LeBaron: Musings on why we get older but the world doesn’t get smarter
Some scattered thoughts today, strewn across a busy February.
One matter that comes in February is the issue of the day I like to call the Feast of the False Assumption.
That was Monday last - the 19th - celebrated with no school, no mail, no garbage pickup, etc. with the false assumption that it was the birthday of a president or two.
Honda had a radio ad last week featuring a child who wrote a book report on Washington and Lincoln and thought they were twins because they had the same birthday.
I thought that was really funny and I laughed aloud alone in my Honda - until the kid went off on the word “sales” and it disintegrated into same ol’, same ol’.
In spite of the fact that I find such denigration of our heroes odious, I can live with holiday sales. But I will never get used to the combined holiday.
Lincoln was born Feb. 12; Washington Feb. 22. Monday the 19th and all other combined observances are just wrong.
hhhhhh
We have spent a lot of time this month talking about the weather, which is all over the place - rain at the seashore, snow up north, not a drop of rain and temperature fluctuations from 80s to 20s almost overnight.
The TV weather folk appear astonished and have begun predicting another drought.
None of this is news to people who have read the history of the region. Our first county historian, Robert Thompson, wrote in the 1870s: “February is a growing month and one of the most pleasant in the year. It is like the month of May in the eastern States.”
But Thompson hadn’t been here quite a decade when he wrote those sunny sentences. Also, he was writing in a promotional manner, trying to convince more easterners to come and settle in this magic kingdom.
He hadn’t been here long enough to know beans about our February. He hadn’t reckoned on the rains, like the Valentine’s Day storm of 1986 that dumped 10 inches of rain an hour on some corners of the county and caused hillsides to slide that hadn’t moved since, well, 1870.
We’ve never been able to predict February. And just wait until you get to March!
hhhhhh
Thankfully, the bad news about friends and acquaintances who lost homes in the October fires doesn’t come daily anymore. We’ve pretty much heard it all by now, and are doing what we can to help.
And it has become increasingly clear that for every sad story, there is a happy one, like the account of the Heirloom Boxes and the joy that comes in them.
The story begins with Sonoma County’s Threshold Choir, which itself is a wondrous thing.
Threshold Choirs have one main purpose. They sing to people who are dying.
The founder, Kate Munger, who lives in Marin County, came forward with the idea when she sat with a friend dying of AIDS and, to assuage her own discomfort, sang her favorite song – over and over again. For more than two hours. It not only comforted her, it comforted her dying friend.
Kate, now in her 90s, is obviously a woman with organizing skills. She reached out to others and in March 2000 the first two choirs were formed, one in Marin, the other in the East Bay. Six months later, Threshold Choirs in Sonoma County and San Francisco were organized.
At last count there were 160 Threshold Choirs worldwide.
They don’t just sing. They play important roles in the lives of many people. Among their good works are the Heirloom Boxes. Members can donate items that have been precious to them, box them and ship them to choir headquarters in Marin. From there they are distributed to people who have need of meaningful gifts.
The “magic” of these boxes, if you like that way of thinking about it, was experienced last week at a gathering of docents from the Bouverie Preserve in Glen Ellen, which has a history with the choir, thanks to docents Eleanor Decker, Angela Morgan and Julia Clothier.
Bouverie is soldiering on in its mission to educate children about nature, despite the loss of its classroom building, dwellings and offices - just about everything except the home of the late founder, David Pleydell-Bouverie, and a house he built for author M.F.K. Fisher, which she called Last House.
The party at the Santa Rosa home of choir member Carol Lynn Wood honored 17 docents and staff members who lost their houses - and everything they owned - to the firestorms.
It was exactly the right time and place for the Heirloom Boxes.
As so often happens, inexplicably, the unopened boxes chosen at random by the guests seemed to connect, as Kate Munger puts it, “exactly the right recipient with the perfect box.”
A woman who lost her quilt collection opened a box containing a handmade double-sided quilt, another received a Waterford crystal champagne flute from the set she lost, the twin of the flute with which she had been known to enjoy toasts with her late husband.
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