MILLENNIALS IN PARADISE

By Mark Heckey

I stood proudly in front of the refrigerator chalkboard, in the kitchen of our Airbnb. I had awoken on the first day of our fantasy family vacation. I woke up to paradise. Paradise, as in Princeville, Kauai. I wrote a family “To Do” list in clear, crisp block print, using the colored chalk supplied by our host. I illustrated my list with cute sketches of Kauai’s major attractions. I titled it “Family Fun.” As self-appointed family leader and tour guide, I set out the agenda I had thought about for weeks. The things we should do on our fantastic, amazing vacation in Hawaii—a master plan from a Master Planner.

I looked at my list with pride:

Monday—Explore the Village of Hanalei

Tuesday—Surfing Lessons at Hanalei Bay

Wednesday—South Island Snorkeling and Waimea Canyon

Thursday-Luau at nearby Hotel

Friday- Na Pail Coast Hike

Saturday-Waialua River Kayaking and Secret Falls Hike

Sunday-Board Flight Home

I displayed a neatly organized list of family fun and adventure, my vision of family fun. The only problem with this list was my family—a family not easily molded into a neat, scripted list of activities. As usual, I had forgotten to build consensus. This neat and tidy list would soon be shifted, rearranged, halted by weather, derailed by lack of pre booking, complicated by traveling in peak holiday Christmas season (a cardinal sin for tourists), altered by individual preferences, changed by the needs of others, impacted by a vicious common cold spreading among us, and stopped by the tyranny of time. In other words, it became a typical family vacation. A chaotic stream of life events sabotaged my carefully constructed list.

Princeville sits high on a bluff overlooking Hanalei Bay. The Bay is two miles long and stretches in an arcing crescent along the northeastern side of Kauai. This half-moon arc of golden sand is framed by 4,000-foot high green mountains. In the distance, you can see cascading waterfalls running down to the bay. The shallow waters of the bay reach out to the drop of the deep ocean edge where the outer reefs create even measured sets of rolling waves. It is here that our adventures began.

My kids are “Millennials.” What is a millennial? Millennials came of age in the early 2000s. My three adult children range in age from 23 to 31.

My first-born is Chris. If our family played the crew of the Starship Enterprise, Chris would be Spock. Chris is bright, rationale, and logical. He is also kind and caring, but like Spock, he is reserved with his emotions. He possesses a great reserve of patience, especially when explaining technology to his parents. Chris knows how to decipher computer systems and at 31, how to decode his human half. The Vulcan is the first side you see, but a kind and caring heart rests beneath the logical surface. Chris is tall, sandy-blond, and like his Dad, nearsighted. He could easily be mistaken for a college professor.

Katie is my second millennial. She is outdoorsy, artistic, and energetic. She laughs easily and her hazel eyes sparkle when she smiles. She loves the natural world, capturing it in beautiful post- card sized watercolor paintings. Katie would rather sleep in a tent than a four-star-hotel. Her Mom admires her intuitive nature .Katie can translate feelings and emotions, deftly responding to a variety of personalities. She operates with special radar and possesses an instinct for reaching people. Katie is fiercely independent; her brother Rob calls her an alpha female. Her one true fault is pride in her self-reliance, making it difficult for her parents to help her with anything financial. Katie wears her light brown hair in a bob-cut to accommodate her adventurous life style.

Rob is our gentle giant. He ran track and played football in high school. The weight room imprinted a sleek and chiseled physique. He has broad shoulders and a handsome face. Rob’s personality roams between self-confidence and a surprising shyness. He, like Katie, is artistic and athletic. Unlike his siblings, he is a clotheshorse and a self-styled fashion plate. He owns a well-equipped closet. Rob is open to impulsive action, a trait that leads him to many new experiences but also into difficulties. At 23, he is unsettled into a long course for his life. He is tall like his brother, also sandy haired with bright blue eyes that shine from mischief. His voice- acted jokes easily travel into different characters and personas. Often called a “character” himself, a comedian we know to have deep sensitivities. Standing next to his brother, they look like twins.

The other millennials on our adventure are Hillary and Nelson. Hillary is Chris’s fiancée and Nelson is Katie’s beau.

Hillary is lovely, bright, and a great talent in art. She draws animated storyboards for Walt Disney Corporation. Hillary’s creativity is abundant. She can weave a story with her pen. Her wit is sharp and her sense of humor pronounced. I often wonder how my son got so lucky. She has reddish hair and hazel eyes.

Nelson is nimble and quick, both in life and on a skateboard. Now 34, he is the oldest millennial on the trip. Nelson is ninja like, at times a shadow, but always present in times of need. He won our family’s gratitude with his caring help during a serious family illness. Quietly from the background, Nelson appeared to help, to watch, to sit by a hospital bedside. Nelson is thin and wiry, built with a sleek and low profile of strength. His brown eyes and curious smile are filled with child-like delight. A swath of hair often drops over one eye. His dark beard is lush and full. Nelson’s movements are cat-like energy. Somehow, his presence brings calm.

***

The journey began when my wife and I arrived in Burbank, California, to stay at our daughter’s duplex, arriving in time to catch a few hours of sleep before we were all up at 4 AM to catch the flight out of LA X. All seven tired souls crowded into my Highlander. We strapped luggage at odd angles in the pre-dawn light and gulped our coffee. After sleep walking like zombies to our boarding gate, we were on our way!

The lack of sleep was taking its toll on my Boomer body. Somehow, we arrived in Paradise seven hours later, on yet another shuttle, this one to the rental car facility. Here I encountered my first embarrassment of leadership—I had booked a lower cost SUV, but one that was restricted to five passengers. I spoke to the rental car agent who grinned when she saw the size of our party. “You will need our largest vehicle, sir, and I must tell you that there are only two on the lot; you can have the Dodge Caravan or that white Chevy Tahoe.” I explained our circumstance to the waiting millennials, it was clear that the van was not cool with them, so I gulped and pointed to the behemoth SUV. Soon everyone was chattering back and forth. Memories of past trips to Hawaii were enlivening the conversation. Most of the talk was turning to food and out came the cell phones, all the millennials going right to social media reviews of great places to eat. I thought I should start giving everyone their bearings and describing the distance to our rental home, various shopping centers on the way and my recommendation for a place to eat called the Bull Shed. I found myself repeating myself, as no one responded. Are they deaf? I thought.

Then the huge SUV started to lane travel in the wind. I was having difficulty with the tracking settings of the vehicle, not sure, if I was in Four Wheel, All Wheel, or Street Setting. My son Chris took this moment to correct me: “Hey Dad, watch your lane. You’re all over the place!”

I hit a pothole, a regular lane marker on this rain-soaked highway. “Hey Dad, take it easy, were jumping around back here!”

I was tiring quickly, my Boomer Bod needing about four more hours of sleep. “Hey take it easy on the old man; this beast is hard to wrangle!”

After a short grocery run to Safeway, we found Princeville and our rental house inside a subdivision style development. In Paradise, a subdivision has the most beautiful landscaping possible, with cage free chickens running the streets and beautiful hibiscus bushes instead of fences. It was a lovely sight. We found the key and saw the cute sign asking us to remove our shoes, island style. At last, we were in!

At first, I thought we had entered into an opening into a parallel dimension; the house looked normal size from the outside, but once we in, and it seemed to grow in size, with hallways going off in several directions. It was like getting two houses for one. It must have been 4,000 square feet with private bedrooms for all three couples and a nice bachelor pad in the office for Rob. The millennials began to ooh and awe.

“Wow, this place is awesome,” said my son Chris. “Who booked this?” Chris toured the house quickly, taking large strides in every direction. “Hey the rooms are awesome and they have queen sized beds!” The bed would accommodate his six- foot –three-inch frame. Unfortunate for Rob, also six-foot -three, would later draw a short straw and get the roll away bed.

“I did, I found this, and I got this!” I shouted for all to know that Family Leader has some skills; even though he could not maneuver, a giant Humvee sized military transport.

The next morning was a harbinger of what was to come, No hot water! I fumbled through the house directions and found an instruction for setting the hot water. I moved the dial to what I thought was heat boost. Three hours later, there was still no hot water. I called the Property Managers. They were gone for the weekend but their recording said they would call us Monday. Great, no hot water for two mornings! Then it started to rain, and rained some more, soon it was a downpour.

On Monday, the rain let up a little. We had a late breakfast and after an animated discussion, the group chose an activity—hiking the nature trail near the Princeville Shopping Center. We began the tedious process of getting ready for a hike, including cold showers. The name of the nature preserve was Okolehao. I knew that Kauai can have some muddy trails, but nothing in my past hiking experience would have prepared me for what we found that day. Several days of torrential rains had turned the trails into mud sluices, covered in a half-inch coating of reddish-brown goo, oozing down the hill and into the valley below. Everyone fell that day and my wife and I fell twice for every millennial to lose their footing. I struggled to make even a mile in an hour.

My son Chris came to my rescue. I removed my white tennis shoes, now covered in grey/red muck and he pushed me up the hill, shoving against my butt and holding me back from an unplanned sluice ride. It was embarrassing but we finally made the ridge- line. Despite many falls and unexpected thrill rides down the mountain, we made the summit and saw the most beautiful view of Hanalei Bay.

The next day would be a beach day. To our surprise, we found that our vacation house was equipped with two surfboards, two boogie boards, three bikes, and five sets of snorkel gear! We had the supplies for everything on my activity list. Things were looking up now.

We jammed all the beach stuff into the SUV. Chris, Hillary, and Nelson had all signed up for surf lessons. They would ride the waves and the rest of us would watch from the safety of the beach. Nelson grew up skate boarding in Southern California, and his balancing skills transferred to the surfboard. He was the first to get up on the board. Chris and Hillary struggled a bit but stuck short rides before the end of the lesson. In the aftermath of the lessons, my youngest son, Rob, had an unusual experience involving his life guard training; a dog that had entered the surf, got confused, and started (dog) paddling out to open sea. People were gathering on the pier to see what would happen to the dog. Rob finally dived in and swam to the dog. He guided the dog back to shore. His reward was a spray of water as the dog sprinted for home. Rob got a friendly round of applause from the group on the pier.

After all the excitement, we all sat on the beach staring out at the beautiful green mountains that surround Hanalei Bay. My kids have a strong artistic nature and soon the sketchbooks and watercolor sets were out, recording the splendor of misty mountains, white sand beaches, and blue skies streaked with feathery white clouds. After hours in the rainy sun, we schlepped our beach furniture back to the car. A satisfied fatigue settled over us as we drove back up the hill to the rental house.

There were many other adventures to come on the trip–Nelson’s hula dance on stage at the Luau, a treacherous rain and fog soaked hike on the Napali cliffs, and all of us snorkeling around a sharp edged reef at Poipu Beach. However, nothing compared to the day a major squall forced us to stay in the vacation house all day. This day would be the greatest adventure of all- a family game day! With a severe winter storm pounding the island, we dared not go out and soon we all opted for a day in our pajamas, playing family board games.

“Prepare yourselves, adventurers!” My daughter Katie, with the help of Brother Chris, opened up the game of choice—Dungeons and Dragons. Katie showed a lot of excitement in her voice as this game opened her to her first run as Dungeon Master, a critical role of acting as ringmaster, scorekeeper, and rules judge. Chris did not take a player role as he counseled and advised Katie in her Dungeon Master duties. Katie began to illustrate the story line in Orc and Elf voices and vivid hand motions. Katie’s athletic frame rose up as she took control of the game. A new intensity reflected in her blue eyes and her dark eyebrows rose in delight.

I had always thought Dungeons and Dragons was a strange and nerdy game, until last year’s vacation to the Grand Canyon. We had spent an entire day steeped in the role-playing game and despite my reluctance to try the game; I had a great time, allowing my usually constrained imagination to roam free.

“Let me run it down for everyone,” Katie said cheerfully. “Dad, you’re Ron Swanson, a human fighter who harbors a dark wolf side that unleashes and transforms you when under the stress of battle.” I looked at my hand drawn profile sheet that Chris and Katie had provided to each player. “Mom is Galadriel, the High Elf Sorceress. Very magical!” Jan smiled proudly at her character description. “Rob is Judy, Juu-deee, remember? Judie is a half Orc and half Barbarian. She’s gigantic and strong.”

Rob jumped right into his comical character’s voice, “Yes, and Judy very pretty too!” Rob began to take on the movements of his character, started hamming it up, preening his biceps, and talking in a high pitched, somewhat nasally voice. He placed his hands on his hips and mimicked the stance of a giant Orc Queen.

“Are we ready, adventurers?” Katie juggled the special dice used in the game, there were two dice to roll, one blue triangular surfaced with 20 surfaces painted with white numbers, and one ball- shaped one with ten possible scores.

We all rolled the dice to set the order of turns for the action of the game. We all began to stretch our arms and fill our coffee cups. It was time to enter the world of Dungeons and Dragons!

“OK, Hillary, you move first.” Katie started directing the action and Chris whispered and slid notes to the novice Dungeon Master. “What is your move?”

Hillary smiled and shook the dice cupped in her hands. She shook her head slightly, moving off a shock of strawberry red hair that fell across her face, her mouth blowing gently on the dice, her facial features framed by the early morning light streaming in from an east window.

“Be careful, we don’t know what dangers lay ahead,” says Galadriel (my wife). My wife Jan seems to take on an ethereal shimmer in her housecoat and pajamas. Her closely cropped dark brown hair did not carry a crown or wizard’s cap, but I could easily imagine it.

I find myself entering a D and D world constructed only with paper, pencils, and our own imagination. It is a crazy ride, a game that fits so well with the millennial worldview; they are a generation that instinctively understands strategy, imagination, and creativity. We played that game another three hours while the torrential rain continued to fall, flowing across the lush landscape of the vacation home. Time suspended while we played a childish game. A game that once I scoffed at, even thought of banning my kids from playing, categorizing it as a foolish waste of time. Now I realized it was drawing us closer together, binding us in a liberating playful mindset, eliminating the barriers of age and time.

I learned a lot on that family adventure. My biggest lesson involved a newfound humility about my role in my family. Sure, I had been a good father and provider. Sure, for many years I had anchored my family. However, things were on the move, and as Boomer Bob Dylan had sung so long ago, “The Times they are a Changin’”. I knew that I could no longer control the family agenda, the list of activities, or the ultimate choices of my children, now independent adults. I began to open to a new role in the family structure. I saw my need to accept this, to embrace that I no longer had to solve everything or fix everything. My kids have become the most capable of adults and now they were helping me—pushing me up the hill, keeping me from falling, showing me new experiences, and teaching me new games. Our family structure is not broken, it is transforming. The Old Man can find his way forward in these rapidly changing times, supported by his children, and taught new ways of thinking, acting, and experiencing.

The Millennials had come to Paradise and despite the weather, the lack of reservations, and unexpected changes to the island, they created a great vacation and family experience. Play on Dungeon Master, Play On!

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