The Tree, the Hermit, the Cleric, and the Shadow

written by Anthony Kaauamo with photos by Sharmaine Mae Elan

Throughout the next four issues of Lāna‘i Today, we are spotlighting seniors from the LHES Class of 2025. In this issue we focus on Julian Elaydo, the son of Joseph and Marivic Elaydo; Kyle Llamelo, the son of Myrah Kawasaki and Rodel Llamelo; and Seth Willett, the son of Thomas Willett and Jewels Ku‘ulei Nakoa.

A small ritual unfolds under the lone monkeypod tree located below the swimming pool next to the football field. A small rain-formed divot fronts the grassy area, while the tree itself overlooks the former archery range just outside of town. Kyle Llamelo, Julian Elaydo and Seth Willett have claimed this spot as one of their meeting places, a setting that has seen them through years of debates, jokes and plans they call simply “The Tree.”

“I think I’m like the invisible kid in the class,” Kyle said as he leaned back and fiddled with a twig. “They’re more popular than I am.”

Julian, ever the observer, didn’t bother disputing the claim. That’s part of their rhythm — Kyle throws out a statement, and Julian silently decides if it’s worth a response. Most of the time, it isn’t. Quieter than the other two, Julian often moves like a shadow to their louder antics, the steady counterbalance to their chaos. “Julian’s like the sane one of the group,” Kyle admitted. “We’re the crazy ones.”

“Julian! Julian! Hello, Julian!” Seth said, waving his hands dramatically in front of Julian’s face, his rosary bracelet dangling with each motion. He edged into Julian’s personal space, speaking in the syrupy, high-pitched baby voice he often employs, where his words slur together.

Julian shook his head, smiling despite himself. “He’s always like this,” Julian said. “I mean, look at him right now. Super loud, orange shirt. He always dresses like this. Collared shirt, dress pants, and dress shoes. Also, really ornate — his rosaries, the cross ...”

“I like it. It’s comfortable,” Seth said, “Sometimes, I wear the scapular underneath.”

“It’s always Sunday for Seth,” Kyle said.

It was one of those rare moments when Kyle was outside, away from the familiar glow of his video games. While he’s often seen with Seth and Julian at school, it’s uncommon to find him with them elsewhere. Seth and Julian, by contrast, are practically joined at the hip, appearing together almost everywhere around town. Seth, aware of Kyle’s preference for staying in, isn’t above calling for reinforcements when it’s time to pull him out of the house.

“I just don’t look at my texts,” Kyle said with a shrug. “But this man calls me the other day — ”

“And you didn’t answer,” said Seth, “I texted your mom last night to tell you be here.”

Kyle leaned forward, slipping into his own exaggerated baby voice, with the same slurry enunciation Seth often uses. “It’s always my mom! It’s always my mom you have to get involved!”

For a while, Julian observed the other two like someone studying rare and bizarre creatures. 

The Start of Their Friendship

“It was in kindergarten that I met Seth,” Kyle said. The Sacred Hearts Catholic Church was a shared part of their upbringing. “I was always playing Mario 64 on my Nintendo DS,” Kyle continued. “But then we started playing down by the ditch behind the police station.”

“Remember? Your sister snitched on us,” Seth said.

“Yeah, and then our grandmas came out and were yelling at us,” Kyle said. His sister had tattled to their grandmothers, Martha Willett and Aunty Patsy Kawasaki. From higher ground, Seth’s grandma shouted, “Seth!” as she descended the hill to grab him, like Moses coming down Mount Sinai with the Ten Commandments. 

“Oh, I know you got dirty lickings. I got scolding, but then I got lickings when I got home,” Kyle said.

“I got lickings anywhere,” Seth said.

“Then Julian came along two years later, before the end of second grade,” Kyle continued. “I remember going to his house often.”

“Yeah, I knew Kyle first. We played video games together,” Julian said.

Kyle proudly takes credit for bringing the trio together. “The only reason these two met is because of me,” he said. By middle school, their friendship became more structured — or at least more frequent. Robotics club turned into an after-school hangout, though little actual robotics was involved. 

“We started playing Minecraft,” Seth said. “Then later, all three of us played Roblox.”

“I barely play Minecraft anymore. Julian hasn’t touched it in years,” Kyle said.

“I played it last night,” Seth replied.

The trio truly set in in the ninth grade. “That’s when we had every single class together,” Seth said. “We always sat by each other. We always worked together.” 

When it came to schoolwork, though, it was usually Julian and Seth who tackled the tasks head-on. They took charge of assignments and worked through them together, often needing
to persuade Kyle to join in. Conflicts usually surfaced when
Kyle resisted, but back then, disagreements were resolved in their own way.

“Kyle bit me — twice,” Seth said.

“I don’t remember why, but I bit him at school, after recess. Then at church too. I think I just didn’t know what to do, so I went — ” Kyle snapped his teeth.

“He went feral,” Seth said. “He was like a zombie. I never knew he had it in him.”

“He latched on,” Julian said.

“No, no, no, I just bit him. I’m not a pit bull,” Kyle said.

Future Dreams and Realities

The conversation turned, as it sometimes does, to their futures. For Julian, the question of what lies ahead has shifted, as it often does for those nearing adulthood. Born in Alaminos City, Pangasinan, Philippines, and moving to Lāna‘i when he was three years old, he once imagined studying at UH Maui then returning to the Philippines after graduation, reconnecting with family, and possibly settling there. But over time, his vision changed.

Julian now plans to attend a community college on O‘ahu to study auto mechanics, a field he’s been interested in for years. He sees O‘ahu as a place to grow, live, and work while pursuing his education — a step closer to independence while still remaining tied to Hawai‘i.

For Kyle, the future involves joining the United States Air Force, a decision he’s actively preparing for by meeting with recruiters and attending presentations on military careers.

Kyle is drawn to the Air Force’s technical fields, particularly cybersecurity and coding — interests he’s developed through AP Computer Science, coding club, and robotics during his high school and middle school years.

Seth’s aspirations are rooted in faith and a deep connection to the Catholic Church, a bond that began in childhood. He grew up attending Sacred Hearts Church with his grandmother, Martha, who was a steady and guiding presence in his early life. She brought him to every Sunday Mass even though Seth initially participated reluctantly. When she moved to the Big Island during his early high school years, Seth stopped going to church for a few months. Her absence left an unexpected void in his routine and sense of purpose.

The turning point came when Seth realized something was missing — not just his grandmother’s presence but the sound of the church bell. “Before Mass started at 6:00 a.m., I’d ring the bell at 5:45 a.m. When I stopped going, I don’t think they rang it anymore, but I could still hear it in my mind,” Seth said. Feeling a growing emptiness, he began attending Mass again.

During Father Rico’s tenure, Seth’s involvement in Sacred Hearts Church deepened, beginning with small tasks like operating slideshow presentations for hymns. Over time, his responsibilities grew as he began attending daily Mass, and started arriving early to help open the church. “I’d be there at 5:30 in the morning, waiting outside until Aunty Dorothy [Ozoa] came to unlock the doors,” Seth said. “Later, I was trained to open the church by myself, mostly by watching and learning.” 

Now an integral part of the church, Seth takes on a wide range of duties as a sacristan and organizer of the weekly bulletin. “I’m in the choir, I also play piano, and I’m an altar server too — that’s almost every day for the weekdays. And then I read sometimes. I put our collection money in the bag and then put it in the vault. And then food distribution from the food pantry as well,” he said.

His reliability doesn’t go unnoticed. One weekend, when he was sick and unable to attend the 7:00 a.m. Mass, the doors remained closed, and nothing was prepared. Parishioners reached out to check on him. “When I woke up, I had a bunch of messages, calls, asking where I was,” Seth said. “That made me feel like they cared about me, which was nice.”

Now, Seth is preparing to formalize his intent to enter the seminary. He plans to pursue a program at either Mount Angel Seminary in Oregon or St. Patrick’s Seminary in California, both of which offer comprehensive training in philosophy, theology and pastoral ministry. His ultimate aspiration is to return to Lāna‘i as a priest and hold his first Mass in the community that shaped him.

Hair and Sports

Among the trio, Seth’s hair is a frequent topic of conversation. His signature “grandma hairstyle,” as he calls it, is a constant source of debate.

“It’s a classic ’70s afro,” Julian said.

Seth shook his head in disagreement. “It’s just round,” he said. 

“I saw your hair from a mile away during the fire drill last week. And I could tell. Oh, that’s Seth,” Kyle said.

 “Grandmas have round hair like this,” Seth said defensively.

With his height and signature hairstyle, Seth has the look of a basketball player. On the court, though, his energy disappears entirely. “He moves like a slug — or literally lies on the ground staring at the sky,” Julian said. 

As the most athletic of the three — not that the competition is stiff, with Seth and Kyle steering far from sports — Julian stands out. He’s played baseball since freshman year and recently joined the varsity basketball team as a point guard. Still, his friends don’t show up to cheer him on.

“You don’t come to watch my games,” Julian said.

Kyle shrugged. “I don’t understand what’s happening. And I gotta pay to get in, so …”

“I’d rather do something else,” Seth added bluntly. “The sports, it’s confusing.”

“You could show up at least once,” Julian said.

Kyle waved the suggestion off. “I would come, but I have no idea what I’m watching. You’re out there, just standing there, and then suddenly there’s somebody running randomly.”

Julian let their excuses drift past him, much like he always does, neither surprised nor particularly bothered.

Before It All Ends

Planted in the late 1980s, the monkeypod tree has watched the nearby archery range vanish and the blue-painted workout stations rust away. The wooden cabins once hidden in the brush have long since disintegrated back into the earth. These remnants of the past are unknown to the boys, but their time together too will one day become another memory the tree holds.

For Kyle, the changes ahead bring a “rush full of emotions” he struggles to put into words. “One is excitement, one is, like, nostalgia,” he said. He sprawled back on the grass, staring up at the branches above. “I think I’m feeling, like, kind of sad that it’s … it’s almost over.” Kyle sat up with exaggerated effort. “Yeah. I’m feeling old.”

Julian looked down, tracing patterns in the shade cast by the tree’s arched branches, his expression thoughtful but reserved. “It’s going to feel very sad because you’ll have your path, and I’ll have mine. Very different,” he said. Though Julian often guards his emotions, the weight of his words lingered. “But hopefully, we can still keep in contact with each other.”

The thought of change moves Seth to contemplate its meaning. “I have moments of silence where I can reflect ... take time to look at things and reminisce about what we used to do when we were younger and how it will be different when we go. In a year’s time, it’s going to change,” he said.

But wherever life takes them, and whatever unfolds along the way, in a fixed corner of time, three boys will always be there — beneath “The Tree,” vegging on a tangle of blankets, opening the sacristy door, or bracing on the edge of a baseball field.

Seth glanced at his friends, breaking the momentary pause. “How do you think we’ll be at our 20-year reunion?”

“Erm … like, who’s this old man with an afro?” Kyle replied.

“Why? Why you do this to me?!” Seth said, slipping back into his signature slurry-baby voice.

“Someone go get their grandma,” Julian added.

“Yeah, really, why is the Pope here?” Kyle laughed.