Those two tall and skinny gray towers, planted alone in the narrow ahupuaa of Manana, rising high above Pearl City’s suburban expanse. You know the ones.
Strange and astray like aliens when I first laid eyes on them in 1984. But, then again, they looked exactly like a building type popping up all over in Honolulu at the time. Maybe they were refugees. I worried these uglies were harbingers of some grim future for the rest of Oahu.
Two stacks of 43 floors, of stacked households, far from the city out on Kam Highway. But then I got used to them, and when they didn’t reproduce but remained singular and anomalous, they became just another Honolulu idiosyncrasy, like Salt Lake’s bleak landscape or that sidewalk-free tract in Moiliili — the permanent remains of one more sleazy, land-and-power episode in the ongoing construction of Oahu.