MEXICAN TRADITION-DAY OF THE DEAD.

The Day Of The Dead is on its fourth year as a celebration in Murphys. Here is a staged family out for a ride...

I don't know quite how different it would be in Mexico, but this is America, so of course, the dog rides in the back with the kids.

One of the vacation rentals puts on displays, and this year's theme was references to Frieda Kahlo. Beautifully done.

Folklorico representing various states in Mexico with traditional dances and  costuming held in Murphys Park.

Kids and adults dress up and paint their faces in sync with the celebration. This group was watching the dancers with rapt attention.

Like a statue, this little girl didn't move once during the whole set of dancers.

When this fellow came out with two, long blades, I knew we were in for something special.

Flashing blades at considerable speed, over head and under and between his legs made for quite a show. But then, a repeat with a blindfold on had me gasping.

No small feat. And with dire warnings from the MC, "don't try this at home."

Folkorico music always very fast and invigorating, the costuming beautiful. Very enjoyable. Jim attended a Day of the Dead in Mexico and said the music was deafening.

A tourist attraction, with staged displays made for a nice outing, but for some people, the celebration is very real, about the death of and remembrance of a loved one.

WHAT'S SPECIAL ABOUT A BIRTHDAY PARTY.

My friend? No, a friend to everybody, Carol Flemming, held a bash at her house for her 75th birthday party. "My kids insisted on this party," she told me. I totally understand that. The "kids" think you are on your last legs and counting when you reach 75.

I met Carol when I wrote features for the Calaveras Enterprise. It was 1982 and I featured her costume business, a unique and wonderfully creative business that is still going. Marti Oaks, right, with her son, worked for Carol and at one time lived in my Murphys house.

Pat Patterson, right, also worked costume design. It was fun catching up with old friends.

I also got to meet Carol's daughter, Liz, whom I'd never met before, along with her daughter, whose name I didn't get.

Carol's son Beau barbecued chicken and tri-tip. He, like his mom is a good cook. I'd met him when Carol had a restaurant in Arnold, the Froggy Diner. There is always cooking or a side business in Carol's life.

There were her friends and neighbors of all ages. Names seem to float out of my brain. This woman, like me, is finding acreage hard to keep up and looking to downsize. I hear that more and more from people I know.


Dale said she didn't take good pictures, but I do. I thought her laugh made her beautiful. It turned out, she knows my brother Clark.


I finally got this little girl to smile for my picture. But she kept a protective closeness to her parents.

My brother Clark was once a neighbor of Carol's in Burson. This man remembered he and Clark fixing a bridge that went out, before CalTrans was even called.

This woman too, talked to me at length of all the favors that Clark does for the neighbors. He helped with projects after her husband died, making her ever grateful.

This couple also know Clark and talked about him and the neighborhood, and things they've done together. He talked about Clarks 17 years of sobriety.

Another daughter, Mona and another grand daughter, I'd never met.

And, Carol's daughter China Rose with her two girls. She also has two sons. I hadn't seen China in over 17 years.

The baby was determined to sleep, but China wanted her to stay awake for the long ride back to Santa Cruz. I remember those days.

Carol joined the kids in the pool for a cooling dunk. I love it when you get to enjoy your own party.

This smart woman is a former daughter-in-law-still friends of the family. She gave me good advice about AirBnB...ideas have been floating through my brain all day.
The woman in red, Cindy, I think is her name. She is an artist. I always complain I never have time to paint or create.  Her very good advice, "Make it your priority, first thing in the morning. Everything else can wait."
A birthday surprise for Carol, her brother Willie flew in from Hawaii.
I tried to get a picture of everyone. And, I missed Phil, her husband, who was busy, busy, busy, tending the bar and keeping people happy. There is a pattern, here.
Kids, babies, teens, middle agers, old folks...
You know what was different about this party?  I saw no one with their head down, texting and playing with their phone or messages or...whatever they do. That, my friends, is what was special about this birthday party. A rarity. And great fun.

FROM THE ASHES.

Driving home from Oregon yesterday took seven and a-half hours. As I rolled into the county, local radio announced a burn of 450 acres near Mountain Ranch, the area that took the brunt of the Butte Fire. The Butte Fire is considered the worst for home losses in the state from a single fire.
The day before I left, I managed a quick trip to the local Arts Council Gallery for a look at their exhibit entitled History From The Ashes.
There is no joy in picking up cherished or simply common objects from your burned out property. Mostly sadness, tears and awe that anything recognizable survived the conflagration.

We know art is healing. And there is something about picking through the ashes that must be common to all of us. I watched on television as folks did just that after Katrina. The flood, destroyed as completely as fire.
When my house burned to the ground in Michigan, I remember finding  my melted marbles and my mother's  jar full of precious coins. The wafts of smoke coming from the ashes, the strong smell, the bent bed springs and melted cook stove didn't make me give up hope that I might find a heart shaped plastic locket my grandmother gave me that contained a tiny rosary. Of course, it couldn't possibly survive, but my 8 year self believed in miracles.

Items found, were given an artful setting of remembrance.

Or put together to form a sculpture or a mobile.

One survivor made a fabric wall hanging, with burned out spars of trees surrounded by wild flowers. A reality, wild flowers, rain fed, follow a burn.

Dead bushes and trees amid new grass on this canvas.

You can see my face reflected in the glass covering a spectacular photo by John Slot of the borate bomber releasing its chemical fire retardant.

And this photo by Katie Clark of a partially burned home with a surviving flag.

The most spectacular piece in the show is this shawl, positioned like an effigy with burned offerings at its feet. The shawl was made from the ties that bound hay bales distributed to land owners. Hay spread on bare ground, an effort to help prevent erosion. This artist washed and dyed the pieces. She softened them enough for weaving and wove this shawl.
It is a good feeling that something pretty, or remembered or useful rises from the ashes of despair and we can all see through to their recovery and healing, as art surpasses the ashes.

MINDFUL OF AGING ISSUES.

Paul Moeller, a long time friend is temporarily in a convalescent home called Oak Terrace in Soulsbyville. He has had a series of physical set-backs, falls, broken bones. He has a lot of grit and he is working on his walking and physical therapy and determined to make it back to his home. For an 89-year-old, that is an optimistic goal.  I believe he is going to make it.


On nice days, his personal caregiver, Nellie, assists him outside to spend time in the sun. In fact the sun was so bright yesterday, that he had to shut one eye to be able to look toward the camera.
It is a place that gives you pause as we all have end of life issues to think about and consider as we age. And, it is easy to see how a person can be very depressed and just give up. That isn't Paul's way and I have to admire his strength at this juncture to keep up the good fight for strength and a future of his own definition, which is home.

In the meantime, it behooves all of us to stop and smell the flowers. Intelligence for your life guru, John Tesh, reminds us that just touching a flower or seeing it can restore healing brain chemicals. Viewing nature from his terrace has a similar reaction.
A few flowers are in order.


Lilacs fill my yard with fragrance.


And, beauty.


...

FRIENDS AND COOKIES.

After a late evening Doctor's appointment, I returned to Murphys in time for Christmas Open House held every year on Main St.  Fire buckets up and down the street give light and warmth as folks make their way from shop to shop. Or for a bag pipe player to practice his craft for anyone who will listen.


The Murphys Hotel, festooned on three sides, looked like the Fourth of July. A fellow was juggling and spinning lighted batons to entertain the crowds, but my picture was one big blur.


Everyone is welcome to do their own thing. This fairy tale princess rode around town on a bicycle dressed just like her. She stopped for a cigarette.


From the East end of town, I looked into a gallery and ran into Marlene Bradford, a friend and neighbor who tried to teach me to be a sculptor. I watched her make this fish so I took her picture with it. Then  five old friends I hadn't seen in six months showed up, which for me, is why I like the Christmas festivities.


Pam Quyle got separated from her friends, cell phones not on, so she waited for them to find her. We chatted until I got cold and ditched inside the shop...


What did I find?  Like a golf hole, this apparatus is for frisbee players. Murphys, San Andreas and  Bear Valley now have a course. Frisbee is very popular. I took this picture for my son-in-law, Cedric, who is a tournament player. If we were a gift trading family...only $149.


Since I hadn't had dinner, I was searching for cookies. At Tanners Wine Shop, Amy was serving her decadent Cowgirl Apple Dumplings. She gave me a double since I hadn't had dinner. Oh, yum. Better than cookies. She claims the secret is gravenstein apples and dumping a can of Mountain Dew over the whole works. "It is one of two delicious unhealthy things I make," she told me.  "I never use mock whipped cream except for that pretzel jello salad, it doesn't work with real whipped cream."  I know, I've made it too. Ah, let us all praise decadent desserts.


This gallery has a piano player every year. I missed all the choral groups on the street that played Christmas Carols.


The Brew Pub had a good rock band and people were dancing, listening and having fun.


At the tea shop? Bonanza!  Cookies and tea. I stayed and talked to the owner and was surprised to be reminded she has had the tea shop for 10 years. Businesses change hands, close, and each year you miss another one.  I often remember the business that was in the spot before. Beautiful Christmas trees in the shops were enjoyable.  I've off loaded a gob of ornaments, I don't lavishly decorate, nor bake cookies now that Doug does a better job of it.  Hmm!  Maybe this year I'll indulge.


Though I was late, and I didn't make it to the West end of Main St.' I had a terrific time along with an unusual dinner.