Growing up in the Filipino camp of Aiea we were privy to many things. Our family knew everyone ... every Filipino that is. We weren't rich but our family made every effort to enjoy Hawaii (America) as much as possible. It seems that every time someone would visit from the mainland or the Philippines we were the host family. We would pack up a picnic and make trips "around the island". The most fun times were taking guests to Waikiki to see the shows at night.
One of my most fond memories was what we did after we went holo holo downtown. Almost every Saturday night we would head out to the "Civic Center" to watch professional wrestling with family and friends.
The dark hallways, the noisy bathrooms, gummy floors and the microphone slowly making it's way down from the ceiling to the announcer, (was it Ed Francis?) all made for a great evening. The wrestling was fun and everyone got into it even "Ikit", the aunties. Us kids just loved it. The show lasted about an hour and a half. It was all "good fun" as mom used to say.
Although we were having a great time my mind was really thinking of something else. I could just taste it. It was warm and sweet. It smelled really good and it was making me smile. I couldn't wait for the fights to end so that we could get that Saturday night snack.
When the fights were finally over, we all jumped into the station wagon. Dad would turn around and asked if everybody had a good time, we'd all yell "YES" and he'd drive off. The older folks would be talking about the fight and who beat who and who should have won. Us kids would be "make believe" wrestling in the back.
Soon dad would pull over to the curb and mom would look in her purse for a few dollars. An older cousin would get out, mom would hand him the money and he'd run across the street. We'd sit across the street right by Farrington High School and talk story till he got back. In a few minutes he would jump back in, holding "da goodies". Soon we were headed home. The car would smell really nice and we couldn't wait to get into the house.
Once we got into the house everyone would run into the "pala" and sit around the small table. Mom would come in with a dish of butter, place it on the table along with the package that we had just brought home.We'd pass the napkins and dig into the bag.
Boy, what a treat! HOT BREAD from Liberty Bakery. We'd break a piece off from the whole loaf and pile on the butter. The bread was warm, buttery and sweet.
What a great way to end the night. This was the best bread in town, at midnight anyway. We stayed up till the bread was all gone then go off to bed. Yeah, that bread was good. Breaking into a whole hot loaf was fun. I hope this brings back some fond memories to those that had the "BREAD" from Liberty Bakery in Kalihi. It was long ago but I still can remember when we used to go ... holo holo after "da fights."
About Author
Gary "Iggy" Ignacio grew up in Aiea, Oahu in a "Filipino Camp". He attended St. Louis High School ('79). He has many memories about growing up on the Leeward side of the Island. He recalls picking up bitter melons in the pineapple fields, gathering limu at Ewa Beach, going to the small Japanese store by his house and more. In 1986 he opened "Iggy's Hawaiian Café and Catering" in Orange County, California. He soon discovered that catering is "mo ee zee". "Iggy's" now caters the "ALOHA" spirit in central and southern California and the Dallas/Fort Worth area. What is he doing now? "Living by the beach and being a Waikiki beach boy in Ventura, California" is his answer!
