We all heard the news in the usual way...from Sand Tiki, who read it on the Internet.

The Man, the Legend, someone who almost single handedly made Hawaiian bars something to flock to was always open to our friendship. Mr Don, as we all knew him, used to let us all sneak in a back entrance at the Hilton Hawaiian Village in Waikiki when we were still in high school, back in our Oahu days. We thought he appreciated a few rascals after spending so much time with the Vegas crowd, and so there we were, backstage, sipping house Mai Tais.

Ah, back in the day. After stumbling out of the service entrance, and wandering to the beach to swim off our buzz, we would barefoot it down the beach to the Outrigger, where Mr. Don would sometimes do a cameo at the microphone. The beach bar there was never lacking in action, of all types. The beach boys who had invested hours reinforcing the rich white tourist girl's dreams of adventure were decked out in white shorts and silk aloha shirts, ready to seal the deal. Mixed into that bunch were the slightly intoxicated military boys from Pearl Harbor living their Hawaiian dreams too, but the tourist girls all wanted a brown boy, so they usually left empty handed. Then, there were the likes of us. Underage, surfed out, sunburn, sand still stuck in our bleached out hair. Mr. Don always nodded to us, outside the open windows, seemingly full of flash backs to our wild times himself.

We were all rock and roll though, and when he sang that old Kui Lee ballad, "I'll Remember You", we began our slow march back to old, borrowed cars, in the wet sand.

Today, though, on the Day Don Ho Died, we ordered up our own particular specials and drank them silently, listening to "I'll Remember You", and wondering if it is really possible to die with a smile.

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