Friday, August 4

Dear Jim,

It’s overcast today. Just like downtown San Francisco.

I’m sitting outside at my favorite coffee shop. I just finished reading an article about the 50th anniversary of the Summer of Love.

It made me ill. You and I hated the hippies. I have always felt that the hippies milked San Francisco for everything they could, then went out to make as much money as they could – and do as many illegal and immoral things as they could – just like the capitalists they hated so much. I know you agree with me.

You had a more difficult time with the hippies than I did because you were their age. They hated western culture. You loved it. They hated Christianity. You loved Catholicism. You read great books. They read the North Beach horseshit. You were sick because of what Vatican II did to The Church. They wanted to rock out at Mass or pretend they were Buddhists. They loved The Grateful Dead and Jefferson Airplane. You liked Glenn Yarborough and Ed Ames. They smoked dope every day. You were never drunk or stoned. They were promiscuous. You weren’t. They thought they were cool. You knew you weren’t and you hated their arrogance and hypocrisy. They thought it was their God-given right to avoid Vietnam. You felt guilty that you got out on a medical but other people had to die.

The hippies broke your heart Jim. You had nothing to be part of, even though you opposed the war and had the highest hopes for Bobby Kennedy.

You were close to Sis I, but you had nothing in common with her hippie friends. The Church you loved had gone to hell. Even though you had a great career ahead of you, you didn’t feel a part of the times. You didn’t love America. You loved baseball and you loved the family, especially mom and dad.

I remember when you said you wished you had gone to Berkeley instead of S. F. State. You said you would have been exposed to more interesting people. I think you meant people who were not from the U. S. The weather might have had something to do with it too. The weather at state is horrible and the campus was ugly. Berkeley gets lots of sun and back then the campus was beautiful.

In 1991 I went to Berkeley one Saturday – one of the famous streets near the university. It was like Haight Street in 1967. I was disgusted. I haven’t been back.

I haven’t been to The City, except to catch the peninsula train to Sis II’s, in a long time. I sure won’t go this year. The Summer of Love my ass. It was the summer of promiscuity.

I remember being on Haight Street before it got jumping. A buddy of mine and his mother had moved over from The Haight. She saw what was coming and wanted to keep her son from it. He ended up being a stoner and a drug dealer.

Anyway, he said “Let’s go over to The Haight and see the beats.” So we took the bus over.

I assume it was 1966. It might have been 1965, but I don’t know if dad and mom would have let me go that far in 1965.

It was sunny so it had to be Spring or Fall. It wasn’t cold. There were some guys with really long hair who looked weird to me.

We went into the liquor store with all the pussy magazines, then looked at Cavalier and Carnival. Remember those? I had never seen such a thing.

The guys with long hair may have been weird, but the neighborhood wasn’t. Just different. There wasn’t trash all over like in 1967.

I didn’t return to Haight Street until dad and mom and I, and maybe Sis II, took that woman from Ohio over to see the hippies in the summer of 1967. It was foggy as hell and all the slobs were bundled up and there was trash everywhere. The woman was astounded. Between the fog and Haight Street, she probably never forgot San Francisco.

Our great aunt and uncle hated the hippies, though they would never say it. What had San Francisco come to?

One sunny Sunday after dinner I went with dad to take auntie and uncle to their apartment on Bush Street. There was a concert in the Panhandle and hippies everywhere. We passed a hairy bastard just as he was letting go a humongous loogie. It astounded even me. Auntie was disgusted.

What’s amazing about the hippies and their getting wasted was that they did it in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. It dawned on me in my forties that if you live in San Francisco and have to get stoned every day, you are an idiot.

It’s not that I never got wasted. I did a lot. But I could walk for hours in Golden Gate Park without being stoned or drunk and marvel at the beauty. I could sit for an hour at the beach looking at the horizon and dreaming.

I’m naturally high. That’s one reason I have contempt for the motherfuckers.

One more story before I go. When I started gardening I was 30. One of my customers was 65. She knew I grew up in San Francisco.

After a few visits she came out to me while I was weeding. We started talking. The she said, “What were the hippies like?”

My blood began to boil. I put the trowel down. I looked at her. I said, “My grandfather had all the prejudices of his day. But he was honest. He went to Mass every Sunday. He knew he was a sinner.” Then I said, “The hippies weren’t honest. They didn’t believe in sin, but they were the biggest sinners of all.”

This was fun Jim.

In our next life we’ll live in San Francisco when it’s beautiful.

Love,

Dave

Monday, July 31

Happy Birthday Jim,

71 years old! I sang Happy Birthday to you this morning. Did mom sing it to you? Mom loved to sing.

Except for mom, we aren’t a musical family. I tried with the harmonica, but I can’t sing in key. That’s been one of my greatest disappointments. You took a singing class at state when you were in your thirties. You liked it. But I don’t remember you joining a choir.

You liked classical music but hated rock. I have tried to like classical music many times, but it really frustrates me. One movement of the symphony will be great, then the next one will be boring. It drives me crazy.

I like Aaron Copeland, the New World Symphony, On the Steppes of Central Asia, and a 20th century Polish composer who wrote beautiful church music, especially to the Blessed Mother. It was a thrill discovering the Polish guy. His music is very peaceful. Very transcendent.

We’ve lost our belief and faith in transcendence. It’s worse today than when you were alive. It’s not so much that the average Joe thinks God is bullshit, but that educated people think God is bullshit.

When you were alive somebody could mention God in ‘Progressive’ circles without being hated. Now Progressives are as intent on destroying God and annihilating religion as the Evangelical Christians were to make America a theological police state in the nineties. The Left has progressed from hating God, The Church, and religion to hating those who adore God, lust for God, love their church, and love their religion.

One of the recent popes said that even if there was no God, we would need to invent Him in order to make western culture value something greater than man or money, value something other-worldly. I said something similar to you. Even if there had been no Indians who worshiped nature and were attuned to nature, we would have to invent a group of people who did so we could set ourselves on the right track. You said to me when we were talking about The Church and Africa, that the reason The Church is succeeding in Africa but failing in America is that Africans bring their native religious sensibilities to Christianity while we in America have nothing spiritual from our hedonistic and consumerist culture to be ignited by The Church or to contribute to The Church.

I wonder why you left the seminary. I think you said you weren’t worthy to be a priest. But you loved the education. You loved chanting too.

It’s amazing how many seminarians and priests left The Church in the sixties. The Church had always had abusive priests and priests who had girlfriends. But after Vatican II The Church got swamped by the immoral modern world it was supposed to adjust to and save.

In the late eighties you told me about a guy you had talked to who had recently dropped out of the seminary because he said it wasn’t spiritual. I think the trade-off The Church made was that it would become less spiritual in order to be more relevant to the isolated souls of America.

The parishes said nothing about out-of-wedlock births, “We’re living together man,” and the increase in homosexuality. At the same time priests said to themselves if everybody else is immoral then we can molest. The willingness of The Church to tolerate or accept everything made priests feel as guiltless and shameless in their immorality as the rest of society did.

I think priests and seminarians resigned and dropped out in the sixties for a lot of reasons: there was lots of pussy to get; the self-discipline of the past had been dumped in the trash bin – just say no to guilt; maybe with the heightened social consciousness of the times, many priests and seminarians were unwilling to tolerate their colleagues having girlfriends and molesting; maybe the embrace of immorality and the increasing lack of spirituality of the parishioners made them say FTS. There were isolated souls like me who would have loved to have a spiritual church to struggle with, but the priests and seminarians who left might have felt The Church had lost its soul and had nothing to offer isolated souls or those who wanted to help them.

You would have made a great priest Jim – your sense of reverence, your understanding of how easy it is to sin, your patience, your love of God and His church.

I remember that guy you went to the seminary with. Everybody adored him. He loved everybody. He became a priest then resigned in the eighties or nineties. Even back then when I had lost interest in The Church, I was sick that he had quit. I knew he loved being a priest and that he was the type of man The Church could not afford to lose.

Jim, I love you. I miss you. Hug mom for me.

Love,

Dave

Wednesday, July 26

Dear Jim,

It’s been a sluggish day but I got a lot done.

I just finished talking with dad. He tries to be sharp by responding to me with phrases like, “That’s a good idea,” “It’s good you did that,” “You never know how things will turn out.” But after I finish telling him what I did today, he says “Well what’s new?” After I tell him what’s new he asks, “What did you do today?”

He sounds good but he feels defeated. He’s in his walker all day.

He can’t believe “things would turn out this way,” but he says he’s had a good life – “A great wife. Great kids.”

I feel sorry for him. I want to hug him through the phone.

I called him earlier today but he was riding with one of the home’s owners while she ran errands. When I called him again they handed him the phone. I said, “I’ve had a boring day dad, but I hear you had an exciting one.” He laughed.

I was telling him I have new neighbors. Two young ladies moved into the apartment two white trash used to live in. It was nice to hear youthful voices. I wonder how we will perceive each other when our paths cross.

I need to be lighter. I would love to walk in the gate laughing with friends. Walk up the stairs laughing some more, then sit and have a great time eating dinner without the TV on.

A friend of mine called today. She lives with an older family member who always has the TV on. My friend said, “When my ____ dies, I’m going to get rid of the TV.” I calmly said, “I bet you don’t.” She laughed.

Everybody has a TV except me. You didn’t have one either.

I talked with a guy dad’s age who can still walk and is not losing his mind. He referred to the kids walking around staring at their smart phones as zombies. Remember dad called the TV an idiot box? Well, smart phones are even greater idiot boxes. You don’t have to wait until you get home to be an idiot.

The other day I was watching a black and white movie from Mexico made in 1952. It was in Spanish.

I like old movies because there is not a lot of scene changes. The camera holds still for a long time. I am not overwhelmed. Like one woman said, “Movies like that give you time to think about what the movie is about.”

This movie seemed to have very long scenes. Finally I decided to get my watch. The first scene I timed was over a minute. The camera zoomed out, but the scene didn’t change. I was astounded. It wasn’t a great script but it was filmed intelligently.

It’s too bad I don’t like movies. I did when I was young but around 30 I started to become overwhelmed by them. Too bad for me because there have been a lot of great movies. A former friend of mine said I was missing out on a lot. He said there were great movies in the eighties.

When I came to town I was at Sacto’s first coffee shop with a country bumpkin friend of mine and her sophisticated girlfriend and the girlfriend’s sophisticated boyfriend. We were talking about movies.

The woman said her favorite movie was Julia. Her boyfriend said his favorite was The Turning Point.

You liked them both. I did not see either.

When I told the group, “My favorite movie is The Magnificent Seven,” they laughed. It was a great movie. The good guys won, then rode unhappily into the desert.

I hate artists and sophisticated people. Thank you for never laughing at me.

You remember Bonnie and Clyde. I saw it on a Saturday afternoon with a bunch of friends when I was 12. We lusted over Faye Dunaway and were enthralled by the movie.

I don’t remember talking to you about it after I saw it. Anyway, when I was 18 they showed it on TV. All week I couldn’t wait to watch it on Saturday night. Then I started watching it at Sis I’s. I thought, “What bullshit!”

I was very disappointed. I remember wondering how all the dumb ass critics and intellectuals could think such horseshit was great. You agreed with me. You said in your diplomatic way that they were just a couple of punks glorified by Hollywood.

Around 2010 I came across a ‘Great Movie’ book at the library. There was a photograph of Dunaway sitting on the set talking with the idiot director. Dunaway looked like she was 15.

Remember that Catholic paper dad and mom used to receive from the archdiocese every week? We used to laugh when the paper said certain movies should’t be watched because of the sex and violence. The paper was right.

Before I go. We saw The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie together. I didn’t have a clue, but you loved it.

How come we didn’t see something we would both like?

I’m running out of poop Jim.

Love,

Dave

Friday, July 21

Dear Jim,

Another tiring Friday morning. When I got home last night I wound down by winding myself up reading a used book that arrived for me.

I ordered it a week ago. It’s about art. It came in a ripped package and is signed by the author for a guy she knew. She wrote it in 2014.

She says that contemporary painting and sculpture are horseshit, that the successful promotion of abstract art and skillless art has been a great con job. You would agree.

We went to look at art a lot. I usually did not like it. You often explained it to me.

What I remember more than anything are the photographs of the Nazi parades at the S.F. Museum of Art when it was on Van Ness. The photographs were terrifying – thousands of people watching in silent fear as the hot shots walked up the aisle in silence with their uniforms and medals. Those photos gave me a better understanding of the Nazis than any photo of the holocaust or any book, and I’ve read two great ones, about the Nazis.

Another great trip was when we went to the new cathedral right after it was built. There was a sculpture of three of the Church Fathers. They weren’t walking or running, but there was an incredible sense of motion in it.

You thought so too, and there was Gregorian Chant coming from downstairs. Remember? Then we walked to the big window with a view of the Mission and you commented that the architect captured the purpose of The Church – to watch over the city.

That’s interesting because several years ago the parish where Sis2 lives tore down the old church and built a new one as modern for today as the cathedral was for the seventies. The problem is that it doesn’t feel like a church – it feels like a performance center. It’s great to be in. It would be great as an office or to see an acoustic band. But it doesn’t feel awe inspiring or otherworldly.

The old churches had stained glass windows that when the sun shone through them gave a glimpse of what heaven must be like.

The cathedral had a vista of the city we ask forgiveness from, Yo confesio antes Dios todopoderoso, y antes ustedes hermanos…, while we pray to God for the courage to tolerate and embrace the city so we can save ourselves in it.

But Sis2’s church. Well, the priest prances out from the side of the altar, walks across the altar (the stage), smiles and says “Hi everybody!” “Hi Father!” Then he begins a Mass that I can’t take seriously because he doesn’t take his function as a priest and the purpose of the Mass seriously. During the sermon he hopes his favorite team wins the game this afternoon.

Two or three miles from the inspiring cathedral is the church on 24th and Florida one of our uncles used to go to. The neighborhood and parish are Mexican. There’s a famous alley near the church full of Mexican schlock which all the artists claim is highly skilled and profound work.

The church! Christ. The church is painted showing the slaughter of the Aztecs by the conquistadors. It’s terrifying. I wonder why the archbishop allowed the painting. Did he not have the balls to say you guys are nuts; our parishes are meant to welcome anybody, not just Mexicans?

It doesn’t bother the white artists though. Six years ago when dad could still walk pretty good, I said let’s go downtown to see this art exhibit. Dad said sure so we went.

We walked up Powell from Market to the gallery. It was showing paintings by a famous San Franciscan.

The paintings were okay. What I really liked was the old building. I always like old buildings the galleries are in more than the art. The buildings have character but not the art. I would rather talk to the architect about architecture than the artist about art.

When we were done the owner or manager or docent or whatever he was talked to us about the art then asked us to make a donation. Then he gave us some literature and told us the gallery of white artists was raising money for the young non-white artists in the Mission. I thought, “These guys can’t wait to destroy us.”

I know now most white artists want to destroy the European tradition. Just let it flow man. I can’t remember whether we gave money to the gallery.

I remember the rest of the walk. We went a few blocks up, over to the Ritz Carlton, down into the Stockton Tunnel and then to Union Square.

I kept looking at the huge photos of NFL players at one of the stores. They filled me with wonder more than the crap in the gallery.

It was the best memory I have of dad. He enjoyed the gallery. We enjoyed each other.

I usually don’t feel comfortable in San Francisco. It’s really better when I’m with somebody.

That’s it for now.

Love,

Dave

Wednesday, July 19

Dear Jim,

It’s been a blah day. I’ve gotten a lot of things done but don’t feel good.

There are many decisions to be made. I hate my job but do not know what to do. The lights make me ill. You were one of the few people who understood my complaints. I’d love to retire, but I could not afford health care for the three years until I’m 65.

I’m sick. It’s incredible to think that the lights bother me so much I can only work half-time.

Yesterday I was talking to a woman. I didn’t want to ask her age. She could have been 25 or she could have been 38.

She wants to work half-time because the field she is interested in is too stressful. She was talking about the fast pace of the job, not the lights. But it made me feel good that somebody else is overwhelmed by work.

You hated your job too. I remember how depressed you always sounded when you called from work on Saturdays. The guys you worked with thought you were nuts for working part-time: “If everybody lived like you man, nobody would have a job.” Then you would get pissed off and say, “You guys can’t stand this place either, but you always buy the newest TV’s and stuff that makes you a slave to the company.”

A lot of times after mom talked with you she would be sad, “Jim sounded lousy.” Poor mom and dad – their two idealistic sons. We’ve brought them so much heart break. They must have thought a thousand times, “Our poor sons. They are so angry and unhappy. What’s wrong with them? They have everything going for them. God help them.”

They prayed for us. Did you pray? I never saw rosaries at your apartment or a statue or anything. After mom died I started going to Mass and I bought two pair of rosaries. One glowed in the dark.

Mass gave me hope for a few years, but really, it’s boring. I lost my glow-in-the-dark rosary. I have a one decade rosary on the table. I hardly ever say a decade, but I kiss the crucifix once in a while.

After dad sold his house we divided his and mom’s stuff. There was not much I wanted. What I really wanted and have is a carving of Jesus hunched over from carrying his cross. But there’s no cross, just the position of his hands to show where the cross would be.

I kiss Jesus’ head once a week. That statue speaks to me. I have a tremendous cross to bear.

I pray every day.

On one of my birthdays before mom died, she sent me a card that said something like To my son the dreamer. We were both dreamers. Both naive, but both able to read people and to shovel it if we had to.

We brought our parents a lot of grief. Too bad for them and for us we weren’t happy.

Love,

Dave

Friday, July 14

Dear Jim,

It’s a nice morning. I’m sitting outside at that coffee shop I was telling you about. Today there is no paper. The staff is courteous, but they don’t have the razzle dazzle the staff six months ago did.

I’m exhausted. Last night I finished a book by an English agriculturalist who traveled to France in 1787, 8, and 9. He wanted to study French farming.

I wasn’t interested in the farming, but in his comments about the French and mainly the revolution. It has always interested me.

I loved Tocqueville’s book explaining how the revolution came about. I’ve read articles about the revolution and some speeches from it. There’s a weekly freebie that ran three essays describing how the revolution set the foundation for communism.

I read letters an English woman wrote from Paris in 1790. On the day celebrating the first anniversary of the fall of the Bastille, there was a parade. Priests were forced into it to take on the role of women.

At noon on that day, a national oath was taken throughout the kingdom. Wow! That scares me. Did the Church ever require that?

In one city Catholics and Protestants took the oath together at one altar. How’s that for progressivism and reconciliation?

Here’s the killer. A few letters later she said at a cathedral there was a banner at the altar: Let us live free or die.

You know they were not talking metaphorically – live your truth or the Lord’s truth or else your soul will die. They were talking literally – kill the priests and nobles before they kill you.

One of the things she and the agriculturalist said was that the revolution was loud, filled with hate, and rude. Violent too.

The gentleman told about the time he was stopped by peasants because he wasn’t wearing a peasant’s hat that symbolized the revolution. He was afraid. He told them he wasn’t a noble, just an Englishman. They let him go after a priest came over and broke their rhythm by giving them an update from Paris. But they made him buy a peasants hat, then put it on his head.

Not securely. As he was crossing the river the hat fell off and he lost it. Then he was stopped again. They were meaner than before.

There was no one to save him except himself. He knew they would love to kill him like they did the aristocrats. He tried to tell them he was just an Englishman passing through and that he wasn’t a noble, but they didn’t buy it. So he thought, “Oh shit!”, then told them – Fellas. Let’s be realistic. Taxes are part of life. But in England we do it right. Only the rich pay taxes. They pay taxes on each window they have in their mansion. They are taxed on all their expensive stuff they pamper themselves with. In England rich people even have to pay a tax to help poor people. Isn’t that the way it should be? “Long live the people without taxation!” They all shouted YEAH!! then let him go. This time he made sure his hat stayed on.

It’s funny the peasants allowed the priest to interrupt them when they were interrogating the Englishman. We’re told that the people of the revolution hated the Church. I think it was mainly educated non-nobles who hated it.

At least five years ago I read that in France in small towns, people had designated seats at Mass. If you didn’t show up, “Where’s Vaszko?” People even had a place next to them for their dog.

One of the things I learned last night was that the Jacobin’s received their name because they met at the church of St. Jacques. The bastards used the facility of an organization they hated to make plans to destroy it and to kill and terrorize priests.

A lot of priests think the same thing can happen here. You know what Jim, it is artists and people on the left who want it to happen and would love to participate in its’ destruction. I am surprised that nobody in America cares that Muslims are killing Christians in the Middle East. I think that if ISIS blew up the Vatican, America’s left would rejoice.

I’ve heard about punks who steal statues from a Catholic church, then smash them to smithereens outside the church. The Church doesn’t like it, but tries to be forgiving and diplomatic.

The Church should tell its’ members that “This is something worth killing and dying for. If you see thugs destroying a statue of Jesus, Mary, or a saint, do something. They are trying to destroy everything you believe in – physically, politically, and spiritually.”

Oh boy. I don’t know what I would do. We freeze. “How can anybody do that?” But they do and they love it.

When a church is vandalized or destroyed, the media says the act is wrong. But the media never says we are a godless society and we need God more than prosperity or equality.

I don’t know if you would like our pope. He doesn’t seem to care that Western culture has been destroyed. The guy before him did. The artists and educated people hated him. I loved him. What an intellect!

One of the things the agriculturalist said about the French Revolution reminds me of two things I should have done. He said that the king and nobles did not stand up for themselves when the people and their hate-filled inciters called for a one chamber government and death to the clergy and nobles. He said that there were at least 40,000 nobles. They should have joined the army to help try to put down the revolution.

I wish I had spoken against the gays and the feminists in the 80’s. I should have said fuck you I have a great dad. I should have said you guys don’t understand that having sex with every asshole in town is the utmost in perversion.

You agreed with me. We should have fought.

Now I’m a potential rapist.

That’s all bro.

Love,

Dave

Monday, July 10

It’s Sis’ birthday Jim,

I imagine you and mom are celebrating and looking down with smiles.

I’m writing you from the new store that the natural foods grocer opened in October to replace their old one. It’s two stories and Lord knows how big. The poor staff has a lot of ground to cover. It’s exhausting even for the 20 year olds.

But it’s beautiful. So decadent. All the talk about living simply so others can simply live makes me laugh.

I’m up here in the cafeteria looking out on a state building that’s a lot less ugly than it used to be. They repainted it. But I’m in a good mood and there are trees to its’ left and a few trees behind it.

Usually I sit on the balcony but it’s really hot. After I leaned out and held the door open for ten seconds, I decided to stay inside.

The balcony is great and loud. It looks out on the freeway and three six story buildings on the other side.

It isn’t as bad as it sounds. Since I’m never on the freeway, I love to watch the cars going somewhere. I don’t expect to be travelling. Watching the freeway is a way to get a thrill.

And a laugh. I think I laugh because really – where is everybody going? Remember that time we were taking one of the new freeway 80’s on the peninsula and you said, “You can go anywhere, but there’s nowhere to go”?

So, I go into my ivory tower overlooking the freeway under the big sky, reading, writing, and wondering how much money people are spending to get to the mountains or whatever.

One time I was sitting out there and a young guy comes up and sits at a table. Then I look over and he’s taking kale or something out of a bag and starts eating it. I’m thinking, “This guy’s dedicated.”

I keep looking over as he keeps chewing his kale. Then a guy he didn’t know starts talking to him and he explains to the guy the ins and outs of leafy green vegetables.

I’m cracking up as I’m watching them, then the other guy leaves and I end up talking with the young man.

We had a nice chat, then shook hands. I thought wow, that makes my carrot sandwiches seem like kids’ stuff.

I think that was the only time I talked with anybody. He was the only person I’ve seen talk with somebody he hadn’t come in with.

The other day I was at a coffee shop that’s a dollar more per item than this place and other coffee shops. I like it because there are no homeless and because The New York Times is usually there for the customers.

Once in a while I talk with somebody just to try to acknowledge my and their humanness. One time a woman my age with her son asked me what I was reading. I told her, then explained to her for what seemed like a long time what it was about. The three of us talked for an hour and a half. Two weeks later she came up to say hi and bye. Pretty good, huh?

One of the things that bothers me about the world today is how unfemale it has become. It’s hard for me to describe or explain. There seems to be more women than men, except on the street. Offices are mostly female. Schools focus on inspiring girls not boys. Sex law and family law favors women. Churches have more female members and activists than male.

I always observe women at coffee shops who strike up a conversation with each other, talk ninety seconds, then go back to what they were doing. It seems very male. Nobody knows what to say man.

Everybody seems lost. It’s hard for me to explain. We are a very taut society. We were looser under patriarchy. Men and women had a place. Now men know their place and women are on the warpath to get everything their little hearts desire and to prove Nobody fucks with us.

Nobody … with us.That ‘s a great example of what I tell people when I say, “Women have adopted the worst characteristics of the male.”

That’s the best I can explain it Jim.

Happy sis’ birthday.

Love,

Dave

Sunday, July 9

Dear Jim,

It’s a hot morning in Sacramento. I just got through studying Spanish for two hours at a picnic table in the park. Now I’m in the sun on a bench.

It will probably get too hot, or I will have to go to the bathroom, so I’ll finish this letter at home.

One of the horrible things about Sacto is there is nowhere to pee. The City of Trees, but no toilets. I wonder what the homeless guys do and how much pain they have.

It’s convenient for the people who live around the park that there are no bath rooms in it. That means fewer cars on the street and fewer people in the neighborhood. Property values stay high. Their dogs piss on the lawn so I smell it when I lie down, but they are happy as hell that people like me who love and need the park cannot stay very long.

I need to be outside. I lust to be outside. You did too. Remember all our bicycling and walking? Especially you on your bike. You were in great shape and so passionate and obsessed. I was a tenacious rider, but I never had a goal like you did.

I haven’t ridden in at least 25 years. Even if bicycles were cheap, I wouldn’t buy one. I’d be worried about falling off because my reflexes aren’t what they used to be. I’d also be worried about getting the bike stolen. There was so much stealing when I was in high school that I’ve become jaded. Besides, nowadays, if you beat the shit out of someone stealing your bike, you’ll get arrested for assault.

You went to high school at a good time. America was still great. I went to high school at a bad time. I tell people that my high school class was the first class to receive a lousy education all the way through.

I still can’t believe the stealing. It makes sense, low academic standards and lots of stealing. Not to mention the drugs and drinking. Even though guys your age received a good high school education, the hippies did everything they could to lower the standards for everything.

One time at work a guy 15 years younger than I am asked about my catholic education. I started to get mad. I told him, “We hardly ever went to Mass. We didn’t read The Bible. We didn’t study the history of the Church. A history of the popes would have been great. They should have been proud of our tradition, but they rejected it.” He didn’t agree with me, but he kept his mouth shut.

Remember that wonderful woman I dated in the 80’s? We’re still in touch, not a lot though.

She was raised Catholic too. I was complaining to her about the betrayal of the Catholic tradition by the schools in the 70’s. I told her Christ, they didn’t have us read anything about the Church, but as freshmen we read the famous book about religions by Huston Smith. She said, “Well, they were trying to be politically correct.” They sure were.

The brother who taught the class was old. He had a grandfatherly way about him. Too bad he didn’t teach The New Testament. He could have told us the importance of combining love with defiance, and the importance of being willing to pay the price for you convictions like Jesus did and the apostles did after him. But no – “Buddha man.”

There was another brother, a guy your age, who knew European art and history like the back of his hand. I don’t know what he was doing at our school.

He didn’t have a way with us like the older brother did. We laughed at him. We did not give a shit. But he was brilliant. I regret that he could not relate to kids and that I wasn’t blessed with what he had to offer.

I have thought of looking him up, of telling him I am thankful for what he had to offer, and how sorry I am for myself and for him that I wasn’t interested in his great knowledge and passion.

That’s it for now Jim.

One of the great things about you is you loved the classics and tried to help me when I asked questions. You always encouraged me to keep reading and keep struggling.

Love,

Dave

Friday, July 7

Dear Jim,

God was is it hot today! I slept for almost two hours when I got home.

This afternoon I went to a class downtown about retirement. The teacher said that a lot of times people get fed up with their job then one day hand in their retirement papers during lunch never to return.

I like hearing stories like that. I’ve always hated work. I get tired of hearing people call me negative when I complain.

Even though people need to work for their pride and to not have the disrespect of others, there is no doubt that work is a soul killer. Just think how lousy we all look and how lifeless we are.

I walked home through midtown. Do you remember that Sunday we were walking in the heart of midtown and you said that Sacramento is the city of the walking dead?

It still is. There are blank expressions on most peoples faces. Hardly anybody smiles, nods, says hello, or looks you in the eye.

Even people with pets aren’t friendly. It used to be that pets broke down barriers between people. Now people have pets because they want them for protection.

Fear. Fear. Fear. It absolutely amazes me. A few Indian Summers ago I was walking home in the dark about 8. A woman standing in front of her house calmly said hello to me. She wasn’t afraid. I didn’t know what to say, but I managed to say hello. I was stunned. I remember telling dad about it.

There is something about this part of town – the pretentious artists, the gays, the New Agers and their progressive conspicuous consumption – “Aren’t we enlightened?” Not really asshole.

One thing has really gotten bad – the slobs. You can’t cal them bums. They are the homeless.

Under the freeway on 26th, 24th, 23rd, 18th, especially 26th and 18th, is scary. Not that anybody is going to hurt me.

It is filthy. It is incredible. It smells all the time and there is always old furniture and clothes and bicycles left. Food people give the slobs is left there.

Six or seven years ago I noticed that a dude camped on the sidewalk every night was awfully friendly to people. I said to myself, “This guy is asking for trouble.” Sure enough. Somebody killed him.

There are more slobs and more crap every day. I don’t exit through the alley near as much. There are too many guys going through the dumpsters and hanging out in the shade. I used to love alleys.

When people ask if Sacramento’s changed a lot, I say downtown was ugly and cheap when I arrived, now its ugly and expensive. I say midtown still has neat trees and houses, but it’s more Yuppie than when I got here.

I’ve always loved the light play in midtown: the old houses, the stately tree, the spaces between houses. But I’m losing my eye because I’m on the computer so much.

Our fear-filled society effects me too. Nobody is going to beat me up. But somebody might call the cops on me because I move slow and try to smell the roses, or because my eyes light up over a woman’s magnificent torso.

These are bad times Jim.

Love,

Dave

Wednesday, July 5

Dear Jim,

It’s been a great day. I got lots of things done and paced myself well.

This morning I went to a park to study Spanish. Now I’m in a different park in the evening to tell you about what happened this morning.

I was sitting studying a Spanish phrase book when two young religious guys said hello to me as they approached. They wore white shirts and ties and each young man had a denominational ID with his last name on it.

I said to myself “Oh shit!”, then politely told them I’m Catholic and don’t want to talk. I forget what the lead guy said but it wasn’t confrontational or corny. They asked me if I believed in Jesus Christ. I said I believe in God the Father and the Holy Spirit. I said Jesus was a smart ass, no wonder they killed him.

The two young guys were surprised. They wanted to hear more. I said he loved to piss off the elders and attorneys. Every time I read the gospels I cringe – This guy’s obnoxious, always imposing himself on people.

One of them said, “Give me an example.”

“When they went to the other side of the lake they ran into the nutcase in the graveyard. Jesus almost met his match. He had to touch the guy twice to get rid of his demons.
“But he cast the demons into a herd of pigs. Then the pigs ran off the cliff into the water and drowned. The villagers came and told Jesus to get his ass out of there and not come back.
“Jesus destroyed part of the village food supply just to show how powerful he was.”

They let me roll.

I said I love the Old Testament and Acts. “You mean Acts of the Apostles?”

“Yeah. The apostles were like young guys who just discovered the truth and put their hearts and souls into preaching it.
“They pussed out when they were in the garden, but after Jesus died they had great courage. Peter stood up and let the words come to him just like Jesus said they would.”

Then they said something about Jesus and the gospels and I said that I can’t stand John, where Jesus says that you know the Father through me and me through the father. I said that I don’t want to hear that crap. If I want philosophy I’ll read philosophy.

They never interrupted me.

I said, “It’s scary. I love God, but if you take the New Testament seriously, you have to wonder about Jesus. You have to doubt.”

They agreed. One of them said yeah, but Jesus is the spark, the connection. He connects us to God. That’s why we have faith in him.

I told them about being Catholic, how I hate having political opinions presented to me at Mass, that the people at Mass are there for psychological purposes, not because they love God.

They knew what I meant. They said the focus of their church is to help each other get closer to God.

I said it’s hard. They said yes it is hard.

One of them saw the title of my book then said, “Are you mastering Spanish? My colleague speaks Spanish.” So we spoke in Spanish.

It was time to go. I said, “You guys know how to listen. You didn’t interrupt me.”

We shook hands. Then, like Mexicans do, it took a while to say goodbye. We shook hands two more times.

You have to admire guys like that Jim. I don’t have the courage to approach people to become Catholics. I told the young guys that Catholics do not have the confidence to do what those two do.

It’s a shitty time to be Catholic. But those guys have me thinking about trying to go back.

I’ll write again.

Love,

Dave