Thursday, April 30, 2020

A Voice from the past Paul Whitehead reminisces


FM Paul Whitehead
Early Chess Stories, Part 5

- A rambling account of my adolescent and pre-adolescent chess experiences –

Sometime in the Summer of 1976 a remarkable fellow named Peter Andrews opened up a “Chess Salon” just a few doors up from the Meat Market Coffeehouse on 24th Street.  Coming out of nowhere, Fiddler’s Green was a unique addition to the already thriving San Francisco Bay Area chess scene.  One of the “Founding Fathers” of Cal-Chess, Andrew’s goals were ambitious.  This newly minted “Czar of San Francisco Chess” ran tournaments, organized classes and simuls, all the while selling books and coffee from “noon to midnight” out of the coziest place to push wood on the West Coast.  There was a fireplace!

I remember Peter Andrews with much fondness.  A classic intellectual bon-vivant with a twinkly smile, he always had a glass of white wine and a cigarette in one hand.  On his other arm would be a beautiful woman (or two).

During the short time of its existence – less than a year - Fiddler’s Green ended up playing an outsize role in my life.  My first job was there, as Peter hired me as the “chess-pro”. I learned how to keep the coffee-pot going while selling an occasional book or giving lessons.  Offering regular blitz tournaments and nice prizes (as well as a Women’s Invitational!), Fiddler’s Green attracted the top players in the Bay Area, giving me fabulous opportunity to improve.  Ex-Soviet Grandmasters Anatoly Lein and Leonid Shamkovitch played there on their 1st West Coast Tour. Walter Browne and Roy Ervin, Elliott Winslow and Michael Walder, John Grefe and Jeremy Silman, Jay Whitehead and Steve Brandwein – all of these players, and many more besides, passed through its doors. One of the more outstanding events held there was a San Francisco vs Berkeley match, won by San Francisco, 38 – 26.

My day would begin waking up in the empty house on Carl Street in the Haight (my brother at school, my parents at work). After walking the family dog, I’d then take a much longer walk up over Ashbury Heights and Upper Market Street, dipping down eventually into Noe Valley.  I had friends there, many of whom I had met at the Meat Market Coffeehouse, and there was a lot of cross-pollination between there and Fiddler’s Green. The same characters showed up in both places (and the Mechanics’ Institute). There was nowhere else I’d rather have been at the time.  I had ditched school altogether, I had just turned 16, I was working and hanging out with my friends playing chess– I felt free.

The things I remember now, with a rueful laugh:
- At Fiddler’s Green a pretty woman pointed out that the “tan” on my arm was actually… dirt.
- At Fiddler’s Green I had a terrible knock-down fight with my brother Jay – a bookshelf was toppled over, chairs thrown – yes that’s right, over a chess game.

Finally, this is a bit of chess history, yes.  But this is also my story, and a story of Love in one of its many forms - and very much of its time.
I suppose my commitment to full-time employment had waned, and after a time I no longer worked at Fiddler’s Green, though still making it a regular and important destination.
Peter had hired in my place a lovely woman, 29 years old, who knew the ropes of running a business – even if she wasn’t the chess player I was. 
I will make this short but for me, very sweet.  
One evening she asked me to stay after she’d shut up the shop. 
We conversed, but only at first… 
An unlikely romance blossomed, which brought strange looks and lasted quite a while.

This was all long ago, at a place called Fiddler’s Green.


(Included here are some games played at Fiddler’s Green Chess Salon)






Jay WhiteheadJames Tarjan
Fiddler’s Green Tuesday Speed 9/14/1976
1. e4 e5 2. Nf3 Nc6 3. d4 exd4 4. c3 Nf6
5. e5 Ne4 6. cxd4 d5 7. Nbd2 Bg4 8. Bb5 Be7
9. Qc2 O-O 10. Bxc6 Nxd2 11. Bxb7 Bxf3 12. Bxa8 Bxg2
13. Bxd2 Bxh1 14. Bc6 Bf3 15. Qd3 Bh5 16. Qb5 Bg5
17. Bb4 Be7 18. Ba5 Bf3 19. Rc1 f6 20. Bxc7 Qc8
21. Bxd5+ Bxd5 22. Qxd5+ Kh8 23. e6 Bd8 24. Qd7 Qxd7
25. exd7 Be7 26. Bd6 Bxd6 27. Rc8 Bb4+ 28. Kf1. 1-0.

Peter CleghornPaul Whitehead
Berkeley vs. San Francisco Match.
Fiddler’s Green 10/6/1976
1. e4 c5 2. c3 Nf6 3. e5 Nd5 4. d4 cxd4
5. Qxd4 e6 6. Bc4 Nc6 7. Qe4 d6 8. Nf3 dxe5
9. Nxe5 Nxe5 10. Qxe5 Qd6 11. Bb5+ Bd7 12. Bxd7+ Qxd7
13. O-O Bd6 14. Qxg7 O-O-O 15. Qd4 Rhg8 16. Qxa7 Qc6
17. g3 Bc5 18. Qa5 Rg4 19. Na3 Rdg8 20. Nb5 Rxg3+
21. hxg3 Rxg3+ 22. Kh2 Rg2+ 23. Kh3 Rg6 24. f3 e5
25. c4 Rh6+ 26. Bxh6 Qxh6+ 27. Kg4 Qg6+ 28. Kh4 Be7+
29. Kh3 Nf4+ 30. Kh2 Qg2#

Jeremy SilmanPeter Cleghorn
Berkeley vs. San Francisco Match.
Fiddler’s Green 10/6/1976
1. e4 e5 2. Nf3 Nc6 3. Bb5 a6 4. Ba4 Nf6
5. O-O Nxe4 6. d4 b5 7. Bb3 d5 8. dxe5 Be6
9. Qe2 Be7 10. Rd1 Na5 11. Nd4 O-O 12. f3 Nc5
13. f4 Ncxb3 14. axb3 c5 15. Nxe6 fxe6 16. Qg4 Rf5
17. Nc3 h5 18. Qh3 g6 19. Ne4 Qb6 20. Ng3 c4+
21. Kh1 Rf7 22. Rxa5 Qxa5 23. Qxe6 cxb3 24. Qxg6+ Rg7
25. Qe6+ Kh8 26. Nf5 bxc2 27. Rf1 Bf8 28. Nxg7 Bxg7
29. f5 d4 30. f6 Bf8 31. Qf7. 1-0.

Pamela FordRuth Herstein
Fiddler’s Green Women’s Invitational
San Francisco, 8/29/1976
                                               1. e4 e6 2. d4 d5 3. exd5 exd5 4. Nf3 Bd6
5. c4 dxc4 6. Bxc4 Nf6 7. O-O O-O 8. Bg5 Bg4
9. Qb3 Nc6 10. Nbd2 Na5 11. Qc3 Nxc4 12. Nxc4 Ne4
13. Bxd8 Nxc3 14. bxc3 Raxd8 15. Nfe5 Be6 16. Rfb1 Bd5
17. f3 b6 18. a4 Be7 19. Ne3 Ba8 20. a5 f6
21. Nf5 Rfe8 22. axb6 axb6 23. Nd3 Bf8 24. Ra7 Rd7
25. Rxb6 Rxd4 26. Nxd4 cxb6 27. Ne6 Bd5 28. Nxf8 Kxf8
29. Rc7 b5 30. Nf4 Bc4 31. Nh5 Re1+ 32. Kf2 Re2+
33. Kg1 Bf7 34. Ng3 Rc2 35. Ne4 Bc4 36. Rb7 Bd3
37. Nc5 Bc4 38. Ne4 Rc1+ 39. Kf2 Rc2+ 40. Kg1 Rc1+
41. Kf2 Rd1 42. Nc5 Rd2+ 43. Kg1 Re2 44. Ne4 Re1+
45. Kf2 Rd1 46. Nc5 Rd6 47. Kg1 Kg8 48. Rd7 Rxd7
49. Nxd7 Kf7 50. Nc5 f5 51. Kf2 Ke7 52. Ke3 Kd6
53. Kd4 g5 54. g4 Be2 55. gxf5 Bxf3 56. Ne4+ Bxe4
57. Kxe4 h6 58. Kd4 h5 59. Ke4 Ke7 60. Ke5 g4
61. f6+ Ke8 62. Kf5 Kf7 63. Kg5 h4 64. Kxh4 Kxf6
65. Kxg4 Ke5 66. Kf3 Kd5 67. Ke3. 1-0.

Exploring some of the Catacombs of San Francisco





I am inquisitive by nature, my parents imbued me with the urge to quest.  My father also trained me to be a leader and a technician, which my college tutors reframed into being a scientist.
I was mostly living in San Francisco during my mid-life crisis thirties.  Single, secure in employment, earning too much money compared to the prior two years of graduate school in Tucson.  I ran across a once in a lifetime deal for living quarters.



The Stanford Court Apartments had had changed hands and the new owners were phasing out existing tenants over a 2-year period.
In the meantime they were offering one-year rentals at reasonable rates.  It was still steep – for me.  I enlisted my parents, who were visiting San Francisco once a month anyway and had been thinking about having an apartment in SF.  We agreed to share the place – we rented furniture, huge amounts that still rattled around in the place.
Probably 3,000 square feet.  Multiple bedrooms, living room, dining room, pantry, kitchen, maid’s quarters, multiple bathrooms.  An elevator entry area that we shared with only one other apartment on our floor.  A box-shaped, 4-sided building, 8-stories, two apartments to a side per floor.
After a few months of taking care of furniture and utility hook-ups and acquainting myself with the neighborhood, I became a regular at Blum’s at 11:00 pm when the Chronicle early morning edition hit the streets.  I did family dinners at Alexis.
It was when I tried to employ someone to be the maid, that it occurred to me to examine the maid’s quarters.  What I found was that they had their own kitchen and bathroom and an anteroom, which led to a back staircase.
I went down – I was third floor.  All the keys were made just after the ’06 quake, way better than skeleton keys, but still, old brass.  There was a key to get out and back to this stairway, and I couldn’t get into any other apartment.  There was an amazing openness when one arrived “below ground”.
There were two levels: B1 was the laundry and other machinery level, B2 was the storage level, where each apartment had several storage rooms for seasonal changes of furniture and the normal detritus of living an acquisitive life.
B1, to my great surprise, was alive with the hum of activity, people doing laundry, but also just congregating, fixing things, making dates for events, prepping for departures.  The corridors were completely open between the various upper apartment levels, that is I walked from my “entry point” all the way around a four-block corridor, with my side and corner labeled so I could find my way back up.  There were no elevators for maids, which included service men.  Stairs on the four corners.
I only wish I knew then what I know now.  It was an historical moment, and I was lapping up sundaes at Blum’s.  I actually went up once, to the roof top.  Boring to me at the time.  Fantastic views of the City.  Oh that I knew about photography then.  Why does it take a lifetime to acquire all such knowledge?
Steinhart Marine Aquarium
I had a bout with cancer in this era; Steinhart was one of the therapies in the end.
I was no longer a part of the lingerie store, but I needed a secondary outlet for my “post” mid-life crisis besides computers.
I opened a book store, ”Fiddler’s Green”, at 24th and Noe.  My partner was a classic book seller, disheveled, disjointed, and with a dog that was the carrier of all fleas – mother flea dog, appropriately named, “DOG”. Douglas brought 8,000 arcane books about Nazi conspiracies and WW-II weapons.  His books never sold – not online – not off the shelf – not by secret letters.  I last visited him in Fort Bragg on my way back from Hayfork.  I was a novel reader and not planning to go into competition with the big guys.
I started playing chess at the coffee house next door.  I would invite people back to the store, and eventually set up a few tables for people to play chess.  I added some chess books, then a few more tables.  Then I started subscribing to Russian and Latvian chess periodicals, and stocked more chess books, from all over the world.
Then I started a weekly prize money Speed Chess tournament and since many players from the Bay Area had come to know this place, it got to be a big thing.  World famous USCF rated players attending.  I became a legitimate tournament director and held frowned-on tournaments: women masters, fledgling masters, and youth masters.  USCF invited me to be the regional USCF director, next step national.
My Friday night Speed Chess tournaments had become legendary across the country and the world.  I formed a team – we challenged the New York City, Marshall Chess Club to a telephone match. .  It was a draw.  But soon thereafter Leonid Shamkovitch and Anatoly Lein, two of the top ten rated players in the world, who had defected to the USA, joined us. 
On one night, the US champion, the Israeli champion, a NY Tal-like street fighter, and these two world class champions, and seven others fought not for the $100 prize, but for the privilege of playing in that ethereal crowd. 
Twelve people, double-round robin.
Everybody had to play and complete 22 [5-minute] games, six tables going concurrently.










I was working too hard; a computer project manager full time in the Financial District, and a chess club and book store operator by evening and weekend.  My health snapped.  I developed a melanoma hidden away on my back.  I had recently started dating Gail and she insisted I have the mole biopsied.
Gail connected me with a holistic, Mill Valley health clinic run by Dr. Michael Gerber.  I spent a year under his care, doing every -ology there was.  Mediation therapy was essential, so Gail bought me a fish in a small bowl to watch during the day.  I visited the aquarium section of a local pet store and bought a few more fish and a bigger tank.  I did meditate with the fish, but the hobby of caring for fish also captivated me.  I started to visit Steinhart Aquarium and became familiar with all their displays.  By this point I had eight aquariums going; I kept getting larger and larger ones.  But they were all heated, fresh-water tanks.  I wanted to branch out into salt water tanks, ocean fish.  Steinhart had, as a  community service, a salt water pump outlet, around the back of the place.  Steinhart pumped in ocean water from 20-miles out for their own purposes.   In those days people saved those big 5-gallon Alhambra water jugs and I acquired a dozen of them.  I would go out to Steinhart once or twice a week to fill five or six.  One day, there was no pressure, nothing came out.  I went hunting around for someone to ask about this.  It hadn’t ever crossed my mind that this pump around back was a floor level under the public hallways.
I walked down this hallway and into a lab room.  There was a friendly young guy who said he was a grad student working there.  He told me the system was off for a while they were repairing something.  He didn’t know that I had come in from the unlocked loading platform door.  He said, “If you want to get upstairs, just go up any of the staircases.”  I did and when I got to the door and went through, I was in one of the viewing gallery rooms.  The lighting was dim, and when the door closed, it disappeared, to all appearances. Knowing now what to look for, I spotted many black on black, hairline crack doors.
A few days later, I said to my friend Bill, you’ve got to come with me to Steinhart soon.  We wandered the lab hallways, looking for Dr. Jones.

The Opera House
After the Stanford Court Apartments, I rented a little efficiency apartment in North Beach.  I hated it.  Rita talked me into buying places, two, on the GI Bill.  I did: 1615 Treat in Bernal Heights, and a 3-apartment building on Guererro at 18th Street in the mission.  I moved into the basement of the Guererro place for a while, but it was depressing.  Nobody wanted to pay rent and being a landlord didn’t work for me; I fell for every story, took food stamps.  When one became vacant, I took it – “to fix it up” – but I wasn’t a contractor either.  This experiment failed miserably.  I let the bank take it over.  I had no money in it – no Down GI loan.  But the Treat Street place had become vacant.  I moved in.
Treat is one block long and uphill, great for keeping in shape.  It was just like my first apartment in San Francisco on Telegraph Place.  I was poor now, starting over, but finally happy.  Completely unattached and care free, I socialized with my work mates from American President Lines steamship company, as well as my new found neighbors – Patty Hearst was a big topic at that time.
One Saturday morning I got a strange telephone call, “Peter? This is Bill.  I fixed the Triumph and I’m bringing it up to you.  I’ll be there tomorrow.  How do I get there?”  “Who?”, I asked.  “Bill, Pattie’s brother.  You guaranteed my loan on the Triumph.  We worked together at the UofA.”  Yes, he was the young man, a computer operator, who I hung around with in the UofA computer facility, while I was at grad school.  I chased after his sister Pattie, who never bought my spiel, but I was handy and took her and her 4-year old out to dinner, and her younger brother thought I was cool, coming from San Francisco and all.  I did nerd-tricks on his business computers while waiting for my time slots on the supercomputer.  This impressed Bill.
“O.K.”, I said, “Take the North Beach exit off the freeway.  Stop immediately and ask for someone to point you to Vanessi’s.  It’s an open-air restaurant and I’ll be having lunch at noon.”  He showed up, we parked the bike next door and had lunch.   He wanted a job, in the computer field.  I said I’d help.  We parted that day.  Months later, I got him hired at Crown Zellerbach, where I then worked.  He eventually gave me the Triumph.
So, Bill and I became friends – I was still at Treat.  We both loved music, both loved Chess.  I got to know all the street chess patzers.  Bill and I built a Hi-Fi speaker system – a top performance quad-amplifier system – over two dozen speakers.  I collected records.  We didn’t do drugs or alcohol; coffee was our thing when we did get together.
We each had private lives in this era.  Both heterosexual men who loved women and tried to keep them private and apart.  This was self-preservative, since we often switched women over the broader spectrum of time.  This occurred half a dozen times.
So we only “checked base” with one another once a week, plus or minus.  Often this might be Saturday night – girls’ night out for our partners.  Our budgets at this point, no longer able to afford to buy a house, did allow us to have a take-out dinner and often listen to the KDFC-FM radio presentation of the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra.  In those days the premier presentation was Friday night, at the San Francisco War Memorial Opera House – tickets only.  But the more popular performance was Saturday night, which was also broadcast on KDFC.
Bill and I both followed the Orchestra and their schedule.  Like I think Mary claimed last week, we could tell who was playing, as the virtuoso, by their unique styles.  I heard a critique many years later that claimed that what we all heard that was so different was their mistakes.  These old masters had been through so much, they hadn’t had the opportunity or time to continue to practice, so they all had their foibles, but everyone gave them a pass because they’d made it through the 30’s alive.
So we would buy tickets, and double-date, once or twice a season.  It was important for us, and the ideal was center lodge for best acoustics..  Time and schedules permitting, we would occasionally go down on Saturday morning and watch an open rehearsal.  If you know the music, mostly by heart, then these are a fine way to enjoy the symphony, especially to sauce out the guest conductor.  We each also tried ushering to get free seats.  One of my ploys when Bill couldn’t make it was to be the one to buy the two tickets, and then turn them in to the box office on the night.  Sometimes no one, sometimes a nerd, like me, and sometimes an interesting woman, which sometimes worked out for at least a dinner.
An equal number of times, however, we would be doing nothing, but listening to the radio, maybe wiring a circuit, maybe playing chess, and one would say, “Did you hear that?  “Ozawa is guest conducting tonight, and that was fabulous.!!”  And the other, “We’ve got 3-4 minutes until they hit intermission, can we get there by second call?” “No sweat, it all depends on parking”  “Let’s Go.”
And we went. We knew the spots that SF police officers didn’t tag, it was City Hall, lots of protected spots.  If we were early, there would be  crowds milling about – many people attend, often simply for others to see them attending.  The half-time break is an easy exit to still make dinner at a reasonable hour.  Forty percent of the crowd disappears on Saturday night, “for a more complete evening’s itinerary”.
Men threw their ticket stubs on the floor, into waste receptacles, or handed them to ushers.  They were of no value to them, at this point.  To Bill and me, they were liquid gold. Jascha Heifetz would still get 10% to 20% leaving after the intermission.   The seat #’s didn’t matter, once we were in.  We were legal, just maybe not in the right seats, we never argued – we moved.  We tried, though, for the best seats in the house.
On a whim, one Saturday after an open rehearsal concert, I said to Bill, “Let’s explore”.  I was his mentor at that stage.  And we went wandering, up higher to practice rooms and preparation rooms.  We went lower to set storage rooms for operas, so many of them.  How does the manager decide what goes and what stays?  My friend Alex used to paint sets for the NY Met. He adored Maria Callas.  I wonder if any of his sets still exist.
It was overwhelming – 2/3 of the space at the Opera House was not for performance, but for preparation and/or staging.  The movie “Moonstruck” always reminds me of the important focus on set arrivals and preparations for Madame Butterfly.

* * *
Twenty years ;later, some of these characters re-appeared for the Black & White Ball of 1991, held concurrently in several different City buildings including the Opera House .
That’s Bill & I and my daughter Patricia who is now retiring from being a professor at Notre Dame University in Belmont,  and a flight instructor at Palo Alto.
She has bought 200+ acres in Modoc County, where she is attempting to settle.  Bill made millions in computers and real estate and is now a Republican recluse.  I care for my cat and a few finches.

Monday, April 27, 2020

The mystery of the disappearing tomato leaves


The mystery of the disappearing tomato leaves
  a case of dietary preference
It was a hot, summery day, yet not past the Spring Equinox, when I visited Dorothy’s Stumptown Nursery, and bought my first 2020 tomato seedlings.
I was excited – surely Global Warming meant that I could start early this year – we don’t normally put tomatoes into the ground until June.
Two days later I noticed that all the leaves had been eaten from the tomato plants I recently bought.  Not the stalk, not the stems, just the young, tender leaves.
I researched the causes – over a hundred bugs – short of pouring gasoline on the bed and setting it alight, I couldn’t fight a hundred bugs.
These were in my raised beds, unlikely to be normal bugs.  I got another few six-paks from Dorothy, trying to rule her out.  Some survived, some did not.  The difference was where I put them: amidst other plants – survival, all alone – gone the next day.  Dorothy was exonerated.  It’s a local predator.
I suspected my cat, Peppermint Pattie.  There were signs that a small(?) rodent-sized body had been laying in the bed where the disappearances had been reported.
I changed my planting tactics.  I now always plant by other large, hard-to-sleep-by plants.  This seemed to work. The tomato plants were growing, even the old ones that were stripped of their leaves.
Now there is an outbreak of Snow-Pea leaf-stripping.  I try the same tactic and have moderate success: some survive, some don’t.  I rest easy thinking that eventually, even the bare snow pea stalks will come back and thrive.

Judgement of the Court
Pattie has been found guilty of a highly herbivore proclivity.  She has been given time-off for good behavior, and her keeper will separate the snow peas and the tomatoes from other plants, providing Catnip in their place.

Saturday, April 25, 2020

Saturday Night at the Symphony


Saturday Night at the Symphony on KDFC.  That’s what Bill and I used to listen to; and if it was good, we would dart down at the intermission and sneak in, occupying the seats of someone who left at half-time.  These days it’s ready on demand for live streaming;  besides, the seats are too close together – is it the end of a 400-year era?
Tonight’s uTube video, was Anne Sophie-Mutter – the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto in E minor, Op.64 - Kurt Masur 2014 Gewandhaus Orchester, Leipzig.  I still feel that older performers like Anne, handle these heavyweight pieces better than the young kids.  But reality is always proving me wrong.  BTW, Anne Sophie-Mutter is currently recovering from a bout with Covid-19, prognosis - Good.
I feel like I’m living in a Science-Fiction novel.  I love my new-found, HD videos on uTube, but I am already thinking that symphony orchestras will now switch to internet performances as their revenue stream.  Ensembles and performers were already fully adapted to recorded performances; they just need someone to lead the way to monetizing “ZOOM” type performances, where you buy tickets, 1-time or season’s, which entitle you to so many “seats” at the performance.  Good for the organizers that audience size is almost unlimited.
That’s great for Anne Sophie-Mutter who might now draw 100,000 followers for a single performance.  Another impact is shifting the sports focus away from the network TV carriers, to a similar scheme.  These guys will be looking for some way to mitigate the depreciation of their stadiums, convert halls, et al.  Which takes me to the next step.  When everyone is getting their entertainment from the Internet, and not live feeds; it doesn’t take a computer guru long to figure out how to replace that pesky $10m a year prima-donna with a computer toon.
And this gets me to the point of this blog post.  Why did we love, Bill & I, these rare beings?  Talented, dedicated professionals in their fields.  Musical virtuosos.   Why were we drawn to World class people?  Bill to Olympics, me to Grandmaster Chess.  And we both love tennis at the Steffi Graf level. 
I think in is inherent in all of us, every human being on this planet, to want to share those moments of victory, and the agony of defeat (to complete the ABC quote).  Even if we’ve only personally experienced a high school football game or band performance, or a school play or group gig, we share the anxiety of competition.  And the more things one learns, or even tries at, then the more sharing of that performance anxiety there is that one can enjoy.  Bill and I tried a lot of things.
The question is, “Can the ha(c/w)kers make us empathize with the “toons”?

Thursday, April 23, 2020

Venus Rising


Venus was blazing brightly in the evening, western sky Thursday night.  Strong enough that I did a double take.  It took me back to my college days.  I’ll get back to that thought.
But, is the sky a lot clearer now? – one of the good things about SIP?  We aren’t burning anywhere near as much gasoline these days.  I’ve seen pictures of Chinese cities that were smog-plagued and are now much clearer.  Is anyone recording what’s happening in American cities and rural areas. This has got to be a major talking point when discussing “coming back” next fall or even in the summer.
There can be no clearer A-B comparative evidence that burning fossil fuels is really a bad thing to do; AND obviously, we can stop.  The only “value” in ever going back is to Arab Oil Emirs and a few USA oil Billionaire Barons.  If we also spent some of those Trillions on renewable energy sources, the whole Global Warming thing might be controllable, as well as the latest CoronaVirus.
Anyway, bright Venus tonight brought back the Arizona desert and the clear skies of the late fifties, which lured in Kitt Peak.  I switched my major to Physics and Mathematics in my Junior year.  I look back now and think that physics was in its’ infancy in those days, so much has changed.  Today, through the internet, billions of people, most of the populace of the Earth, have a grasp on the existence of a planetary system, with Venus and Mars being our sister planets, orbiting a traveling Sun.  Only a few handfuls of people realized that 100-200 years ago.

Down to this - Cleaning glass stains


The Saga of cleaning out my wine carafes and decanters continues, mostly unsuccessfully.
Superficially, the wine wine vinegar looks more efficient than the red, or apple.  But neither of them did a thing to any of the 4-5 items I’m trying to clean of ancient scars.
I’ve had some improvement from tiny steel beads that rattle around inside the item when you shake it.
Better were the ceramic balls wrapped in a soft, spongy peapod-like casing, also intended to be shaken within the item.
The combination of those two above, PLUS half a dozen squirts of Windex, and a few drops of dish washing detergent is the only thing that has consistently made items cleaner after a strenuous session of shaking: up and down, round and round, back and forth, for 3-5 minutes.
Of the five items, I’ve cleared one today, as good as new.  There are two that are passable – after all, with red wine in them, no one will notice.  The last two have measurably improved from several of the above cited sessions.  However, neither are fit to be displayed yet.  One is soaking in an apple vinegar bath to address a specific  small, but bad patch.  The other awaits my renewed energy tomorrow to apply the above cocktail.  I have ordered more peapods and BBs, each under $3.
I can, by the way, recommend this above strenuous, but non-sweaty exercise regimen.  Feet, firmly placed and centered, in front of the kitchen sink; having filled the carafe, clasp each end firmly with a no-slip grip; then swing your arms  left and right, vigorously,25 times; re-grip and swing your arms up and down, again 25 times; and lastly, re-grip again and begin the final round and round motions.  This is an ab exercise.  Out and in., left and right, up and down.
The case for vinegar is an interesting Covid-19 anecdote.  Safeway was long ago out of vinegar, other than in small bottles for salad dressing – no bulk.  When my sister suggested switching from Apple Cider (which was Oleks Rudenko’s cure-all), to white wine, I asked at Bartlett’s, my local rural market, and they pointed to a shelf with two 1-gallon plastic-jugs and six quart-sized plastic bottles.  I took one of each.  When I went back two days later, Apr 22, they were all gone.

Wednesday, April 22, 2020

Lazy Days


It’s been a quiet week on the River.
Long days, mostly sun, dappled clouds,
  leading into slightly humid evenings, the cat

    splayed on her back to get maximum coolness,
       me moving slowly, sipping  a RR Pinot,
         while I rarely sear a NY steak.
The streets are mostly silent.
  People who are doing things, are heard blocks away.
    We are all fully aware of what everybody is doing.
      This is a small, rural, escape-destination town.
We don’t take kindly to the 2-residence sorts, who
  travel up from the Bay Area once a week to enjoy the River.
    They will become the downfall of the State’s SIP laws.
    They bring exposure to the SF Peninsula Hot Spots
       into our rule-following village.
The TV news has covered the impacts of CoronaVirus 2020,
  but a few local items: 
(1)           Dorothy at Stumptown Nursery is having her best year ever, both because of the early warm weather and the SIP policies leaving gardening as a number one home project.
(2)           Most River food & coffee purveyors have converted to take-out service
(3)           Safeway has become amazingly more efficient, but it’s no longer a pleasant experience.
a.   to Where & why does all produce disappear every few days
b.  resupply seems unpredictable
We’re moving into month 3 of SIP, is there an answer for why no White Wine Vinegar, or TP?

OK, a bit of unlaxing,
          a bit of CoVid ranting.

Now it’s time to disappear into the concert hall
  for a virtuoso performance.

Back Yard Vistas


I’ve cleared the East corner of Winter firewood, and can now take pictures from that perspective of my back deck.  
I can see clearly now across to my shed, with all my stored pre-flood books; 




I can see down to my raised garden box with tomatoes, peas, and a lot of vines, 



 and I can see along the railing, my perfect peppermint Pattie cat, strolling the catwalks.

The perfume of the Jasmine is so thick, you could cut it with a butter knife.   It’s all over the yard.  I took two cuttings yesterday and displayed them at my front door, and the scent has dominated the entire house.  If anyone wants some, leave me a message 865-9517, and I’ll make you a bouquet.



Monday, April 20, 2020

Watching uTube these days


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OOlc2PAiWUU
What a thrill it is to sit here and write about a performance that I can both watch and write about, while I am listening to it.  Tonight is the Brahms 1st Piano Concerto, played by the Baden-Baden Symphony Orchestra, and featuring Hélène Grimaud. 
At the opening, mostly the orchestra was featured.
It was wonderful to see German people, common people with a love for music.  Baden-Baden is not Berlin, and not any other great German City, so these are a cross section of a part of humanity that I love and have ties to.  It was nice to see these pleasing, happy faces.
I was always blown away, when I spent time in Germany, by the respect and dedication to music, both classical and beer house fun, that it seemed to me, all Germans had, and enjoyed.
Hélène is not your normal ingenue these days, with sexy gowns and presentations for their performances.
She is, though, one of these new performers that are flawlessly skilled, and completely dedicated to  their work.
How does a virtuoso performer memorize an hours performance like this without an absolute dedication to nothing else but this.  And then do it again the next night with a different  selection?
Like World Class Chess Players or Olympic Gold Winners, people like that are in a class by themselves.
I am now watching her wrap up the Rondo, and it is truly impressive.
This is spell-binding.
The bassoons in at the finale,
  a few piano trills,
    themes: clarinets, total orchestra, violins,
       majestic theme on PIANO.
AND THE AUDIENCE ROARS WITH APPROVAL