On Sunday we drove to Lakeport in Lake County to attend Naida’s brother Roger’s memorial. He had died of a heart attack on Easter Sunday morning. Roger was an accomplished artist, vocalist, and builder of log homes.
Roger’s painting of himself as a young manRoger performing with the Verismo Opera Company, Vallejo Ca.One of Roger’s log houses being built.
Lakeport is a small town or the western shore of Clear Lake. The memorial was held in the Seventh Day Adventist Church in Lakeport that Roger used to sing at.
After we arrived, we sought someplace to store the dog where he would not expire from the heat. The minister suggested we house him in the janitors closet during the ceremony. Which we did.
The ceremony began with the minister, welcoming us and giving a short sermon. It was followed by some hymns sung by the Verismo Opera Company and concluded with commentary by those wishing to speak
From top left clockwise: Roger’s paintings; the minister; Naida; Roger’s girlfriend and a friend; the Verismo Opera chorus.
Following the memorial and releasing the dog from the janitor’s closet we drove to Mendocino to spend the next few days with my sister Maryann and her husband George. We arrived at their home just in time for dinner. She had prepared two of my favorites eggplant parmigiana and ditalini from our mom’s secret recipe washing it all down with a bottle of Charbono. After dinner we were both so exhausted from all the driving that day that we went right to bed.
The next morning after breakfast we all left for a walk around the headlands. Along the way, I tripped just like I did the last time I was there. I fell and injured the same thumb I did in my prior fall.
On top: Naida and I in Mendocino village. I am grumpy because I had tripped and fallen moments before. On the bottom: George, Naida and the dogs of our walk along the bluffs and a typical garden scene in the village.
After our walk we returned to the house. A sort time later we noticed that Boo-boo the Barking Dog’s penis was grossly extended and he appeared to be in pain. After consulting internet for a remedy, Naida whipped up a small bowl of sugar paste. While she was kneeling on the floor next to the dog applying the paste to his penis she began to shout, “His penis is shrinking. It is working. His penis is shrinking.”Although, as a bearer of a similar appendage, I was happy for the dog, I had difficulty with the concept of a woman shrieking with glee at the shrinkage of a sugar coated penis. Perhaps, it is just another example of the collapse of verities in out time — Hmm, I suspect there is a pun buried in there somewhere.
The next evening we attended the grand re-opening of the Pub in Caspar a small village on the coast just north of Mendocino. It specialized in pretty good “Pub” food and provides live band music on Friday evening. The owner runs around the place with his newest child strapped to his chest while greeting guests.
From top left and clockwise: The Caspar Pub owner checking on things in the pool room; us at dinner; George staring at the desserts; the micro lending library Mary and George erected at the edge of the road by their property.
The following morning we left to return to Sacramento.
My last cup of coffee before departing Mendocino.
It was a long exhausting drive back to our home. So exhausting that we spent the next two days mostly in bed. On Saturday, we felt chipper enough to attend the Saturday Morning Coffee.
From left to right: Ducky — reputed spy, married an Admiral (now deceased) and mother to a son who with two broken legs after crashing his airplane in the Arizona desert crawled 20 miles to safety. Ed — Also a reputed spy, career high-level bureaucrat in US State Department and AID with many frightening stories such as personally observing the takeover of the Russian hydrocarbon industry by the Russian mob. Unknown woman. Artist (name unknown) who upon Naida introducing me to her as her boyfriend said, “Good for you dear, lately I have had to make do with only parking lot attendants.” Standing on the left: Jan — the woman who seems to delight in serving the rest of us coffee and cakes and is married to coach. To Jan’s right is a woman who I have not met. Sitting to her right is Coach (actual name unknown) member of the Nepenthe HOA board, high-school coach, civics teacher, ex-alcoholic, flaming liberal, part Cherokee Indian, believes conversation is only an opportunity to preach (I like that). To the right, The Soap Lady (name unknown) — Manufactures “Art Soaps” and sells them at the Coffee.
Later that day the handyman came by the house and hung Roger’s paintings on the walls. One of them, a painting of Roger and Naida’s mother, Alice, fascinated me. Naida saw her history in the painting, what was her mother thinking, would she have liked the way she was portrayed, and so on. I one the other had saw only the art – the way the color melded, the mystery of the woman pictured. It is a wonderful work of art. I sat there for an hour or so just staring at it.
The next day was the Fourth of July. We celebrated it in the morning by attending the first annual Nepenthe HOA 4th of July parade and picnic. It was a joy and absent false patriotism and war mimicking explosions. The crowd was made up primarily of the very old, the very young, and dogs. The children on decorated bicycles and a few old folks paraded along some of the paths in the Enchanted Forest while the rest of us cheered, engaged in inconsequential conversations and now and then picked up some dog-poop.
Later that day we went to Naida’s daughter Sarah’s home for their annual 4th or July party. Sarah and her husband Mark’s children, Isabel, a legislative aid and Charlie a local tennis professional were there along with Jennifer, Naida’s other daughter, her husband and two children, Josephine and Natalie. Some friends of their were there also. Sarah, told he she decided to take up painting again after many years. I always liked Sarah’s paintings. The dark palette of her landscapes were intriguing and mysterious. She showed us a seascape I had not seen before. It too had that dark palette, but where the errant rays of sun struck the rocks along shore, the bright strands of gold paint was magnificent.
We left before the dark and the fireworks. And so it goes…
Papa Joe's Tales, Fables and Parables 