Monday, September 27, 2004
Nice or Crazy?
By D. Robert
I have an uncle who is known throughout his hometown as the legendary Candyman. No, this isn't the spooky legend depicted in the mid-90's b-film that took place in Chicago's Cabrini Green projects. He's the real live, really nice legend of Hilo, Hawai'i who decided several years ago (we're talking decades, really) to start carrying a bag of Braches, by-the-pound hard candies with him around town and pass them out to friends old and new -- for no reason at all.
Going into Longs Drugs to pick-up some saline solution? There he is, passing out candy. Getting your morning coffee at Mickey D's? There he is, passing out candy. Getting your haircut? Yup, you get the picture. Can we say omnipresent? Omnipotent, perhaps? He's all over town, all day, everyday. He did it wearing polyester slacks in the 70's, cotton Dockers in the 80's and 90's, and most probably a trusty pair of Depends at present. With a smile and a heartfelt, "Have one good one," he moves from hand to hand, passing out Braches absent any vanity, shame, and selfish intent; really, just doing it just to do it. Almost like the awe that is inspired by the sun’s daily rising and setting and the coming and going of the seasons, the Candyman’s steady presence brings a sense of joy and an eternal sense of goodness to those sweet toothed citizens of Hilo.
No one in the family knows exactly why uncle does this. Ask him, and he'd look right through you, like the question was never posed. It's just something that happens. That’s it. Some in the family think he’s crazy; and some hate the fact that they are related to the Candyman. But others of us see what really is the most important part of the story: Selfless acts, in any form, are wonderful and beautiful. Period.
I have an uncle who is known throughout his hometown as the legendary Candyman. No, this isn't the spooky legend depicted in the mid-90's b-film that took place in Chicago's Cabrini Green projects. He's the real live, really nice legend of Hilo, Hawai'i who decided several years ago (we're talking decades, really) to start carrying a bag of Braches, by-the-pound hard candies with him around town and pass them out to friends old and new -- for no reason at all.
Going into Longs Drugs to pick-up some saline solution? There he is, passing out candy. Getting your morning coffee at Mickey D's? There he is, passing out candy. Getting your haircut? Yup, you get the picture. Can we say omnipresent? Omnipotent, perhaps? He's all over town, all day, everyday. He did it wearing polyester slacks in the 70's, cotton Dockers in the 80's and 90's, and most probably a trusty pair of Depends at present. With a smile and a heartfelt, "Have one good one," he moves from hand to hand, passing out Braches absent any vanity, shame, and selfish intent; really, just doing it just to do it. Almost like the awe that is inspired by the sun’s daily rising and setting and the coming and going of the seasons, the Candyman’s steady presence brings a sense of joy and an eternal sense of goodness to those sweet toothed citizens of Hilo.
No one in the family knows exactly why uncle does this. Ask him, and he'd look right through you, like the question was never posed. It's just something that happens. That’s it. Some in the family think he’s crazy; and some hate the fact that they are related to the Candyman. But others of us see what really is the most important part of the story: Selfless acts, in any form, are wonderful and beautiful. Period.
