Dec
11
12-4-07
Liberty Dock is the closest thing to a village I’ve ever lived in. My Grandpa Max grew up in a village outside Cracow Poland in a one room shack with dirt floors and mattresses stuffed with straw. His mother bought water from a water seller and a chicken every Friday for the Sabbath meal. Our mattresses on the houseboat are Tempurpedic and our water flows from the lush hills of Marin to our tap, but minus the bone chilling winters and Polish peasants our villages are quite similar. The proximity of our neighbors is the same as Grandpa’s. You cannot avoid them if you try. You see people and they see you. For the most part this is a wonderful thing for there is no shortage of smiles and hellos on my typical walk down the dock. It can be unfortunate at 2am when you come up for a glass of water in your birthday suit and the shades are not drawn. Or when you hear the occasional midnight brawl between a neighbor and his ill tempered girlfriend. Sound travels very effectively over water. Or when another neighbor is so drunk he repeats at a sailor’s volume the same verse of the same awful song for ninety minutes while we’re trying to get some shuteye. All that said, once inside your place there is plenty of privacy.
Seeing as how both our families are on the opposite coast, the dock has become something of a family, and that family has taken a keen interest in our pregnancy and specifically, Jodi’s current bedrest. Neighbors have been dropping by with food, a kind word and just to hang out and pass the time. Lisa, our massage therapist friend, insisted on coming by yesterday to give Jodi a much needed rub and vehemently refused take anything in return. Tina popped over today with a pot of her homemade Sicilian red sauce with meatballs and sausage, then came by again with a stack of old books about the houseboats with wonderful photos from back in the day. There have been houseboats here in Richardson’s Bay for more than 100 years, though the major houseboat community as we know it resulted from the closing of Sausalito’s storied WWII shipyard, when the son of a water front property owner began buying up surplus boats, ferries, barges, and other floating equipment which he moored near his father’s property. This motley floating collection became a campground for Bohemians from San Francisco in the ’50s, followed by the hippies in the ’60s. A colorful collage of residents camped out in boats, built houses on top of barges, and converted ferries into houses. Basically, it was anything goes until the ’60s when battles with local authorities over the safety and legality of the houseboats began. In time, legal houseboat marinas like ours were created, and the houseboat community became an established part of Marin. Still, a bit of that closeknit renegade vibe remains.
Our next door neighbors Daren, Valencia and O, their darling one year old, dropped by later in the day. They chose the name O because a circle is complete and perfect, one of the reasons I use circles throughout my paintings.
“Its the first day of Hanukah, so we brought gifts” said Valencia as little O handed Jodi a beautifully wrapped package. ”When I saw this I just had to get it for you guys,” she added.
Jodi unwrapped the first gift and was delighted by a beautiful onesie with an elephant print. Valencia’s pure generosity and seeing the little baby outfit sporting my favorite animal made me emotional.
She handed Jodi her second gift, a glass baby bottle with a stylish silicon sleeve that Daren invented.
“Now baby can drink in style,” said Daren.
Jodi unwrapped her third gift, a wooden rattle.
“Wow, three gifts! You do realize there are eight nights of this stuff,” I said facetiously.
“Oh yes!” Valencia exclaimed. And for the next seven nights she brought us three gifts, each a special little something which said, “we got your back and you are not alone.” THAT is a village.
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