Fare You Well

This past week Cailin finished up her tour of duty at our shared place of work. This last round has lasted nearly 15 months, with an earlier go of 10 months previously. It's been a nice situation getting to know my niece as an adult and to witness her flourish in social settings of her own. My own time would have been a lonely stay without her- especially after my gang of friends dispersed from our SF office. To a new company called Ticketfly she goes, with great promise and hope. Her first job in which tomorrow is not just another day. Thank you and all my best wishes as you follow your path.

Sincerely,
Uncle Brian

Faith

When I was ten I had a great friendship. Admittedly we did things that I wouldn't be happy with my boys doing today but we weren't alone in making the mistakes; we were together. Learning together, in mischief together. It's wrong to steal. Do not drop live turtles down your pants only because you have the shop keeper distracted. It's wrong to swear without meaning or with malice in your heart. We did not have the malice and we didn't have the meaning either. It was just fun to smash as many curse words together in one sentence and run down the school hallways. It's wrong to play with matches despite the appeal of fire and light. Do not set your school bathroom on fire. We watched Sesame Street in its first season and during commercial breaks rode my mother's ironing board down the stairs.

The next year, my friend went to a different school but we would still have time together- to play on the weekends and for years to come. Only as life does, it didn't work out this way. Instead when I called or when G called me, he would ask a question that I was completely incapable of answering. With a seriousness bordering on an interrogation, he would ask about my feelings about God. Our friendship could go no further unless I told him. He was insistent and I was consistently puzzled. I did not know what to say. Looking back now, I can understand some of what he was feeling in relation to everything that was occurring in his household. I can understand the importance to be on the same path with someone you care about. I didn't have a path yet- I was just looking for laughs and being a stupid kid. I'm still looking for laughs.

We drifted apart. A phone call here and there but distant, in different time zones. It may have been six years later napping in my cold room in the garage when my mother woke me up to say that G was upstairs with his mother. Feeling half asleep-dreaming?- my mother had to come back down to tell me to get upstairs. It might also be that I was hesitant to go up. For them life had taken many turns but they were at peace and just wanted to see me, my family and to let us know their story. Their faith and love had carried them through turmoil and to a good place.

These are still my memories decades later with one more: we would correspond (letters, not emails) once or twice a year as G became a Doctor somewhere way up north. About 15 years after the last time I saw he and his mom, G wrote that he had a some business to tend to in San Francisco and would like to see us as well as meet Maria over dinner. We ate at a place that from one bad experience I referred to its' name as meaning "bad sausage" . This was a good meal and a better evening of old and new friends being friends, taking easy comfort in the presence of each other. We had finally arrived to a place where our memories and experiences were both seen as positive shared experiences, if the acts themselves were not ones we would recommend or do again. Twenty five years to be ten, on the same path.

I think about the things he experienced- how he got through as well as the process many people take to get through their conflicts and troubles. Different ways to do so but many choose the road of having faith to sustain, nourish, and hold on to. I didn't grow up with religion in my life; it was not put down but also the topic was never discussed. I am continually fascinated as to what f aith is. While recognizing the grays to every discussion and conflict, how I view the world has gotten simpler as I've gotten older. I see families and individuals that find joy in their lives having a good sense of self, enjoying laughter, not controlling others and having some type of faith. It may be a faith in God but also faith in something that is less tangible as a celestial concept; faith that provides a morality that they can hold on to, that informs and strengthens everything they do. It's a root of which all their decisions flow from. A faith that allows us to believe in our local team even though we know that the reality is that team will probably will be crummy again but this faith allows to believe and invest ourselves in that belief. And get up again, if the flower does not yet bloom.

Faith or Optimism? Optimism requires blinders and some delusion; an optimist always has the belief that whatever the situation is, it will get better. Faith has more of an acceptance of reality;
a bad situation may not get better unless we involve ourselves in providing a solution, all the while working with hope to get through. Optimism would not have helped most of those persecuted by the Nazi's but those with their faith may have found the will to continue on. Faith does not promise happy endings for the individual but it does value the courage of doing the right thing and the importance of a community.

I am not impressed with those who try to force others how to live their lives other than to encourage and inspire. I am impressed with those with a belief system, who go forward despite their fears, with courage, kindness and good humor. Rooted in Faith, they seek to plant the seeds of goodwill, care and love in their communities.

However the journey leads you to it, keep the faith, my sons.


I should note that although this is something i ponder, the idea to put these thoughts on paper came after watching a film called, "Higher Ground" by Vera Farmiga.

Why Can't I Stay Home?

Where are they dragging me out when I could stay home and watch episodes of "The Office" or "30 Rock"- or I could catch up on my homework while occasionally checking up on my Facebook page? It's easier being 13 inside.

At least it's sunny at Ocean Beach. Yesterday they said it was cold and windy and that you needed earplugs- not for the music but to keep the sand out of your ears. I like to help and volunteer and as my Mom and Dad check in to the volunteer booth, I hope I can help. It seems confusing and only Mom gets an orange shirt. Dad looks a little upset but he's not saying anything about it.

A lady takes us over to one of the two stages after asking if we want to be close or far away from the music. There are three big garbage cans lined for compost, recycle and trash and Mom and Dad's job is to be sure that the right stuff goes into the correct cans. I'll set up a blanket with my brother. It's about 10 and the music doesn't start until 11. We have snacks and books to read.

Mom is sorting with her hands while waiting for some gloves to arrive. Dad is going on a walk to check out the food and the displays for the guy, Warren Hellman. He pays for all this and I guess he still will, for years after his dying. All the artists that came out today are old friends who wanted to play at his public memorial. It's a pretty day, sunny and even a little bit warm and the beach is next to us.

My brother and I spent most of the day playing on the beach. We listened and watched some of the music but later when all the people came , it got too crowded to see. On the beach we had a lot of room to play and breathe. My parents stayed at their station longer than they were supposed to because no one came to relieve them. Six hours standing over garbage cans is a long time but then they came out and played with us on the beach. We played team keep away (me and Dad were awesome) until the sun started to go down as the last music and tributes finished. I'm feeling glad I came out but now I just want to go home and rest. A hot chocolate or soup would be nice and I hope I can sleep in tomorrow.

My Dad says that all the acts were good and that Hardly Strictly Bluegrass streamed the whole show- and still has all seven plus hours on their website for anyone to watch. One band even played a Whitney Houston song into a fun bluegrass rhythm. Dad says that a moment that captures the joy of performance, the interaction of musicians in the moment and how simple and perfect of just two people playing - is about 3 hours 40 minutes into the show (you can mark it on the stream) for the performance of Gillian Welch and David Rawlings' "Six White Horses". I liked them. I guess I can always watch "The Office" later.

The Wheel Of Fortune

We started two new annual traditions this year 'round Valentine's Day.

1. New pillows for everybody. I'm not sure what an appropriate shelf life for a pillow is but after 365 nights of sleeping on it (minus vacation days) and 3-4 pillow fights a year this would seem to justify getting a new full pillow. I'm not even considering a gallon of drool over this period of time.

2. The Wheel Of Fortune. On Valentine's we are dividing dinner into three categories and each category is written on a piece of paper: appetizer, main entree and dessert. Dexter and Oliver represent one team while Maria another, as well as myself. Whichever category we draw from a hat is the part of the meal we will be responsible for. The kids can choose anything they want and their parents will pay for their menu item as long as they prepare it. We were all in and genuinely excited to participate.

I have to say that salami and peanut butter is a lot better than it sounds.
Dessert was not unlike a Van Halen guitar solo; layers of excess. Warmed dark chocolate syrup on the bottom of a bowl with vanilla ice cream set over it. The ice cream held in place by two halves of a sugar cookie. Over this a puree of strawberries sweetened with agave- topped with a light cherry vanilla whipped cream, bits of chopped nuts and centered with a tiny sugar cone cradling sliced strawberries. More chocolate syrup is dripped over the stop with a dab of extra strawberry puree.
I have to say that salami and peanut butter is a lot better than it sounds.

Also, the hardest working man today might be our favorite florist on California Street right next door to the Lumiere Theater. Working alone ever since his partner of 35-50? years died in 2010, he tried having others work with him but when you're a team for that long, it's likely difficult to settle for less than what he's used to- in some ways I wonder if the effort created more work. They knew each others' space and actions so well. Gentlemen and always gracious to us and the children saving treats for the boys for when they would see us next. Artists in how they arranged their bouquets; what you select is only a draft and a template to expand and enrich. I feel a sheepish as I'm sure that we are charged less than many or most but it has always been a special place to visit, and a place where the boys have witnessed commerce with kindness, craft and care.
(actually the boys came up with a lovely fruit salad-D, and salami and cream cheese-O . Maria made a delicious hearty tomale!)

These Days

Dear Friends,

these days find us in good spirits busier than we realize. While I am hording Christmas LP's - cheaper in January than December and old Uncle Scrooge Comic Books, the following pictures mostly feature Oliver; he the one of us who runs toward the camera. I do too but I feel the need to pretend that I don't. So look for Oliver in a photo op with the Mayor (Brother Lee) who was very gracious to take the time to do so.

Oliver's first organized sporting event. This was a baseball clinic put on by Dexter's first coach, Coach Sherman. Not only was Oliver smaller than all the other kids he was also the youngest but definitely the most determined. A photo with Aunt Janey when she hosted a terrific Chinese New Year's dinner inviting my family and being with my dear cousins Judy, Jadey, Doreen and their families.

With the SF summer-like weather, we took the opportunity to revisit old favorites-Pancho Villa in the Mission, to discover Humphrey Slocombe ice cream, and stunned to see the new shops in Hayes Valley- Beer Garden, Ritual Roasters (hey, you're on Blue Bottle turf!) and a winter wonderland backdrop on a warm January evening. Also, Oliver dressed as me for school and me dressed as Oliver dressed as me. And at least one photo of Dexter- bringing me a piece of cake, care and kindness. A nice hour spent with old friend Palmer who when he applied at Peets carried a letter of reference that I had written for him nearly 14 years previously. A creative, quirky and gentle person that I have had the privilege to have known.

Spirits of Our Ancestors

This morning we went out to the cemeteries in Daly City to visit my Grandparents in two places and my Uncle Tom on a military hill side in Colma. The exact places I've never been good with but I have it written down for future reference, and I should make it available for Dexter and Oliver in the years to follow.

It is always apparent to me that most of us never really get over the loss of a mother, as the sadness visibly overcame my father if only temporarily. He lost her in 1993, one month after my favorite Uncle- Uncle Tom died. What had followed after a very splendid year of travel and unity/marriage (Oct'92) was at that time our family's greatest meeting of grief.

My Dad's mom was tough and strong, living independently into her 90's while smoking and drinking all the while. Yet she always seemed to have her wits about her and all relatives paid their good respect to her at family gatherings. She was kind to me but it was a great mistake to do something that would make her mad. Her husband, shot when he worked in a store in Chinatown never physically healed complete and later worked as a watchman/janitor at the YMCA. Late at night after closing, my father and his brother would use the facilites, learning to swim and play pool. Grandma sits close to an area I assume was once occupied only by a former Mayor of San Francisco (Rolph) until because of space, the lack of, required the occupancy of folks like my grandmother. Of note, Mayor Rolph was the longest termed mayor of San Francisco- nearly 20 years until he became Governor of California, a job he occupied until his death.

Dexter came out with us (Dad, Sister, Brother) and was good company while we steadied Dad- although it was his memory that led us to where we needed to go, Hingee and Mike cleaned the tombstones and set in new flowers. My mother never knew her father who died in the youngest of her days but her mother, (with bound feet!) provided as best she could. These recollections of my mother were always described with tenderness, warmth and longing. Once as my father drove us back over the Bay Bridge from a visit with friends, my mother told stories of her childhood and in a very unusual act for her, reached out and held my hand.

After lunch it was time to settle in at Dad's and watch the 49'ers-Saints. A nice situation for me as these are my two favorite football teams. At the same time, I was concerned that my feelings would be as conflicted to not be able to enjoy the game. However, one team provided my first opportunity to hug my father 30 years ago. At game time it was pretty easy to root for the Niners who also had the spirits of their ancestors present. With Montana and Young at the game, it would add to Alex Smith's folklore if in the middle of a huddle of the last crucial drive with 9 seconds to go- teammates hyperventilating, he had said to calm them, "hey guys, look there's Joe Montana" Or better yet as my friend Robert suggested if Smith had said, "Hey, there's John Candy" . I wanted the Saints to perform well but ultimately to come up short in a close contest. This turned out to be a very exciting game-crazy exciting! especially the last four minutes, with four lead changes, and an improbable last second 49'er win.

The Saints particularly Drew Brees and Marcus Colston played great. I always loved the 49'ers Alex Smith despite all those things I've supposedly said the last seven years. I knew that at the end of this day he would be a hero or a ah, a bum. Just a quick note that yesterday Giants announcer Mike Krukow called for a 49'ers win as "this will be The Catch 2, with a last second touchdown from Alex to Vernon Davis". This is how it turned out exactly, and grandly. Dad who before game time said it didn't matter to him who won, was excited, thrilled at game's end and for that, on this day, I am grateful.

Bringing in the New Year/ A New Way

Bringing in the New Year, Cambria 2012





Not far from the truth- and now, let's immediately begin my New Year's rambling babble:

My real name is Abraham Lincoln-pronounced "A bra ham Lin- col-n". I was the walrus but now am the porpoise, with a purpose. My children are named "Sun" and "Raisin". I am Maria's third husband. The 49'ers are World Champs, thrashing New Orleans, Green Bay and New England, 547-12, combined score. I'm thinking I ought to just make stuff up for this year so I will begin doing so with the next words.

Seems to be our annual winter visit to Cambria, along the central coast for two nights. The elephant seals not far from Hearst Castle seemed to be calmer on the day we visited; no pups getting over run by the big fat bulls and one fight was pure bluff with the smaller bull retreating after one strike. Everyone was content to lay in the warmer than usual sun, splashing sheets of sand to provide coolness.

We enjoy the calm of Moonstone Beach, Robin's and the Main Street Grill and I love running into the sports card shop and sifting through the various 1-$3 packs of deals. Also, a find of a book of baseball by the last true Commissioner of the game, Faye Vincent- not the shill that has been, Bud "Shill" Selig. And $2 for this piece!

Also, time spent together- although with some dismay of time spent with a PSP (here but not here) but saved in moments of running through the big green places of the place where we stayed.

Now reality calls with present conflicts and items to settle, work and school and demands. Moments of paralysis but the purpose of the porpoise is to swim, go forward . The hope at the end of the day is to have done so with clarity and kindness.

Bringing in the New Year!