Wasn’t able to spend much time on the Street these past two weeks due to catching a bug. This wasn’t the kind you gently catch in the meditation hall and carefully place outside on a plant, but rather the sneaky bug that causes chills, fever, and a big sweat.
Prior to my confinement, I observed several park rangers chopping up an ancient honey locust tree planted in the garden between the State Capitol and the Fischer Hanlon House. Evidently, the heritage tree gave up the ghost after relentless winds pummeled it incessantly. On its way down it fell on a prolific old grapefruit tree that was uprooted, as well. Hundreds of round yellow fruit rolled around on the ground like giant gum balls. The rangers were stuffing them into enormous plastic bags and gave me one as a gift. “I’m going to make me a nice bench out of one of these stumps,” the fellow hauling away the wood said. “How old was the tree?” I asked. “Won’t know until I can get further down and count the rings.” As the chopping, sorting, and hauling continued two fellows drove up to ask permission to dig under the roots when the job was finished. “We might find some gold or silver coins,” they said. “If we do, we’ll donate them to the Capitol Museum.”
Was so sorry to have missed the community celebration of life for our dear friend Judie Donaldson. According to those who attended, the service was perfectly conceived and carried out. Brilliant eulogies were given by Judie’s daughters Pam and Tracy and granddaughter Maddie Swanborn. Afterwards, they served Baskin Robbins ice cream – a favorite of Judies. A video of the service will be available on Caring Bridge in the coming days. Judies’ parting words —“ I think that death is a lesson to all of us. I hope that you can use my death as an opportunity to check in with yourself and make certain you are living your life just as lovingly, joyfully and fully as you can.” Thank you dear friend.
Five of us women friends have been meeting for dinner for the past eight years. We are now four with Judie gone. We met at Burmese restaurant Aung MayLika. It was that windy day with hurricane force winds and rain. We blew into the restaurant, through wooden doors that were banging back and forth and threatening to fly off of their hinges. Everything that we ordered was delicious. I got the fried jasmine rice and took enough home for two more meals. Soft jazz played as we ate, although was hard to hear with the wind rattling the windows.
Then the bug struck — nothing serious but uncomfortable. My mind drifted back high school biology class with Mr. Nordstrom who was big on having the kids dissect sentient beings — earthworms, frogs. When I saw the size of my earthworm which was presented to me on a paper towel, I almost lost my lunch. It was the size of a small snake. Nordie, as we called him behind his back, gave us an assignment to assemble a collection of 50 different bugs, mow them down in the Fullerton killing fields, and then mount them in a box with labels — order, family, genus, and species using scientific, Latinized names.
In anticipation of the need for bugs for those poor slobs who fell short on the bug count, me included,
an enterprising group of boys who called themselves the Rabbit Funters started a bug business selling a king’s ransom of insects. I bought one but realized that they weren’t the best quality as the wings and legs fell off — well past the expiration date evidently. I was able to score a decent ladybug on whose wings a Funter had added extra black dots with ink. They named it Chevrolayus Corvettus. Ah, those halcyon day of watching classmates running through the fields waving butterfly nets in the manner of Fellini.
Do no harm. Not so much. A few nights before the project was due, I had terminated a big beetle in a jar with formaldehyde and mounted him in the box by sticking a long pin through the poor creature’s carapace. The next morning when I opened the box, the beetle, seemingly unaware that he was supposed to be pined to the styrofoam, had sashayed over to the other side of the box. Thankfully, I’ve blanked out on what happened next. I ended up getting an A- and not sure what the minus was for. Would a nice Nordstrom box have made a difference? Learned years later that Rabbit Funter Jim Kemp, bug entrepreneur and my date for the Senior Prom, conceived and founded the crack Briefcase Drill Team that since its beginning in 1978 was the major act at Pasadena’s Doo Dah Parade. Those briefcases would have been the perfect size for a bug collection …
Letters From Benicia 