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Mauna Kea, White Mountain Journal (CD)
I keep a journal of the things that happen in my life. Moments in time that mean something to me. I tried to write it all in a big black book. I found it hard to hunt for the words, and harder still to write with any fluency. As the years went by, I discovered that words placed limitations on the depth of my experiences. I came to believe that words were rather crude implements. Instead of really describing the beauty of an experience, the best I could do with words was to sort of, hack away at it. This is why I turned to music. I longed for a better way to convey what was in my heart. Music has since became my way of communicating these feelings. So I have written my journal with the sweet melody of the Hawaiian Slack Key Guitar, and wit h the rhythm and rest of the mountain winds. After all these years, I have finally found the tools that fit my hands the best.
Mauna Kea (The White Mountain) is described in a Hawaiian chant by my mother Nona Beamer as follows;
He lei keakea noho maila
I ka mauna ka,
mauna ki'eki'e,
Kilakila o luna - o luna I ke ao
The soft white lei encircles the crest of the mountain
The mountain high above, standing in great majesty
Majestic on high, veiled in the clouds
I was raised by my Hawaiian family on the slopes of this mountain, by the quiet light of kerosene lamps and the distant sound of the Pueo (Hawaiian Owl). This is a recollection of my experiences, stories of my life and small observations I have mad e in this current of time. I hope I have at least opened the cover to this journal. Sit down. Relax. Come and turn the pages.
Keola Beamer
'Imi Au Ia Oe
In a small Koa church, my Grandfather's voice would carry this song. Up along the pews, reverberating against the windows. As a small boy, I would stand next to him, holding my hymnal, not knowing about Good or Evil, who or what God was, just listening to the sound of the old man's voice and watching the skylarks high above the open fields. Manu Kai (Sea Bird) - Keola Beamer
On the weekends, we would sometimes spend the day at Kawaihae beach. Away from the ranch, the sea birds always fascinated me. With my shoulders browned by the sun and feet anchored in the hot sand, I felt their freedom, their boundless spirit as they skimmed above the waves. Sweet Lei Mamo - Charles Hopkins
After the day's work was pau (finished), the old man would pull off his boots, sit in his favorite chair and serenade my Grandmother with his special baritone ukulele. He loved that ukulele and took real good care of it, polishing it with his red cow boy handkerchief, and taking it lovingly in his arms. With a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he'd settle into his big captains' chair and sing this song to my Grandmother. They had been childhood sweethearts and were married for 67 years when the old man died in '90.
Keiki Dream (Child Dream) - Keola Beamer
The kids at the Beamer Ranch slept upstairs on a big hikie'e. (Large, flat, bed) Cousins, nieces, friends - you name it, all laid out in various directions. The trick was to carve out your little space and defend it ferociously against the wayward ar m or leg from some other kid. If you couldn't do this, all was lost.
Before drifting off to sleep, I'd look out through the window. In the moonlight the pasture land was cloaked in a fine mist that seemed to descend from the clouds. At night, Mauna Kea took on an entirely different countenance... an exotic, and fascinating other-worldliness. Bathed in moonlight and crowned with stars, she lifted her soul to the heavens like some giant, glimmering angel.
Kaula'ili (The Lariat)
My Grandfather was one of the best Cowboys in Waimea, not just because the ranch was flourishing, but because Papa had a genuine love for the land and the creatures on it. Once when I was home from college a friend of mine wanted a pheasant to stuff and mount for his father. He asked me if I could shoot one for him. I told the old man and we set off with the shotguns. A beautiful male ring-necked pheasant came into view, proud and magnificent. I didn't have a shot, but my Grandfather did. He sho uldered the rifle and took aim for a straight, easy kill. In the stillness of that late afternoon, I waited for the report of his rifle. It never came. He put the gun down, and slowly shook his head. With a flourish, that beautiful creature lunged into the air and flew straight into the setting sun. We stood there for a long time without saying a word. When we finally made our way back to the ranch house, someone asked, "See any pheasant?". "Nope", he said, "not today".
I began to realize that my Grandfather had a unique style of being a Hawaiian and was blessed with a poet's heart. He often spoke to us of the Hawaiian thought in songs, "Kaula'ili" he said "is not just a leather rope, it is a snare that will entangle your lover's heart."
Hi'ilawe - Mrs. Kuakini
My Grandparents spoke fluent Hawaiian. To keep Papa awake when we were driving to Waip'o, my Grandmother would chatter endlessly. Who was with who, what was going on in town, which lucky kid was going to get a tablespoon of cod liver oil that night, all the really juicy stuff was in Hawaiian. The old man sat at the wheel, grunting and groaning in the appropriate places. If he looked like he was going to stay awake for awhile, my Grandmother would ask me to recite the multiplication tables to her from the back seat. Before long the old man would start nodding off again.
Since they enjoyed visiting their friends in the Waipi'o valley, we'd drive up to the top and go down the trail by mule with the Taro farmers. Hi'ilawe waterfall is always a spectacular sight. It is the highest free-falling waterfall in Hawaii and one of the highest in the world. Winding down the narrow path, the mules would carefully choose each footing. To keep the mules awake, my Grandmother would talk and talk, all in Hawaiian, all the way down the mountain.
(Shiny Shell Lullaby) - Nona Beamer
Those days down at the beach moved at a different pace. The bright summer days stretched out forever. It was as if time had overlooked our small Island and went on to some place else. In the salt spray of the onshore winds, school and homework faded into the wavering heat like the tattered remnants of some kind of dream. This was real. This was our life together.
Leaning over the smoky ashes of the kiawe wood fire, Mother told us of our ancestors who found this land. With the sound of her voice rising over the pounding surf, she would speak of ancient battle fields, of demons and curses. Of love and light. Drifting in the sweet memories of her own childhood, she would sing us to sleep with this lullaby.
Ke'ena Malu (Quiet Place) - Keola Beamer
We used to play a child's game in the forest . The first kid ran yelling "charge" and threw a big stick at the other kid's fort. The other kid threw a stick in retribution. Many years later, I saw a wild-life television special and the monkeys were doing the same thing.
I got caught in the middle of an aggressive charge, with my stick in the air and screaming like a demented banshee. For this unforgivable behavior, I was sentenced to a spend time in my "Quiet Place".
Ulili E (The Wandering Tattler Bird) - George Peahi
In the early mornings and late afternoons, the ulili bird was a frequent visitor to our family house in the small fishing village of Miloli'i on the Kona side of the Big Island. These were some of the greatest times of my young life. Fishing and learning how to play cards from my older (and somehow more disreputable) cousins. There were only Hawaiians living there back then, with naked kids and grunting pigs running around in the one street. The pigs ate the yellow seed pods that fell from the kiawe trees. Walking down the road in the late afternoon, I felt the warmth of many invitations given in that sweet Hawaiian way, with folks calling out from the little houses saying, "hui .. eh boy .. hele mai, 'ai" (come . . . eat)
We learned that if you helped push the canoes up on the beach when the fishermen came in, they would always give you a big handful of opelu fish (mackerel). We prentended that we worked really hard and had the perspiration and acting abilities to cinch the deal. This was important, because we needed the bait. One gets hungry playing cards and laughing and laughing and laughing.
Pua Tubarose (Tuberose Blossom) - Kimo Kamana
To repent for some evil misdoing beyond my intellectual capacity to comprehend, the old man would try to redeem himself to my Grandmother by coming home with his arms laden with these fragrant white blossoms. He'd bow gallantly and present these to he r when she came to answer his soft knock at the door. Nine times out of ten, she'd let him back in the house. Only once he had to sleep with the horses.
This is a guitar duet with my good friend George Winston. It was Keoki's idea to take this gentle approach to the interpretation, bringing to mind Papa coming up the steps in the hope of forgiveness.
Barefoot on the Range - Keola Beamer
We would saddle our horses in the afternoon and go down to the post box to get the old mans' paper. The damn drive way was four miles long. On the way home, the horses knew that they would be fed grain, so they would run at top speed up the very last hill. It got to be quite competitive with the horses. We kids would hold on for our very lives.
In Hawaii, the horses have shoes, but the kids riding - they no more!
Sase (Sassy)
The women of the Beamer family are all exquisite dancers. At our family gatherings, this kolohe (rascal) hula was a favorite. The musicians in the family all had interesting phrasing styles that they would constantly re-invent in their exuberance. I don't think they ever played it the same way twice.
For Sweetheart Grandma - Keola Beamer
Through an unfortunate accident of time, I never knew my Great Grandmother, Helen Desha Beamer. She passed away right after I was born. Although I grew up with her music deep in my soul, I never got to feel the touch of her hand or smell the freshness of her hair. I would give anything to go back in time and hold her in my arms.
She speaks to my heart with her music. I try to speak to her with mine.
Its the best we can do.
Makika (Mosquito) - Keola Beamer
It is said that an angry crew of a whaling ship, bent on getting revenge on the Missionaries unleashed a horde of mosquitoes on the coastal town of Lahaina. The larvae had hatched in an old wooden water barrel during their voyage.
In this solo guitar piece - I express my appreciation for this gift. The triple slur ornament is my depiction of the mosquito, who just when you think you've got a bead on him, escapes and flits away.
Underneath my mosquito net in Miloli'i, I watched the mosquitoes diligently searching for the puka (holes). Patient little bastards.
Ka Wailele O Akaka - Helen Parker
Akaka falls is outside the town of Hilo along the Hamakua coast of the Island of Hawai'i. You can sit up there amidst the ama'u fern and feel life's concerns lift from your heart. The old man said that the Cliff-God, Paoa lived there. "You can see his face in the mountain."
Sitting there together, we could hear the rain forest breathing. It's as though God said to grow and every single plant and tree plunged their roots deep into the soil with some fierce, fantastic life-force. There is life everywhere. We could feel the heartbeat of the falls as they pulsed down to the rocks below.
The old man said softly. "It's a gift to be alive".
He was right about a lot of things.
Credits ....
Produced by George Winston
Recorded and Mixed by Howard Johnston at Different Fur Recording Studio in San Francisco, assisted by Mark Slagle, Porter Miller and Dave Russell. Mastered by Bernie Grundman.
Liner Notes by Keola Beamer
Mahalo; Francis Keali'inohopono Desha Beamer (my Grandfather), "Dambie" Louise Leiomalama Kamaka Walker (my Grandmother), Nona Beamer (my Mother), Moana Beamer (my Wife), Kaliko Trapp-Beamer (my hanai brother), Keola Donaghy (my friend and web-master), Marty Kirkman (my manager and Bocce Ball champion), George Winston (my friend and fellow traveler in the land without words) and all the relatives I didn't mention but who are here in these memories with me.
For more information my music, guitar tablature, performance videos, slack key instruction, and other way cool stuff, wax up and surf to my web page at http://www.kbeamer.com
Steve Grimes of Grimes Guitars, P.O. Box 537, Kula, HI 96790 custom makes my guitars out of koa and mango wood. email: grimes
copyright 1997 Keola Beamer