All posts by J. Stern

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Running for Kennedy

Photo by frank mckenna on Unsplash




It was 1968 and I was seven years old.  I was at my elementary school, we were in the last period of the day and we were having physical education class.  The day was brilliant, warm, sunny and we were headed towards summer. John F. Kennedy had left the schools a legacy to teach fitness to the American people. He had made physical education of the American masses his pet project back in the beginning of the sixties. His administration distributed a pamphlet to all the public schools with his personal encouragement and with these wise  words:  “The need for increased attention to physical fitness is clearly established. The government cannot compel us to act, but freedom demands it. A nation is merely the sum of all of it’s citizens, and it’s strength, energy and resourcefulness, can be no greater than theirs.”

Kennedy’s goals for the people of his country were to  obliterate poverty, establish true equal rights for all people regardless of race, creed or color and integrate art into the center of American culture. He established the Peace Corps and the Alliance for Progress to bring American philosophies of freedom and prosperity to undeveloped nations of the world.

On that day in 1968, Kennedy was no longer with us, but President Johnson had carried forth his legacy. That day’s class included prescribed exercises and events to develop the physical fitness of school children.  One of those events was a half mile race and there I was racing and I was way ahead. It felt great and I almost couldn’t believe it. My breathing was easy and I could feel the sun warming me.  The heat of the sun seemed to jive well with running that day.  I kept looking at my legs. They looked long to me and strong and the moved with a  natural rhythm that felt great, but my knee socks kept falling down.  I was compelled to stop each time they fell and pull them up. A lot of kids began to pass me, but all I could think of was pulling my socks up. I finally finished and was relieved that the race was over and the embarrassment of my falling knee socks was swiftly becoming the past.  Needless to say, I didn’t win the race. Later in life I realized I was a fast funner and probably talented.  It struck me as funny, that all I could think of at that time were my falling socks.  It was the perfect example of not being able to see the forest through the trees. Getting caught up in minutia, details, obscurations-getting distracted. Something that still happens today, but not as frequently.




The brief time that Kennedy was president was an exciting time.  I was just two when he was assassinated, but when his brother Robert decided to run for president in 1968, I was old enough to remember the time well. Even as a child, I could feel the excitement in the air.  We were on the verge of significant change.  My family had a black and white television and every evening our family would gather around to watch the news first and then a program. Usually a variety show with singing and dancing or sometimes a vintage movie. The Wizard of Oz or Gone With the Wind were televised once a year and were highlights of the year’s offerings. The World of Disney was a favorite too. Kennedy and his travels were well documented on the news and his plans for the future. With his assassination and then the end of his candidacy, the nation plunged into a pit of shock and grief. Everyone pulled their curtains and retreated to gather themselves. In the period that followed, we only watched the news for several weeks. But the elections were held and eventually Nixon was chosen to to lead the nation.

The nation went on, Americans stayed strong and I would remember forever the wonderful times of Kennedy and running for Kennedy, even with my knee socks falling down.

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Hello again, you dog

Photo by sarandy westfall on Unsplash

The pug ran towards me, flying through the air like a flying dragon. Her eyes wide with excitement and her little body wriggling in excitement. She looked amazing. She had just completed a three day stay at her favorite resort; the local vet. Her eyes were big and glossy, her fur shone. Her features were animated. I realized that the staff must have had quite a time with her and played with her often. When I made my payment to pick her up, the girl appeared a bit let down and said with a sigh, “Oh, you’re picking up the pug!”

I crouched to pet her and secure the leash to her collar. She wriggled in delight that it was time to go home. She dashed out the open door and sprinted to the bushes. The excitement had overwhelmed her and her bladder kicked in to relief mode. She finished her business and then off to the car. She was too short to get in, so I lifted her up. She was supposed to jump over to the passenger seat, but she set her round bottom right into the middle of my seat. She faced the steering wheel and panted, ready to go.

“No, you can’t sit there”, I instructed her. I tried to push her over, but she sprung to life and jumped down into the pedal area beneath the steering wheel. That definitely would not work and I picked her up again and placed her into the passenger seat. She spun around, sniffed and snorted and looked for any crumb she could find. I could see this was not going to be a peaceful ride home.

Finally, after a few calming strokes to her wrinkled brow and guarantees that she would be home soon; she settled into a rhythmic pant, pug breath perfuming the car cabin. I wistfully thought of the McDonalds on the corner and wondered if a small order of french fries would cut through the fog of pug steam in the car. She would be delighted to have a snack and the fresh fries would temporarily replace the smell of dog sinus. I pulled into the drive thru in search of a cure for smelly dog.

Photo by JC Gellidon on Unsplash

We soon had the fries. I had to divvy them out, so she didn’t consume them within seconds. I wanted the fries to last at least fifteen minutes; the time it took to drive home. I placed a fry in front of her nose and within half a second it disappeared. She licked her lips and panted for more. Except now her breath smelled like french fries, mission accomplished!

So we sped down the interstate and I managed to hand feed the pug french fries in a timed fashion until we reached home. We pulled up in front of the house and there were still at least half the fries left and I hadn’t gotten one. I opened the car door, anticipating she would jump out, but she sat and waited. Her eyes locked on the bag of french fries I had left on the car console, her nose hopefully sniffing the air for just one more.

 

 

Reluctantly she decided to get out of the car and jumped to the grass. Once on ground, she sped into the house and to the kitchen to her favorite spot; her dish. She never gave up that hope, that there might be more food-the meaning of a pug’s life.  When the food didn’t come, she proceeded to find me and follow me around.  I was the best show in town.  Everywhere I went in the house, she was there.  Her eyes lovingly fixed on my person and anything I was doing. She watch rapt with attention and followed my every move.  I wondered what she knew and if she had retained the how to of the many goings on of everyday life.  Did she know how to cook, do laundry, take a shower, do yard work, do the bills or organize household items? She had watched me do these things so many times, I wondered how much she remembered. She definitely knew the location of things in the house and she was prescient about my moods.  The minute my mood went up or down she rushed over to see what was up.

 

Pug parents know the attentiveness, the love, adoration, devotion and infallible companionship that pugs  give to their owners.  And like icing on the cake, they are playful and love to perform tricks to make you smile  and laugh.    Pugs can become a whirling dervish at the site of loved ones and treats.  Twirling and twirling with joy with the anticipation of going on an outing to the dog park or shopping.

It was wonderful to have her home again and she seemed to love it too.  It was hello again to this loving little pug.

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T-painting

The onsies clung to small white handled  bags and dangled from various locations throughout my home. They were on lantern hooks, the front door wreath and the bookcases in my small library.  A blue laundry line traversed the expanse of my kitchen and onesies dangled from blue clothes pins painted in fluorescent and bright colors of every hue. They waved like flags saluting the joy of parenthood and inviting spectators to the event of a new life soon to enter the world.  Messages and love notes from family and friends.  We created wishes with our own hands  for a joyful and happy babyhood.

 

 

We ended up with 50 painted onesies. They were painted by women aged from 4 years old to 79 years old. Each creation was unique. Some hilarious with clever sayings to entertain my daughter and her husband in the darkness of night and some with sweet messages conveying love and caring. Sayings  that would cut through the fatigue of new parenthood, while the new parents were immersed in an endless cycle of feedings and diaper changes for the next two years. Maybe more if they continued to expand their brood.

 

It was a big baby shower.  I wanted to gather everyone there that had been there for us over the years. And new friends too.  Some of them were my daughter’s new friends through marriage or her teaching position.  So here we were; laughing, painting, creating and hosting a party.   The women gathered in and there definitely wasn’t enough room for us all. White rental chairs lined each wall and some of my friends had to sit in the hall.  I tried to make it around to everyone for at least a small chat and was fairly successful. We reminisced and shared our favorite stories.

We had mini 7 layer bean dips with huge corn tortilla chips.  Frozen grapes dipped in vanilla meltaways and rolled in slivered almonds. There was a croissant bar with chocolate humus and honied butter along with cold-cuts and cheese. Baby blue punch in glass decanters with spigots tied with sparkling blue ribbons.  I had kept my head in Pinterest for months looking up recipes and baby shower concepts. They ate and told me they loved the food- they never knew I could cook like that. I had been planning, practicing and plotting for months. The preparation had been an event in itself and  one of my favorite parts of the party.

 

 

 

Games were played, gifts opened.  The time flew and before I knew it, we were picking up chairs and taking down decorations. Sweeping up glitter and pulling brightly colored tissue paper out from underneath the couches where we had stuffed the paper to make room .  The onesies floated back and forth in the cool December breeze.  California sunshine poured down through a cloudless and brilliant blue sky drying the new baby couture.  Smiling faces and kind words floated around me.  After the guests were gone, we had tea. As we sipped, we reviewed the day, the highlights, the catastrophes, the sighting of new and old friends, the joy and the fun.

 

Baby Shower Onesies Activity:

Needed: Dreft(to wash the Onesies, Onesies(any brand, lots of sizes), small paper bags(to be used as hangers), twine, clothespins, paint, brushes, disposable wipes or old clothes to clean up messy hands and floors, aprons(optional), disposable vinyl gloves(optional).

1.) Wash the onesies prior to painting in a baby friendly detergent so the material will shrink a bit and assume a natural shape.  This ensures that when the new Mom washes them, the entertainment will go on, because the painted sayings won’t shrink or get distorted.

2.) Utilize fabric paint.  Fabric paint is the only paint that will be sufficient if you want your works of art to last and the color to hold.  The paint is non-toxic to baby and is easy to work with for novice artists.

3.) Buy bright and fun colors.  No explanation needed for this one.

4.) Buy a multitude of inexpensive disposable brushes made of various materials; such as sponge to create unique prints.

5.) Twine and clothespins. Tie the twine and secure between two nails. Do this  in an area  where you can easily wipe up spills and you don’t mind if it gets sprinkled with paint.

6.) Hang a line with samples over the activity area, so guests can get inspired.

6.) Laugh, make jokes, get creative and have fun!

 

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Tropical California

I looked towards the small mounds that were California coastal mountains. The mounds were covered with brush and small trees. Heading south towards Mexico, the occasional spring would rise into the low crevices of a  canyon and create a lush almost tropical scene.  A pool of clear, fresh water nestled between the rocky faces and numerous varieties of green  plant life sprouted. Palm trees soared above; their thick fronds heavily festooned with clusters of coconut pods. This land  had been traversed for centuries by all kinds of animal and human life. It was a  luxurious and comfortable home under the sun with morning mists that crept over the mountains each morning from sea. Each day dawned clouded in sea mist  that dissipated as the sun rose and cast it’s glorious bright light over the canyons.

This region of California was the edge of the high desert. The high desert rose from the edges of the lowlands into a drier climate and endless blue skies. It was mostly scrubby and full of brush;  but the canyons were small oases of  lush vegetation and pools of water. Some of these bastions of hydration had been developed into famous hot springs where people from all over the world gather. They came, as they say;  to  take the water for rejuvenation and relaxation.




These mountains were full of history and mystery. Just above the city of Corona were old roads that wound around the hillsides and created passages into Orange County and the neighboring beaches.  The roads dated back to the pioneer days. Cabins of the first homesteaders and abandoned  mines  still existed and waited to be explored. Vintage tools could still be found buried in the dirt roads. The old roads were a local hiking favorite. There were historic homesteads and oddities; such as a wall made of over ninety antique cars to hold back flash floods. There was a hill where an  nineteenth century victorian had stood and was now rumored to be haunted. It was a  favorite Halloween pastime to head up there and try to spot the spooks and  make contact with the netherworlds. Each town along the interstate heading south had it’s story and it’s local folklore.

Most of all, there was beauty. A wild, lush, cacophony of plants, birds and animals that thrived along side civilization. The contrast of dryness and water, sometimes only inches away from each other created unique and beautiful natural environments. Everything from succulents to pine trees grew untamed and created a harmony of natural  life that could only be found in this part of the world. Cougars ranged the mountains with bears. Bluebirds flew in the vast skies with seagulls that were vacationing at inland lakes.

I decided one day to take my dogs on an outing to the local dog park next to the Corona Airport. It was situated in a park with baseball diamonds and a playground. It was the end of the day and the sun was setting. Beyond the airfield, the edge of the Prado basin rose it’s lush, green head of thick vegetation. Just behind the greenery, the dry hills of Chino created a boundary between the inland valleys and Los Angeles county. The sunset was spectacular in hues of red, orange, purple and blue. There was a small bench just at the edge of the park and perfect for viewing the show.

 




Dogs were running about enjoying the last minutes of light and the cooling breeze as darkness descended and cooled the earth. Another dog lover joined me and we had a chat about her pug as we watched the glorious sunset. As the sun descended behind the green skyline, casting it’s rays upward one last time into the purple blanket of night; the silhouettes of palmtrees took the stage. One last vision of tropical nights in Southern California.

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Straw Flower Family

The straw flowers were standing lovely in three small tin pots. They reminded me of a multigenerational family clustered together and at different stages of their life. Small blossoms with closed velvet buds slept and awaited their moment to arise and take the stage. Once their bright yellow petals were sprung, they would be stiff and as dry as parchment paper. Perfect for fairies to write love notes upon. The enfant buds had a neighbor that had already fully opened. This blossom, like a dandy, displaying his new clothes and revealed his luxurious velvet orange button at his center. Across the way and glorious; a neighboring blossom lay it’s face fully open to the public. The center button was fully opened and it’s symmetrical seeds lay like a thousand tiny soldiers standing in formation creating the circle of life. Next to this beautiful blossom and nestled between the various buds was the grand parent to them all. It was an old blossom that was fully opened. The straw petals fallen aside and soft feathering seeds cascaded out and over it’s sides. These small aeronauts were ready and waiting to be transported by the wind to a new land.

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My mom planted straw flowers in her garden when I was a child. I didn’t remember them until I picked some up at a local specialty store to decorate the house for a party. I loved how bright and cheery they were. They exuded the ambience of summer, beaches and warm days. As I examined them, the thought of Dragon Snaps and violets floated into my consciousness and a picture of my mom and I planting flowers. That was the sixties. Everything was full of sunshine and promise and my mom drove a van with huge psychedelic flowers on it. Flowers, peace and love were a part of everyday life. This was obviously a flower that was meant to bring joy.

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It’s official name is Xerochrysum Bracteatum. We know it as the golden everlasting or strawflower. It’s a flowering plant in the family Asteraceae and it’s native to Australia. It was first described by Étienne Pierre Ventenat in 1803. Étienne Pierre Ventenat was a French botanist born in Limoges, France. He was the brother of the famed naturalist Louis Ventenat. He devoted his life to the study and the documentation of the plants he found in the greenhouses and the gardens of Europe. In 1850, the straw flower was developed in Germany and new colors were propagated. So now we have not only yellow; but bronze, purple and red. It was initially known as Helichrysum bracteatum back then and this continued for several years. In 1990 it was moved to the genus Xerochrysum and now it’s part of the daisy family. The strawflower is found around the world and grows in many different habitats. Butterflies, bees, grasshoppers, beetles and moths rely on this hardy blossom for sustenance. Crafters use them for potpourri and making wreaths.

Strawflowers are easy to grow. They are heat tolerant and survive well in poor soil. If you decide to grow them, the most important thing to remember is-water them lightly. I’ve got mine outside now and they seem to be thriving in full sun and with just a watering or two a week. On cloudy days, they are a reminder of sunshine and and hold the promise of summer and warmth in the days ahead.

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Falling Into Fall Love

Photo by Roman Kraft on Unsplash

Fall is a time to love. It’s coming quick. We are in the last summer days of August. We had some heat and we had some unusually cool days too. What we did not have was rain. But here comes fall anyway. Falling leaves, new colors in the naturescape, brisk air and excitement of the holidays on the way. The stores become bright and fun with an array of merchandise that’s beautiful and jolly.

Fall is a time to get warm and love finding ways to do it. Building a fire, finding the perfect cozy blanket and drinking warm, comforting drinks. Fall is for cooking-serious cooking. Baking and stewing and creating delicious new foods that are hearty and full of spices. Foods that are sweet and warming that bring joy to the belly and the brain. Foods that when you take a bite, you become alive with warmth and joyous memories. It’s almost ridiculous what food like this can do to you.

It’s a time to be with friends and love ones if you have them and love life with the very core of your being. The season is about celebration and everyday is perfect for a new reason to do something fun or meaningful with anyone you can get to come along. It’s a time of year that’s inspiring and awesome.




Every year of my life has been punctuated by the brilliance of fall and all the wonderful events that take place this time of year. Even as a small child, memories were created that were embellished with sparkles and glowing lights that emphasized the joy and warmth of the season. It started with the excitement of going back to school. The anticipation of meeting a new teacher and seeing if everyone was still in your class. Halloween rose over September like a big hot air balloon filled with spooky treats and stories and the fun of creating a new costume, different than last year and of course, always better. The anticipation of hiking city sidewalks in the dark with crowds of parents and kids dressed up and asking for candy. Going from door to door and your neighbor excited to see you and wanting to know who you were.

Halloween evening passes at a brisk pace. First the preparation and then the rush home from work before it gets dark to get the kids ready. Then we are out the door and into the first really cold night of the season. We walk, we smile and call greetings to new and old friends. Up and down pathways we go and then our legs are tired and it’s time to head home. After counting the candy, we pass out and fall into a deep sleep.

The next morning we wake up to a new holiday rising. The promise of good food and family love and friendship. Thoughts of huge, juicy turkeys with steamy apple and nut dressing oozing into the baking pan. Golden apple pies shimmering with a dusting of sugar and cinnamon. The promise of Christmas, further away, but a shining light that will guide us into winter.

The leaves are golden and glorious and falling; leaving branches bare in preparation for winter. Animals scurry to collect the last portion of their reserves for the coldest days of the year. They prepare their nests for nestling and staying warm during a long winter’s sleep.

Fall is here. For one more time, one more year, we prepare, we enjoy and fall in love with life all over again.




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Yoga Sweet Yoga

Photo by Sanju M Gurung on Unsplash

I went to Yoga today and had my first hot yoga class. It wasn’t officially hot yoga, but there were 50 people packed into one small studio, our mats just inches apart and everyone breathing deeply. The air filled with CO2 and heat. The sweat began to pop through my skin and run in rivulets down my head chest and back. I was sweating! It had been awhile. Even though I was working out and sometimes quite hard, I just didn’t sweat anymore like I used to. It felt good and cleansing. I dearly wanted more room around my mat, but I acquiesced to the group activity and eased into the positions as the instructor called out poses and counted; urging us on with a mix of eastern philosophy and showtunes.

As I held poses, my legs and hips ached from a week working and sitting and driving. Five days of intense activity and this probably should have been a day of rest, but I was hungering for endorphins and to loosen my joints. After about 20 minutes, my muscles relaxed and gave in and my movements began to flow. My breathing kicked in and I was able to breath away the pain and focus on strengthening of key muscles. It was the magic of Yoga. Part Eastern philosophy, part new age exercise craze. A discipline that had been around centuries, but had just recently really become the hot new exercise of choice for newbie Americans. We Americans we love our hardcore sports. Football, marathons, baseball and a whole host of athletics disciplines that were our favorite sports and required intense concentration and effort. In contrast, Yoga was more about the flow of energy and through continuous practice, the body adapted and strengthened. It’s not something that can forced and if you try to force it you don’t really become a true Yogi.




Yoga originated in ancient India and there is quite an array of disciplines. Some of these disciplines are spiritual and some more based in developing muscles and postures for maximum performance. The wonderful thing about Yoga, is that it’s centering, relaxing and rejuvenating. If you want, you can chant or if you don’t want-then don’t. It doesn’t matter. It’s just about poses and really that’s enough. The simplicity and the complexity of Yoga are beautiful things. Like some many of the wonderful things in life. The best part is the effect on your spine. The spine being the core of human movement and stability. The positions of Yoga stretch the supporting muscles and ligaments and open up compressed spaces that need some fresh blood and oxygen. The fresh fluids and O2 cleanse and wash away exhausted cells and used up nutrients. They flow into this neglected and deep center of the human body refreshing these hard to reach spaces. Like the ocean sending in new waves one after the other, circulating over the earth’s surface and refreshing the land.

Of course there are people that have known about Yoga for a long time. I grew up in a community of hippies and communes. At the public school, my fifth grade teacher would darken the room, push the desks to the wall and lead us through simple yoga poses. This was over forty years ago. It’s wonderful to see the practice reaching all communities and people of the world now. Maybe that’s another wonderful thing about the internet. We can learn about things that might have frightened us in the safe environment of our home, where no ones looking and find out some of this stuff really is ok. It’s not magic, it’s just tried and true practice of exercises over the centuries that work for the human body and make us feel better.It’s a practice that helps humans overcome grief, anxiety and confusion in a very direct and simple way.

Here are some poses that do exactly that. Downward Dog. You look like a dog stretching with your head down. This is great for relieving back pain.  This is great for relieving back pain. The stretch of the position aligns your vertebrae, opens up disc spaces and stretches the supporting muscles and ligaments to give them somewhat of a break from the monotony of the hard work of holding up your spine all day long. Blood rushes to the brain and into your central nervous center invigorating your mentation and coordination.




Another pose, and a big favorite is Savasana. This is literally the pose for everyone and if you can’t do any other pose, you will probably be able to do this one. You lay on your back and completely give in and relax. That’s all. Just lay down and do nothing, except of course breathe. This connects you to your life giving breath, which will ultimately give you peace with your body and life. The goal is to think of nothing during Savasana, but your breathing. I’ve had several Yoga instructors teach that this is the most important pose of Yoga and it should always be for full five minutes at the end of class, no matter what. Here you touch base with what you’ve accomplished for the preceding hour and it’s time to relax and absorb the benefits.

These are just a few poses and benefits of Yoga and some of the reasons why I love it. It’s just like life. When you are in a Yoga class, you never really know what’s coming next, but you learn to relax and breathe through it. It’s a great lesson to learn for enjoying life too. Because you never know what excitement is around the bend; so remember, just breathe and you to will move right through it too.

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He Deserves One Too

Photo by Mihai Stefan on Unsplash

I was standing in a really long line at a famous lingerie store and I noticed I was holding my breath. I was realized I was feeling really uptight. My muscles felt taught and my face rigid. My breathing was shallow. Catchy music play over the shoppers with a sexy woman’s voice singing about how she was going to be in love and her chosen love object would be too. The line behind and front of me was comprised of women. All the women were different and none really looking like the huge artsy images of flawless women scantily clad in a all styles and forms of lingerie that one could possibly imagine. Their bodies were thin, except they miraculously had been strategically enhanced with  bountiful and voluptuous curves.  Their stomachs were muscular and taught. Their facial features perfectly symmetrical and skin like a dewy peach. It was amazing, because I don’t think it really mattered. We all wanted the lingerie anyway. We were all kind of immersed in a world of beauty, music and heavenly sweet perfumes. I decided I better relax and enjoy it and started deep breathing. Focusing on my breath, diligently counting, I relaxed. The bright colors lifted my mood and were joyful. Everyone was having a great time in this store. It was exciting and fun to look at the gleaming displays and the clever combinations of fabric and lace. Women laughed and giggled together as they pulled out daring see through concoctions. Other women held their husband’s hands and pulled them through the aisles, their husbands with dazed and happy faces absorbing the overflowing femininity.

The sales staff were young and wore outfits from the stores line. The shop girls were energetic and willing to help you find your size or lack of and talk about the state of fashion and why was everything made so small nowadays. Not that they had to worry, but they were kind and commiserated.




I let myself become immersed in the experience and welcomed the entertainment. It was a great break from the serious job of nursing. Here I didn’t have to worry about accurate doses and finding just the right specialist. This was all play and fun. I watched moms as they followed their daughters, commenting and encouraging. As I pulled open a wide black lacquered drawer, the drawer slid out effortlessly and an array of gorgeous satin and silks in every hue of the rainbow peeked out. A daughter and mom stood next to me oohing and awing and this time the daughter was encouraging. Her mom chose a pair of glittering silver satin briefs. “Mom, yes, you have to get those, good choice mom!” Her mom, laughed and popped the briefs into her store bag. “I’m glad you’re getting with it again, Mom!” I guessed mom had been through something. A failed relationship? Sickness? Death of loved one? Who knew? That was middle age, my age. You never knew what was next. One day you could be sailing along and then a hurricane hit and ripped your sails to shreds. Hopefully, you could get up again, so far I did. And I hoped everybody did. My neighbors, my friends, all the people in the world. I didn’t want anyone to be overcome and not feel like they couldn’t get up and try again.

Something as simple as a bright happy store was helpful and encouraging. It bust through the cave of a bad experience and created light where the light had been snuffed out by a life trauma or bad news. Life went on and people had fun. You could choose to relax and enjoy the show or lock it out and continue down a dark path. Of course, it’s not as easy as just walking into a fun underwear store. There are so many kinds of depression and ways to overcome it that this story could actually be a book; and yes, there are so many books about the subject already. But I regress, because this story is about a store and people and how it means absolutely nothing, but can mean very much depending on the individuals experiencing it. It gives Kudos to the corporate world and Madison Avenue advertising executives who develop and contrive these businesses that entertain people. Of course, it’s business, it’s to make money, but isn’t it a wonderful way to do it? To bring joy, excitement and hope to so many people and doing it all with just silky, pretty underwear.




Photo by Demetrius Washington on Unsplash

Many women will gag at this concept, because they believe that products like this objectify woman and promote a certain treatment of women as sex objects. I can’t really say that they are wrong, but I just don’t like to waste my energy getting mad and prefer to see why it works rather than why it shouldn’t work. And maybe some corporation, someday will create a store like this for men. That would be a really fun store. I can picture it now, hard rock blasting over the speaker with huge posters of gorgeous athletes modelling all kinds of form fitting designs. I think everyone would love it and then men could stop having to buy their personals at large boring chain stores with house cleaners and construction materials. Why shouldn’t they have a special store too? Why shouldn’t they have fun too?

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The Creeper

Oh my creeping fig. It was so beautiful. It grew luxuriously and spread across the shingles of my old house like a cool green blanket. It absorbed the powerful rays of the sun that shown down on the hot summer days. Days that were 112 degrees at 10 am. Those rays that heated the redwood skeleton, a hundred years old. Radiating through lathe and plaster and pulsing until sundown when finally the pressure fizzled out with the approaching cool darkness of the night.

“You better get rid of it”, my neighbor counseled me. “My house was covered with it and it destroyed the shingles. We had to have all the shingles replaced and it was so expensive!” I looked across the street at the house directly across from mine, built around the same time. Old photos, taken before the house was burned to the ground by an angry drug dealer, showed a small quaint cottage covered in beautiful dark ivy. It was a fairytale cottage before the fire, but now it sat modernized. The weathered old shingles replaced with new beige siding, windows of vinyl and hollow doors. Perfectly modern and functional. The creeping fig, now a distant memory. The bones of charm were still there; but who knew when or if ever someone would be willing to revive it. I didn’t want the fig to ruin my shingles. I had seen how they secreted a fluid as strong as superglue. Once it attached, the vine could not undo it’s own cement. As a branch of the plant was pulled away;  paint and sometimes wood would come with it. I could just let it be and meld with the house. Allow it to have it’s symbiotic relationship with the old shingles and stucco.

 

creeping vines

I looked at my house and saw the tree like plant, ascending the stucco of the front porch and spreading around my front door and windows. It lent an old English vibe to my little cottage. The birds loved it too and had made a nest just above the entry of the porch. When we came out the front door, they would quickly jet away until we were gone and the coast was clear. Eventually small lantern shaped pods sprung free from the clusters of small dark leaves. I’d seen these in vintage paintings of foliage and fruit. So this is where they came from!

It was lovely. It cooled the house and the birds loved it. So, I kept it. It grew thick and dark and spread down the sides of the house. The house was cooler and my electric bill was so much lower the year before I trimmed it back to paint the house. Eventually, I had to paint the house and the painter assured me, “I can’t paint beneath those vines.” Only the twisted root jutted from the soil now. It looked like a miniature haunted tree from Grimms fairytales. The root was twisted with gnarled miniature arms which were once the platform the vine that had covered an area at least one thousand times it’s size. A tiny green leaf was starting to emerge from the back . The vine was alive and hadn’t given up. I felt triumphant and hopeful a new vine would soon be complementing the new paint.

Found in the high desert; especially in historic neighborhoods. It’s official name is Ficus Pumila. It’s know for it’s vigorous growth and ability to withstand transient severe weather conditions, such as frost or drought. It can be considered an invasive plant and somewhat parasitic, but like everything else it’s the origin of the perspective. It climbs quickly and sometimes it seems like overnight it will ascend at least one to two inches.

If you find yourself lucky enough to have one, here are some basic tips for care and promotion of the beautiful vine that will quickly cover most surfaces and create a healthy and verdant scene. Water your creeper lightly with fresh water from your garden spigot.  City water is fine-these plants are hardy and will drink gratefully.  Please be careful not to  drown the roots or they will get moldy for sure and possibly rot and perish.  Plant in partial sun, which is enough to stimulate reproduction and keep it steadily climbing and spreading. Those rays of sunshine filtered or coming from an angle will provide enough light to stimulate the photosynthesis process and produce lovely deep green, verdant foliage. Plant your creeper  in sandy soil with moderate nutrients. This hardy plant likes the frontier life and to fight for it’s existence.  It will thrive off a meager diet of nutrients.   Lastly, admire and encourage your climber. Your climber will perform for you and become beautiful. You will receive the gift of wonder and having known you protected a living and beautiful thing that flourished with your care.




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The Old Circle

Summer is coming and it’s the best time of year in Southern California. My favorite city was once a farming town, founded by a group of entrepreneurial bankers from the midwest. The land they purchased was an alluvial plane descending from the Santa Ana mountains. On the other side of this mountain range are the beaches. The cool fog drifts over almost every evening and then burns off with the first sunlight. When seen from the right angle at a certain time a day it looks tropical and you could swear you were driving into an island. Palm trees jut up against small green mountains with a backsplash of blue sky and puffy white clouds. The city started as a farming community that sustained itself on citrus crops. Those farms are gone now, along with the groves that released a heavenly sent every evening at sundown and blanketed the city with a heady, intoxicating perfume.
Summer is hot here. It’s all about very light clothing, no sleeves, mostly shorts and tall glasses filled with ice and sweet liquid. They call it the dog days of summer. If you are feeling particularly ambitious, it’s wise to rise early and get everything done in the coolness of the morning. As the day progresses it’s time to hit the porch and do nothing. Just like the dogs. Lay back, try to breath and don’t get overheated, because there aren’t too many ways to cool back down. Now we have indoor showers, air conditioning and refrigerators. Back then, you had to improvise. Sleeping porches were common and the family would gather on the second story to catch the night breezes and chat about the happenings of the day as they drifted off to sleep. Once you get used to the heat, it’s wonderful. The body relaxes, the skin opens and breathes. Everything and everybody slows down and it’s summer-time for vacation!




When summer hits, the main event is the fourth of July. People from all over the city head into the historic core for a good old Fourth of July parade. The local school bands and the Rotary are in full force. Candidates for city office ride by in old Thunderbirds or new souped up Mustangs with a young gorgeous pageant queens at their side. People set up small encampments with chairs, blankets, drinks and food and settle in to enjoy the good old fashioned spectacle. Laughing with friends and neighbors and feeling thankful that they landed in this place.
The city was planned with a circle at it’s center. It was meant to symbolize a crown. The crown of English royalty that invested in the small inland colonies of California and provided financial backing to make sure the farms grew and prospered. A hundred years ago famous racers and their vintage Stutz and Fiats tore around the circle to complete one hundred screaming, terrifying laps at more than 100 miles per hour. Beautiful grand farmhouses were erected along it’s borders for the more prominent business leaders and politicians. Many had carriage houses, tennis courts and later swimming pools. Now the races have a become a historic relic and many of the homes are gone. For those that remain; some are well-preserved and some not. Some are modified beyond recognition. It’s a mish mash of eclectic vintage architecture lined with dusty palms, ancient pepper and oak trees. It’s old and lovely and full of history that’s intriguing. The circle has persevered and remains a landmark to Southern Californians. It’s easily seen from the air and serves as a landmark for pilots.
Farming gave the city, it’s first purpose and history.




Over a hundred years have passed and now there are other reasons to live here. As farming phased out, development and industry took over and were a success. Some of the old orchards still remain up in the hills rising above the city. Beautiful old citrus trees stand majestic and silent with globes or orange and yellow fruit hanging enticingly from their branches. Small noises of animal life punctuate the quiet as birds fly over the canopy singing joyfully.
This is summer, this is history, this is Southern California.