Paddling Upon the Azure Lake

Lake Berryessa, Napa County, CA, Summer 1973: My cousin Bruce was a video wizard, and he lived in Berkeley. (This was some years later than the time he pulled the plastic bra off the 30-foot tall woman in San Francisco.)

He invited me and Barbara A, the writer, to go a-boating. This was because he had a new boat. Well, sort of a boat. It was a yellow inflatable boat, and he was eager to take it for a sail upon the nearest lake.

Barbara A. and I foolishly agreed to go.

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Wonders in Wichita Falls

Wichita Falls, 1959: Before I had my driver's license, the bus took me to Wichita Falls' downtown for the Saturday movies. The Horror of Dracula, with Christopher Lee, was clearly the best, but wandering the streets downtown was also great.

Once I could drive, it was even better, because I had a place to drive to. In my two-toned green 1951 Chevrolet, very much a man of the world, I drove to spend an afternoon and my allowance.

There was a tiny store there.

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Unexpected Visitor

Mount Shasta, February 15, 2004: As I was sleepily rising, Adrienne called from the kitchen. The fat robin was in trouble.

In our back yard, near my office door, the holly tree sports bright green prickly leaves, and bright red berries. Mothers around the world have warned us as children: Don't eat the berries! That's why I believe, and you believe, that the berries are poison.

Our robins, however, have never been warned by their mothers, and appear to gobble the berries throughout the winter. And do the robins appear dead, lying feet up in the snow?

They do not.

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Walking Legacy

San Anselmo, June 24, 2003: Tonight it is so hot I am unable to fall asleep, and in the wee hours encounter a black mood. Before long the mood will pass, but I think about what we leave behind in this world.

My sometime nemesis, Emmett Chapman, in my opinion, hopes to be remembered for the musical instrument he designed, and for the two-handed tapping technique he pioneered. It might be so, for a while. For forty years, or a hundred, perhaps even longer as a paragraph or footnote in music books.

For most of us, our works do not stand much chance of enduring. Perhaps the sculptor of Mount Rushmore. His works endure, but who knows his name? Perhaps the Taj Mahal. The sultan's name can be found in history books, as can the name of the woman he so loved. But even history books will some day fade.

For most of us, we have no works likely to endure the long seasons. For a very few of us, we leave works which might last a few hundred years, maybe. The blink of an eye in our cosmos.

I have no children. Some day I will be a memory, slowly fading, and when that memory has faded, will be gone.

But I think of Adrienne who has grown daughters. I think of my brothers and sisters who have children grown and children yet growing. They leave a walking, talking legacy which might endure for a time.

Any guarantee of eternity? None whatever.

But they have a chance.

Watching for Tsunami

Lands End, San Francisco, 1976: The radio was all abuzz. A tzunami was coming. It would arrive around 8:30 just after dark. San Francisco residents are advised to avoid the beach and low-lying areas.

Naturally, we all wanted to see it.

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Where do Stories Come From?

Mount Shasta, April 8, 2004: Where do these stories come from? I mean, mostly they're true, except for a lie or two. But what makes this story or that story emerge into memory? What makes this memory or that memory form itself into a little story?

Sometimes something seen, or other people's stories, will trigger my own, though there seems little (conscious) connection between stories, not that I'm too proud to steal!

Will steal for food!

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More Megatars than Ever!

Secret Megatar Laboratory, Mount Shasta, 2/18/2007: For Immediate Release.

Six months and one day ago (8/15/06) Mayor Smokey Barnable of Edgewood cut the ribbon on the new Mobius Factory, declaring August 15th to be 'Megatar Day.'

Today -- six months and one day later -- was a banner day in the annals of Megataria, as the first production batch of TrueTapper instruments emerged from the newly-completed Mobius manufacturing facility. Although we're running warp drives at a mere fraction of the speed of light, precision and alignment are holding well, according to Engineering.

Megatar-starved earthlings rejoice. Additional music generators on the way!

Why I Like Dogs

Mount Shasta, May 9, 2003: "Because they have beauty, and they're friendly. And also," Adrienne told me this morning, "Because they have that ... that wildness in them."

I agree. I think that's why men generally like dogs. Dogs are friendly and, no matter how domestic, there is a wildness in them. And isn't that exactly how every man, including myself, wishes to be?

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Doing for Oneself

Moishe is driving in Jerusalem. He's late for a meeting. He's looking for a parking space, and can't find one. In desperation, he turns towards Heaven and says, "God, if you find me a parking space, I promise that I'll eat only Kosher, respect the Sabbath, and all the Holidays."

Miraculously, a parking spot opens up just in front of him.

He turns his face up to heaven and says, "Never mind, I just found one."

David and Kitty

Henrietta, Texas, Summer 1970: My youngest brother David was a tow-headed skinny kid with an active manner, and often serious. Paul was David's older brother, and 14 years my junior, so I left for college when he was still little. It was only when I returned home as a young man that I got to know the boys as they grew up.

At that time we had a huge orange tomcat named Kitty. David and Kitty were great pals, often exploring together, and when David took a nap on the long white sofa, Kitty would find him and wash David's straw-colored hair. One afternoon, as I walked through the living room, I found the two of them fast asleep on the sofa. David had his arm over Kitty, and Kitty had his arm over David.

But Kitty had an annoying habit.

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At 3304 Geary Boulevard

San Francisco, 1980. We'd outgrown my studio apartment on Third Avenue. Network Answering Service, and the Thumbtack Bugle, plus the bookkeeper, and me. Time to move.

I searched Arguello. I searched Clement and Balboa. I searched California Street. I found a second-story flat on Geary Boulevard, on the corner of Parker across from the Post Office. I walked the wooden floors in the empty rooms; it was a vast space, cheery with sunlight, and smelling of new varnish.

On the street below, the phone company was digging up the concrete in the middle of the street, so they could run our phonelines. I watched through the sunny windows. Never before had anybody dug up a street for me. This must be the big time!

For three weeks straight, I built shelving and set up our new workspace. Rosie the Cat kept me company. I got new lamps and large plants. In the foyer at the top of the stairs, I installed four KitKat clocks, with wagging eyes and tails. On the wall, all in a row, I had three black ones, with signs saying London, Paris, Tokyo. Then a pink one with rhinestones labeled San Francisco. Oh, we had arrived.

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The Secret to Good Teeth

Mount Shasta, in the kitchen, March 2003: "Why do good things happen to bad people?" Adrienne wails. She's trying to get my goat, as my grandfather used to say.

She's had trouble with her teeth all her life, whereas I have been blessed in that regard.

I have perfect teeth.

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Arrivederci, Abe's. Adios to the Voicemail business.

Mount Shasta, February 1, 2007: As of noon today, my voicemail business is adios, muchachos.

I've sold my interest in that company, and will no longer be running it. No longer to be answering that phone, saying those words, operating those particular computers, no longer doing that billing. And to those thousands of clients whom I served for the last twenty years, I am deeply grateful to have been a part of your lives.

I'm grateful to Abe's SuperBudget Voicemail, the entity created, which took on a life of its own, relaying the messages that lie at the center of hopes and dreams, good times, and in the center of the comings and goings of so many lives. I'm glad to have been able to create this service, and I'm grateful that so many found it useful.

And I'm grateful to Abe's for providing food and shelter for my family and myself, all these years. Thank you for the whole-wheat bread, thank you for the vegetables, thank you for the coffee and tea, cookies and cakes, yoghurt, honey, and rich creamery butter. Thank you for everything!

It will go on, Abe's will, providing those useful services, keeping folks in touch with the worlds in which they live, they strive, they seek their fortunes, they find their loves. Let it serve you well. The company is in good hands. Only, it has passed from mine.

For my hands have found other occupation ... creating music, fun, and happiness to stream out into the universe, for other lives, for other loves, for other travelers in this world.

So on behalf of myself and my family, in the words of Dorothy Collins, Giselle McKenzie, and Snookie Lansen, singing so long ago ...

"So long, for a while. That's all the songs for a while. So long to your Hit Parade, and the tunes that you wished to be played ... so long."