The Lair of the Golden Bear

I recently learned of the passing of Ed and Betty Bates, longtime friends of my family. Ed was superintendent of the Milpitas Unified School District at pretty much the same time that my father was President of the Board of Education, which was most of my growing up years (or so it seemed to me).

Ed and Betty were married for 70 years(!). He left his body just 47 days after she did. What an amazing couple they were.

My Dad and Ed were also UC Berkeley alumni, along with Nobby Nakamura (the school architect), and several school principals. Lasting friendships were forged, which eventually expanded into taking family vacations together at the Lair of the Golden Bear — the UC Berkeley alumni-owned summer camp.

Thinking about all this brought back many memories of the Lair. We stayed in tent cabins and ate all our meals in the big dining hall. There were activities for every age group, so parents could actually relax. I especially remember the evening campfires; the non-chlorinated pool; the grown-ups gathering for happy hour every afternoon; learning how to make copper enamel jewelry — some of which I still have to this day!

I must have been around eleven or twelve years old when we first started going to the Lair. Of course, all the staff members were Cal students. I was so impressed by them, and by how much fun they were having, that I made the decision to attend UC Berkeley myself, just so I could be staff at the Lair (I also planned to integrate the UC Berkeley marching band, which at that time had no blacks and no women)!

Of course, by the time I graduated from high school — poised to pursue a career in music — I understood that spending summers at the Lair and joining the marching band weren’t really the best criteria for determining where to go to college. But the wonderful memories remain.

Playing in the sprinklers

This brought back memories of being a kid…when a heat wave meant you got to play in the sprinklers! Seems to be an equally fun activity if you’re a woodpecker. 😄

Farewell to Louis’ Restaurant

Oh, how I loved this view!

I haven’t been there in forever, but it still comes as a shock to read that Louis’ Restaurant is closing as the result of the pandemic.

During the many years I lived in San Francisco, the whole area of the Sutro Bath Ruins, Sutro Park, and Land’s End was my main “happy place.” I would spend hours walking on Ocean Beach or clambering over the ruins or sitting gazing out at the ocean, then head to the Cliff House or Louis’ or the Seal Rock Inn for breakfast.

Other times I would walk through Golden Gate Park or along the Great Highway to get there. I have so many precious memories of my time in San Francisco, although I can’t even begin to imagine living there at this point in time. Which is just as well, since the San Francisco of my memories most likely doesn’t even exist anymore.

Look what I found!

I was looking for something else entirely, but found this treasure instead. I believe this was a Sunday service at Ananda Assisi shortly before Swami Kriyananda moved to India in November 2003; Ramesha and I had been together less than a month!

And aren’t I wearing the loveliest shawl? I adored that shawl and the way it matched virtually everything in my wardrobe. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of thinking it could be washed in cold water and was heartbroken when it shrank to less than a quarter of its size.😢

Ah, memories!

Family and memories

​We celebrated my Dad’s 85th birthday today at a park in Sunnyvale. All five of his children were there, plus a couple of spouses, several grandchildren and one great-grandchild. 

It was a lovely afternoon…and it brought up things to think about. 

For example, the whole crazy thing about time. For something that’s an illusion, it sure looks and feels very real. And because I’m fully caught up in the dream reality that time is a part of, I have to make my peace with the “reality” that sooner or later every single person I love (and even the ones I don’t) are going to go away. Including my Dad. 

With time comes change. My brother has a neurological disease that–with time–is taking away more and more of his functionality, independence, and future. 

I grew up in the Bay Area, but as I drive around there are so many changes–wrought by time–that even when I recall a memory there’s very little sense of connection with the environment that triggered it. 

I think this is why we “can’t go home again.” Maybe we can locate the physical place or rejoin the people (the “house” or its equivalent), but the sense of “home”, of “belonging” has vanished. Sigh.