IN December 1980, as a fun-loving cub reporter at a weekly community newspaper, I dressed up as Santa to write a story on what it was like to be Mr. Claus. Wearing the sweltering red-and-white outfit, too-big black boots and scratchy white beard -- and walking around Pearlridge Center going, "Ho, ho, ho!" -- was actually a fun assignment. A Christmas ‘gift’
for kids of all agesAfter donning the Santa suit, I learned to change my gait and mannerisms after adult shoppers greeted me and then whispered to each other, "Hey, I think Santa's a girl!" Those comments tapered off as I managed to stroll about with more machismo and to lower my soprano-pitched voice.
Easily, the best part of the "job" was sitting on an oversized throne in the middle of the mall and listening to the Christmas wishes of keiki. While they represented a rainbow of ethnicities and ages, and asked for different toys and games, the youngsters had something in common: Each believed I was Santa. The real Santa. The one and only.
Such is the idealism and innocence of a child. If someone looks like Santa, ho-ho-hos like Santa, and is lounging in the big Santa chair -- by gosh, by golly -- that person must be Santa. Such unquestioning faith is really quite endearing.
Unfortunately, this same unwavering belief in "what should be" is potentially ominous in other situations, like crossing the street.
Family members of 10-year-old Jerry Kekahuna of Waianae are suffering through the worst Christmas ever. On Monday, the Kamaile Elementary fifth-grader was in a crosswalk with his brothers, 11 and 8, when he was fatally hit by a pickup truck that reportedly ran a red light.
It was a horrible tragedy. A parent's nightmare. Bravely, the Kekahunas contained their grief long enough to ask the media to convey an important message. They pleaded with motorists in the area, to drivers everywhere, to please slow down and be more careful, so that others might be spared similar grief and despair.
How sad that the death of Jerry Kekahuna may also serve as a valuable teaching tool for pedestrians.
Too many of us -- children and adults alike -- bask in a false sense of security when "safely" in a crosswalk or when walking with the light. It's misguided and dangerous trust.
When I drop off my daughter at St. Andrew's Priory in the morning, teens from Central Intermediate fearlessly step from the curb into traffic without waiting or looking, either because they are in a marked crossing or are too "cool" to care.
Adults do this, too. The "walk" light flashes on at intersections and they simply assume that they won't get hit. Because if they do get struck by a car -- by gosh, by golly -- it's the driver who is at fault. And then it will be Lawsuit City.
MY mother always said there's no sense in being right if you're dead right. So when this mere-mortal pedestrian ventures onto vehicular turf, there's no assumption that every driver will see me and respect my right-of-way.
Therefore, in the spirit of Christmas and with sincere condolences to the Kekahuna family, may I suggest a priceless holiday gift? It's one that every parent can give every child, that everybody can convey to loved ones or to themselves.
It's a reminder -- not only to slow down and drive defensively -- but to cross the street with an unyielding sense of cynicism.
Diane Yukihiro Chang's column runs Monday and Friday.
She can be reached by phone at 525-8607, via e-mail at
DianeChang@aol.com, or by fax at 523-7863.