About this collection of poems, memoir and whatnot

About this collection, the first poetry journal I found dates from June 8, 1979, so most of my early poems did not make it into the digital format. (I've since found a bunch of earlier work, no journals—hand-calligraphed poems for David Bromige's poetry class at Sonoma State, F 78), so I've moved this post from June, 1979, to Jan of 1978). I think June, 1979 was when I first began to take myself seriously as a poet. Reading the earlier, work I don't think I'll be publishing most of it, unless it's a version.

I'm still hunting down the polished versions, and will post them as I go, so check back early and often. Whenever possible—especially if there's a huge discrepancy between the final copy of a poem as compared to first write, I've tried to post the handwritten version below. If I have the date of revision, it's posted. But not always.

How I embarked upon this endeavor, was after an accidental posting for a poem with the wrong date sent it way onto the past. MY blog organized with old and new work, came to a standstill. I couldn't find anything.

Then I was opening up some old digital files, and began to notice that some pieces (if I could open them), were missing chunks of text—most notably the end lines. So the race was on to get all my stuff online. Well, maybe, not ALL, but at least the strong stuff. If I changed a word or two, I don't add a rev. note. But most of this early stuff was posted mid-to late 2015. If I had any other substantiating info, especially the handwritten version, I posted that as well. Very archival.

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About this collection of poems, memoir and whatnot

Bavaria notes, 1977, drawing of Maximillian

This piece is not edited. It is a placeholder. So read at your own peril. Maybe someday I will clean it up. About the only thing cool about the class was that I did a drawing of Maximillian. The German teacher, Gisela Jungling used to acres of slides to teach, so it was very disjointed, as are my notes.

She taught about the foundation of all the cities of Bavaria, then progressed to every single war fought in Bavaria, including the reformation, etc. In other words, it was mostly a history class versus a culture class. The final was June 1, 1978. Several other SSU foreign language teachers were more successful at teaching regional and cultural classes. Marguerite Pendergast, and Adele F ? who taught me calligraphy, were great. —MH 2023

What is called Germany today lies across a path of every invasion originating in the tremendous open areas of Asia minor, from the earliest Celtic and teutonic tribes, the Arabs, the turks the slavic, and the Magyar. From the Mediterranean Latin to the Alpine, they all settled in Germany, so Germany is racially and culturally mixed like all other European nations. The Arian or Nordic type doesn’t necessarily exist in Bavaria and many people have dark hair, brown eyes round skull types.

The Roman establish trading post far beyond the Rhine, and it was from them that much of the information came from the historian. Tacitus, Germanía was the first historical account of Germanic tribes: Goths, Vandals, Franks, Angles, Saxons, Jutes, Slavic, especially the Huns of the 5th century. 800

Charlemagne established Western control of Germany, and Christianity was introduced to the heathen Saxons, who accepted it only under compulsion. Arts and letters flourished, and a school system was set up. (Insert story of Johannus Scotus Eriugena, aka John the Scott.)

The disposition of the German people can be traced back to historical constellations of the great migrations. It is there that the character and destiny of the German people originated in the encounter of barbarian Germanic tribes, with the highest civilizations of the epoch, the Roman empire.

Everything that is happening in Germany, since then, can be viewed as a consequence of this fateful encounter.

The culture in the land before the Germans came, the word Germania is a Latin loan word of Celtic origin used in Hellenistic and Roman sources, Tacitus. The Teutoni were a Celtic rather than a Germanic tribe. Second century BC Romans.

Then the teacher gave a list of all the important cities of Bavaria, and talked about their attitude, which I will not go into too much. Other than Augsburg was founded by the Romans 2000 years ago. While Regensburg was founded by the Celts. (oppida). It was called Castro Regina. Most of the city lists date back from when the Gothic cathedrals were built and I am less interested in that. Porsche Pretoria is a Roman gate built in 179 a A.D. Regensburg was a Celtic town taken over by the Romans 2000 years ago. RadasBona. Romans built the fortress Castro Regina.

Bavarian tribes migrated there in the sixth century and made it the seat of their dukedom. In the middle ages, it became the seat of the Carolinian monarchy and an imperial commercial center. Costa Regina has the oldest city charter in Germany.

In Regensburg, a 12th century Roman church was built by Scottish and Irish monks. (How much you wanna bet it was only Irish monks and not Scottish monks? There is always confusion because of the word Scotia minor in Scotia major.) The north portal Christians and pagan motifs are intermixed.

Wurtzberg was inhabited for by Celts for thousands of years. German tribes, Irish monk Killian was an apostle of the franks.

Albrecht Durer’s home was Nurenberg he was born 1471 to 1528. he was a painter, and an engraver, he was third of 18 children of Goldsmith Albert the elder. He was brought up in Goldsmith, but in 1486 he entered the school of Michael Wolf and toured abroad in 1490. 1494 he returned to Nurenberg to an arranged marriage, quite possibly an unhappy marriage. He took two journeys to Venice in 1495 and 1505 to 1507 the second visit was fruitful, feast of the rosary, Adam and Eve, massacre of 10,000 Christians 1508, virgin Trinity, 1514 he

He was under the service of the Maximillion from 1520 to 21 and he went to Netherlands to attain continuance of a pension granted by Maximilian. He returned to Nurenberg and worked increasingly until his death. He was less of a painter than a designer with scientific theories combined to create superb studies he was number one as a copper engraver and wood cutter his apocalypse series 1497 life of the virgin and publish books on human proportions are stellar.

The reformation 30 years war, formal religion was abandoned, the rise of Protestantism and monasteries were secularized and property seized and used for schools. Reformation was considered revitalizing religion. The revolt of the peasant, turmoils squelched, continued as before the Dukes were again, and power and measures were taken against protestants.

Wilhelm, counter reformation council of Trent Catholicism, reestablished and nonbelievers were re-removed. Albrecht the fifth clergy and religious renewal Catholic Bavarian became Catholic Wilhelm the fifth was a patron of the arts of buildings and music during the Renaissance, he collected people and founded the Jesuit church of Saint Michael, the first great churches of northern Italy and Munich Renaissance style—no towers or statues of ruling family in the façade no naves, pillars alter was the main focal point.

Albert 5 built museum and went bankrupt religious from 1618 to 48 was a 30 years war and that was the Hapsburg versus member states and became an international war on German ground. Spain and France, Denmark, Sweden Austria, all were involved. 

Maximilian was Duke and Bavaria was bankrupt, somehow he lifted it out of bankruptcy and increased power in the Catholic role protestant union he developed a modern army…something called battle of the white mountain, which he won.

He received Swedish king Gustav, Aldolphus lands in Germany in 1631 and Munich once begin again, became protestant with new Nurenberg in 1632 the siege, drained it of all of its wealth and collapsed into despair, France entered the war and there was a great fear of the Hapsburg family. No wonder treaty of Westphalia.

Germany was shattered and more than half the people lost to war from 17,000,000 to 4,000,000 it was politically cut into pieces and Maximillian tried economical reconstruction to pay off the ward debt.

He hated war and believed in the Roman Empire, and that Catholicism would have died in Germany and Austria without him. That’s one reason why he’s called Maximillian the great to support the arts through the 30 years war, mainly architecture and then it goes into Baroque and Rococo, so not my favorite things neoclassicism so Maximillian lost his land to the Hapsburg.

There’s another peasant uprising and 1705 the land was given back to the Italian Jesuits Baroque style Gateway to Regency style of Baroque, what I always called Barocco, lots of name dropping, which means very little to me even though I did go to Trier on the Bavarian Alsace border.

Now we’re up to the French revolution, three coalitions, Austria, Prussia, and France and the pinite the princes were vacated to the Rhine, the tried to stay neutral the various could not remain neutral because it was surrounded by Austria alliance with France and it was divided up terribly and it became a kingdom of France and 1806 was known a pretty sight.

It certainly explains a lot how Hitler came to power the factions through the 1800s set the scene battle of Leipzig, 1866 Salzburg 1846 Napoleon really marched through there the secularization of the monitor and 1803 filled the state coffers, which were empty 50% of Bavarian land belong to the church so it was politically feasible to secularize, but it was done with a vengeance churches were ransacked, and the only people who profited from this were the noble classes.

Culture disappeared, and it became an age of darkness. Ludwig I reopened many of the spiritual centers, but much was destroyed. Feudalism was abolished. it was forbidden for people to continue their religious customs because it encourages the credibility of the people. Ruthless handling of this matter he wanted to see more work less holidays. The old you will work and you will like it right there.

here’s an interesting tidbit, he built Valhalla in the hall of liberation and became less popular after 1837 political censorship was imposed.

Lola Montez! appeared, and Ludwig became infatuated with her which brought the collapse of the kingdom, and he was forced to abdicate to his son, Maximillion the second, he died in Nice and his grandson brought him back to Munich where he was re-buried.

Maximillian the second reformed Bavaria with liberal intellectualism something called the ministry of Dawn reforms, freedom of the Press removal of feudalism voting parliament 1848 first German parliament in Frankfurt and it looks like it was still part of Austria at this point not resolve versus Prussia, sided with Austria, which was not a popular move, separation of judicial and legislative powers.

Maxamillion the second was a scholar, introspective Moody scientific tastes, industrial development, postal telegraph, the Bavarian Alps and purchased a castle. He loved the legend of Percival and he rebuilt it on a Germanic trope. Munich artists were employed. I have a drawing of I guess him. Which I will include.

Lola Montez was a dancer and she said she learned to dance from the gypsies. But she came from Ireland. She fled to Bavaria, because she wasn’t allowed to dance in Munich. She held political sway over Ludwig. And the Jesuit spread rumors and war and were afraid for his loose morals.

The Jesuits were in political power, and Lola felt that the clergy shouldn’t have that kind of power. Ludwig was only interested in artistic endeavors and didn’t really care about political intrigues, but he did listen to Lola. She ousted the Jesuits within a period of eight weeks and had complete control of Ludwig, and the people became afraid of her and her Republican ideals.

The Jesuit political party tried to slander her and rioting ensued. She was forced to flee from Munich to Switzerland and England. However, she changed the whole government of Bavaria.

Was she sent by Erasmus to overthrow the Jesuit government? I very much doubt it, considering that she was from Ireland. This is the teachers conjecture.

Ludwig saved Wagner‘s music and lived in his own dreamworld. Wagner brought back his childhood memories, mythology that dreamworld that captivated him. Wagner was ordered to be banished from the kingdom, and Ludwig refused. There were many attacks on Wagner and fear of Republicanism. Wagner fled to Switzerland. Ludwig started building a crazy castle. Of course today Wagner is revered in Bavaria.

War of 1866 three weeks war German against German in the Prussians one versus Austria expulsion of Austria 1866 and Deutsche bond the German confederation. had to pay for siding with Austria. General Bismarck wanted to join the North German band with Prussia and he needed Bavaria to control Austria so very was given many privileges since the control of the army during peace time was pertinent.

Foreign policy to Bismark, seven weeks war….Lord, how many wars…. Bavarian army had to march against France and one Bismarck had Ludwig offer the emperors crown to the Kaiser Wilhelm to be emperor of Germany. Ludwig was paid by Bismarck for this favor.

(Note: Charles McGeehan, who I worked with Amsterdam in 1990 was related to emperor Wilhelm).

Bismarck had respect for Ludwig and Bismarck tried to counsel him before his death. Ludwig was proclaimed insane without any medical proof or incriminating evidence was handed in 1870 he was incapable of caring on the kingship, and his brother died insane. The secret about his death caused a scandal conspiracy and his family called him and say was he killed he became an idol for the Bavarians.

Folklore December 6, Saint Nicholas, celebrated on 5 December 12 little straw bundles lady of the house sprays them with holy water so the 13th bundle can’t get in. That’s the devil they scared bad children. Boys dressed in girls clothing to fool the scary. The perch and the horned beak monsters who chase monsters with bells. The bell movers middle world procession, carrying bells that way 150 pounds around their waist they represent Winter and the leader carries hoops of feathers.

Easter trees with eggs hung from the town Plaza. St. George’s day riding in medieval pageantry. He was supposed to bless the horses in spring. There was sword, dancing, and symbols of chasing away winter. The Pentecost ride through the Bavarian forest is similar. They made three circles around the chapel carrying chains 40 days after Easter. Maypoles dancing, festivals music stealing of the Maypole by neighboring villages. You had to get your maypole back and it was paid in beer and ceremoniously brought back with a procession.

There were women’s possessions and feast of Corpus Christi after Pentecost bread, incense, bells, houses were decorated, they were altars decorated with flowers and bells.

Octoberfest was full parade for Sunday in October the last fall festival of Saint Leonard, the saint of the mentally ill. Hence the use of chains, it was reinterpreted for animals, especially cows and horses. Chocked or costumes were worn at every festival.

The Maybach or the May goat in Munich the first two weeks in May

Passion plays staged outdoors Every 10 years. The largest festival in Germany was a princely wedding of Lance hut. middle ages costumes held every three years 10 fires horses. Example of medieval lies constant costume shows.

Passion plays started after the 30 years war, plague was raging, and if they saved if they were saved, they put it on every 10 years, and 1634 they produce passion plays from May to September with 83 performances.

It used to be held in cemeteries before his stage was built nine years of rehearsal and preparation took at one and a half years and only natives were eligible to act in the passion plays.

Dialect help to keep old songs alive until recently, but music has become bastardized bastardized in modern times both offensive and erotic elements are suppressed. Dialogue changed.

Yodeling connected with the Alpine regions, special alms to past produces rich cheeses, and butter. ( I wonder if that has something to do with transhumance center. Bua, or boy Shepherd, because we know that buachaill means herdboy in Irish.

Germans yodel in Bavaria and Switzerland so it’s an alpine tradition. That would explain the Celtic hangover.

A couple would sing to announce a dance in 3/4 time heavy slow motion with emphasis on each measure rhythm is affected. Words are forced into rhythmic patterns, Jews harps were used very music,

There are several mentions of Louis Crannoch the younger born in Bamberg in 1472 and engraver, who learned from his father, a court painter in Wittenberg, under Frederick, the wise book printing prayer, book court, painting, commemorative battles, especially the battle of Nuremberg 1547 he was imprisoned in Oxford, and set free in 1552 and died in 53.

He was considered a painter of the German reformation with religious influence, not as intellectual as Durer or Holbein, he was naïve painter his judgment of Paris, warm colors mostly wood, cuts with religious themes. He studied under his father. I said that similar style to his father, he was also a Burgermeister of Wittenberg Whitten. He made many wood cuts of the Bible.

Another artist Albrecht Eltdorfen, 1480 engraver and painter city architect until his death follow of Dora, possibly a huge pupil Known as little Albert or petty Albert no Italian influence not influenced by the Renaissance of landscape pieces and scenery of over people that was a huge move.

And then I have Baroque the age of light from 1600 to 1750. It probably was my paper.

Baroque was a phrase attacked onto the last phase of the renaissance era following mannerism. Baroque summed up the different trends since the 15th century. People were more enlightened and new ideas and discoveries that had brought the medieval world to a close, no longer shocked them. Europe was more prosperous and powerful, except for Germany and Italy the Renaissance was the era of the scientist and the humanist. There are no more genius renaissance men like the roar and da Vinci, who opened up a whole new field of knowledge at once in science, philosophy, and art. This becomes the age of the specialist, like Newton and Galileo, who laid the foundation of the technical marvels of their day.

Baroque was an international style during that time scientific and philosophical thought, became too complex, abstract, and systematic for one person to absorb at a time so specialists evolved.pro is not a result of political, religious or intellectual developments. It is a 

baroque art, acknowledges intellectual, no sharp distinctions between sculpture and painting, and enters a symbiosis previously unknown with architecture to form a compound illusion like a stage. All the world of stage. The human every day approach to religious art that Caravaggio adopted in Italy, had been been long part of the northern arts since Gothic times. In Bavaria best known for its architecture, because of the 30 years war, the number of buildings were small but in the 1690s saw period of intense activity that lasted 50 years and created some of the most innovative creations buildings in the history of architecture. 1745 to 54 Dominicus Zimmerman created what may be the finest spatial design of the mid 19th century in Bavaria the exterior and of the interior are overwhelming.

Gisela Jungling was such an incredibly boring teacher that my note showed. She used to slides to teach, so it was very disjointed as are my notes, the final was June 1, 1978

San Geronimo! reprise 1976 bicentennial

When I was very young, I was the female lead in a historical musical review at Lagunitas School, ca. 1965. We raised funds for the Freedom School in Indianola, Mississippi, during the Civil Rights movement. In 1976 we did a bicentennial revue where I co-directed and wrote updated skits with the original producer Barbara Scott for a SSU theatre community service project. Robbie Raffael and I made elaborate full body paper mâché headdresses a la Fred Curchack. I was surprised to find these papers tucked in among my old letters. The original 1965 program was destroyed but it looks like Barbara merely updated a copy the old program. Close enough.

for backstory, see San Geronimo! a school play, and Freedom School

Family history paper for History 495

For 750 years, Ireland has struggled and fought against the oppression of foreign invaders… “Those were the centuries, when the British Raj in Ireland attempted the systematic eradication of the Irish language, music and song, poetry and literature.”

In 1649, Oliver Cromwell invaded Ireland. A religious zealot, he slaughtered 3000 men, women, and children in the town of Drougheda, shipped the surviving women and children to the Caribbean to be sold as slaves, and wrote afterwards, “it has pleased God to bless our endeavors at Drogheda. I wish that all honest hearts may give the glory of this to God, alone, to who, indeed the praise of this mercy belongs.” Letter to John Bradshaw, 1649

During the reign of Elizabeth I, 10,000,000 acres of the best Irish arable land was stolen from the Irish, and given to the English and Scottish Protestant settlers of the north.

In the early 18th century, the Penal Laws were enacted to secure the Protestant Ascendancy and remained in effect for 125 years. These punitive laws deprived Irish Catholic citizens of any legal rights. The most crippling of these laws was the one forbidding Irishman from leaving their farms to one son when they died.

In Ireland, under English law, there was no primogeniture, the land had to be equally divided amongst all the sons, and the end result was the utter destruction of the Irish countryside. Farms became smaller and smaller with each passing generation, and were increasingly devoted to substance farming of potatoes, while the Anglo-Irish Protestant Ascendancy built their great mansions on stolen land.

(Beginning in the 1690s, the English had imposed on Ireland the infamous Penal Laws (e.g., a ban on Catholic education, either at home or on the Continent; the expulsion of priests; bounties on priests who remained; and a complex of vicious de jure discriminations in employment, intermarriage, and property), all in an apparent effort gradually to extirpate Catholicism.) —Miracles and Sacrilege, ch. 3 

An unintended side effect of the Penal Laws was the Great Famine (an Gorta Mór was a form of genocide) coupled with a series of droughts from 1846 to 1851, which was followed by a potato blight, brought from North America, which destroyed the entire potato crop three years in a row. More than half the population of 8 million were entirely reliant upon potatoes for food; when the potatoes died, so did the rural Irishman. 

Some 1,500,000 peasants died and another million immigrated. Meanwhile, the great Anglo-Irish landlords of Ireland exported Irish beef, pork, lamb, and grain to feed Great Britain that might have otherwise saved the starving Irish. 

(Listen to Christy Moore’s long version of The City of Chicago, at 2:30, he recites a ship’s manifest of what was shipped out of Cork Harbor on a single day, on the 15th of September in 1847. 186 barrels of flour, 286 barrels of barley, 334 barrels of wheat, 96 casks of ham, 486 boxes of eggs, and 219 head of cattle. There was plenty of food in Ireland during the famine, just not for the Irish.  YouTube)

Alexis deToqueville who visited Ireland in 1835, said after hearing tales of the times of Cromwell and William of Orange: “whatever one does the memory of great persecutions is not forgotten, and who sells in justice sooner or later reap the fruits.” —Miracles and Sacrilege, ch. 3

The British finally were able to reap their bitter fruits when a rebellion broke out on Easter, Monday, 1916, with guerilla warfare lasting until 1921. Most of Ireland had finally achieved independence and was almost free from bondage, except for the province of Ulster which remained under British control.

The populace of Ireland immigrated to America for numerous reasons. They had been long taught to look upon America as a refuge of their race, the home of their kindred. Their feelings towards America were those of love and loyalty.

But when they landed, their great expectations were somewhat checked… “The roots of the agitation and disturbances, which have convulsed Ireland, and shaken to England, were also to be found in America.” The American, Irish, and their influence on Irish politics, Philip Bagenal, 1882.

The Irish came to America in droves because America was perceived as the land of political and religious freedom. They came to escape the British Pale. They thought America offered a chance at a better life.

My grandmother, (who was born in Bantry, County Cork in 1893), said, “I came here to get away from English rule. I found that the Anglo-Saxon propaganda was worse here than in Ireland. Fact is, they were beginning to ease up a little when I left home. Of course, they were still draining money out of Ireland… “

She found that America stood, not for the American ideal, but America emulated and admired British thoughts and ideals.

I asked my grandmother why she immigrated to America she said, “I wanted to get away from Ireland more than anything else, I couldn’t see any sort of life for me back there. We actually lived in an “easy” period. The Penal Laws were abolished, the Catholic Church was no longer persecuted after 1870, but there was no future for me there. The push to immigrate was strong. My aunt May, my mother’s youngest sister, came out to San Francisco earlier, and she kept writing to me to come out. When she sent me my fare, I came, and that was that.

She continued, “Uncle Jim Sullivan came over first. He brought out Aunt May, and she, in turn, was to bring out another member of the family. One member of the family always paid the fare for the ones back home. I brought out my sister Kitty and it cost over $100.”

I asked her about the trip over, “I came over on the SS Lusitania, it was her maiden voyage. It took five days to cross the Atlantic, and the whole ship was vomiting, except me. The seamen had a job cleaning it all up. Berths were comfortable and we had plenty of hot tea.

When we went through immigration at Staten Island, New York, the customs man, he was Irish, and he said to me, “and what have we here acushla?” When I showed him my suitcase, he didn’t even check my luggage. I had some Irish whiskey, Irish tea, carrageenan moss, and a Blue Willow platter in my case. In those days you weren’t allowed to bring those things into the US.

“I already had gotten my visas and my passport in Queenstown, Cobh/Cove of Cork. Everyone there was helpful because they were immigrants too. I took the Staten Island ferry to the train station, and said goodbye to my brother, Joe, who had made the trip with me, but didn’t have enough train fare ($5) to go to San Francisco. He stayed in New York, just long enough to earn his fare, and out he came. (He got a job on a ship and sailed to Galveston.)

“It took me six days to reach the West Coast. I thought I’d never get here. I was on the Northwestern Pacific. I arrived in San Francisco on June 21, 1912, Midsummer-nights day, and it was sunny! It took me quite a while to adjust. I lived with my aunt May and Uncle Dick (I think she meant Dan) on Moultry Avenue.”

For 12 years my grandmother was a domestic engineer and a tailor. She worked for several Jewish families—all of them doctors (including the Rixfords)—until she was married in 1924.

During her first 12 years in San Francisco, she joined several groups for women. She said that The Young Ladies’ Institute was particularly boring. Nothing ever happened. So she joined the Gaelic League and the Irish Liberty League, both of which supported the cause in Ireland.

From 1916 to 1922, she was deeply involved in supporting the Irish rebellion. When she was with the Irish Education League, they conducted boycotts of English goods. They patterned their protests after the Suffragettes. They marched up and down Market Street with banners, similar to our anti-war protest rallies during the Vietnam war.

People were sent out from Ireland to collect money and guns. They received advance notice of speakers arriving from Ireland, the likes of Eamon de Valera, Con Kellagher, and Liam Mellows, and organized town hall meetings, and handed out leaflets advertising the speakers.

The Irish Americans were great supporters then as they are now for the cause in Ulster and Belfast. After the lectures, money was gathered up in wicker baskets, and was either sent to Ireland, or was used to buy guns here which were shipped to Ireland. My grandfather was a member of the Knights of the Red Branch.

“I was there the night Woodrow Wilson came to speak at the League of Nations,” my grandmother said, “we did much to smash it. We did much more to smash it than anyone else.”

De Valera said, “we are willing to accept the responsibilities… which inclusion into such a league implies,” but he found that “It simply meant an association to perpetuate power for those who had got it, and to keep forever in slavery those who had been kept in slavery by international rules, as they are called, but which were simply the rules of thieves were regulating their conduct among themselves.” Eamon DeValera, a Biography, Earl of Longford, and Thomas O’Neill, 1971.

What the Irish and the Irish Americans so strongly objected to was Article 10 of the League of Nations covenant; members undertook to preserve existing territorial boundaries of member nations, which meant Ireland’s wishes would have been ignored completely.”

“De Valera came here three times, fighting for Ireland’s freedom. He asked for recognition from the Congress to acknowledge the Irish Republic. Congress did nothing. He requested President Wilson to recognize Ireland’s demand for independence. Wilson turned a deaf ear. De Valera decided to come to the US and appeal directly to the people above the head of Wilson.“ She continued, “the league of nations would not accept Ireland’s proposal for independence.”

“When Dev came here in 1921 to sell the Irish bonds, we all bought them. We were too involved in fighting for Ireland to notice what was happening here during World War I. The Irish didn’t want to hurt the US but they were more worried about what was happening in Ireland.”

She continued her story, “The IRA was a well respected organization in those days. My brother, Joe Walsh (who was a police captain in the Richmond District), was able to pick up guns at pawnshops, and (my husband) Barney was able to get guns from the Benicia Armory with a judge’s signature, and there were plenty of Irish judges. The guns were shipped to New York in suitcases, and only one was ever confiscated.”

She continued, “Liam Mellows came out to see your grandfather before he was shot.” She said that Liam Mellows was later imprisoned, with others, who were considered political prisoners of war against Britain, and held without charge or trial, and then executed six months later. They became martyrs for the cause of an independent Ireland.

Con Kelleher, Liam Mellows, Bernard Reilly at DeLacy’s in Lagunitas, 1920.

My grandfather, Deputy Sheriff Bernard Reilly, was very active during this time as well. He, like my grandmother, Jenny, immigrated in his teens. He arrived in San Francisco in 1904 when he was only 16 years old. He was employed by the city as a postal workers and then became superintendent of County Jail number 1 in San Francisco and, later a guard at San Quentin penitentiary.

My grandparents were married later in life, an Irish tradition, in 1924. My grandmother saved and managed the money in the family. They lived in apartments in San Francisco when the babies began to arrive.

When the Depression struck they hardly even noticed it. Since my grandfather worked for the city, he was employed during the Depression. A rarity. Two days after my oldest aunt Jane was born, came the stock market crash. By then they had four children. Grandma said, “if you had money there was never any problem getting food.”

They had bought the Forest Knolls house one and a half years before the Depression, and were living in Marin County part time. My grandfather commuted into San Francisco on the Northwestern Pacific train, and then caught the Sausalito Mill Valley ferry to San Francisco, until 1935, when the train system was scrapped.

I asked my grandmother if they had a victory garden. She snorted said victory gardens were for city hicks. They did some gardening, but most of the produce was brought once a week from the veggie man from Novato, who peddled his wares from the back of a truck.

Milk and eggs and big wheels of jack cheese were gotten from a neighbor, Mary Bianchi. My uncle Bill, unfortunately got tuberculosis from their milk so the milk had to be boiled. My grandfather brought meat from San Francisco. He knew of a butcher friend there. (Also, porterhouse steaks were purloined from the city jail.) I think they ate better than we do now. My grandmother made most of the children’s clothing and bought overalls and shoes through Sears catalog. She told me we got “we got by. We never were rich.”

A cousin of mine (a first cousin, once removed), John Budgick was a carpenter, during the Depression, he was out of work. But he found work through the WPA and he designed and helped lay the cement road for Sir Francis Drake Highway that runs from San Quentin to the Point Reyes lighthouse. (There’s a section of road near Crystal Springs, now paved over, where he signed his name in the wet pavement.)

During the prohibition, John’s mother, Ellin Budjick, who was my grandfather’s sister, ran a speakeasy in her home on Hammer Street in San Francisco. (My grandmother’s, aunt May, and her husband Dan Forbes also made corn whiskey). But one day the revenuers came in and she grabbed the whiskey jug and put it between her and the baby as if she was taking a nap. They never thought to look there. Dan got rid of his corn mash by flushing it down the toilet (but the toilet backed up). And they were never caught selling or making liquor. (Clients included priests and policemen.)

A friend of my grandfather’s wrote from Tennessee:

“Hello old timer,… I’ve been looking around for a jug of good corn for you, and one for Mike since repeal, all bootleggers go to Kentucky and haul in the bonded stuff, and that makes corn, so cheap, it don’t pay to make it good, but I may run into some private stock. If I do, look out for a brainstorm… Well, old friend, as this is the first I have written since I last saw you, I’m getting writer’s cramp, so will close for this time…

As ever, your friend, Earl Stanfield
Chattanooga, May 24, undated

When World War II came along, our family wasn’t really affected by it. My uncles, Bill and Miles joined the Navy, the others were too young. Bill got tuberculosis and Miles got cancer, so both were discharged from the Navy. When I was born in 1952, we were all living together in San Francisco, as my grandparents had moved back in 1935 for his work.

I lived with my grandparents and their family. Of my aunt and uncles, only the aunts remained at home. Two of my uncles were married and my uncle John was in the army. I remember him coming home from Korea.

Feilim, my grandmother‘s favorite, had died when he was 17 of a ruptured appendix so there were at least eight or nine of us living in a nuclear household. There was plenty of room for all of us in the three-story Victorian at 333 Third Avenue. I was born the first grandchild of the family, so I received lots of attention.

When I was four, my grandfather died of esophageal cancer, and my grandmother and I moved back to Forest Knolls. I was on loan to keep my grandmother company, or busy, for a while, so she wouldn’t get so lonely after my grandfather‘s death. The “while” has now been 19 years since I began living with my grandmother. My parents got divorced soon after my grandfather‘s death and I stayed with her until things got settled. They never did.

I grew up here and went to Lagunitas School, Drake High School, College of Marin, then San Francisco State, and Sonoma State colleges.

Ever since I can remember, at a subconscious level of thought, I always felt a vague antagonism and hostility from my WASP classmates, and I never understood why. I couldn’t explain it, I could only feel it. My Catholic classmates must’ve felt it too, because we all bonded together in a clique during grade school and maintained those bonds in high school.

Now in college, I’m beginning to understand why we, as kids, felt this nonverbal antagonism. I’ve discovered America has a K in it, and a long-standing love affair with anything British, since the colonial days, and our entire culture is so overlaid with millions of subtle digs and hatred of anyone not WASP.

I am Irish, and I was raised to be proud of my heritage. I am Irish first, American second, and I struggle to maintain my Irish identity in this WASPish sheet of ambiguity.

When writing this paper, I found that a lot is written about Irish Americans, and how they were viewed in the eyes of their Anglo-American neighbors, but not much is written, explaining why they were clannish, rebellious, etc. We must look at Ireland’s history from an Irish point of view, and then turn our eyes inward, and understand Irish Americanism for what it really is, not what it seems to be from the outside.

My grandmother said, “the Irish here banded together to protect themselves. The Knights of Labor, the unions were created to protect the little guy. Sure, there were your so-called undesirable Irish, there were undesirables from every immigrating group. The stigma of the drunken Irishman was both permanent, perpetuated and encouraged by the canal and railroad bosses. They should’ve paid the Irish laborers more money instead of giving them a pint and a half of whiskey a day, and a $.50 wages. My God, they never saw that much whiskey at once back home. No wonder they were drunk and rebellious and the conditions they worked in were deplorable. No wonder they drank.”

NOTE BENE: Of all the books listed in my bibliography only somewhere helpful. William Shannon‘s book was and I quote Thomas Brown… “A brilliant book that for the first time lifts the story above the level of regret and recrimination, and makes it important to cultural history.” Both Thomas Brown and Carl Wittke’s books were too limited, dealing only with the second half of the 19th century.

We, that is, my family, read all of them, and we found the two authors to be the worst offenders of WASP whitewashing. In the future, I would recommend William Shannon‘s book, The American Irish, for anyone doing an Irish family history project, his was the most inclusive, and the least bigoted book.

Some of the above mentioned authors actually seemed to gloat over the American Irish “loser” virtues. Every group of people has its vices, and I think it is important to understand why they were corrupt, to amend and compare that to their downfall with other ethnic group subjected to the same conditions and see the similarities between them.

But most of all, it is important to see how they contributed to our society and how we benefited from their labors. I’m a little sensitive when someone, however indirectly, points of finger at me says, oh you, Irish accusingly.

And in answer to Carl Wittke’s closing paragraph in The Irish in America… The Irish question has faded into the background… No anglophobia among today’s Irish Americans… “

I beg to differ. No, we have not been assimilated into the mainstream of America, the WASP culture. The Irish question has not faded into the background and nor is it likely to as long as Britain still insists upon keeping and controlling Ulster. As the song goes:

I have four green fields
one of thhem’s in bondage.
My fourth green field 

will bloom once again
said she.

Four Green Fields, Irish Songbook collected by the Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem 1965

Liam Mellows in Lagunitas ca. 1920.

Addendum: a friend of my grandfather’s, Liam Mellows bravely fought for Irish independence. In 1913 he organized Fianna Éireann, whose goals were “to reestablish the independence of Ireland.” Before he was executed by the agents of the British Crown, he said, “I have no regrets, for the future of Ireland is assured… We died… For the cause of human liberty.” He was shot on December 1922. 

another martyr for old Ireland,
another murder for the crown,
the British laws may crush the Irish,
but cannot keep their spirit down.

—from the song, Kevin Barry
The Wolfe Tone Annual, 1939 Brian O’Higgins; Colm O Laughlin, Three Candles Press, Dublin.

Addendum: While Ireland was fighting for freedom, the Indians were also fighting for their independence to get out from under British rule. My grandfather Bernard met Indians in San Francisco who were trying to garner support for their cause. They were classified as a white race, and granted US citizenship. But when they started to fight for their independence, the US canceled and denied those citizenship.

Jian Singh Dhandah was one of those men. When you’re not a citizen and are denied citizenship because of your race, you can’t buy land, or vote, among other things. My grandfather took the responsibility of signing for land when Jian saying wanted to buy land. In return, Jian sent our family care packages every Christmas as repayment for our sponsorship.

Addendum: During 1916, a Labor Day parade turned into a mass riot in San Francisco against US involvement during World War I. Among the multitudes was longshoreman, Thomas Mooney, a member of the IWW. A bomb was thrown, and people were killed, because he was head of the IWW in San Francisco, they needed a scapegoat, and he was framed for the incident with false evidence. This is one of several letters from Tom to my grandfather, who was superintendent County Jail number 1 in San Francisco.

The IWW wanted the Irish organizations to join their cause, but the Irish had one goal in mind, and that was to free Ireland. The Irish Americans didn’t want to dilute their power with conflicting interests. Besides, the IWW was very socialistic, and the Irish groups felt the affiliation with the IWW would harm their cause.

note bene: I got a B+ from Dennis Harris—for a few small typos—after he inadvertently dropped me from his class. We did not see eye to eye. He used folksongs to explore American history which was right up my alley, but I found some of his interpretations off, and probably said so in class…out loud.

He said, “An obliviously passionate account, one of which is little pretense of objectivity. but nonetheless, fascinating, well written, and informative. You could’ve done more by working with, rather than rejecting your sources so that you could integrate your family’s experience into the general history. But, well done. B+.

information in parentheses was added later after I scanned this paper. I made a few small changes to correct floppy verbs and adverbs and cleaned up punctuation. And, of course, being able to add links to the texts used was a delight. MH 

Bibliography.

The Irish in the US, John Duff, 1971

The American, Irish and their influence on Irish politics, Philip Bagenal, Kegan Paul, 1882

The Irish in America, Carl Wittke, 1956

Irish American nationalism, Thomas Brown, 1966 

Irish immigration in the United States, Jeremiah O’Donovan, 1969, first published 1864

The Irish songbook piled by Joy, Graeme, 1969 

Eamon de Valera, a biography, Earl of Longford, and Thomas O’Neill, 1971

The American, Irish, William, Shannon, 1963.

Generations, Jim Watt and Allan Davies, 1974.

The shaping of the American, V. 2, Robert Kelly, 1975

Wolfe Tone annual, 1939, 1962, Brian O’Higgins

Irish Street ballads, Colm O’Laughlin, 1937 

My grandmother was also a valuable reference, book or an inventory, made in Ireland 1893

Poem fragments found in my Native American Studies journal with Mary Taylor, 1975, SSU

SONG OF A MAN WAITING TO BE HUNG

The thunder will take me home
whenever I mind to go home. 

My friend.

And the wind—

it will take me home too.

I am walking 

toward calm and shady places. 

I am walking 

on the earth.

The sound is fading away.

It is a five sounds.

    Freedom. 

The sound is fading away.

It is of five sounds. 

9/4/1975

My feathers 

sailing 

on the breeze. 

9/7/1975

CALIFORNIA SEED BEARER

My dandelion seeds

drift 

on the breeze.

9/7/1975

OBIJWAY CURSE

The first to come 

epithet among the birds 

bringing the rain.

Crow is my name.

9/1975

BAY  LAUREL

Pungent scent to come 

sweeping through the trees 

brought the breeze.

Bay laurel is my name. 

9/1975

THE FIRST TO COME

Sunlight     is my name.

9/1975

CHIPPEWA DREAM SONG

In the sky 

I am walking

A bird I accompany.

In the spring 

I am a flower, 

a bee I accompany.

9/1975

PERSONAL SONG

Very much 

also, 

I, of the owl,

I am afraid

whenever I am sitting alone 

in the wigwam. 

The wind 

only 

I am afraid. 

10/2/1975

FAREWELL TO THE WARRIORS

Come, 

it is time for you to depart. 

We are going on a long journey.

10/2/1975

NIGHT SONG

In the dusk

I am floating 

a bat 

I accompany.

In the dark 

I am afraid 

an owl 

I accompany

In the night 

I am invisible 

a spirit 

I accompany.

Daybreak 

I am a sparrow 

dawn's light 

I cleave with my wings.

10/1975

SEDNA

(whose fingers became seals, whales & otters)

In the sea 

I am in otter,         a seal

Sedna I accompany.

Across the fields           in the dark,

fleeting                          I am dying, 

the great wapiti             a raven 

I ride.                            I accompany.

In the hills 

I ride a dark horse 

the wind 

I follow.

10/1975

Mary asked: How old are you? Talk about your old life. I wrote:

I have passed through many days and traveled the long way, the shadows have fallen all about me and I can see but dimly. But my mind is clear, and my memory has not failed me. I cannot count the years I have lived. All that I know about my age is that I was old enough to draw the bow and kill squirrels at the time of the second migration of the Creek, and the Cherokee people from the old country under the leadership of Chief Cooweescowee. I was born near Eufala, Alabama, on the Chattahoochee River, and then left there when I was about 15 years of age. The trip took about a year for the peaches were green when we left Alabama. And the wild onions were plentiful when we arrived.    —From Trail of Tears

10/1975. (I don't know if this is my work or a paraphrase).

GUARDIAN SPIRIT SONG 

(from the Nez Perce)

Ravening coyote comes, 

    red hands, 

    red mouth, 

necklace of eyes.

10/1975

Kroeber Hall, Berkeley 1 PM. Not six feet away from me sits a bluejay, all puffed up, making soft chirping noises. Right below him, a towhee is pecking seeds and grain on the ground. Neither wants to fly. The palm trees are swaying, and great gusts of wind shake the bushes. A drop of rain upon my face. The towhee spreads and fans his tail feathers and the bluejay puffs his downy vest. They are waiting for the storm to pass. Two red squirrels seek shelter. The bluejay also rearranges his feathers. They know I am watching them but they are unwilling to leave their bush. The air is heavy, the barometer is dropping. The birds find it difficult to fly. Bluejay is nervous and he keeps making soft chirping sounds to himself. For once, the policeman of the woods is quiet. Someone walked right by him and he didn't even utter a sound.

First winter rain storm comes, 

    gray sky, 

    gray wind, 

clouds made of mist,

raindrops made of tears. 

Noisy bluejay sits huddled,

    blue feathers puffed up

    black beak silent calm

Quiet now, the storm approaches,

comes down in torrents. 

The winds howl and whistle through the trees,

broken branches on the country lane

strewn with autumn leaves.

10/9/1975

Black bear, 

    you lied!

(in the death song of the Sioux, the bear is supposed to help in death.)

10/1975

A wolf, 

I considered myself,

 but the owls are singing 

and the night I fear.

10/16/1975

You are walking around 

trying to remember 

what you promised us

but now you can't remember.

Oyez. Now I remember 

there was light to fill the nightmare, 

to protect you from the the dark. 

But the moon was kidnapped 

by the bog creatures. 

And now I can't remember 

what they did with the moon 

when they stole it from the sky. 

So I am walking around 

trying to remember.

Protect from my uneasy feelings, 

    Life

help me to overcome my sorrow, 

                my death.

Fear, strength

help me to overcome my anxiety, 

to vanquish the enemy, fear 

Love, give me the strength 

to overpower it 

and returned to you safe again.

Death you are black 

and you overlook no one.

I dreamt you had returned 

to find me here alone 

waiting for you.

10/16/1975

A red maple leaf I am 

but the frosts came early

that chill in the air 

slows my sap 

and the winds rage and howl, 

my stems weaken 

my companions, 

torn free from their maker.

 I feel the windbag at me 

and my grip weakened, 

marks the deep dread 

the full fury of winter ahead.

10/16/1975

Have you ever ridden

upon the wings 

of morning? 

10/1975

Sand, an eternity of waves 

crashing, constantly on the shore 

nibbling away continents. 

A ceaseless hunger,

grain by grain.

10/1975

Mary asked how old are you, write an autobiography. 

When I was young the days were incredibly long, weeks, I knew not of, nor the months. Not even the years. I remember sitting up on my grandfather's knee and blowing out matches for him. In my fourth year, he said he was going to heaven and I never saw him again. My grandmother and I moved to the country where I ran free. 

I was sent to  kindergarten but I didn't like it, so I dropped out of school at the age of 4 1/2. I thought the world was flat and I was afraid to wander too far from home. I remember feeling the summer heat up on my body and life is good. But then I had to go to school and I spent 12 years not learning much of anything. What I did outside of school was infinitely more interesting than school. 

I used to hike the hills and spend hours riding horseback in quiet solitude. Been extremely shy I related more to nature—which did not condemn or reject the person. It took me many years to overcome that shyness and all those communal moments I shared with nature are infinite treasures which will never depart for me. 

Now and then, when life becomes too stressful, getting away from it all and re-experiencing that solitude of peace, nature can bring, clears my head and once again I can cope with the world.

10/1975

Mary said our mimeographed chapbooks, due Dec 11, needed to include an introduction, preface, a creation myth, a legend, a special occasion, a love song, a death song, a dream song, a joy song, autobiography, miscellaneous visions, and a song of hope. My journal was filled with photo drawings which I redid for the book. Wish I had a copy.

GRANDMOTHER

Two days on the road, I knew she wouldn't be there at the door to greet us. I was not surprised to hear that on the day, that exact hour we left home, she had suffered a pain in her chest that evening and the pain shot down her arm. Her heart was weakened. Small and frail in the big white hospital bed, she waved to us through the observation window. I am not allowed to see her. Her grandson visits a few moments with her alone. The doctors say that she will be fine, and out the hospital in three weeks but we both fear that this is the last homage we will pay to her—for we fear her time is come.

It was a last homage to the grandmother. We both knew we had to visit the grandmother soon. The family said she was well and fine. Yet we felt the tug of premonition and up death to come. Her time on earth was trying to close. I draw a black stallion, with white wings, turning into a man.

10/1975

CHEROKEE WAR SONGS

The song of the butterfly 

in the coming heat 

of the day 

Arrow song, 

scarlet 

is its head.

I stood there 

on the banks of the stream.

Across the river they speak of me 

as a being.

Some of the buffalo 

Strike ye

our land 

with your curved horns.

The song of the night owl

Morning has broken, 

wait, not fearing the light of the sun, 

dawn's light.

The history of the world is written in blood. 

We are all from the same tribe of man.

11/1975

SONG OF THE HORSE

Lash out in the air 

with flinty hooves, 

hammer out sparks 

of red in the dusk. 

Do not fear the wolves 

my brave young colt. 

Fight him with your hooves 

and he will flee.

11/1975

ETERNITY OF SAND

The waves are breaking constantly at your sure, 

nibbling ceaselessly away at your continents, 

grain by tiny grain, moving the sand.

11/1975

Have you ever ridden upon the wings of morning? 

Have you ever felt the kiss from the first rays of the sun? 

Or have you ever walked your lovely white feet 

over the grass covered with morning dew? 

Come with me and share the birth of morning.

11/1975

Oh peregrine falcon, swiftest of birds, 

most beautiful in flight, your numbers have dwindled, 

your old haunts have all but disappeared. 

Poetry in flight. But Man has finally clicked your wings 

like he has before to countless other species. 

How will our future children know you 

when you were gone?

11/1975

The grass game. 

He ho, thigh bone. 

Knuckle bone.

Hey no nana 

Na na na no.

11/1975

I love you, my little one 

with rosy cheeks 

and long black hair. 

Oh, little one I love you. 

Return to me safe 

so that I may hold you 

in my arms once again.

11/1975

LULLABYE

It's 2:30 AM, I can't sleep. 

Lullaby, lullaby send me a dream. 

Lullaby disconnect my mind. 

Lullaby it's 2:30 AM, I can't sleep.

Lullaby, lullaby me to sleep.

11/1975

HARVEST

Send me your dreams 

and I'll reap you a song.

11/1975

My spirit dwells within me. 

My spirit is the well, 

black and white,

it wells up within me.

11/1975

MISS HOPI

Miss Hopi, Miss Indian America, 

in Scottsdale Arizona. Horse shows 

Lucille Mano, that's no way 

to be judged of your worth 

like an Arabian showhorse 

by biased cowboys and judges 

in dusty grandstands.

They're not the ones who care 

who is really beautiful.

12/2/1975

These fragments date back to a time from before I was a writer. I only cleaned up the exceptionally awkward gleanings when grammar was at war in a collision course with itself. These poems are resurrected from my class notes, they are not the final poems typed up in a chapbook, of which I have no copy. 

The poems were modeled after North American Native writers we were reading (so I don't know how much is copycat work), in a Native American creative writing class I took at Sonoma State, with Mary Taylor, who was Coast Miwok. 

I think Mary was a Bodega Bay Smith of the Captain Stephen Smith infamy—who at 57, married a 16-year old Peruvian, Manuela Torres in order to obtain the Rancho Bodega land grant, but Smith also had a Coast Miwok "wife," Tsupu.

Their son, Bill Smith, had 12 children with Rosalie Charles after his first Miwok wife Walla Walla died. The Smith clan was a massive mob whom I would later be related to by marriage, when Bill Smith's son, Young Eagle Smith, married my Aunt Mary Azalie Howard Reilly (her dead husband Myles was my uncle) at St. Eugene's Church. 

I remember talking to Mary, who must have been Young's sister, at the wedding reception in Santa Rosa. There was quite a local Pomo and Coast Miwok line up on the left side of the church. Not only were all of Bill Smith's surviving children and families in attendance, but also famous Kashaya Pomo shamam-healer and basketmaker Essie Parrish, and Lake County Long Valley Cache Creek  Pomo and Patwin basketmaker, Mabel McKay. That relationship ended when Young, an inveterate gambler, gambled away the title to Mary Azalie's home in Santa Rosa.

I first met Essie and Mabel (through MaryTaylor) during the Dry Creek dam protest demonstrations, where we moved hundreds of rare sedge plants from an ancestral Pomo village site to safety as the massive bulldozers constructed the Warm Springs dam for what was to become Lake Sonoma.

The construction of this lake destroyed 122 areas associated with the history of human use. This included ten house-pits, five hunting blinds, two chert quarries, and eleven locations with petroglyphs. In addition, there were eight known gathering spaces where, for more than a hundred years, special plants were collected by Pomo people for traditional use.[4] Some Pomo people resisted the creation of the lake, assisting Archaeologists at Sonoma State University in writing about the prehistory and history of Warm Springs Dam, Lake Sonoma, and the Dry Creek Valley. —Wiki

Mary and her ex-husband Tom Taylor bought the derelict Potter Schoolhouse in Bodega in 1966 for $10,500. Alfred Hitchcock rented it for The Birds in 1961. The place sat empty until 1966 when Mary and Tom rescued the haunted schoolhouse from demolition, after extensive renovation, they moved in and turned one classroom into the Bodega Bay Art Gallery (Rancho Bodega Historical Society.) 

I must've visited Mary there. We were invited to a Bodega Bay watercolor exhibit at the gallery on 12/5. I remember that the dive Casino Bar & Grill next door had the best burgers in West County. 

I had to turn in a manuscript for our final project—which I never got back. I have notes for the chapbook to include a preface and introduction addressing cultural and environmental themes and historic background. Write an intro to your creation myth for Thursday. Write poems a theater, as marriage, of love, TVs, of death. Don't look back. Poetry is prayer, she said.

I probably recycled some of the writing in David Bromige's poetry workshop in 1978. These little fragments are all that survive. And of course, this patchwork memory. —MH 12/14/2023

Postcard from Mount Rainier

July 5, 1975, Washington.

Dear Grandma, 

After we went to Victoria, we got bad weather and rain so it spoiled our stay. We took the Gulf Island cruise but didn’t stay long. We went to Salt Spring Island and Galliano Island. A tiny three-car ferry. It sure was miserable being there in the rain, so we went over to Vancouver and to Horseshoe Bay. 

Couldn’t see a thing because of the weather, so we decided to come back to the US. Then the good weather struck on the day we were about to leave. So we decided to stay a while longer and revisited the Horseshoe Bay area. Well worth the bother. It was stunningly beautiful. But the logging industry has ruined much of British Columbia. The air is absolutely foul from the paper pulp mills. Worse than LA smog.

We went up to Garibaldi Provincial Park North of Vancouver, but the only way in is by backpacking. Snow level was too low, so that was out. It had snowed a few days earlier down to 3000 feet, so the mountains were quite beautiful.

We took a ferry across Horseshoe Bay, thinking that the Sunshine Coast would also be as beautiful as Horseshoe Bay, but it was a disappointment. And there was no sunshine We were able to see so many of the sites we missed the last time. Capilano Gorge in North Vancouver was outrageous, an actual granite gorge in North Vancouver with a very bouncy rope suspension bridge. 

In Victoria, we ran into a bunch of people that we had met last year on Salt Spring Island it was a nice surprise. We ran out of things to do in Victoria so yesterday we headed back to the states and got through customs with four 12-pack cases of Labatt’s beer. The customs lady merely said “oh, go on through,” like we were a couple of kids. They usually make you pay duty on any alcohol in excess of 1 quart. We were fully expecting trouble through customs because the bus is a camper van, and they are usually thoroughly searched.

We drove straight through to Mount Rainier. There is so much snow here that one can’t really hike here either. Oh well. I found a warm spring on the slopes of Mount Rainier and soaked my feet from a small wooden bridge. June is not a good month to vacation in the Pacific Northwest. It’s nice now but another storm front is moving in from the coast. We will probably check out the Columbia River Gorge, and  the Trinity Alps, and then head back home in a couple of weeks or so.

Have you heard from Jane yet? I wrote to her in Ireland. I guess I’ll phone when I get back in California to find out when she is returning. Please, tell Borg of my travels as I haven’t sent a postcard. I haven’t yet sent Jane a postcard either. When the weather is so bad I didn’t feel like sending any cards to anyone. As it was, we had to stay in the van or camp out in a museum because of the dreadful rain.

Didn’t get any Dickson tea, but got another kind. I haven’t tried it yet. Barf-o-bits Bob has recovered from his sea voyage quite nicely. I think he just ate too much salmon as he won’t touch the stuff now. If you’re wondering why my writing is so messy I’m writing on top of Bob’s head. It’s the only level spot. 

Love, Baba

College of Marin graduation, AA Art

Jungfrau, Switzerland (drawing)

I worked in Wengen one summer as a waitress & hiked on my days off. My art was destroyed, except this. I also made pressed flower arrangements to ID later.

Article on the art murals at Drake Drake High School, Dec. 1969

I never realized that the art murals at Drake High School were cause for consternation. Liz Haas posted this article on Facebook, dated December, 12, 1969. The mural was in room 219, I think that was Mr. Lucy’s room, and the other mural was in the ceramic lab, on the third corridor. I knew them well. Blast from the past, to say the least. The farthest back I can publish anything is 1970. So it’s a year out of sequence.
Added 6/21/2020

Marin musical line up at Pepperland

Litchfield’s Bermuda Palms, 745 East Francisco Blvd, in San Rafael, was where we went to dance during the late 1960s, early 70s. It was not a particularly safe place for young teenage girls, as it was a pick-up joint already gone to seed, a rough underside of drugs and prostitution was background music. The motel was also a hangout for sailors—a mob during Fleet Week. Talk about culture clash. A milieu of redneck and hippie as it transitioned from Big Band era gone to seed to the reimagined world of rock and roll. My mom and aunts and uncles used to dance there. One time when I was there, there was a knifing, cops swarmed the place. One of my friends, Ruth Steele was exploring the some of the benefits of the fringe, while Sue Williams, Sue Barry and I looked on with Catholic distrust. Definitely Sin City. I wish I had kept some of the posters. But this one from Bill Graham Presents Facebook page, sums it up nicely.

The other venue where we danced was the Lion’s Share on the Miracle Mile in San Anselmo. I was a Clover fan, and loved to dance to Captain Beefheart, Sons of Chaplain, Grateful Dead and other bands were homegrown and we saw them often. But this September lineup at Pepperland is astounding in retrospective. Most of the musicians listed lived in Marin and the unspoken tradition was to headline with them. They got top billing. And later they really were top drawer! Wish I could find the summer lineup poster as I was there whenever I could afford to go, which wasn’t often as $3 was a lot of money in those days. Obviously I didn’t write this blog in 1970. Hindsight: 4/25/2022. Here’s hoping I can find some of those posters among my things. Poster is from Facebook’s Bill Graham Presents group managed by Christopher Bolei. 

From Facebook’s Marin History Museum: The Bermuda Palms, was “California’s Las Vegas”. In 1949, San Rafael developer Irving “Whitey” Litchfield built this motel and restaurant. For more than 20 years, the resort was boasted a colorful and musical venue in the Pepperland Ballroom (also known as the Euphoria) attracting Big Band giants like Count Basie and Duke Ellington, Blues singers Muddy Waters and Big Mama Thornton, and some of the biggest rock groups including the Grateful Dead, Janis Joplin, Frank Zappa, Steve Miller, Boz Scaggs, Leon Russell, Elvin Bishop, Linda Ronstadt, Pink Floyd, Chuck Berry, Sly and the Family Stone and Van Morrison. In addition, the Bermuda Palms was a favorite spot for celebrities and community gatherings during the 1950s and early 1960s. While filming “Blood Alley” at China Camp in 1954, Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall, John Wayne and Robert Mitchum were guests at the motel.”