At Home On Piety Hill

I’ve been getting a whole slew of very thoughtful gifts over the past two weeks. The biggest surprise was the video, John Cipollina: Electric Guitarslinger. Brian, Kathy and boys (last name withheld for privacy) sent it to me for my birthday and I was just floored. It was totally unexpected. Words can’t express… Anyway…

John Cipollina was my first guitar hero. A friend’s older brother let us listen, through headphones, to Who Do You Love on Quicksilver Messenger Service’s Happy Trails album. I was captivated by his stinging tone and use of a Bigsby “whammy bar.” That’s all it took. I paid homage to my hero by painting a ginormous watercolor of John, which I started when I was about 15 or 16 and completed in 2002.

Unfortunately, I never did see Quicksilver with John in the lineup. Or, my favorite, Copperhead. The band had a $1.5 million contract with Warner Bros. and played straight forward rock and roll with nonsensical / comical lyrics (Kibitzer would have been roundly condemned in this day of politically correct finger wagging).

However, I did see him on some very special occasions. The first was at Winterland with Terry and the Pirates. John and Greg Douglass traded blistering solos… the photo below shows John with Terry Dolan… I don’t know who shot it.

A few years later, I saw John with the short lived band Freelight. I think that was the band that inspired him to reach for his full potential, playing fusion with Pam Tillis on vocals. Pam was the daughter of Mel Tillis… she would go on to become a huge country star. I got to meet John and chat with him that night at the Starwood in Los Angeles.

A friend went back stage and played John’s signature “batwing” Gibson SG.

Finally, in 1980, I heard on the local radio station in Grass Valley that the Novato Frank Band, featuring John Cipollina, was playing a benefit in the remote town of Alleghany. Denise and I drove up there as fast as we could and there they were! I got some great photos of John that day. For some reason, I felt awkward and didn’t speak to him… I really wish I had.

I remember being at work in Camptonville when I heard the news that John died in May of 1989. He was too young.

The video is a lot like a home movie… I think that was by design… John’s identity was inextricably bound up in his family… his mom and dad, sisters and brother.

What did I learn from the video that I didn’t know? A few things. First, John had a twin sister. I also found out that he was attractive… that women fell all over him, but he was a gentleman. Nick Gravenites relates that women would go to John’s hotel room and Nick would check in on them at 1AM… they would be talking. Check back at 3AM… still chatting. At 7AM, John would see them to the door… they thought they were going for a romantic interlude, but John just treated them as fans. That was refreshing. It seems John was very likeable, that he would speak with anyone who approached him and give them his full attention, and that he was a bit of a joker. I was surprised to find that most of the vibrato on his records really was done with his Bigsby and not his left hand on the neck. He had big hands with long fingers, perfectly suited to classical guitar, but he never felt he was strong enough to perform the bends and finger vibrato so common to blues or rock guitar. Last but not least, I discovered that John was a bishop in The Old Catholic Church! I just hope he trusted in Jesus.

Now Thomas (called Didymus), one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord!” But he said to them, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe it.” A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.” Thomas said to him, “My Lord and my God!” Then Jesus told him, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” John 20:24-29

Bunny Days
Today is Bunny Days (sic) in Mission Viejo California, the pioneering planned community and birthplace of famous modern artist, Sam Salisbury (1977). “This family-oriented event includes egg hunts, carnival game booths, crafts, family games, pony rides, and a visit by the ‘Bunny.’”

Meanwhile, at a senior community on the other side of town, a different sort of hunt takes place. While children roam the landscape, searching for colorful Easter eggs at Bunny Days, the Casta del Sol homeowners have hired a sniper to whack marauding bunnies, which are allegedly reaking havoc on native shrubs and plants, according to this March 25th story in the LA Times.

South O.C. Community Has Rabbits in Its Sights
“It’s a quality-of-life issue,” said Councilman Lance MacLean. “They’re a pest. We really weren’t left with a whole lot of options. We have tried trapping, so we’ve kind of gone to our last resort.”

Other interesting solutions included arming seniors with shoulder fired rocket launchers or tazers for personal protection:

“Maye Russ, head of the community’s greenbelt committee, has been lobbying City Hall to allow residents to arm themselves against the rabbits for three years. She said a recent informal poll showed that nearly 90% of residents were in favor of shooting bunnies to protect their landscaped lawns.”

Stealthy and humane predators have been used in other locales to control the “wascally wabbits,” but proved problematic in the Casta del Sol ecosystem, because of the natural hunters’ lack of discrimination:

“In past years, the city considered bringing in foxes but backed off because they would go after not only rabbits, but also small dogs and cats.”

It seems to me that some solution could be reached by bringing together the organizers of Bunny Days and the Casta del Sol homeowners. Perhaps next year Bunny Days could include a barbeque dinner for the entire community.

Disneyland is a great place for unanticipated brushes with cartoon characters, old friends or even a celebrity or two. Back in the mid-80’s, our family hit the jackpot.

Denise and I are natives of Whittier, so we’ve known Disneyland since… well, practically since the day we became aware of our surroundings. The first thing seasoned Magic Kingdom visitors discover is that you never want to visit during August and you only go during the Summer or school vacations if you positively have to (when your weird cousins visit from out of state, for instance). Anyways, we found that the optimum times are around November or February and always while school is in session. The weather is usually perfect, the lines are short and the park is only open for about 8 hours, so you’re not tempted to over do it.

I believe we were there during November on a chillier than usual, overcast day and the crowd was predictably small. While we were waiting to enter the Magic Kingdom, we noticed two families keeping to themselves and away from the crowds. They were obviously trying to mask their identities by wearing sunglasses, but this strategy only made them stand out – no one else was wearing sunglasses that day!

They looked familiar and after a few minutes of scrutiny, we figured out that it was John Travolta and Kenny Loggins with their families. A scan of the crowd revealed that many others had identified the celebs, as well. This was during a lull in Mr. Travolta’s career… some would say he was finished at that point, right before he got his big boost from Pulp Fiction and other major roles. Kenny Loggins’ looks are not as striking or outstanding as John’s, so I’m not sure if many people figured out who he was.

We continued to run into these folks throughout the day and I was so pleased to see how everyone seemed to give them space. I never saw anyone approach them as we stood in lines together and not one photo was snapped that I could see. I thought that was real thoughtful. The last time we saw them was sitting in the waiting area for The Country Bear Jamboree… that’s how I’ll always remember the last and only time I saw John Travolta and Kenny Loggins in person.

Oh, I almost forgot. Denise and I saw Olympic champion Peter Vidmar there once and the last time we went to Disneyland as a family (visiting from Maine), we ran into Roy Disney and his party sitting on a bench between Fantasyland and Frontierland.

Have you ever unexpectedly bumped into someone you knew or recognized at Disneyland?

It was a Good Friday at work yesterday… a darling little five-year-old girl with red hair and green eyes came in to bring me a Spring flower bouquet. She and I sometimes chat through the Post Office boxes when she comes into the lobby with her grandma. She will say, “Bo?”

Instead of answering, I will pop the box from the inside and wave my hand, like Thing on the Addams Family or I will imitate the Cookie Monster through the mail drop. Those two characters seem to get the best response. Other times, I simply act like a real Postmaster.

I rummaged around for a flower vase, but the only thing I could find was this unused spray bottle in the custodial closet. I think it accentuates the bouquet (Spring flowers exploding or bursting forth) and the frosted appearance of the plastic gives it a muted, dignified look, focusing all attention on the flowers.

Because I am flower illiterate, I had to check with Denise to see what we have here. Let’s see, there are a couple of daffodils and a tulip. The others are grape hyacinth and your generic hyacinth.

There are some things I do know, however. Those of us who understand a little French, pronounce bouquet “boo-kwet” with the emphasis on the second syllable. If I was sure most of my readers were from Maine, I would have described my little friend as cunnin’, which is the approximate translation of darling or cute.

I’m tired… and, when I’m worn out, I can’t stand the thought of losing productive time. If I’m in pain, I will rent a film or do something creative like work in Photoshop or fine tune some HTML or CSS. I’ve found these to be the most effective pain management techniques. But, when I’m just plain tired, I’ll do busy work, like add links to the left column of the blog. I hope you like some of the new ones.

Oh, and even though it says to “Read more” down here, don’t believe it… there’s no more to read.

Back in the good old days, our local newspaper provided a valuable service to the community. The Union Opinion Page was a virtual village square, where lively discussion and debate was carried on before the eyes of an inquisitive and sophisticated readership. Our family moved to Maine and returned in 1996 to find that the tenor of the Letters to the Editor had changed for the worse.

Responding to writers by name was no longer allowed, nor was it deemed appropriate to answer issues raised in previous letters, point by point, and in a timely manner. I believe this was the editor’s attempt to cool things down a bit. However, it seems that it only exacerbated the problem and when letters were limited to 200 words with one submission per month, all Hades broke forth in a torrent of angry memos. Because writers were limited to one letter per month, they were forced to become less nuanced and more outrageous in making their point.

The editor solicited opinions on the new editorial rules and I responded, as best I could, with this drastically edited observation:

A friend asked why I rarely read or respond to Letters to the Editor anymore. Years ago, Readers Write was my favorite feature. Two writers would spar for weeks on an issue and I came away challenged and better informed. However, The Union found it necessary to firm up its guidelines, limiting the length and frequency of letters to the editor. These well-intentioned measures have resulted in a combative, unedifying opinion page, where cramped writers drop in to lob a few insults, toss out questionable (often unverifiable) “facts” and speed away.

Raging hippies, paranoid comic artists, crop circle experts and one hater, who satirically labels himself a “decent, white, heterosexual, God-fearing, patriotic, Christian conservative,” have hijacked the opinion page. These angry, bitter, drive-by literary thugs insult their readers and their hypocritical appeals for peace, tolerance and understanding leave me laughing, but not entertained.

Newspaper and corporate television news have squandered their respect and prestige as the nation’s “watchdog.” Frankly, I no longer bother with the tendentious AP wire stories in The Union. I think we are better served by good, long discussions between informed and polite locals. I vote for an entire Opinion Section under a bit freer editorial rein.

The editor chose to publish a snippet from my letter to include in his summation of various opinions, but he ignored or rejected my thesis, i.e., that his new editorial guidelines were not helpful and did, in fact, put an end to any remaining civility. Perhaps the editorial rules will loosen up and we can turn back the clock to a day when discussions took place virtually unfettered, where readers were informed or enlightened and writers could submit more than one timely, well-reasoned response each month. Until that day returns, I will blog…

Denise and I had lunch at Fred’s in Nevada City on Saturday, ignorant of the fact that it was March 19 and there were rallies planned all over the country, marching for peace and protesting the war in Iraq. Now, I know I’ll be taken to task for this piece of satire, but I can’t help it. Funny stuff just happens to me all the time…

The demonstration in Nevada City was quiet and orderly… In fact, when I returned with my camera to document the event on the Broad St. overpass ten minutes later, it was over. The only evidence that an anti-Bush crowd had been engaged in a struggle against war, corporate greed and poverty, were the three late model Volvos left at the scene by lunching activists.

I stepped out in the street to snap these photos and was almost run over by a distracted Woman in Black, speeding away from the peace vigil, while lighting up a cigarette and lining the pockets of “big tobacco.”

I don’t know how the Nevada County contingent can hope to put an end to war and US hegemony with such little commitment and energy. When I drove by the first time, there were only a few dozen folks out on the bridge and they pooped out fairly early. To be fair, I heard a couple of busloads of the faithful headed to San Francisco to join the festivities down there (which also seemed pretty lackluster compared to former years). There was also a scheduling conflict, which I discovered as I drove by the Miners Foundry. It’s not a good idea to have two major events vying for the attendance of the same demographic group.

Who knows… maybe the folks on the bridge had been there since sunup and were exhausted from hours of awareness raising. Or, perhaps they had simply gone to lunch and returned by the thousands after I (and my camera) had gone home. In any case, it was a solemn, dignified exercise of free speech.

The Autumn-Winter Lisbon Fashion Show ended today in Lisbon Spain and Portugese designer Dino Alves showed some… well, some provocative designs.

Did I stumble upon the showing of a collection of “voodoo doll apparel” or is this a collision of fashion, the culture of death and post-modern zeitgeist? I suppose I’m just not very sophisticated.

Have I seen anything I like this season, you ask? Well, I did see some nice prom dresses in the Alloy catalogue and there was a very nice formal white gown, with black flowers embroidered(?) accross the midriff and down the leg. But, I like this one the best. It’s bright and fun!

Men’s clothing is taking a positive, if more conventional, direction. I noticed Billy Joe Armstrong wearing a nice outfit with a black button-down shirt and red tie: this was complimented with narrow suspenders and silver hardware. The band, Interpol, caught my eye on the cover of SPIN magazine and I really like their look. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find the photo on the web yet, so this older one will have to do…

Fashion is so fickle. It’s like Maine weather: If you don’t like it, just check back in an hour and it will be different.

Blogging is a dangerous business for a Christian to engage in… Particularly when commenting on culture, politics, religion, art, humor, sexuality or other volatile subject matter.

One can come off sounding self-righteous and condescending, as I often do. Then, there’s also guilt by association: “That’s fine coming from the religion that gave us the Inquisition, the Crusades and the Salem Witch Hunts.” Finally, you open yourself up to insults by, so-called Christians, who want to hunt down witches, go on some kind of crusade or turn you over to the inquisitors!

Today, I was studying Paul’s letter to the Romans and I reached for Karl Barth’s classic commentary. Barth was neo-orthodox… he was probably a Universalist (which I am not) and he held a low view of Scripture, which I do not (do I smell a fire kindling?). He often unleashed a flood of meandering, baffling sentences and then, suddenly, tied them together in a very descriptive, orthodox paragraph. In what follows, Barth expresses the attitude I hope to maintain, while blogging.

God hath not cast away his people which he foreknew… Romans 11:2 (KJV)

Commenting on this verse, Barth wrote:

These words are not spoken from the security of the shore, or from the safer refuge of a lifeboat as it approaches, or pulls away from, a wreck. These words are spoken from the deck of a ship — as it sinks. Only one who is himself a Churchman knows what it is to sin against God, to betray Him and to deny Him. The man who does not know this, but thinks he is able to discover something better than the Church and its anguish, some private by-path which skirts the embarrassment of the Church and avoids that I also am, knows neither the tribulation which God has prepared for men, nor the guilt in which they are imprisoned in His presence, nor, consequently, the hope which arises in the evident misery of the Church. Hope is made known to us when we recognize that our tribulation comes from God, that it is in His presence that we are guilty, and that it is He who spreads out His hands unto a disobedient and gainsaying people.

I am often a disobedient and gainsaying Christian, intimately connected to the ekklesia, the assembly, which calls upon the name of Jesus while pratically denying Him at times. Our forgiveness and justification are found in a God, Who “spreads out His hands” to a guilty and undeserving people. So, I will continue to observe and comment, sometimes critically or negatively, on a variety of issues. But, I will try to avoid an air of smug self-righteousness and I will not deny my connection to “the embarrassment of the Church.” The observations and opinions on this blog are my own… please don’t hold them against my fellow Christians.

I was craving some Himalayan food on a sunny Saturday last Fall, so I decided to head down the Rough and Ready Highway to Didi Bhai. As I neared the old market, I saw an estate sale on the left side of the road. I couldn’t stop because I was on a mission: a buffet of curry, chutney, nan bread… you understand. So, on my way home I stopped and browsed around the small house and yard for treasures. I found one. The deceased are Christians and I found a few missing books for my library. There was also a Bible in near mint condition… leather, New American Standard… perfect for special occasions! So, I bought it… I think I paid $1. Later that week, I picked up the Bible to pull out old bulletins and other odds and ends. It had a cool bookmark in it with a list of all the books of the Bible. Then, I noticed a newspaper clipping that looked very familiar… it was a Letter to the Editor and the title was Only one God. It was folded in half, so I turned it over and there was my name! It was a Letter to the Editor I had written over 15 years ago and this person had clipped it out and kept it in their Bible all this time!

I bought some of those little library book pockets and put one in the Bible for the clipping. It will also include a little note about how it came to me… for posterity and to remind myself, from time to time, that God is involved in the little things, as well as the big!

O Lord, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O Lord. You hem me in — behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain. Psalms 139:1 - 6

The Work of Charles & Ray Eames: A Legacy of Invention
The Library of Congress has organized an exhibition, along with the Vitra Design Museum, celebrating the genius of Ray and Charles Eames. This amazing couple are probably best known for their contibutions to furniture and architectural design, but the fact is… they could do just about anything! Check out the site and marvel at the profound influence these two people have had upon the world you see around you each day.

Well, our chaise lounge arrived and it’s beautiful!

I think we have arrived at the look we’ve been trying to achieve with the living room. Note the end table with toothpick legs and Formica top next to the sofa. It is one of three stacking end tables… colors are green, gold and red.

We found this Eames era Danish coffee table a few weeks ago, but coffee will never touch it.

Instead, we placed it near the front door and have our guest book out to welcome visitors.

All in all, I think the new editions compliment the sectional and other items.

Our next project is a new (old) bedroom set. We have found a number of very nice pieces at the St. Vincent DePaul Thrift Store on Fulton in Sacramento, where we have struck up a great business relationship with the floor manager. The anticipation! I can hardly wait to see what we will find next!

Denise and I wanted to reach back to a more daring, stylish era… Have we gone too far?

Expandable Post Summaries
I had a few minutes to work on some formatting for the blog and found this neat trick…You see, with this little hack on the Blogger template, I can create the illusion that I am becoming a better writer — saying more with less. The truth is, it entices the reader with a line or two and then lures them into another massive tome, sucking away more of their valuable time.

But, it does have an advantage… the reader can scan the main page to see if there’s anything remotely interesting and decide if they want to find amusement here or go do something valuable with their time, like save the world from catastrophic climate change. What do you think?

A CU Prof Deserving of Sympathy

Lets face it… diversity and free inquiry are dead at the University of Colorado.
Yet, the contrast could not be clearer. In one case, it’s the traditional pandemonium we’ve come to expect in the legacy press and media: victimhood, sloganeering, awareness raising, people with “speech” taped over their mouths and a camera load of hysterics (by the way, did we export this annoying, ineffective strategy to “the Arab street” or is this another example of the west adopting another Islamic cultural advancement like mathematics, astronomy and the university?).

Meanwhile, in the refreshingly dignified case of Paul Mitchell at a quiet corner of the campus, no protests… no press conferences… just a blunt statement of fact:

“People say liberals run the university. I wish they did,” Mitchell says. “Most liberals understand the need for intellectual diversity. It’s the radical left that kills you.”

My favorite anecdote?

Mitchell taught at the Hallett Diversity Program for 24 straight semesters. That is, until he made the colossal error of actually presenting a (gasp!) diverse opinion, quoting respected conservative black intellectual Thomas Sowell in a discussion about affirmative action.

Sitting 5 feet from a pink triangle that read “Hate-Free Zone,” the progressive head of the department berated Mitchell, calling him a racist.

“That would have come as a surprise to my black children,” explains Mitchell, who has nine kids, as of last count, two of them adopted African-Americans.

Teeing Off at the Kabul Golf Course

Regardless of your opinion of Bush’s War on Terror, I think everyone can agree that these freedom fighters have earned the respect of the world. Many groups suffered under the tyranny of the Taliban, but at least two members of the Kabul Gulf (Golf) Club have paid dearly for love of the game, going all the way back to the Soviet occupation in the 80’s.

The term “bunker” is no metaphor on a course where “the entire area has had to be cleared of mines in recent months and three Soviet tanks and a multiple rocket launcher have been removed.” Hazards also include such immovable obstructions as a bombed out barracks and country club with collapsing walls.

But, these two enthusiasts see a brighter future for golfing in Afghanistan, now that the area is teeming with western aid workers. Anyone up for a foursome?

Wanna see something spooky… and, beautiful? I’ve been slowly adding links to my left column. Follow the hilmancurtis link under Art / Design I Like. Just keep watching. And, be sure to look at his work. I heard he was moving to Nevada County, but haven’t seen him yet.

One of the advantages of my defective and desultory education is a lifetime of discovery and learning! Kudos to the California educational system of the 60’s, leftist news organizations of the 70’s and the vacuous popular culture of the 80’s. (I suppose I should admit that I wasn’t a very enthusiastic learner in those days — it’s not like I was a total victim)

Lately, the chatter in the legacy media of filibustering of judicial nominees and “the nuclear option” in the US Senate sent me on an errand. What I really wanted to know was how a powerful parliamentarian strategy, like the manly filibuster Jimmy Stewart laid down on the oligarchy in Mr. Smith Goes To Washington, turned into some pansy maneuver, requiring no more effort than a long walk to the Congressional Cafeteria for a corndog.

Along the way, I learned that the longest debate and filibuster(s), since the cloture rule had been adopted in 1917, was 57 days. It concluded with a 14 hour and 13 minute filibuster by Senator Robert C. Byrd, Democrat and former Klansman from West Virginia, in opposition to the Civil Rights Act of 1964 . With the support of swing Republicans, the bill passed in the Senate on June 10th by a vote of 82 to 69 with Kleagle Bird and Senator Al Gore, Sr. voting against civil rights for African Americans.

I also discovered, contrary to nearly everything I was ever taught on the subject or saw editorialized in the pop-press, that in the 26 major civil rights votes since 1933, Democrats opposed civil rights in 80% of votes, while Republicans joined the majority in favoring civil rights in over 96% of the votes.

I was surprised to find that our very own Nevada County Republicans were leaders in the civil rights movement, nominating one of the first black candidates in the state of California, Isaac T. Sanks. It almost makes me ashamed to call myself a Democrat.

Don’t you just love choral music? What’s that? You could care less about it? Oh, well. I’m gonna sing its praises anyway.

Today I’ve been very tired and just moping around. I wanted to blog a bit, but nothing heavy. I took a nap with KXPR on the radio and woke an hour later to the most beautiful music being performed by the Sacramento Choral Society. Good, modern choral music is the closest thing to “angelic” as I can imagine. Of course, you can’t beat John Rutter’s sacred works.

That doesn’t mean I still don’t love other simpler, more common or vulgar (said with a condescending, blue blooded tone) forms of music, just as much as I always have. Mike Roe’s Orbis, Fun With Sound and DayDream are phenomenal and I have been listening to the first three albums by Little Feat almost non-stop for a month.

I first saw Little Feat around 1970 as the opening act to a “new” blues band from Boston, J Geils Band and headliner Johnny Winter And, featuring Rick Derringer. An old friend’s date stood him up, so he called me up at the last minute… 15 rows back, center at the Santa Monica Civic. That’s one of those shows I remember vividly to this day.

Anyways, I’d heard and seen guys play a bottleneck before, but nothing like Lowell George! Oh, my… Apolitical Blues!

My first month of blogging has blown by and, I suppose, is archived. If you look at the column on your left, you will see that some new categories and links have been added and, if you click on those links, you will get a distorted picture of what I like… there’s just not enough time to get everything up and running that I want to. Anyways, I hope you find something you like over there!