Maya Angelou

An inspiring woman on many levels. I met her once...

It was September of 1979, and I was on my one and only East Coast Grateful Dead tour. In a week's time, I saw shows in Glens Falls, N.Y., Rochester, N.Y., Augusta, ME., and then 3 nights at Madison Square Garden. (Ah, youth!)

My friends and I had just seen the final MSG concert. We had been staying with a deadhead friend in Manhattan. He wanted to drag us California kids to Greenwich Village for our first egg cream. We happily complied, and were soon chattering excitedly at a busy joint in the village. It had been lots of fun for all in the big apple, but we were ready to go home. As we verbalized our homesick thoughts, a woman in the booth next to us turned around and with the most beautiful smile said: "Oooh, I love San Francisco!" We then all conversed about the many things we loved about that city by the bay.

There were introductions at some point... And when she said her name was Maya Angelou, I was electrified-and not just because I had just seen my favorite psychedelic band kick ass at the Garden!

Being a big reader and wannabe poet, I immediately recognized her name. Not so sure whether the deadhead dudes I was with understood my giddiness or the prowess of this woman. I most certainly did! I've never forgotten her warm smile and kindred words. Thanks for inspiring, always, Ms. Angelou.

More than a decade later, I was at home in La Selva Beach with my 7-month old daughter, watching the inauguration of William Jefferson Clinton on t.v.  It was a celebratory time. I had worked for his campaign in my precinct, and life felt pretty damned hopeful. As I sat with my nursing daughter, watching Maya Angelou read her now-famous innaugural poem, tears of joy streamed down my face and onto my brand-new child. I will never forget that memory. The poem was published in small paperback form and I promptly purchased one for myself and one for my father, who also loved words and was hopeful about our newly-elected president. I still have mine, of course. Hoping to read the poem aloud to Glen later, when he is home from work. (He was forewarned, HA!)

Maya Angelou shares this date with my father. Today marks two years since he departed, leaving an emotional crevasse I am just beginning to understand. I mourn what was... And even more so, what was not.

Here's more about her San Francisco ties: 

http://blog.sfgate.com/stew/2014/05/28/maya-angelous-san-francisco-connections/

1,095 Days On

Three years ago today, we left the golden state, the state in which we both were born and bred, for our new home on the Big Island.

The desire to do so began in earnest in 2006, when we stayed with Glen's father and step mother in Papaikou, north of Hilo. Prior to that, I fell for this big rock when I spent a month with friends in Puna. That was 1984. A group of folks I knew at Lake Tahoe had relocated and I was eager to check it out.  While here, both Kilauea and Mauna Loa erupting at the same time. That was pretty cool. 

When Glen first found this place on the interwebs in 2010, I knew there would be no going back. He was a man possessed, and I believed in his dream. Even when it looked like we might not pull it off, he remained calm and patient. We invested damn near everything we had to buy this place. Leaving us less "leftover" than we had hoped, but also freeing us from a gigantic mortgage payment. (Ours is about $530.00 a month.) Which is crazy, since I was paying twice that for rent more than 20 years ago. 

We have saved many thousands of dollars in electric and water bills, since we are off-grid. Plentiful power and abundant, clean water. Never an issue or problem with our solar or catchment in 3 years. Our overhead is minimal, when compared to our former life in California.

I spend most days barefoot-all day. I wander these almost-4 acres, planting, weeding, cutting, pruning. There are never-ending tasks, so boredom is not an option. Glen has found some truly optimal employment opportunities in the last few months. So much so that he could work 7 days a week, were he so inclined. I won't lie-I am loving this lady of leisure stuff. I worked most of my life, both at paid jobs and then there were those 30 years of parenting, some of them as a single mother. This is new territory. My time is mine-time for reading, writing, working on projects, and I'm even learning the fine art of napping. I still take a shift subbing at the library, whenever I am asked. My caretaking job was a nice thing, but that wrapped up last summer, when the client got considerably better, which was the obvious goal. (She has Lyme disease.) Still, I am not scrambling to find something else, nor am I pressured or the least bit guilt-ridden about  it. 

I miss my kids and a few close friends, but I could not live in California again. It's sad, but at least I got to appreciate it while it was more affordable and much less populated. I think I can safely say that my kids won't last there too much longer. None of them work in tech or own start-ups, and they are being squeezed out by those who do. This makes for a hamster-in-a-wheel existence. Whenever they're ready, this is their home too.

Tonight, we celebrate our perseverance and three years in this beautiful place. And we'll toast the guy who helped make it possible, Glen's father. He would most certainly be proud of what we have done here so far.

Flashback Friday

Pescadero, California 1981

Cedar Ridge 1997

The girl in the middle (and my middle child) sent this today... Her siblings--the other two kids in this photo-- will ~both~ celebrate their birthdays on Wednesday. My son will be 31 and my youngest will be 21. No matter how many decades pass, I still smile about giving birth on the same date. Twice.

I won't be celebrating with them this year, but they'll all be together in San Francisco. This photo was taken when we all resided in the hills above Twain Harte, California.

Way Back

Carmel Beach
A March afternoon in 1982
Eight months pregnant
That dude is
Rickey Bewa from Chickasaw
My husband took the photo
When we were nuts
for black and white
Or just nuts

My "Baby"

The only thing that's tough about living here in paradise is missing my "kids."
They're all in Northern California and are good at being independent. Which is what any parent hopes for, naturally.

So much of what we are striving to achieve here will hopefully be theirs to continue in the future. And though none of them are ready to abandon life on the mainland yet, they know that this place is here for them when they want to participate. It's our legacy, and will be theirs, too.

My youngest child sent me this photo today. It was taken in 2007, when she was still in high school. That kitten is our now-six year old cat, Tatiana. The one that came with us when we left Mendocino.

This child of mine has come a LONG way since her very turbulent and often painful adolescence. (Some of it chronicled on this blog.) So has our relationship, which was quite strained for a stretch. Because everything changes, always.

STFU

What a sad day for California. I am SO over this state. And hate.

Why cant we live together - Sade

Not Quite Wordless Wednesday

Melting house in Mendocino. I read today that it is scheduled for demolition, so I went and took a few pictures. I have wanted to for quite a while. Nobody has lived in it since 1950. It represents a long-gone era here. One of lumber mills and a town full of mill workers. Now replaced by wealthy tourists.

Go Moonbeam!!

A Most Unique Official Governor's Portrait Of Jerry Brown, by artist Don Bachardy

Way back in 1974, before many relocated themselves to this now-crowded and abused state, California's present Attorney General was elected Governor. His father, Pat Brown governed California for most of the 1960's.

But Jerry Brown was not your average governor. He opposed the Vietnam war, supported migrant laborers, and fought big oil before it was cool. He chose to live in an apartment near the state capitol, and never moved into the governor's mansion. He dated Linda Ronstadt, and appointed poet Gary Snyder to California's art council. Many governmental stuffed shirts found him odd, which he was. Conservatives decided that he was so odd, they labeled him "Governor Moonbeam." Jerry Brown was also the mayor of Oakland, in between being our governor and attorney general. He lost several bids for the presidency. He made some bad decisions and shady deals. In other words, typical politics.

Yesterday, I fell in love with Jerry all over again. He stepped up and stood up to Proposition 8, and seeks to overturn it! It was anticipated that he would go along with the November 4th decision, and instead he blew everyone's minds. Repeat after me: "Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness." Thanks, Moonbeam. Brown asks state's high court to overturn Prop 8

Walking on the Moon - The Police

Seashore Washed By the Suds and the Foam...

Taken on Tuesday. A glorious day to walk the beach. Everything makes perfect sense there. Sort of like a sweet version of St. Stephen. (Hollywood Palladium/8-6-71)

Ancestry

I stumbled upon this some time ago. A picture of my grandmother's grandparent's house. That young child to the right may well be my great-grandfather, Hazelton. Strange, looking at where you're from. And by from I refer to those that preceded us. In all their oil baron glory. Sigh.

Notice the lush plant life around their home. A few short years prior to this, it was still your basic desert. This was before the brilliant idea of damming our great rivers, like the (once) mighty Sacramento, and sending water south. To places like Bakersfield, which had recently become a boomtown. People like my great-great grandfather settled here and reaped the benefits of the oil that oozed beneath his feet. To me, this is California's tragic legacy... it's beauty and resources are it's very undoing.

Title:

Blodget residence

Creator:

Watkins, Carleton E., 1829-1916.

Subject:

Kern County (Calif.) -- Photographs

Description:

Blodget residence in Bakersfield, man and two women and two children on the porch, another man leans against the stair post.

Publisher:

Kern County Library

Date:

[1889]

Identifier:

kew0032

Relation:

San Joaquin Valley Digitization Project

Beale Memorial Library Local History Room (Bakersfield, Calif.)

Rights:

This image is being made available for educational and research purposes only, under the “fair use” clause of the U.S. Copyright Law (Title 17 § 107 U.S.C.) Further questions regarding the image or its use may be directed to the Beale Memorial Library, Local History Room, 701 Truxtun Ave., Bakersfield, CA 93301; phone 661-868-0776.

Collection:

San Joaquin Valley & Sierra Foothills Photo Heritage

Contributing Institution:

San Joaquin Valley Library System

Third Stone From The Sun

Carleton Watkins~Solar Eclipse, 1889

Roots & Vines

Thompson Seedless Grapes
Carleton E. Watkins
Kern County, California, 1880
Albumen silver print

My paternal great-great grandfather arrived in Bakersfield, California in 1875. He'd come to Bakersfield from Windsor, California. The beginning of his life was spent in Sugar Hill, Pennsylvania.

Why did he go to Bakersfield? Unfortunately, it wasn't to grow grapes. He got into the oil business, and thrived. (Uncool, I know.)

I know a lot about him as well as that branch of my family, thanks to a book written by my first cousin. It was an amazing time in the history of my family and the state.

Carleton Watkins, who took the above photo, also took a picture of the house great-great granddad built. He documented much of this state in it's early years. I will post that picture before long. And maybe some stories of my family's travails.

My dad went and saw There Will Be Blood a few weeks ago, and sent me an enthusiastic email. He noted that our family name is mentioned in the film, and that there are Bakersfield scenes, although it was filmed primarily in Texas. In reading about the production of the movie, I learned this:

"Originally, Paul Thomas Anderson had been working on a screenplay about two fighting families. He struggled with the script and soon realized it just wasn't working.Homesick, he purchased a copy of Upton Sinclair's Oil! in London and was immediately drawn to the cover illustration of a California oilfield. As he read, Anderson became even more fascinated with the novel and adapted the first 150 pages to a screenplay. He began to get a real sense of where his script was going after making countless trips to museums dedicated to early oilmen in Bakersfield"


...To be continued

Daydream

Hauula, Hawaii

It's cold in California. Clear, sunny, and icy cold. Nothing like the ice storms across the country, but chilly just the same. My Aiko sister sent me a few photos of her locale. This one warmed me right up. Whenever it all overwhelms, I imagine being in the islands again. I miss it terribly. 2.5 years to go, and we can leave California. There are few Californians left here. Everyone is from someplace else. We may as well jump on the transplant bandwagon and go be outsiders in Hawaii. People smile more there. Come on, 2010!

Time Lapse

The other day, I posted this photo:

(Taken in early 2003)

Photo: Aiko Jim

Yesterday, I took a photo of that very same property:

Time marches on. That's the good and the bad news, I guess.

Kelly Street

Photo:Aiko Jim/2003

They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.

Andy Warhol

Love Is The Seventh Wave

Taken at Big River Beach/Mendocino Coast/Thanks again to my trusty co-worker.

Laura 1896

This arrived in my email today. It is my great-grandmother at twenty-three, in Sacramento, CA. I love to get these gray glimpses of what came before me, here in this ever-changing state of my birth. And... I like her swirly hair.