My Mother was beautiful, really stunning. She was a hula dancer who carried herself much taller than her 5'4" frame would seem.
Her hands were like two birds in flight; Small, delicate and so graceful...she moved like liquid silver. I remember watching her perform and my heart would swell with pride.

Offstage, Mama hung out with her cronies - other ladies who danced, played music, cards, and.....drank like fish! Those old ladies could drink any young buck right under the table!

Mama and her friends - these genteel old Hawaiian women with their mumu'us, slippers, arms dripping with Hawaiian gold, and at least one flower in their gray hair, were quite a sight to behold; A formidable group of women, most of whom were there during the Pearl Harbor attacks.
Mama lived next to Hickam Air field -I have many pictures of her as a toddler, surrounded by airmen from that base...I wonder how many survived that day in 1941?

Those ladies and my Mama would sit down and 'talk story' about those old days, and after awhile, each one would pull from her purse the purple bag containing their drink of choice...Crown Royal!
These sweet old darlings could throw back more whiskey than a sailor on a 3 day pass; Drinks would flow, food would be served, fish, rice, poi, stew...Hawaiian delicacies would be brought out on large steaming platters and huge communal bowls.

Then the ukuleles would play, and the ladies would dance! First quite respectably, then, as the bottles increased, so would the naughtiness of the songs and hulas, until we kids would have to sit our 50-60 something yr old Mothers down and tell them, "That's enough Mama"....then the younger folk would take over as the ladies and their men would retire to a nice corner for more drinking, singing and raucous laughter.

By the next morning, when all us youngsters would be passed out, those old ladies would still be at it, sipping their whiskey with coffee, and someone would be in the kitchen cooking breakfast, so it could begin all over again.

God I miss those days!

Most of those old ladies and their men, and my own Mama, are in Heaven now, probably making trouble and scouting out a nice corner in which they can get comfortable, trading in their harps for ukuleles, and waiting for the rest of the gang so they can start the party....I'll be there one day too Mama....tune up your uke; I'll be ready to dance my heart out!

*I dedicate this writing to my Mom, Mary Ann Kalei Namahoe, and the ladies of the Hawaii Daughters Guild - Rock on ladies!