End of the year – Thanksgiving and Christmas
Let’s skip the election and go on to the good things that happened this winter. I will say only that November 8 was my 93rd birthday and will live in memory as one of the worst downers of my long, long life.
My Thanksgiving trip got off to a rather shocking start. Heading for Heath’s, in San Francisco, I was on the moving walkway in the airport with my bag on one side and a backpack when I leaned against the side and slowly but with certainty was pulled down. Happily there was a stewardess right in front of me and she knew exactly what to do and swung into action. With the help of a young man she got me on my feet and off the walkway safely, and had called in so there was a chair waiting at the end. I realized, as the shock subsided, that my left shin hurt and was bleeding profusely, and my left arm also needed attention. I was soon surrounded by airport was right behind me. He called Heath who was waiting in the cell phone lot, and really shook her up, as he introduced himself as the pilot! I refused to go to Emergency, so the EMT wrapped my leg in gauze and I was wheeled out to where Heath was waiting. Withal I was clear-headed and coherent and even able to walk. On arrival, Heath went out for first aid equipment while I stretched out on her lovely window couch in the afternoon sun. During my stay she became expert at wound care altho it was not her preferred role. Her book club was meeting that night, with a pot-luck and discussion of Ann Patchett’s ‘Commonwealth’ and I was up for it. Good meal and serious discussion, as this novel needs to be talked about.
My leg, besides needing attention every day, was neither painful nor did it impede our schedule. We visited 4 museums and two were great shows. One was the ‘Homeland Security’ exhibit at Fort Winfield Scott, an unusual collection of 18 artists’ take on our life after 911. A really great show, and enhanced by seeing it with Phyllis Faber. The other show that really delighted me was the Frank Stella retrospective at the de Young. His earlier work, designs on canvas, has morphed into 3-dimentional creations that are stunning. And for me much more intriguing than the canvases. Here is one I also connected with Bernard Halliwell, another long-time friend. And it was great spending serious time with Phoebe, who has become a world traveling architect. I can’t get enough of hearing about her life. Heath and Phoebe are movie buffs and we saw ‘Moonlight’ a high-quality film. So all events were choice. My trip home was spent sitting, as I am now a convert to being toted around airports. And Incidentally, as I write this, my wound has passed the 6-week mark and is still healing. I finally saw Karen Kuhl yesterday and she reassured me that it is definitely healing, altho grudgingly. She has referred me to the Ashland wound clinic in case healing can be sped up. But shins and scalps are very bad places for wounds.
Christmas
I have been going to Irvine for Christmas since Eric died in 2011 and this year was no exception. But this time the scenario was different. Lolly had booked 3 trailers for 2 nights at San Clemente State Beach Park – one for me, one for herself, Keith and Sam, and one for their friends Ann-Marie, Danny and Elliot, age 4 ½. Ann-Marie and Danny are both at USC, she in Art History, he in Classics. Old friends from Northwestern days. And this year is also the wettest in many years in southern California, and we woke up on the 21st to a lovely gentle drizzle. But the trip was in place and paid for so we went. Wonderful site, on a bluff several hundred feet above the ocean, about 35 min from Irvine. And the sun was peeking thru the clouds onto a wet landscape when we arrived in mid-afternoon. So we had a lovely first walk down to the water,and not another soul in sight. Dusk came early on this Winter Solstice evening and we gathered around a great open fire to drink wine and eat Lolly’s quiches and salad. S’mores for dessert.
The firepit was great for S’mores but as we were finishing them, it began to rain suddenly and it was soon pouring furiously. We dashed for the cover of our trailers and the wind began to gather momentum and soon the trailers were rocking. Having my own private trailer which was terrific, but had not paid close attention when our young host was explaining all its workings. I managed to figure out most of the challenges but at bedtime could not find blankets anywhere. Seeking help would mean a drenching, so I found a big towel and shrouded in it a wrapped my long fleece jacket around my fully clothed body. I can’t say it was a good sleep, what with the wind gusting fiercely and ripping the front-door canopy off its poles. Lots of clattering, groaning, creaking as I lay there trying to keep warm in embryonic position with really no alternative possible.
In the morning the campground was a bedraggled sight and it was still raining. So we all went off to the Dana Point Ocean Institute after breakfast, which was a really nice outing. It is a private enterprise and the emphasis is on education. We took a tour and then lunched (but not well) at a local restaurant with very slow service. But it was fun watching Elliot, who ordered French-Fries-with-lots-of-ketchup and ate them with gusto. A very bright and engaging young person who, when he got over his shyness, began to call me Santa Barbara. In the afternoon I took a long beach walk when the rain quit for awhile, and satisfied my need for an interlude alone with the ocean.
Another campfire after dark, and another tasty meal – Danny’s fish tacos with all the trimmings. And the rain held off a little bit longer. Elliot wanted to play games so we found Yahtzee and gathered in my trailer. It was well over Elliot’s head but he loved shaking the dice, doing it so vigorously we had to pick them up off the floor. And the rain was gentle that night and I had a comforter and slept blissfully. But when we awoke to more rain we decided our ocean experiecne was over and went home for breakfast.
Lolly and Keith now have a stunning home. The first floor has been transformed by the advent of a Baby Grand Piano, as Sam has become a fine performer. It may be short-lived as he will be a high school senior next year, but for now it is great. They were concerned that it would overwhelm the first floor; instead it has made for a really lovely living space. The living room is now a music room/study, and the designated dining area is where we all convene; it now has a new l-shaped couch, some great reading lamps, and the TV. The garden, too, has gradually become the space that Lolly envisioned. A new flat-stone patio in front has a stunning fountain and plants that attract hummers and butterflies. The back garden has 3 raised beds that grow veggies year-round and a larger patio where eating out can be another all-year pleasure. And maybe best of all, the view from the back garden is a smog-free view of the San Gabriel Mountains. What a change from our long years of living in air pollution. Apparently eliminating tanker fumes (they must now cut their engines when in harbor) was the last big step that transformed Los Angeles back into a beautiful mountain-ringed basin, with clear skies most days.
Lolly and I spent Christmas Eve day at LACMA, where there was an exhibit of German Renaissance art, a working trip for her. More fun was the Rain Room, an installation where rain in sheets descends in a large room, but if you walk slowly into it the waters part around you and you stay completely dry. (Google it if you want to have a vicarious experience.) And then out to dinner at a fabulous Indian Restaurant in Irvine, The Clay Oven. Maybe the best food for the year.
Off at daylight the day after Christmas to Death Valley where a big section of the family spent their holiday (Heath, Phoebe, Yael and Sam, Hilary and Damian, and the 4th generation, the 4 greatgrands – Isaiah, Orli, Mattie and Ellie). They rented 3 compact vans called JUCYs in Las Vegas and drove from there to Furnace Creek and camped. We were connected by phones and met them at an entrance station and had a joyous reunion. Mosaic Canyon was close so that was our first hike. And wonderful, altho I was shocked at how many visitors there were. My memories of Death Valley go back to the first year we were Californians and rented a trailer and spent spring break there. I thought there were too many people even then, now it takes a lot more adjusting. Still, when you leave the viewpoints and start hiking the crowds diminish! Mosaic Canyon turned out to be a gem and wonderfully photographic and here are some I took.
We stayed at the Inn and had a rather dismal and over-priced supper in a very overcrowded restaurant, but were at 3 tables so I got a chance to talk to Sam and Orli. We all find it less than perfect to have these too-large family reunions, there are just too many of us to get one-on-one opportunities, but they are better than none so we do it. This one was only 2 days and next day we went to Zabriskie Point where everyone but me hiked down to the badlands, the pupfish, etc. I took a careful look at the descent and stayed on top. There are definitely things I cannot do anymore. Nevertheless I marvel at what is still possible.
There was no lodging open for the second night so Lolly had found an AirBnB in Shoshone, about 45 miles towards Las Vegas, where there are wonderful hot springs. I had been there several times on Audubon field trips decades ago, and remembered it as a totally funky town and wondered why it was such an attraction. The answer is the fabulous hot springs. My memory was of a largish enclosed pool filled with nude women, most of them almost as ancient as I am now. They were such a spectacle. Now I was going to be one of them, and have younger and less pickled bodies all around. Alas, it never happened. We lost contact with the 3 JUCY vans (desert phone reception is usually nil) who went to the Shoshone campground and immediately jumped into the hotsprings. We went to Villa Anita, about two miles from Shoshone, and an incredible wonder in itself. In the tradition of Watts Towers in LA, and the Noah Purifoy Museum in Joshua Tree, Villa Anita is a unique art experience. It is sort of a hotel in the desert and in the 4 years of its existence it has become a dazzling and bemusing venue. Owned by two guys, Carlo and Aaron, it offers an overnight stay like none I have ever experienced. We were led in by a curly-haired, barefoot youngster who was a reincarnation of the 60s kids. His leadership was important we realized as we wound thru a garden cluttered with paintings and found objects from tiny statues to huge fountains. Lots of doors, reclaimed and colorful. It is large, there is an old restored trailer buried in its midst. We finally went thru a door that was serving its real purpose and into a house with even more art clutter, very hard to describe. I had a room with an ancient canopy bed and a real bathroom next door. Lolly and family were in the ‘bottle house’ and had a composting toilet. The first thing I asked for was a flashlight and the second was a glass of wine. Aaron showed us around and seemed a grounded, affable person, his art was everywhere, even on the ceilings. Carlo, when he arrived from a grocery run to Pahrump, maybe 50 miles south, and the closest town for ANYTHING, was a wild man, engaging, garrulous, unique. He found me fascinating and we talked over our wine. He and Aaron were certainly ‘the odd couple’. The 3rd regular occupant was Ry, Aaron’s nephew, who is their electrical wizard, and half a dozen other souls wandered around. A commune of sorts with everyone helping to cook, clean, build, create. Lolly and Keith went off to find the rest of the family and found them in the hotsprings at the campground. They came to Villa Anita for dinner and we
were seated at a big oval table in a rather medieval setting and were served a huge home-cooked meal. Miso soup to start, followed by huge platters of ham, salmon, and finally pork, all with roasted veggies. All the while regaled by Carlo and his stories. The 4 greatgrandkids fell asleep, and one of the twins was the epitome of an exhausted baby.
It was a moonless night and before going to bed I found my way outside with the help of my trusty flashlight to look with wonder at the stars. It was a moonless night and the sky looked like the one I love best zt Rancho sin Nombre in Earthquake Valley. Desert skies should be viewed at least once a year to keep our place in the universe in perspective. I slept well and rose at dawn to watch the sunrise and take photos. Incredible end to a most unusual trip. We left early in the morning and next day I left for home. What a holiday!
Here is a photo gallery of the garden.
E