The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

Imagine yourself thousands of miles from the next terra firma, on a small dot of land, warm breezes, almost a paradise. With active volcanoes towering above you from every point on the island. Welcome to Hawaii, the Big Island. Everywhere you go is evidence of the last eruptions, nothing but lava fields, some old, some new, some still venting sulfurous emissions, cars and houses incinerated, Danger Will Robinson, Danger!

Up above you the crater glows hellish orange after dark. Drive the highways and you’ll see mostly uninhabited lava beds. We’ve seen a couple of coffee tree groves and nut farms but not much agriculture. For that matter, outside tourism, not much business. I’m told 72% of the island’s employment works in government, schools, administration, fire, police, etc. I’m also told unemployment is rampant.

On top of that add the smoldering grievances of the native population, their land co-opted, their culture subverted, now relegated to essentially a service industry work force. Some of the high schools have a 30% graduation rate. Who needs an education when there aren’t many jobs that require one?

I know, I know, it’s just a vacation — I’m not searching for a place to live. But … I will say, the weather is perfect.

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