My father, a soldier, was ordered to move again. It came as a 1 because we had just moved into the present duty station a few weeks before.
It was the fourth time we'd got to move to a 2 place in just two years, which was truly our "home" in Hawaii that we'd only 3 through my father's music with ukulele (尤克里里).4 was the thing that connected my father with Hawaii, a reminder of his home and5.
Everything was 6 this time. We were just arriving, but he was already 7to leave again without us. Our father, the person who could make us 8 the "new" family, was gone. Suddenly, we were surrounded by cousins who 9 knowing each other, joining in a cultural 10 of which we only knew the surface. We were 11 in the family.
One day, I 12 my father's ukulele that I had watched him play was 13 in the corner. When I tried to play it, though unskillfully, I felt closer to him and our Hawaiian roots. Then I picked up an old song book, and 14 myself to play. I would play and sing, 15 my father had been here. Finally my father16with a newly-bought ukulele, and we had a mini concert. He was17 that I had learned so much.
What I really 18 was that music has the 19 to do truly extraordinary things20 us with our culture and each other, our past and our present.
