Poetics: The Stuff of Life in Old Reno

The streets were gray, safe alleyways
showed some minor decay.
Bums slept there at night under neon signs
as street walkers strutted by.
In winter there was snow—
the valley air was crisp and clear,
scrubbed by high desert winds.
Morning came and many casino
workers mixed with fewer office
workers on the sidewalks, as some
drunk gamblers swayed, holding smudged
drink glasses, bleary-eyed and determined
to break even in the new day.
And all were connected by scent from the
old brick corner bakery with steamy windows—
a sweet yeasty aroma created in the
dark of night when the baker and his crew
in white aprons mixed and kneaded
and baked breads so sumptuous
as to make the people proud to live there,
to breathe the same air, to break bread
with one another, to be nourished for another day.


Written for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics, where this week Grace, in a truly lovely prompt, asked us to write about bread.
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Poetics: Reno

 

A homecoming

Everything, everything I saw while driving
there was enveloped in beauty.
Besotted with three great forests, I
had haiku in my head, celebrations
transferred to scrappy notes at stops along
the way and later simply written on
paper with the steering wheel for support
as I drove. Everything, everything so
sublimely crystal real had full appeal
until, seemingly surreal,
The Biggest Little City came into view.

How now brown cow town,
with your bawdy teats suckling the masses
who build on your dry rolling hills, sucking
the life out of my memories of the place
where my mother breastfed me
in a room near the Truckee River, the
place where my haiku stream ran dry.....

But some love the town I left long
ago and left again, this time feeling
somehow renewed in spite of the disjunction
as, in spite of myself, a part of me
functions there still: a little blessing part that
whispers "please stop growing" - all the while
knowing it won't, and guessing it does not
mind that my mind was fresh with haiku
once I reached the next timber line
where everything was everything.

~~~

Written for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics, where this week Abhra shares beautiful thoughts about frequent moving, and returning home, then asks us to compose a poem about a homecoming: "what it is to stay away and the coming back after a long time – have you been worried that the place you call home has changed all the time you have been away?"

~~~

This scene seems necessary to me. RIP, Robin Williams.

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Flash Fiction 55 — Llama

Aymara the Llama by Migy Blanco

Dark blond and übersoft,
my winter coat
gained a magical air when the
babysitter showed me the label,
pronouncing the word — Llama —
telling me about the animal, its
mountain home, its prized wool.

I spent the remainder of the day
coat across my lap, an
encyclopedia opened atop it,
lost in discovery and wonder.


My post written in exactly 55 words for Flash Fiction 55, now hosted by the lovelies over at imaginary garden with read toads.
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Friday Flash 55 & Mag 169: Seeing butter

When I was a wee one

grownups could see butter

when holding a dandelion bloom

underneath my chin. I thought

they were bloomin' crazy.

Here is an example of

the same phenomenon, only better.

Buttercups and dandelions

growing on this downslope don't follow the sun.

They simply adore the lighthouse on top of the hill.

***

Written for Friday Flash 55 - My post in exactly 55 words - for the G-Man.
-ALSO-
Written for The Mag: Mag 169 that inspired with the above image prompt
(Lighthouse Dandelions by Jamie Wyeth). 
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Just a Sliver

 Image via Jabba the Hutt with Hair at tumblr

Fat and stinking, and muttering
to herself, she was the old woman
who lived in her shoes and clopped
around our house calling herself
"the housekeeper," the slob who
was given our spare room, a short-
lived experiment by worn working
parents who had no intention of
raising latch-key kids. With tongue
attached to one corner of her mouth,
she mumbled her three favorite words:
"My, my, my" overandover as her
weight thundered on the old floors,
and kittens scattered like Lilliputians
while we laughed behind her back.

After dinner my father would offer
the troll dessert— usually cake or pie.
"Just a sliver," she always said, she
always said, "Just a sliver," until
one night his disgust at the view of
this Jabba the Hutt drooling for 
the large slice he always gave her
so overwhelmed him he used his
sharpest knife, his sharpest skill,
to carve from the chocolate cake
a sliver so tiny it made her cry.

Written for Poetics — It's Tempting! — at dVerse Poets, hosted 

this week by Mary, whose prompt asks us to "...write about ‘temptation’ 

in some way.  Yours or someone else’s.  Factual (perhaps historical) or fictional."

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Mag 137 — It might be time for lunch but I have to take this call first.....

How different then from now, with smartphones connecting wiseacres fertilizing the minutes of their young lives.

I back then lived long days with folks who forked over all they could for sustainment, and not for entertainment.

Way out in the country we had a party line — so hard to imagine now — but we simply had to share. My sis and I learned tricks to listen in on calls: hold the button down, unscrew the mouthpiece to mute our end.

Our one-and-only phone was on a kitchen block above the silverware drawer, right near the old china hutch. That black phone had a cord with ample length for me to take my calls while sitting beneath the kitchen table. An ironed tablecloth seemed privacy enough to share and gossip and laugh, with a view of my mom's shoes.

When a call was ended I materialized beside her with cloth in hand to dry silver she had washed.

Written for The Mag: Mag 137 that inspired with the above photo prompt
(It Must Be Time For Lunch Now, 1979, by Francesca Woodman).

I cannot believe how much things have changed since I was in middle school! This image brought back a powerful memory of something that hardly seems real....

We didn't have the party line for long because city service came our way, and I wonder if party lines still exist. For those of you who have no idea what I am talking about, find info here.

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Poetics: 100 Bottles

Bottles by Borg de Nobel / http://borgeous.wordpress.com / used with permission /

100 Bottles

When young we sang
100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall
with all the windows open in
the church camp bus.

      It didn't shock Jesus, who was
   known to have enjoyed wine
in his time.

Still young I had
100 hangovers against my will
even with best intentions to
have just two drinks.

   It didn't shock Mama, who had
      grown as co-dependent
with my dad. 

Less young I said
100 times The Serenity Prayer
with twenty others struggling for
sober freedom.

It didn't shock Mozart, who was
   bone, breath, higher power
      for my soul.



Written for Poetics — Borg de Nobel  — at dVerse Poets. Our host, Claudia Schoenfeld, writes:

The cool thing about twitter is, that you constantly stumble upon lots of interesting people. A while ago, I found Borg de Nobel, a dutch painter in the twitter stream, checked her website and thought it would be cool to invite her to the pub with some of her paintings and have us write poems, inspired by her artwork.

I loved each of the paintings for this prompt, but the one with the bottles spoke to me. Thanks to Claudia for introducing us to Borg de Nobel, and for her great idea.

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Friday Flash 55 — Freeze frame

The last day of summer. by Peter Gnas

Splashes made by four and a dog —

Shining strands of flying orange

Mid-air drops of warm sun water

Soft white froth caressing brown skin —

Moment frozen in summer Time.



The place and space, a tail, each face —

Feeling a calling horizon

Unknowable in wondrous Now

Unbidden by those watching Then —

Sweet memory in sight flashes.

Written for Friday Flash 55 - My post in exactly 55 words - for the G-Man.

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Poetics: I understood

Storm -image by Lydia Marano*


I understood

Between stillness and the storm
I came to understand time
In the town where I was born
I was ageless, I was nine

I came to understand time
As the sky darkened the day
I was ageless, I was nine
The atmosphere ceased my play

As the sky darkened the day
Sensation sparked in the air
The atmosphere ceased my play
I stood there twirling my hair

Sensation sparked in the air
Dark clouds hung low overhead
I stood there twirling my hair
Full of wonder, full of dread

Dark clouds hung low overhead
Pushing moisture not yet rain
Full of wonder, full of dread
Slowly turned the weathervane

Pushing moisture not yet rain
Air of exotic perfume
Slowly turned the weathervane
My hometown changed to Khartoum

Air of exotic perfume
Heavy rains began to fall
My hometown changed to Khartoum
I was not nine afterall

Heavy rains began to fall
In the town where I was born
I was not nine afterall
Between stillness and the storm



Written for Poetics — 'His'tory, 'Her'story & time machines  — at dVerse Poets. Our host, Brian Miller, prompts us to "journey back in time" and write "about a moment in history, a character from our history, an event…and it does not matter how far or near back you go. You get to set the date on the Way-back machine. It could be personal history, national or world history or how you interact with it."

In last Thursday's Form For All prompt, Samuel Peralta challenged us to write a Pantoum. I missed joining in for that prompt but was so excited by the form that I elected to try it out for my moment of personal history — that first sense of inner knowing about oneself and one's time and place in the grander scheme of things.



(*Above image is by another Lydia, Lydia Marano, whose work I also 
  featured previously here. She's amazing.)


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Old Postcard Wednesday—Summer vacation: Long live the holidays!

Interesting, isn't it, that the first line, on the left, in French is translated on the right-hand side of the card, but the line in Dutch is not translated! It's OK, however, because unlike the 1970s when this card was printed, we now have Google to translate the line for us. It means: It's nicer here than in the classroom!

Well, of course it is. And July always seemed like the best of the summer vacation months, pocketed between June when there was an adjustment phase in being out of the classroom, and August when it began to dawn that there would actually be an end to all this fun.

I wonder if it is true where you live, but I actually saw a "back-to-school" ad on TV this week. As if it didn't go fast enough......

We all have our favorite memories of summer vacations away from school. I found an article by a pediatrician that I quite liked and thought this post was a good place to share it. The author is this kindly-looking man, Brent Prather, M.D, of Opelousas, Louisiana.

Prather Pediatric and Allergy Center

Dr. Brent has written over 350 articles about parenting and allergies. He has compiled books which he distributed to many of his patients and associates. Many of the articles can be accessed by clicking on the topics of interest.

Title: SUMMER BLESSINGS FOR OUR CHILDREN

Every summer our children are released from school for almost three months. This is an ideal time to bless them with extra time and attention at home. Unfortunately, many families forget to plan summer activities with their children and get "caught up" in their own work pressures and other time consuming duties. As a parent of three grown children and a pediatrician for sixteen years, I strongly recommend committing as much time as you can find in your life to your children throughout their summer. Time is the major necessary ingredient to build lasting, loving relationships and memories among family members. Summer is the best opportunity to find this extra time. Wise parents plan lots of relaxed, fun, family activities.

When I was a child growing up in Opelousas in the 50's, my dad was a busy, overworked pediatrician. He worked 12 to 14 hour days, often seven days a week. One thing he did find time for, however, was a nice long summer vacation with the whole family. These three to four week trips in our airstream trailer are my happiest memories of childhood. I can remember almost every state we went through and every park we camped in. Somehow the relaxed nature of a summer vacation becomes a magic time for a young child. I strongly recommend placing summer vacation together as a family as a high priority. Where you go and what you do is not important. The important thing is sharing the relaxed fun time together as a family and getting involved with your children. If a trip is not possible then a simple outing together in town or a local park will do. Be enthusiastic planning it and watch your kids get excited.

Vacation time is probably the best teaching time we have with our kids. There is more time to talk, listen, observe, sing, laugh, and just generally have fun playing together. Shared meals can become a great teaching time. Mental games can be anything you want them to be while you are driving in a car or seated in a restaurant. Making sandcastles on the beach, hiking in the woods or mountains, or fishing in a stream or lake can become your children's happiest memories and activities your family will return to over and over again.

I strongly recommend reading with your children. This can start at any age, even infancy. Kids love to be read to and to read along with their parents even during their teen years. The most inspiring book my son and I ever read together was a great book called The Power of One by Bruce Courteney. It is a story of a young White South African boy who grows up without a father and has to survive amidst the abuse of other white children, who are very prejudiced. He befriends himself with the Black South Africans and their struggle and sets his goal to become the welterweight champion of the world. The book is a fascinating journey of overcoming the odds, noble heroism, and goal setting. Dozens of other inspirational books have been shared with our three kids by my wife and I. They were as much a joy for us to read even if they happened to be a second or third reading as they were for our children. Read with your children everyday and especially every opportunity you get this summer.

Finally, besides recreation time and reading with your children the best advice I can give parents is to pray with your children. Summer is a wonderful time to grow spiritually as we slow down and listen to God talking to us. Share daily prayers and worship together weekly as a family.

Share a spiritual book or goal this summer and let your children ask the inevitable questions all children wonder about as they are growing up. They will surely grow wiser as they strive to learn the answers. Summer is a truly blessed time for children and for parents. Take advantage of it and make it an awesome, memorable summer for your whole family.

Dr. Prather's plan sounds nearly ideal, except I would alter those final two paragraphs. I would advise that a family might explore different kinds of beliefs for true spiritual growth, thereby giving kids the gift of choice when it comes to their own spiritual paths.

As we all know, not every kid has the kind of summer vacation spelled out by Dr. Prather or as pictured on this old postcard. The man in the video below tells us with exuberance about his happiest summer memories......summer gaming memories, to be exact.......in the summer of 1987, to be even more exact. I am absolutely not a gamer and if I had ever been a parent I would have reluctantly allowed some gaming, while attempting to steer kids far away from the all-consuming love affair this guy had with gaming as a boy. He even admits that his parents used his Nintendo as a babysitter during that summer (see portion from 3:55-4:36). But look at his face. These were truly happy times for him, and he doesn't appear to have turned out to be too bad a fella, geek though he obviously still is today!

Maybe the lesson is that what kids need for a great summer vacation is a combination of the family values spelled out by Dr. Prather combined with allowing a kid to embrace the activities (safe, legal ones, duh) where he/she enters that wonderful state of flow, to have time doing what turns on their creativity, to do whatever floats their boat!






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Old Postcard Wednesday on dVerse Poets Anniversary • Harolds Club Sign

I have written before about my mother working as a dealer at Harolds Club for 17 years, in a period prior to my birth through my middle school years (when she made an about-face life-change and went the whole, successful business route until her retirement). When I was six she married the stepfather who would help raise my sister and me until their divorce about 12 years later. He worked as a bartender at Harolds Club in their early married years, and, since all employees of Harolds Club dressed in full western garb it meant that I had two parents who dressed in cowboy boots, western shirts, those string ties, and western pants. Sometimes my mother wore a sort of split skirt, called a culotte, that had swinging western fringe along the bottom. And she always wore a big, white cowboy hat. For some reason the bartenders and restaurant personnel did not wear cowboy hats, undoubtedly something to do with health regulations, so stepdad's head was bare.

I mention the attire as a round-about introduction to the poem below, which I am posting in the spirit of fun as my post to honor the One-Year Anniversary of dVerse Poets Pub. Pubtender Brian Williams wrote that we may submit poems that are either new or old for OpenLinkNight. Quite obviously, I am submitting an extremely old poem written by my child self for the pub's anniversary week OpenLinkNight.

This old postcard appears to be from around 1949-53, which means that my mother worked there when this photo was taken. About a decade later, during those years when she and stepdad both worked at "The Club," they took a series of Red Cross First Aid classes one night a week after work. Perhaps the course was required by Harolds Club, I'm not sure. My mother was one to prefer our attendance at anything she thought educational, so got clearance from the Red Cross for my sister and me to attend. I have this memory of each of them down on their hands and knees, in full western attire (she did remove her cowboy hat, however), working out the particulars of reviving a life on the padded dummy lying on the floor next to them. It all made a big impression on me, and from those episodes came this:

Happy One-Year Anniversary to dVerse Poets Pub, a group I really do love and admire. I swear that I approach many of the challenging prompts with a childlike timidity, but become so excited by the richness of those prompts that by the time I begin working on my own piece I often tend to enter that marvelous flow that too many adults rarely experience after leaving childhood behind. So, thank you for bringing the wonder of learning and creating and sharing back into my life, dVerse Poets!

:::

Okay, on to a bit about the old postcard, specifically the famous mural that is such an iconic image from my childhood. The following information is from Online Nevada, written by Bruce Bledsoe:

In 1949, Harolds Club commissioned a mural honoring the pioneers of the Old West. The design was created by painter Theodore McFall, and the mural itself was constructed by artist Sargent Claude Johnson of San Francisco, California, then fired into porcelain by Mordecai Wyatt Johnson at the Paine-Mahoney foundry in Oakland, California. Late that year the work was installed on the exterior of the casino. Except for the Reno Arch, the Harolds Club mural was for many years the most prominent feature of Reno's Virginia Street, rivaled later only by Harrah's forty-one-foot-long wall of air that kept the elements out and eliminated the need for doors. Today the mural is all that remains of the once powerful casino.

The Harolds mural was huge—seventy feet long by thirty-five feet tall, composed of 220 forty-by-forty-eight-inch panels. It showed a wagon train encamped for the night around a campfire near a waterfall. On a nearby bluff, Indians wearing loincloths and feathered headdresses stalked the pioneers. Lighting inside the mural gave the appearance of crackling fire and flowing water. Above the mural, red neon letters proclaimed "Dedicated in all humility to those who blazed the trail"—a restatement of the Old West theme that the Smith family had created for their establishment.

For fifty years the mural looked down on Reno's main street, even after the Smiths sold out in 1970 and the club passed from owner to owner. After Harolds closed in 1995, the mural remained in place as a reminder of the days when Harolds was the largest and most famous casino in Nevada. In 1999, when Harrah's bought the property to implode it for a plaza, the mural was dismantled and placed in storage.

A group of citizens then conducted a successful fundraising effort to restore the mural, but when the community discussed where to display it, a serious debate arose over the depiction of the Indians. Many people found the warrior Indians offensive and didn't want the mural located in a prominent place, while others said it deserved a high profile because it reflected American history and was an important part of Reno's past. The Reno-Sparks Indian Colony was asked for its opinion but the group refused to take a position. Tribal chairman Arlan Melendez did say that while he was not personally offended, the mural looked more like an old movie set than real history. He noted that northern Nevada tribes did not attack wagon trains and did not wear colored loincloths, but, he added, at least the mural did show that Indians were living in Nevada when the settlers came.

The Reno City Council at first considered placing the mural downtown, either at a proposed Reno Events Center (since built) or as part of a Fourth Street historic preservation and revitalization effort. In the end it went to neither place, and sufficient reasons can be found besides political correctness: the events center had a modern style that required equally modern art, and the Fourth Street plan remained an uncompleted vision. Still, in the end, the council placed the mural at the Reno Livestock Events Center, a considerable distance from the central city where, one assumes, it could be seen but not seen too much.

Finally, for those who want deeper background on Harolds Club, I suggest an article at pbs.org from its series Who Made America? Among those noted as Innovators is Raymond Ingram Smith, the founder of Harolds Club. The piece about Raymond Smith begins with this heading:

An itinerant roulette operator found his heaven in Reno -- bringing fairness and fun to gambling, and gambling to the masses.

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Ode to a Leporid

 Image: The End of Banality by Starla Halfmann

Coming soon are spring Easter hours

and fond memories of shining flowers

in soft dewy grasses

that wet our small asses

when squatting down, hoping

a fine Leporid ceased loping

in that sweet spot to gently hide

the prized colored egg, great pride

of its enchanted young finder.

Thanks Easter Bunny! You couldn't be kinder.

Written for Friday Flash 55 - My post in exactly 55 words- For the G-Man.

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thinking of Reno, my hometown . . .

Reno Stash

In here are stored broken dreams, lucky strikes,
dried bones,
and desert storms,

memories of towns and lakes that are no more,
and of Julia Bulette, who never died.

Sunshine!
Stars!
Blue bright glory of sky, sky,
sky.

In here are a peepshow of
Easter egg hunts in brittle grass, of
icicles two feet long, and snow at Christmas,

of a gleaming arch over a street beaming and
buzzing neon stories,

of a casino whose front
was a testimony to those who came before us
and loved it here,

but none more than I.

                                     MLydiaM (1991)


I was too late (by five hours) to submit this poem at the Mr. Linky widget for Thursday's dVerse-Critique and Craft.

I had hoped to get this posted there in order to be behind James Rainsford in the list, because his poem reminded me of this poem of mine that in ways related to his subject and that got me going on this post. His subject was, um, ladies of the evening — and a famous one from the Victorian Era in Nevada is mentioned in my poem. You can read a bio of Julia C. Bulette HERE, where you can see the marker established in Virginia City in memory of her by the men who, um, appreciated her kind services. So I am off the hook for having to follow critiquing guidelines for the first time, which seemed daunting on a lack of sleep anyway — but I so enjoyed his poem that I'm still going to link it to this post.

I am mourning the horrific crash at the Reno Air Races on Friday afternoon. Reno is my hometown, as some of you know, and so my heart is there right now. This old poem is my tribute to the pilot who lost his life plunging from

Blue bright glory of sky, sky,

sky

and to those in the box seat area who were killed and horribly injured. From early reports it appears that the pilot made last-second efforts that successfully kept him from crashing directly into the stands, thereby saving hundreds of lives. I refer you to my hometown newspaper online for the latest details.

Finally, the casino front mentioned in my poem was the huge ceramic mural in front of Harold's Club, with words on the top that said: Dedicated in all humility to those who blazed the trail.

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Old Postcard Wednesday--Nut Tree patio, Highway U.S. 40, Vacaville, California

I am glad the Nut Tree is back......in a new configuration. But I am really glad I remember it as it was when I was a kid and my family would stop there on trips to visit my grandmother in Alameda, California (this old postcard was sent to her by a friend in 1954). We must have ridden the train, but what I most remember was the restaurant with the indoor aviary...absolutely magical to me. Later, as a college student in the 1970s, I stopped at the Nut Tree with a friend when we were on a trip to Berkeley. The restaurant served the most delicious lunch, the aviary was still a delight. I bought my mother a watercolor print in the gift store, and was full of memories that day.

It always did amaze me that there was an airport with a short runway right there adjacent to the Nut Tree property, and I was intrigued to find this 1970 vintage film on youtube showing three handsome boys Dressed to the Nines at play on a model plane and then aboard a flight over the area.



Titled "Vintage film of the Nut Tree Vacaville 1970"
 

In contrast to the day enjoyed by those three brothers and their family, this video is of a flight to the Nut Tree airport in 2005....


Titled: "Cessna 172 Landing at Nut Tree Airport, Vacaville, CA" - - December 2005


.....and here is a short clip that someone took using their phone (something visitors to the original Nut Tree could never have conceived of) while on board the new Nut Tree train. Note that a shy boy mentions "youtube," something the three brothers in the 1970s did not have to worry about....well, not until their home movie was posted there decades later!


Short clip taken by Android phone on board new Nut Tree train


Some history from Wikipedia (highlighting added for emphasis):

Nut Tree is a mixed-use development in Vacaville, California near the intersection of Interstate 80 and Interstate 505. It opened in 1921 on old U.S. Route 40. It was created by Helen and Ed "Bunny" Power as a small roadside fruit stand, and built near the site of Helen's childhood home (dating from 1907), which she and her husband purchased from her parents not long after their 1921 marriage.

The Nut Tree grew as US 40 became Interstate 80. At its peak, it contained a restaurant, an outdoor eatery, a bakery, a gift shop, a toy shop, the Nut Tree Railroad that gave rides from the toy shop to the airport, and an airport, which is now owned and operated by Solano County. It was a welcome rest stop on the road between Sacramento and the San Francisco Bay Area. Throughout the year, kids enjoyed giant frosted honey cookies (personalized on request), the numerous "Hobby Horses" rocking horses and riding the train. . .

. . . The Nut Tree Restaurant was an early pioneer of California cuisine, with fresh fruits and vegetables featured in the recipes. By 1978, it was identified as "the region's most characteristic and influential restaurant." It also featured small loaves of wheat and rye bread, cooked fresh each day on the premises. A notable feature of the restaurant was its large indoor aviary, which had glass walls extending from floor to ceiling. Nut Tree knives and cutting boards, as well as books on aviation, were sold in the gift shop. . .

. . . The Nut Tree ceased operations in 1996 due to financial issues brought about by increased competition, a family feud that was taken to court, and changing tastes. The main Nut Tree buildings were demolished in Fall 2003. The Coffee Tree restaurant across the I-80 freeway, another part of the original Nut Tree holdings, was demolished in late 2005. The old original Harbison house was donated to the Vacaville Museum in 1998 and is being restored in a new location 1000 feet from the original site.

Nut Tree reopened in 2006 as a mixed-use development of Snell and Co. It contains Nut Tree Family Park (children's amusement park), Nut Tree Bocce Grove (bocce ball venue), Nut Tree Village (restaurants and stores) and Nut Tree Complex (retail, hotel, offices, residences). Retailers operating at opening were Best Buy, Sport Chalet and BevMo!. The restored Harbison house (which the Nut Tree had open for public tours during its final years of operation) is a major centerpiece of the development. It opened in October 2009.

*Between the time that the Nut Tree closed and its building was demolished, the Northern California Renaissance Fair was held on its grounds for several years running. [See the link to a documentary video at the end of this post for more about the Renaissance Pleasure Faire!]

The Nut Tree Family Park closed on January 14, 2009 due to the lack of attendance.

But in August 2009, The Nut Tree has re-opened its doors under the new ownership of Westrust. The Grand Opening Celebration on August 22, 2009 unveiled the new environmentally friendly Nut Tree train, this time running on biofuel. Attractions include the Nut Tree Railroad, Carousel, and other historical elements of the first Nut Tree, as well as firepits, signboards, and the ice cream pavilion. Visitors are even able to enjoy the famous frosted honey cookies at the new Vintage Sweete Shop at the marketplace. With a more easily accessible layout, the new Nut Tree promises to delight visitors with a variety of shopping and dining experiences along with family friendly entertainment.

Short advertisement for the new Nut Tree Family Theme Park


As mentioned in the history above, the Nut Tree even has a connection to the famed California Renaissance Pleasure Faire. The ones held in southern and northern California are, according to this site on the faires' history, "the largest and oldest of the re-enactment/craft faires in the US, started in 1963!"  It goes on to mention that the northern California "Faire spent three years (1999, 2000, 2001) on the Nut Tree property in Vacaville" before relocating in 2002 to the Casa de Fruita property outside of Gilroy.

The video I found that shows the Renaissance Pleasure Faire at Nut Tree has had embedding disabled. It really is worth the click if you have 8.56 min to view it. If you want to see the part specifically about the Nut Tree location, including a glimpse of the tree the Nut Tree was named for, go to 7.10 on the video. It is HERE; have fun!

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Old Postcard Wednesday--Shore Road, Lake Tahoe, California

. . . you’ll catch your first glimpses of Lake Tahoe and begin to understand why Mark Twain once wrote that it was 
“the fairest picture the whole earth affords.” [Source here]

 
Lake Tahoe, the lake of my childhood and adolescence.....
The 72-mile drive around the Lake was always a favorite activity and I have no idea how many times I have been on that road, but it was certainly not the Shore Road shown in this perfectly beautiful old postcard. I can also attest to the total lack of cows along that drive. There are certainly none close by the Lake, and the view of these two lazily clopping along the dirt road is a site I never imagined before. As sad as it sounds, I cannot envision Lake Tahoe in this kind of natural setting. But what a gorgeous place on the earth it is still today, and the drive around the Lake is well worth the trip.

Let's have some fun together and take a virtual tour around Lake Tahoe. Since I can choose a time in history for this trip I pick my childhood. Jump into my mother's Silver Streak convertible with my little sis on the left and me on the right there in the back seat (no seat belts, of course) and enjoy the smell of the pines and mountain-fresh air while viewing gorgeous Lake Tahoe from vantage points along the way.

Your Informative Virtual Tour of Lake Tahoe's Scenic 72 mile Shoreline
STARTS HERE

You are about to embark on a scenic journey unlike any in the world. This interactive web map is designed to guide you through many of the natural and man-made wonders in the Lake Tahoe Basin, all on "The Most Beautiful Drive in America."

Lake Tahoe is the largest alpine lake in North America. It's 22 miles long and 12 miles wide and contains an estimated 39.75 trillion gallons of water, enough to cover the entire state of California to a depth of 14 inches. The water is 99.99% pure, and it's said that a white dinner plate can be seen to a depth of 75 feet. Lake Tahoe's altitude is 6,225 feet above sea level. It is bisected by the California/Nevada state line. Spectacular recreation, entertainment and scenic beauty can be enjoyed year-round.

I liked that tour a lot. If the Virtual Tour wasn't enough for you below is a time-lapse video, taken from a later model vehicle than the convertible, along a portion of the shoreline road.

I think my inner child will linger in Tahoe awhile in a ducky inner tube.

(I had never heard the sweet song played in the time-lapse video and felt a need to identify it.  
Sierra Nevada was written by Joel Herron. The version playing in the video may be sung by
Jimmy Wakely, or possibly by the Sons of the Pioneers who cut several different versions. Click here for a different video with the song sung by that group -- the video features beautiful scenes of the Sierra Nevadas, including at Lake Tahoe.)

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In Memorium: Tommy.......be ready, heart, for parting

Stages

~by Hermann Hesse

As every flower fades and as all youth

Departs, so life at every stage,

So every virtue, so our grasp of truth,

Blooms in its day and may not last forever.

Since life may summon us at every age

Be ready, heart, for parting, new endeavor,

Be ready bravely and without remorse

To find new light that old ties cannot give.

In all beginnings dwells a magic force

For guarding us and helping us to live.

Serenely let us move to distant places

And let no sentiments of home detain us.

The Cosmic Spirit seeks not to restrain us

But lifts us stage by stage to wider spaces.

If we accept a home of our own making,

Familiar habit makes for indolence.

We must prepare for parting and leave-taking

Or else remain the slaves of permanence.

Even the hour of our death may send

Us speeding on to fresh and newer spaces,

And life may summon us to newer races.

So be it, heart: bid farewell without end.

Tommy died on May 5, the day I posted my shots of a double rainbow. I have been in a place of inner silence since learning on May 13 that he is gone.

He was the boy I wrote about having fought over with a girl on the schoolyard in third grade. Later that year he was injured during recess and fled into the school bleeding (was he crying? I don't think so). I loved him so that I followed him and, seeing drops of his blood in a trail along the hallway, I yanked paper towels from the girls bathroom and began wiping up his blood from the old-growth hardwood floor. A teacher, looking quite puzzled and repulsed, demanded that I stop.

We were friends for so long. The summer after graduating high school we had our first and only date. It was a drive up to Lake Tahoe and we may have had a meal.....I don't remember. What I do remember is holding his hand as he drove and talking about who we each had become since grammar school. I think we each had that 18-year-old sensation that time was passing quickly now and we felt a need to tidy up loose ends, make sense of youth, take the day to dream of our futures. The friend vibe between us, so firmly established, precluded romance from blooming. As I paused to think about that last sentence my eyes filled with tears because there are no regrets--only gratitude--that we trusted in the beauty of our friendship. 

The photo here is us at our 20th high school reunion, twenty years ago. His wife took the shot with their young ones nearby. She and I exchanged Christmas cards for some years afterward, but in the days before email and online social networking it was easy to simply drift apart from friends. We never thought it was farewell.......until it suddenly was.

National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-TALK (8255)

selected translation of Hesse poem from this site

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Old Postcard Wednesday--Washoe County Court House and Hotel Riverside, Reno, Nevada

It's hard to believe that when the Washoe County Court House was built in 1872 it was "outside of the original plat of Reno on the south side of the (Truckee) river," despite open opposition to the County Commissioners' decision to place it there. In fact, during the site selection process the Nevada State Journal wrote:

In making a permanent location for the courthouse, the County Commissioners should not be influenced by the selfish interests of this or that man. Reno is a permanent and growing town, and the courthouse should be located with a view to the future. It should not be too near the river, for the noise and confusion of the rushing waters, whenever the river is at a high stage, is a very serious objection. It should not be on or near the business streets of the town, where the noise and clatter of the surrounding business would seriously interfere with court affairs. It should be located sufficiently near the business portion of the town, on a plat of ground large enough for plenty of room on all sides of the building, so that the surroundings can be adorned with shade trees and ornamental shrubbery. [Source: Washoe County Clerk's Office]

The trees in the drawing are obscuring the lovely dome of the Court House, which can be seen in some nice inside shots at the Court House Web Photo Gallery.

Last August, I featured a beautiful, much-older postcard of this area of Reno showing a vintage Riverside Hotel. You can view the postcard and read some history of The Riverside at that post: Reno, Nevada, Along Virginia Street.

The video below is actually a very good nine-minute drive through downtown Reno, where, evidently, "the noise and clatter of the surrounding business [that] would seriously interfere with court affairs" is no longer a concern. The concerns of the citizens back in the early 1870s for Reno's future are like specks of dust long ago paved over.

In this video at the 1.24 minute point you will see on the left the Court House and what remains of The Riverside. These views are shown and explained by the narrator up to the 2.50 min. mark. By the 3.44 min. mark you'll be driving over the Truckee River and the rest of the drive gives you a sense of the downtown casino area. 
 




This post is dedicated to my childhood friend, "Kp," with whom I've recently been "techy reunited" via Facebook. She emailed me last week saying she enjoys these old postcards, so I think she deserves one that will bring back some personal memories of the town where we grew up together. She, now living in the Southwest, and I, here in the Pacific Northwest, might take a few minutes for a mental journey back to the place where we were best friends all through fifth grade. "Kp" reminded me that we were separated into different sixth grade classes, a memory that brought back the sadness. Years later we graduated in the same high school class and then lost all contact until late 2009. When her birthday card to me arrived in the mail a month ago I swear I recognized her handwriting instantly, even before reading the return address.

Back in third grade it was really exciting when our thumbnail class photos were placed next to one another in the full-class photo sheet. Exciting then, and handy now because it was easy to scan. "Kp" is the darling little red-headed girl on the left. I'm the one with the butterfly stitches bandaged on my forehead and scuffs on my chin. Honestly, I wasn't much of a tomboy as a girl.....but I made exceptions when it came to fighting for love! I wonder if "Kp" remembers which boy inspired my tussle with that girl named Debby who moved a few months later up to Virginia City, of all places.

My mother was horrified by this photo but I absolutely adored it. After the "incident" and while she was at work, I cut my bangs to show off the bandage installed by the school nurse, and the following morning - the day of the photo shoot - my head hurt too much for my mother to work with my hair. All these years later, these shots remain my favorite school pictures of both "Kp" and me.......two little Reno girls.

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Old Postcard Wednesday--Tahoe Tavern, Lake Tahoe

Please visit Owen's blog to read his contemplative poem in a post titled Haiti Shaken . . .  It includes amazing B&W photos of his trip there in 1997.

The internationally famous Tahoe Tavern was built in 1901. The Tahoe Tavern was designed by Walter Danforth Bliss for the Duane Bliss family. Walter Bliss was also the architect for the Ehrman Mansion; this explains why the two structures are similar in appearance.

In 1906 a 60 room annex south of the main hotel was built. A second floor was added in 1907 that included a casino with bowling alley, novelty and barbershops, and a ballroom with stage.
Other construction projects in 1907 made the Tavern an almost self-sustaining entity with a physician's office, a laundry, a steam plant and a water system, which brought piped water from above Tahoe City.

In 1925, a $250,000 "luxurious, elegant" new wing was added. The casino also added the bar the same year and in 1926, the coffee shop, sundeck and pleasure pier with rocked-in boat wells were built. With the advent of automobiles, it was necessary to add garages, which were constructed in 1927, along with tennis courts and a livery stable.

One could, upon arriving in Truckee on the mainline railroad, transfer to the narrow gauge line and travel to the Tavern in Tahoe City for $1.50. You would ride the passenger car, which was behind the ever-present freight cars. After dropping its passengers at the Tavern station, the train would go out on the long Tavern pier to meet the Steamer "Tahoe", which made the daily mail run around the lake in eight hours. . .

The Tahoe Tavern burned down in the 1960s. After the fire the structure was torn down. The Moana Development Corporation then purchased the property and constructed the present condominiums in three phases between 1966 and 1969.

Today the pool and rock stairway on the middle meadow stand as a reminder of the original historic Tahoe Tavern.

 ~The History of Tahoe Tavern from Tahoe Tavern Properties website
(home page at website has slide show of current properties and stunning lake views)

The postcard was sent by my mother to her mom after having spent a day off work at a friend's "Tahoe home 'midst the pines & how we enjoyed it." It was 1955, and she was twice divorced and working in Reno as a blackjack dealer six days a week. Her one day off was given over to us and play, frequently at Tahoe or at various hot springs pools around the area.

She signed my sister's name and my name to the greeting because we were not writing yet, and, in fact, I was too young to remember that particular day in the sun midst the pines. But I remember the Tahoe Tavern from many other day trips and family vacations as the years went by.

And I remember the look in my mother's eyes each time we would pass by the old place, and then she and I would exchange glances in an understanding moment that assured her...yes, I well knew that she and my father worked at the Tahoe Tavern and had separate employee quarters there when their love was young and passionate and carefree, before I came along, before my father's alcoholism destroyed all of it. Sometimes, in that moment of memory for her -- that had become a transferred story to me -- her excitement for what once was could be felt in the car as an energy force all its own and it was in those times that I knew she would later that night create a private moment with me so she could retell. Relive. Relive the memories of him coming to her desk in the management office to suggest that they take blankets to the sand and be together on warm summer nights, waking in morning's light with the slapping of small waves on shore and running back to the area in Tahoe Tavern where breakfast was served to employees before the new day's work began.

I never had a love quite as insane with intensity as theirs was.
Such a pity.......such a blessing.

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Wonderful Copenhagen warms my heart

Copenhagen Harbor by nbreau

There were two sixth-grade classes at Mount Rose School in Reno when I became a sixth-grader there. My teacher, Mrs. Haight, was a capable, moon-faced, gray-haired woman who had a special interest in maintaining a friendly sort of order in her classroom. Somehow we knew that it would not be worth testing her limits, and so, order prevailed. She brought history alive and was marvelous at bringing huge pull-down maps alive with stories that she sometimes supplemented with slide shows of places around the world.

Mrs. Haight, who signed my autograph book at the end of the year: To my talkative girl, was a better-than-average teacher. But she was not musical, and there is where the other sixth grade class excelled in luck by having been blessed with a teacher who conducted a music hour each day. My desk was in the far right row of the classroom, the side that shared a wall with the musical sixth graders. Situated in the wall next to where I sat was a built-in bookcase that cut the depth of the dividing wall enough for me to clearly hear the piano playing for the the other class as they learned new songs. In fact, if I shut out what Mrs. Haight was talking about and concentrated really hard I could pick out words and sometimes entire phrases to those songs.

My favorite song that I learned through the wall with the other sixth grade was Wonderful Copenhagen. As they rehearsed line-by-line I had to control myself to not hum when they got to the glorious chorus led by the piano's flourish. I was so smitten with the tune that, in the lunchroom one day, I sought out a former fifth-grade friend who was fortunate enough to be in the other sixth grade class and I asked for confirmation of the title and all the lyrics of the song. She fleshed out the whole piece for me as we ate. Wonderful Copenhagen was the most wonderful thing I learned in the sixth grade. I finally had the soundtrack for Mrs. Haight's slide shows and for my own daydreams.

(It's not lost on me now that this is, basically, a drinking song.)

Years ago the Danish Capital was knicknamed Wonderful Copenhagen. It happened in 1952 when the Hollywood movie Hans Christian Andersen became an international success at the time. It was a fictionalised, romanticised story revolving around the life of the Danish poet and story-teller Hans Christian Andersen, not a 'biographical' movie.
The lead role of the Hans Christian Andersen movie was played by Danny Kaye and the song Wonderful Copenhagen soon became an evergreen in the USA as well as abroad. The Wonderful Copenhagen song was written and composed by the American lyrist and composer Frank Loesser.- from VisitCopenhagen.com

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Songs My Mother Taught Me . . . Barney Google (With the Goo-Goo-Googly Eyes)

{This is the fourth in an undetermined number of songs my mother taught me I'm posting this month in her memory. For background, please visit the post containing the first song, Ivory Tower.}

My mother sang a song from her own childhood for my little sister and me when we were kids that made us all giddy, especially when we learned enough to sing the chorus along with her. Barney Google (With the Goo-Goo-Googly Eyes), for us, however, had nothing to do with all I've learned about the comic strip while putting this post together. I love political cartoons but have never been a huge comic strip fan, so I didn't know until now that the comic strip was the inspiration for the song. So, if not about a comic character, what exactly was the significance of Barney Google for my mother and then for us?

It involved memories of her childhood pet turtle, named Barney Google by her brothers. No photos survived the years but I imagine Barney Google looked something like this turtle named Zeppe discovered here with other great photos of turtles of all kinds. From her description of him it's most likely that Barney Google was an Eastern Box Turtle.

My mother's family lived in New Rochelle, New York during the time they had the pet turtle, in a large three-story home with large front and back yards. Barney Google slept inside the house, in a wooden box with damp wood shavings, from which he was removed each morning by Nellie, my grandmother, who was up early to begin breakfast for my grandfather, their three sons, and my mother, who was the youngest in the family. At dawn, Nellie put Barney Google outside in the flower garden against the back of the house. And the turtle's day began. It was comprised of the exact same daily walk, snacking and sleeping along the way. Always heading in the same direction, Barney Google walked slowly in the sheltered, soft border around the circumference of the house, one time around. To my childhood wonder (and it still amazes me to think of it now), the trek around the house took him exactly until dinner time, when he could be found waiting at the bottom of the back porch steps to be carried inside.

As winter approached and it was evident that Barney Google was ready to hibernate, a place was made for him in a part of the basement where the floor was dirt and he dug in using the soil and wood shavings. The family checked his area periodically during the winter, but Nellie was in tune with the rhythms of nature and usually approached Barney Google's corner of the basement in spring to find signs that he was awakening.

The end of the story is sad. A special container was readied for Barney Google's transport when the family moved some years later to Florida. My mind has blocked the particulars that used to make me cry hysterically as a child. What I recall is that the water supply spilled or wasn't sufficient for the length of the trip. Barney Google did not survive the move.

(More information about the Eastern Box turtle)

"Edison Blue Amberol cylinder record No. 4757, by Billy Jones and Ernest Hare, recorded April 13, 1923. This cylinder recording was dubbed from an Edison Diamond Disc record," writes phonophilo who uploaded this great addition to youtube, adding "This record is being played on my table top Edison Amberola DX cylinder phonograph which was manufactured in 1914." ...........[My mother was born in 1915, so it's likely that she listened to Barney Google on a phonograph similar to this.] 

BARNEY GOOGLE lyrics

(Rose / De Beck / Con Conrad)
Billy Jones & Ernest Hare, Thomas & West 

Who's the most important man this country ever knew?
Do you know what politician I have reference to?
Well, it isn't Mr. Bryan, and it isn't Mr. Hughes.
I've got a hunch that to that bunch I'm going to introduce:
(Again you're wrong and to this throng I'm going to Introduce:)
Barney Google, with the goo-goo-goo-ga-ly eyes.
Barney Google had a wife three times his size
She stood Barney for divorce
Now he's living with his horse

Barney Google, with the goo-goo-goo-ga-ly eyes.
Barney Google bet his horse would win the prize.
When the horses ran that day, Spark Plug ran the other way.
Barney Google, with the goo-goo-goo-ga-ly eyes. 

Who's the greatest lover that this country ever knew?
And who's the man that Valentino takes his hat off to?
No, it isn't Douglas Fairbanks that the ladies rave about.
When he arrives, who makes the wives chase all their husbands 
out? 
Why, it's Barney Google, with the goo-goo-goo-ga-ly eyes.
Barney Google is the guy who never buys.
Women take him out to dine, then he steals the waiter's dime.
Barney Google, with the goo-goo-goo-ga-ly eyes.

Barney Google, with the goo-goo-goo-ga-ly eyes.
Barney Google is the luckiest of guys.
If he fell in to the mud, he'd come up with a diamond stud.
Barney Google with the goo-goo-goo-ga-ly eyes.

Who's the greatest fire chief this country ever saw?
Who's the man who loves to hear the blazing buildings roar?
Anytime the house is burning, and the flames leap all about,
Say, tell me do, who goes, "kerchoo!" and puts the fire out?
Barney Google, with the goo-goo-goo-ga-ly eyes.
Barney Google, thought his horse could win the prize.
He got odds of ten to eight; Spark Plug came in three days late.
Barney Google, with the goo-goo-goo-ga-ly eyes.

Barney Google, with the goo-goo-goo-ga-ly eyes.
Barney Google tried to enter paradise.
When Saint Peter saw his face, he said, "Go to the other place".
Barney Google, with the goo-goo-goo-ga-ly eyes.

From the official Barney Google comic strip website:

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith is one of the longest-running comic strips in history. Created by Billy DeBeck in 1919, it first appeared in the sports section of the Chicago Herald and Examiner as "Take Barney Google, F'rinstance." It starred the cigar-smoking, sports-loving, poker-playing, girl-chasing ne'er-do-well Barney Google. By October of that year, the strip was distributed by King Features to newspapers all across the country.

In 1942, Barney Google was inherited by DeBeck's long-time assistant, Fred Lasswell, who continued to draw the strip until his death in March 2001. John Rose, who inked the strip for Lasswell, continues the tradition today.

This tremendously popular feature boasts clients in 21 countries and 11 languages. It has added several phrases to the American vernacular, including "sweet mama," "horsefeathers," "heebie-jeebies" and "hotsie-totsie." It has been the inspiration for a hit song, "Barney Google (With Your Goo-Goo-Googly Eyes)," and is one of a few historical comic strips to be honored on a special set of U.S. postage stamps.

Does the origination of Google's name have anything to do with old Barney Google? According to a blogger in France, the answer is no.....or?


Available at ebay for $2,499.99  !  (There are other vintage Barney Google and Spark Plug items at this ebay page.)

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