◆◆◆ AFTER A FAREWELL breakfast with Georgia at the hotel, Dad
and I had to drive back to Hāna. “Patricia,” Georgia said, when we finished eating. “I want to take you into the gift shop and I’d like you to pick out something you really want.” The Maui Grand Hotel’s gift shop was by far the nicest on the island, and I had often longingly studied the Chinese porcelains, ivories, jades, silk robes, and jewelry. A few weeks earlier, I’d seen a pair of satin Japanese tabi, socks designed for wearing with sandals. Mother said they were a ridiculous price at over five dollars—the 32
cotton ones I wore for dinner every night cost just a few cents. Besides, she said, I would probably ruin the satin in no time. How wonderful to be able to get something I wanted, but what if I chose a gift that cost too much? That would be most embarrassing. “Everything there is so expensive,” I replied. “Come along,” Georgia encouraged me. “We’ll find something.” I was thrilled to be in the Maui Grand gift shop with Georgia and immediately went to the shelf of satin tabi. I spotted a green and rust f lowered pair that would be perfect with my favorite Chinese silk pajamas. “Is that what you really want?” Georgia asked. “Oh, yes,” I said, delighted. “Well, that isn’t enough. What else would you like?” I wanted to ask the price of a jade ring, but surely that was too expensive. Then I saw a choker of tiny Ni‘ihau shells with a carved ivory clasp. “I’d like this if it isn’t too much.” “That will be fine,” Georgia said, patting my back. “Please don’t worry.” “Thank you so much!” I said, throwing my arms around her. When Dad and I left the hotel, Georgia came out to the car to see us off. She reached for Dad’s hands. “Please give Bob Eskridge the easel and paints I left.” Then she turned to me. Looking intently into my eyes, she said, “Patricia, you are a very special young lady. Don’t you ever forget that. I want you to promise to tell your mother what I said. She should be very proud of you. Will you do that for me?” I nodded, sadly, and Georgia hugged me and warmly kissed my cheek. My father and I got into the car, and as we drove away, Georgia waved with those beautiful hands. “I’m going to miss her,” I told my dad. “I’m happy you enjoyed her stay,” he said. “I’m glad Mother wasn’t here. Georgia O’Keeffe is now my own special friend.” Excerpted with permission from Georgia O’Keeffe’s Hawai‘i, by Patricia Jennings and Maria Ausherman, published by Koa Books, Kīhei, Maui, www.koabooks.com.
(OPPOSITE PAGE) ©GEORGIA O'KEEFFE MUSEUM
(Above) The author wearing Georgia's hat, 1939.
seemed oblivious. Then it began to pour. I ran to help her get her things into the backseat of the car, and, to my surprise, she climbed into the backseat, too. “When I’m in New Mexico, I often paint from inside my car. The sun gets too hot in the desert. Now turn around and sit quietly.” I sat slumped in the front seat and watched the rivulets running down the windshield. I was hungry and wished I’d picked a guava after all. I longed to peek over my shoulder but didn’t dare. When I shifted a bit to stretch my legs, I jarred the seat and Georgia sighed. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying not to move. A moment later, she said, “I suppose I could let you watch—but absolutely no talking.” I turned around slowly and knelt on the front seat with my arms resting on its back. Georgia, perched on the edge of the back seat, gazed intently out the side window. Her deft fingers made the green oil paints f low effortlessly into place, and I could see the valley walls and waterfall emerging on the canvas. Just as she was switching colors, the rain became torrential and our view of the cliffs disappeared. “Doesn’t look as though it’s going to stop,” she sighed, setting down her brush. She seemed satisfied with what she had done, and she turned to me and said, “You know you are a very privileged girl. I never let anyone watch me work.” I was elated beyond description, and suggested, “It probably isn’t raining outside the valley. Would you like to go someplace else?” “No, thank you, Patricia. I can do a bit more this afternoon at the hotel.”
(THIS PAGE) COURTESY OF PATRICIA JENNINGS/PHOTO BY HAROLD STEIN
She seemed satisfied with what she had done, and she turned to me and said, “You know you are a very privileged girl. I never let anyone watch me work.”
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