It’s strolling time again. Part of this column was written while recuperating from leg surgery and the rest, today, when I finally hit the Street. Summer arrived while I was off of my feet. The bookstore is packed with summer reads, the library is opening again, and Benicians and day trippers are in a celebratory mood. No fireworks or parade but that’s understandable given the conditions right now. As my old Papa Daddy used to say when asked what he was doing on the Fourth he’d answer — “I think I’ll shoot off my mouth.”
The well-dressed fellow who waves the American flag in front of Veteran’s Hall is back. I honked at him to show support and he called out — “How are you doing, good to see you.” Surprisingly he isn’t a vet himself but supports vets for their service and stands there waving the flag for hours showing gratitude for those risking their lives to protect us.
Looking out my window on a particularly warm day last week, saw a young couple doing synchronized yoga, their mats lined up on the scorched brown grass along B Street — down dog, cobra, warrior pose in flowing vinyasa. Hot yoga, no doubt. Later, a car with an old fashioned travel trailer was trying to back up to park. Back in the day, my parents rented a Shasta trailed — an Art Deco style classic that housed all five of us. Dad drove it from Orange County to Yellowstone but never got the hang of backing it up. Poor Dad, sharing a trailer with three girls and my mother, all of us with hay fever, sneezing almost continually, the trailer rocking and the Kleenex flying. Today my great nephew drives a three tractor trucks in Idaho. He hasn’t tried backing up three, but has done two. It boggles the brain just thinking about it. There must be an app for that.
From an open door, heard a car drive up with hip hop music blasting, and looked out to see a young fellow leap from his car and start dancing with joy, arms waving over his head. Standing on the front porch, I started dancing too. He saw me and we both continued rocking out. Walking over, he introduced himself. Brandon had just gotten his drivers license and was celebrating. “I can go anywhere I want,” he announced. He reminded me of how important it is to celebrate what we often take for granted.
Am still ordering groceries on-line at Raleys and then driving over to have them loaded into my trunk. While at the Southhampton Center, I spied a French Poodle strutting his stuff, his fluffy ears and bushy tail dyed red, white, and blue like the French flag. I stopped and saluted and started to sing La Marseillaise but couldn’t remember the words, just the tune. Neither could he. Giving me what I imagined was the Gallic shrug, the poodle trotted on.
Back on my feet again, I headed down B street toward First. A car pulled up in the public lot with “Congratulations 2021 grads” painted on the windows. Out stepped a small group of grads with Mom carrying a beautiful cake. I congratulated them and wished them well. What will their world look like at their 25th high school reunion?
Stopped by Happy Life Pottery —the teaching studio and an art/gift boutique — to buy an apron and ran into artist Pam Dixon chatting with Nick who works there with owners David and Amy. Pam was on her way home to package up the ceramic piece that she donated for an Arts Benicia fundraiser. During lockdown I finally figured out why people wear aprons. My eating etiquette deteriorated, and I needed an apron to wear while eating, not cooking. Scarfing down meals in front of the television or computer while balancing a tray was not without spillage. I selected a sturdy, reversible bib number with a sombrero design all over it. It will be perfect when eating those pesky, stringy cheese enchiladas
Back on the patio while enjoying a stiff breeze, I saw smoke rising behind the hills near Crockett. The smoke cloud grew, and I smelled fire. With my heart in my throat, I went to the Cal Fire website and couldn’t find anything. Running outside, I stopped a woman walking her dog who immediately pulled out her phone and asked Siri to connect her with “fire near Crockett.” She read out loud — “Over one thousand people are being evacuated from Crockett”. I gasped. Then she said — “oh, wait. That was last year.” We laughed in relief. Then I called my friend Jerry at Epperson Gallery in Crockett and asked him where the fire was. He said Cal fire was doing controlled burning in Rodeo to prepare for actual fire season. Just about the time we were about to hang up after a nice chat, the skies cleared. May all of our fires be controlled burns.
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Sarah Beserra is an artist, writer, collector, Dharma practitioner, and former lobbyist.
Letters From Benicia 