Moon the milkman

His route included the neighborhoods of Honolulu, more specifically, the places of Kapalama and the deeply forested roads of Nu'uanu at the base of what is now called Old Pali Road. Moon Amona delivered milk from door to door during the years when local island dairies produced millions of gallons of cow's milk a day. He was twenty years old when he got his first truck, thirty-three when he and his wife hanai the girl Beatrix, named for the creator of Peter Rabbit and sixty-two when Beatrix Moe-moelaukahi returned to Aupuni Street to bury him

If it weren't for the milk route in old Nu'uanu Valley Moon Amona might never have read the little book written about a mischievous rabbit. But. As with any good story, Moon Amona was destined. In so many ways, the young milk man and son of a clarinet player in the breakaway loyalist band Bana Lahui Hawaii was fated for discoveries that would unfold slowly, oh so very slowly.

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"Did you know what an activist Beatrix Potter was, Uncle Moon? And how long she was willing to wait for justice."  By now the music of voices from the living room had quieted. Laughter replaced the melodies, and it was Leslie who whistled. She was calling for the lei needles. Crook had resumed his lap position in the soft folds of Beatrix's linen jumper. The blonde seemed to be keen and attentive to the overlapping stories. He waited for Uncle Moon to answer.

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