Take a Hike

Take a hike she said. 

So, I did. 

She and I and six other gals at Point Reyes in the rain, hiked to

 the beach, dodging rain drops.

 I saw taller than I am Cow Parsnips.

 

Finally, up close, I was able to differentiate their bigger than a large-man-hand-five fingered fuzzy leaves from the feathery carrot top leaves of poison Hemlock. Both have convex white umbels. Both grow in dense wild areas. Apart from the leaves being very different, the Hemlock has distinguishing reddish purple blotches on its stalks. Knowing the difference could save a life. 

In my twenties, I heard about a boy on the beach where Malibu Creek let out onto the sand at the base of a cliff. His family watched from their picnic blanket with pride as their ten-year-old son fashioned a flute from a reed that grew along the creek and began to blow it, making a whistle like sound. They were horror struck when he keeled over. At the lifeguard’s directions, they rushed him to the closest medical facility. On the way, the boy died. The family were in shock, disbelief, and grief-struck. Autopsy showed concentrations of Poison Hemlock in his mouth and trachea. That stuck with me. Socrates’ mandatory “suicide” is chalked up to drinking Hemlock. Potent poison. Glad to know the difference!

The day after hiking to the beach from the Hostel in Point Reyes, we hiked at Abbot’s Lagoon and again all the way to a different beach along the less than peaceful Pacific. More Hemlock, more Cow Parsnip, purple Irises, 

orange Monkey Face Flowers, red Paintbrush, 

Coastal Poppies,

Thimble Berries,

and plentiful bird species greeted and delighted us.

Male Quail was keeping a watchful eye as chicks foraged in the underbrush.

Volunteering to help remove invasive species at Half Moon Bay a few years ago, gave me better perspective on just how invasive and persistent Hemlock is. Ditto Ox Tongue’s pretty yellow flowers on prickly prickly stalks springing from ouchy ouchy leaves. Gloves mandatory.

Tujunga wash is a tried and true favorite place to hike. Recently, friend Julie and I hiked, on another rainy day, and marveled at the sound of rushing, gushing Tujunga Wash. Everything was in bloom. Including human hubris.

This has been a Super Bloom year. Golden Poppies Purple Lupine. Bees are happy. No glyphosate in the wild. We hope.

Point Reyes Book Store had this in the window:

Celebrating Mothers!

Mothers allow life to flow through them. Whether a woman has consciously asked to become a vessel for life, or was unwittingly caught off guard, or violently entered and, and, due to varied circumstances, had to succumb to growing within her womb what may be a frightful reminder of rape, babies are born or found in want of a mother by a woman (usually) who wants to be one and scoops that babe to her breast. 

Babies are life's yearning for itself said Kahlil Gibran. Nurturing a life is the task offered. Women (and men) cannot help but want to support new life to thrive. Distractions, poverty, illness, whether mental or physical, get in the way, but I believe that children, for the most part, highlight our instincts to make sure the next generation thrives. We do the best we can.

Children grow and become adults who beget more children. Insidiously, we have been distracted from the all important task of truly nurturing life and find ourselves in an environmental crisis on Planet Earth. Here we are, trying not to destroy ourselves as we destroy everything around us with our super smart brains and ZERO spiritual intelligence. Our hubris is so big, it's as water is to fish. We are blind to the fact that we're steeping in stupidity, avarice, arrogance, and greed, but we are.

Friday, my cozy and privileged Nor Cal family and I took BART to San Francisco to see the musical "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory." The Roald Dahl classic children's book has been updated and rearranged to provide a timely message for us all. Scintillating singers and daring dancers bond to make this musical magical.

What DO we do with gluttony? Ask Augustus Gloop who falls into the Chocolate River he's trying to drink-up. What do we do about entitlement and acquisitiveness? Ask Veruca Salt who, in this version, is a Russian bad nut (Verushka!), who wants everything and she wants it NOW! Her father is a slippery-slope-soto-voce-deal-making sinister tycoon in furs, also accustomed to getting his way. How do we deal with those who take what they want and damn the consequences? Ask Violet Beauregard. In this case, poor Violet is not a shrinking violet, but rather a grab and go gal who despite Mr. Wonka's protestations grabs the gum that is not yet ready for consumption. She is 'Queen of Pop' and just HAS to keep chewing.... until she does pop, when the blueberry pie dessert portion of the great-tasting three-course dinner flavored-gum ball goes wrong, causing her to swell to the proportions and color of a gigantic blueberry until she  *pops*. Spectacularly, she pops, splattering her cheering-her-on-disregard-the-rules-father. She pops like one of her own bubblegum bubbles. The fourth child, Mike TV, is addicted to screens, hand held or big. His mother is also addicted, but to drink.

Little Charlie and his Grandpa Joe are the last men standing after all the other kids who've won golden tickets to tour the Chocolate Factory and their chaperones have been eliminated for cheating or not following Wonka's rules. There is magic afoot in the story. Wonka and Charlie Bucket are alike in their zeal to create new and wonderfully workable solutions to problems in the world. Love and Kindness prevail in their set of values. May it always be so. (Personally, my hope for our world is dimming.)

Not sure we're gonna survive ourselves in fifty or even twenty years. At the rate of species extinction, perhaps we have thirty years MAX to turn things around before the Luna Option* is tried as last resort.

Is our human nature to be greedy, like Augustus? Not sure about that. What is it we really want? Is our human nature to be self-important and entitled, like Veruka? Seems that way, doesn't it? Is our human nature to be altruistic, generous, and kind, like Charlie? Hah! Where did you get THAT notion? Not visible anywhere in our leaders 'round the world, is it? 

Charlie is kind. Charlie is self-deprecating and wants to share with his parents and grandparents whatever wee bit of joy he finds in the world. Where'd he come from? Where will he land, now that he's been made part-owner and collaborator on Wonka's factory and knows how to work the Great Glass Elevator? Will fame and fortune spoil Charlie Bucket?

One of the most thrilling scenes of the evening for me was looking sideways to witness nearly ten-year-old Grandie Devlyn as she devoured the eye candy of the musical's grandeur. Clearly, she enjoyed the spectacle.

Last October, for my birthday, Mark got primo tickets for the four of us in the center of the Orchestra row J! Spectacular seats! Not so close that we were drenched in flop sweat from the dancers, but not far away enough to warrant opera glasses. We could see the actors' facial expressions! 

Before the curtain swooped up with opening strains of the overture, Devlyn and I had a chance to visit with some of the musicians tuning up in the pit. We counted three Saxophones, two Clarinets, six Guitars, three Keyboards, one Violin, Cello and Bass, four Brass Horns, and a Drum Set. She knew by name quite a few of the instruments. Thrilling to see them up close and personal and have musicians light up as Miss D showed interest.

Glad to be a mama of two and Gra'Moose to Miss D! Glad I had a choice when I was nineteen not to become a mom, then choice-fully conscious when I was ready for Life to flow through me at twenty-eight. SO glad to have (finally) chosen the perfect mate for all this magic to happen! I am very very lucky and grateful.

For all of us humans, male and female, there is a creative womb space where creativity dwells. Whether we design and build musical instruments, clothing, mechanical tools, or write stories, sing, dance, creatively support friends, or become parents, necessity is the mother of invention. Each of us is mother to some idea, artifact or creation We're all artists fashioning our lives. Pure Imagination, sings Willy Wonka.

Happy Mother's Day.

* Luna is the name for Earth's colonized moon after Earth dies in a Sci-Fi short story I wrote.

Anniversary

April 30, my beloved and I celebrated forty-seven years of wedded bliss. When we tied the knot it was in a field adjacent the home where I grew up in Echo Park. Surrounded by our families and friends we followed the promptings of the "right on Rabbi" Alan Secher, as we recited our self-crafted vows to one another. It was a beautiful ceremony and party. We absented ourselves before dinner and drove to Santa Barbara just a couple of hours up the coast to a motel with waterbeds. We only had the weekend away from work, but enjoyed the mini-vacation tremendously - walking around the historic downtown and relaxing by the pool and walking on the breakwater.

For this 47th anniversary, we took ourselves to the mountains. We enjoyed three meals a day for the long weekend, also wonderful company, arts 'n' crafts, fishing, boating, archery and a talent show Saturday evening. We went to The Painted Turtle Camp to be volunteer counselors!

Such fun to interact with families and play with kids. I got to meet a young author I'd heard about for the past two years who wrote the book, "Campity Camp Camp Camp!" Fourteen- year-old E, wrote the book during another family camp when she was twelve and she only had one other sibling  This time, her two young brothers, E and E, Dad Joe, and Mom E were there along with twenty-eight other families for this weekend of PIDD (Primary Imuno-Deficiency Disorder), Liver Transplant, and Arthritis diagnoses. Mom E explained to me that all three kids also had middle names beginning with the letter "E." With a surname that begins with "P," that means all three have initials spelling EEP! Saves on monogramming, for sure! And perhaps serves as family cheer. Eep, Eep, Eeeeep Eeeep Eeeeeeep!

I observed that even with the incredibly long days as family camp pals, my honey and I were still able to complete our physical therapy routines each morning at camp. I had to get up at five a.m. in order to get through all my routines for whiplash and shoulder tears and still have time to bathe, dress, and eat a small pre-breakfast snack before meeting my family at the High Ropes Course by 6:50.

I was assigned to a wonderful veteran family. The B family is comprised of Mom G & Dad R, older sister A and younger sister S. Such a lovely and loving family, well-versed in the rules of camp and the joys and pleasures of family projects. We hung out a lot in the Arts and Crafts building. S and I made binoculars as part of this session's "WHO-DUNNIT?" A Mystery-Solving theme. The family also painted multiple Tee-Shirts supplied to camp by Abercrombie Fitch of the softest cotton EVER! S made one that proclaimed in bright green hand-painted letters: "TPT (The Painted Turtle) OR TPP (The Tinted Poodle).

Fifteen-year-old S missed her nineteen-year-old sister who was studying for law classes when I accompanied S to activities, but soon got into archery and the satisfying THWACK of arrow hitting target. We got to pet and groom miniature horse Carlitos, watch kids catching fish, which she decidedly did NOT want to do, and she FLEW down the zip line after climbing the high-ropes course that early Saturday morning. Among other things, S is an accomplished dancer and for stage night composed and performed an intricate dance to one of the currently popular rock songs. We had fun after each meal dancing to many songs choreographed and led by volunteer counselors at the front of the dining hall.

Saturday night, all the teens are invited to LNTC (Late Nite Turtle Crew) held in a room just off the main gymnasium. Pun, as my husband is known at camp is the facilitator of the ninety-minute program. Forty five years ago "Pun" nicknamed me "Moose," because he said I'm too big to call deer. It stuck, and at camps I've been Moose ever since.

This past Saturday night to celebrate our anniversary, we were both with the teens and several college-age counselors who adore hanging out with the teens and with Pun. He holds their attention while playing games utilizing the big TV screen. Our wonderfully talented friend John Ricci rigged up several templates for Pun to play Talk About, Jeopardy, Wheel of Fortune, and See-More Hints. Kids love shouting out the answers in these non-competitive games. 

We also got to play truth or fiction, responding to a written question that also contained the correct answer. Each team of about twenty campers and counselors could decide if we'd bluff or give the correct answer to the printed question. Our opposing team had to guess if we were telling the truth or bluffing an answer. 

The best part of the evening for me was watching my honey shine in the eyes of these young people and to watch their faces as he led them in a pretty fantastic closing where he teaches them that even when the going gets tough out there in the "real world," all they have to do to return to their happy place (camp) is to close their right eye, close their left eye, open their heart and they'll be back at TPT surrounded by love and permission to be who they are. Such wonderful advice.

Our happy place is camp too and it was perfectly magical to celebrate our love there.