Wild Blue Iris

Iris missouriensis

Click on photo to enlarge - © 2010 jim otterstrom

A Wild Blue Iris (Iris missouriensis) blooms near the shore of the Stanfield Marsh this morning.

I sometimes find myself blushing in the presence of such sensual beauty, so feminine in its expression.

I spent half an hour with this Iris today and that wasn't near long enough.

I laid down close to it, touched its soft tender petals, took in its delicate scent, and painted its graceful beauty into my memory. And then I photographed it to share with you.

Georgia O'Keefe was inspired by flowers like this to create some of her most passionate and controversial work.

I share Georgia's love for the passion and sensuality in nature, it's what drives evolution and the perpetuation of life.

~Long Live Sensuality, Passion, And Life~

To Santa Barbara & Back, By Train, Bicycle & Bus

Monday, June 22nd, 5:44 A.M.

Big Bear Lake

~Leaving Home~ Click on photo to enlarge - © 2009 jim otterstrom

Peggy and I took a 4-day trip to Santa Barbara last month to visit our friends, Alver & Judyl, and I thought some of you might be interested in seeing how we manage to get around without a car.

In the photo above, we are on one of the footbridges along the Stanfield Marsh Wildlife Preserve, about halfway between our house and the MARTA (Mountain Area Rapid Transit Authority) bus stop, where we will catch the 6:30 A.M. shuttle down the mountain to the Metrolink train depot in San Bernardino. It's about 1 3/4 miles from our house to the designated Off The Mountain (OTM) bus stop, about a 15 minute ride. We left early to go the local donut shop for a cup of coffee.

The shuttle runs down & up the mountain 3 times a day during the week and twice a day on Saturdays. There is no service on Sunday so we have to plan our trips around that. The fare for the forty-some mile trip is $7.00, each way. MARTA considers anyone 62 or older as a Senior Citizen so my fare was only $3.50. Peggy has several years before she qualifies as a senior so it cost us $10.50 to get down the mountain.

6:16 A.M. ~ At The Wrong Bus StopClick on photo to enlarge - © 2009 jim otterstrom

A week or so before our trip I discovered that several of our bus-stops had been relocated to avoid traffic congestion in the shopping center parking lots and assumed that the OTM stop was also moved to the newer location in the Von's lot. I was wrong!

Fortunately, I noticed people hanging around the old bus-stop in front of Rite-Aid, and, sure enough, there are now two bus stops in the same shopping center, one for the local MARTA buses, and another for the OTM shuttles. Go figure?

Each MARTA bus and shuttle has a rack on the front which holds 2 bikes (no extra charge), but we were a little concerned that we might have to come back for the noon shuttle if there was another bicycle rider here before us. We had alternate train schedules figured out if that happened to be the case but we were the only bicyclists there.

6:39 A.M.

On The Shuttle With AngelClick on photo to enlarge -© 2009 jim otterstrom

When the shuttle arrived promplty at 6:30, we were happy to see that our old friend, Angel, would be driving us down the mountain. Angel's been driving MARTA buses for many years and, when you live in a small town, the people you encounter so regularly become like extended family.


Strapping The Bikes Into A Metrolink Rail Car

Click on photo to enlarge - © 2009 jim otterstrom

Purchasing tickets from the Metrolink ticket machines is always a bit confusing if you haven't used them for awhile, but there always seems to be some well-experienced Metrolinker there to help as the train rolls into the station and the neophytes (or under-experienced) start pounding buttons in hurried frustration.

Unlike MARTA, Metrolink won't consider me a senior until I'm 65, sixteen months from now, so Peg and I paid the full one-way fare of $10.25 each, for the ride from San Bernardino to Union Station in downtown Los Angeles.

Each Metrolink car has tie-downs for two bicycles, and a conductor informed me that, during rush hours, some bicyclists bring along bungee cords, enabling them to tie their bike to another.

Metrolink cars are light and cheery, ride very smoothly, and some seats face each other with tables in between for socializing or catching up on office work I suppose. But these are strictly commuter trains and have no food service or snack bar.

Preparing for the trip, I researched the various transit systems we'd be using, for fares, schedules, and bicycle accommodations (again, no extra charge), and our entire experience was extremely relaxing and enjoyable. Trains can be subject to delays though, so it's always advisable to not be on a tight schedule, and to have alternate plans if you miss one of your connections.

Our biggest delay would've been if there wasn't room for our bikes on the MARTA OTM bus, which would've set us back 6 hours, or until the next day. The Metrolink trains leave San Bernardino beginning at 4:18 A.M., until 7:15 P.M., running every half-hour to hour, depending on the time of day, while the AMTRAK Pacific Surfliner we rode from L. A. to Santa Barbara departs approximately every hour from 6 A.M. to 10 P.M.

In The Garden At Union Station DepotClick on photo to enlarge - © 2009 peg otterstrom

I love going through L.A.'s Union Station these days to find the grand old building bustling with thousands of travelers at all hours of the day. Most of the time I was growing up, and even after Peg & I moved to Big Bear, Union Station was more like a ghost town, sparsely populated a few times a day by die-hard train enthusiasts who still traveled by their preferred method, or those who couldn't afford, or were fearful of air travel. But, in the 1980s things began to look up for Union Station. Los Angeles re-introduced light rail and, even a subway, to the city which once proudly touted their Pacific Electric Red Cars (my dad was one of their operators and I rode them many times), back when L.A. had the most extensive public rail system in the world. And, thankfully, they made the beautifully designed & crafted Union Station the central hub for the various lines, bringing life and vitality back to the area.


Olvera Street ~ La Noche Buena

Click on photo to enlarge - © 2009 jim otterstrom

Every time I find myself at Union Station I also visit my very favorite little Mexican Cafe , La Noche Buena, number E 8, Olvera Street in the historic El Pueblo de Los Angeles.

The friendly staff seems to be family, always the same guys there, and somehow they remember me on my infrequent trips through town. A busy fast-paced place overflowing with locals and regulars who are there for deliciously authentic, affordable Mexican food. I can still taste those great chicken tacos!

Historic Glendale DepotClick on photo to enlarge - © 2009 jim otterstrom

At 12:45 P.M., about 15 minutes after after leaving Union Station, northbound on AMTRAK's Pacific Surfliner, we passed another historic and lovingly restored train depot. The onetime Southern Pacific depot serving Glendale, California was opened in 1923, and is now known as the Glendale AMTRAK/Metrolink Station.

Pacific Surfliner cars have space for three bicycles in each car, but unlike Metrolink, AMTRAK has racks installed where you hang the bikes vertically on the wall near the entrance. It was the first time I'd used these, and, during the task of figuring out how they worked, I forgot to take a picture of them.

The Pacific Surfliner is what I call a fun ride though! There's a Coach Cafe Car with large windows and tables downstairs, and coach seating upstairs. The food is nothing fancier than what you might find on a catering truck, and rather expensive, but they do serve beer and wine, including some very good beers from Stone Brewing Company in San Diego. Be prepared to pay for it though, running a railroad isn't cheap...

We opted for two small bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon, at $7.50 each, to enjoy during our afternoon ride, as Peggy and I nostalgically rolled through our old hometowns of the West San Fernando Valley, and chugged northward through Simi Valley, Moorpark, Camarillo and Oxnard, toward Ventura, and the coastline of the Pacific Ocean.

Our one-way fare between Los Angeles and Santa Barbara on the Pacific Surfliner was $25 apiece, with mine being discounted to $21.50, because AMTRAK also classifies Seniors as those 62 or over. We packed our own healthful snacks to eat along the way so the cost of the wine didn't deter us as we meant to thoroughly enjoy ourselves and the casual ambiance of the Pacific Surfliner.

Cruising Along The Blue PacificClick on photo to enlarge - © 2009 jim otterstrom

Once you depart the Ventura Depot you're only a couple of minutes from the most scenic part of the trip, where you travel right along the coast, with waves crashing just outside your window, if you happened to pick a seat on the west-facing side of the car. Our wine and snacks finished, we're now just enjoying the scenery and looking forward to visiting our friends in Santa Barbara.

~SIMPLE PLEASURES~

3:48 P.M.
~Santa Barbara, California~Click on photo to enlarge - © 2009 jim otterstrom

Santa Barbara is a gorgeous, artsy, people-friendly, bicycle friendly city, with stunning architecture that reflects the natural beauty of the Southern California coast. As far as I'm concerned, cities don't get much better than this!

I was taken by the walkway to the front entrance of the circa 1902 Santa Barbara Train Depot, which is simply a gravel path leading from a residential neighborhood of modest size homes situated between the tracks and the Pacific Ocean. How Old California is that?

Our friends, Alver & Judyl, live about 15 minutes from here, by bicycle, and we had just called to let them know our train had arrived and we'd be at their place soon.

But first we wanted to stop by and say hello to another old friend of mine, Janet, who lives on a tiny houseboat in the Santa Barbara Marina just a couple of blocks from here.

~Small Is Beautiful~

Janet's Lovely Little BoatClick on photo to enlarge - © 2009 jim otterstrom

Janet has classes during the day and is somewhat difficult to get in touch with by phone at any given moment in time (kind of like me), so we just followed her directions to the location of her boat, and how to gain access to the dock. Once there, of course, Janet wasn't home, but the boat was open and an ice-cold Pilsner Urquell awaited me in the fridge.

~Waiting For Janet~
Or... How You Know You're On Vacation!Click on photo to enlarge - © 2009 peg otterstrom

We waited around for about half-an-hour, enjoying the light & airy feel of this pretty & well-organized little boat, but no Janet, so we decided to try again another day and headed off to Alver & Judyl's place.

Did I Mention That Alver Is An Artist?Click on photo to enlarge - © 2009 jim otterstrom

I've known Alver for forty-some years, since the good old days of Topanga Canyon, and visited him a couple of times shortly after he moved to Santa Barbara around 1970, before losing track of him. About a decade ago I ran across a mutual friend who had Alver's current contact info and it's great to be back in touch with him.

On a previous trip to Santa Barbara, for a family wedding two years ago, we had the chance to visit with Alver for just a few minutes on our way home (the first time in almost 40 years), and met Judyl, his significant other, for the first time.

Peggy and I felt so much at home in the presence of both Alver & Judyl that we really wanted to get back up there and spend some time with them, so, over two years later, we finally made it.

In the picture above, Alver is demonstrating how the spinner in the center of his somewhat prophetic 1981 assemblage piece, 'Suckabuck', works.


JudylClick on photo to enlarge - © 2009 jim otterstrom

And this is Judyl, one of the strongest, most creative, and interesting women I've ever met, possessed of a deep-rooted beauty which shines from within her like a beacon of honesty radiating from some special place where we all wish we had spent a lot more time.

Among other things, Judyl is a poet, a former publisher of poetry books, a gardener, an excellent cook, and, a gifted weaver, of enormous talent in so many ways.

But, most of all, she's simply inspirational to be around!


Two Old Coots In Judyl's GardenClick on photo to enlarge - © 2009 jim otterstrom

Alver and I in Judyl's garden Monday evening, shortly after Peg and I rode in from the train station. It seems that a large number of my old buddies, oddly enough, are afflicted with HFS (Hairy Face Syndrome).

Judyl & Peg On The Porch

Click on photo to enlarge - © 2009 jim otterstrom

Peggy & Judyl share a chuckle on the front porch Wednesday morning, at my expense I believe. Something about, "does he ever put that camera down?".

Judyl's GardenClick on photo to enlarge - © 2009 jim otterstrom

Peggy spent a lot of time here during our visit, doing good-work in Judyl's garden, and what better hours might anyone ask for than those spent in the bountiful garden of a dear friend?

Judyl With Her LoomClick on photo to enlarge - © 2007 jim otterstrom

This photo was taken in what I'll call Judyl's weaving studio back in 2007, during our previous and very short visit. I believe she had recently finished the shawl she is wearing.

I was, and still am, completely taken with the beauty and quality of her weaving, and in a subsequent post will be sharing more of that here, but you can see already why Judyl is such an inspiration to Peggy and I.

Alver In His StudioClick on photo to enlarge - © 2009 jim otterstrom

One of my reasons for making this visit was to convince a somewhat reluctant Alver to allow me to photograph some of his work for him, much of which hasn't been documented.

During our four days at their place I managed to photograph over 50 of his assemblage pieces, many of which were large works that had to removed from walls, and all of which, had to be moved outside to a makeshift photo studio. Time was short, my equipment is not what one could call professional, and we had to make do with less than ideal conditions, so Alver was, I think, justifiably skeptical that the results would be worth the effort. But, little by little, I've been sending him some of those results, which I'm quite happy with, and I believe Alver is pleasantly surprised as well.

Alver honored my efforts by generously sending me one of my favorite pieces, 'Spin, Twist, Traverse', constructed in 2004, which you will also see in a future post.

All of my time wasn't spent taking photos though!

I too worked in the garden a bit and we had some really delicious meals together. We visited the Santa Barbara Community College Adult Education Floor Loom Class Judyl is involved with (an amazing 35 floor looms all in one big room). We went to Alver's favorite thrift store, in Goleta, where Peg & I made some cool finds, on the cheap!

Peggy and I went for early morning bike rides, discovering little hole-in-the-wall joints with great breakfasts. We rode miles of bike paths along wide-open ocean front parks. We rode out on Stearns Wharf and did a little shopping. We had delicious omelettes at The Breakwater Restaurant, overlooking Janet's houseboat in The Marina (while we were keeping the boat under surveillance after our third unsuccessful attempt to visit her). We took a short boat excursion out to Stearns Wharf again, aboard The Little Toot, with one of Janet's friends who works on the boat. We rode our bikes to the Tri-County Wholesale Produce Market and bought bunches of goodies for dinner.

Judyl and Peg chatted away, getting to know each other while Alver and I reminisced with stories of old friends, and the good time was obviously shared by all.

Yep, this all happened in four very short and relaxing days.

But it was time to go home...

Click on photo to enlarge - © 2007 jim otterstrom

This is Alver & Judyl saying goodbye to us from their front porch back in 2007.

It is the photo I kept referring to in reminding myself that we needed to go back and spend some time with these two people.

And now we have scads of new pictures, and fond memories too, which will bring us back together, sooner, rather than later.

Thank You Judyl & Alver!

~But Alas, We Have A Train To Catch~


Santa Barbara Depot
6:22 A.M. Friday, June 26th
Click on photo to enlarge - © 2009 jim otterstrom

We left Alver & Judyl's place about 5:30 A.M., riding southward down Milpas Street until we found an open place to get coffee, then continued on to the beachfront bicycle path and headed north toward State Street and the train station. Another coffee stop on State and it was time to wait for our train. But we had an unexpected surprise in store.


JANET!!!
Click on photo to enlarge - © 2009 jim otterstrom

During our last visit, on Thursday, to Janet's unoccupied boat, I wrote her a note on a napkin and left it sitting on her bedside table. I said I was sorry that we had missed her and that we were leaving on the 6:30 A.M. train the next morning.

Well, I'll be damned if some character in her dream didn't keep telling her that she'd better wake up and get over to the train station, so she jumped out of bed, got herself a cup of coffee somewhere, and came running up the platform yelling, "I'm here, I'm here!".

What a wonderful surprise, and the perfect ending to our Santa Barbara visit. I hadn't seen Janet in over 20 years either, although we keep in touch by phone, letters, and e-mail.

We got to hang out for fifteen minutes or so until it was time to board and we were saying that we were looking forward to breakfast at Olvera Street again when she told us she was recently there and had absolutely great molé at La Golondrina Restaurant.

We all hugged, and Peggy & I climbed aboard our train, racked our bikes, and took our seats. We waved goodbye as our train rolled away, southward again, with Janet running alongside blowing kisses like some scene from a Humphrey Bogart/Lauren Bacall film.



~La Golondrina Restaurant~
Click on photo to enlarge - © 2009 jim otterstrom

During our train ride south, Peg asked me if I remembered the name of the Mexican Restaurant Janet told us about, to which I replied, "Of course I remember the name, I used to live in a house on the corner of Canoga Avenue and Golondrina Street in Woodland Hills". With that question, I knew she really wanted to taste that molé and we got to Olvera Street just as La Golondrina was opening up, so we each ordered our particular style of Margarita before we studied the menu.

A Toast To Olvera Street, To Janet, And To Us...
Click on photo to enlarge - © 2009 jim otterstrom

When the waiter brought us our drinks, and some paper napkins, I remembered something else about the word Golondrina. La Golondrina was printed on the napkin in Janet's boat, on which I left her the note about the train station, obviously a napkin she saved from her recent trip here.

She awoke from her dream, rushed to the old Santa Barbara Depot, and now we are here at La Golondrina. What a strange and magical world it is...

~Molé With Music~
Click on photo to enlarge - © 2009 jim otterstrom

Peggy got the molé, which she loved, and I ordered an unbelievably delicious crab-stuffed chile relleno that just melted in my mouth. The best chile relleno I've ever had and I consider myself a bit of a chile relleno connoiseur!

This was the only time on the trip that we really splurged. The meals were out of our budget range, but the food & service was excellent!

Besides, it was providence that brought us here and who's to complain about being guided to a divine meal, accompanied by mariachi music, before embarking on the last leg of a perfect mini-vacation.

Don't mess with the Gods of Muse!
Click on photo to enlarge - © 2009 jim otterstrom


Back At The San Bernardino Metrolink Station
Click on photo to enlarge - © 2009 jim otterstrom

By 1 P.M. we were back at the San Bernardino Metrolink Station where we met up with two Big bear friends while waiting for the shuttle up the mountain.

Eric (red-shirt), who works at a local firewood yard two-blocks from our house, was on his way home from visiting family and entering his pride & joy, a custom all-chrome low-rider bicycle, in a big low-rider bike competition, and Roger (hand-up behind the arch), an old friend from my Post Office days when I'd see him during my frequent lunches at the Teddy Bear Restaurant.

We're feeling close to home now...


HOME, SWEET HOME!
Click on photo to enlarge - © 2009 jim otterstrom

An hour and a half later our shuttle was rounding the meadow by Juniper Point just a couple of miles from our house and we were happy to be home again after a wonderful trip.

Sometime soon I hope to be sharing some more photos of Alver & Judyl, of their home, their art, and their life together.

~PEACE & LOVE~

RESOLUTION 2009

REVOLUTION FOR ME IS

A PERSONAL EVOLUTION OF

THE OF HEART AND MIND

IN SEARCH OF SUSTAINABLE SOLUTIONS

NOW IS THE TIME TO BE THE CHANGE I WISH TO SEE IN THE WORLD

I REJECT OUR DESTRUCTIVE AND DEBILITATING CULTURE OF CONSUMPTION.

I REJECT CAPITALISM AND GROWTH AS ECONOMIC MODELS FOR A FINITE WORLD OF DIMINISHING RESOURCES AND DIVERSITY.

I WILL LIVE EVERY DAY IN JOYFUL AWE OF THE BEAUTIFUL WORLD WE INHERITED AND WILL ALSO ALLOW MYSELF TO FULLY FEEL MY SADNESS OVER WHAT WE ARE DOING TO IT.

I LOOK FORWARD TO THE INCREASINGLY INFORMED DIALOGUE OF THOSE WHO WOULD WALK AWAY FROM THE INSANITY OF THIS CULTURE TOWARD NEW AND SUSTAINABLE WAYS OF LIVING.

I WILL LIVE IN PEACE WITH LOVE AND COMPASSION FOR MY FELLOW HUMANS AND ALL OF NATURE.

Click on the above photo to enlarge

The mosaic is ©2004 by Jeannie Houston Antes

My photo shows a close-up detail from our friend Jeannie's work, entitled, 'Now Is Your Chance', which resides on our living room wall.

A Visionary Architect, Humanitarian, Writer & Philosopher

Nader Khalili 1936-2008 Click on photo to enlarge - photo credit unknown
Borrowed from Kelly Hart at his Green Home Building Blog

"No one can prove there is a meaning to life. I must make my own life meaningful. That is all."

One of the ways Iranian born and educated architect Nader Khalili made his life meaningful was by designing and building beautiful earth-friendly super-adobe structures at his Cal-Earth Institute Of Earth Art And Architecture in nearby Hesperia, California. And by sharing his ideas and enthusiasm not only with his Cal-Earth students, but also within a larger global community of thoughtful, creative & hopeful people from all walks of life. People who are concerned about a viable future as they take deliberate steps toward sustainable living.

Peggy and I had been admiring Khalili's work, through photographs, newspaper articles, and websites for some 15 years before finally visiting Cal-Earth last April for a first-hand look at his delightful creations.

See photos at our post here.

We didn't get to meet Mr. Khalili when we were at Cal-Earth, we missed him by a day, and figured we'd get the chance on our next visit, but that's not going to happen.

Nader Khalili passed away last Wednesday, March 5th, he was 72 years old.

Much has been written about Nader Khalili by the people who knew, loved, and worked with him.

Yesterday morning, one of those people posted a comment at my previous post.

I have re-posted the comment below---and I thank 'anonymous' for the information---because Nader Khalili was the rare kind of human being this over-populated world needs more of.

"Nader Khalili, internationally renowned architect, author, and educator, passed away at the age of 72 on Wednesday, March 5th.He died at Cedars-Sinai Medical Hospital, of congestive heart failure.

Khalili was known for his innovation into the Geltaftan Earth-and-Fire System known as Ceramic Houses and the SuperAdobe Construction (sandbag and barbed wire) technique also known as Earthbag.

He developed his SuperAdobe technology in 1984, in response to a NASA call for designs for human settlements on the Moon and Mars.

He had been involved with Earth Architecture and Third World Development since 1975, and was a U.N. consultant for Earth Architecture.

In 1991 he founded the California Institute of Earth Art and Architecture (Cal-Earth), in Hesperia, CA, which teaches his SuperAdobe building technique.

His sustainable solutions to human shelter have been published by NASA, and awarded by the United Nations, the Aga Khan award for Architecture, amongst others. (see http://www.calearth.org/khalili.htm, for more.)

He authored six books, including his international best-selling auto-biography, "Racing Alone," (his newest book "Emergency Shelter," available this summer) as well as two highly-acclaimed volumes translating the poetry of Rumi, "Fountain of Fire" and "Dancing the Flame."

Born in Iran as one of nine children, his quest was to empower the world's poor and refugees to build homes using the earth under their feet.

He was a prominent American leader on the value of ethically based architecture, where the needs of the homeless are considered above all else.

Inspired by the mystical poetry of Rumi, (whose poems he studied and translated, from an early age) his architecture was distilled from the timeless principles of this universe and its timeless materials -- the elements of earth, water, air, and fire, and has been described as "Poetry crystallized into structure."

Laura Huxley, Aldous Huxley's widow, called Khalili the "practical visionary."

He was a quiet hero and a gentle humanitarian, who wrote: "No one can prove there is a meaning to life. I must make my own life meaningful. That is all."

He is survived by his wife Iliona, son Dastan, daughter Sheefteh, eight brothers and sisters and extended family.

~~~The Burial Ceremony will take place at 10:30 a.m. on Tuesday March 11th at the Sontag Greek Amphitheater, Pomona College, 300 E. Bonita Avenue, Claremont, CA, 91711. North-East Parking Lot entrance.

Burial and wake to follow after the ceremony.

10:00 - 10:30 am arrive at the Sontag Greek Amphitheater: For directions call: (909) 576-9830 (The Sontag Greek Amphitheatre is adjacent to the Seaver Theatre due east of Oldenborg Residence Hall.

Located in a wonderful wooded area known as the Wash, it is secluded from traffic yet a five minute walk from the center of campus. There are many theaters in the college but only one open air amphitheater.)

Ceremony until around 12:00 noon.

Then to Oak Park Cemetery for the burial. The main entrance is at the end of Oak Park Drive, cross street with Sycamore Avenue. (909) 399-5487

After the burial, the wake/refreshments at the Seaver House, Pomona College close to the amphitheater and the organic garden."

A Father's Day Letter To Claude Hampson

DAD - IN THE EARLY 1980s

Click on photo to enlarge - photo credit unknown

It was a much different world back in 1960!

For me, it was a world of cars, girls, & AM Radio, in that order, and I was working at my stepdad's autobody shop after school, on Saturdays, and during summer vacation.

This was no ordinary body & fender joint, and dad was no Bondo© hack! He was a master metalcrafter, among many other things, and worked specifically on imports, which were still rare in those days, and mostly owned by car enthusiast perfectionists who doted & fussed over their beloved machines.

The shop was always full of pretty sports cars, like MGs, Triumphs, Austin Healys, Alpha Romeos, Porsches, and Jaguars.

And, very often with outrageously expensive exotics too, from gull-wing Mercedes 300 SLs, to Ferraris, Bugattis, Aston Martins, Alpha Bats, Facel Vegas, Lamborghinis. or AC Ace/Bristols (before Carroll Shelby modified those same chassis & bodies to accomodate Ford V-8s and created the original Shelby Cobras)

And there were some Volkswagens too, and VW Karmann Ghias, and Renaults, Peugeots, Citroens, Borgwards, Vauxhalls and such.

But the cars I loved the most were the ones my stepfather built himself, like the Formula III car, Andrea, (named after the owner's daughter), which he designed & built, from the ground up, in the late '50s for Chuck Nerpel, editor of Motor Trend Magazine, and, especially, the 1927 Model T Ford Track Roadster he built for his friend Jack Thompson in the mid-fifties.

I still loved cars in those good old days---before we knew about global warming, and before I could look back upon a half century of the horrific consequences resulting from freeways, urban sprawl, overpopulation, pollution & industrialization---and long before my brilliant stepdad was stricken with mind-erasing Alzheimers.

My dad doesn't know me anymore and he lives in a care facility close to my mom's place in Utah.

For Father's Day, they asked the sons & daughters of the male residents there to send letters and pictures to be shared with the group as they assembled our Dads, and the family & friends who could attend, for a celebration this weekend.

Dad probably didn't understand a word of my letter, or even look at the pictures, but my mom said there wasn't a dry eye among the staff and visitors as the letter was read.

When my stepdad began to lose his faculties, he and I had been good buddies for many years, and I'm very thankful for that because there was a time when we wouldn't even speak to each other.

In my later teens, we had a few very tough years, as sons & fathers often do, and I was a wild one, an angry delinquent from a broken family. So we had a blowout!

Too rebellious to follow rules, I ended up living on the streets for quite some time.

I had nowhere else to go because my real father, a diabetic (and a very talented guy too, by the way), drank himself to death a few years after my mom divorced him.

My stepdad had some rough edges too, and didn't adjust very smoothly to becoming the instant father to four rowdy kids. But we got through those years, and, after I grew up a little, became very close friends again.

We're all human, we all make mistakes, and forgiveness may be the most important ingredient of love.

I've posted my Father's Day Letter* below.

But dad doesn't grasp what the words are about anymore, even though I purposely included many names, places, objects and events that should trigger his memory.

Still, it's Father's Day, and I'd like someone, anyone, to know how I feel about my dad.

Dear Claude,

I’m writing to wish you a very Happy Father’s Day and to say that I love you. I would also like to try and express how much I appreciate the great influence you’ve had on my life.

I am now 61 years old and you’ve been the only father I’ve known for 47 years.

You married my mother, Lois, when I was 14 years old, taking me under your wing and giving me a job at your business, Claude’s Body Shop, in Reseda, California.

In those years you were well-known and respected as one of the finest metal-workers, welders, tool & die makers, and auto-body craftsmen in Southern California.

Working under your example taught me to truly appreciate fine craftsmanship and the value in knowing how to do many things well.

I watched you build Formula III race cars, hot-rods and customs. I witnessed your restoration of many priceless antique classic cars, including that blue 1930s Bugatti T51A, a priceless one of a kind Alpha Bat, and a very rare Facel Vega.

Most, if not all, of the parts for those cars had to be hand-built from scratch and you always managed to do an impossibly beautiful job of it.

You were gifted with an extremely rare native genius, which, combined with your uncommon talents for artistic craftsmanship, innovative invention, and skilled know-how, put you in great demand in each of your fields of expertise.

Your talents seemed easily transferable to any craft you chose to practice. I watched you build gorgeous kitchen cabinets for our house in Van Nuys and remember you taking up many forgotten or difficult arts. You could do absolutely anything that captured your interest, and your interests seemed boundless.

You could hand paint exquisite realistic wood-grain patterns on any surface, a talent which came in quite handy for restoring the metal dashboards of antique cars which were often painted to look exactly like walnut burl or some other rare exotic wood. And I remember you painting a plain household door to look just like knotty-pine.

I remember when you got a centrifuge and took up lost-wax casting, when you found an old forge and set it up in the garage to practice hand-forging, all with superb results. You were also a master machinist, in great demand because of your unmatched skills with milling machines, lathes, and any other machinery you could get your hands on.

All the aspects of your skills and talents had a huge impact on my life. I still strive to be good at many different things, as you were, and, while I don’t have the same set of skills that you did, I'm quite artistic and productive in my own ways, through arts & crafts, photography, graphic design and such. And, to this day, I still do all the construction and repairs to our home, as you always had.

In the 1980s, I built the laundry room onto my house as a result of skills and confidence I learned from you. After I retired I rebuilt my roof to accommodate insulation, replaced all of our windows and doors, and recently installed pine-plank flooring. Now I’m preparing to remodel our kitchen and build the cabinets myself.

I do our own plumbing and remodeling, as you did, rarely hiring outside help, because, like you, I’ve learned that I can usually do a better job of it, and have the rewarding satisfaction of doing the work, being self-reliant, and saving money too.

Back the 1970s, from your example, I restored my old Datsun pick-up to mint condition, even rebuilding the engine myself.

Around that same time I took up stained-glass window making and built a bunch of nice looking windows which still grace several custom homes in Topanga Canyon.

The last window I made, in the late ‘70s, was for you and mom, for the front door of your Granada Hills house, where you saw it every day for decades, and now mom has moved it to the new house there in Elwood, Utah.

As you can see, being witness to your fine craftsmanship and working under your guidance, even for just those few short years, greatly enriched my life.

You showed me how to lay out a hood, or a body panel, and scribe it accurately for punching louvers, and how to properly prepare a car for a show-quality paint job. You taught me how to dis-assemble mangled cars and how to meticulously re-assemble them once the parts were repaired or replaced. You tried to teach me metalworking, welding, and machinist skills, even when I didn't really have an affinity for that stuff. But most importantly, you taught me to use care at every step, and to pay attention to details, and I became very good at that.

And, the fact that you trusted me to work on some of the world's rarest & most valuable cars gave me a great feeling of confidence.

Working at your shop, I developed practical and mechanical skills which have been extremely useful to me throughout my life. The education I got from you has been far more valuable than anything I learned in school, with the exception of the basic skills of reading, writing, and arithmetic, most of which mom taught me.

But still, you’ve given me so much more than all that, because you truly became my father.

You often reminded me of how important it was that I learn a trade so I could make a decent living for myself. You instilled in me a work ethic, and the desire to be responsible, which has enabled me to have a home and a family of my own for the past 28 years.

And, like most dads, you taught me how to drive a car, but not just any old car. I learned to drive in a classic red 1958 Triumph TR3 sports-car. And then, just days after I’d gotten my learner's permit, you let me drive that hand-built, now classic hot-rod around the block.

The 1927 Model “T” Ford track roadster you built for Jack Thompson in the '50s was featured on the cover of Hot Rod Magazine in August of 1958 (I sent a copy of the cover with this letter). Then, in the late ‘80s, you were consulted to assist Tri-C Engineering with part of its complete restoration, and today the car is considered one of America’s all-time classic hot-rod roadsters (I’ve enclosed some photos and stories about that too). Last I heard, the roadster was at Petersen’s Classic Car Museum in Los Angeles, but I got to drive it down old Reseda’s Canby Avenue, with you as my passenger, way back in 1961 when I was only 15 years-old. I was so nervous my clutch leg wouldn’t stop shaking. Driving that loud wild looking hot-rod is one of my all-time favorite memories.

You helped me get my first car, a 1953 Studebaker, my second car, a ’56 Chevy, and several years later, you gave me your beloved 1941 Ford pick-up, which had been given to you by your best friend Phil Freudiger (Muroc 200 MPH Club) many years before.

During my early twenties when I was on my own, after those awfully difficult teenage years, you and I became good buddies. So, the late 1960s, ‘70s, & '80s were great times for us. Remember the season’s passes we got to Busch Gardens every year, where we’d get together several times a month, with family and friends, to have an absolute blast?

We went to countless swap-meets and car shows together, to the Renaissance Pleasure Faire a couple of times, and often met for Sunday brunch, or went out to dinner or movies. You came up to Topanga Canyon and partied with my hippie friends when we had our pig or goat roasts. We went to wild counter-culture plays at the Topanga Community House.

Oh, we had such good fun then didn’t we?

I miss those days very much, when we were all so young and alive, and I wish we lived closer to each other so I could visit you more often.

Peggy and I enjoyed seeing you so much when we were there last October. We loved taking you out for that ride to see the new house and visiting with you there for part of the day. The next time we come to Utah we hope to do that again.

I’ve enclosed some pictures with this letter that I thought you might enjoy looking at: my favorite photo of you & mom, dancing in the 1980s; two pictures of your grandkids; some of Peggy & I; and one of me and my life-long friend Charlie. I also sent some photos of your now famous roadster, and a picture of that brass sun-pendant you made for me by the lost-wax casting process.

Thank you dad for all you’ve given me…

I hope you have a very nice Father’s Day.
I wish I was there with you today.
I love you very much!

Your son,

Jim

DAD BUILT THIS 27 'T' ROADSTER IN THE '50s

Click on photo to enlarge - photo credit unknown/owned by Tri-C Engineering

The entire nose of this beautiful track-style roadster, from the firewall forward, was hand-formed from aluminum, as was the full belly-pan. The grille, & grille bezel, were crafted from stainless steel and the matching nerf bar was fabricated from spring steel and then chrome-plated. Dad did all the work himself, before he had his own shop, including an immaculate black lacquer paint job which he sprayed, outdoors, under a giant walnut tree in his dad's front yard.

I think dad was still building aluminum Indie Car bodies for Frank Kurtis at Kurtis Kraft in Glendale when he built the roadster.

The original pin-striping was done by Jimmy Summers. Other details I remember are that the engine is a souped-up bored & stroked '48 Mercury Flathead V-8 with finned aluminum heads, a racing cam, and three Stromberg 97 two-barrel carburetors. The dashboard is engine-turned stainless, crafted by dad, with Stewart Warner gauges, and the tail-lights are '39 Ford teardrops. Custom headers route the dual exhaust pipes through a pair of hand-made surface-mounted stainless bezels, beneath twin nerf bars, on the tail of the modified 'T' bucket. The gloss black paint is contrasted with red Kelsey Hayes wire-wheels, and red leather upholstery

The roadster was completely restored some 15 years ago by Tri-C Engineering with my dad as a consultant. Dad also made some repairs to the aluminum cowl (hood) at the time. The car now looks exactly as it did nearly 50 years ago when it was featured on the cover of Hot Rod Magazine.

This is one of the first cars I ever drove.

But, in the harsh light of 21st Century realities, my love affair with the automobile is long a thing of the past. Still, I'll never forget this little beauty...

...and I'll never forget my stepfather, Claude Hampson.

*The Father's Day Letter above is slightly edited from the original, to correct grammar, smooth out a few sentences, and include a couple of overlooked details. But, it's still 99+% the original letter.

postscript - 6/21/07

There's a substantial amount of research linking aluminum with Alzheimers and I suspect that a lifetime of forming, fabricating, machining, sanding, and welding Aluminum was instrumental in my stepfather acquiring the disease.

Roland Diehl 1940 - 2006

Click on photo to enlarge




































Roland Diehl, one of my hippie brothers of the Topanga years passed away at 65, from cancer, on June 6th.

As you can see from the joy on his face Roland found great happiness with his loving sweetheart and partner of many years, Manda Beckett, who is holding a memorial for him on September 3rd, the weekend following his 66th birthday, which is August 31st.

The above invitation came with the mail today and I’m going to try and catch a train up to share in the celebration of his life. Roland’s gentle loving playful spirit will certainly be presiding and I'd love to partake in that experience one last time.

When I moved to Topanga in 1965 Roland was a 25 year old painter, and already an iconic figure of the canyon art scene. His best known work is the cover he painted for Neil Young’s first album in 1969 which I’ve posted below.

A couple of years before I left Topanga Roland moved to Portland, Oregon where he’s been working, loving, and playing his beloved conga drums with his friends up there ever since. We kept in touch by phone over the years, and it was a special treat for me a few years ago when Roland sent CDs of some of their drum sessions because my favorite memories of Roland are the Topanga drum circles we shared in 40 years ago.

Topanga Canyon was an impossibly beautiful vortex of free-spirited originality during the 60s, an island of creative experimentation, revelation, love, peace, freedom, and fellowship. For a brief few years it was a low-rent Bohemian art colony paradise-found, where in youthful innocence, we played naked in the garden as the world raged around us. The handful of friends I still have from that time share an almost sacred bond. Roland was a founder of that Topanga, one of the originals.

Your spirit lives on here in Southern California, too, Roland…

Peace....




















Click on cover to enlarge - Painting by Roland Diehl - 1968

$15 Studebaker - Van Nuys, California - 1971

Click on photo to enlarge

So here's the sweet old 1946 Studebaker Commander I owned when I photographed the sunset pictured below. I bought it in Topanga Canyon, sometime in late 1970, from collage and assemblage artist George Herms for $15. I was 25 years old.

George and Louise lived a couple hundred yards up the road from the old Topanga Corral nightclub where us canyon folk all socialized and danced to many of the great bands of the '60s. The Studie had been sitting up on blocks in their front yard for quite some time when George offered to sell it to me (I believe it was more gift than sale).

What it lacked was brakes, so I did a complete brake job on it, including rebuilding all four wheel cylinders, which probably cost me less than $30 in parts in those days. Aside from that, the car was in great condition, with very low mileage, and the 226 cubic inch flathead six purred quietly like my old treadle sewing machine.

The paint was a bit oxidized but a little rubbing compound, wax, and elbow grease brought back its luster, and when I removed the plastic seat covers the original mohair upholstery underneath was still in perfect condition. In the trunk I discovered one of those neat old, pre air-conditioning, bullet-shaped Thermador swamp coolers that mounted in the car window and whirled cool moist air to the interior.

The photo was taken on a drizzly fall day in 1971 out front of my old buddy Bruce's parents house on Oak Park Avenue in Van Nuys, California. Bruce works for the Post Office to this day, and is responsible for my having a postal career. Back in 1970 he talked me into taking the Civil Service postal exam with him even though working for the Post Office didn't really seem to fit in with my artsy-fartsy back-to-nature hippie dreams. But the starting pay was $3.51 an hour and I figured maybe I'd work for a couple of years, save some money and travel, or buy some land.

Little did I realize that the burgeoning '60s counterculture I loved, and was so much a part of, was coming unravelled, and that the world would very soon be a much harder edged place.

On March 8th of 1971 I began working for the United States Post Office Department at the Woodland Hills station (91364) as a Special Delivery Messenger (the patches on our linen shirts bore the image of a Pony Express rider embroidered in maroon and blue). Thirty years later, in July of 2001, I retired at $20 an hour, from the "modernized" U.S. Postal Service, Big Bear Lake station (92315), where I was the main window clerk (the patch on my polyester shirt was an ugly stylized Eagle's head in red, white, blue, and gold, meant to signify speedy service).

Much of those 30 years was spent outside delivering mail through rain, sleet, snow, heat, and dark of night, because that's the way it was done back then. In 1971 a postage stamp cost 6 cents and we delivered Special Delivery letters & packages up until 9 o'clock at night, seven days a week, for an additional 45 cent fee. In 2001 a stamp cost 33 cents and there was no longer a Special Delivery service, but you could pick up your $11.75 Sunday delivery Express Mail at the Post Office between the hours of 12 & 2 P.M., if you remembered to bring your identification.

Along with a modicum of affluence usually comes some consumerism, so in 1972, to demonstrate my environmentalist leanings, I spent $2,000 on a new, very small and economical 4 cylinder imported Datsun pick-up truck, and regretfully, sold the old Studebaker to a friend for $250.

Four years later, another much-loved Beat Generation artist from Topanga, a mentor to George Herms, my friend Wallace Berman, was killed in a head-on collision in a little Datsun truck just like mine, leaving his lovely wife and young son behind.

Years later, in 1990, when we needed a family car, we decided on a Toyota 4-Runner, at $21,000, because I wanted something sturdy that my family might be relatively safe in, it was our last car. Peggy was broadsided at a blind intersection in 1996 by a kid going about 60 miles an hour, and a beefy frame crossmember in the Toyota saved her life. Soon after the 4-Runner was repaired we sold it, on January 31st, 1997, and now we've been car-free for nearly 10 years. We didn't want to be in them anymore.

Then, on August 29th of last year, at the same time Hurricane Katrina was battering New Orleans, our 24 year old son Jimmy drove another sturdy Toyota 4X4 over a 450 foot cliff, an accident which left him legally blind, but that thankfully, he survived. Still, Peggy and I, again had to spend many dreaded hours in rented or borrowed cars to visit Jimmy in the hospital and get him to his medical appointments, but that too has now passed...

Looking at the handsome old Studebaker it's easy to understand how we Americans became enamored with our automobiles.

But at this point, in light of the realities of todays world; the global warming and climate change brought on by a hundred years of internal combustion engines, the urban sprawl, the freeways and congestion generated by automobiles, the asphalted, concreted, plasticized, polluted, smoggy filth of our civilization, and the oil & resource wars we must now wage to sustain it all (not to mention the nearly four million people dead from U.S. auto accidents), you'd think we'd be realizing there are not going to be automobiles in our future, if we are to have one.

They've certainly lost their appeal in my eyes.

In fact I've come to detest the damned things, they're an expensive, dangerous, destructive, odious, abhorrent, abominable scourge upon the land and I'd love to see them all vanish today.

What we've gained from the convenience of automobiles, for me, is not worth what we're losing in the quality of life, or the health of our ecosystem. If we won't give the cars up; hybrid, electric, hydrogen-powered, bio-fueled, or whatever, I seriously doubt there will be many human eyes left to behold the sunsets and trees of the 22nd Century.

The automobile and its infrastructure is, in my opinion, our biggest mess, aside from, and exacerbated by, our overpopulation of the planet. Clean running efficient cars won't address traffic congestion, or sprawl, and something like 60% of the pollution generated in a cars lifetime is produced during the manufacturing processes.

Here's an excerpt from my favorite Dr. Seuss book, The Lorax.

"What's more," snapped the Lorax. (His dander was up.)

"Let me say a few words about Gluppity-Glupp.

Your machinery chugs on, day and night without stop
making Gluppity Glupp. Also Schloppity-Schlopp.

And what do you do with this leftover goo?

I'll show you. You dirty old Once-ler man you!

You're glumping the pond where the Humming-Fish hummed!
No more can they hum, for their gills are all gummed.
So I'm sending them off. Oh, their future is dreary.
They'll walk on their fins and get woefully weary
in search of some water that isn't so smeary."

And then I got mad.
I got terribly mad.
I yelled at the Lorax, "Now listen here, Dad!
All you do is yap-yap and say, Bad! Bad! Bad! Bad!
Well, I have my rights, sir, and I'm telling you
I intend to go on doing just what I do!
And for your information, you Lorax, I'm figgering

on biggering

and BIGGERING

and BIGGERING

and BIGGERING,

turning More Truffula Trees into Thneeds
which everyone, EVERYONE, EVERYONE NEEDS!"

And at that very moment, we heard a loud whack!
From outside in the fields came a sickening smack
of an axe on a tree. Then we heard the tree fall.
The very last Truffula Tree of them all!

Oftentimes I feel like the Lorax, and, in fact, I'm beginning to look like him too...

...funny how one thing leads to another; sunset to Studebaker to career to tragedy to Loraxish ranting.
:~ {{{{{{

addendum -

In referring to George Herms and Wallace Berman I realize many people are not well versed in Beat Generation notables, but most of you have probably owned a picture of Wallace. He was honored by the Beatles in being chosen as one of the people for the group photo collage on the cover of their 'Sgt. Pepper' album.

And Wally greatly honored me by hanging one of my drawings on a wall in his home.
OK, so what if it was the bathroom wall above the roll of paper next to the toilet?
What better place to contemplate art?