I've been meaning to write ...

It seems to me substantially unfair that a person could have a life like Jack Johnson has. But at least it seems the life couldn’t have been given to a nicer guy. Consider: Can you really think of that many careers better than being a professional surfer? What about being a professional surfer who also makes surfing movies? It’s a pretty sweet gig if you can get it. Of course, the only real downside (and this is true of pretty much all athletic careers) is that sooner or later injury or age just get in the way. This was true for Jack Johnson, too – except that after he got hurt and had to take time off from surfing he started taking his music hobby more seriously and a few years later … he’s a fucking rock star. Maybe the only job that’s actually better than professional surfer.

But it wasn’t jealousy (at least not jealousy of his professions) that made me just a little sad at the JJ concert at the Dodge Friday night. I was just a little sad despite the unrepentantly positive vibes of all of JJ’s music (even his sad songs are hopeful). And it wasn’t having my dear, beautiful wife with me, which prevented me from standing up or singing a tiny bit louder (though I swear I wouldn’t have been dancing quite like our aisle friend, no matter who was or wasn’t with me). It was just that, in every way, JJ’s music evokes Hawaii, and months after returning home and getting back to normal life, I still can’t get Hawaii out of my mind.

I first discovered JJ opening for Ben Harper at a show two summers ago. I didn’t then know his story and he didn’t then have a slide show of very island-y images behind him – but I was still instantly made to think of Hawaii. In the same way, Bob Marley can make anyone (even if, like me, you;’ve never been there) of Jamaica … JJ just sounds and feels likes the islands.

So there were a lot of highlights for me Friday night, the aisle dancer notwithstanding. I didn’t expect to hear “Cookie Jar” for example, but was thrilled to. Closing with “Better Together” was perfect, and his cover of the Beatles’ “Two of Us” in duet with Matt Costa was wonderful. I liked the (mostly) solo encore, and the energetic end of the set with every song just blurring together. I liked the love songs (I was there with Diana, after all, and she was there only because I played JJ CDs so much on our honeymoon that she had no real choice but to give in and enjoy the music). I especially liked “Do You Remember?” which is a painfully sweet song to his wife that, while we were honeymooning, gave me pause to think of how Diana and I might remember this time in our lives ten years from now.

But what I remember most is, much fun as I had, much as I was able for a few moments to feel like I was back there – that twinge of sorrow that comes from knowing I would walk outside and be back in Phoenix, where the temperatures are frankly inhuman and the ocean seems like a rumor. A song like Taylor invokes the longing quite plainly, even the characters in the song are obsessed with the memory of that which is “about two thousand miles from here.” On the other hand are songs like Flake, with no explicit Hawaiian references, but with a hint of steel guitar – and we all know nothing sounds quite so tropical as a steel guitar – or Breakdown, which is played with a ukelele (the only thing that’s more island sounding than a steel guitar, actually) and reminds me so much of the cheesy Sugar Cane Train for kids that runs along side the highway near Kaanapaali.

I guess I’m just still amazed that this obsession has held on. I loved Hawaii the first two times I was lucky enough to visit – both of those trips were with my parents. No matter how great a place is, no matter how free you are to do your own thing – by the end of a week with one’s parents, you might understand I was ready to be anywhere so long as it was away from them. (And I love my parents.) The trip with Diana was so different. Sure, it benefited from all the typical illusions of vacation (and more, considering circumstances) – we were spending ridiculous amounts of money, had no responsibilities, etc. Still.

We both talked while there about the idea of living there. Not unusual, really. When visiting a place isn’t that always something that goes through your mind? When we got home, though, we were still talking about it. And then we didn’t talk about it so much, but I kept thinking about it. So did Diana – if her propensity for checking out multi-million dollar Maui homes is any indication. I never thought it would be me, but I realize now that among my life’s goals are being comfortable and wealthy enough to be able to live (at least part time) even if only when we are retired in Hawaii. And, moreover, that if there were a feasible way for us to live there now (and maybe if we could bring a few friends along – we would probably drop everything and start over “about two thousand miles from here.”