KAPAI: Simple things offer sweetest moments

SOMETIMES the simple things in life give us the sweetest moments, and we don't need amplified bling-bling or big-time bells and whistles to get a message from a song. Sometimes the song in its simplicity can carry the magic of the moment, especially when the song is Somewhere Over the Rainbow, sung by the gentle giant known as Israel Kamakawiwo.
Now this fulla really was a big boy before he died, or as our Aunty from over the hill says, "a full house", and the day he left the house for the last time was July 4, 1997, or Thanksgiving Day in his hometown of Hawaii. And ever since, this full-house fulla has been giving thanks to many millions with his dreamtime rainbow promise, served up with a simple side salad of a softly-strummed ukulele.
I heard the one-man ukulele orchestra sing the rainbow song at my mate's mother's tangi last week, and it made me appreciate once again how the sweetest memories in life come from the soft serenade of a simple song. If ever there was a perfect time for a brand-new bike to be pedaled across the Matapihi Bridge to carry her home it was then. And it did - with a little help from her friends and JC.
And there were more simple songs on the menu a few days later at my brother's wedding, where once again the song remained the same as it did for Robert Plant a few days earlier, and there was no need for bling-bling or bells and whistles to make the moment memorable. In fact if the wedding invite had said "no booze, no boil-up and no electric puha", as was the case on Saturday, a few of the whanau would have said "No Way!"
It really was the metaphysical mystical Maori boy marrying his card-carrying Catholic sweetheart with whanau and friends from all four corners of the planet. There were more colorful costumes than a Bali climate control conference, with the sari being the gown of choice.
But the raw reality was a wedding for all the right reasons, not the pre-meditated promise of post-match medication as the prime motivator for showing up. Just who made up this rule for socialising with strangers and when, I wonder? Maybe it was Liza Minnelli? How conditioned we have become to booze being the great Gatsby of good times and the false belief that we need it to make a magic moment more memorable.
For my two bob's worth, this wedding without the wine and Waikato was a winner, and even the staunchest of steak eaters and grog-guzzlers would have had a good time, especially the next morning when there wasn't a hangover to be found for breakfast.
And as our kaumatua said during the whaikorero (speeches): "This wonderful wedding couldn't have come at a better time."
I guess we all knew we were in need of a celebration as there had been too much sadness with too many tangi in Tauranga Moana lately. And too many moments of madness on too many innocent tamariki and all the wrong refs telling all the wrong coaches how to win a world cup. (But then again, I don't think any coach from any country could have won against that sin-binning forked-tongue ref.)
And just like the four strings of a simply-strummed ukulele in a moment of reflective sadness, we didn't need a band of men with 10 guitars to make the moment memorable.
There was no need to force-feed fun with flash feeds and five-star surroundings because I doubt if any of my brother's wedding guests would have ever sampled a five-star marae before.
So it really was a simple week where simple moments of straight-talking truth carried the day - both in sadness and celebration. It started with a big man and a little ukulele looking for life's rainbow, and ended with a dream coming true for two people in love, who found their pot of gold in each other.
"Somewhere over the rainbow, blue birds fly, and the dreams that you dreamed of, dreams really do come true ... "
Pai marire tommykapai@gmail.com