 if we had been a hula nation and what that would look like, what it would feel like, what it would be like, and just using the values that were taught in Hulu, I thought that if there was any sort of product that I'd like to put out into the world it would be with those values in mind. As artists, we just kind of hope that people might like what we do and the response was even better than I had ever, ever expected. Hulu, I want to have a home. Let's go. Isn't it really that? I thought, can you see a little bit? I would cry myself into a puddle of lost dreams and emotion, but I decided to assign blame. I hate you, Guy Harvey. Whoa, that's a pie. It's really wonderful to know that compassion and understanding and acceptance translates into any language. And really, I feel so fortunate from the music to the direction I'm going to be going. Follow your heart and really go for it. Welcome to Lamama. My name is Mia Yu. I'm the Artistic Director and part of the team here at Lamama. And I'm Billy Clark. I'm the Artistic Director of Culture Hub. Our mentor and founder of Lamama, Ellen Stewart, had a ritual of ringing the bell before performances and events to bring the audience together. Tonight, we ring the bell for Keo and all those who love him. In the summer of 2004, it was one of the most meaningful and magical summers we've ever had at Lamama, Umbria, which is the artistic residency in Italy. There are certain people that you encounter who touch you and change you in a way that impacts the rest of your life. One of the amazing things about that summer is that we were in the presence of three of those people. Robert Cosmero, Roberta Uno, and Keo Wolver. Three people whose intelligence, artistry, openness, humor, and grace influence us far more than we could ever have imagined. They were in residence at Lamama developing items. And that was the first time that Ellen Stewart and Robert Cosmero met. We remember eating and talking about fabulous Italian food together. And we remember laughing so hard around the table and in the car rides going to visit a monastery that was the monastery of St. Francis. And then we went also to this lovely little mountain village. The whole time we continued to laugh. We remember conversations that stayed with us for a long time. We felt so lucky. It was right before Mia and I were married. And it was such a special and meaningful experience to be moved in such a way together. And I think that it deeply impacted our relationship and how our relationship developed. Maybe it was what sealed the deal. That summer we were introduced to Hula. And watching Keo dance, we were transported. His great spirit, his talent, and ultimately his love opened up a whole world to us. It was a world where we felt the power of art to transform. That summer changed us forever. It's still very hard to believe what has happened. At the same time, we feel so blessed to have shared that magical time. Thank you, Robert. Thank you, Roberta. And thank you, Keo. We feel you here tonight on this Valentine's Day in the Ellen Stewart Theater. Thank you. We welcome you to this human myth of Aloha, of friends, New York friends, theater friends, Hula friends, friends, and any family here. And I simply offer to you, just as a shark's tail can suddenly move and change direction, so has Keo suddenly moved and changed direction. And just as the shark seeps out the sacred flame at the bottom of the sea, so has Keo continue his search for the sacred flame in the heavens and pursues that burning passion that inspires him still. Enjoy. Aloha, Kako. Robert Casemaro once said, we all can be made better for daring to dance. And I was a student briefly in Keo's New York Cun and Hula class, albeit a remedial Hula student who never graduated. We have Hula Basics. On the other hand, watching Keo dance brought joy. There was bravery, courage, self-belief, and beauty in his movements. And tonight it's my honor to perform a favorite song of Keo's, one of his most blessed and beloved songs. Kanaka Bayonai. Aloha. I knew Keo from way back when he was still calling. Right out of high school, we were introduced by our voice coach and teacher, Eunice DiMello in Manoa Valley. Our first encounter was in choir schools. From that day on, Joey and I became best friends, literally. If I wasn't found hanging or he hanging out at my center, they were both found cruising together all over the island somewhere. Joey and I were most connected through our love for music of all types. In those days, I remember Joey fascinating adoration for Michael Jackson. We loved tearing up the dance floors in the most pulsating nightclubs in Honolulu. We loved going to concerts. One of our favorites was waving hello to Whitney Houston from the front row at the NPC arena. That was awesome. My most cherished moment back in Hawaii with Joey was laying in the sand in the wee hours of the morning, like 3 a.m. on a work night, staring at the bright stars in the vast Hawaiian sky, sharing our deepest thoughts about our hopes and dreams and passions of what we wanted to be when we grew up and became professional. We'd ask each other questions like, what would you name your first album when you have one? Or, what is the title of your first number one song? I can still vividly remember Joey's answer to that question. He said, Scott, my first number one song will be titled, We Gotta Start Somewhere. Right? That's so Joey. As the years rolled by, Joey moved to L.A. and soon established himself as K.O. Wilbert, the singer of an actor. While I moved to New York City to pursue my music career and to become housemates with an R&B singer and longtime family friend named Evelyn Champagne King. Okay, let's fast forward. Before I knew it, K.O. moved to New York City. It felt like it became full circle for the both of us. In 2005, K.O. asked me to compose and perform a song for a Broadway player that he was involved in, Sonets for an Old Century. My song would appear on the CD soundtrack. I said to K.O., sure I'll do it, but only if you sing the background vocals and arranger too. As only K.O. would enthusiastically reply, shoot's T, let's do it. You will hear it kills sweet boys in the background when I sing the song. Ironically, this play was comprised of multiple short skits, each of them with one repetitive theme. Death. Each story would ask, what would someone say in the splinter of a moment before they were silenced forever by their physical death? K.O. chose for me the story about a boy who loses his father. I named the song, In My Heart I Know, from the boys' perspective. This very special song was the only professional collaboration that K.O. and I have ever worked on in our careers. It kind of trips me out today to think that I'm singing this for K.O., like it was prophecy or something. Right now, even more than the professional singer, the dancer, the writer, the director and even the teacher, I am most missing in my one and only go-to person, that one and only human being who deeply understood my life here in the Big Apple. First hand, as a simple local boy from the Aina too. K.O. too understood the city mentality, the quick pace, the change of drastic northeast weather, so-on-like Hawaii. Even sometimes the requirement of having to be that brutally honest New Yorker. K.O. and I shared that deep understanding of how much we both had to stretch. Stretching from one side of the world to the other. Stretching from the most isolated place on our planet to the empire state of our country. We stretched without losing or compromising our Aloha spirits, our item customs and all that goes with it. As K.O. would always remind me, no matter if you want pop, star, singer, Scott, no matter what kind of style the artist, you either get true Aloha or you no more. Aloha is where we are always the same. And together K.O. and I wholeheartedly agreed how we both found plenty of Aloha spirit here in the Big Apple and how we were so blessed through beautiful people like you that are here with us tonight. So give yourself a round of applause, please. Mahalo Nui Loa to each and every one of you. To all of you who are watching the live stream from all over the world. And a big Mahalo to everyone who put this beautiful event together. And especially to Roberto Uno, big round of applause for Roberto Uno. It's kind of a pleasure to be here with you today. I welcome Nui Loa and to Patty Danko for connecting me to all of this. Thank you Patty, I love you. So I sing this for you K.O. by money, because in my heart right now, Aloha by ear boy, I love you. Now before I say over Nui Loa, who is just one of the most important individuals to K.O.'s life, she asked me to read this message to you for her so she couldn't be here. And on behalf of everybody that I just have to see. So they said that their spirit is here with you if you're watching right now. Aloha all, my name is Trace LaRuea. I am a long time friend of K.O.'s as well as his publicist bodyguard. I only have Joe about the bodyguard part because that's what we were. Guy has my business partner and I were bodyguards. Our job was to protect our friend, his work, his brand, and now his legacy. I wanted to share a little bit of K.O. and his film life. For many who might not know, K.O.'s film, the Hamana, is the most successful independent film to come out of a body. It is the only film that has ever sold out to Hawaii. It was a big film, right? I watched it like about 25 times already. And I got 3 DVDs as I burned them out. So I really do. It is the only film that has ever sold out to the Hawaii International Film Festival. And the only film that has ever sold out to the historical body theater. Wow. It is still being viewed around the world thanks to Hawaii Airlines in-flight movies. As well as being shown in schools, halos, and other organizations worldwide. His legacy will live on not only in his community but also globally. While a life in film was important to K.O., even more important was the sharing of his Hawaiian culture. And especially Hula. I was one of three guests invited by K.O. to witness his Uniki ceremony. A Hawaiian graduation ceremony for Hula. On Kaua'i at a sacred spot called Iku Ha'a. A Uniki ceremony consists of months of rigorous tests of the mind, body, soul, and Hula. He passed them all, of course. When he was graduated after his final Hula dance, the slight smell on his face said it all. I have never seen H.O. cry. He shed tears of joy as he received thunderous applause by his closest friends in Halau, Ohana, his family. What an accomplishment in life. In closing, I want to share that the Uluho Festival that K.O. and I co-founded in 2015 will now be changed and turned into the Uluho Foundation. Its purpose is to continue new growth, which is what Uluho means, through food, film, and education. And to perpetuate the spirit of his work. We hope to execute a kick-off event in December of 2017 at the Honolulu Museum of Arts Doris II Theater. Mahalo for letting me be a part of this special day. A day to honor our hearts. K.O. Milani. Aloha. Mahalo. Tracy. Thank you. New York. Ohana. This is a time that we remember and celebrate K.O. Wolfer. I know by myself and all of the many people who are touched by his beautiful life. We are so grateful for those special moments that we have together. I first met K.O. in New York City. He had just moved to New York and we used a dancer from Robert Hanson Arrow and Jeanne Cassidy and I were teaching Ula in New York City to our Hawaii community there. And we were so thrilled to have K.O. join us and teach us, teach Ula along with us to our New York community. One of the things that I remember so fondly of K.O. is that he always made everyone feel special. I feel comfortable and accepted for who they were. He had this great gift of working with our students and our community to bring great greatness and joy and intentionality, knowing that you make the most of all those special moments that you have together. He would teach our Hula Hula class and always bring together and create such a warm feeling amongst all the people who were blessed to be with him. We had a wonderful three years together in the art teaching and are so grateful for his great creativity that he brought to not only our community but also in his artistic work. In Hula but also in his I-Lan and later on to share in his personal journey, not only to theatrical work but also in his Halana film to really capture the great spirit that he gave to all of us. He'll be deeply missed but we know that we can move forward knowing that we have so much that we've learned from him to remember to really cherish every moment that we have and do the best we can to do good things in our lives. To all of you, I extend my warm welcome as we celebrate his time thinking of the life of Kayle Wolford and part of the vibrations I see about him. I'm Claudia Dutter and I'm one of the musicians for the New York community, musicians for the Hula community here. When I first came on the scene here in New York playing for Hula dancers, I'd always been hearing about this magical dancer named Kayle Wolford and I wondered about him. And then he came to visit because at that point he had already moved back home to Oahu and he came to visit and we met him and can I tell you how much we musicians loved to play for Kayle when he danced the Hula. It was just amazing. And he was so sweet after every party of Paul Hanna or Camila. Always right after he would write me a little email thanking me and the musicians for playing for him and for the Hula. And it was always so sweet. He had such a generosity and spirit. So much of Oahu. In 2007 he taught a workshop and he announced he was going to teach a Hula for us. The water is wide so I offered to play for him. And what a challenge. He's so popular. I think 45 people showed up for the workshop. So that ruin was packed. But he was so patient, so patient and so much of Oahu. And he danced so beautiful that we're going to do it here for you tonight. And we resurrected the dance for it. So this is what it was like before it goes. We've got Eleanor coming to talk to us. Hello everybody. My name is Eleanor and I am one of a few participants. When I dance the Hula, I see my Hula features in my head. I hear their voices. And I hear, I'm sorry, I can't hear anybody crying. But I clear the Hula mostly. There's an echo in my head of the dance. And it whispered along the extent and extent that became our mantra here in New York. The three E's of Hula. But Keio, as he's teaching us, is always like, ooh, I'm not a Kuno face. They always have that face. You know, you remember that face where it's like, there's no one that's knowledge or there's no one that... He just wanted to make sure that people don't call him Kuno. But he did ingrate in us this mantra of, you won't get your arm extended. Although I can never really extend as far as he is because it's a long, long, long arm. But I'd like to call all the Hula sisters that are dancing waterside and finishing my VP speech. You know, I've always wanted to dance like the Keio, but it's always like, ugh, I don't wanna... I have to be really, really good. And the first time I danced with him was right after his performance. And I had one song that I really wanted to perfect. And that was Hula Hula Ka'a. And I think after his performance at Asia Society, they asked him to dance. And I was like, oh my God, please, Hula Hula Ka'a. And of course, he played the song and then he was like, come on. That was dancing next to him for that first time was one of my happiest moments in my Hula life. Even when he left New York, he went to LA, he would come and visit and he would visit our class and he would really share his mana'a on his aloha. He would go over the basic. He would conduct workshops. And he created the Hula choreography as our Hula exercise to work on our Ka'a'a, to work on our New York and to move fluidly through our steps. He was going to miss him and would love him. But is this Hula a choreograph? The water is wide. He gave us wings to soar. And we see him in the Hula. Ka'a feels so present. And we miss him and we feel him here. He's thinking about the kind that I knew him and worked with so many here on island and all that that piece meant, the island and the island and being rooted and grounded. And I looked at the script, the final part of that script. And it's so powerful. And it's so powerful for today and for the future. And that's what art is really about. It's about helping us see how we live not only in the present but into the future. So bear with me. I just wanted to read the final part of Island, which I think the poetry speaks so loudly and clearly to the moment we're in. If we lived in a Hula nation, extinct birds would still sing and people would crave before cutting down a tree. If we lived in a Hula nation, no one would go hungry and no one would be on a diet. If we lived in a Hula nation, big women would be on the cover of all magazines. If we lived in a Hula nation, Starbucks would serve others. If we lived in a Hula nation, violence and movies would be triple X-rated and sex would be celebrated. If we lived in a Hula nation, men wouldn't be embarrassed to wear a skirt. If we lived in a Hula nation, every child would have parents. Under the Hula is the sun, the moon and the stars, legends and thousands of years of genealogy. Under those are volcanoes and oceans. Under the volcanoes and oceans are mountains and valleys. Under those are kings and queens and poetry celebrating them and all the things above them. Under those are a history of a people in my community. Under my community. With Asia Society, I'm Ralph Pena with My Theatre Company. We co-produced Island with Kale. That was out of the culture project. The set looked very much like this. It was a circle in a way that Cliff Ramos designed, who's now Tony Award winner, set designer, Clint. But Roberta and Kayo were very much the driving energy behind this thing that we knew we wanted to do because it's so rarely ever done. And what I'm going to read here is the note that Roberta and Kayo wrote in the program of Island. We met on one Island, man happened, and discovered we were both born on another. Oh wow. Roberta was a haumana in a class in New York City where Kayo was assisting Hula Instruction with Michelle Akina. We discovered that we shared backgrounds in the theatre. Then, as Hawaii people do, we got together to talk story. And boy did they talk because that's when they came to me and they said we got to do this play. Even though one of us has been raised in Hawaii and the other in California, our stories and experience intersected. We both found that landing in New York, possibly the most culturally diverse city in the world, our Asian Pacific culture so prevalent elsewhere, was surprisingly unknown. We both had experienced comments, not just from the Halloween, but from other people of color, or even Asians, about being from Hawaii or dancing Hula. How exotic. What an unusual hobby. Why are you so interested in a hybrid culture, laughter as in, that's really kitch. Making this piece was a way of thinking about landing in different locations and having the capacity to embody several cultural experiences simultaneously. From the beginning, we didn't want Ireland to be a tourist guide to Hula, nor to claim there is one Hawaiian identity. We wanted to reach beneath the surface without completely revealing the kahauna, the multiple hidden or deep meanings underneath. That's from Keio and Roberta and we love it and we miss it. I went on tour with Keio and David Shelley, who was our technical director back in 2007. We started off for a whole month in the islands in Hawaii and before that we were in Houston. But we played also really large theaters all over the country. But it was in the small community centers, the tiny places. It was in the islands, in places like community center in Hana, in Molokai. They were young, teenage local boys. They were the ones that were really transformed by meeting Keio and seeing his performances. It was masculinity and vulnerability that they'd never seen before. One of the local boys on Molokai, we asked him, Keio asked him, well, what do you want to be when you grow up? And he said, well, I either want to be a mixed martial artist or a hula dancer. After seeing that. We also played in Montana in a mental hospital for children who were incarcerated and they didn't know what they'd probably be getting out. They were also released from their rooms for the first time all day to see Keio do a 30-minute version of the show. And Keio chanted the old aloha and he said, this is my gift for me, to you. And one of the kids there actually was Hapa and said, I know how to say I'm proud, but I'm always hungry, you know what I mean? And Keio was just amazing with these kids. We played in New Orleans just a couple of years after Hurricane Katrina and rode around on motorcycles and Keio would ever once in a while get off and do some chanting or dance. In Manila, they kept mistaking him for a movie star and we told him, it's not a stage. It's often lonely on the road when you're especially in a one-man show. He was at a crossroads in his life, vulnerable and figuring out which way to go. On the way to Molokai, I remember there was a tiny plane with a kickstand. It was nerve-wracking. Keio had to be convinced to get on the plane. I found out later, or today, that Dave Shelley lied about his weight. He figured that the other six people on the plane were not honest about their weight, so he added 30 more pounds. We're very thankful for that. So Keio did what he does every night. He would basically tear himself down right before he got on stage. And before he got on the plane, he took that trusting leap of faith that all the great actors do. Keio would feel everything and perform us, take everything to heart. He'd connect his heart to a large wire every night. On the road, he made a decision to love himself finally, to embrace honesty, to live offstage as he did on. And I think he's affected every single one of us in this room, the same thing. So embarrassed, my name's been said so many times, so no one else gets to say it after this. I really want to mahalo everybody for so much love and care and effort, you know, in every way, to make this New York event possible. I want to extend, on behalf of all of us, our aloha and our condolences and our deep gratitude to Keio's family, especially his beautiful father Dwight and his very beloved niece, Rayse, and all of the Ohana, I want to thank them. Really, my gratitude is about letting the rest of us have Keio for a period of time. We are so, so, so grateful for that. I want to thank Michelle Keenan, Janu Cassidy, for bringing him into their hula community. And, you know, they built this hula, kind of, you know, it's a community, but really a hollywood for every week. People of different ages, of different genders, of different abilities, could all come and be introduced to hula. And different skill levels, it was really quite remarkable. And I think, ultimately, what they were doing was community building. And if you could, you know, just imagine that what you're seeing tonight, what we're experiencing tonight, really was that ripple of the community that they created. So, we're deeply, deeply indebted to Keio for that and to Michelle and Janu. I want to also thank my dear friend, Robert Cozumero, Kumu Hula, Robert Cozumero, Nakamale, and my cool, Vicky Hope Takamine, for their love and their guidance in putting this together. It has been very, very special and very important to a Nana Ike Kumu to look to the source. And thank you for lending us one of Keio's key haves, beautiful key haves that was printed by him with Hala. His beautiful lei that is on the table. And then one of Nakamale members, Norman Kainoa Kawagi, lent us this beautiful Kahi Pa'alima, Norman-like Keio, came to New York to be an artist and joined the Alvin Ailey Company in the 1980s and still lives here and taught himself Kumu Hula. So it's kind of beautiful, you know, from Hawaii, from Manhattan kind of weaving together. Like many, many people here, I met Keio in Hula class. But when we met, we both had this thing of like a double take. We knew each other's names already, but we couldn't figure out why. And we decided to go out to dinner together, learn we were both theater people and then learned that the very pioneering theater artists and choreographers had introduced us long distance when he was living in LA. And so I said to Keio, you know, I know we were meant to make something, but I'm not sure what it is. As a theater director and you're an actor, I can only ask you, you know, do you have a one man show? Now this is New York, and so when you meet an actor, like they have one in their back pocket. Like the director asked, right, and Keio being Keio said the most Keio thing, which he looked at me and he said, who would want to look at or listen to me in a one man show? I was like, well, you don't just like the magnet that you are in Hula, like we, yes, we're mesmerized by you. And hearing the stories about, you know, here's someone who played the king and the king and I on the west end. Here's somebody who was in the most popular boy band, Brown Skin in Hawaii. You know, here's somebody who was also doing spoken word poetry, creating work with other theater artists. And here was somebody who was at an elite level of Hula with Nakamale. So I just wanted to share with you tonight with some of his actor friends and his dear, dear friends in Dichang. A little glimpse into kind of the process because Rachel Cooper, who spoke before, you know, she just took this kind of leap of faith. He said, Rachel, we don't have any money, but you just give us some space. And we went through the ages of society and sat on your stage for hours, did improv and writing prompts. And Rachel had the, you know, presence of mind to actually videotape and transcribe our work. So after Keo passed, I went back to some of those transcriptions and looked at his words. And, you know, I had to do all kinds of funny things, like not just writing prompts, but write a list of ten things that really piss you off. And now I'm going to put a soapbox right there and I'm going to get the stopwatch and you have to go one from ten to two minutes on each topic. And, you know, everybody's like, Keo's so nice. Well, you know, we have a lot of fun with Keo on the soapbox. So we're going to have Cindy Chang and Dazzle Asoledo and Marina Salander and Dave Shelley, who not only being an amazing production manager, tour manager, but is also an amazing actor, do a reading from excerpts of Keo's writing in workshop. And then that is going to be followed by we worked with two wonderful choreographers on I-Land. He's Kumu Kula, Robert Casimero, and the spectacular hip-hop choreographer we were so honored to work with and travel with for two years, Rockefeller. So Rockefeller's Peace and Rockefeller's Remarket will follow. But now, what do we call this? I-Land outtakes. I-Land outtakes. Your senses change. All your senses change. I'm Cindy Chang and I met Keo in 2002 with Ed, my boyfriend at the time. And I think we met him with the day after he moved to New York. And like Billy said earlier, we just laughed so hard. That's all I remember for the two hours that we shared dinner together. And we hit it off so quickly that a few months later when Ed and I were getting married, Keo was sitting at our table and had written a song for us and performed it at our wedding. So we fell in love really fast. Hi, I'm Dasty Lasabato and I met Keo through a mutual friend who brought me to the island. And I believe the workshop performed the first workshops of it blew my mind and it turns out he was my neighbor. And I would see him at events and things and we would walk home together through New York City. And he sort of loved the city and sort of the way I did and we would sort of marvel at everything together and the fish and you know, he would just walk away and I felt very safe walking through New York City with him. And he was just so, four years ago I was shooting a commercial somewhere in Atlanta and I was in a hotel room and it was like two in the morning and I had to get up really early and I couldn't sleep and I'm flipping channels and I'm like, ugh, there he is. That's Keo. And on PBS they were playing his film, The Hamanah. And I just sat there and watched the whole thing and I was just in awe of it. I was just mesmerized by him and all the stuff I didn't get when I saw Island the first time, I got it. Like seeing him with this brotherhood with all these guys dancing together, I got it. And I was going to sleep with a big smile on my face and thinking of Keo and friend Keo. So lucky. I'm so proud that that's my friend Keo and it's amazing. I'm Dave Shelley and I was Keo's production manager on Island. And kind of what would happen when Christopher, myself and Keo would do the show, I'd go, Keo, what do you want to do? He goes, ah, cool off. I'm a little hungry. Yeah, of course. So then it was a debate about what we're going to go eat. I said, Keo, I need some fish. He goes, okay, this place is not so good. We go over here. So we go there. We have a nice dinner. And then it's dessert time. All right? So it's like, anybody getting dessert? I'm like, okay, come on. I don't need anything. No, no, no. So we'd think about it. There'd be debate about what kind of dessert. And he'd always go, he'd get some. And then I'm like, no, I'm good. He'd go, poppy, poppy, come on. You got to have a little. You got to have a little. As you know, he was a dessert pusher all the time. A man loved dessert. So when we were on tour in Houston, we went to a place called the House of Pies, which is basically a denny's with like 36 different types of pies. Like up in the little photos everywhere, there's a big pie counter that you would order from. And it's like Texas. It is big. So last weekend, Saturday, I was doing a show in Houston and I was by myself and I said, you know what? I'm going to the House of Pies. So nine o'clock, by myself, at the counter, I'm like, give me the largest piece of chocolate cream pie you have for me and my friend, Keo! And I sat there. There's no way I could finish it. And it just made me think about it. How happy you was in so many small moments following that. Okay, that's not fair. I can't follow dessert. Marina Salander. And I know Keo through Hula. It was one of my Hula teachers together with Michelle and Alea Quina that we saw earlier and Geno Cassi. And yeah, when I close my eyes and I think of Keo, all of these sort of flickers or glimmers of memory snippets and definitely long lines and elongations and just majestic beauty that Eleanor also mentioned before. Just this extension that goes on forever. Another very yummy memory is of course of Keo dancing at the HCF Ohana holiday parties. I didn't try that on anyone. And just, you know, his smile sort of like a little bit shy but also a little bit mischievous. And then he goes, shut up. So this is all your senses change. Things that drive me crazy. Traffic. Traffic here and in Hawaii. People driving so slow like they're in a parade. Stupid people in stupid films. When I'm late. The subway, when it's broken down, especially the F train. People who don't get in the train. People don't just stop inside the door, get in. And where are the odorans? Ignorance about hula. Drunk tourists flapping their arms. Elitism. The religious rights. Unapologetic waste. The price of cigarettes. Even though I just quit. Laugh of compassion. Procrastination. Obligation. The hummer. People who don't pick up after their dogs. If your dog shifts. Pick it up people. Things I wonder about. Why are we so busy? Our lives. People need to know exactly what you are. What difference does it make? What does dust come from? Why is it only people without money give the homeless people on the subway like, hey brother, there's two dimes. Why do I love New York? The buildings, just amazing. Old buildings, the new buildings. And super tall buildings. And they're all condensed into this one little place that everyone can interact. Central Park. It's in Oasis. The museum. The fear. Get a picture of the food. The food, oh my god. Weird movies. You can never see anywhere else. The dog. All the different kind of dogs. They're just a beacon when you're walking down the street. When you see a dog carefree in the city your heart just melts. PASCA PASCA. Let's eat there after this. The subway. I love being a local. Crossing town underground when everyone above is stuck at rush hour. All the different kinds. People. Not like LA where everyone is an aspiring movie star. Here, every different occupation is equally important. Artists. Restaurateurs. Drivers. Trash collectors. The people here are real. What about the cold? I love the snow. I love getting bundled up. Wearing big coats. Last year's snow on a Thanksgiving and Christmas. The city gets snow-white. The whole place deserted. Plain snow the fight with my friends. In the middle of Broadway. The whole sense of where you are. All your senses change. What is so sacred? Spirituality. You. The rhythm of the Ipoheken. The voices of the Olie. The chickens inside. The wind. The sky. And the sun. I was born again at a black church in LA. When they were singing and dancing, I was in tears. But it wasn't about Jesus Christ. I wasn't thinking about the Trinity. It was about being connected to the universe. When you're outside of yourself. Your whole life is meaningless in the scope of the universe. The larger picture. My Kumu. And his Kumu. And her Kumu. And so on and on and on became that link. My genealogy. You want to know what else? I'm from a place where... Though I never did, I'd like to. I still have dreams about... I believe because... If you saw through my eyes, you would notice... In high school, I was this God from... This is a postcard too. People mistake me for... Three things I know are true are... Three things I know are lies are... I knew when I was a man... The first time I felt truly free. I'm from a place where... I knew I was a man. I always wanted to. Though I never did, I'd like to. I still have dreams about... I had to leave. If you saw through my eyes, you would notice... In high school, I was this God from... This is a postcard too. People mistake me for... Three things I know are true are... Three things I know are lies are... I knew I was a man when... The first time I felt truly free was... The first time I felt truly free was... The first time I felt truly free. It was very special. I was touched. I didn't know anything about Buddha. So I definitely embarrassed myself. I was like, is it like this? You guys do like, you know, the coconut and... The fire. And he laughed, he was so kind. And I was very wrong. And he was just so passionate about his culture... That I realized we did have a common thread. I'm very passionate about hip-hop culture. About the roots, the ancestors... How they manifested in his dance. And I saw that it was exactly the same way K.O. was. And a lot of times we would talk about what happened. What has happened here? How come we feel so cheap? How come I feel like hip-hop can just be thrown away... The bowl is cheaply done and forgotten about. And talking to K.O. made me feel like... I will help to keep this culture going. Because look at what K.O. is doing. Look at how K.O. is mobilizing so many people. Through love. And I'm a rough girl, you know. Roberta was there a couple of times. And K.O. was trying to teach me how to hula. And he was like, you're too rough, girl. And I would just say, yeah, I'm from the Bronx. I'm in combat mode all the time. But he showed me tapes. Because back then it was tapes of the beautiful, beautiful culture and tradition of Hawaii. And I fell in love. And I knew that because he is doing what he's doing, I can't continue what I'm doing. So I was very, very sad when I was told that he passed away. Because I almost felt loved. But then I realized he gave me a big gift that I could carry forever. So I just wanted to offer my thanks and let you all know that K.O. lives on and he sees it. And again, my name is Robin Casano. And you pretty much, some of you might know who I am. I met you while I was in New York. Mostly with K.O. I think. You know, when I think about K.O., several things come to mind. No meat. No ice in the water. It seems to be a very big part of his life. Like you, I miss him. I miss his kindness and his acceptance. I miss the lessons that he taught me in that I knew I could learn so much more from him. I want to thank you for remembering him. And I would like to encourage you to tell K.O. stories. To tell me the ones we love alive so that they don't become so much mid as we have a tendency to be. We also have a tendency sometimes to make people we love bigger than life. And are the least much deserving of that. I think that the human and the very humble part of K.O. would be just happy with the kind of stories we would all share about him. So I have one story I'd like to share with all of you. After K.O. had passed, I had talked with this friend Tracy Lola. Sorry, I had talked with our friend Tracy Lola. Who had told me that when she was with another friend of K.O.'s, she asked K.O. to give her a sign if he was alright. And the next morning, under the blue on her carpet, she found a feather which she found was very unusual because, you know, it's not like there were a lot of birds around or whatever. So then Tracy thought she tried the same thing and the next day she kind of like found a feather too. I didn't think I needed to do that because, you know, I still think K.O. is right here. And I'm sure some of you feel the same way. But it was Christmas time and I had gone to my Christmas tree and I had all these ornaments on it. And I looked at one particular ornament. Now it wasn't that there weren't like duplicates of that ornament on the tree, but I looked at one in particular and I kind of just vaguely thought in my mind, I'm not looking for any kind of crew. There's nothing that you need to do for me. But how's it going? It's going to be nice. You know, this little ornament on the floor. Like the feather. Nothing. Everyday nothing. But the day after Christmas I always clean up everything in my house that says Christmas. And I take the ornaments off. I take the tree off, a little ornament that I had sitting on. And I take off the glass top and I lift the ornament. And on the bottom of the ornament, right in the middle, was that ornament. And will you give me a second? Here it is. And it was sitting in the middle of where I had taken the ornament off. And I looked at it and I just started laughing. Because I thought you son of a gun? That's not exactly what they say. It wouldn't be a bad idea. I'm making them work for this. And so I just, I keep this guy close to me all the time. Because it makes me smile. And it makes me think of Kao. And the different ways that we can teach each other lessons every day. To be better. To be grateful. And to live in positive vibrations. Kind of a spiel written out. But it seems like everyone's telling very beautiful stories about Kao. So even though I didn't know him very well, I want to share my story about Kao. I actually saw Island when it came out here in New York. I had worked for an organization called Aperture. Promoting HIV awareness in the Asian and Pacific Island community. And I took this guy that I really liked to see it. He didn't know it was a date though, but that's okay. You know, I wanted to share that with everyone. Because, you know, knew him well and I, he did provide those connections for everyone. And the song that we're going to do today is Aloha Ako Aloha Mai. That he had written with Michael Lanakilo Kasapan. And the song reminds me in our home right now that Aloha is a powerful force. And that we should always remember that. In about 2003. And it's a spoof on like a steamy film noir kind of novel. And I play this like artistically and sexually frustrated painter. And he's like the hot, hunky neighbor that comes over. And in this scene, there's a tattoo on his arm. And I say, oh, you know what, I always wondered what that said. And he says, it's Chinese. And then I go over and I read it. And I said, oh, rain. And he says, oh, you read Chinese. And I said that right before we went on stage, we decided that we would write rain in English. But it's like Chinese brush stroke. And we just thought that was so funny. So it's called Pete Seo, like a Korean name. Kim came up with in the show, Sides, that we did about terrible auditions. And he took that name and a little history on that. Kao and myself and our friends Rodney Toe and Eileen Rivera, we're all actors in 2004. And we wanted to see what it was like to try writing for the first time. And we talked about it a lot. And then we decided, OK, OK, it's time. We're going to do it. We're going to form this group. So we called our group, It's Time. And we met up regularly. And it was really safe space because none of us were writers. We're just actors responding to prompts. And we got to the point where we were brave enough to each write a short film and then film it. We didn't know what we were doing at all. And there were no cell phone cameras. So we had something mounted on the tripod. So this section is from the film that Kao wrote called Pizza. And he placed Pete and he happens to deliver pizza instead of be an investment banker that he pretended he was to this guy he was dating. And at the very end there's a group scene and you'll see that he comes in a few seconds later and that's because he had to turn on the camera. All the pieces had that, like three people in the total. Strolls and everything. You know, our own end credit songs. And so this is clearly Kao's choice. And I think this might be possibly one of the earliest forays into filmmaking in 2004. So this snippet of Pete's stuff. Enjoy. Can you change the subject? No, of course, it was that stupid. Shut up. Shut up. You live with your mom? I got a call. The pizza's on me. I'm sorry. Pete, wait. I'm sorry. Sorry about what? Well, do you remember what I told you that I was a lost in there? Well, actually, I know what you're trying to find out. No, I'm serious. I just don't tell people what I do because I don't want them to like it, but I know you don't like it. You're cute. You're smart. Wait, wait, wait. What was the first one again? So this is why I'm not seeing you at night. This is why I don't know what you are. Is it because of a new job? And where you're so, I think I'm just giving up to you. Why not? But that doesn't mean I don't want to love you. This is I'm so bad after all. How about Kay and Pizza? Today. He said, oh, you know, I wrote this, I wrote this cheesy song. He really, you know, downplays it. And, you know, Kayo is a pop composer and a pop singer, and I am not. But out of respect for him, I'm going to sing it, as they say in karaoke, in the style of Kayo Wolf. This is called I Did. You, you bring the sunshine. In the tall dancers in New York, we have, you know, we looked at Kayo a little differently because when he, as Eleanor was saying and other people have said, the extension, the height, it's like it gave us almost permission to be tall. And it felt kind of good. We're going to, we're introducing Sitting on the Dock of the Bay, another workshop. Yeah, come on down. Another workshop that Hula taught in 2008. And it was another packed house. So there's, there were no videos that existed, very little note-taking that was never performed. And so we decided to resurrect it today because it's such a beautiful song, and it was meaningful to Kayo. It helps us remember how beautiful his own music is. Shut up because that's going to pressure us so much, but she didn't start anyway. Bear with us, but I just want to say that Kayo took care of us. We were such a hula baby. We didn't know what is kao. It's like, Kayo? What? Kao? What? But he's a, Kao is beautiful. And I see so many, he's how am I not here? Like us, like me and Donna. He was the first, very first hula teacher. Do you remember that kao choo choo train? Like, we go like this. And he keeps going. Not hours, but 10, 20 minutes. And he just keeps encouraging us. Kao, hey, have fun. And then I see some, my hula sister goes like this because he was kao was so born. She was like this. And now it's Japanese. Who couldn't breathe? Breathing. She was doing kao and then he was like, so she was like really happy on her way back to subway stations. So cute. I can do kao. Not like Kayo, but close. So we would dedicate this song to Kayo. This is still Kayo. Fun loving, easy going, carefree, open. And sometimes I'm missing Hawaii. Baggy jeans in Kao. A kao in baggy jeans. That's, imagine, not that dress up. Do you know the ducks like that? Thank you so much for allowing me to be the part of your celebration today. I have Donna here with me. And her favorite policy for hula work here is helping me love the hula hula, home of the hula hula. And we're just here now and I have to give her a piece of reward that is actually, um, you don't have to face the people so you may have some problems with that. I just wanted to let all of you know that you've been here in the city and you've been in a group and we're celebrating. I guess we are the four. We love so much. We love so much. We love the pretty pictures with us. And that's how we do this all the time. The hula hula is so crazy. And that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to invite you to see that some sense of peace and celebration where you are in New York. I'm blessed that you might know me and I want to just represent you now but that we're going to be a part of your celebration. I'm going to say goodbye to this thing and you know that we're out of it. So, after you have come here, it's important for you that you have so much love and respect and we talk too much. We love you and all of you. I think I have a good situation. Aloha. You can't never say that word enough, right? When I met Kaoh, I knew of him first through the theater community. And I knew that he was teaching some classes and I was just starting to get interested in Hula. And I remember asking some of my friends in the Hula community, so who is this KO guy anyway? Is it good to take from him? And everybody said, oh, if you're going to study with KO, you're studying with the best. And I love that. I didn't get to chance to study with him. Our paths moved in different directions, but I got to play music for him and hang out with him. And it's an honor to be here tonight at the celebration of his life. We've come to the last song of the night. It's called Pua Ahihi, and it's this beautiful mele-oh-ah, this beautiful love song in Hula that was written by Merica Benapukui and Maddie Lehan. And it's a very special song because it's part of a lineage of Hula, the Maiki Ayu Lake lineage of Hula. It's a signature song for that style, and that's the style of Hula that KO was a part of, will forever be a part of. And so many of the dancers that you see here tonight have learned in that style as well. KO is a unifier, and tonight you're seeing people dressed in all different kinds of Hula finery because they represent different groups maybe right now, but one time everybody danced together, and KO brought us all together, and KO brought us all back together tonight thinking one Hula, one thing. The song Pua Ahihi talks about a beloved, and it compares one's beloved to the Ahihi flower that sits high atop Lani Huli in Nu'ul on the island of O'ahu. And it could be a beloved in a romantic sense, but tonight we compare the Ahihi flower to our beloved friend, our beloved KO. And interestingly, the name Ahihi in O'Lalo Hawai'i, in Hawai'i, in the Hawaiian language, hihi means to entangle, to entwine, to mesh together. And if you look at everybody that was here tonight, everybody who spoke and everybody who's danced, KO has touched everyone of their lives and has brought us all together, tangled together, and stitched and woven throughout all of us now is this beautiful tapestry. So while he may not be here in body, he's with us all because we are enmeshed with him, we are Hihi to him. So we offer you tonight as a closing number, Pua Ahihi. And I'd like to introduce my sister Pat. Aloha especially, to KO's Ohana, his father's wife, sister Wendy's brother Brian, his dearly beloved Racine, and her family. Aloha, Puma Robert, and his Halao Hula Brothers. Aloha to everyone watching around the world. Aloha, about love tonight, yes? Thank you. KO's favorite phrase was positive vibrations, as it was before. Thinking about that phrase, I think he was asking us to join him in the ripple effect a vibration produces, ever expanding outward to infinity, immersing oneself with only the most positive, purest, walkiest thoughts and actions. But I think KO also wanted each of us to become our own positive vibrations, to create a positive ripple effect by being filled with your local spirit and then sharing that God love with others that we need. We all loved KO's presence. It was fun, prolific, and joyful, even in the most serious circumstances. KO taught us who was doing to dance and let the energy flow with the more fingertips to stand tall, expand, and smile. But what he really taught us was a love and respect for Mikey, for people and for culture. Through his Hula lineage of anti-Miky, I relate to believe Hula his life, KO and Michelle transported us to a beautiful, peaceful world and taught us to tell our stories through dance. But most importantly, to do so with kindness, humility, and love for our Hula brothers and sisters. Anti-Miky had deep faith and so did KO. Recepting and caring for all living things, just as the ancient Hawaiian book. KO's spiritual journey was a reflection of his desire to be the Hula spirit that one would see when you were in his presence. He made each of us feel special and loved. He touched the hearts of people all around the world. In Hawaii, in New York, London, LA, the Philippines, including this straw from California. My husband says, my husband Kevin says there are two kinds of people in the world. Those that help and those that hinder. KO was a helper. He never refused a request. He was always ready to listen and lend a hand. He supported our dreams and he encouraged and helped us all to soar. Many of us now see KO in the rainbow, in the heavens, or in the shining stars of the night. My image of KO is of a bird, mostly in the mood, never still for too long, but sharing his beauty and his song along his way. Every morning, blue jays, cardinals and sparrows weeping outside of every window. Her song says, morning, my dear Patty, just to say a word, and I can hear his voice. We all see KO in some form and beauty that we encounter every day. And we see it's a Loha spirit. And maybe we choose to be the reflection of KO's spirit. Oh, but we hope that coffee is loving for KO. You are missed, but we'll never be forgotten. Loha A. Mahalo KO, the prayer is fun to sweat.