Oct
31
Fri 1-4-08
Sausalito
Our local "street" aka Liberty Dock
When the tide rose our boats late in the day Daren and I did the final tightening to our lines. Prepared as we were going to be for the evening storm, I headed off the dock to check on Jodi.
Liberty Dock is two city blocks long, sticking into the Richardson Bay like a crooked finger. Our house sits near the very end of the dock in the deep water on a cherry corner we call “The Golden Triangle” due to its social gathering qualities. On any given summer night someone is bbqing something. The deep water is preferred because you spend little time in the mud at low tide and it’s far removed from the freeway noise. It is a bit of a hike to the car and back though unless you forget your keys, this is actually a very good thing. It is this distance that creates the magic disconnect, for with each additional step away from the nonsense on land, one strolls further into the unique parallel universe of the sea. That wonderful salty scent. The squeak of gangplanks and ropes. The clang of rigging. Cormarants, herons, jelly fish, crabs, seals…all just around the bend from the Golden Gate Bridge.
From our couch we watch a lagoon filled with dive bombing birds each year when the herring run through our lives. We know the constant company of pelicans in formation and the sound of empty muscle shells plunking down on the roof after being discarded by a gull in flight. We enjoy a sweeping mountain view of the Marin Headlands with its fingers of fog scratching at its verdant brow. From our roof, a place I spend many a sunset with a glass of rose’, San Francisco glistens in the distance, a dear old friend and a source of regular excitement. All I really want in life is the wisdom of the mountains and the joy of the sea.
Houseboats come in all shapes and sizes. Regal ferry boats from the early 20th century, pugnacious tugs, WWII army boats from which balloons were floated with the intention of entangling Japanese fighters. 3000 square foot million dollar manses and tiny potato chips. There’s even a replica of the Taj Mahal owned by some hitter down in Silicon Valley who just uses it for parties. Note to self: be stinkin rich! Ironically, the most run down, skankiest house on our dock has the best smelling rose bush I’ve ever buried my nose into. There’s a moral in there somewhere.
As ever, it is the people who make the party and we have all stripes. Take Doc, directly across from us, the Medical Director at NASA Ames and a gent with whom I have a special bond, for he is exactly the same age as my father and I exactly the same age as his son. Spry and hungry for knowledge, he sees virtually every movie released on the big screen and probably knows more about the effects of gravity on the human body than any other living human.
Or Jan and Dickie, two world wide super badass protesters who literally took it to a whole nother level when they scaled the cables of the Golden Gate Bridge to hang a Free Tibet banner during the ‘08 Olympics this summer. Made every major news outlet in the world. You must check it out .
Or the Andersons, Bruce and Tina and their gorgeous kids, fourteen and eleven, who just got back from a five year cruise around the Western Hemi, home schooling on the boat and living the dream from Alaska to the Panama Canal, the East Caribbean, up to Maine, West Carbbean, back through the Canal, encore Alaska and back to the Bay Area. FIVE YEARS PEOPLE!!!!!
Shel Silverstein, the famous children’s author, lived on Liberty Dock. When Shel died, he left his orange hulled army boat to Marty, his old buddy from the beat days in the 50’s and go-go 60’s in NYC. Strangely, one often smells skunk when walking past Marty’s. I guess the sidewalk actually does end here.
Other Liberty denizens include nurses, movie directors, history professors, lawyers, teachers, finish carpenters, a retired parole officer, inventors, social workers, an old cop, crazy people, boring people, old people, new born people, dogs, cats, raccoons. And gardens. Gardens grace each home and reflect their owners’ temperment. Intoxicating Meyer lemons in blossom, succulents of all shapes, palms and my fave, bouganvillea, thrive. I shall never again live in a clime where Bouganvillea does not grow.
The view from the couch
Jodi’s room at the Holiday Inn, not surprisingly, was underwhelming, but at least it was on the ground floor, so she could take Oliver out easily (which she had to do when he woke again in the rainy wee hours to go out [damn him]). After dinner Jodi was beat, and I had to get back to spend the night with the boat, so I kissed my sick wife goodnight and returned to Liberty Dock.
It was dark as I strode down the dock, and the whole community felt eerie, tranquil and special. With the power still out our world was in shadow. The still water shimmered in the natural evening flickers of Richardson Bay. It was early and I was not ready to retire to my dark lonely home yet. I saw lights on in Play and Vera’s boat, but hesitated to impose after such a hectic day. Then a friend walked past en route to P and V’s and urged me to come along to the party. Play and Vera are both 30-something professional photographers, bon vivants and hip happy neighbors, always quick with a smile and a quip. Play built a Tiki bar on their deck and we often throw more than a few back there on a sunny day.
Their candlelit houseboat hopped with a vivacious group of neighbors and friends. Music jamming. Ice in a cooler. Wine. Beer. Food from fridges and freezers out to be eaten while still cold before it spoiled.
“This is how we do it in Detroit, when a snowstorm takes the power out we have a party just like this,” said Play.
Laughter and animated conversation punctuated the flickery ambiance. I poured a Makers and Coke and gazed around at the good people who weathered a storm that day and many other days; each glowed in nighttime sunshine.
The storm was merciful that evening and I got some much needed sleep.
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Comments
powerless and powerful are exactly the way i’ve been feeling for months. reading your words.. makes me hope for a future with the feeling of being everywhere and nowhere but happy to see and be apart of the world.