Back when I was in high school, my parents bought a timeshare in Kaanapali, Maui, Hawaii. I visited a lot when I was in high school and my first years in college. After that, it was mostly my parents place (and, for the longest time, they rented out the two weeks to friends of theirs). For the longest time, the last time we were there was right after our wedding, in 1985. After my folks passed on, the unit and interval passed to me. We would go occasionally, but usually we just deposited the interval with Interval International, and just went somewhere in driving distance of Los Angeles. In other words: Las Vegas (in the summer), Scottsdale (in the summer), Tucson (in the summer), Palm Desert (in the summer), and occasionally, Escondido (in the summer). We were last in Maui for our 30th wedding anniversary in 2015. This year, being our 40th, we had the occasion to visit again.
I bring this up because this timeshare is different than most of the timeshares we visit. Other timeshare—the Grand Chateau Marriott in Las Vegas, the numerous Marriott complexes in Palm Desert in Scottsdale or Palm Desert, the Welk Resort in Escondido—they all feel like glorified hotel rooms (because they are). There is no sense of other owners; no sense of the folks with whom you share the space. The closest we came was many years ago when we exchanged for the Palm Springs Golf and Tennis Club.
Here, it is different. There is a closet shared with the owners of the other intervals. Each interval leaves a box of (non-perishable) stuff for their next visit. The box is a timecard of your last visit. Mine still has 3 sets of playing cards that my parents used, together with stationary and envelopes. We’ll add more for our next visit: dry measure cups and kitchen supplies and such.
People leave appliances for other owners. We’ve found, at the top of shelves, rice cookers and french presses, and thermal mugs and all such. You pass it forward instead of being possessive and shipping it back. People do the same with beach supplies. Interval owners are a family—I remember that there used to be mixers during each interval for the owners to meet each other. I didn’t see one scheduled when we were there; perhaps they have passed by the wayside.
The people here are a family. We get a weekly newsletter about what is happening with the TIO (Time Interval Owners) and the AOAO (Apartment Owners Association). We know the staff. We see the constant upkeep of the grounds. We learn what is happening in the community. This doesn’t happen with those timeshares where you just buy points to use somewhere else; where the point is just to get some timeshare to get into the system. This isn’t the type of timeshare where people want to sell. This is family.
Way in the back of a cabinet where people leave games and puzzles, I found a notebook: The people of XXX (where XXX is our unit). This was clearly something my dad had put together for each interval to put pictures of their family, perhaps their address. People put in menus and comments on them (and my dad’s distinctive handwriting was all over the place—he really was the outgoing people person). I was probably buried back there, and none of the owners have updated it perhaps since the 1990s. But there was a picture of my parents in there, as well as a picture of my dad and his next wife (my stepmother who just passed away). It was this remarkable time capsule of my parents; a bit of time travel that brought back memories of summer on Maui as a teen. Remember—this was 50 years ago!
Finding that notebook reminded me how special this place is. Perhaps, now that I’m retired, we’ll brave the 5+ hour flight to come out here more years.
