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Kitchen Table Kibitzing: Going Home [1]

['This Content Is Not Subject To Review Daily Kos Staff Prior To Publication.']

Date: 2024-09-19  

This past Saturday I attended a surprise 80th birthday in Stinson Beach for a friend I met when we both lived there nearly 40 years ago. The event was attended by many of her family who flew in from Baltimore; her children from Colorado, Grass Valley, Marin, and San Francisco; and three joint friends we both knew from the old days in Stinson.

Her son from Colorado had planned the whole thing with a lot of help from Kathy’s ex-husband, who did the shopping at Costco and ran the show at the barbecue which was held in the state park in the swath of green a hundred yards or so from the beach. It was an overcast day, though warm enough.

I arrived about 30 minutes early so had some time to chat with old friends and say hello to her children — i knew three of the four already. The older one was the perfect host and introduced me to the other family members. There were billowing colorful scarves and pictures hanging on the sides of a faded blue tent, several picnic tables pushed together. I walked out to look at the ocean for a few minutes.

“Here she is,” someone called out. It was just about noon and Kathy walked into the park from the Parkside Cafe entrance, accompanied by her husband. Everyone rushed over to greet her. She looked a little flustered but not overcome with emotion, as I would have been. Still, it was quite lovely.

The lunch was quite a feast: barbecued oysters, shrimp and vegetable skewers, chicken, and numerous salads. I nibbled and tried to strike up a conversation with some of the folks from Baltimore. Made the mistake of commenting that they must be pleased with their new governor. Turns out they weren’t and had nothing but praise for the Republican who had preceded Wes Moore. They said they were Independents. I turned away from the conversation and left the group in short time to walk around downtown Stinson.

Visited Stinson Beach Books, which was in its day a spectacular bookstore but now was scantily stocked with several large cardboard boxes opened on the floors. I had worked in the bookstore for a few months right after my daughter was born and recall well how well cared for it always was, often with a fire in the small woodstove cozying the atmosphere.

Next up, I topped into the Surfs Shop which hadn’t changed much and then browsed through Stinson Beach Market — formerly Ed’s Superette — to find it had transformed into an upscale market catering to a more elite and sophisticated clientelle. Leaving the market I was greeted by an old classmate of my daughter’s who gave me a huge hug and chatted for a few minutes. She and my daughter had ridden horses together at Vanishing Point Ranch when we lived in Bolinas. I told Taji my daughter still rode two or three times a week and she said she was seriously considering starting up again.

By now it was after 2 and I decided to return to the party and say my good-byes. Kathy told me how pleased she was that I had come, given the fact that we see each other once a week for lunch.

I drove back over Mount Tamalpais, once again feeling a painful and poignant craving for my previous life, mindful that I have left behind so much more than what lies before me. All of it so treasured.

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