Coláiste na nGael, Leuven (photo)

In 1992, I was hot on the trail of an obscure folksong I was obsessed with, by Jacques Brel written in 1961, popularized by Theo Bikel. The euphonious Marieke was said to have died in Leuven, Belgium, a circular moated town. While visiting the moat where Marieke was supposed to have drowned, we stumbled upon an old iron gate, black and gold, with ornate lettering.

In those days, there was no internet, only this thread of faux memory to go by. So this is a cribbed-together hybrid memory fragment enhanced by Google. This memory fragment is a marriage of sorts: something old, something new. Borrowed. Certainly blue. A story that spans decades. Call it memoir. We also visited an homage statue of Marieke in Brugge as Brel sang that she was loved between Brugge and Ghent. I suspect Brel was also singing of a much older love story. And his Marieke was her namesake. 

Jacques Brel was popular well before my time. But I loved his songs, resurrected by folksingers, his songs were adapted and given a new lease on life via the 1968 Off-Broadway musical revue, Jacques Brel Is Alive and Well and Living in Paris. 

Of course, I had no knowledge of any of this, but I was familiar with the haunting title as it was something my mother once said to me. It became a bit of a koan. And then sometime in the mid 1970s, I saw The Committee perform some of Brel’s songs in a street theater piece in Sausalito. Thats whers I met Mimi Fariña and Scott Beach of It’s white flower day at Macy’s commercial fame.

I first met Theo Bikel in 1981 or 82 at a Bread & Roses concert—I was working for Mimi Fariña. I asked him if he would sing Marieke. I think he was surprised by the request. I have photos of him from 1982 performing on stage. Larger than life, he stood at 6’1”, and could sing in 21 languages, whereas I could barely survive in one language. Theo made famous the songs of Fiddler on the Roof. But the mysterious Marieke took my breath away. I was haunted by it.

In 1992, my Dutch friend Vins took me to Leuven, where he had studied philosophy at the extraordinary beautiful marbled edifices of Katholieke Universiteit Leuven, (est. 1425). Below the medieval moat, there was an iron gate. He couldn’t make out the lettering. Without thinking, I translated the Old Hibernian-Irish script which read, Coláiste na nGael (est. 1607). 

He said, Do you realize it’s in Irish? I did a double-take. My grandmother’s old Gaelic League copybook lessons paid off. That, and a mental crib note from an old tee shirt stamped with an antique Guinness label of St. James’ Gate. Fitting, as Leuven, the place where linen was made, was also the home of Stella Artois. Wherever there were Irish monks, there was always beer to be had—whether by morning or evening star.

This exchange sparked my interest on the role of medieval Irish monks founding scriptoria and universities on the continent—something my grandmother nattered on about, but I didn’t have the historical context by which to understand what she was saying. And here it was, proof positive. A portal to the past. An Irish gate in a medieval town in Brabant, reknown for linen manufacture, of all places. 

Marieke’s tiny moat was turbid. So small. How she must’ve suffered as the water dragged her down. Love gone wrong. I never did find the words to the song, and all I could remember was the refrain, Marieke, sea of bitterness, star of the sea, rebellious one, my namesake.

Ay, Marieke, Marieke
Your love alone, your love alone

The day is gone, the day is gone, the day is gone.

Theo Bikel, Bread & Roses, Greek Theater, UC Berkeley 1982

Jacques Brel singing Marieke, 1961. And the lyrics, thanks to Google.

Bread & Roses award for volunteer service

My connection with Bread & Roses began when I landed a job through my childhood friend, Micaela Wall to clean the Mill Valley office for Mimi Fariña in the late 1970s.

When Mimi discovered I was also a calligrapher, she put me to work making all the signage for the big benefit concerts (1979-82?) at the Berkeley Greek Theatre. I was promoted to calligrapher-in-residence and chief hooverer. I still have all the vintage B&R T-shirts designed by Stanley Mouse, and my backstage passes. (They all mysteriously shrank! Hmmmm.)

When College of Marin classmate Robin Williams spotted me backstage after a concert (we survived Jim Dunn's theater bootcamp together), he gave me a bone-crushing sweaty hug, introduced me to Eric Idle, of Monyt Python fame, who reminded me of a Siamese cat, and local comedian "Big Mike" Michael Pritchard. I can't remember a thing—other than I laughed so hard I wet my pants.

In the long run, the annual B&R weekend benefit concerts proved costly to produce (but they were memorable—a musician's wet dream) so Mimi began producing local benefit concerts in Marin. I moved to Sonoma Co. We lost touch. But Mimi did write me a glowing letter of recommendation.

Fast forward, about a decade later, I met musicians Neil O'Neill and Wendy Worsley, who, coincidentally, were performers for B&R. Which led me right back to B&R. I was the background roadie getting Neil ready for concerts, etc. Sadly, Mimi got cancer, and stepped down from B&R... The end of an era.

Then, ca. 2004, B&R staff asked Neil and me to sing in the holiday concerts for the old folks. I think I missed a few years due to viruses (no sharing colds with the old folks).

Also, beginning in 2004, Neil and I volunteered at the B&R booth at the Kate Wolf Music Festival, and we've attended that festival off and on since then.

I mentioned to one of the B&R coordinators, Lisa Starbird, that I used to work for Mimi way back when, and she immediately put me on the Appreciation list, as a form of documentation. And now I'm actually getting an award for something like 40 years of service! OK, so I missed a decade, plus change, and was incognito for another decade...but I was always rattling around in the bushes.

I'm floored and flabbergasted and honored to be getting this award this afternoon at the annual B&R jam. So, if I hadn't whined to Lisa that I wanted my own invite to the annual B&R Jam, vs always being Neil's plus one, this award recognition would've never happened.

So many fantastic folks I've met through B&R: Peter Mertz, Jeannie Bogardis, Ken Harrison, B&R coordinator Marian Huebler, Brenda Laribee, and Dennis McIntyre, have been my steadfast and stalwart connections throughout all this. So many dedicated folks at B&R. I am honored to be among them. If not for them... Just wow!

Who knew that hoovering and spit-polishing Mimi's B&R office so many years ago would lead to all this? Give us bread and gives us roses. And vacuum cleaners too. It really was a Hoover.

Drought-breaker Day

It's been raining so hard, you practically need a snorkel out there. Most of the roads in San Rafael, Richmond and Oakland are canals. It's beginning to look a bit like Holland. The underside of my car is very, very clean. As are my brakes. Squeaky clean. And they are also not working. Soft brakes is really upping the ante. But the show must go on. We’re singing for the elders at the San Rafael Whistlestop Christmas luncheon for Bread and Roses today. We’re braving the storm with duck feet and nae knickers. At least Neil is, as he’s wearing his kilt.

In San Rafael, the water is all the way up to 2nd Street ramp by noon, and the San Rafael exit, near the canal, was a duck's infinity pool. Water birds were churning all over the place. Seriously partying down. Luckily we veered to the left side of the exit, and drove on the shoulder as the water was up to the bridge, and was at least a foot deep on the roadbed. The force of the water slowed us down quick. No need for brakes.

Of course we were late for our carol performance at Whistlestop Wheels. But at least we had an excuse. The parking lot was under two inches of water, and my boots decided to split their soles at that moment. It was a packed house. They had to wait for us, as Neil was singing the finale, Auld Lang Syne, solo. We sang extra hard to make up for being late. It was almost toast for us just getting there.

Driving home was another adventure. Hwy 580 northbound to the Richmond Bridge was closed. Probably an accident. Luckily we're going the other way. In Richmond, the Gerrard exit was completely underwater at 4 PM. One guy drove down the meridian to avoid the puddle. More like a pond or inland sea by the train tracks, reminding us this was all once marshlands. Kind of exciting at Golden Gate Fields/Gilman exit too. There were actual waves surging across the intersection. I swear I saw Nessie frolicking by the racetrack.

I think the drought has been thoroughly trounced. All that praying for rain is ganging up on us. Now we're dancing and praying just to get to the car without drowning. And Yahoo Weather must be seriously out of practice, as it predicted ZERO chance of rain today. And to think it was sunny this AM. Right.

It's a deluge, practically Biblical. The epicenter seems to be south of here. In San Jose, of all places. It just got a half a year’s worth if rain all at once. Flash flood warnings for the entire Bay Area, and massive flooding inland. The Sacramento has stormed its banks, ditto that with the Truckee. Some places got 7-8 inches of rain all at once. More than a cloudburst. Yes, the Truckee has leaped its banks too. We’re talking rain falling in biblical proportions—falling on the snowpack! The Pineapple Express has arrived decked up in full monsoon garb. Literally sheets of rain. There goes the snowpack, which means, pradoxically, we'll be back in drought mode, come summer.

Oh, and my new camera died today—a good soaking did not improve things. A lens malfunction—it's not even a year old. Ditto that with the one it replaced. I’m having a serious run of bad luck with short-lived cameras. But I do love the quality of the Panasonic Leica lens. And so I can’t even take photos. I used to cry when my cameras died, so much of my identity is tied up with cameras. an extension of my eye, but it’s how I process things, really. Still, a camera a year?

So I’m bearing witness with words today. Tears would only add to the flood. And to boot, my clutch is failing. Every time we have to stop, I wonder if it's gonna be the end. (We later swing by Mike’s Garage. Car is fixed, it’s not the clutch, but a leak in the hydraulic system. Next time, check the fluids.) The camera, however, is toast. Four years of praying for rain is catching up on us all at once. I guess the drought is officially over for a while. At least in the Bay Area. But tonight there's the full moon and the king tides....

rev 1/22/2017, and 2020

from a Facebook post.

Choose Three Famous People

Molly Fisk asked on Facebook: Name three famous people you'e known.

Mine would be a litany too long to post. How do I choose just three?

Then there's "what kind of famous?" Do I choose from writers, poets, actors, musicians, public figures, etc.? By how well I knew them—an actual event vs. a one-off? 

Writers: I shared a wee drop of whiskey with Seamus Heaney in an elevator in Rotterdam with the African poets. Rita Dove was my partner in the Breyton Breytenbach translation sessions. We did not drink whiskey.

I went drinking and sang Irish songs with Tess Gallagher and Raymond Carver at the Port Townsend Tavern in Washington. Let's just say alcohol was consumed and I was a lightweight. They weren't.

I hung out with Maya Angelou and her son Guy at National Poetry Week. We sat backstage with Lucille Clifton waiting for Maya to come offstage. They talked about the gravitational speed of their breasts reaching to their waists.

3 Hams at a Bread & Roses Party at the Nagy's

 Bread & Roses Party at Toby & Phil Nagy's, Piedmont, CA. Will Durst, Maureen Hurley & Michael Pritchard,  May, 2004?

Michael Pritchard Director to all three, all right take the joy of life thing down a bit you three. This is an artistic photo, same result can't help these faces they show years of laughs love and Bread & Roses compassion. Plus, of course, three hams. A hamilicious photo!

July 3, 2012 at 5:27am 

Maureen Hurley I need to find the original of this photo and see if I can make a better print—this is a terrible copy—from when digital was in its infancy. I've been saving it all these years to send to you but in those days you didn't even do email, O great gorilla-fingered one! Welcome to the digital age. And Facebook, no less!

added 4/24/2016

Misc Bread & Roses letters

• Bread & Roses Festival handbill 1982

 

Bread & Roses Festival handbill 1982, photos

Misc  Bread & Roses letters