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Gramma had told me about April Fool's Day in 1946. That was before the civil defense sirens were installed, when news of danger came by way of Maui radio. "This is the real McCoy," the newsman reported as waves swept through Hilo. The water in our harbor receded—it was as if God had pulled a plug out of the bottom of the ocean. The reef appeared and the channel between Moloka'i and Maui became a valley of sand. "Crabs runnin' and ulua floppin'," Gramma'd said, "and fullas runnin' to get um." Gramma and Chipper had the beach house and a cottage. Chipper freed the horses while she drove her truck east to warn her friend Sarah Naki. She stopped to free a white stallion roped to a stake and spotted a blue mountain rolling off the ocean.

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