Palm trees and paradise

“What do you think of all the palm trees that are being planted around town?” he asked.

“I like them,” I said,. “California is paradise. We’re the capitol of paradise.”

“But the way they plant them,” he said. “They bring them in full grown on a truck and suddenly we have big trees.”

“It makes sense of you think about it,” I told him. “Buildings go up in three to six months where it used to take a year or more. If they can dig a huge hole for the girders, it is good they are finally digging a hole big enough for mature palm trees.

“I know what you mean. I love the old date palms. They are rich and mysterious. You can look at them for hours, look up into their darkness, linger in their shade. If you lie down and go to sleep you hear pigeions coo. At night nite birds sing love songs. It’s quite beautiful. I know a guy who doesn’t care to look at date palms, but in summer he sits on the porch at night, or walks all over where the date palms are because he loves the night birds singing in them. He says they take him to another realm.

“Date palms go with old architecture. There are lots of subtleties. New palms go with new buildings – sleek and photogenic. If somebody sees a photograph of a date palm outside a Victorian, they will think it’s neat, but they won’t think of Sacramento as paradise. If they see a photo of a shiny new building with tall palm trees outside, clouds reflected in the glass, and blue sky and mountains in the distance, they will get romantic or poetic or something. They will think how exciting it will be to drive to work and see the mountains, take the elevator to the twentieth floor, then step into their office to look all day at the Coast Range.

“The sky has a lot to do with paradise. I love the richness of the blue sky and the dreaminess of puffy clouds when I look at palm tree books. I know our sky isn’t the bluest, but on clear cold days the palm trees and sky are exquisite. On those day I feel like I am in paradise.”

“So we need more?” he asked, “so you can feel like you are in paradise?”

“We need more,” I said, “because times are changing. We aren’t planting tall trees we used to plant like elms, sycamores, eucalyuptus – the trees that shaded us and made us famous.

“We need tall palm trees to give grandeur to our city, so people can get excited looking at our city from an airplane or driving down from the Sierras. We are planting hundreds of thousands of medium size trees to shade us and provide us with something pleasing to look at. Imagine how exciting it will be to see miles of trees beneath tall palms, especially when it’s windy and clear and the subtle slopes of the Coast Range are seen acroos the valley.

“This has been an age of having an image. Even more now with computer graphics and photography. We live in a paradise that also looks like paradise if we photograph it properly.”

“What you are saying is that image is more important than substance,” he said.

“Yes.”

We looked at eaxch other.

“But not to me,” I said. “I love to be excited talking about how great we are. I love promotional photoghraphs of our city. I want an office on the twentieth floor, not so I can flatter myself with self-importance as I pull into the garage, then strut past my receptionist when the elevator opens into my office.

“I want to take a long time walking up the stair well, put my briefcase down and look out from each landing as I come up. My office on the twentieth floor will be a place I feel lucky for what we have. I’ll love our city and rivers and trees and mountains more every year.”

“What about people?” he asked.

I stopped.

“These aren’t times of affection or enthusiasm towards each other,” I told him. “We will never love each other more. We need more trees. We need clean air. Then we can lose ourselves in the trees and the passion we feel looking at the mountains.

“We have a great city for people to be in love in – the rivers, trees, mountains, our weather. That’s an angle we have not publicized. I think we are afraid to.

“I becomer sadder as I talk. You’re right. It is a shame our beautiful trees, especially palms and the paradise they represent and the future that will be theirs, don’t make me attached to people here. I love our natural stuff more each year, but feel increasing emptiness – that something isn’t right with me, you, us, our city, our times.

“It gets me mad. Part of paradise in the tropics was people’s sense of belonging. We’ve almost got the weather. We’re working on our trees. But we’ll never have the belonging they had in paradise.

“Remember I mentioned the guy who loves to listen to night birds sing in date palms? That’s what paradise is like – birds everywhere. We need big colorful birds taking off with a screech form tall palm trees.”

“That would be great to see from your office,” he said.

“Yes,” I said. “Then when it’s dark and I’m the last one to leave the building, I will sit at the fountain until night birds start singing from old date palms.”

“All that passion will make you sad for the people you aren’t close to in your city you love so much,” he said.

“That’s true,” I replied. “When I listen to the night birds I’ll feel sad and lucky at the same time. I’ll feel sad there is no feeling of community. I’ll feel lucky I’m one of the few who has a view of paradise.”

Wedding in the garden

They couldn’t wait to get married. To let everybody know
We’re going to marry. Under the sun’s warm glow.

The invitation had caligraphy. A drawing of a garden
Love and peace to everyone. May this never be forgotten.

Celebrate with us. Bask in our love.
Following is the reception. Under the sky above.

Enclosed was a letter Some things aren’t meant to be.
We feel sad for those not as lucky as we.

See you at the wedding. Can’t wait to give you a hug.
It seems we’ve finally learned how to love.

The day in the garden they greeted guests with a rose.
Held it to our chest. Pinned it to our clothes.

They looked at us and smiled We make such a fuss.
We’re delighted you came to wish us luck.

We love to talk. That’s why this day is outside.
After let’s chat. Lie back. Gaze at the sky.

Upon the speaking of the vows silence came to the day
Please. Receive what we say.

Widening their arms. A glow filled their face.
Come. Promise us your embrace.

Each cannot do it alone. That is why we vowed ourself.
With this committment we want to be able to ask for help.

We in turn, promise ourself to you.
When you feel you need us. Even when it’s hard to care.

Wrap your arms around each other. Say I’ll love you till we die.
If it’s not true. Say you’ll try.

Release one another, gently as you look to the sky.
How does one express what’s happening inside?

Look to each other, gently as you shift with the clouds.
Come together. Put your arms around.

Gaze back to the clouds. See how long it takes to smile.
The sky is where to look for help to keep a vow.

Stay out as long as you need. Get your second wind.
If anyone complains say you need time to love again.

Look up with us. We’re so excited to be alive.
Our hearts burst with promise, beneath the blue and cloudy sky.

Friday, April 27

Dear Jim,

I’m writing to you using one of my new pencils I bought at an art supply store. This one is a 3B. I also bought a 2B.

I got tired of having to sharpen my cheap shit pencils from the discount store all the time. I’d sharpen them and the lead would keep falling out. Then the sharpener would get dull and a piece of lead would break off and stick against the blade so I could not use the sharpener anymore.

Now I’m happy. I’ll use the erasers on the pencils I used to write with, then throw the pencils away. Buying the new ones was a great idea. It’s funny how long it takes to do something I should have done a long time ago.

Today was a great day. It was sunny, cold, and breezy with a few clouds when I got up. It reminded me of the East Bay in Spring or Candlestick in the evening before the fog rolled in.

Then I took a bus to the South Area. It wasn’t as sunny as my neighborhood and there were a lot of high clouds. It reminded me of the Midwest. I kept looking out the window of the bus at the clouds.

When I got to the strip mall I felt as if I was in another world as I took the long walk from the bus stop across the parking lot gawking at the sky. It was so cool and windy I had to put my ski cap on.

All day I had the hee bee gee beez. I wanted to spend a few hours outside sitting, writing to you, and reading, but I would not have been able to write in the wind and I was worried that I would catch a cold.

I took advantage of the cool day to clean the shower and refrigerator. I hadn’t planned to use the computer, but since the weather was so cool, I knew I didn’t have to worry about the computer making the apartment warmer. So I turned it on.

What gave me the hee bee gee beez was that I kept thinking of San Francisco: North Beach on a Summer evening, the tulip gardens at the windmills in Golden Gate Park, being in our cool room downstairs looking out at the trees blowing in the wind.

It’s the magical San Francisco light that shook me up today. I wasn’t physically able to immerse myself in it – to really enjoy myself. I wasn’t socially able to glory in it because I have few friends and am not in a good frame of mind.

It would have been great to stand in the wind talking with someone I like. Even if they were oblivious to the light , I would have been chomping at the bit lusting for more light and magic.

When I wrote to you about the beauty of San Francisco and all the drinking there, I said that San Franciscans drank too much because their marriage and career weren’t close to having the beauty San Francisco has. It’s a double whammy. Their marriage and career didn’t have the magic that San Francisco’s light has.

All those beautiful views. All that magical light. All those broken hearts. Bartender!

What troubled me today was thinking of memories people have of each other on a day with magical light. They recall their spouse or their kid or their grandparent or brother. ”It was a day like today. I was so happy for him.” Then his life went to hell.

I thought of the look on mom’s and dad’s faces when my life fell apart. My magic and beauty were gone and after all they went through with you.

On magical days with beautiful views, it must have killed mom and dad to be with me.

That’s it for now Jim.

Love,

Dave