Lono is the god of clouds and storms.  His signs are thunder, lightning, earthquake, rain, rainbows, and the wind.  He may be related to a Tahitian god that was considered to be the messenger of the gods.  The high priests prayed to Lono for rain and the protection of the crops, as well as good health.

Lono figured prominently in the Makahiki festival, which was held during the rainy season each year, from October to February.  During this time the tapu regulations were relaxed and athletic contests were held.  Father Lono, or the Long God, was created from a straight wooden pole, ten inches around and ten to fifteen feet long.  At the top was the figure of a bird and a crosspiece that was adorned with white streamers.  It was then carried around the coast in a clockwise direction, and required up to twenty days to make the circuit.  At each village they came to, the carriers were fed and the chief attached an ivory tooth ornament to the pole.

The return of Lono marked a time of celebration, hula dancing, singing, feasting, surfing, and wrestling.  Riddles were also told as a way of challenging the mind.  In the legend of Lono, he falls in love with a beautiful maiden who becomes a goddess.  She then makes love to a chief and he beats her to death.  Overcome with remorse, he makes his mad journey around the island, challenging every man he meets to a wrestling match.  He then builds the largest canoe that has ever been seen and sails off alone.  He promises that he will return, not in a boat, but on a floating island.

This ancient prophecy led to some confusion when Captain James Cook arrived in Hawaii during the Makahiki season of 1778.  No one had ever seen a white man, or the size of the ship he showed up in, so many took it to be the return of Lono, and he was feted accordingly.  When he left and then returned, however, the festival season was over and the magic spell was broken.  At one point the natives stole one of his lifeboats.  In retaliation, Cook attempted to take one of their chiefs hostage.  A struggle broke out and he was killed.

It was Super Bowl Sunday.  The game was starting around one o’clock, but the television wasn’t working in the hostel.  I went out that morning, scouting for some place to watch it.  All of the bars and restaurants were charging expensive covers to get in.  Although I wasn’t a huge Rams fan, they were the closest team I had to root for and I’d been following the playoffs up until then. 

The closest bar to the hostel was Minnie’s.  There was a sign in front of the back steps, telling people to go around to the other side.  I snuck up them and then got in the back door when someone stepped out for a smoke.  The place was packed and everyone who’d gone in the front were wearing wrist bands.  I lurked around the bathrooms with my arms crossed for the entire game, from the National Anthem to the closing drive.

The Rams were playing the Bengals.  All year they’d been playing well, building up a lead, and then letting it erode away.  In the second quarter they were winning by ten, but by the third they were losing by a touchdown.  There were some Bengals fans that were very loud and happy about this.  I wanted to go over and knock them out, but didn’t want to be discovered and evicted, right at the end of the game.  Good thing I kept my composure.  The Rams came back to win with a minute left, even though it was largely due to penalties, which always feels like a cheap way to go out.  Still, a win was a win.

After the game, I fetched my ukelele and went to sit on a sea wall in Kapiolani Park, playing until the sun went down.  It felt like I’d always been playing there, and always would be.  Right before it set the sun got enormous, just a blazing white hole that seemed capable of incinerating the planet.  Then it began to shrink and grow gold.  The waves carried that golden light towards where I sat and cast it on the sand beneath me.  Things had been difficult.  My situation was desperate.  In that moment, though, everything was calm.  My fingers knew the right notes to play.