Drinking Beer for the Homeless in Kailua

You’ll feel good about yourself at Kailua’s newest craft beer tasting room — until you meet the owners.

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Tim and Holly Veling, Owners of Grace in Growlers in Kailua

Holly Veling feeds a worn twenty-dollar bill into the change machine, and I can hear the clinking as the quarters start to come out. It sounds like a casino, and in that moment, it makes a lot of sense to me, because for those that have come here seeking help, it is indeed the sound of a jackpot.

Holly and her husband Tim, along with a few other volunteers, are hanging out at a Kāne‘ohe laundromat for a few hours on a Saturday, paying for anyone who walks through the door. The outreach is an arm of the Veling’s Windwardside nonprofit, the ONEninetynine Initiative.

But to say it like that is a little bit misleading, because it insinuates that there’s something behind the curtain, that it’s not just Holly and Tim, choosing to spend their time at a laundromat, trying to help people who might not be able to afford to wash their clothes.

Most who show up are homeless. I can see clearly that Holly knows them all as she greets many of them with a hug. I take a bag of quarters and begin to load them into one of the washing machines. Having not been to a laundromat here, I was surprised at how expensive it was: Three bucks for a single load, then another three for the dryer. For someone struggling, I can understand why the stream or a public sink might start to seem like a more practical option.

Though their philanthropic efforts began well before, the Velings made them official three years ago when they registered as the ONEninetynine Initiative. At first, they raised funds by driving around the island and picking up large quantities of recycling from bars and restaurants, which they would then cash in. It was a good way to do double duty, to raise money and to recycle at the same time.

But the Velings always had their sights set on something bigger, something that could cement itself as part of the Kailua community and become a solid source of continuous funding for their nonprofit programs, like “Laundry Love” here today.

Something like a craft beer tasting room.

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Here, Grace Comes in a Growler

Tim and Holly’s idea was to pair the nonprofit efforts of their ONEninetynine Initiative with a for-profit business that would in turn fund the nonprofit (essentially rendering the for-profit a nonprofit itself, at least in theory if not by law).

“We didn’t want to be that nonprofit that’s asking for money all the time,” Tim said. “We wanted to be self-sustaining.”

While sitting at a packed bar one afternoon, the couple realized that the craft beer craze could be a bridge between their organization and the community. They envisioned a tasting room where local beers could be tried, where you were free to bring food and sit around and play games.

That was 2013. Last fall in October, Grace in Growlers opened on Hekili Street. The Velings’ decision and timing to open a tasting room was impeccable from a craft beer perspective, as O‘ahu is currently in the midst of a renaissance. In 2013, there were no functioning craft breweries on the island. Today, the number is approaching ten, and interest is booming.

The Grace in Growlers tasting room has 13 craft beers on tap that are constantly rotated as well as wine and local Sky Kombucha (Waimānalo) for a non-alcoholic option. It is decked out with recycled materials and carries what Tim describes as an “accidental school feel,” with wooden doors repurposed as tables, used lockers for coat and game storage, and old classroom desks and milk crates as seats.

The complete blueprint for Grace in Growlers, in addition to selling pints, is to also sell growlers of beer to-go, hence the (great) name. But selling beer for takeaway requires a separate liquor license, and Tim said it will be a few months until they receive the permit.

I’m sure it’s frustrating for the Velings, but to me, it’s a blessing in disguise. With the option for carryout absent, there’s no trace of transience. Instead, the place feels like a neighborhood pub, with people enjoying pints of beer, bringing their own food, sitting down with friends around a board game. There’s a sense of community. Tim said that several patrons have already volunteered their time to the ONEninetynine Initiative after chatting with him and hearing the story behind the tasting room.

“Sometimes people [we meet here at the tasting room] will come on a Saturday to help with our laundry service [Laundry Love], and then they’re back in here drinking beer again the next night,” Tim said. “Which is the most amazing thing. It’s exactly what we’re trying to do here.”

Text Message to the Homeless

For the sake of transparency and good faith in its efforts, there is a 36-ounce limit per visit per customer at Grace in Growlers. It is also one of the 100+ establishments statewide to operate without foam and plastic as part of the Surfrider’s Ocean Friendly Restaurants program.

“We don’t want to be that business that gets everyone drunk in the name of supporting a good cause,” Tim said.

During the days leading up to each Laundry Love event, Tim and Holly send out a text message to the homeless community with the location and time of the service, and their generosity has developed a regular following. Holly hugs another woman as she walks in, then brings out a chart and makes a note to order new shoes for her. As I watch them work, I begin to question my own path. Tim and Holly are the kind of people who can do that to you, make you stop in your tracks and wonder, am I doing enough good with my own life?

For me, the answer is probably not. But thanks to them, I at least now have a place to go for a beer, a place to go when I’m looking to feel better about myself.

As Weird as It Gets: Ice Skating in Hawai‘i

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The Ice Palace west of Honolulu is Hawai‘i’s only ice skating rink. It opened in 1982 and holds open skates multiple times per week.

It’s noon on a rainy Thursday when I pull into the parking lot. At this point, I’m still not sure whether or not I’m going to skate. I really just want to check it out, to have a look around and see who’s there and what’s happening. An open skate in the middle of the week, at an ice rink in Hawai‘i, seems beyond my wildest imagination.

I arrive to find that snooping around the Ice Palace is not possible. The rink is like a movie theater in that there’s a ticket booth outside, and you can’t go inside unless you pay — the doors are even frosted over with fake frost so you can’t see inside. This drives my curiosity to new, insane heights. Who the hell is in there?

I fork over the $10 entrance fee and am happy to find out that it includes a skate rental. As I reach for the door handle, I’m excited to pull back the curtain on this place. But I make it only a few steps inside before turning back. The temperature is kept at 50 degrees, and stepping through the doors in flip flops is a rude awakening. I’m not sure what I was thinking. I go back to my car for a sweater and socks.

When I return and finally get a glimpse of the ice, my suspicions are confirmed: There is no one on it. Suddenly, it feels like I’m transported back to a grade-school roller rink party. In front of me, a worker preps the snack bar — nachos, soft pretzels, and pizza. Beyond him, the arcade games are all turned off, presumably because no one is here in the middle of the day.

I can feel the staff staring at me. As curious as I am about the place, they are just as curious about me. I put it out of my mind as I rent and lace up the skates. I’m sitting on one of those round, plastic cafeteria-style seats when the unthinkable happens — the type of thing that only happens in movies. As I finish lacing up, a song comes blaring over the speakers. It’s Amazed by Lone Star. The rink is absolutely empty, and I’m standing up on skates for the first time in ten years. There would be other love ballads played throughout the afternoon, but none more memorable than this one, at the start of my skate on an empty rink.

I’m timid as I step out on the ice. My hands are in my pockets to stay warm. I slowly coast along the side of the rink near the boards. I feel more comfortable after a few laps, and I start to have fun. It’s basically a private rink, and it’s not often you get cold cheeks in Hawai‘i. I can’t help but feel amusingly counter culture.

Later, a woman comes out. She looks like a pro, doing spins and swirls. I make up her backstory as I take laps — a former figure-skating star, banished to hot-weather Hawai‘i and mid-week open skates. Then, a group of guys in their twenties, part of a construction team on their lunch break, join us on the ice. They’re having a ball, and, like me, seem to view the experience as something to joke about, like they can’t believe they’re doing it. We instantly bond over it, flashing grins as we pass, our legs wobbly.

We continue to skate as a group until two of us make eye contact during Selena’s Dreaming of You and I decide it’s time to leave.