Editorial 2.1, January 2000, by Deirdre Helfferich Armageddon in Hawai’i Kai My husband and I escaped the dark and gloom of fifty-below weather this holiday season, fleeing to Hawaii where we spent twelve sun-drenched days in the wonderful moist subtropical climate of Oahu. This was not without a price, of course: my husband is covered with an amazing collection of bug bites (no centipedes got him, thank goodness), and we came home to frozen water pipes. There was also the obligatory loss of baggage and delays in airports (both temporary, fortunately). We spent a ton of money and had a lot of fun, ate and drank way too much, slept and swam and read and generally did what you are supposed to do on vacations. And boy, are we glad to be home, frozen pipes and all. Oahu is significantly smaller than the Fairbanks North Star Borough, and Hawai'i Kai, where we stayed, has a nice view across the bay of Diamond Head and the backside of Honolulu. The porch on my stepfather’s house gave us the perfect vista of the New Year fireworks (most of which were illegal aerials in the hands of people flouting the local constabulary—which meant just about everybody, that evening). The explosions had been going on all day, but the aerials started just after sunset (6:00 p.m.) and continued all night, gaining in frequency, height, and intensity until there was so much smoke from all the gunpowder that the mass of streetlights in the city was entirely blacked out. We kept wondering how the airplanes managed to make it into the airport in one piece (they kept flying through the mess all night). Then it was the midnight hour, and the REALLY big show started. You should have heard the choruses of wows and gasps that we sang that evening, accompanied by the chirps of geckoes. The most spectacular extravaganza came from right next door—our neighbor had collected an excellent stash of exotic aerial fireworks, and so we had a ringside seat. Amazing fire blossoms of changing colors (green to red to white to purple) whistled and buzzed and twirled in great acrobatic warbling displays of sparks and sound. The next day, we saw huge drifts of confettied red paper covering intersections and driveways where people had set off string after string of firecrackers. Quite the sight. Hawaii was one of the last places on the globe to roll into the year 2000, and so we had the advantage of seeing what wasn’t happening everywhere: the infamous Y2K bug was lying doggo, for the most part. First there was bated breath over the date change, and then we had to bate our breath again over Greenwich Mean Time. But, to the disappointment of all those prepared for Armaggeddon, all our electronic widgetry and programming carried on pretty much as usual. Even the Pentagon only had a minor communications glitch with a spy satellite. The only explosions were from gunpowder. This non-event made me wonder at the peculiar, dreadful desire shown by many people for Armaggeddon. It was as if people were actually hoping the Millennium Bug would spell the demise of civilization. I mean, the Grand End of the World is probably exciting and all, but why on Earth would anybody want all that horror visited on so many? No more chances. Bang! But the missiles didn’t fly, God didn’t descend from the heavens, and right now there’s a bunch of doomsayers who look pretty silly to their followers—if they still have any. I suspect that when the Final Judgement does come to humanity, we won’t notice. Perhaps one day we’ll wake up and realize that God has already decided, that the battle was fought somewhere else, and we have been cursed. I have good evidence that this has indeed occurred: Paradise is full of McDonald’s Restaurants, Kentucky Fried Chicken houses, Jack-In-The-Boxes, and Pizza Huts. They were everywhere we went in Oahu, potent symbols of the wreckage of all that is good and beautiful. So maybe the End isn’t nigh—maybe it’s already happened, and we just weren’t paying attention. Despite the presence of the aforementioned symbols of doom, Hawaii is still a spectacular place. So is Alaska. But perhaps we should pay attention to what makes a place worth living in or going out of our way to visit, such as lovely wild land- and seascapes, a kaleidoscope of cultures, beautiful cities and villages, welcoming and friendly people. And maybe we should try to keep those qualities alive, try to encourage them and respect them. They say that Heaven is where you find it. Maybe we’d have more fun if we tried to make heaven on earth instead of preparing for the Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Armaggeddon doesn’t have to consume us. | ||
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