 |
| Ukulele jam at the Free Folk Music Festival, San Francisco! |
 |
| Baby Jeremiah makes sure I have my ukulele for the musical journey... |
 |
| Baby Jeremiah just knows... |
Today I’ve returned to my sadly
neglected blog – rekindling it. Although I’ve written many words since my last
post, they somehow have not made it here to this place. The words are sprinkled
throughout saved Word documents and appear amid Facebook posts. And my “Free
Stubs” screenplay, my first REAL attempt at writing a screenplay has sort of
taken over as well.
But the adventures don’t stop, nor do the words, the stories
or the thoughts. They live on. And I found myself wondering – what inspires us
to write our stories or our screenplays or poems? What inspires us to run
around with ukuleles or other musical instruments and play music until the late
hours of the night? The journey, I believe, is different for each and every one
of us. So all I can do is share what inspires me to kind of remind myself of
where I’m at and where I’m going.
My friend John traveled with me. Unlike the rest of
the bay area, we could hear fog horns and a cool wind and swirling fog greeted
us as we walked down to Presidio Middle School.
 |
| Nancy, Mark and Becky helped me lead the ukulele jam! that's what it's all about! |
What an amazing time I had! And the memories that kept
popping up as we jammed in hallways and classrooms. On Saturday, there were
ukulele workshops with my good friend Janet Lenore, Swing Ukulele and playing
chords up the neck! Then over 65 uke players showed up at my ukulele jam! My SF
Ukulele Rebellion people helped me lead – Mark, Nancy and Rebecca -- and we
rocked through 16 songs! That was after a fabulous two hour jug band jam that
was so much fun! Even a dude blowing into jugs! All instruments. The saw player
stayed for our uke jam! Ended up jamming
in assorted hallways, staircases and classrooms until 10pm before heading home.
Then came back the next day via BART and muni
brandishing my 8-string ukulele, small Martin Guitar, and a backpack filled
with stuff – oh yeah and a music stand.
I got to finally get Blackbird down on guitar at Jeanine's workshop and attend
yet another ukulele workshop. And of course there was more jamming. Then the ultimate
happened, what I look forward to every year -- famous Beatles jam for two
hours. People crammed into a large classroom spilling into hallways to sing Beatles
songs in harmony even! A few of us uke players were sprinkled in the midst!
Nothing can top that. I sat next to Denise who played guitar and my good friend
June from Silicon Valley who sings so well. It was cool to see so many familiar
faces among the crowds of people.
 |
The hallways of Presidio! (photo courtesy of Rebecca Woo)
|
Then I joined some of my friends and walked over to the gym
I remembered so well (and I did not like that place much either – PE was scary
in 7th and 8th grade). I actually participated in some Contra
dancing when I got approached by a couple of guys looking for partners for
dances. There I was wearing my Sgt. Pepper’s t-shirt contra dancing! For once,
I was having fun in the gym at Presidio! I finally had to leave to attend a
Poetry Jazz Fest Reading at the other end of San Francisco with my long-time
writer friends Floyd Salas and Claire.
 |
| Jeanine and Joe and Gang run the FAMOUS TWO HOUR BEATLES JAM! |
 |
| me and Denise getting into the music!! she played guitar and I played ukulele! |
When I left, my friend Steve was playing ukulele with the
Contra band! I can still see him sitting there among the other band players,
strumming away…so into what he was doing at that moment in time.
As I dashed out of the gym and through the courtyards, all
these memories filled my heart and mind – about how I hated my mother for
sending me to this junior high school to begin with. I was supposed to go to
Hoover Junior High because that’s where all my friends from elementary school were
going – but nooo! My mother said it wasn’t a good school, so she used my Aunt
and Uncle’s address and sent me to this prison-like place they called Presidio
Jr. High – with 1,200 students and I didn’t know a soul. That’s sort of like
social suicide for an already eccentric 12-year-old kid like me. And I had to
take two buses and walk four blocks to get there.
I looked over at those benches in the courtyard. I sat on
those benches many times…
And I remembered a spring day in either 1969 or 1970, maybe
a week before school let out. Of course, it was cool and foggy as it often
is...for some reason I got benched by my PE teacher which was my final class of
the day...I don't even remember why. I was mad. sitting on this bench in the
courtyard where I sat with my friends and jammed on ukulele the other day... I
was always in trouble for something or other in PE and Social Studies in 7th
grade. So I sat there feeling sorry for myself when I saw this raggedy
paperback sitting close to me on the bench, obviously left by someone. I picked
it up, rifled through it and started to read it...it was "The
Outsiders" by S.E. Hinton. Well, I got hooked and engrossed with Ponyboy
and Johnny and Soda Pop, Dally and the gang...I sat there on that bench and
read the book until I finished it...the fog had come swirling in...it got
really cold and I didn't notice or care. the sun started to go down...the
school grounds deserted with maybe a few teachers left if even that...but still
I sat on that bench and I read the book...cover-to-cover. and I loved it...and
I was hooked. don't remember reading an entire book that quickly until then...
I even got in trouble for being late coming home... for some reason it's hard
to explain that you're late coming home cuz you're reading a book! that's what
it's all about, becoming immersed...
And that is a big part of what it’s all about. When I play
ukulele with my friends and lose track of time and space or write a story and
forget about where I am and why and everything around me reminds me of that
place, or that story. Or I cannot rest until something is written down – until somehow
the moments are captured through words and pictures.
 |
| Claire, Floyd and me!!!! |
So, I headed out on the 38 Geary bus making my way to the
lovely center on Franklin and Fell Streets for Floyd and Claire's poetry
readings, which were fabulous! It was a beautiful venue. I got a free ticket because Catherine's sister
couldn’t make it. Catherine is a wonderful violinist and writer and a close
friend of Claire’s and Floyd’s – it was wonderful to reconnect and hang out
with old friends. Beautiful poetry about music and protest, colors, acid, trips
Djangel Reinhart and Catherine's amazing violin playing with Claire’s poems.
Floyd still rocks even at 82, which he has no trouble sharing. Felt like beat
poetry relived! I ended up in Berkeley at Floyd and Claire's hanging out with
Geoff and Caroline telling stories.
Write these stories down! Floyd yelled at me. God I love
him. Floyd has been my huge inspiration for so many years.
My good friends Geoff and Caroline drove me all the way back
to Union City because it was too late for Bart. Geoff missed my exit and had to
turn around as we were all singing Yellow Submarine together in the car! Good times.
Then Yesterday I found out (via Facebook) that June 12 would
have been Anne Frank’s 84th birthday. I watched the amazing footage
of Anne Frank at the age of 12 – just a tiny snippet in the scheme of things, a
12-year-old girl looking down on the street at a happily just married couple…
 |
| Anne Frank (snippet from footage)...age 12. |
I was 12 when I rode the N Judah Streetcar down to 19th
Avenue in San Francisco and then hopped on a 28 bus which took me through
Golden Gate Park, got off and walked four more blocks to Presidio Junior High –
how dubbed Presidio Middle School – to face 1,200 students, back in 1969. I was
12 when I found that raggedy book, the Outsiders, on a bench – and then I sat
on those same benches and read many books – avoiding being attacked by
volleyballs and kick balls and kids who weren’t so nice, remembering the ones
who were and how joining the Choir in Ninth grade would change my life for the
better as I moved on to the high school further up the hill, following the
music which lit the way to success.
Anne Frank count not have known at that moment that her
words, her stories would live in the hearts of millions of people all over the
world forever – that she would be an inspiration to many. She had the courage
to write it all down, even while in hiding – to remind us with her words and
stories. I read her diary many times when I was young and even as an adult,
always captivated each time…remembering. Wishing that she had survived, but
knowing that her spirit along with the thousands lost at that time lived on
through this one courageous young girl’s words.
And, then last night I stopped by to visit Diane and her husband Fred who live in Warm Springs -- a part of Fremont. They write songs and Diane and I play ukuleles together and run the Fremont Ukulele Group. I was there for several hours listening to their stories of growing up in the area -- when it was all pastures, farmland and trees -- and just dirt roads. They showed me pictures of the houses they grew up in. Diane said she even rode a horse to school sometimes!
As I drove home, past the grammar school and community center Diane told me about, I tried to imagine what it looked like then, when they were growing up...like whenever I go to Niles and feel the magic of the past mixed in with the present.
And that, my friends, is what it’s really all about.
