Creedence Clearwater Revival sang about a green river in the late 1960s, about barefoot girls and cool water, and it happened to be this particular river was Putah Creek, a mere sixty-nine miles from the city of San Francisco. So on one sultry May day we took our city slicking baby to this fabled setting for some bare-bottom bathing....
Turns out the water was aboutfifty degrees and fast flowing, so although the baby's bottom was bare, only her legs up to the knees went into the cold, green water.
Putah Creek is a lovely mint-tea color, clear near the shore, wide, and apparently full of good eating trout, or so some high school boys told us. Oaks grow all around, and cottonwood trees drop so much white fuzz on the trails it looks like snow.
We were fortunate to see a baby Pacific rattlesnake,well camouflaged among fallen leaves and dirt, and more fortunate that my husband, clad in sandals with big bare toes hanging out, didn't step on it. Only one or two rattles were on its tail, but babies are reputed to be fierce. With the high school boys watching beside us, it slithered away, whip-cracking fast.
The town of Winters is close by with plenty of provisions and nearby camping (we camped in a fig orchard the night before). The fishing area we hiked is in verdant foothills dotted with oaks and golden poppies.
Putah Creek would be great on an Indian summer day with a passel of long-haired hippies and a potluck under the cottonwoods. In the meantime I'll dip my piggies in and call it a party.
"Old Frisco with end of land sadness." --Jack Kerouac
Watching this footage of old time San Francisco (circa 1960s, that is) and hearing Jack Kerouac describe being here brings up two things. First, it makes me love the place, the history and the home the city is, the views I'm familiar with, and the many streets I've never been down, but hope to hoof with my small kid in tow.
Credit: flowerpicturegallery.com
The second thing this video makes me think of is growing up in San Francisco. Lately I've been having conversations about raising a kid in this city, which I think is a pretty good idea. Of course the landscape is great. There are neighborhoods and hills, ocean and bay, and all these lovely microclimates, urban farms, and parks. Composting and recycling are expected, and jackhammers are busting up concrete in a greening frenzy. The city looks lovely, in part 'cause it's spring and the golden poppies are stunners. Still it's hard for me--a country-loving city gal--to weigh a rural landscape against San Francisco's concrete and cars. But the best thing about raising a kid here isn't because of the landscape.
It's because of the people! It's a real candy box of humans. For a kid there's the chance to grow up to be who one wants to be, really truly there's an encouragement to fly your freak flag. Man, it's refreshing!
I just came back from international travels via Texas, land of Bush and God, which reminded me of the best part of San Francisco, the people.
I like thinking of some of the local kids I grew up with in the Eightieswho still are here, or just over the bay or down the peninsula. They're a big reason to stay--not just them as individuals, but each of them as a possibility for my own kid to become, or to look at and say, "Yeah!"
Credit: Sheryl Mayo
Sheryl was my friend from elementary school. She learned Native American dancing, which meant everything to her being Native American, and it made her blossom.
Terri is raising a real San Franciscan boy, spirited but sweet, like the boys I remember back when the Giants and the Niners were always winning.
Nikki, a hunky transvestite from Puerto Rico who liked to preface sentences with "Girl!" went to my high school. He loved being in San Francisco because he would've been killed back in Puerto Rico, he told me.
Credit: sflandscapes.com
Curly-haired Casey (who was my secret crush in middle school) now grows native plants and tends several farms in San Francisco; he can tell you about lupines on Bayview Hill and which butterfly prefers them.
Credit: metromintcycling.com
Aaron and Colin, the Dungeons and Dragons-loving twins from high school, have ridden their bicycles thousands of miles away from here, but still they keep coming back to this city.
Good old Andy's drinking beer in the Sunset District, writing stories about Old Man Kuo, and channeling Charles Bukowski. He's got a turtle named Turky, who can't spell for shit.
Credit: suzieferras.com
Suzie's singing jazz and dipping brushes in oil paints, meeting up with Thea who's been rambling around the country in a flatbed truck and living in Mexico, only to finally find her way home.
Greasy Seasonings!! You’ve been given the present no one can turn down, a delightfully impersonal blog posting--yes! This one comes from the kid behind Hill Babies. Instead of a bow-tied present, I'm presenting you with my goings-on! Who doesn’t want to read about a year in the life of a toddler? Grab the eggnog and hide the scissors, this year was full of fun. Have a lovely holiday, however you celebrate it, but don’t forget: axial tilt is the reason for the season! Love, G.
1 Baby + 2 Parents = Dearth of Friends
January—My parents throw a party for the New Year, and I’m bored to tears. I’m the only kid. What’re they thinking? Kid=family dog? Never! I'm sad that my best hiking friends, Henry and Iris, are leaving San Francisco. My parents take me on quiet hikes—I love the outdoors, the sunshine, and the smell of trees. But I have so few friends…
Friendship at the old toxic dump
February—Mom posts an ad online saying something like ANYBODY NUTS ENOUGH TO WALK ACROSS SAN FRANCISCO WITH A BABY?Lo and behold, there’s a passel of these moms. Suddenly, I have FRIENDS! Tabby, Maggie, Ella, Fiona, Leo, Georgia, and I rule the city—crawling and staggering from craggy, windswept Corona Heights, to the coyote haunt and hawk home of Glen Canyon, to the bird-filled flatlands of Heron’s Head in Hunter’s Point. Every time we meet, it’s a party in the sun.
Born to win
Gunslinger in a slot canyon
March—The coup de grace for the month is going to Las Vegas. I pig out at the buffet trough, throw tantrums for pie, and get dazzled by the lights. My folks have the nerve to find me a babysitter when Mom goes off to read a story somewhere (how DARE she not read it to me). On the best of days, I tromp about the springtime desert, exploring Red Rocks and the Valley of Fire. Before heading home, I ruthlessly poop on the rug of the casino-hotel.
The miracle of a wristwatch
Miz Lise of Vis Valley's Story Time
April—My first painting is done on ceramic pigs, and I make one for Grammy and Grandpa, and another for Tutu. Family folk, Peter and Rozell, come over for dinner. Rozell’s taken by me, and I’m taken by Peter’s wristwatch. How DOES it work? Other April highlights include “story times” at San Francisco libraries—I’m amazed by the silly adults who wear fuzzy duckling puppets on their fingers and whoop it up. I also ride on a bicycle for the first time, cruising through Golden Gate Park! It’s a blast!
Swinging with Grammy
May—What a lovely month: flowers blooming in the garden, bike rides on the coast, and outings with my buddies. Grammy and I don our biggest floppy sunhats and have a date at the San Francisco Zoo, Mom trailing in our wake. My parents throw a summer party, and thank god, there are guests my size and age, including new friends, Emily and Seamus, drinking milk and causing riots.
The first snowstorm of the year
The Big and the Little G
June—Get ready for THIS: I take a road trip to Oregon with my buddy Tabby, and on June 1st we’re caught in a SNOWSTORM in the California mountains. Double wow!! By the next day, the sun is shining and I’m hiking through hobo camps in the woods. Up in Portland I see my namesake, Big Genevieve, and Mom’s cousins, Henry and his new wife, Loretta. Good times, but don’t ask me about the barbecue! (I learned the meaning of the word HOT. No fun.)
August—I fly to JOLLY OLD ENGLAND, where straight off this ginger-haired boy woos me with sweets and ice cream as my parents drink at a pub. The folks and I head to Brighton where I meet two new friends, Joel and Ellis. We explore real castles and ancient battlegrounds, stumble across shingle beaches to the FREEZING English Channel, get backstage at the Royal Pavilion, climb Devil’s Dyke and hike on top of chalky cliffs, visit Roman ruins at Bath, and get lost in Leatherhead. I have a BRILLIANT time.
In the fish tunnel
September—School starts for me: part-time daycare at San Francisco State University. (I am that smart.) My old parents take me hiking in Marin, but my favorite hike is in Tilden Park with my friends. On another great day I visit the aquarium at Pier 39, which is awesome, but keep me away from the snip-snapping CRABS!
Turning TWO!
October—Hang on to your horses! I’m turning TWO! My party is a smashing success, and someone spins rockabilly tunes so me and my buds can do the watoosi and the hand-jive! I also have new friends, Naglis and Smelte. One day I ride the MUNI bus to Chinatown with my buddies, where I refuse to eat dim sum. I see a strange performance at the De Young Museum one night, party hard at my cousin Kekoa’s birthday, and toodle around the city on hikes. Awesome month!!
Puppy love
November—We drive to Los Angeles so Mom can read another of her interminable stories, and I fall in love with a gregarious and handsome young man named Jacob. He gives me my first toothbrush. We even bathe together, but don’t ask ‘cause I won’t tell! I meet two other boys in LA, August and Max. I’m like the belle at the ball, but my heart (and bellybutton) is for Jacob. Back in SF, my parents try to indoctrinate a leftist agenda on my impressionable self by having me serve soup at the local Occupy movement. Well I insist on being fed, too. We also ride in Critical Mass, a huge posse of renegade bicyclists that take over the SF streets and make a hullabaloo. November is such a full month, my mind is a-whirl … or is it puppy love?
No dental tools in my mouth
December—Every time I brush my teeth, I ask for Jacob. To my consternation, I am given my first dental appointment. Indeed, I bite a couple fingers. I walk out of that office like a bandit with a new teddy bear, two toothbrushes (one for Jacob?), and a kid-sized toothpaste bottle. WHO do THEY think they’re fooling? I will not go down easy.
The month is halfway over, but there’s some event called the Winter Solstice coming up, and I hear I might get buck-naked and dance around a Yule Log, howling like a tiny wolf. Yes, my hippie-at-heart parents are forsaking this other event they call “Christmas,” and so they’re bringing me to a cabin in the Oregon woods (and in the process breaking the hearts of my grandparents three, who I’ll dearly miss). But truth be told, I’m excited. I’ve never spent multiple days in the outdoors, I’ve only seen stars in picture books, and I have a new pair of snow boots. I’m hopeful for a grrrrreat ending to 2011—for YOU and ME BOTH! Let’s keep each other posted. Happy holidays!
Looking sweet but plotting revolt for 2012
Love and kisses,
Little G
My friend Emily
Just for a second I allowed this invasion
Bringing soup to the Occupiers
My friend Naglis
Me, Tutu, and Mom
Rest is good
Wagon riding in the UK
My friend Leo
I call him Ginger Nut, my short-term British boyfriend
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