by SE Mathews

Created on: December 03, 2008

There is nothing quite like small town living when the living is on an island in the middle of sea of 7,000 people.

I grew up for most of my young childhood in a seaside town called Oceanside in California.

I have fond memories of Oceanside. Oceanside had rocky beaches and strawberry fields. A historic landmark called San Luis Rey and a nearby mammoth military base called Camp Pendleton. It was part of a magical tri-city town made of Carlsbad and Vista with a healthy mix of ethnicities from white to black to Samoan to Filipino to all the colors in between.

That was in the 70s and I loved living there.

It was at the start of my 7th grade year that my mother moved my brother and me to Molokai where she was originally from and where my grandmother had a homestead. We had spent summers on there for most of my childhood so we were not unfamiliar with the island and it had good memories for both of us as we could recall running around the pineapple fields and climbing macadamia nut trees to shake out the nuts.

Yet, I was not prepared to make Molokai my home.

Oceanside may have had a feel of a small town but it was connected to a much bigger world. We were only two hours from Anaheim to the north and San Diego to the south.

On Molokai, there was no 'get on the freeway and head to the south or north' for a bigger city.

On Molokai, there wasn't even a stoplight. No McDonalds. No malls. No theater. No pizza place.

On Molokai, there was the Hop Inn for ramen and Midnight Inn for a sit-down meal. For fast food, there was a Dairy Queen but it wasn't like the Dairy Queen that I was used to.

Talk about culture shock. To get off the island, you had to take a plane and in those days, plane fare was so expensive that we were lucky if you got off the island once a year.

My first year as a resident was awkward. Small towns are not always friendly and even though Molokai is known as 'The Friendly Isle', the residents take a bit to warm up even if they know someone in the family.

At school, my brother had a much easier time fitting in as he was handsome, athletic and he had a natural ally in a cousin who was his own age whereas I had to fend for myself and find new friends all on my own.

It was scary to be different. I spoke different. I looked different. I dressed different. I stood out and not always in the right way. I was always in a rush and that was not things were done on Molokai. If you ever hear of the saying, "Its on Hawaiian Time!", that means "Relax already and take your time and

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