Rebecca Hammann Writes Barack Obama

You have been telling people that this is the Eleventh Hour, now you
must go back and tell the people that this is the Hour. And there are
things to be considered…

Then he clasped his hands together, smiled, and said, “This could be a
good time! There is a river flowing now very fast. It is so great and
swift that there are those who will be afraid. They will try to hold on
to the shore. They will feel they are being torn apart and will suffer
greatly. Know the river has its destination. The elders say we must let
go of the shore, push off into the middle of the river, keep our eyes
open, and our heads above the water.

And I say, see who is in there with you and celebrate. At this time in
history, we are to take nothing personally, least of all ourselves. For
the moment that we do, our spiritual growth and journey come to a halt.

The time of the one wolf is over. Gather yourselves!
Banish the word ‘struggle’ from your attitude and your vocabulary. All
that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration.

We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.

— Prophecy, Hopi Elders, 1980

The hour for Hope is now, and there may not be a moment to lose. That, to me, is good news.

In a conversation with my brother Whitney a couple of days ago, he mentioned that the sister of one of his colleagues at the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra in New York City had written a letter to Barack Obama, and proceeded to read it to me. That woman’s name is Rebecca Hammann, a beloved middle-school science teacher in Fairfield, California. Rebecca is apparently the greatest and most inspiring kind of teacher and has a heart of huge, even legendary, proportions. Yet the clear love of her life and very heart of the heart of her passion is her 2 1/2 year-old adoptive daughter, Lucy.

Just months ago, Rebecca received a conclusive diagnosis of terminal cancer, and learned that she does not have long to live. When the days of one so alive are all at once so shortly numbered, and yet heart still bursts with a sacred love that knows no bounds, what is she to do? Rebecca Hammann sat down in November to write a letter to Barack Obama. I immediately felt to share her letter with you, and the President’s response. We are all in this together, and even having wandered together for so long through the valley of shadows, I feel hope dawning. Here and now.

Dear President-Elect Obama,

For the last year or so I have felt as if the world was falling apart. Our system is based on buying more than we need, more cheaply than the true costs. We believe that we deserve comfort and ease and material things that our Earth cannot afford to give us. That is why I hoped so much that you would be elected. You bring hope and true leadership to this country and this world. There is a chance, now, for my two-year-old daughter to live in a world of beauty and love instead of the chaos and greed I had begun to imagine for her.

She is a glorious child, full of life and love and humor and she alone is worth changing the world for. You must not falter. I know in my head that there are millions of children to protect; even adults who have created this mess are worthy. But I must ask you for her in particular. The day after your election I learned that I do not have much time. A seven-year-old cancer has spread to my lungs and brain and will prevent me from taking part in the changes that must occur. So I am begging you to lead this world with all your heart and mind, to not take the easy path and to never let the rest of us take it either. This is a lot to ask of you, I know. Our entire paradigm must shift. Our decisions have been based on material possessions and comforts. Even mine. I just decided a few weeks ago to try to live without my own car. I realized that I must be part of the solution now before it is too late. But my tiny realization must be magnified a million times if it is to save our beautiful Earth. Our lives must change. We simply cannot sustain what we are currently doing.

My hope is that you are honest and courageous enough to lead us in the direction we must go. You have two beautiful daughters yourself. You know there isn’t a moment to lose.
But your task is daunting. It is not something you can do alone. You will need to convince the people of this country and in this world that they need to and can change. If anyone can do this, it is you. In a culture of lies and convenience and ease, you have the ability to say the truth clearly and, I hope, the people of this country have the willingness to hear your words.
The changes we must make will require almost overwhelming amounts of courage and hope-and that is what you inspire in us.

My darling Lucy can do without most of what we have grown accustomed to-the material possessions and the comforts. But she needs a healthy Earth and a thoughtful self-sacrificing humankind willing to act for our future generations no matter how difficult.
Please, from the bottom of my heart, don’t give up this fight. If you could meet my daughter Lucy, you would know why you cannot. And there are millions of Lucys in this world.

Sincerely,
Rebecca Hammann

Obama’s reply:

Dear Rebecca,

Thank you for the letter that you wrote to me on behalf of your daughter. I was moved by your sense of hope and purpose.
You described what makes Lucy unique and glorious, and then ended by saying that “there are millions of Lucys in this world.” I was struck by the seeming contradiction, but of course it’s true – we all know that there are hundreds of millions of children, and yet each is unique.
Just like you, I try every day to build a better world for my daughters, and to make sure they are ready to enjoy it – that their personalities are shaped by love, knowledge, compassion, a sense of honor, and the free spirit that my mother always nurtured in me. While I can’t imagine the anguish you feel knowing that Lucy will grow up without you, I am profoundly honored to be part of the hope that buoys you today.
You are right to be hopeful, because our children face a future of limitless possibility. We know that a sustainable way of life is essential to our children and grandchildren. But beyond that, the quest for sustainability that you described with such eloquence and passion is integral as well, because it is a powerful unifier, motivating peoples and nations to act in concert so that all may benefit.
I have every confidence that your daughter will grow up to be a part of this, living out the principles that have motivated you and which will live on within her. My heart tells me Lucy will play a part in creating the change you and I seek. My faith tells me that you will be smiling down on us the whole time.

Sincerely,
Barack Obama

God bless Rebecca, and Lucy. God Bless our President and his family. Let us tend to that small flicker of Hope that remains alive, in ourselves and in one another, tenderly and with the greatest vigilance. We might all be surprised.

Rebecca Hammann Writes Barack Obama

You have been telling people that this is the Eleventh Hour, now you
must go back and tell the people that this is the Hour. And there are
things to be considered…

Then he clasped his hands together, smiled, and said, “This could be a
good time! There is a river flowing now very fast. It is so great and
swift that there are those who will be afraid. They will try to hold on
to the shore. They will feel they are being torn apart and will suffer
greatly. Know the river has its destination. The elders say we must let
go of the shore, push off into the middle of the river, keep our eyes
open, and our heads above the water.

And I say, see who is in there with you and celebrate. At this time in
history, we are to take nothing personally, least of all ourselves. For
the moment that we do, our spiritual growth and journey come to a halt.

The time of the one wolf is over. Gather yourselves!
Banish the word ‘struggle’ from your attitude and your vocabulary. All
that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration.

We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.

— Prophecy, Hopi Elders, 1980

The hour for Hope is now, and there may not be a moment to lose. That, to me, is good news.

In a conversation with my brother Whitney a couple of days ago, he mentioned that the sister of one of his colleagues at the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra in New York City had written a letter to Barack Obama, and proceeded to read it to me. That woman’s name is Rebecca Hammann, a beloved middle-school science teacher in Fairfield, California. Rebecca is apparently the greatest and most inspiring kind of teacher and has a heart of huge, even legendary, proportions. Yet the clear love of her life and very heart of the heart of her passion is her 2 1/2 year-old adoptive daughter, Lucy.

Just months ago, Rebecca received a conclusive diagnosis of terminal cancer, and learned that she does not have long to live. When the days of one so alive are all at once so shortly numbered, and yet heart still bursts with a sacred love that knows no bounds, what is she to do? Rebecca Hammann sat down in November to write a letter to Barack Obama. I immediately felt to share her letter with you, and the President’s response. We are all in this together, and even having wandered together for so long through the valley of shadows, I feel hope dawning. Here and now.

Dear President-Elect Obama,

For the last year or so I have felt as if the world was falling apart. Our system is based on buying more than we need, more cheaply than the true costs. We believe that we deserve comfort and ease and material things that our Earth cannot afford to give us. That is why I hoped so much that you would be elected. You bring hope and true leadership to this country and this world. There is a chance, now, for my two-year-old daughter to live in a world of beauty and love instead of the chaos and greed I had begun to imagine for her.

She is a glorious child, full of life and love and humor and she alone is worth changing the world for. You must not falter. I know in my head that there are millions of children to protect; even adults who have created this mess are worthy. But I must ask you for her in particular. The day after your election I learned that I do not have much time. A seven-year-old cancer has spread to my lungs and brain and will prevent me from taking part in the changes that must occur. So I am begging you to lead this world with all your heart and mind, to not take the easy path and to never let the rest of us take it either. This is a lot to ask of you, I know. Our entire paradigm must shift. Our decisions have been based on material possessions and comforts. Even mine. I just decided a few weeks ago to try to live without my own car. I realized that I must be part of the solution now before it is too late. But my tiny realization must be magnified a million times if it is to save our beautiful Earth. Our lives must change. We simply cannot sustain what we are currently doing.

My hope is that you are honest and courageous enough to lead us in the direction we must go. You have two beautiful daughters yourself. You know there isn’t a moment to lose.
But your task is daunting. It is not something you can do alone. You will need to convince the people of this country and in this world that they need to and can change. If anyone can do this, it is you. In a culture of lies and convenience and ease, you have the ability to say the truth clearly and, I hope, the people of this country have the willingness to hear your words.
The changes we must make will require almost overwhelming amounts of courage and hope-and that is what you inspire in us.

My darling Lucy can do without most of what we have grown accustomed to-the material possessions and the comforts. But she needs a healthy Earth and a thoughtful self-sacrificing humankind willing to act for our future generations no matter how difficult.
Please, from the bottom of my heart, don’t give up this fight. If you could meet my daughter Lucy, you would know why you cannot. And there are millions of Lucys in this world.

Sincerely,
Rebecca Hammann

Obama’s reply:

Dear Rebecca,

Thank you for the letter that you wrote to me on behalf of your daughter. I was moved by your sense of hope and purpose.
You described what makes Lucy unique and glorious, and then ended by saying that “there are millions of Lucys in this world.” I was struck by the seeming contradiction, but of course it’s true – we all know that there are hundreds of millions of children, and yet each is unique.
Just like you, I try every day to build a better world for my daughters, and to make sure they are ready to enjoy it – that their personalities are shaped by love, knowledge, compassion, a sense of honor, and the free spirit that my mother always nurtured in me. While I can’t imagine the anguish you feel knowing that Lucy will grow up without you, I am profoundly honored to be part of the hope that buoys you today.
You are right to be hopeful, because our children face a future of limitless possibility. We know that a sustainable way of life is essential to our children and grandchildren. But beyond that, the quest for sustainability that you described with such eloquence and passion is integral as well, because it is a powerful unifier, motivating peoples and nations to act in concert so that all may benefit.
I have every confidence that your daughter will grow up to be a part of this, living out the principles that have motivated you and which will live on within her. My heart tells me Lucy will play a part in creating the change you and I seek. My faith tells me that you will be smiling down on us the whole time.

Sincerely,
Barack Obama

God bless Rebecca, and Lucy. God Bless our President and his family. Let us tend to that small flicker of Hope that remains alive, in ourselves and in one another, tenderly and with the greatest vigilance. We might all be surprised.

Rebecca Hammann Writes Barack Obama

You have been telling people that this is the Eleventh Hour, now you
must go back and tell the people that this is the Hour. And there are
things to be considered…

Then he clasped his hands together, smiled, and said, “This could be a
good time! There is a river flowing now very fast. It is so great and
swift that there are those who will be afraid. They will try to hold on
to the shore. They will feel they are being torn apart and will suffer
greatly. Know the river has its destination. The elders say we must let
go of the shore, push off into the middle of the river, keep our eyes
open, and our heads above the water.

And I say, see who is in there with you and celebrate. At this time in
history, we are to take nothing personally, least of all ourselves. For
the moment that we do, our spiritual growth and journey come to a halt.

The time of the one wolf is over. Gather yourselves!
Banish the word ‘struggle’ from your attitude and your vocabulary. All
that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration.

We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.

— Prophecy, Hopi Elders, 1980

The hour for Hope is now, and there may not be a moment to lose. That, to me, is good news.

In a conversation with my brother Whitney a couple of days ago, he mentioned that the sister of one of his colleagues at the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra in New York City had written a letter to Barack Obama, and proceeded to read it to me. That woman’s name is Rebecca Hammann, a beloved middle-school science teacher in Fairfield, California. Rebecca is apparently the greatest and most inspiring kind of teacher and has a heart of huge, even legendary, proportions. Yet the clear love of her life and very heart of the heart of her passion is her 2 1/2 year-old adoptive daughter, Lucy.

Just months ago, Rebecca received a conclusive diagnosis of terminal cancer, and learned that she does not have long to live. When the days of one so alive are all at once so shortly numbered, and yet heart still bursts with a sacred love that knows no bounds, what is she to do? Rebecca Hammann sat down in November to write a letter to Barack Obama. I immediately felt to share her letter with you, and the President’s response. We are all in this together, and even having wandered together for so long through the valley of shadows, I feel hope dawning. Here and now.

Dear President-Elect Obama,

For the last year or so I have felt as if the world was falling apart. Our system is based on buying more than we need, more cheaply than the true costs. We believe that we deserve comfort and ease and material things that our Earth cannot afford to give us. That is why I hoped so much that you would be elected. You bring hope and true leadership to this country and this world. There is a chance, now, for my two-year-old daughter to live in a world of beauty and love instead of the chaos and greed I had begun to imagine for her.

She is a glorious child, full of life and love and humor and she alone is worth changing the world for. You must not falter. I know in my head that there are millions of children to protect; even adults who have created this mess are worthy. But I must ask you for her in particular. The day after your election I learned that I do not have much time. A seven-year-old cancer has spread to my lungs and brain and will prevent me from taking part in the changes that must occur. So I am begging you to lead this world with all your heart and mind, to not take the easy path and to never let the rest of us take it either. This is a lot to ask of you, I know. Our entire paradigm must shift. Our decisions have been based on material possessions and comforts. Even mine. I just decided a few weeks ago to try to live without my own car. I realized that I must be part of the solution now before it is too late. But my tiny realization must be magnified a million times if it is to save our beautiful Earth. Our lives must change. We simply cannot sustain what we are currently doing.

My hope is that you are honest and courageous enough to lead us in the direction we must go. You have two beautiful daughters yourself. You know there isn’t a moment to lose.
But your task is daunting. It is not something you can do alone. You will need to convince the people of this country and in this world that they need to and can change. If anyone can do this, it is you. In a culture of lies and convenience and ease, you have the ability to say the truth clearly and, I hope, the people of this country have the willingness to hear your words.
The changes we must make will require almost overwhelming amounts of courage and hope-and that is what you inspire in us.

My darling Lucy can do without most of what we have grown accustomed to-the material possessions and the comforts. But she needs a healthy Earth and a thoughtful self-sacrificing humankind willing to act for our future generations no matter how difficult.
Please, from the bottom of my heart, don’t give up this fight. If you could meet my daughter Lucy, you would know why you cannot. And there are millions of Lucys in this world.

Sincerely,
Rebecca Hammann

Obama’s reply:

Dear Rebecca,

Thank you for the letter that you wrote to me on behalf of your daughter. I was moved by your sense of hope and purpose.
You described what makes Lucy unique and glorious, and then ended by saying that “there are millions of Lucys in this world.” I was struck by the seeming contradiction, but of course it’s true – we all know that there are hundreds of millions of children, and yet each is unique.
Just like you, I try every day to build a better world for my daughters, and to make sure they are ready to enjoy it – that their personalities are shaped by love, knowledge, compassion, a sense of honor, and the free spirit that my mother always nurtured in me. While I can’t imagine the anguish you feel knowing that Lucy will grow up without you, I am profoundly honored to be part of the hope that buoys you today.
You are right to be hopeful, because our children face a future of limitless possibility. We know that a sustainable way of life is essential to our children and grandchildren. But beyond that, the quest for sustainability that you described with such eloquence and passion is integral as well, because it is a powerful unifier, motivating peoples and nations to act in concert so that all may benefit.
I have every confidence that your daughter will grow up to be a part of this, living out the principles that have motivated you and which will live on within her. My heart tells me Lucy will play a part in creating the change you and I seek. My faith tells me that you will be smiling down on us the whole time.

Sincerely,
Barack Obama

God bless Rebecca, and Lucy. God Bless our President and his family. Let us tend to that small flicker of Hope that remains alive, in ourselves and in one another, tenderly and with the greatest vigilance. We might all be surprised.

Rebecca Hammann Writes Barack Obama

You have been telling people that this is the Eleventh Hour, now you
must go back and tell the people that this is the Hour. And there are
things to be considered…

Then he clasped his hands together, smiled, and said, “This could be a
good time! There is a river flowing now very fast. It is so great and
swift that there are those who will be afraid. They will try to hold on
to the shore. They will feel they are being torn apart and will suffer
greatly. Know the river has its destination. The elders say we must let
go of the shore, push off into the middle of the river, keep our eyes
open, and our heads above the water.

And I say, see who is in there with you and celebrate. At this time in
history, we are to take nothing personally, least of all ourselves. For
the moment that we do, our spiritual growth and journey come to a halt.

The time of the one wolf is over. Gather yourselves!
Banish the word ‘struggle’ from your attitude and your vocabulary. All
that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration.

We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.

— Prophecy, Hopi Elders, 1980

The hour for Hope is now, and there may not be a moment to lose. That, to me, is good news.

In a conversation with my brother Whitney a couple of days ago, he mentioned that the sister of one of his colleagues at the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra in New York City had written a letter to Barack Obama, and proceeded to read it to me. That woman’s name is Rebecca Hammann, a beloved middle-school science teacher in Fairfield, California. Rebecca is apparently the greatest and most inspiring kind of teacher and has a heart of huge, even legendary, proportions. Yet the clear love of her life and very heart of the heart of her passion is her 2 1/2 year-old adoptive daughter, Lucy.

Just months ago, Rebecca received a conclusive diagnosis of terminal cancer, and learned that she does not have long to live. When the days of one so alive are all at once so shortly numbered, and yet heart still bursts with a sacred love that knows no bounds, what is she to do? Rebecca Hammann sat down in November to write a letter to Barack Obama. I immediately felt to share her letter with you, and the President’s response. We are all in this together, and even having wandered together for so long through the valley of shadows, I feel hope dawning. Here and now.

Dear President-Elect Obama,

For the last year or so I have felt as if the world was falling apart. Our system is based on buying more than we need, more cheaply than the true costs. We believe that we deserve comfort and ease and material things that our Earth cannot afford to give us. That is why I hoped so much that you would be elected. You bring hope and true leadership to this country and this world. There is a chance, now, for my two-year-old daughter to live in a world of beauty and love instead of the chaos and greed I had begun to imagine for her.

She is a glorious child, full of life and love and humor and she alone is worth changing the world for. You must not falter. I know in my head that there are millions of children to protect; even adults who have created this mess are worthy. But I must ask you for her in particular. The day after your election I learned that I do not have much time. A seven-year-old cancer has spread to my lungs and brain and will prevent me from taking part in the changes that must occur. So I am begging you to lead this world with all your heart and mind, to not take the easy path and to never let the rest of us take it either. This is a lot to ask of you, I know. Our entire paradigm must shift. Our decisions have been based on material possessions and comforts. Even mine. I just decided a few weeks ago to try to live without my own car. I realized that I must be part of the solution now before it is too late. But my tiny realization must be magnified a million times if it is to save our beautiful Earth. Our lives must change. We simply cannot sustain what we are currently doing.

My hope is that you are honest and courageous enough to lead us in the direction we must go. You have two beautiful daughters yourself. You know there isn’t a moment to lose.
But your task is daunting. It is not something you can do alone. You will need to convince the people of this country and in this world that they need to and can change. If anyone can do this, it is you. In a culture of lies and convenience and ease, you have the ability to say the truth clearly and, I hope, the people of this country have the willingness to hear your words.
The changes we must make will require almost overwhelming amounts of courage and hope-and that is what you inspire in us.

My darling Lucy can do without most of what we have grown accustomed to-the material possessions and the comforts. But she needs a healthy Earth and a thoughtful self-sacrificing humankind willing to act for our future generations no matter how difficult.
Please, from the bottom of my heart, don’t give up this fight. If you could meet my daughter Lucy, you would know why you cannot. And there are millions of Lucys in this world.

Sincerely,
Rebecca H
ammann

Obama’s reply:

Dear Rebecca,

Thank you for the letter that you wrote to me on behalf of your daughter. I was moved by your sense of hope and purpose.
You described what makes Lucy unique and glorious, and then ended by saying that “there are millions of Lucys in this world.” I was struck by the seeming contradiction, but of course it’s true – we all know that there are hundreds of millions of children, and yet each is unique.
Just like you, I try every day to build a better world for my daughters, and to make sure they are ready to enjoy it – that their personalities are shaped by love, knowledge, compassion, a sense of honor, and the free spirit that my mother always nurtured in me. While I can’t imagine the anguish you feel knowing that Lucy will grow up without you, I am profoundly honored to be part of the hope that buoys you today.
You are right to be hopeful, because our children face a future of limitless possibility. We know that a sustainable way of life is essential to our children and grandchildren. But beyond that, the quest for sustainability that you described with such eloquence and passion is integral as well, because it is a powerful unifier, motivating peoples and nations to act in concert so that all may benefit.
I have every confidence that your daughter will grow up to be a part of this, living out the principles that have motivated you and which will live on within her. My heart tells me Lucy will play a part in creating the change you and I seek. My faith tells me that you will be smiling down on us the whole time.

Sincerely,
Barack Obama

God bless Rebecca, and Lucy. God Bless our President and his family. Let us tend to that small flicker of Hope that remains alive, in ourselves and in one another, tenderly and with the greatest vigilance. We might all be surprised.

Great Quote, # 1

Jack Kerouac (Mar. 12, 1922 – Oct. 21, 1969), ever the outsider, author, spiritual seeker, explorer of the psyche, a true-blue American original. Definitely the first to write a novel of historic literary importance about a road trip. coined the phrase “Beat Generation” in the course of a casual conversation. Wrote, among others, On the Road and The Dharma Bums (a book I will always hold dear).
Read them!

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace things, but burn like fabulous roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue center light pop and everybody goes “AWWW!”

– Jack Kerouac, On the Road

Great Quote, # 1

Jack Kerouac (Mar. 12, 1922 – Oct. 21, 1969), ever the outsider, author, spiritual seeker, explorer of the psyche, a true-blue American original. Definitely the first to write a novel of historic literary importance about a road trip. coined the phrase “Beat Generation” in the course of a casual conversation. Wrote, among others, On the Road and The Dharma Bums (a book I will always hold dear).
Read them!

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace things, but burn like fabulous roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue center light pop and everybody goes “AWWW!”

– Jack Kerouac, On the Road

Great Quote, # 1

Jack Kerouac (Mar. 12, 1922 – Oct. 21, 1969), ever the outsider, author, spiritual seeker, explorer of the psyche, a true-blue American original. Definitely the first to write a novel of historic literary importance about a road trip. coined the phrase “Beat Generation” in the course of a casual conversation. Wrote, among others, On the Road and The Dharma Bums (a book I will always hold dear).
Read them!

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace things, but burn like fabulous roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue center light pop and everybody goes “AWWW!”

– Jack Kerouac, On the Road

Great Quote, # 1

Jack Kerouac (Mar. 12, 1922 – Oct. 21, 1969), ever the outsider, author, spiritual seeker, explorer of the psyche, a true-blue American original. Definitely the first to write a novel of historic literary importance about a road trip. coined the phrase “Beat Generation” in the course of a casual conversation. Wrote, among others, On the Road and The Dharma Bums (a book I will always hold dear).
Read them!

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace things, but burn like fabulous roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue center light pop and everybody goes “AWWW!”

– Jack Kerouac, On the Road

Lost Cities

Road to Cocoanut Grove 1910’s Stereopticon Image

Along the way of one of our recent garage sale excursions, I had the pleasure of meeting noted Coconut Grove artist Carol Garvin at her wonderful home there. (Her work can be seen at http://www.cgarvin.com/openframe.htm, ) She had decided to let go of a number of treasures, including a number of old books once owned by the Munroe family (one of whom built the still-standing Barnacle homestead on the shores of the Bay), and a wonderful document published as a promotional piece by the Coconut Grove Chamber of Commerce in 1970:

Sitting down with it and turning it’s pages was wonderful, and strange.

Having been there for at least part of that era, it struck me that the vibrant, eccentric, and proud “village” so vividly brought back to life through the mosaic of stories, photos, and advertisements in that large brown magazine is now gone. Almost every bit of it. A sense of quirkiness, pride in community and individuality, and an unabashed need to live and feel and experience “larger than life,” were conveyed with pellucid clarity in what was said, and what was not. The pictures and words spoke of an era that now seems nearly as unreachable and distant as that of the once open streets of cobbled Pompeii, before the molten rivers and mountains of hot ash spewed by Mount Vesuvius swallowed it all up within its shadow.

And yes, it is true that I (as I thumbed through page after page of articles and advertisements for every manner of innovative and unique craftsmanship and creative expression, in (among many others) theater and cuisine and fashion and jewelry and floral arrangement), could not help but be struck by the thought, with no small wonder, “My God. My God.It would be a full 10 years until the sickness came.” These young people, captured in their bold and brave and (generally) good spirit, and the prime of their art, were never going to sicken and die. And neither were their friends one after another, like bowling pins racked up badly out of order.
The horizon was as bright, bold, and inviting as that of the blue bay itself, at its most lyrical. In that sense, and many others, it was such an innocent time.

Yet innocence, I suppose, is a relative term that takes on meaning only in strict relationship to the lessons of its contrapuntal “shadow,” experience. And we, all of us, adult and child alike, are becoming experienced. Like it or not.

(And by itself, that is not necessarily a bad thing. Not at all. But it is most certainly an invitation to the great o’er-looming question now hitting us all right in the face (and often very hard) collectively and alone: what are we to do with it, and where are we to go from here? Oh yeah, and how?

For some reason I cannot know, yet trust absolutely, I have hope.)

Coconut Grove 1970

(Click to view larger; return by back-arrow.)

Downtown, Close-Up

Let me clarify that I did not sit down to write another elegaic piece about AIDS and its long shadow. Been there, done that, am living it, and grateful to be alive.

I write more of a universal human experience confronted by anyone who sticks around long enough, and in South Florida it needn’t be that long, at all: the fading into history of yet another golden era. As so poetically expressed by Robert Frost, Nothing Golden Can Stay. I have to see that the Grove of that era was a “moment,” one so exquisitely vibrant and alive that it did not seem so. And perhaps that is why, for all of its canned “festiveness,” the Cocowalk mega-complex always touches me with a light but definite sense of sadness. Every time I go there, after all of these years.

This is how we often learn that we have really loved: we find ourselves mourning, to greater or lesser degree, and look back. I believe there might be a better way.

Miami River, and Egret

I write of one era, and yet: I’ve heard from the old timers how the real peak of the Grove was in the ’50’s, (Oh, Paul, my God! You should’ve been there! It really was something to see.“) when the “beat poets” took up residence and still more artists came, of all kinds, and a vibrant, cultured, and tolerant (real) community came to thrive in a most unlikely slice of tangled subtropical forest along the shores of Biscayne Bay.

And, of course, from even “older timers,” who grew up when the Seminole Indians still came in from the Everglades by cypress canoe to trade, and before all this damned pavement, when the water was unimaginably clear and the Earth still breathed fresh and deep. And, it was not yet too crowded to prevent the sharing of the ample forest with roaming panther, fox, black bear, and any number of other creatures that had arrived here well before any man. Since the dawn of time, after all, none of these species had known of (or been even able to imagine) any other that would have the motivation and means to lay claim to all of it, land and sea and sky above, all for itself.

They, God bless them, were innocent.

Tenochtitlan, seat of the Aztec Empire (current site of Mexico City), November 1519, a thriving city in many respects absolutely unequaled in contemporary Europe. Cortez and his men would arrive on the 22nd day of the following month.

Strange, the way this line of contemplation hits me. There’s no quality of the morbid to it; we are already grieving, yet we might not know exactly why. Every challenge I have yet encountered, no matter its seriousness or magnitude, is easier and most usefully faced in the light. Also, we cannot help but realize that the transience of our experience here is at once the most unimaginable burden we carry, and abiding sweetness that gets us through it.

And if the cities will come and go, perhaps we might set our sights on leaving behind, at the least, the finest and most golden treasure we possibly can. And quite possibly that treasure has nothing at all to do with gold of the cold metal kind.

Carpe diem. If you’ve got love in your heart, it is your greatest gift. Share it, all you can. Just because.

And I will aim to do the same.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Lost Cities

Road to Cocoanut Grove 1910’s Stereopticon Image

Along the way of one of our recent garage sale excursions, I had the pleasure of meeting noted Coconut Grove artist Carol Garvin at her wonderful home there. (Her work can be seen at http://www.cgarvin.com/openframe.htm, ) She had decided to let go of a number of treasures, including a number of old books once owned by the Munroe family (one of whom built the still-standing Barnacle homestead on the shores of the Bay), and a wonderful document published as a promotional piece by the Coconut Grove Chamber of Commerce in 1970:

Sitting down with it and turning it’s pages was wonderful, and strange.

Having been there for at least part of that era, it struck me that the vibrant, eccentric, and proud “village” so vividly brought back to life through the mosaic of stories, photos, and advertisements in that large brown magazine is now gone. Almost every bit of it. A sense of quirkiness, pride in community and individuality, and an unabashed need to live and feel and experience “larger than life,” were conveyed with pellucid clarity in what was said, and what was not. The pictures and words spoke of an era that now seems nearly as unreachable and distant as that of the once open streets of cobbled Pompeii, before the molten rivers and mountains of hot ash spewed by Mount Vesuvius swallowed it all up within its shadow.

And yes, it is true that I (as I thumbed through page after page of articles and advertisements for every manner of innovative and unique craftsmanship and creative expression, in (among many others) theater and cuisine and fashion and jewelry and floral arrangement), could not help but be struck by the thought, with no small wonder, “My God. My God.It would be a full 10 years until the sickness came.” These young people, captured in their bold and brave and (generally) good spirit, and the prime of their art, were never going to sicken and die. And neither were their friends one after another, like bowling pins racked up badly out of order.
The horizon was as bright, bold, and inviting as that of the blue bay itself, at its most lyrical. In that sense, and many others, it was such an innocent time.

Yet innocence, I suppose, is a relative term that takes on meaning only in strict relationship to the lessons of its contrapuntal “shadow,” experience. And we, all of us, adult and child alike, are becoming experienced. Like it or not.

(And by itself, that is not necessarily a bad thing. Not at all. But it is most certainly an invitation to the great o’er-looming question now hitting us all right in the face (and often very hard) collectively and alone: what are we to do with it, and where are we to go from here? Oh yeah, and how?

For some reason I cannot know, yet trust absolutely, I have hope.)

Coconut Grove 1970

(Click to view larger; return by back-arrow.)

Downtown, Close-Up

Let me clarify that I did not sit down to write another elegaic piece about AIDS and its long shadow. Been there, done that, am living it, and grateful to be alive.

I write more of a universal human experience confronted by anyone who sticks around long enough, and in South Florida it needn’t be that long, at all: the fading into history of yet another golden era. As so poetically expressed by Robert Frost, Nothing Golden Can Stay. I have to see that the Grove of that era was a “moment,” one so exquisitely vibrant and alive that it did not seem so. And perhaps that is why, for all of its canned “festiveness,” the Cocowalk mega-complex always touches me with a light but definite sense of sadness. Every time I go there, after all of these years.

This is how we often learn that we have really loved: we find ourselves mourning, to greater or lesser degree, and look back. I believe there might be a better way.

Miami River, and Egret

I write of one era, and yet: I’ve heard from the old timers how the real peak of the Grove was in the ’50’s, (Oh, Paul, my God! You should’ve been there! It really was something to see.“) when the “beat poets” took up residence and still more artists came, of all kinds, and a vibrant, cultured, and tolerant (real) community came to thrive in a most unlikely slice of tangled subtropical forest along the shores of Biscayne Bay.

And, of course, from even “older timers,” who grew up when the Seminole Indians still came in from the Everglades by cypress canoe to trade, and before all this damned pavement, when the water was unimaginably clear and the Earth still breathed fresh and deep. And, it was not yet too crowded to prevent the sharing of the ample forest with roaming panther, fox, black bear, and any number of other creatures that had arrived here well before any man. Since the dawn of time, after all, none of these species had known of (or been even able to imagine) any other that would have the motivation and means to lay claim to all of it, land and sea and sky above, all for itself.

They, God bless them, were innocent.

Tenochtitlan, seat of the Aztec Empire (current site of Mexico City), November 1519, a thriving city in many respects absolutely unequaled in contemporary Europe. Cortez and his men would arrive on the 22nd day of the following month.

Strange, the way this line of contemplation hits me. There’s no quality of the morbid to it; we are already grieving, yet we might not know exactly why. Every challenge I have yet encountered, no matter its seriousness or magnitude, is easier and most usefully faced in the light. Also, we cannot help but realize that the transience of our experience here is at once the most unimaginable burden we carry, and abiding sweetness that gets us through it.

And if the cities will come and go, perhaps we might set our sights on leaving behind, at the least, the finest and most golden treasure we possibly can. And quite possibly that treasure has nothing at all to do with gold of the cold metal kind.

Carpe diem. If you’ve got love in your heart, it is your greatest gift. Share it, all you can. Just because.

And I will aim to do the same.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.