Michael Marshall Smith's book _Only Forward_ has a minor character, a heavy, named "Fyd". I could only wish he'd been more articulate.

If I lived permanently in Hilo, Hawaii, I would not articulate much. My wife's family has lived there for generations past, and so for Thanksgiving I made my first trip to the tropics. Warm, muggy, rainy . . . I could hardly stay awake. The Nap Islands, they were.

A book I'm reading now refers to a Hawaiian tradition of muting tension amongst the races. Certainly at a party my in-laws threw, there was a friendly intermingling amongst quite a breadth of race and culture. Not that I assume they all live in perpetual peace and harmony, but as far as a future goes, the sight gave me hope. Of course, I was rather sleepy.