After the Rain

I took this picture on the beach at Brooks Street Saturday afternoon, after the on-again, off-again rain finally stopped. The late-afternoon sun on the water was so beautiful.


Iridescent sand
clouds of gold and silver, air
so clean it shimmers

Diospyros

Last night I dreamed
that a friend who died nearly two years ago
walked into the dingy, brown-boothed restaurant
where I was sitting at a table
with some people I knew and some I didn’t.
He strolled up in a rumpled plaid shirt, smiling,
hands in his pockets (as he would)
as if to join us, as if he’d never been gone.
Then he said,
I think my parents might be at that table in the back;
I want to go say hello,
and kept walking.

I knew he was a ghost
but I was so happy and amazed
to see him in any form
that I dropped my sticky, faded menu
and jumped out of my seat.
I said to his wife, who had walked up with him,
When did he come back? And how?
And what did he say to you first?
Are we the only ones who can see him?
At a loss for words,
she just shrugged her shoulders, laughing
and I kept asking questions:
Should we follow him to make sure he doesn’t disappear again?
(as if we could)

I woke up with the word how on my tongue,
with a mixture of joy and confusion
and the dizzying sensation that past, present and future
had collided
and which, if I had to describe as a flavor, would be that of
a not-quite-ripe persimmon
I once tasted as a child:
sharp and sweet with a strange fuzzy bitterness

Friday Night Lights

I was waiting in the car while Schuyler was finishing a tennis lesson, and noticed that the twilight view from my parking spot was especially pretty.


Houses on the hill
light up one by one; a pale
moon shines through the clouds.

The Dentist

My dentist is probably the coolest dentist ever. Not only does Dr. Ken Garcia have an immaculate, modern office and a TV for every patient, but he is also a surfer and a musician, with long flowing hair and a Jimi Hendrix plaque on the wall by reception. And he's just the nicest guy. I’ve never had an unpleasant experience in his office, and was just in today having my teeth cleaned. All good.

But what is it about sitting in the dentist’s chair—even though I have been blessed with good teeth and the coolest dentist ever—that makes me squirm and sweat? It’s not even the scraping of the dental tools, I don’t think. There’s just something about lying on my back, with a ridiculous paper bib on and the dental hygenist’s hands in my mouth, that makes me feel completely helpless and triggers a primal sense of uneasiness. From the dark recesses of my brain comes the thought: this person could help me, but then again she could just as easily kill me.

If you turn out to
be an evil dentist, I
will probably bite.

Heart and Torch

Today I was looking through some photos and posters that I want to frame and hang, and was struck again by how much I love this picture of Rick Griffin, taken on Easter in 1971, at (I think) his place in San Francisco’s Bernal Heights district. (I have a poster-sized version of it, signed by the photographer, John Van Hamersveld. Definitely a keeper.) The tiny jpeg I posted above really doesn't do it justice; you can't see the eyes, but never mind. If you want to see it full-sized, come over to my house. Anyway, Griffin was an artist who became famous for his psychedelic posters in the 1960s. He designed some of the Grateful Dead’s most iconic posters and album covers, and became well known in the surfing subculture of southern California for his illustrations and comics for Surfer magazine.

In 1970, Griffin became a Christian—a self-professed “Jesus Freak”—and changed the focus of his art to religious themes. His most significant works from this period were the hundreds of paintings and drawings he produced for an illustrated version of the Gospel of John. He died in 1991, at the age of 47, from injuries he sustained in a motorcycle accident in Northern California.

A few years ago, the Laguna Art Museum held a retrospective exhibition of Griffin’s work called “Heart and Torch: Rick Griffin’s Transcendence.” David and I took the kids, who loved the colorful, comic-book style of much of the art. I personally don’t love all of Griffin’s work, but there is a current of hope and longing that runs through even the darker-themed pieces that is compelling.

I think I love this particular photograph of Griffin because he looks like a wild but gentle prophet, able to see things the rest of us might miss.


Your drawings of
breaking waves,
flying eyeballs,
swirling colors
and sacred hearts
tell me that even when you were here,
you weren’t really here.
You were never of this world
and left it a little early.
I look at your eyes
in a black and white photograph,
your hair and beard as wild as John the Baptist’s
might have been,
and wish you could tell me
what you’re seeing now.

Baby Emmett

David and I have a new nephew, Emmett Joel Vanderveen, and he is exceedingly cute. He was born Sunday, February 21, and is a peach-perfect, 7-pound 10-ounce bundle. His parents, Joel (David’s brother) and Katie are two of the sweetest, smartest people I know, and they produce the most darling children. As I always say, Prada just can’t make a bad shoe, and Joel and Katie just can’t make an un-adorable baby. Well, this might be the first time I’ve actually linked those two concepts together, but there you have it. Emmett joins his sisters Ava (3 years) and Leah (18 months).


Welcome to the world,
Little E! We’ve been waiting
for you. Wrapped in light
blue blankets and love, with your
mom and dad and two
sweet sisters close by, you’re off
to a good start. I
can’t wait to get to know you.
Let the adventure begin!

Del Mar Avenue

I dropped Willem off at soccer practice this afternoon at Moulton Meadows park and on the way back, driving on Del Mar Avenue, I got to take in one of my favorite views of Laguna. I love driving down Del Mar on a clear day because it gets so steep so quickly that, for a split second, it looks as if the road ahead drops directly off into the ocean. (I’m also partial to this particular avenue because my friends the Herricks’ house is on it; they’re living in Italy right now and I miss them.)

The road is so steep
and the ocean so blue I
may stop and dive in