Remarkable Kupuna Archives

Remarkable Kupuna

“Remarkable Kūpuna” celebrates the elders who make Hawaiʻi’s communities stronger. Each profile highlights the passion and purpose that keep them engaged, and inspires readers to nurture their own brain health at every age.

the unstoppable joyce fujimoto

Remarkable Kupuna

After a devastating accident, and a pandemic that derailed her recovery, this O’ahu woman chose movement, connection, and joy.

Joyce Fujimoto catching a ball

There is a garden on O’ahu that makes strangers stop walking. Passersby slow down, lean in, and linger. They are drawn by the orchids, the vegetables, the flowers so carefully tended that you can’t help but to stop and admire. That garden belongs to Joyce Fujimoto and her husband Richard. And like Joyce herself, it is a testament to what happens when you simply refuse to give up.

Joyce is 83 years old, of Okinawan descent, and living proof that resilience is not a personality trait you’re born with. It’s something you practice, day after day, often in spite of tremendous pain.

the accident

In 2019, Joyce traveled to San Francisco for the World Buddhist Women’s Convention, a gathering that takes place just once every four years. On her way home to Hawai’i, while waiting at the luggage carousel, another passenger rushed to grab his suitcase. It swung. In one careless moment, Joyce was knocked backwards and left with a fractured left leg, dislocated jaw, and several teeth cracked or missing.

The physical toll was immense. Surgeons placed a titanium rod in her leg, which now occasionally raises flags at TSA checkpoints. Its shape inside her hip socket, she laughs, looks suspiciously like a rifle on the scanner. But what truly broke Joyce’s heart was something smaller, quieter.

“I used to whistle to attract birds to my garden. I learned it from my grandfather. After the accident, I couldn’t anymore. That still makes me sad.”

She couldn’t laugh, couldn’t whistle, couldn’t sing. The accident stole small joys she had never thought to count until they were gone.

Then COVID arrived. Rehabilitation hospitals pivoted to handle the surge of patients. Joyce was sent home before she was ready. She was unable to climb the stairs in her home, and she was cut off from the in-person therapy her recovery needed. Online sessions filled the gap inadequately. She never fully healed.

Pain became a constant companion. But rather than surrender to it, Joyce listened to her doctor’s straightforward advice: walk. So she walks. She rises before the sun for an early morning walk. She also walks a mile down the hill to do her shopping, cane in hand on uneven ground or when the wind picks up.

“If I wasn’t moving, I would be in more pain.”

Her doctor once shared a piece of wisdom that has stayed with her through everything: if you take care of the land, the land will take care of you. Joyce has lived that truth in her garden and in her body; tending both with the same patient, steady devotion.

a week in the life

What does brain-healthy living actually look like? For Joyce, it looks like an early morning sunrise walk. It looks like ukulele chords drifting across a park in Waikele. It looks like a Mahjong tile clicked down on a table at the senior center on a Tuesday morning, after waking at 4 a.m. to get ready.

Joyce’s weekly routine touches every pillar of brain health, not by design, but by instinct.

Joyce playing on the SMARTfit machine during a Brain Power class.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, Joyce attends brain matters’ Brain Power class at Mo’ili’ili Hongwanji Temple. “The Brain Power class works on my mind and body,” she explains. “I’ve never done the activities before. I really enjoy the class, and I’m using muscles I don’t normally use, so I’m getting tremendous benefit.”

Wednesdays find her in Waikele, where she meets friends for a 45-minute walk through the park before settling in to play ukulele together. This summer, she’ll be teaching Mahjong – yet another way she’ll be engaging her brain.

Her kitchen reflects the same intention as her garden. Stir fries loaded with vegetables, and seasoned with anti-inflammatory turmeric and ginger. She still cooks some Okinawan recipes passed down through generations. For Joyce, food is medicine.

what Joyce wants you to know

Joyce is not out here running marathons. She uses a cane. She has a titanium rod in her leg. She lives with chronic pain. She has never fully recovered from an accident that happened in a busy airport when she was simply trying to come home.

And yet, she is out the door before sunrise. She is at the table, playing tiles. She is strumming chords in a park with friends.

Movement, for Joyce, is not a fitness goal. It’s a negotiation with pain, and a refusal to let pain win. Every step is a choice. Every ukulele lesson is a choice. Every hand of Mahjong is a choice to stay present, stay connected, stay sharp.

Her garden stops strangers in their tracks. So does she…if you’re paying attention.

take the Joyce challenge: add 500 steps today

Joyce walks a mile to the store with a titanium rod in her leg, using a cane. Pain is a constant companion. And yet she logs close to 10,000 steps on many days. You don’t have to match her. You just have to start. Here are a few easy ways to sneak more steps into your day:

Park at the far end of the lot. Every row counts!
Instead of sitting during commercials, get up and walk around the house
Walk to a neighbor’s door instead of sending a text
Add a 10-minute stroll after dinner. It benefits your blood sugar and your brain
Walk while you talk: Take your next phone call on foot

Check your step count right now. Whatever your daily average is, add 500 steps tomorrow. Not 5,000. Just 500. Then do it again the next day. Joyce didn’t start at 10,000 steps. She started by walking out the front door.

finding light in the long goodbye

Remarkable Kupuna

There is a particular kind of loneliness that comes from loving someone who is still here. Tony Vericella knows it well. He has lived inside it for nearly eight years, ever since his wife Dana was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s in the fall of 2018. But out of that loneliness, he has built something that has reached thousands of families across Hawaiʻi and beyond.

Tony and Dana met at a backyard barbecue in Los Angeles in September 1976. They married, here on O’ahu, four years later and this September marks 46 years of marriage. For most of those decades, life was full in familiar ways: raising their triplets; building successful careers in their respective fields; traveling with friends; trying new restaurants; hosting elaborate holiday dinners that showcased Dana’s gifts as a cook and baker. It was, by Tony’s own account, a rich and busy life.

Then he began noticing changes. Dana, always precise about where things belonged, began misplacing objects that mattered to her.

She’d call, disoriented, from a route she had driven hundreds of times. Tony recognized the pattern immediately. He had watched it unfold once before, in his mother, who lived with Alzheimer’s for 14 years before she passed. Recognition didn’t make the diagnosis any easier to hear. “Anger, fear,

frustration,” he says of that day. “What are we actually going to do about this?”

the hardest years

The years that followed tested him in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Dana became combative, verbally and physically, as the disease progressed, and Tony stepped away from his career to care for her full-time.

Tony and Dana on the Amalfi Coast In 2019, they left their Honolulu condo for the Big Island, moving closer to family who could help share the weight of it.

Before the move, they allowed themselves one last journey together, to the Amalfi Coast, understanding it might be their final trip abroad.

He describes this stage with a kind of hard-won honesty: it is, in some ways, calmer than what came before. There is no more fighting against what needs to be done, but it carries its own ache. The uncertainty of not knowing how many years remain. The quiet accounting of all the plans that will now go unrealized. “You wonder,” he says, “if this is going to be your life for the next ten or more years.”

turning pain into purpose

Rather than let that uncertainty hollow him out, Tony turned toward it. In 2022, frustrated by how scattered and overwhelming caregiving information was — exactly when a person has the least capacity to sift through it — he began collecting and organizing what he had learned into short, usable pieces. He reached out to contacts at Hawai’i News Now to help produce brief videos for caregivers who don’t have time for long videos or articles. On Tony and Dana’s anniversary, September 21, 2023, Alzheimer’s Caregiving & The Caregivers was launched.

As Tony was preparing the launch, he learned the date also happened to be World Alzheimer’s Day.

Tony’s message is clear: everyone knows someone touched by dementia, and no one should have to search for help the way he once did, nor be alone on their journey.

He is candid, too, about what has been lost: the holidays, the shared decision-making, the intimacy, the small daily companionship that goes unnoticed until it’s gone.

“You’re around people all the time,” he says, “but it’s a very lonely existence.”

He allows himself moments of sadness, sitting with Dana, before purposefully returning to whatever comes next. He has learned, with his children’s support, to step away occasionally to rest, understanding that his ability to care for Dana depends on caring for himself too.

a compass for him and for others

Tony often returns to two things that remind him to meet Dana with patience rather than frustration: messages of hope, support and inspiration, as well as a poem, written from the perspective of a spouse living with dementia. Both are provided on the website with the hope that other caregivers will find comfort in these words. Tony understands that Dana feels his tone and energy even when words no longer reach her. The poem has become something of a compass for him, a way of choosing presence over despair.

To caregivers just beginning this road, Tony offers what he’s learned the hard way: the frustration, the guilt, the exhaustion, the grief for a life you thought you’d have — all of it is normal, and none of it makes you a bad caregiver. Ask for help before you think you need it. Build a team, even a small one, so you’re never carrying this alone. And take the respite when it’s offered, because you cannot pour from an empty cup. “We’ve got to make something positive out of this,” he says. And for thousands of caregivers across Hawaiʻi and beyond who now have a place to turn, he already has.

are you a caregiver or know one who is?

Alzheimer’s Caregiving & The Caregivers provides Caregiver Kits, both physical and digital, for free to families who need something tangible to hold onto in the hardest moments.