Am sitting on my living room couch with the front door open as I write this. Can hear Pablo Cruz sing “Love Will Find a Way.”. They are live down the street at The Waterfront Music Festival which has been going strong for two days. Every parking space between here and Military is taken. People are pulling blankets, low chairs, and water coolers from their trucks and SUVs and making a day of it on Marina Green. It was 1978 when that song hit the charts.
Music often brings back memories and emotions but nothing was coming up, so fired up my laptop to see what was happening in 1978. There were parallels to current times. George Moscone and Harvey Milk were assassinated. Jim Jones made his 900 disciples drink the Kool-Aid. Roman Polanski fled to Europe on an underage minor charge. Jimmy Carter was two years into his first and only term as President and brokered a Middle East peace peace deal — the Camp David Accords. Two years later was the Reagan Revolution of tax cuts for corporations, shrinking government, and trickle down economics which, if it ever did trickle down, appears to be dried up for good now.
Summer in Benicia some 47 years later has been lovely if you turn off the media, with mostly cool weather. Have spent much of it renewing old friendships. It took a phone call a few days ago from a bestie who I’ver know for 35 years to remind me of our good fortune here in Benicia. She lives and works in LA. Was telling her about my morning — slept in late, read the paper, and walked to Benicia Fitness for a workout.
“I’ve had a very different kind of morning,” she said. She serves on the LA Commission on the Status of Women and when she arrived for their monthly meeting downtown at the Civil Rights Division, she couldn’t get near the building which was surrounded by police cars. Somebody had been throwing bricks off of the roof at pedestrians below. Downtown was a mess, cordoned off streets and yellow tape everywhere. First the fires, then the roundups, and now this.
Breathed a sigh of relief that she was okay and felt gratitude that I live here. Our safety concerns seem like peanuts in comparison. When my sister Janie and Tom were visiting recently, they reminded me that I needed to clean my clothes dryer ducts every so often. Something I had failed to do — ever. Evidently, dryer blazes are the number one cause of all home fires. Have the bad habit of leaving Kleenex in a pocket of a blouse and end up with a blizzard of lint, a giant ball of fuzz, and paper streamers clinging to my fleece like white on rice. My ducts must be stuffed like sausages.
Went on-line and called a few duct cleaning outfits. The first one sounded a little fly-by-night. The woman said it would cost $159 to come out and give an estimate. Then she put me on hold and came back and said they’d reduce it to $75. After I’d hung up, she phoned me and said they’d give me an estimate for free. This didn’t instill confidence.
So I called a nationally known company who has a track record. Had the most delightful conversation with an folksy fellow who I visualized as looking like Barney Fife on The Andy Griffith Show. He was so earnest, patient, and thorough in explaining the ins and outs of a duct cleanse.
What is that wind sound?” I asked. “Sounds like you’re outside.” “No it’s a fan to keep me cool,” he said. My curiosity was piqued. He clearly wasn’t off-shore.
“Where are you located? “Out of state,” he answered. “Where out of state? I won’t tell anybody,” I said. “Minnesota,” he said. “It’s really hot and humid here. They call it corn humidity where the corn releases water into the air. I’m from Iowa and I just read about it a couple of weeks ago in the paper. You feel all sticky,” he said. “Do you smell like corn?” I asked. “No, not that I’ve noticed.” Another reason why Benicia is great — no corn sweat.
Had lunch with Julie, an old college roommate, a couple of weeks ago. She was coming out of Cafe at the Inn carrying a flyer. “I went to Lowell High School in San Francisco with this guy,” she exclaimed. “And he’s going to appear here next week!” Wow! That was close to 60 or more years ago. “What a small world. I had already planned on going,” I said. “Say “hi” to him for me,” she said. She was referring to jazz musician Bryan Girard who has performed in numerous clubs and festivals as well as stints in Europe, Canada, Mexico and Japan.
Years ago, I would go down to the old Shoreline Restaurant in the Tannery Building where Bryan played for five years. It was a funky venue and often cold and breezy on the patio. But the music attracted a loyal crowd. Remember meeting his wife Rosie, whom he also met in high school. Judi Sullivan and Stan and their friends, Annie and Dan, were regulars back then. The building was sold and became Bella Siena, so the Bryan Girard Trio moved to the First St. Cafe and performed there for 12 years until the pandemic hit.
History repeated itself last weekend on Cafe at the Inn’s patio. Bryan and his group had a two-Sunday gig. Standing in for his usual crew of Greg Sankovich on keyboard and Lorn Leber on guitar were Tom Campbell on keyboard and Dave Bell on guitar. It was a mellow afternoon as I sipped an oat milk latte and inhaled a late breakfast. Judi and Stan, Annie and Dan strolled in a bit later, just like old times.
Cecilia Long, international performing blues and jazz vocalist, sat in with the band singing old favorites like “Girl From Ipanema” in her smokey, soulful voice. cecilialong.net
“What’s next?” I asked. “We’re very excited about the prospects for regularly-scheduled jazz at The Inn,” he said. “The last two Sundays have been very successful, but at this moment no firm plans have been made.” bryangirardjazz.com It’s a great hang as they say in the biz. Let Tracee at the Inn know that you want to see Bryan’s Trio come back on a regular basis.
Enjoy your summer!
Letters From Benicia 