As recounted here a few days ago, I balanced a 33-year-old slight this past month by traveling for nearly two weeks to Hawaii. Despite not being able to use my primary camera for most of our time on Maui, my smartphone took up the slack and I arrived home with over 750 photos. Now gather around while Grandpa adjusts the slide carousels just so and we’ll have a nice travelogue for the next couple hours.

No, just kidding. That’s what MY grandfather would’ve done. We would’ve been semi-bored because 30% of the photos were too dark to make out details, but mostly because Grandpa would feel the need to tell histories of many of the things we were trying to make out on the silver-encrusted screen–said histories sometimes being personal tales of the trip which really weren’t very interesting. “Now this is where we stayed in a really nice hotel. I don’t have a photo of that, but this bush caught our eye every morning when we left the hotel. It’s a rose-scented yackenberry–what, dear? It’s not? Well, then what is it?”

Occasionally we could have some fun by asking about weird things in the photos which he’d never noticed, or hooting when–despite all of his pre-show attention to detail–an occasional slide would be sideways and he would bravely carry on with the narrative despite his audience all having their heads at a 90º angle. The laughter would be uncontrollable if his photo also seemed near-unintelligibly dark while he droned on about what we couldn’t see.

Yet, a 10-to-14-day narrative a la our trip to Michigan and Ohio last year (starting here) seems too short–and as I reacquaint myself with last year’s travelogue–too much like Grandpa’s endless dronings in the guise of an interesting travel lecture. Instead, I’ll piecemeal it. Okay?

“Now after we overnighted in Las Vegas due to the inconvenient schedule of Southwest Airlines for Hawaii-bound East Coasters, we changed planes in Honolulu and caught our first glimpse of the Big Island when we flew by about four in the afternoon…oh, me…how did that happen?”