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Recent changes in my daily routine have opened the door to a dusty room deep within my memory bank. As I drive by Lihikai Elementary School at least once a day, my mind wanders to Dream City. While it sounds like a sweet metaphor or the scene of a fairy tale, kamaaina know that Dream City is real and still exists here on Maui.
Considering the severe housing shortage in post-World War II Hawaii, and anticipating the closure of its Hawaiian Commercial & Sugar plantation camps, Alexander & Baldwin Inc. commissioned a 25-year master plan for a "modern" community in Kahului. A&B formed a new subsidiary, Kahului Development Company (KD Co.), to build the housing development, which would not be limited to A&B employees but open to all Mauians pursuing the dream of home ownership. Dream City would be built in increments, eventually encompassing 4,000 new homes on former sugar cane lands.
The first increment was completed in 1950; homebuyers paid $600 down and $50 a month on mortgages ranging from $6,000 to just over $9,000. The following year, as part of the planned community, KD Co. built Kahului Shopping Center, the first shopping mall in Hawaii, in fact, the first to be built west of the Mississippi.
My parents purchased their first home in the mid-1960s, a wooden, two-bedroom house in the 6th increment. We moved to the 12th increment in 1972, my sophomore year at Baldwin High. By then, most people were referring to just the first few increments whenever they used the term "Dream City," but the development ultimately consisted of 14 increments.
As an 8th-grader and student body president at Lihikai, I participated in a November 1969 Arbor Day activity at the school. Student government representatives and officers planted five trees along the fence fronting the school parking lot. With our principal, Mr. Furukawa, I planted the fifth tree, closest to the entry driveway. In its first few years, my tree inexplicably far outpaced the others in growth. At one point, it was twice as tall as the other four, and I took great pride in pointing out "my tree" to friends.
The giant storm of January 1980 hit Maui harder than Hurricanes Iwa and Iniki, and my tree was one of the casualties. I was working for KITV News in Honolulu then, and they sent me back to Maui with a cameraman to report on the aftermath. After he videotaped the damage to homes in Wailuku Heights and Sand Hills, I directed Rodney to Dream City, to check on the old neighborhood. My tree was the only one of the five to have succumbed to the Kona winds, and I nearly cried when I saw it toppled over, half of its twisted roots protruding from the ground, like arms grasping for help.
A couple of weeks later, home for a weekend visit, I drove by the school to see if the remnants of my tree had been hauled away. To my surprise and delight, its silent plea had been answered. Someone, presumably the school's grounds and maintenance crew, had pruned all its branches and restored it to its upright position. It was now considerably shorter than the others -- in fact, it was about the same height as the little sapling I'd planted a decade ago -- and it was completely bare. Basically, it was an oversized gnarled log standing on end. But it was alive.
By the time I moved back to Maui in 1983, my tree had grown about a foot taller and sprouted a few stubby branches thick with leaves. It took another 10 years, but it did catch up to its siblings, and now they are a matched set of five beautiful shade trees. Every time I drive by, I smile and I think, one of these days, I'm going to pull into the lot and visit my tree.
Sometimes I detour into the surrounding neighborhood and pass by our old 6th increment house, which is still family-owned. Over the decades, different members of our extended 'ohana have lived there. It's where my first husband and I brought our baby home from Maui Memorial Hospital, nearly 40 years ago. The first few years of his life, Jimmy slept in the same bedroom where I had my first slumber party, kept my first diary, mooned over my first crush.
So, if you happen to drive past Lihikai School some afternoon and you see a woman sitting under the last tree on the right, or perhaps even perched on a lower branch, don't worry. It's just me, back in Dream City.
* Kathy Collins is a storyteller, actress and freelance writer whose "Sharing Mana'o" column appears every Wednesday. Her email address is kcmaui913@gmail.com.