“Feliz Navidad, Feliz Navidad, Feliz Navidad y Prospero Ano y felicidad.” The Mistletones, resembling giant elves in their green and red striped sweaters and wool caps, had Benicians of all ages rocking around the Christmas tree at the end of First Street Friday evening. Back for their annual gig in town, the ‘Tones were in fine form, singing Deck the Halls, Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, and other seasonal faves. My friend and I busted a few moves to keep warm as the base player jammed some Santana like solos. It was a little after 6 pm when Santa, who had just arrived from the North Pole, threw the switch and the big fir exploded into a dazzling array of blue, green, red, and yellow lights. “Oooooh,” chanted the crowd. The moon was waxing and Venus stood watch overhead as teenagers, seniors, families, children, babies, and dogs dressed as reindeer crowded around the bandstand to welcome the holiday season. The palm trees on the Promenade were wrapped in alternating green, red and white lights as vendors hawked the most dazzling balloons – huge transparent spheres with tiny lights that added a magical quality to the festivities. Children dueled with florescent swords and toddlers and little ones in tiny down jackets edged their way through the forest of bodies. Mayor Steve Young took to the stage looking a bit like Santa himself sporting a stocking cap and beard. “This is my favorite event of the year,” he volunteered and the crowd seemed to agree.
A half hour earlier my friend showed up at my door dressed like Nanook of the North sporting thermal underwear, an extra heavy sweater, long wool scarf and leopard coat, snow gloves, and a knit cap. I was reminded of Ralphie in “A Christmas Story” except that she seemed to be able to move her arms without falling over. I was dressed similarly but sans the long underwear. After the tree lighting, we wandered up First Street which was awash in revelers checking out the shops, enjoying cookies and holiday cheer. Susan Street served us hot apple cider at HQ Gallery and artist Barry Robinson, wearing an overly decorated Christmas sweater, gave me a hug. Struggling to find a compliment about the sweater, I said, “It looks warm” —something my father used to say about any new outfit my sisters and I wore. The Plein Air Gallery displayed a doll house filled with tiny artwork. Their tree was hung with fresh miniature paintings, and I selected one of a cute kitty by artist Maria SantoStefano whose own cat sat for the portrait. A snow machine in the courtyard between Double Rainbow Cafe and Sparkly Rags blew clouds of icy flakes into the street as children twirled, their arms spread wide to catch the flurries. The Benicia High School Band worked the Street stopping at each corner for a mini-concert accompanied by flag twirlers throwing lighted batons high above their heads — and catching them! A lone bagpiper blew a soulful tune in front of Angel Heart 4 You adding a bit of gravitas to the festivities.
While waiting for a to-go order at One House the day before, dashed upstairs to Gallery 621 for a peek at their Holiday Exhibit of small works — two rooms filled with paintings, prints, and sculpture from gallery artists and priced for gift giving. Wandered up to the corner of First and J where Toni Haughey, member of the Benicia Historic Commission, was posting a sign advertising Benicia Historical Museum’s annual Christmas tree sale. This year the lot is downtown at the old Benicia Fire Museum — 900 E. 2nd St. In addition to the usual Douglas and Noble Firs, they sell Nordmann firs which are great for those with allergies. Don’t worry if you break off a needle and can’t smell anything — you don’t have Covid. Nordmann’s have no scent and their needles don’t drop. Geez! Vacuuming up the needles is one of life’s pleasures, the “ping” they make so satisfying.
Heading down First I saw a fellow approaching with a black lab. The dog was moving slowly with his head bent toward the ground. “He looks sad,” I said. “Oh, no, he is a Buddha dog, and he is doing walking meditation.” The dog’s ears perked up as I praised him for his mindfulness practice. “Cosmo, bow to the lady,” said his owner. Cosmo stretched out his front legs as far as they would go, tucked his head between them and gave a deep bow — and then a sneeze. This particular bowing form with the sneeze was unfamiliar to me. “Is that his mantra?” I asked. “Oh, it’s the dust in the leaves on the ground. It gets him every time.” I bowed back in solidarity hoping to conjure up a sneeze, but it was not to be.
Sarah Beserra is an artist, collector, Dharma practitioner and former lobbyist.
Letters From Benicia 