To state the obvious, this summer has been weeping-level catastrophic as wildfires devastate and even obliterate. There are almost no words. (Well, some climate activists might have a few; “I told you so,” for instance.)
But we look for words in dark times. This is what feeling humans do, as many of us try to process losses beyond what we, lucky us, have experienced or witnessed in our own lifetimes. The losses, in this case, are singed with warning: the fires could be coming for us.
When the utter devastation on Maui and the complete destruction of the town of Lahaina became clear, countless people who had visited went on social media to share nostalgic posts about their own experiences there: Photos of younger selves embraced by the branches of Lahaina’s famous banyan tree, families posing in front of Hawaiian sunsets, memories of Cheeseburger In Paradise, Fleetwood’s on Front Street, a cold shaved ice on a very hot day. Words of sorrow for a place that is now essentially gone.
The destruction is almost unimaginable – unless, perhaps you were a resident of Lytton, B.C., or Paradise, California. Or you live in places where active wildfires nearby have led you to do all sorts of horrifying imagining this summer.
The photos of post-fire Lahaina are apocalyptic in shades of grey. Online, they are often displayed in contrast with colourful before-shots of a beautiful beach town with intact buildings.
While doomscrolling in the truest sense of the word, I also came across a post warning the world’s tourists that now was not the time to be lamenting the loss of this travellers’ paradise, or to share memories of their trips there. Do not take up space with your worthless fly-by nostalgia, they said. And of course, Lahaina’s loss is on a completely different level – a different planet – for residents.
The death toll is already high. It’s going to get higher. The historical and cultural loss is also immense. Lahaina was once the royal capital of the Hawaiian Kingdom. Many artifacts in its heritage museum are sure to have been destroyed.
But memories made there should not be dismissed, nor should the people who want to share them be shamed. People loved Maui so much they went again and again, or visited once, on a dream vacation made possible by scrimping and saving. And we can honour that so many of Lahaina’s roughly 13,000 people generously put out a welcome mat for the world.
As the news of the destruction made it to my phone last week, I shared it with the people around me. Many immediately wanted to know about the town’s iconic sprawling banyan tree, planted in 1873 to commemorate the anniversary of the arrival of Christian missionaries. It remains standing, scorched, its future uncertain. But oh, those branches have stories to tell.
How many couples got engaged under that tree? How many children have played in its shade, or among its magical branches, maybe hoisted up to them on a grown-up’s shoulders?
You’ve probably seen a lot of those kinds of photos lately.
Think about the pictures that filled your albums before our phones became our cameras – and even those taking up space on your devices now. How many were snapped on vacation? If you are among the fortunate who can take these sorts of trips, this is when families and friends come together, bond and laugh (and annoy each other, sure). So many memories are made at hotel pools and museums, or over restaurant discoveries and card games.
We travel for all sorts of reasons, including getting away from our lives and everyday concerns. But it’s also in pursuit of connection – with our companions, and with other people and places.
Lahaina was – is – a spiritual place. A visit there wasn’t just about a tiki-bar cheeseburger or a cold beer with ties to Fleetwood Mac.
When something calamitous happens to a place we have visited, our empathy is activated on a deeper level. We can picture the road that those cars were stuck on, the ocean water that people ran into to save their lives. We remember the people we met. We worry about them.
Canadian music producer Bob Rock, who lives on Maui, had his own brush with the fires last week. Over the years, Mr. Rock has recorded a long list of artists at his Maui studio. When the island burned, they reached out to him. “All the people I’ve brought to Maui to record, every one of them, were incredibly upset because they love working here and being here,” he told me over the phone. “When you come to Maui and stay here for a bit, you realize what a special place it is.”
That is worth something. Words in dark times can help connect the world and bring a bit of light.