One of my fondest memories of Hawaii occurred a few years ago. As I set out from the Cathedral to watch the sunset along the North Shore, I sad to myself (I often talk to myself, and sometimes even out loud), "I should bring a sweatshirt." But, thinking I know better than myself, I said, "I won't need one; I'm in Hawaii."
I arrived at Lanikai Beach and sat down on the shore; I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. As the sun lowered slowly toward the water and the wind blew upon me, I found myself not just cold, but actually shivering; I was freezing (in Hawaii). I couldn't bear the thought, though, of pulling myself away before the sun actually set into the sea, so soon as it did I returned to my car.
When I started the ignition the external temperature display revealed the frigid temperature that made me really wish I had listened to myself: 74 degrees Fahrenheit. I knew then that I had become an Hawaiian.
Today I returned to the mainland and am now back in Springfield where it's cold indoors and hot outdoors (more on the return tomorrow, maybe) where I still start to feel a little chilly when the temperature hits about 72 (our humidity apparently makes difference).
I'm to say, though, that I'm not the only one who gets chilly in Hawaii. A few days ago I took a long stroll along Kailua Beach and was humored to see this house:
Notice the chimney.