RUDIMENTS, pt. 957
(people dig sunlight)
I did eventually, yet rather
quickly, put all that California
stuff right out of mind shortly
after returning. There had been
a river house along the Russian
River. It's a long story, but the
place is called Guerneville and
it's sort of the location of the
famed 'Bohemian Grove' secret
society of the world's most
prominent and often richest
men; said often to be ritualistic,
nastily secretive, and the
power behind many of the
thrones of the world today.
None of that would have
had anything to do with me,
but I wasn't real keen on the
proximity. This little place,
back then, 1976, was basically
a damp cabin, glorified some,
actually ON the river. At the
farther riverbank, away from
flood-side (hopefully). We
referred to it as 'Freeze-Out,'
though I'm not sure why now.
It had nothing to do with freeze
or temperature. It fact it was
mostly just damp and dank
there, at the water, down some
steps and passages built into
the land. Kind of strange.
Looking back now, I'm glad
the move was never undertaken,
though we came close. One
of my problems, it seems,
has always been some sort
of weird impulsiveness that
always gets me - doing some
move or action later seen as
too rash. I think this would
have been one of them. For
someone as bookish as me,
first off, the unrelenting damp
and most surroundings would
have wreaked havoc with any
books and papers. This was a
very basic, wooden home, with
no central dehumidifying or
any of that. It would have been
like living in a cloud, I'm sure.
-
Sonoma County. While all this
was going on I remember, in the
background of all things, watching
the headlines and some of the motel
TV junk that was on : very late night
stuff, all as if from another world.
Ronald Reagan was still a force
then, a few years for sure before
he too became President, but it
was different out there; he had
been their Governor too for
some time, so the emotions
and opinions about him were
very fixed, and quite strange too.
The entire thing was all jumbled
up, inasmuch as his 'Conservative'
values seemed so at odds with the
free and liberal environment
of the sunny-California ethos.
Any time he said anything or
each time something occurred,
his name popped back into the
forefront. I couldn't figure it
out. It was as if the place was
schizophrenic at heart or at core.
It all made me uncomfortable
because I found myself not
really being able to take to the
people. Everyone was always
frothy. Over-the-top with some
glimmer of 'happiness' that just
seemed like cotton-candy for brains,
to me. I don't really think I saw
anything of real value the entire
time there. I had a long conversation
somewhere along the line with
some vaguely Hispanic girl whose
topic seemed to be 'What Santa
Rosa means to me,' which was
the town she lived in. She spoke
like an automaton, about the 'town'
and about its parades and civic
cheer and religious centers and
all the wonderful, wholesome
people, etc. I wanted to just say,
'I'm not sure I actually care what
Santa Rosa means to you, so
cut it, Senorita.' But, no; as
if on the radio, she just kept
going on. It was like one of
those asshole Elks essay contests
they run for high school kids, to
write about 'America' to them.
A really bad record, stuck in
its groove, and this little lassie
did not have a clue as to what
America meant; in fact, I was
tempted to tell her to go back
and study at her 'City of the
Roses' Library what America
did NOT mean - which
included idiotic boosterism
about promises un-kept,
meanings betrayed, and
slaughters of innocents. Not
then knowing the Spanish
word for rectum, all I could
say was 'Shove it up your
Rectoria, Santa Rosa.'
-
Also, when you get out there
and they start with all that wine
country, Napa Valley stuff, I
say lay low. It's a trap. Have
you ever been in a situation
wherein lowly, regular, dumb
people pretend at gentility? If
not, any winery tour would be a
great place to begin. You can see
everyday schmunkos* washing
their palates so that they can
then taste, sip, and swoosh wine
around in their mouth, to detect
the hints of slate, cherry, rhubarb
and dolomite schist in the wine.
For which tastes, of course, they
are being directed to find by
suggestion of the tour person.
Such gentility, like polo ponies,
is difficult to detect in a field
filled with burros, but it's there.
The old stoneworks, the quaint
paths, and the living tour guides
make it all worthwhile. And
while you're there, make sure
you buy two bottles of the wine
called 'California Scam.' It's a
great vintage.
-
I knew two people who lived
in Napa Valley, one being a
girl I knew who'd grown up
in Port Reading here, a year
or two ahead of me. She was
a punctilious sort, and very
emphatic about rules and
decorum and schedules.
Not to my liking at all. She
had gone to Muhlenberg
College, I think in Allentown,
PA and Plainfield, NJ, and
become a nurse, full-fledged
RN type. Then she somehow
got to California and hooked
up, to marry, some funny old
Jewish guy named Eliot, who
was an old hippie with a string
of nursing homes. Go figure.
Two things about this that
bugged me: They lived like
royalty in Napa - large home,
grounds, cars, etc., and his string
of nursing homes (back then they
were still called that; for old
people to wither and die in),
was heavily subsidized by the
Government. I could only figure
a lot of this was dirty-dealing,
shaving money from this and
that in lieu of applying it to the
services due. Knowing the racket
they were apparently adept at
scanting the old folks and dialing
the funds elsewhere. In addition,
this Elliot guy had a classic VW
bus, the 1960's kind with the small
glass windows along the topsides.
In this vehicle, he insisted on his
taking us on a slow, point by
point tour of San Francisco, by
car - a sort of perfect guided tour
of most every sight and location
and fact he knew of, from having
lived there. It was grand, and
lasted almost the entire day. I'll
never forget how, while we
were waiting at a light and there
was some San Francisco type
guy leaning on the light pole,
eyes closed, face up to the sun,
just basking in the sunlight,
spotting him, Elliot told us,
'That's a sight you'll only see
here, in San Francisco.' I've
seen it lots of times since.
People dig sunlight, everywhere.
--
*Schmunkos - I made that up.
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