THIS IS A YEAR OF THE DOG CONTEST ENTRY
There goes the neighbors
A second chance at 100 words
"Yessir, that's the way it goes," Dad remarked. "Sooner or later come our turn."
Mom and Dad had just returned from a graveside memorialization for a recently deceased neighbor at the Hawaiian Memorial Park Cemetery. It was a private affair; a somber circle of family and two neighbors gathering to commemorate a man who was a husband, father, grandfather and a good neighbor to us for over forty years. Word of Mr. Masaki's passing spread quickly through the neighborhood. There was no obituary.
"Mr. Hidoi stopped by yesterday," Mom blistered. "He named all the neighbors who died, then snickered saying that your father was next!"
That was five years ago. Dad turns 86 years old this year. He is planning his last pig hunt on the Big Island this summer and is registered to run in the December Honolulu Marathon. Even he, however, didn't think he'd live past his 57th birthday. That was the age his father was when he succumbed to a hemorrhagic stroke.
My then 58-year-old sister accompanied him on his last hunt. "Yeah, well, had to make exceptions for him last year when he went hunting," she explained. "He had gout so bad he couldn't walk without a cane. I …"