Driving back from Santa Barbara Monday after six hours on the road, I remembered that my cupboards were bare. Bread. I needed bread. Hightailed it to Farm and Flour for baguettes and was informed that they no longer have bread on Mondays and Tuesdays. What??? And One House is closed on Mondays and Tuesdays. Quel tragedie!!! First Street is now a baguette wasteland two days of the week. Did find one last heel of bread in my fridge and spread some moldy brie on it. Life can be harsh ………
Four of my college roommates were in town on a hot day recently, and I suggested we find some shade in the garden between the State Capitol and the Fischer-Hanlon house. A State Park ranger came out and asked if we wanted a tour. Julio, said ranger, had been on the job less than two months but knew everything there was to know about the Fischers and the house. It has been restored to its heyday in the Victorian era and felt like the family was still in residence. A lovely sun porch, an up-to-the minute 19th century kitchen, and formal parlor were filled with period furniture, the bedrooms showcasing the personal effects of the Fischer girls — dresses, jewelry, and handbags. The home was originally located on First Street but was moved by Fischer when he bought the big lot on West G. Hard to imagine.
We walked over to the State Capitol and were greeted by Reece, another ranger who could be on the stage – no, not the one leaving at noon. Dramatic in his presentation, he explained that there were two kind of hats on the desks of the Senators — taller top hats for the wealthier gentleman and flat top hats for the gamblers. Upstairs in the Assembly it was mostly gamblers. Was amazed to see a photo of the Carquinez Strait at the start of the Gold Rush. Wooden ships were abandoned just off of of First Street as seamen took to the hills to strike it rich. It was said that you could walk across the Strait from Benicia to the other side by stepping on the boats and never touching water. The wood from the abandoned boats was used to build the State Capitol.
Chatting with Pat and Jane at Adobe about Gallery 621’s difficulty in finding a new home, was told to talk to a Joe Lopez who owns a number of properties. I asked what he looked like, and Pat said, “A guy wearing a tee shirt and shorts. That really narrowed it down. “What color hair?” “He’s always wearing a hat.” Feeling like the sheriff in a Western inquiring about a stranger in town, I ducked into Union Hotel Restaurant and asked Gabby Ovieto, the proprietor, if he knew a guy by the name of Joe Lopez. “Yes.” “What does he look like,” I asked as Gabby balanced two trays while negotiating the front steps. “Really tall and thin.” Flashing back to old Westerns, saw myself leaning on the railing by my horse, hat pulled low over my forehead, a cheroot in my mouth, imagining a tall, thin man looking like Clint Eastwood ambling toward me.
Later, sitting on my front patio a distinguished gentleman dressed all in white appeared seemingly from nowhere and introduced himself. He reminded me of a character out of “A Passage to India.” Accompanying him was a blond woman wearing a hat and the latest acrylic sunglasses. Rama, also the name of a Hindu deity, was interested in moving to Benicia from Danville and wanted to know how I liked living here. His friend, Debbie Weiss, is a writer and wrote a book on widowhood. Her blog is the hungoverwidow.com. Check out her 2018 New York Times piece for the Modern Love column – “First Try the Pastrami, Then the Polyamory” which is both hilarious and tender. Prior to reading it, I thought that polyamory must be a new textile, used for body armor or some such. It isn’t. Sometimes you don’t even need to leave your porch to meet interesting people.
Drove over to the Tannery to pick up the antique mirror I bought a few weeks earlier at Fabulous Finds but couldn’t lift because of its weight. Walked out to the sidewalk looking for some strong boys or a few good men and met Jeanne Gefter Matthys and Gabriella Fuchs who were finishing up their lunch at Char’s. Gabby had just finished a class at Once Upon A Canvas. With no male candidates in sight, Jeanne said that she was strong and could probably lift it by herself. Having my doubts, as I couldn’t even budge it, I marched them back to the shop. Jeannie picked it up and said “it’s not heavy” and proceeded to carry it all the way to my car and place it gingerly in the trunk. Thank you, Jeanne! Turns out the day before she helped an old school friend move to Glen Cove just above where I used to live. The next day on my way up First, I ran into them again, same table.
Benicia is that kind of town.
Sarah Beserra is an artist, writer, collector, Dharma practitioner, and former lobbyist.
Letters From Benicia 