Peace out Christo Coonen
a redemption song: 1947 - 2025
This remembrance began as a condolence message to two Hawaiian sisters on the loss of their father. They are the grown-up daughters of a dear departed friend (their mother), from an old-fashioned auntie and faraway friend. In February, their father died far away, in his third island home. It took me till last week to see the news that Christo Coonen had died two months ago, back in February, far away on an island near Mindanao in the Philippines. I’d seen that L. and M. were heading there back in January, a few weeks after they posted a GoFundMe to help with Christo’s medical expenses, so I figured the end was near. But things went quiet and we went off to travel.
When we got home in early March after 3+ amazing weeks south of the equator, I looked online for news. Since local newspapers have mostly vanished, and I rarely look at Facebook, obituaries of ordinary and extraordinary folk have begun to disappear.
In a way, it was a relief to see the Instagram post remembering the life and times of Christo Coonen, confirming my suspicion. Photos from Camiguin Island, a place I’d never heard of. Christo lived there part-time for much of the 21st century, in a place that made me wonder how he ever got there, and yet it looked SO MUCH like his kind of place.
Wind of the old days
I want to say I knew peak Christo, but that’s probably not altogether true. I’m sure there were as many peaks in his blazing life as there are in a good day on the waves. He was the ex-husband of my beloved friend Claudia, who died in 2011, father to her girls, whom I’ve stayed in touch with through the years. When they split up, I stopped seeing much of him.
When I met Claudia and Christo in the middle-eighties, they were already mythic, at least in my malahini imagination. The quintessential hippie couple, warm and welcoming on the beach at Anaeho’omalu Bay: Claudia always with a wide smile, a cold beer and a freshly rolled joint to share. She was an artist, and she sold her work at the fabulous Volcano Arts Center gallery. Christo was a nervy, frugal, near-sighted man always ready for the next adventure. He was edgy and intense, but steady with a hammer, and committed to the wind. A steely skinny guy from Detroit, who fiercely adored his two little daughters.
Soon after I became a regular at A-Bay, the Coonens stopped showing up to sail on the weekends, leaving our amiable scene to wave-sail the wild deep blue water at South Point. They lived in South Kona, so South Point was closer than Waikoloa. And then, they made the big move to Maui. They bought a lot in Haiku, upcountry from the windy north shore, up the road from Ho’okipa and the trade winds.
I came to visit for a sailing vacation in 1987 or 1988 and even though the family was still semi-camping in the unfinished living room of the unfinished house, all the Coonens made me feel welcome. Claudia’s hospitality was legendary. The giant lanai, almost framed, looked out over the gently sloping lot. You could see ocean on the distant horizon.
I fell in love with Maui’s steady trade winds, and knew I'd be back. That enchanting visit almost 40 years ago was followed by dozens of others over dozens of years. From that first one, M. remembers me shaving my legs under the outdoor water spigot, and L. remembers the blue trident gum I chewed constantly and always had on offer. I was younger then than they are now. But I still remember the warmth and joy - I felt as if I were in the presence of that rarest phenom: a happy family. As if all things were possible.
Time the revelator
Amazing how time operates to shape lives and unshape marriages; turns a parcel of land into a homestead, then a home, a home now in its second generation—with a banana grove, an orchard of mature fruit trees, a guava patch, ohana cabins for guests and renters, and Claudia’s ashes in a sacred spot under trees. My friendship with Claudia endured for more than twenty years after that visit, as the girls grew up and Christo moved on, back to Kona, and then on to Camiguin, home to other active volcanoes. I saw him once in the 21st century, it was the winter holidays, and we were both visiting.
It's been six years now since I've set foot on Maui. Covid happened and illness and catastrophic fire. I miss the islands, miss Maui, miss the view from Kane Road.
Christo was the fourth of eleven children, and a man who would not be tied down. He liked his freedom, and he followed where it led.
(Midwestern blues, and a fine memorial for us all.)
The passage of time and the loss of friends are so heartbreaking!😢 What amazing experiences you've had and what incredible memories to show for it. But change is hard.🥺