Sometimes a dream house can take the form of a rental

"I think I want to move back to Palolo," my husband said, unfolding the morning newspaper.

I had just mentioned that our friends/former landlords could be looking for new tenants. They own a rental on Wai'oma'o stream. We had rented from them for eight years before buying and moving into our current home.

"Why on earth would you want to rent again?" I asked.

My husband smoothed the crinkles on the front section of the paper and fixed his eyes on me.

"I want to be able to call Charlie when my plumbing needs to be fixed, or the skylight in my living room is leaking, or my storage shed needs to be expanded," he said. "It really gets old having to do it yourself."

In early Hawai'i, houses were constructed of natural materials.

The steps involved in the actual building of the hale or house involved the entire village; the householder, his 'ohana, neighbors and friends.

"The processes (of building a house) were too well known to require the services of an expert," writes Donald Kilolani Mitchell in "Resource Units in Hawaiian Culture," "... except possibly the closing of the thatch over the ridgepole, which prevented leaks."

The actual repair and maintenance of the hale was relatively simple.

An early explorer noted that "...when (Hawaiians) wanted light, they made a hole in the wall and closed it again when they had done with it."

Sometimes I wish it were that easy to keep up our own home.

For example, take the crack in the tub. It started off as a thin, hairline fracture. I thought it was a strand of hair that hadn't made its way down the drain.

But then the nearly invisible one-inch thread began to grow, taking on a shape of its own that now looks like the outline of Pu'uloa or Pearl Harbor.

For the past month, my husband has been "assessing" the situation and "discussing" how he plans to repair the tub.

Meanwhile, the crack continues to expand and lengthen, forming yet another contour, resembling the north end's rugged Ka'ena coastline.

I feel very blessed that we are able to own our own home. But with that kuleana (responsibility) comes the upkeep.

There are so many things that need to be fixed that I was embarrassed when a representative from the Board of Water Supply visited us. He pulled into our driveway peered over his reading glasses, scrutinized our home and asked me, "What, rental unit?"

I wasn't sure if it was the chipped paint on the eaves or the shredded newspaper littering the yard that gave him the idea that we were renters.

"Uh, no," I muttered meekly. "We own it."

If you are in the market to buy a home, reconsider. Renting has its advantages.

"Renting in Palolo were perhaps the happiest days of my life," my husband reminisced. "Charlie was the handyman of my dreams."