OED's Glue

Carol worked at Kauaʻi Surf as a cashier for 38 years, retiring right before Hurricane Iniki. Theri’s father, Alfonso Martin, worked there as a maintenance man and it took a while before Carol succumbed to his stubborn advances. They were married for 53 years, before she passed.

Theri’s maternal grandparents worked at McBryde Sugar Plantation. Her mom is the oldest of five kids. Their house was always filled with children from the plantation. Her grandfather was the brakeman on the train and an avid fisherman. Alfonso’s parents came here from Spain and passed before Theri was born.

She grew up in Kalaheo and went to Holy Cross Catholic School through eighth grade, then attended Waimea High School. She was a professional hula dancer and even confessed to wanting to be just like singer, dancer and current OED Director Nalani Brun, when she grew up.

She began her dancing with Aunty Kapu Kinimaka-Alquiza, whom she worked and traveled with for 19 years. After school, she’d rush home, do her homework, grab her hula outfit and go off to work at the Westin, which is now The Royal Sonesta. Then, she’d head over to Smith’s Paradise Lūʻau, where she eventually became the alakaʻi—the person in charge of scheduling dancers.

In her senior year of high school, she’d leave class around 11:30 a.m. to take college courses at KCC. She started working at Thom McCan in the mall from ’91 to ’93, until she got pregnant.

Theri had to go to Kapiʻolani Medical Center on Oʻahu, where her daughter was born prematurely and needed to stay for a month. To hear her talk about this little one, Destiny, and her impact was extremely touching. Theri grew up with a loving mom and an aloof, very mean-spirited father. She did not want that experience for her little girl, so she was determined to flood her with love.

At the beginning of this, I told you Theri had a story I felt compelled to share. As I listened to it unfold, we both cried. I am not the first person to say we often marry our parent—for better or worse—and all too often, it’s the latter.

Several years after her daughter was born, they married. It did not take long for the abuse to begin, a story repeated too many times. During this period, the family moved into her grandmother’s home at McBryde Camp, because of her failing health which required Theri’s care.

Her own dad was a nasty man and now, here she was reliving it. She did not want to be one of those women, who become a statistic, with an incredible conflict that invariably has a lousy outcome.

In 2001, she became pregnant and gave birth to her son, Dylan. As she was describing this part of her life, I could feel a kind of growing strength in her tone and demeanor. She was determined that this little boy would break the chain of violence that victimized her twice in her life. This was the beginning of her redemption—an unstoppable, emotional freight train. It did not come easily, though. Not even close.

Her grandma passed away in ’97 and she moved back to Kalaheo with her parents, in a separate home on the land. During this time, Theri was attending KCC and ended up getting a BA in business management.

After graduation, she got a job at the school’s Job Training Center. In 2000, they lost their funding and she began working at The Embassy Vacation Resort, working her way up to Executive Assistant Manager. There, she befriended Michelle Rego. They’ve been buddies ever since and are now co-workers at OED. She was there until 2008, when it was sold to Diamond Resorts and became The Point at Poʻipū.

Sometime after her last move back to Kalaheo, she got a call from her dad, saying her husband was in the process of stripping their home of most of their belongings. She rushed home to find an empty house. Stop and try to imagine what that must have felt like—helpless and panicked. Well, she gets a call from this guy, who says he no longer wants to be married or to be a father. Very often, strength of character comes with a heavy price and Theri paid.

Any further details of the dissolution are best left out. I feel incredibly privileged for her having so openly and honestly shared this part of her life with me. Fortunately, a mother’s love is like a superpower and her children became her warrior’s armor. It just gets better from here.

From 2011 to 2013, she worked for Dow AgroScience as the public information officer—right in the middle of the blowup regarding GMO’s impact on the island. In this role, she ended up at a demonstration at the County Building, where she met George Costa, who she worked under at the Embassy and was now running OED. Shortly after, she got a call from Mayor Bernard Carvalho, who offered her a job as an administrative assistant at OED. This was in 2013 and Theri has been here ever since.  

Of all the people there, her position is the hardest to define. She is a critical part of the OED operation. As the office manager, she works with nearly every specialist on their respective projects, kind of like the departmental glue. Recently, she also took on the role of accountant, overseeing the allocation of a percentage of the tipping fees from the Kekaha landfill to local community organizations.

Needless to say, after the painful implosion of her marriage, a guy was the last thing on her mind. A very close friend of hers from childhood began bugging her to start dating again. The friend worked at Puhi Metals, that was then known as Abe’s Automotive Recycling. It was owned by the Haumea family from Oʻahu, including Travis, who came here to run the business. One day in 2007, Theri gets a call from her good friend, asking her to pick up something at her house. She went over and there is Travis, with her friend mischievously giggling in the background.

Travis asked her to lunch and she said no. After repeated turn downs, she eventually called him about getting together. Travis wasn’t able to do lunch because of work, so he suggested The Bull Shed for dinner, and she reluctantly agreed. Her description of the evening is how so many beautiful love stories are first born, in spite of her well-earned reticence.

After a few months. Travis gets to meet the kids and they slowly start behaving more and more like a family. At the time, Destiny was 13 and Dylan was 5. In 2010, their daughter, Brooklynn, is born. 

A year later, Destiny is off to college at Colorado Mesa University. The family takes her to school and then heads to Vegas. On their drive, Travis proposes to her and she feels surprisingly open to the idea. They go to a wedding chapel at the very top of the Luxor, where Travis had already made arrangements, and get married. They have now been together for about 18 years.

Outside the office, she handles the books for Haumea Trucking & Equipment Services. On weekends, she and her family go up to their 380-acre ranch, called Blue Mountain Ranch, where they have roughly 100 head of cattle. Most of the time, these go to her cousin at Andrade’s Slaughterhouse for processing to be distributed throughout the island.

I asked for Theri’s permission to share this next part regarding the death of her first husband. To me, this completes the arc of her story to this point, a testament about a life of redemption, love and forgiveness.

She describes her first reaction at the funeral as a bittersweet moment of compassion for a person, who lost his life at a relatively young age. Then, all the unanswered questions arose within as to why he did all those things to her and her family. Then, the unresolved anger that found her heart was finally put to rest. She walked up to the coffin and forgave him—not so much because he deserved forgiveness, but because she could now own the peace she deserved.

We agreed to close this story with contact information for the YWCA Domestic Violence and Sexual Assault Services. Those seeking help can talk to someone through their 24-hour hotline at (808) 245-6362 or www.ywcakauai.org/chat.