Eddie would go …

If you’re one of the bazillions of people who uses the Google search engine, you will have noticed that often a “Google Doodle” replaces the standard Google logo to highlight someone or something. Today’s “doodle” marks the 73rd birthday of the late Eddie Aikau.

If you’re like me, I often have no idea who the person referenced in a Google Doodle is, but I do know the story, the “legend,” of Eddie Aikau.

Prior to 2003, when I made the commitment to move to Hawaii, I did my homework about the place and people that would be my new home (for a while). Aikau wasn’t in the reading I did about the history or culture of Hawaii, but something sparked my curiosity that would lead me to his name.

“Eddie would go” was the sentence I saw on a bumper sticker.

Then another bumper sticker, and another, and another …

And then occasionally I heard the phrase … “Eddie would go” someone would say.

Who was Eddie? Where would he go, and why?

While shopping one day, I happened to see a book on a shelf with the title, “Eddie Would Go,” with the sub-title of, “The Story of Eddie Aikau, Hawaiian Hero” (by Stuart Holmes Coleman, you can find the book on Amazon here). I added the book to my purchases and soon found myself lost in the amazing story that spawned the phrase, “Eddie would go.”

If you lived on the north shore of Oahu when Eddie did, he wouldn’t have stood out to you. He wasn’t famous, he

wasn’t a celebrity, he was “just” a lifeguard (the first ever hired for the north shore) and a surfer. Sounds very ordinary on the islands. Of course, he would have stood out to the more than 500 people he rescued from the shores along Oahu, and some began to take notice as he started winning some of the surf competitions.

But it’s Eddie’s last act that has moved minds and hearts to make the man a legend, which Wikipedia accurately summarizes:

“In 1978, the Polynesian Voyaging Society was seeking volunteers for a 30-day, 2,500-mile journey to follow the ancient route of the Polynesian migration between the Hawaiian and Tahitian island chains. Aikau joined the voyage as a crew member. The double-hulled voyaging canoe Hōkūleʻa left the Hawaiian islands on March 16, 1978. It developed a leak in one of its hulls and later capsized about twelve miles south of the island of Molokaʻi. In an attempt to get help, Aikau paddled toward Lānaʻi on his surfboard. Although the rest of the crew were later rescued by the U.S. Coast Guard Cutter Cape Corwin, Aikau’s body was never found. He removed his life jacket since it was hindering his paddling of the surfboard. The ensuing search for Aikau was the largest air-sea search in Hawaiian history.”

The book by Coleman I mentioned earlier provides more details, but in the midst of the crisis, when the voyaging canoe had capsized, Aikau considered himself (being a “waterman”) the best candidate to try to go for help. Eddie was willing “to go,” to leave what safety there might be clinging to a capsized canoe to attempt getting help to rescue the crew. Because he was willing to go, he set out in the direction of Lana’i, never to be seen again. All the rest of the crew would later be rescued, only Aikau would perish.

It’s Eddie’s selfless act of being willing to risk his life for the needs of others that is embodied in the phrase you sometimes here on the Hawaiian islands … “Eddie would go.”

It’s a sentence of inspiration, perhaps even challenge, because most of us would never be willing to place our lives in such danger if we didn’t know there would be a safe outcome, and especially for others.

But Eddie would go.

Eddie did go.

When others are in peril or need, and you’re capable of helping, what would it take for you to provide help, or go for help, on their behalf?

Scotty