volksmarches are hikes laid out by a local hiking club, that wander through villages and towns, but mostly through woods and farmland. You sign up and pay a small fee, and choose whether to hike the short, medium or long course. In those days, the short course was 10 km (6.2 miles), which was plenty for us and would take us about two-and-a-half to three hours with the boys, depending upon the weather and how challenging the terrain was. We never managed a 20 km or 30 km "march."

Volksmarches take place in all kinds of weather, and we were out in rain, snow and sleet as well as heat and sun.

The price to enter includes some "Kraftbruhe" at a couple of stops along the way. That's basically beef or chicken bouillon and is served steaming hot in disposable cups. It also includes your prize, which is a usually a medal with some interesting scene or personage on it, but could be a metal or wax plaque or a plate to hang on the wall. We had quite a collection of these and still have some of them.

It was a great way to see more of Germany, get some fresh air and exercise, and find a new restaurant to visit at the end or on the way home.

Lots of times, Leif would get worn out and have to be carried. After all, we started doing this when he was only two-and-a-half years old and six miles is quite a long way for those little legs.

I no longer know where this particular hike was, but we were living in Sachsen bei Ansbach at the time, and it was somewhere within a couple of hours drive of there in southern Germany. It was a lovely fall day and my guys did what they always did when there was something to climb . . . up they went, all three of them. I'm glad none of these logs rolled or slipped under their feet or we might have have some difficulty finishing the hike.

Peter W., as always with his arms around his boys, enjoyed those hikes, even if we did occasionally get lost for awhile trying to find them.

This photo was taken in September 1978, exactly 31 years ago. Peter A. was almost ten years old and Leif was a little over three-and-a-half.

Leif with his family - Japan 1982

Our family reunion is over, and it makes me think of all the family times we shared with Leif and how our family was complete with him in it. This photo was taken in Japan in 1982 when Leif was seven years old and his brother, Peter Anthony, was 13. We had taken a hike in the mountains.

Japan had so many beautiful places to explore, such an interesting culture. We were fortunate to live there three years when the dollar was still strong and we could afford to travel and enjoy our time there.

Leif's favorite things about Japan were robot toys, Japanese children's television shows, hiking in the parks and mountains, and electronic gadgets.