Commentary: The sun soothes the soul but harms the skin

It amazes me that, despite available knowledge about sun damage, people still get sunburned. And especially despite warnings that most sunscreens don’t meet their promised SPFs.

So what if I was the only person on Waikiki wearing a sweatshirt and jeans? I got to do what I wanted, which was sit in the shade of a palm tree, sipping an occasional umbrella drink and reading. Having hours on end to read is a luxury for me, and doing it with the aquamarine ocean in front of me and Diamond Head to my left, no wonder they call Hawaii paradise.

I know it’s not everyone’s vision of paradise. For instance, when my mother, in her 70s, came back from her first trip to Hawaii, I asked if she’d had a good time.

“They put teriyaki sauce on everything,” she said.

My mother wanted to travel, but my father did not. She went with a seniors group to Hawaii and also to Europe.

“How’d you like Europe?” I asked.

“It was old and dirty,” she said.

I’m ecstatic that Lee and I started traveling before Mother did or I might have stayed home.

Lee and I traveled almost everywhere. It was such a privilege and, for us, a pleasure. Although we almost never argued, we fought when we traveled. Eventually, I identified that we had different expectations when we left home.

Lee looked forward to a vacation, getting away from work and phones, relaxing.

I looked forward to a trip, going and seeing and doing, and rush, rush, rush to cram in everything.

Cruising was the perfect compromise. Lee would go on excursions with me, and the rest of the time, he could relax, while I could take a class on how to play the ukulele (or whatever).

For me, relaxing had been a foreign concept. I suppose it’s my “guilt-unless-multi-tasking” personality. Lee mono-tasked.

We visited Hawaii frequently. Once we’d finished sight-seeing, I became able to relax there. While Lee did crossword puzzles in the palm shade, I could read by his side.

I don’t travel as much now, but I had a craving to go to Hawaii to get away from being myself. Daughters Jan and Cheryl didn’t want to go to Hawaii. Best friend at work Marian didn’t want to go. But Maura, my friend who is younger by 20-plus years, was eager to go.

She was a perfect travel companion. Neither of us felt like sight-seeing. We spent six days on Waikiki, laughing and chatting, eating or shopping, and — except for attending a luau and visiting a friend at Uncle Bo’s — just relaxing.

Maura, a water-baby, wanted to spend time in the ocean, and that’s what she did. I, covered from chin to toes, enjoyed the ocean air, reading and watching people sunburn.

I haven’t worn a bathing suit since I was in my 30s. I quit sunbathing cold turkey when I learned about the hole in the ozone layer, the danger of skin cancer from sun exposure, and the particular susceptibility for the fair-haired, blue-eyed of Eastern European descent. The clincher was the high risk for those who had experienced frequent sunburns in their youth.

I had been a beach bunny. Each summer, the one to get the first sunburn won. Although I was of the baby-oil-and-Mercurochrome generation, I needed no help. I just won.

“Don’t touch me. I’m sunburned!” That was bragging! Ah, youth!

And to show, for that carefree era, I have a heap o’ brown spots.

Yet, for wising up 40 years ago, I have no skin cancer. Ah, maturity!

And that takes me back to Waikiki, and to my friend Maura, who has beautiful Irish skin. Who slathered on a top-rated sunscreen regularly. Who enjoyed the beautiful Pacific “like a porpoise.” Who got one heck of a sunburn.

Author LIZ SWIERTZ NEWMAN lives in Corona del Mar.