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April 20th, 2000
A random quick visit to my childhood and current close friend, Susan Heldfond yielded a book sale to her cousin Lane Heldfond, who owns an antiquarian bookstore in Marin County, California. Lane received Living On The Earth as a birthday gift from her brother when she was sixteen and is still using it!
Happily ensconced now at a visit to Steve Gursky, the technical wizard who put all the moving, morphing fun stuff on my web site (at least for those of you whose browsers support Java Script). He has enjoyed a considerable career as a recording engineer to various legends of the Woodstock era, but, since computers have depleted the market for live studio recording, Steve has made computer consulting and web design his next line of work. I am ecstatic with what he has done on my web site, and pleased to be learning a new skill in updating the site myself.
Steve Gursky in television worship
Personally, I am thrilled with the results I got from working on my CD with an experienced and well-equipped recording engineer, Steve’s old buddy Rick Asher Keefer, who engineered Heart’s hit albums. The complete art piece that we got is as much a result of his creativity as it is of mine.
Rick Asher Keefer at Sea West Studio in Pahoa, Hawaii
My lively second cousins Brenda and Diane have been putting on these major family affairs for nearly thirty years, but, having founded my own one-person religion (see my and Ramon Sender’s book on creative religion, Being Of The Sun, Harper & Row, 1973), and having lived in Hawaii since 1974, I have not gathered with my blood relatives for Passover since my teens. I had no idea it would be so wonderful. Diane’s Spanish style cottage burgeoned with all things lovely—antiques, cut flowers, floral printed linens, platters of delicacies and desserts, and, most especially, a dozen beautiful and intelligent children, whose art and laughter graced the table. Diane and Brenda read aloud colorful introductions about each guest, including a family mazel tov for my book tour, and sang a Broadway tune with lyrics rewritten for the occasion, an act for which they are famous in our family. I met psychotherapist Marjorie Hansen Shaevitz, author of The Confident Worman, who referred me to her PR lady. I’ve got relatives in the record business, the movie business, TV, just what you would expect of a big Jewish family in LA. I received oodles of advice.
Brenda and Diane make dinner for 43.
Angelica and her dad sing a hit from the sixties.
April 18th, 2000
I awoke with a chuckle, and Chris noticed this from the breakfast table. The whole energy of the universe changed direction this morning. The rain stopped. The stock market rose dramatically after a Microsoft-induced plunge. Time to boogie. I bid my new family a fond farewell.
I took advantage of the opening in the force field and made my way north to Huntington Beach, where I have a standing invitation at the home of my childhood friend Geri Woolls. I unpacked my suitcases and reorganized them in her living room. Her brilliant teenage son Joseph builds computers but doesn’t like school. I’ve heard he is a terror, but he is always friendly to me. This time he has a new girlfriend, Sarah, and she played the guitar for me. I am honored. The kids are vegetarians.
Long term friendship adds a philosophical perspective. This, too, shall pass. We loved each other long before the current predicaments arrived in our lives, and we will love one another long after they fade from memory.
April 17th, 2000
The day after the fair it rained three inches. I took this as a sign of approval from the universe for the good deeds of the fair participants who had enjoyed gloriously sunny weather all day. I prudently avoided the highway, where, according to the local news, 75 traffic accidents per hour occured on April 17. Instead, I roosted at Glenn and Chris’ apartment and began to type up my journal, and it’s about damn time.
April 16th, 2000
The Earth Fair at Balboa Park in San Diego. Thousands attended. The local newspaper briefly mentioned it in the back pages and featured the Avocado Festival on the page one. The Earth Day organizers do not expect to be popular with the media, which as everyone knows, is owned by the corporate despoilers of the planet and their close cronies.
At the booth where I sold my art prints, CDs, t-shirts and posters, I met at least a dozen people who owned a copy of the original Living On The Earth. I am hoping we will all meet again on April 27 at In Harmony Herbs and Spices, when I will have the new books to sign.
The most dada moment was an organ concert in the middle of the fair. The Spreckels Organ Pavilion is three stories high, and full to the top with literally thousands of organ pipes. The entire building is a huge resonating cabinet. It has the same funereal air of the Palace of Fine Arts in San Francisco, also built during World War One in memoriam. There is an urn at the highest point of the facade. The organist amplified this effect by choosing his most macabre selections—Requiem in D, themes from Phantom of the Opera.
Below this immense singing headstone danced merrimakers in dreadlocks to lyrics of defiance intoned to back beats. The fair opened with a parade, featuring Clingons from Star Trek, Horned Warriors from the Society for Creative Anachronisms, a six foot frog on the back of a pick-up truck, and a gaggle of ecstatic Krishna devotees, complete with a cow-drawn surrey bearing their gods in effigy. Festival booths offered a bedazzlement of environmental horrors to be ameliorated with contributions, an assortment of relatively healthful victuals, and environmentally conscious consumer goods, such as mine. The place fairly reeled with music besides the giant organ, a reggae band, and a rock band—I counted at least three folk singing acts, and three radio stations broadcasting pop hits during my stroll, and, between the live bands, the sound tech cranked up some sort of techno rock.
There was a moment of respite at noon, when Robert Nanninnga, the ringmaster, introduced a series of speakers, including Earth Day Mom Carolyn Chase, the honcho of All This. The most passionate and interesting speaker turned out to be a gentleman from the Sierra Club, dressed in green for the occasion, offering visions of the wild mammals of San Diego County making their way to the sea through tunnels under the highway and creek corridors through the tony residential districts. It was good to pause for a moment and consider the proposed beneficiaries of all of this speaking and doing. Imagine being a coyote in San Diego County, or anyone else without a steady job or a trust fund.
I got up and said my little piece. Happy Thirtieth Anniversary. 1970 was a year of critical mass for the environmentalist ideals of the 60’s- the hundredth monkey effect kicked in and manifested as publications, organizations -The Mother Earth News, The Whole Earth Catalog, Living On The Earth, Earth Day. Now, in 2000, the environmental ideals of a century are coming into fruition. The green car. Whole cities with recycling programs. Environmentalism is a practical application of the spiritual ethic of compassion for all beings. It is accomplished through a rhythmic series of minute decisions. Hundreds of small decisions made on a daily basis equal a life that makes a difference. What we buy, how we dispose of waste, voting and for whom we vote, small contributions to big causes, teaching by example. Please buy my book. Thank you very much.
My wonderful friends Glenn and Chris worked with me from dawn to dusk, and the success of my booth is due in no small part to their efforts, as well as help from dancin’ John Noble of In Harmony Herbs and Spices in Ocean Beach, where I will be signing books on April 27 at 3 PM.
April 15th, 2000
I visited my brother and his wife in Irvine. Twenty years together, and more in love than ever, they are about to adopt a Chinese baby girl. They have already decorated her bedroom with ballerina teddy bears. They are both survivors of nightmares, making a fairy tale come true. I bask in their sweetness. They love the wedding song on my CD.
I float south on mighty 405 to La Jolla. The coast recalls Spain, the Mediterranean. Glenn and Chris, who I have met only by phone and e-mail until now, instantly become family. They have created a party in my honor–Chris’s sumptuous meal, a gathering with Jodi, Glenn’s sister, the owner of In Harmony Herbs and Spices, and her partner John. Merriment, ease, inspiration shared. Stories of people and places remembered in common. I sleep well, if briefly, that night in my comfortable inflatable bed, complete with purple flannel sheets and the purple down bag I bought from Heather and David on Maui in the 1970’s after they had hiked with it through the Himalayas.