“Hello,” she said.
Three hundred fishermen looked up at her. They were Hawaiian, Japanese, Samoan, Philipino, and Chinese, and they spoke many different languages, though generally not English. She was here promoting a blood drive for the blood bank.
This was Adrienne, when she was very young, but already with a girl-child and a toddler at home.
Up on the scaffolding above the boats, she spoke into the microphone, her voice booming around the dock buildings, and the men shifted and fidgeted. They had no idea what she said. They were anxious to put to sea. She spoke of how their contribution would save lives, and how important it was.
The trade wind picked up. Her pretty skirt began to whip around her legs. She tried to hold the fluttering skirt down as she spoke, and she had to speak bent over into the microphone.
The fishermen watched, impassive.
The talk was over. There was a scattering of applause, and then the crews made ready the boats, and with horns and churning waters the boats put out to sea. She watched them go.
The Teamsters clerk thanked her. She left.
The next week, at the blood drive, the hall was packed. The blood bank had to bring in some special beds, because the Samoans were very, very large. Adrienne discovered that all 300 fishermen had signed up.
Just another day in paradise.
