It was a balmy evening on the Kona side when, on June thirteenth nineteen eighty nine, Tyler William Summers made his entrance into the atmosphere of planet earth. The delivery room chatter made reference to a certain part of his anatomy which to some of the nurses seemed well, eye popping. Nice package, murmured one of the interns, waggling his eyebrows. His mom was an Ex with benefits, which always came at a price. In the salad days, we'd meet at one of the posh kona coast hotels and did our imitation of happy to be parenting. In reality, most of the time it was. Hint: small doses, mini bar. On June 20th 1989, I held the little buggah in my hands which rested on the top of my thighs. Seven days old. Contact. Eyes, hands on body and in great measure, the scent. If they could make bread that smells like babies we'd all be walking around in an oxytocin bondathon. While his mom and I were pretty much over, I would go to the Big usually once a month to hang out with them for a weekend. She was all for it, and happy to have Ty bonding with a guy outside her usual circle ( his dad was a ship passing in the night, post rock concert). She would alternate and come to Maui with him once a month and we'd hang out and do fun farm shit while getting him addicted to Lego's and first person shooters. He and I didn't get to hang out a lot, but it was consistent and cherished for the very need to make the most of it. As he grew and became verbal his associations with things and places got more acute. Most times i'd stay in town at the Kona Hilton. After awhile if his mom drove into town and passed by the hotel, Ty would cry out, "Johns house, lets go see John." When he finally turned five, he could board a plane all by his little self. And there I'd be, waiting on the other end. Reliability was not a real strong suit in his home life so this ritual of picking up and dropping off became our mantra. Our recognition of the fact that, by hook or by crook, this relationship would not be challenged for its validity or its longevity even though neither of us had anything to say about it. And so it went for many years. By the time he was ten, he had a sister and brother, each five years apart. Each from a different father. Modern life. He would usually get to spend the better part of a week or two with me over the summer. I figured that ten would be a good age to start hiking the crater, so I secured the Kapalaoa cabin and dragged his little butt down and out the gap in a little over 24 hours. I indulged him in the "whine/give in/whine/give in" ritual and ended up carrying his pack most of the way down the ranch. Amazing how much energy he seemed to muster as soon as I took the pack from him. We tried and mostly succeeded in making it through at least once a year always adding Paliku cabin to the roster. Now on the hike through when he was eleven, I can remember trying to call his mom as we were hiking out the gap just to check in and let her know her boy was in top shape.  Couldn't get through and it wasn't the usual answering machine. Passing strange. Didn't think much of it until we got home and i retrieved a message from the mom letting us know that their house had burned to the ground and could I call as soon as I got this message. Which I did. Bummer soup. While she got things sorted out over there, Ty got to hang with me. When the dust settled, sorting out meant the mom and kids moving to Alabama where sister and mother live. Ty got to stay the summer with me while his mom got situated. That was the only positive outcome. After the summer we did our best imitation of pleading for his being able live with me, but NOOoooooooo. It's off to the land of barbeque and honey tongue. The years kept ticking by with him coming for summer break, or most of it and me travelling back a couple of times a year to see him in Alabama or fly him up to Chicago when I'd go visit the father unit. For us, the distances had increased but this is the way we had always rolled. Economy class jet setters. Drove a pickup truck that I'd gotten at a cane company sale and I began to mark time in it by the way Ty would nod out on the ride to the airport and fall out next to me on the seat, then when he got bigger he'd have to curl his legs a bit to fit, then he'd have to put his head in my lap to fit, then that just got to be too gay, so he stopped nodding and we'd talk chicks and such on the ride down. He's been back and forth for years getting life sorted out and has spent the past four years at the rancho planting some roots. He is after all, keiki o'ka aina. This marks the twenty fifth year of our connection and as a whole I can hardly imagine one more worthwhile. He will soon be somebody's neighbor on Maui as he prepares to find a place to live so that the mother ship has the house to herself with a spare room for crossword puzzle marathons. He is bright, he is funny, he is useful, he is hopeless, he knows everything and is well worth knowing. He's the Knucklehead. Love you man.   o