2010

Greetings!

I’m still writing this as of Dec. 19 -- so, my apologies if the card is late!!

A look back over the calendar shows the usual mix of art and music. The March trip to San Francisco included an exhibit of Cartier diamond jewelry at the Legion of Honor Museum-- a blinding display of opulent designs past and present. And a Wagner Society talk by Wm. Klingelhoffer (Co-Principal Horn Player with the San Francisco Opera) on “The Bel Canto and Wagnerian Horn Player,” was illustrated by performance and recorded selections

In June, I attended the Society’s symposium on Die Walküre. (I didn’t attend the actual opera, since I disliked the current SF Ring approach, 180º off Wagner’s story and characterizations, in Rheingold the previous year.) We also had a festive banquet at the Marines’ Memorial Club, an elegant venue, and we were entertained with a recital by two young sopranos.

During that trip I went over to Oakland to see the new (opened 2008) R.C. Cathedral, Christ the Light, with unique, impressive architecture, the design based not on the traditional cruciform shape, but the fish symbol used by the earliest Christians. This makes for an unusual-looking exterior (tall, but with the fish footprint-shape).

The interior is most interesting, with a huge curvedglass ceiling covered with natural wood louvers to filter the natural sunlight. More natural wood is used in a “woven” appearance for the road screen, and a large granite baptismal pool is near the entrance, big enough for a full-body-dip adult baptism.

Contemporary art is used for Stations of the Cross. One or two pieces of older art were salvaged from an earthquakedestroyed church that had previously served as the cathedral. In the crypt they have burial vaults for coffins, and small glass-doored niches to hold cremation urns and small memorabilia or photos of the deceased.

(Architecture buffs, take note: This is worth a trip. After all the ancient churches and cathedrals I’ve trudged through round the world, I was intrigued by this fresh design approach.) (Architect: Craig Hartman, of Skidmore, Owings & Merrill.)

In October a traveling group of singers from Russia(the Petersburg Chorus) gave a concert at our local Episcopal Church. Russian throats seem to achieve a unique type of vocalization in both sacred and folk music! A musical treat.

Good news for this Central Coast area -- the Performing Arts Center at the Cal Poly campus in San Luis Obispo began showing the “Met Live in HD” series of opera simulcasts this Fall (from the Metropolitan Opera, New York). I was thrilled to see the Met’s new production of Das Rheingold, which followed Wagner’s story and characterizations properly, yet used a lot of fantastic modern technology to achieve the effects. A knockout performance. What bliss to have access to those operas, here in the “remote provinces.” We will have several more of their operas up through May, when they’ll do Die Walküre --hurrah!

I became a tourist in my own count in October, for a hair-rising trolley ride up a winding mountain road on a cliff near the town of Avila south of here to tour the recentlyrestored buildings of the old San Luis Lighthouse, now an “historic site.” [It dates back to the late 19th century and ceased operation in the 1950s. Previous railroad tracks had been removed for their metal to be used for the war effort in WWII]. A volunteer group has been lovingly restoring the old lighthouse keepers’ quarters, etc. in period styles. Terrific view from a high cliff of the seacoast. What a lonely outpost it must have been for the keepers.

As for Sports (spectator, that is)-- I attended The Bombardier Pacific Coast Open final Polo match in Santa Barbara (end of August) -- terrific game! They had induced the Argentine “superstar” player to come this year -- Adolfo Cambiaso -- considered “the world’s greatest polo player.” A 10-goal rated man. He was fantastic, and another Argentine, Hilario Ulloa, a 9-goal man, who came in to replace an injured player, was pretty impressive too. What a gorgeous, fastpaced, exciting game!!

I also opted to watch most of the World Cup matches from South Africa on TV, trying to figure out why the whole world gets so excited over this game. It seemed to me frustrating to watch, since so little scoring is achieved, but the palpable excitement of the players and the crowds -- including royalty and celebrities -- infectious.

A major event of the year was my college class reunion/homecoming (Stanford University) in October. These are held every five years for each batch of classes (this year, they honored, e.g., 1935, 1940, 1945, 1950, 1955, 1960, etc up through 2010). This meant there were over 8,000 alumni running around the campus for four days! When my class met ten, and even five years ago, a lot of people I knew were there. This year only two people I’d known in my freshman dorm corridor attended. Some had other commitments, some (or their spouses) had health problems, and a few had passed on. That was saddening, but on the other hand it made me all the more determined to attend -- for myself, and also on their behalf, as it were. And I could touch base with people I’d known just by sight.

I stayed in my usual “bargain” motel in San Francisco (unwilling to pay exorbitant Palo Alto hotel rates). On thesecond day of the reunion, the friend who lives in Oakland and no longer drives, hired a chauffeured limo to take her and me (at 06:30 am!) -- so we arrived on the campus in grand style. The other classmate from our freshman dorm corridor came out from New York with her husband for the event. (See photo at right.)

My chauffeured friend attended only on the second day, so for the other three days I became a Silicon Valley commuter, riding back and forth on the train to Palo Alto, surrounded by people engrossed in their laptops, iPhones, iPods, Blackberrys, iPads and cell phones, while I sat in my quaint, old-fashioned way reading a print newspaper, or (gasp!) a book!

Addendum to 2010 Christmas Generic Letter for the “Roble 1-C Girls”

The very idea of a “60th reunion” is mind-boggling. How can it be that long since we graduated? Instead of still wondering “What do you want to be when you grow up?” we face the fact that we’re old. [I prefer denial!] Going back to the college campus at this stage becomes a pilgrimage into the past, a time for moments of reflection. What have we done, where have we been? Where are we going?

The first day, Thursday, started with 10:00 registration, deciding which of the 46 “classes without quizzes” to attend, and getting oriented on the detailed map to find my way around the campus, now so jam-packed with buildings that didn’t exist when we were students. A few old familiar ones, like Mem Aud, Hoover Tower, Encina, etc., served as reference points so that I didn’t feel totally as if I’d come from outer space to a strange planet.

That day I attended the “students’ experience” panel (several students telling of their diverse backgrounds and experiences at Stanford) and the “Why the West Rules” class and its following reception in the Humanities Center, which I loved.) (This Center is in what was once Bowman Alumni House, opposite the ancient Fire House.)

The second day, Friday, I had a very early-morning start with Barbie Judson, who came over from Oakland and picked me up at my motel in the City in her chauffeured limo, and we had a good visit in the car.

Most of the reunion/homecoming events were attended by members of all the 5-year-interval classes from 1935 on up through 2010--a huge number of alumni all over the place! Our own Class of ‘50 has dwindled in numbers, some of our friends having headed into that Great Beyond. Others were absent because of health issues. And so at our own Class of ‘50 Panel meeting, on the Friday, we were “family”--but a smaller family. I would estimate about 100 to150 people attended this.

Our most famous classmate on the panel, Sandra Day O’Connor, told us how she’d been appointed the first woman Justice on the Supreme Court: called from a very short list of eligible women to meet with President Reagan--never having been to Washington. They got on well with their mutual interest in horses and ranching (she having grown up on horseback on a huge cattle ranch). She also told us of a current project she’s into, called iCivics. Appalled by present-day young people’s lack of knowledge of our Declaration of Independence and Constitution, etc., she is promoting the reinstatement of the teaching of Civics in public schools. So she says to our assembled class, “I want YOU to go out there and help me with this!” (So get out there, classmates, and do it! See the website iCivics.org for more info.)

After the panel speeches, some of us were making a point of seeking out and talking with people we may not have known well, but with whom we’d had a nodding acquaintance in our living groups, classes or other campus activities. A feeling of survivors “circling the wagons.” An upbeat greeting and brief reminiscence - with a strongattitude of “Hang in there!” either spoken - or understood without words. Not yet the Last Man Standing--and determined to hang in as long as possible.

Someone came up from behind to greet me with an arm around my shoulders--I was so astonished I blurted out, “Oh, that tall handsome man from my Western Civ class!” I was just floored. (When were in that class, 64 years ago-- well, you know how we used to make sidelong glances around the room at the dishy guys--I’d thought this splendid specimen would barely have noticed me at the time.)

I made a point to remind another chap of how we’d stood next to each other for 11 ¾ hours in the registration line that first day as new freshmen, in blazing heat (the hottest day on record?), and how his humorous banter with his buddy had entertained me through that ordeal. He’d forgotten all about it. (He and his friend were looking over the course catalog at engineering classes, and came across one on Sewerage. He’d said, “Henry, I bet this course stinks!” I’ve been telling this anecdote all these years, and he didn’t even remember it. His wife, who’d never heard it, had a good laugh.)

Barbie Judson had not opted for the class dinner and left in her limo in mid-afternoon. I went to my class (“Barriers to Conflict Resolution: The Israeli-Palestinian Conflict”), then grabbed one of the golf carts Stanford was furnishing (with drivers) to help people get around the campus. Rode merrily down Palm Drive in the golf cart, walked over to the train station, under the underpass to Alma Street, and headed north along the sidewalk to the Stanford Park Hotel (about a 20-min. walk). This hotel, venue for our own class dinner, is just over the border in Menlo Park.

(I’d packed a lightweight red silk outfit plus some suede shoes and an evening bag into the tote I’d carried around all day, so I could change when I got to the hotel.)

Changed clothes in the ladies’ room, and waited in the lobby till the check-in for 6:00 party time. That check-in table was located in a sort of passageway between the lobby, the bar and the patio, and I sat in that area with my glass of wine, where I could keep an eye on people as they arrived, to see if there was anyone I knew. Sure enough, here came the only other Roble corridor 1-C girl, Ronee Herrmann and her husband, Norman Bank! (I knew she was attending the reunion from the list we’d received in our registration packets, and I’d left a message on her cell phone, hoping I’d see her.) So the three of us had a lively conversation, “after all these years.” I hadn’t seen her since the 50th reunion. We stayed there in the warm indoor spot because the cocktail party area on the patio-terrace was cold, even with overhead heaters.

When it was time for dinner in a upstairs dining room, we managed to get seats at the same table and continued our spirited conversation. A very enjoyable time, over a good dinner. I think the word was that there were 163 people at the dinner (?) - which would include some spouses of classmate.

Afterwards I walked back to the train station and commuted back to the City - not getting into bed till around midnight. (A long day, with a lot of walking, fueled mainly on determination and adrenaline) from about 5:00 am till midnight!)

So the next morning, Saturday, I was not exactly bursting with energy. Since the earliest Saturday train would not get me to campus in time for the Roundtable (see letter, and list at end of this addendum), I’d arranged to meet other friends (ten years behind me at Stanford) for breakfast. When they dropped me off on campus I spent a quiet time in the Arrellaga Alumni Center (VERY nice facility!) reading the papers in their little library - a nice peaceful retreat - until it was time for the “tailgate” luncheon. Since it was raining by now, this tailgate was in fact food served at an indoor location--hamburgers, hot dogs, etc., salads, dessert.

(Fortunately, Stanford had already designated alternative rain sites for everything, listed on one of our registration materials.) After the lunch I went to the string quartet class, -- yes, ignoring the football match! (I lost interest in football after graduation.) And thence back to SF - hitting the stores!

Sunday, last day of homecoming, the day I called “Golf Cart Central” to ask for a golf cart ride up to Palm Drive, it was rainy again. I went to my “Boston Tea Party” history class, and it was raining even more when we emerged from the basement site of its building next to the Art Museum.

Stanford had arranged a nondenominational servicecum-memorial for deceased alumni in Memorial Church, (which was held at the same time as my class. (I would otherwise have liked to attend the service.)

In a reflective mood deepened by the grey skies and steady rain, I sloshed over from the class to the Quad. How many times had we walked around or through there during college? Rough earth and a weed or two in those days, now tidily paved over.

I went into the church. Inside, acolytes were just snuffing out an array of votive candles on a high table that people had lit in memory of deceased friends. I got hold of a fresh candle and asked if I could light it, even if only for such a short time. I lit it from one of the tall tapers nearby, recalling our now-deceased Roble 1-C girls as they looked when we first knew them. (By maiden names, alphabetically--Jane Bush, Joan Maxwell, Marjorie “Tex” Miller, Betty Rahn, Sally Smith, and Elaine Walton. And a Lagunita classmate, Ann Thomas.)

There are some 1-C girls we’d lost track of completely, either since graduation, or since our 50th reunion, so I don’t know if any others have already left us as well…….

Sitting there, I also sent up some positive thoughts for those of us whose health problems and/or those of their spouses prevented their coming to this reunion.

A swarm of tourists, mostly Asian, was already starting to mill around the church, snapping pictures. I sat there quietly for a while, before heading to the rain site for the homecoming’s farewell lunch in a restaurant under the “new” Grad School of Business. Didn’t see anyone I knew there.

And so I wound up this busy four-day homecoming, laced with moments of nostalgia, hitched my “farewell golf cart ride” down Palm Drive, and rejoined commuters on the train back to the City, and the world of Today.