Walking by the Gazebo in City Park, I saw one tiny toddler’s sandal artfully placed on the retaining wall. Where was its mate? My mind considered the possible scenarios of how it got there, visualizing a baby with one left shoe — a not so subtle reminder that summer has ended.
As a result of Covid, indecision, and procrastination, I really need a haircut and color after almost two years. To wash away the gray or not, that is the question. After spending an inordinate amount of time on-line, going to beauty shop websites and Yelp, I learned a lot but am not any closer to the new me. Meanwhile, young girls are going gray on purpose. On-line questions before securing an appointment were too difficult to answer. If this was a test I would have gotten an F. Did I want a high lites, low lites or baby lites? Do I need “bayalage” — color with a brush instead of foil, what about “ombre” — not a bad dude —but a blending of one color hue into another. Should I consider a blowout or a conditioning treatment? How about a Brazilian blowout — am afraid to ask. How about a scalp treatment (am I dry or oily) or roots only and a color gloss. Or a base bump or a blow-dry with with flat iron or brush? Several on-line shops say they will approve you once you figure out what you want. Would I be approved? What would constitute disapproval —too many unsightly split ends, ring around the collar? One website said they do extensions for “thinking” hair. So that’s why my chattering mind won’t settle down in meditation. Oh, that there could be a Grecian Formula for women. Will I ever be able to say: “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful!”
This was a job for boots-on-the-ground. Walking both sides of First Street, I read the names of possible candidates into my phone: Dave’s Barber shop and shaving salon, don’t need a shave, Ahn’s Salon, Bombshell Hair and Ink, PS Hair studio, PURE, Buddhahful Salon; NHS Salon on the corner of “First and “H”. Then First Impressions and Sara Leahy’s Shop at 602 First Street, and Luxe Hair and Color. It’s crunch time. In the meantime, will keep a hat by the front door.
A creative new music venue has appeared at the Thursday Farmers Market. A rather dashing fellow with dark hair and beard sits in his sporty “Skye” convertible, balanced on top of the driver’s seat crooning love songs accompanied by his car’s CD player. Did a double take the first time I saw him. This could have been a scene in Mama Mia — Pierce Brosnan — celebrating romance and beauty as his voice wafts across the produce.
Arata Gallery will closed in November according to John, husband of representational painter Geraldine Arata. They will move Colorado to live near their four grandchildren. Having had a successful gallery in North Beach, they found that Benicia wasn’t a good fit for Arata’s work which has been mostly represented in larger cities. From the day it opened, the Gallery has been an active participants in Benicia’s art and community initiatives. Happy trails …
Mike Jones, the security guard at First Nor Cal Credit, always has a good story. Last time I stopped to chat he told me how he met his wife — on the freeway!! Showing off in his snazzy new convertible on a Southern California freeway, traffic had come to a halt. In the car next to him was a beautiful woman. They locked eyes and he pointed to his ring finger, pantomiming a question. She shook her head and, as it was before cell phones, made like he was talking on the phone. This time she nodded. In no time flat he had maneuvered his ride to the shoulder, guiding her to follow, which she did. The rest is her story.
Relaxing under an umbrella on the patio, noticed my upstairs neighbors Dave and BJ Wilson heading toward First Street for dinner. “Where are you going to eat?” I asked. “Think we’ll try Elviritas Mexican food.” “Is that one of your favorites?” “Yes, because many years ago it was my great grandfather and grandfather’s department store — Wilson and Wilson. Opened up in 1916. You could buy fedoras and bowlers, silk stockings, leather shoes, suits and shirts.” “They also had Levis which were considered ‘working’ clothes,” BJ added. Dave lived in Martinez with his grandmother and loved taking the ferry from there to Benicia to visit the rest of the family. Pointing to the Marina, Dave said, “It docked right here!” His grandmother had been born down the street in what is now Sailor Jack’s —a hotel at the time. A second hotel named the Palace was next door. Can imagine that Levis were frowned on at the Palace.
Three outriggers silently glided into the Marina entrance as I headed inside. What a peaceful picture they painted silhouetted against the pink sky. Hut/ho, hut/ho. They had be members of the Benicia Outrigger Canoe Club. Later learned on-line that they promote the ancient Hawaiian art form of paddling and chanting. Guests are encouraged and pay nothing for the first paddle. Mahalo, BOCC!
###
Letters From Benicia 