My dad's family and friends wandered around tidepools at Maka-pu'u Beach, Hawaii in 1991 debating over where
to spread his ashes. His closest friend, Cyrus Faryar said it all when he remarked, "We could really use someone like Dave
right now." I realized then that Cyrus knew him well. Outspoken yet trusted and rarely one to fail,
Dad seldom lost an arguement. At my last hospital visit with him he described his younger self as being hyperactive.
Despite his success and the smugness it implied, he still seemed to seek people's approval by sharing the knowledge
from his steel-trap memory. I was touching to see him in the role of a carried-away conversationalist at a party.
Dad would often roam around the house improvising lines like the one I wrote for the song, "Awake and alone and
alive ..." It seemed an appropriate sentiment for one who has gone through another trying endeaver. In my case,
it was his early passing. Another line, "still you would put yourself first after years of denying the worst" is a reflection
on his only child persona. I never had a brother so it was good to have him as a friend and I hope he felt the same having never
had a sibling. He once told me, " It's funny our birthdays are exactly six months apart, but we seem to get along fine."
The title came from a thank-you letter a kid had sent him after a talk he gave on his book, the Hawaiin Legend of Hale Mano.
The third grader's letter included a drawing of Dad sitting on a desk speaking to a classroom of kids. It came at a very healing time
that followed a rocky period in his life that I shared a large part in.
Dad told me salesmen, with phonebook in hand, would often call and begin with , "Hi Don ..." Dave was actually his middle
name and Donald, his first. He always knew when it wasn't a dear old friend touching base. So I made the play on words with that
fond memory in mind; "How can each day begin without you Mr. Dawn?"
This is my oldest song. At seventeen I loved John McGlaughlin's work so I composed a similar chord progression to some of his
songs and put it to a friend's poem. Often Dad would interupt my playing to share a word of advice; A frustrating but useful thing.
I was playing it once and he gave me a, " sounds good!" I knew a song was worth pursuing. After years of lyric and
arrangement revisions I recorded it with Peter Rubbo on drums. I'd asked George to drum it but he had no time so it's fortunate
the cards fell that way because the song is, like Peter, on the jazzy side.
It was an honor to have my kids sing on the song. They were born shortly after his passing but they
have a good idea of who he is by hearing his songs and my stories. My daughter, Tara was born five days shy of his birthday only seven
months after his death. She shares his grace and insightful intellect so I'm sure it's him visiting in a new form. I'm told Aloha serves as
hello and goodbye in Hawaii so, "Aloha Mr. Guard"
The voices in my head were saying, "What about that 'song-a-week' you promised?" I grabbed the twelve string
and soon a verse, chorus and bridge came along. Finally I'd found a key that was great vocally as well. Mama San,
my grandmother who died in 2007, lived most of her ninety-five years in Hawaii. Papa San died in 1970 and she lived
in a beautiful valley near Honolulu since then on her own. Despite a lot of incidents that would point to chosing a rest
home, she chose to stay there and be independent. She was truly smart and strong enough to succeed and she did just
that. Taking Karen and our kids to visit her in 2004 an celebrate her ninety-second birthday was great. We remember
it well. She lived in a beautiful place. Mama San and I spent a lot of time on the phone. She was lucid as anyone and
equally a pleasure to talk to until the end.