There. Nestled on the the mountainside lies a rock with "Justin Rutka, 1942" carved into it. I don't know who Justin Rutka is, or what it was he was doing in 1942, but as I attempted to hike the Koko Head ridgeline I found myself intrigued enough to jump off the path, trudge over the brush, and climb in for closer look.
After a few quick camera shots I let my fingers trace the carving- about one inch deep and cool to the touch despite sitting in the the glaring sun. My curiosity grew. What tool did the carver use? Was it Justin Rutka himself, or someone else? Why the date? Why this spot? Did the sun shine brilliantly like today? Or was the carver spared with a cloud cover and cool trades? Did they hum or sing a little song as they set about their task?
It's been a week since the hike, and I still find myself intrigued and curious about this Justin Rutka fellow...
This isn't the first time I've been compelled by the random and simple mysteries of life.
My first memory, though I'm sure there were many before this, was when I was about 8yrs old. One day, on the simple playground of Pukalani Elementary School, kids lined up against the chain link fence staring at an old wooden red house that sat on top the hill of what is now the Kua Aina subdivision. Before it was a sea of family homes on subdivided lots, it was just a grassy knoll where a rustic forgotten house stood all alone. I remember catching wind of the stirring energy, and joining up to where my peers stood staring. I asked what was going on, and was informed that the house was haunted, and several of the kids had caught glimpse of the ghost that lived there.
I'm not sure how long after, but eventually, Kimi, our friend Coral and I found our way to the abandoned house and ventured through. The spooky fear we initially felt peaked as we wondered through the empty rooms making our way across the creaky, and in some places, missing floorboards. My memory eludes me, and I can't quite recall what is real or what I've added and embellished to it over time, however, the image of old furniture and the remnants of a once lived in home drift foggily through my mind.
As like so many sensationalized things in life, the hype at school faded in about a week and with it so did the excitement and intrigue. Also when Coral's parents got wind of our adventure, they banned us from going back due to fear that we might fall through the floor or hurt ourselves in some other way. They also explained to us in that dull adult way that lacks mysticism that it was nothing more than a forgotten structure, no ghosts, no hoopla. And so, the mystery faded. However, every now and then I remember that house from a the vantage point of an 8 yr old child peering through the school's chain link fence, and I still picture it sitting perfectly there on that stark hill. When I conjure up this image, I often catch just the slightest glimpse a middle aged motherly ghost who winks and smiles back at me.
Another lackluster but at the time completely compelling mystery was the Old Maui High School, located above Ho`okipa. It was rumored to be haunted, and as a high schooler, there were more than a few nights that my friends and I dared each other to leave the safety of the car and to brave the old abandoned school. We usually ended up huddled together creeping our way toward the entrance, perhaps a bit further in before becoming frightened and fleeing, often screaming the whole way our way back to the car. We were certain we could feel the spirits that inhabited the area.
I loved the Old Maui High School and while I appreciate the restoration that's currently being done to it, I loved it most as how it was in those high school days. In the light of the day, I would walk through the corridors and classrooms and let my eyes take in the havoc of abandonment and nature's invasion. With it's over turned desks and chairs, banyan roots and other plants growing over and throughout, along with broken glass and graffiti, I found it dreary and beautiful. I became obsessed with the mystery of why it had been left in such a way, and was convinced that the answer must be something deep seeded and hidden. I remember researching archives at the library, and coming up with no other answer than something about a water line break and the fact that it was too small to function as a high school. At the time I was convinced there was more to the story, but the answers never revealed themselves.
As time goes on and I get older and lose my mysticism, life's little mysteries become dulled. An abandoned old shack or institution is met with a practical hypothesis... gone are the days of haunted houses. I now think up the water line break or the size factor myself... I don't see glimpses of the ghosts that inhabit them, nor do I find myself scared and running back to my car.
But every now and then, the curious child that loves a good mystery peaks out, and I find myself compelled all over again.
Thank you Justin Rutka 1942...
