In a corner of the yard at the house where I grew up, on Lono Street, is a plumeria tree. It’s a robust tree, the tough native kine and even during dormant months when leaves drop, it stands out with its beefy trunk and gnarled branches. And when it blooms — oh my! Large yellow and white flowers provide lei not just for friends and family, but for strangers who stop to ask if they can pick.
My mother’s family the Kims, moved from Honoka‘a to Hilo in the 1930s, renting one of the houses downtown, on the mauka side of Keawe Street. At this rental property was a giant plumeria tree with milky white and yellow blooms.
After Mom got married, Dad’s mother Apo bought the Lono Street house and moved her two children, spouses and four grandchildren in with her. The large lot had many fruit trees — tangerine, lychee, mountain apple — so my mother decided it needed flowers. She broke off a branch from the plumeria tree on Keawe and planted it at Lono, where it still flourishes.
And good thing too because according to the story Mom told, while the other Kims were still living in town, the Keawe tree was dug up by well-known Hilo family the Carlsmiths, and moved to their property across Wailuku River. I thought: Who moves a whole tree? It boggled my puny little mind.
Decades later when the Lono Street house was sold and my parents moved to Kaumana, my mother again broke off a branch of the plumeria tree for the new house lot. That tree is also thriving and kids, grandkids and cousins often ask for a slip to plant at their home. I can still hear Mom saying, “Take, take! Just break off a branch and poke ‘um in the ground!”
So we did and now there are descendants of the magnificent Keawe Street tree around the island, on Oahu, and potted in California, Seattle, Michigan, Ohio and New York. (And before I get scoldings, yes, each piece traveling by air went through agriculture inspection at Hilo airport.)
I like to retell my mother’s story but with all the changes, it’s difficult for younger ones to envision the now-gone cluster of houses and majestic plumeria tree in the middle of downtown Hilo.
But on Dec. 12, 2022, during my morning ritual with the Hawaii Tribune-Herald, I saw this in the Sports Section next to the crossword puzzle.
From Big Island history 1947: “A huge yellow plumeria tree, a Keawe street landmark…was being moved today by truck to Onomea.
The tree, situated on property owned by Solomon Lalakea, (will)…grace the garden of the C. Wendell Carlsmiths…”
I lurched, spilling my coffee. The plumeria tree! The mother of all of ours! I sent the story to family members who had planted her branches in their dirt.
So here we are at the start of 2023, a time for making New Year’s resolutions. How about we resolve to tell our stories, repeating them as often as needed, even if we have to endure heavy sighs and rolling eyes. This is one way to pass on family legacy and community history before they get lost.
I hope the Keawe Street tree survived the move from Hilo to Onomea in 1947 but if not, she has healthy keiki all over the place. And … I know where they are!
Mahalo piha to my mother for telling us the story, and aloha pumehana to the hardy and generous Hawaiian plumeria tree who is still sharing her branches.
Hau‘oil Makahiki Hou.
Rochelle delaCruz was born in Hilo, graduated from Hilo High School, then left to go to college. After teaching for 30 years in Seattle, Wash., she retired and returned home to Hawaii. She welcomes your comments at rainysideview@gmail.com. Her column is published the first Monday of each month.