R.I.P. Two-dogs

Karissa and I were lucky to meet a local guy in our first week on the Big Island, and ran into him literally every day for the better part of the next month and a half. Gary Poretsky, known by his friends as Gary Two-dogs (not to be confused with the other Gary, Gary No-dogs), had been on the island for most of his life... and what a life he'd lived. Sailing from island to island, until he'd settled on the Big Island, he'd bought a parcel of land out at Sea View before they'd even had running water out there (Sea View is now one of the nicer places to live on the east side of the island, complete with electricity and county water). Always quick with a story, a joke, and a laugh that literally filled whole rooms, loud and full of bass, Gary was something rare, raised in a Jewish family, he was a born-again Christian who held to the belief of love.

The last time Karissa and I saw Gary was the day before he was leaving for Thailand. The week before he'd been complaining to us about a major toothache, which just kept getting worse... eventually leading to him going to a dentist in Hilo and being told that he'd need an entire tooth removed, another two heavily drilled, and oral surgery that would have cost him more then most Hawaiians make in a year. For the population on the west coast that lacks dental insurance (which is the majority in Hawaii), Thailand is considered the safest option. Bangkok and Chiang Mai have western trained and equipped doctors of all sorts... except with the current exchange rate and the lack of back-breaking insurance costs, they can operate in a fee range that's viable, while being infinitely safer then the Mexican option...

While traveling in Chiang Mai after his surgery, Gary was shot three times at a bar by a mentally unstable Australian man. He died before reaching the hospital... and I can only pray that he felt no pain.

The Puna population will miss Gary, his funeral service is expected to overflow wherever it is, as he was loved by both sides of the heated debate between natives and locals. We didn't get a chance to meet his mother before we left the island, but we did meet up with a number of Gary's friends for a candle-light vigil on the Sea View lawn. His mother passed on word through Uncle Manu that she was bringing his ashes back and that Gary would be buried or scattered on the island he'd adopted and loved.

Even though I would probably have never seen Gary again after this trip, having someone so caring and who lived So well taken from this world is a tragedy, and I'm sorry no one will ever hear him explain what makes someone a Haole, or the stories of the Island's creation, or the plight of the native children...

I ka 'ôlelo no ke ola, i ka 'ôlelo no ka make.

In the language or word is life, in the language or word is death.