“Brr er er er er, it’s cold. (Higher note) Brr er er er er, it’s cold. (Lower) Burr er er er er, (Lower yet ) Burr er er er er, (Lowest) Burr er er er er, it’s cold.” So go the lyrics of a song I used to play on the piano when I was in grade school. Hardly Rachmaninoff, but was able to master it after learning “Here we go up a row to a birthday party”and have been singing it today. Mt. Diablo is buried in clouds but the last time I looked it had snow more than half way down — our own Mt. Rainier. Must order some “Hot Hands” for my shoes.
On any given day I see some regulars on First Street. Saying “Hi” and chatting a bit makes my day. Saturday, was no exception. Despite the frigid temperatures, the Street is jumping. Large families crowd the sidewalks spilling out the doors at Double Rainbow further freezing their nubbins with a double scoop. Gaggles of young people walk with their heads bent over their phones looking for Pokemon clues.
Here comes the peripatetic sweetheart John Simpson, his knit cap pulled low. He admires my outfit, tells me that he loves me —“as a friend”— and asks for a hug. Putting down my books and container of chicken soup on a table outside One House Bakery, I give him a hug. He is off to Elisa’s Cottage to hang out with her new partner, Shawn, who used to own Gypsy Rose Boutique.
Friends abound. There’s Sally at Christina S who always has an enthusiastic greeting. Her flamboyance, style, and provocative eyewear inspire me to push the envelope a bit with my own attire. Lovely Nicole, owner of Pink Arrows Boutique, can make any outfit look good by trying it on for you — a tuck in here at the waist, a stylish fedora, and you’re good to go. Michael, the security guard at First Northern California Credit Union, always has a kind word to say and must have a million friends. Then there’s Elisa at Elisa’s Cottage who greets me as she irons a frock. Her on-going “two-for one sale” is the best deal in town for vintage costume jewelry and accessories. Mary at Bookshop Benicia always calls you by name, and is versed in literature and the arts — a Renaissance woman.
Nick can be seen sitting outside Happy Life Pottery between classes and sometimes after work with friends at a table in front of a local cafe. Then there’s Gino at Union Hotel Restaurant who, no matter the hour, is up to making you a pizza margarita. Patrick holds court in front of Adobe sharing the latest gossip and making me laugh while Jane runs the shop and turns on a classical station which is instantly relaxing.
I stand on tiptoes when passing HQ Gallery to see who is working. Even though Susan Street has retired from the Gallery she is often there and good for a lively chat as are gallery artists Barry Robinson and Sara Wong. Like to peek into the ever changing garden patio at Sweetness and Light to see what floral magic Wendy has woven. The mossy patio has become a favorite spot for alfresco parties and celebrations.
Plein Air Gallery is eye candy with the latest work of top regional outdoor painters adorning the walls of this small Victorian. Members like Catherine Fasciato, Mary Lou Correia, Michael Dadasovich, and Maria SantoStefano will regale you with stories of their painting adventures. My sister, plein air painter Susan Johnson, heard through the Gallery that it was peak mustard season at Viano Winery and Vineyards in Martinez. We drove over for a glimpse and gasped at the display of cadmium yellow blooms covering several hillsides as far as the eye could see. Reminded me a bit of the daffodil scene in Dr. Zhivago, minus Omar Sharif, unfortunately.
I check in at Fabulous Finds fairly often to see what treasures have been rescued from estate sales. Lorraine is so welcoming and eager to open any case, answer any question, or pack a mirror for pickup as long as you get there before 4 pm. Who have I missed? Hmmm. Didn’t see Wayland the Benicia Pirate today. Wait! Here comes Candelario peddling up D Street trying to keep warm. I am carrying a quart of Mexican chicken soup in one hand and a bag loaded with books in the other. When he leans in for a hug, I am unable to hug back so raise my arms above my head so that he can hug my waist. Not exactly reciprocal, but it’s the intent that counts. Back home at last, while unlocking my front door, I hear the whinnying of the Benicia Cowboy’s horse. The day is complete. I hurry inside before my soup gets cold.
Letters From Benicia 