Remembering Jack Lord

October 2013

Family Sunday

Written by Barbara

The immense yet agile Australian Shepard mix ran back and forth between Steve’s legs, causing him to laugh even as he stooped down to pet the dog.

“Hey! Hey, Kela. Hold your horses, there, girl! I promise you’ll get your share of hamburger meat, but first, the salmon burgers go on the grill.” As he resumed his chef duties at the gas grill, he looked over his shoulder and across the yard. Seated in a circle were his Five-0 team: Danno, Kono, and Chin, plus Chin‘s wife.

“Hey, Kono, where are those cats of yours? I thought you were going to bring them. I told you this was going to be a pet-friendly Sunday barbecue.”

“Are you kidding? I didn’t want to expose my delicate kitties to that vicious brute of yours. They would have been psychologically traumatized,” Kono replied.

Kela responded with a wag even as the gibe evoked appropriate laughter from the rest of the team.

Danno called out, “You’re some bachelor, Kono! Surrounded by kitties.” He shook his head in mock disgust.

Kono replied, “Don’t knock it, bruddah. At least, I get purred to sleep at night.”

Danno shot back, “I’m not knocking it, bruddah. I get purred to sleep at night, too, but not by kitty cats!”

Chin exclaimed, “Enough of that kind of talk! My wife is here.”

Mrs. Kelly frowned, “What you say? I’m certainly old enough to hear that kind of talk.”

Chin shot back, “Well, I’m not!”

More laughter all around. The scent of the salmon burgers pervaded the night air.

Kono took a deep breath. “Steve, how soon are those going to be done? I promised my cats Daddy would bring home a special treat tonight. I get first dibs at the leftovers!”

“Leftovers?” Steve smiled. “I haven’t even served up the first overs! Why don’t you get that guitar of yours and play us some tunes while we wait?”

Danno offered to get the guitar. “You relax, Kono. I don’t want you to strain your stomach muscles. You left it in the car, right? Let’s see, the tan minivan out front?”

Kono’s eyebrows lifted up. “It’s the motorcycle, and you know it. No tan minivan. My cats and I have taste.”

Chin shot back, “Yeah, we all know you have lots of taste! Taste buds, that is!”

Steve remained focused on grill, as did Kela. He was lucky, he thought to himself, to be “related” to such a family.

 

The Lady With the Pooch

Written by Jean

McGarrett never had a dog before, not even as a kid. There had been a mascot dog in the Navy. Steve had developed an affinity for Perry, who was a Jack Russell (so called because he was always investigating things), so McGarrett knew he got on well with dogs. Even so, becoming the head of Five-0 had never left any time for dogs or women and hardly any friends, apart from his team. After 15 years, that all had changed.

Steve already knew Kela. She had belonged to the old sailor whose boat was moored next to his at the marina. He had got a call a few weeks back saying the old sailor had been found dead of natural causes and that the dog had been taken to the pound, where she was not eating and was pining away.

Steve had gone to the pound. As soon as Kela had seen him, she had looked at him with her big, beautiful eyes, causing Steve to fall in love. How could he let her be put down? There was nothing he could do but to take her home.

Kela took to Steve's place quite happily, even going out jogging with him every morning. Steve's housekeeper, May, was happy to keep an eye on Kela, who was well behaved and did not mind being left from in Steve's back yard with a nice kennel and plenty of space to run around. Steve knew she would be great on his boat, as she was used to sailing with the old sailor, but so far, work pressure had not allowed him to go sailing.

But not today. McGarrett had actually got a Sunday off. Not only that; he had a date. He had not been on a date since he had been out with Alexander Kemp, a doctor he had met on a case some eight months back. He had liked her, but she had been offered a prestigious job in Australia and had decided to go. The relationship had not developed that much, so McGarrett wasn't exactly broken hearted.

Now, however, things were looking on the up side. He had met Laura, the lady in question, at the vet. He had taken Kela for a check up and flea prevention treatment. Whilst they were waiting, a very dignified American Cocker Spaniel and its owner came into the waiting room. Kela immediately started to flirt with him. Steve told her to behave and felt himself flush pink as he looked at the spaniel’s owner. She was very attractive, and he felt his pulse rate increase when she smiled at him. Her dog was obviously enjoying being flirted with.

"Dogs don't have any sense of decorum, do they?" she said to Steve. Her smile deepened the dimples on her cheeks.

For McGarrett to be at a loss for words was unusual, to say the least. It was the dogs that took over, and as they had quite a wait (as is usual when one has appointments in doctors or vets), they started up a conversation — about the dogs, of course. When Steve came from the veterinary room, the lady was still waiting. Steve took the plunge. No use in beating about the bush. The dogs really liked each other.

"I know I am being a bit forward, but our pets seem to really be getting on,” he began. “You wouldn't… erm… like to meet for a half-hour morning walk, sometime?"

At that moment Laura and her pet were called in. Sonny and I will only be a couple of minutes," she said. "If you don't mind waiting for me, we can discuss it over coffee, afterwards, if you have time."

Steve felt like a nervous teenager as he waited. What was wrong with him? Kela seemed to sense his mood and kept wagging her tail and licking his hand as if to encourage him.  When Laura and her pet came out, the two dogs looked as if they had been conspiring as they kept running round each other. They all went to a small coffee shop, where they sat outside. Kela and Sonny were brought bowls of water.

Steve told Laura how he had acquired Kela. He was a bit reluctant to tell her he was a policeman; in the past, it had seemed to put women off. In fact, he needn't have worried, for, as it turned out, she worked for HPD, albeit in administration. That delighted Steve and offered him hope that she would probably understand broken dates and long hours. Whoops! He was running away with himself. They had only just met. However, they arranged to meet the next morning for a jog with their pets before they went to work. Steve was pleased that Laura was willing to make such an early start. That seemed promising, in itself.

The two dogs had a whale of a time, running in and out of the waves. After their jog, Steve asked Laura if she would like to go sailing and asked whether sonny had been on a boat.

"Oh, yes! He loves it,” Laura replied. “My brother has a small boat, and we often go out.” As if she felt a bit self-conscious, herself, she added, “I love it too."

Steve was elated. "The only thing is,” he said, pulling a face. “I don't often get a whole Sunday off, so it may be a wait before we can go."

"Oh, that’s okay. Good things are worth waiting for," Laura said, smiling a sweet smile. "I know what it’s like with a job like yours."

As it turned out, the wait wasn't too long. Here it was, the Sunday off. Kela seemed to feel Steve's excitement. She was also looking forward to a day with Sonny.  McGarrett's gut instinct was telling him that he might be having something good and new in his life, all thanks to this little darling that had put her trust in him.

 

An Unforgettable Day

Written by Steve's Girl

Note: No human being knows, or will ever know, what thoughts pass through animals' brains. I simply tried to imagine and translate them.

Kela curled himself into a ball on his blanket after having gobbled a big bowl of his favorite dog food. As he neared the brink of falling asleep, his thoughts recalled the kind of day it had been:

"What a day! Not only has it been the first Sunday in a very long time that Steve was home, it has been the first time ever that our day wasn't ruined by something concerning his work getting in the way. After running together along Kalakaua Avenue, we set off in his big black car again.

“Oh yeah, the car! My former mistress, dear old Hetty, not paying any attention to the traffic, walked right into it and died. I still remember very well how, after some men had covered her completely, I circled her and nudging her, wanting her to get up. But she didn't. Finally I looked up at Steve who devastated because he had caused her death and our eyes met.

“‘Nobody can resist those eyes of yours,’ Hetty had said often when I looked at her with the intention of getting another dog biscuit out of her. But what I know about Steve today, I marvel he couldn't either.

“Steve took me in and re-named me ‘Kela’ after I accompanied him on a sailing tour. I enjoyed it, even though the seas were unexpectedly rough that day. Naturally, he couldn't have known that Hetty had named me ‘Cromwell.’ How could he?

“It's a pity I don't see much of Steve, but Moana, the big, brown, jolly girl who is living a few blocks from us, takes good care of me.

“But back to today. We drove for some time, until we reached the beach. Steve calls it a dog beach and says it’s in Kailua. Do dogs have their own beach? Steve removed the leash, and I dashed up and down the beach, into the ocean and out, rolling in the sand, and running to bring back the ball that Steve threw for me.

“After quite a while, Steve went to his car, spread a blanket on the back seat, and ordered me to hop in. I wasn’t ready to leave, but he insisted that it was time we returned home.

“When we arrived, I went directly to my bowl, but there was no food for me. In response to my plea for some, Steve took me to the bathroom and cleaned my fur, swearing under his breath about how it stuck with sand and salt water. Of course it did! He just doesn't have any fur to speak of and never rolls in the sand.

“At last, he was finished with all that soaping, rinsing, scrubbing, and brushing and served me dinner." 

Kela yawned and fell asleep as he wondered about the noise coming from the bathroom as Steve cleaned it after Kela and himself.

 

A Free Sunday, At Last!

Written by H50 1.0 FOREVER

As far as Kono Kalākaua was concerned, it was still Saturday night. No matter that the Sunday dawn would break in less than two hours. He was happy. After working at his day job for seven days each week for more than a month, he finally had had a free night to play his ‘ukulele with his band, The Surfsiders. Turning his shiny black Harley Davidson into his driveway near Lanikai, he gunned the engine to cause the bike to spew gravel and sped back to his house.

~

Within his home in Kaimuki, Danny Williams rolled over in bed and nestled his face within the long, blonde tresses that occupied the pillow beside him. Tricia seemed to stay over quite often, now. Danny liked waking up to find her beside him. He did not remain awake. As she laced her fingers through his, he drifted back to sleep. He would not wake again until. . . Well, until he waked again.

~

A few miles to the west, in the St. Louis neighborhood, Chin Ho Kelly and his wife let themselves into their home. They had just come from the Kapi‘olani Hospital, where their son, Tim’s, wife had just presented them with their latest grandchild. They had six, now; this one was their first granddaughter.

“Oh, Chin! She’s so beautiful!” Trina exclaimed.

“She reminds me of Susie, when she was that age,” Chin replied.

“Yes! Why, yes. I believe she does,” Trina agreed. “Do you want something to eat?”

“Later. Come on. Let’s get some sleep.”

~

In a modest cottage in Upper Manoa, Steve McGarrett was roused from his sleep by a light misting of rain. Nature’s sprinkler system, he called it. He wished it had waited another hour before falling, for it brought him up, off his chaise, where he liked to sleep on his lanai, and sent him scurrying inside. His King Charles Spaniel, Kela, looked up at him with an expression that seemed to say he should have known it would happen, then lowered his head and went back to sleep.

Steve shed his damp pajamas and stepped into a warm shower. After bathing and drying himself, he pulled a long-sleeve University of Hawai‘i t-shirt on over a pair of nylon jogging pants, then pulled a pair of white socks onto his feet. He did not put on his shoes; instead, he padded in sock feet toward the kitchen, where he turned on the coffee maker. He had readied it the night before to make his morning libation as soon as he waked.

By the time his coffee was ready, Steve had checked with his office and the HPD to see whether anything was going on that he needed to know about. Nothing was. He heard a thud as the morning newspaper landed on his front porch. Opening the door, he waved to the paperboy, a boy by the name of Moki, and retrieved the periodical. Soon, he was settled at his dining room table with the local news spread out before him, his half-frame reading glasses perched on his nose, and a mug of steaming hot coffee in one hand.

By the time Steve had brought himself up to date on the goings on in Hawai‘i and around the world, the mist had dissipated and the sun was peeping over the top of the Ko‘olau Mountains. The world was waking up to a new day. Steve donned a suit and drove his Mercury Park Lane to Mass.

“McGarrett, you take the cake,” a fellow parishioner called out to him. “Most people are glad to let the state take back their old cars. You hang onto them, then buy them from the state and make them your own.”

“Just this one, Kimo. It’s a keeper.”

“Looks like a hearse to me. All black cars look like hearses to me. Have you seen the new stretch limos? They really look like hearses.”

“Then, when your time comes, we’ll rent a black stretch limo to take you to the cemetery,” his wife interjected. “Don’t mind him, Steve. He’s in a grouchy mood this morning.”

Before Kimo could react, Father ‘Ō‘ōkala looked out at them with a smile. “Did you run out of coffee again, Kimo?”

“Worse. My newspaper landed on the roof. I had to get out the ladder and go up after it.”

“Then, come in and cast your troubles upon the Lord,” the priest advised.

“I’d be speedy about it, too,” Kimo’s wife admonished him, “before Father gives you a dozen Hail Marys and Our Fathers to pray.”

“Oh, the padre’s already tried that and given up on me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, if I were you, Kimo,” the priest said with a mild chuckle. “I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

Steve shook his head in disbelief, shook the priest’s hand, and made his way to the pew where he usually sat. After genuflecting before the altar, he pulled out the prayer rail and went down on his knees. He crossed himself and began casting his own troubles upon the Lord.

~

Later that morning, as Steve made his way from church, Danny and Tricia sat on the beach and ate a breakfast of fresh fruit, croissants, and coffee, which they had purchased from a nearby vendor. Stuck on end in the sand not far away were their surfboards.

“Does the rule about not swimming for an hour after eating apply if you’re only having fruit and croissants?” Tricia wanted to know.

Danny chuckled. “It depends on how many croissants you eat.”

“One. I only eat one. They’re all butter, you know.”

“I’d wait thirty minutes for the butter and thirty minutes for the sugar in your coffee,” Danny replied.

“Do those minutes run concurrently?”

“Depends on how bad you want your stomach cramps to be,” Danny replied.

Tricia wadded her napkin and threw it at him.

~

By noon, Kono was in the ocean, sailing with his nephew on a small, two-person catamaran. They were about a mile from shore as they made their way down the windward side of O‘ahu, toward Honolulu. It was slow going, for the wind was against them, but the teenager, Ben Kalākaua didn’t mind; he just liked being able to spend the day with his uncle.

“Lunchtime!” Kono called as he tossed a papaya to Ben.

Ben missed, and the fruit went over the side of the boat and into the water.

“You tryin’ to attract the sharks or somethin’, brah?” Kono asked him.

“Do sharks like papaya?” Ben wanted to know.

“How do I know? Here, and catch it this time.”

Ben caught the fruit and bit into it.

~

Chin and Trina Kelly were enjoying a late lunch when Tim stopped by. He sank wearily into a chair opposite his parents.

“Everything alright, son?” Chin asked.

“I don’t know how to be a father! Suppose I do everything wrong! Suppose . . .”

Trina gave him an understanding smile and said, “No one knows how to be a parent when they begin, but they learn by doing. Besides, you have your parents to give you advice.”

“Whether you want it or not,” Chin interjected.

The remark brought a smile to Tim’s face, but it did not remain. Instead, he continued to express his fears. “…I mean, suppose I kill her!”

“Timothy Kelly! You stop letting your fears run away with you. You will not kill your daughter. You will be too busy loving her to even think of such a thing.”

Chin spoke again. “Have you had any sleep?”

“I think I caught a nap on the way over here,” Tim replied.

“While driving?” Chin asked.

“You get up from there, go to your room, and get some sleep,” Trina commanded him. “Go on, now! You can’t help Malia if you’re tired to the point of becoming ill.”

Tim did not argue with her. Pausing only long enough to pour himself a glass of milk, he walked through to his bedroom and closed the door.

~

Steve and Kela made their way at a steady gait through Kapi‘olani Park. As they ran along Kalakaua Avenue, Steve became aware of something happening on the water. The Coast Guard patrol boat Cape Corwin was wasting no time as it cut through the water. Overhead, two helicopters seemed to be leading the way. As Steve observed it all, he heard a voice coming over a bullhorn.

“You in the trawler, heave to!” Steve recognized the voice as belonging to Duke Lukela, who was on duty this weekend.

The trawler did not heave-to. Instead, its engines roared to life, and it began speeding out to sea. The Corwin stayed hot on its stern, as did the helicopters that followed overhead. And, then, a Coast Guard cutter came on the scene. Larger and more powerful than the Corwin, it plowed through the water with a force and speed that impressed all who looked on. It was the USCGC Rush and soon fell in beside the trawler on its starboard side, while the Corwin covered its portside. The trawler turned sharply, intending to ram the Corwin. The Rush fired a round, and the trawler lost its power and began to sink.

Steve remained to watch as operations commenced to rescue the crewmen from the trawler. A voice penetrated Steve’s observations.

“I’m surprised you’re not managing that situation, Steve.”

Steve looked around to see his golfing buddy, Frank Okawa of Worldwide Travelers Cheques, bending over and patting Kela. He gave a wry chuckle. “On my first day off in a month? No chance, bruddah! No chance!”

Frank chuckled as he straightened. “Team 2 seems to know what it’s doing.”

Before Steve could remark that they had better know, since he had trained them, he saw a small catamaran coming into view around Diamond Head.

“Who is that jerk?” he asked aloud. “Can’t he see what’s going on out there?” As the catamaran drew closer, Steve recognized Kono. He motioned him to shore. Walking closer to the water, he caught the mooring line and held it.

“What’s going on out there, Boss?” Kono asked.

“Duke’s arresting the crew of  Russian trawler. What is the idea, your sailing right into it?” Steve shot back with no mercy.

“Looked interesting,” Ben replied when Kono did not.

As Steve clenched his fists and struggled to regain control of his temper, Frank spoke.

“Careful, Steve. Governor Jameson might run for re-election, which would mean you serve for another four years.”

“I could live with that,” Steve admitted. “Kono, on the other hand, might not.”

“They’re three miles out!” Kono exclaimed.

“That cutter can fire a round farther than that!” Steve told him.

“But they’re not aiming at me.”

“It’s your neck. Just be at work on time in the morning,” Steve shot back. Taking Kela’s leash, he turned and continued his jog.

“What’s eating him?” Kono asked Frank Okawa.

“He’s not managing the situation,” Frank replied.