While checking over my document for “widows” and “orphans” I ran into some truly horrid writing so I’ve suspended my re-pub effort and am going to post some pieces from TinHats. First, the Duke.
Stop straining. Don’t talk and calm your heart…down, down, down…along the spine between the shoulder blades and then upwards, into the chest.
Destroyed buildings in remote parts of the world were better than five-star hotels. I was here to scout for a narrow stretch of the river suitable to construct a footbridge. The old bridge had been cut by the military and the rusty cables were dragging in the current of clear mountain water. The banks had been eroded by the rains and on the other side I could see a few Indian huts and a line of smoke in the trees. I was just north of the Ixil Triangle in Guatemala. The war was sputtering to an end, but try telling that to landmines or people disappeared by the military or potshot by some grim band of the EGP.
Breathe evenly; otherwise the hyperventilation will start.
Blog-wise, I’m slowing down folks. I have plenty of excuses but the big one is, I’m getting ready to self-publish and it’s not that easy. No time to trespass for pictures of doors. However, there was no need to go out of my way for this shot:
They aren’t the most spectacular doors in the world but this building is special to me. For five years I spent every Tuesday morning in the art studio at the back learning to sculpt (click here to see the results).
According to this map of Old Orinda, the building (numbered 17) was constructed in 1925 and served as a high school before earthquake preparedness became such a concern. Now it’s a place for young and old to learn, exercise and create.
Behind the center is the outdoor theater so I had to take a peak.
Looks like they’re getting ready for the next show: Love, Sex and the IRS. Gotta see that one!
Somehow I think this soon-to-be posh stationary store is targeting a shorter clientele than the tall young lady with the wiener dog, don’t you? When I first moved to this area, Walnut Creek was a sleepy mid-sized town built over farmland previously used for. . . yup, you got it. Growing nuts. Hey, it’s California – what did you expect? Now it’s almost a city.
Last month I posted pictures of an outdoor stage being readied for a show. Well, guess what? My friend and I walked over one Sunday and saw the matinee.
Moments before the show.
On a sizzling day in bright sunshine, you have to stretch your imagination because the climatic scene takes place late at night. The show, Murder on the Nile by Agatha Christie, is a whodunit set entirely on the deck on a cruise ship (the audience is actually sitting in the Nile). Between scenes we were asked by the director to pretend it was lights out as they played Egyptian music and moved props around the stage.
They handled the issue of intermission by having the character who’d just been shot leap to his feet and yell “Intermission!”
According to the director’s note, the play was almost blacklisted in London. The reason: the cast included a maid and the Ministry of Labour objected. It’s hard to imagine an Agatha Christie play being offensive to anyone, isn’t it?
We ran into this gate on one of our many road trips from California to Utah. It’s decorated with sun-bleached antlers formerly belonging to deer and elk. Antler art is huge in the West and especially in eastern Nevada. I believe these gates lead to a camping ground because in the distance we could see Wheeler Peak, the highest mountain in Great Basin, a national park which runs along the Nevada and Utah border.
We had just passed Major’s Place, one of the last places to get a beer before heading into the Mormon stronghold of Utah.
This is the town of Major’s Place – just one building which is of course a bar.
As you can see the antler theme prevails here as well. It’s easy to miss Major’s Place as you speed along the highway, however if you do happen to spot it and stop, beyond the doors you’ll find more antler art, antler furniture and antler lamps. In that part of the world you just can’t overdecorate with antlers.
This guy got to keep his antlers probably because he looks like a dude you wouldn’t want to mess with.
I stole the bottom two images from Stay on Route 6, a website devoted to exploring the longest contiguous transcontinental route in the USA. Highway 6 is also known as the “Grand Army of the Republic Army” because it passes through many historic sites dating from the Revolutionary War. We didn’t go into Major’s Station as it was closed and it’s beyond foolhardy to trespass in eastern Nevada. You could end up in the ground and not in the slammer. Those folks love their guns
I once slept on the beaches of Nice. These were my companions: Elizabet, Soborek and Caroline. I don’t know them now but I imagine they’re thinking about waking that morning to the fishermen returning from the sea.
These are the doors to the Orinda Theatre, the symbol of my small town.
Over the years, the citizens of the town have fought many battles to protect this fine example of “streamlined moderne” architecture. As a movie theatre it’s never been particularly profitable and so in order to keep it going the town has begun holding many different events in the large auditorium including a short lived film festival and a talent contest for kids called the “Orinda Idol.”
The murals inside the main auditorium depict the Four Elements of Man, a popular motif of the time (1941). I can’t show you the inside for two reasons – it’s too dark to get good pictures and I’ve been advised not to trespass by Norm Frampton, the creator of the #ThursdayDoor event (he won’t bail me out if I get caught) but here’s a description of what you would see:
As you enter the spacious auditorium, Anthony Heinsbergen’s lavish murals of The Four Elements of Man greet you. They are an eclectic combination of references to classical mythology and modern technology. Fruits and flowers represent Earth, an Aqua God depicts Water, wings and a stylistic airplane portray Air and workers forging steel symbolize Water. The hand painted murals stretch from floor to ceiling. In recognition of Heinsbergen’s contribution to American mural design, the Smithsonian curated a special traveling exhibition, “Movie Palace Moderne” in 1972-1974 highlighting 43 examples of his monumental achievement which included 3 of the original water color drawings of the murals. Said to be some of Heinsberger’s favorites, the originals are still in the office Sweeping curves of wood and iron rail work, warm neon tucked behind oval coves, nudes floating among stars and a red and gold butterfly with the body of a boy complete the embellishments. This was the rich architecture of fantasy that is missing in today’s theatres. From the Lamorinda Film and Entertainment Foundation website.
A familiar site in Orinda – fog rolling in from the bay.
Fun fact: Orinda, which was originally part of four different Spanish land grants, was named after the poem Matchless Orinda by a 17th century poetess named Katherine Philips. Philips wrote primarily about the platonic love women have for each other -because they lack the equipment to consummate their love sexually.
For the next few days I’ll be driving hither and thither and won’t have much time to blog so I’m going to leave you with links to Fourth of July posts from the last few years.
Last year for some reason I did not write a Fourth of July post. So here are some random pictures from the 2015 parade:
The Lafayette Fire District can never be accused of age discrimination!
I like to joke that there are more people in the parade than there are in the town. Often we have no idea why people are marching or who they represent. I suppose it doesn’t really matter!
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Anyway, that’s Fourth of July in small town America! Happy Fourth to all my American buddies and Happy Monday to everyone else!
I just watched the movie Layer Cake, a gritty blood bath in which every other word is “motherfucker” and every character is a con artist who gets shot to shit. The movie ends with Joe Cocker’s rendition of “I’m Just a Soul Whose Intentions Are Good” probably because the movie opens with the protagonist (Daniel Craig) telling us how he’s going to change his evil ways and get out of the drug trade. Poor guy just ends up getting in deeper and deeper until he becomes the frosting on the cake (a metaphor for killing your way to the top of a mob and not for getting some extra special reward).
One of the many dead bodies in Layer Cake
I don’t know what message viewers are supposed to take away from this movie other than drugs are bad and drug dealers are unreliable (really? whod’ve thunk?), but that song sent me running for a Google window.Does that ever happen to you?You hear a song and suddenly have to know everything about it. Who wrote it? Why? And then, of course, you have to blog about it because your followers have nothing better with their time than to read what you write about a song. I really do live a blogger’s fantasyland, don’t I? I need an intervention.
Anyway, if you’re still with me, over the years this song has hit the charts in a number of different genres – rap, soul, blues and, of course, rock and roll.It’s also been featured in countless movies besides Layer Cake, most notably Kill Bill and The Birdman.
The story of the song’s inception is a sad but probably familiar one to anyone in the arts or entertainment world. A musician of only moderate repute named Horace Ott wrote the original chorus line and melody after a “falling out” with his girlfriend. She took his plea for leniency to her partners and from it they created a song, apparently with jazz singer Nina Simone in mind.That was back in the early sixties when record companies owned the artists and Ott, not being in the proper union, was not included on the original credits. That must have stung. Here’s Simone’s rendition:
Her spin on the song is how it was intended. A plea for leniency. Unfortunately the record did not “chart” as they say and the song went widely unknown until a certain British group virtually made it their own.You know who, of course, unless you’re really, really young!
Eric Burden’s “soul with a bit of rock and roll” rendition hit Number 3 on the charts and the song was subsequently recorded by a gazillion others including: The Moody Blues, Elvis Costello, Cyndi Lauper, King Kong &D’Jungle Girls, Mike Batt, Trevor Rabin No Mercy, John Legend, Lou Rawls, New Buffalo and many more.Don’t ask me who some of those folks are because I don’t know. I did recognize this guy, who generally writes his own songs:
Cat Steven’s plea for leniency and understanding takes on a universal feeling, as if he’s asking the whole world not to be so quick to judge each other. It’s a good message.
These doors are magic in the making. One night soon the Starlight Players will emerge on stage to perform to small but loyal audiences. If you peak through the “windows” you’ll see another door.
Door to the dressing room?
Prop room?
I’m guessing the above pic shows the prop room. I was trespassing as all good ThursdayDoors folk must at some point or another. The Players are in the process of getting ready for their first performances of the summer. On the day we visited no one was working on the set but this is a community theatre group, most of whom probably have day jobs. For obvious reasons they don’t perform in the winter!
View from the stage, the stone stairs on which the audience sits.
I dabbled a bit in theatre in high school but I’m shy and can’t act so I primarily either helped with set design or props and watched the magic from behind the curtains. There’s a lot of flurry backstage during a performance. A lot of excitement. It’s addictive like so many things, for instance, blogging. I tell myself I must stop. The day is beautiful and there are things to see and do. But here I sit.
In honor of Father’s Day, a repost from last year.
This is a day on which those of us whose fathers have died often flay about with our emotions.At least I do.
My father’s words could kill. He had no patience with sickness, weakness or young children. His idea of the perfect family vacation was a grueling four hour back-packing trek up the face of Mt. Whitney (generally behind a pack of pooping donkeys), followed by a night spent next to an insect-infested lake with no plumbing facilities and the likely prospect of a visit from a bear.
On the other hand, he was a Renaissance man, well-versed in the Greek mythology, astronomy, literature and classical music. As a pilot he was a madman in the skies but on the ground, never once got a traffic ticket. He never swore and always had a book in his hands. He often said “when I become a burden to the tribe, I will wander out into the desert with just the clothes on my back.” I don’t know how many times I heard him say that, especially as his parents aged. I’m sure it comes from the years he spent with the Sioux.
We fought about everything.He was a hunter while I liberated rabbits from their cages. He supported the Vietnam War while I helped friends burn their draft cards.He wouldn’t let me ride on the back of motorcycles with boys so I bought my own Honda 90.
He ordered me not to live with my boyfriend before getting married. You can probably guess what I did.
For someone perceived as somber and dignified, he did have his quirks.He insisted on wearingWWII era ski pants which flapped in the breeze as he marauded down the slopes. My sister and I called him Flappy Pants.
WWII Era Ski Pants
Although his eye sight was excellent, he often went to work wearing mismatched socks.He had a legendary weakness for bow ties, particularly red bow ties. And he often got so wrapped up in the lab he forgot about his classes.They tried to make him Dean of Engineering and it was a total disaster.He was far too honest and forthcoming with his opinions to run the department or get along with other college VIPs.
He lived long enough to laugh at the fact Arnold Schwartzenegger was elected governor of California but not long enough to see the rise of Obama, which is a shame as I think he would have been proud. Racist was one thing he could never have been called.
Dad didn’t die in the desert with just the clothes on his back. He died in the Pacific Ocean in his speedos. I like to think he was trying to swim to China.
Saying nothing in particular 