I was a young Army wife, on my way to our new posting. Through some happy quirk, the Army sent us to Hawaii, on the ocean liner Lurline. We sighted Diamond Head, and long before we docked, the scent of flowers and ferns reached the ship. Very soon I knew I never wanted to leave, and, except for short trips, I haven’t. I acquired some book learning in Hawaiian history and language. My son married into a large and interesting Hawaiian family. When my daughter-in-law dances for family occasions, the grace of her hula will break your heart. In due time a Hawaiian grandson arrived, but he likes judo more than hula. For all that, I remain a haole in the islands, part of a tidal wave that washed over them, and, in a little more than a century after Captain Cook’s arrival, consumed the sovereignty of the Hawaiian nation.

At noon on an overcast August day in 1898 there was a ceremony at Iolani Palace in downtown Honolulu. The Royal Hawaiian Band played the national anthem, “Hawaii Ponoi,” the Hawaiian flag was hauled down, and the band left. Then a U.S. military band played “The Star-Spangled Banner,” the American flag went up, and Hawaii was formally annexed as a territory of the United States. The deposed Queen Liliuokalani did not attend the ceremony, and neither did most native Hawaiians.

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