I awoke on January 1, 2023 to a radiant, sparkling day — a brief respite from yesterday’s flooding and the atmospheric rivers to come. Made a quick note to call my insurance agent first thing Monday morning. The hills had turned a green velvet; some small pools of water remained on B Street for the ducks and geese to enjoy and everything looked new and shiny. Needing material for this column, I dressed quickly and headed to First Street expecting that football games and over-partying would render the town empty. The weeping willows on the Marina looked spent after having cried their eyes out with few leaves left to shed. Whoops of joy and then groans emanated from a nearby condo as football fans scarfed chicken wings. But no. Benicia is a town that won’t let you down.
The Street was jumping.” Arneson Archives next to Mare Island Brewing had their blinds up, and I peeked in. What fascinating stories lie within? At F Street, I was drawn to a young woman with a big smile on her face. She was fiddling with her phone and had an open book on her lap. I asked her if she had any special plans for the new year. “I’m listening to God for beautiful things to come,” she said. “I’m seeing that I don’t need to try to control the outcome of things anymore.” Cameron, a student at a four-year leadership college, is also a Mom, and a hairdresser who lives Vacaville. Her happiness was infectious.
A car parked in front of Farm and Flour entertained latte drinkers with sounds of jazz escaping from its open windows and sun roof. Further up, a new sign in the window of the former Camellia Tea Room announced the imminent opening of The Filling Station, a sustainable and locally sourced gifts and household items store. Crossed the street at St. Paul’s where I saw a couple happily ensconced at a picnic table near Pacifica Pizza. “Do you have any plans for 2023?” I asked. “We come over from Martinez often because there’s always something happening,” said Larry, who along with Jennifer were clearly enjoying the passing scene. Jennifer said they only recently discovered One House Bakery and are addicted to the pastries and everything they have. Then proving Larry’s theory about Benicia being a happening town, things started to pick up.
A fellow brushed by me sporting a huge Gila Monster (lizard?) perched on his shoulder. I shrieked and ran behind the table. “He’s not dangerous,” said his handler. “Yes he is if you die of fright,” I mumbled. The next minute we were approached by a colorful older fellow and his dog. “I’m the President of the Inspector Morse Canine Club. We have no meetings and no dues,” Russ said. “If you pet my dog you become a member of the club,” he said as Jennifer petted the dog. He handed her a pin — a cute photo of his dog’s face. “I can’t pet the dog because I’m allergic, but I admire him,” I said. Russ gave me a pin anyway. “If you’d petted him you would have been number 918 to do so,” he said as he headed next door to Zeppelin Comics. He was back shortly, handing me a jar of his homemade lemon curd meant for his friends at the comics shop, now closed for the holiday. I was thrilled with the little jar tied with brown string and sporting a homemade label. “You could market these,” I said. He proceeded to tell us that he cooks hearty breakfasts every Saturday morning for his wife and her three friends who are avid flea marketers. He never repeats a recipe — except once for Eggs Benedict. They usually have two bottles of champagne to wash it down.
Sauntering further down First saw a fellow on the lawn of the State Capitol unloading a wagon full of animals — three dogs —two shiatsus and a mix —and two leashed cats wearing wool sweaters. The huge gray cat, Dimitri, had the most gorgeous sea green eyes and a lustrous fur coat. Could pass for a royal Egyptian cat except for his simple navy wool sweater. The second feline, Harrison, was a ginger cat. Steve lives in Fairfield and brings them to Benicia weekly. He found Dimitri when he was three days old and near death. Both kitties know not to chase birds but squirrels are another matter. Both were hunkered down in the grass on the lookout.Rookies Sports Bar and Grill had its doors ajar — more whoops and hollers over the clinking of beer steins. By the time I got to Bella Siena and Sailor Jacks things really picked up — outside tables were packed, cars double parked, and people strolled the Promenade, relishing the views of the Strait. My kind of town.
Letters From Benicia 