The other day, a co-worker asked me if I worked “Cannery” during the summer. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), I did not. I told him that I felt like I missed out on a piece of growing up.
A bunch of my friends did work at the cannery and I used to listen to the stories they’d tell. I had no input, but I enjoyed listening to their stories – which is why it almost makes me feel like I missed out on something.
I remember hearing how they worked the afternoon-early evening shift. And since they car-pooled, they said that whenever JM drove, the ride home always included a detour to cruise down Hotel street and back around Pauahi street.
Or I’d hear stories about how mean the ladies were. Or how the trimmers purposely shoved the pineapples back up the Ginaca machine to jam the machine just so they could have a short, unscheduled break. They said “Just don’t get caught!”
Shoyu Burner shared with me how his new work shoes (when he started the summer job) would later be all soaked with pineapple juice and before he’d put them on, he’d have to shoo away all the gnats and bugs. Ewww!
At my dad’s funeral, my uncle told me how my dad gave him his ID because he was under-age, just so he could work at the cannery.
The only memories I have of the cannery is riding in the car along Dillingham (where Costco is now) and smelling the cooked pineapple smell. Ho, da stink!
Did you have the privilege of working “cannery” during the summer? What stories do you have? Any other cannery memories to share? Tell me what I missed out on. LOL