Christmas spirit in Nashville and at The Farm

Last weekend we enjoyed Holiday and Christmas festivities in Nashville and rural Tennessee.  Saturday December 7, 2019, was the 92nd Nashville Christmas Parade.  This Christmas Parade has been a yearly tradition in Nashville since 1927.  Elaborate floats and giant helium balloons slowly went down Broadway.  Nashvillians lining the streets applauded 15 high school and university marching bands from nine states:  Tennessee as well as Georgia, Alabama, Kentucky, Mississippi, Texas, Pennsylvania, Illinois and Michigan.  I watched the morning parade at home on television and took photos from it (they are not too sharp.)  Click on collage to enlarge.

There were also mass performing groups of singers, dancers and choirs.  A group of 74 dancers from 7 different states came as a single team to perform as America's Clogging All Stars.  They learned their clogging routine through social media and came together to dance in Nashville.

Of course Nashville being "Music City" there were many artists' performances, mostly "country music."

Then the parade ended with a float carrying a waving Santa Claus.

In my last June post "Walking in my Nashville neighborhood..." I explained that my house is located in the Hillsboro-West End section of Hillsboro Village.  Most homes there were built in 1910-1935.  Hillsboro-West End has the largest, cohesive collection of early 20th century houses in all of Nashville.  The neighborhood is listed on the National Register of Historic Places and much of it is protected by Conservative Zoning.  In 1975 an association, named Hilsboro-West End Neighborhood (HWEN) was founded to preserve its character and enhance the community.  On that Saturday and Sunday they offered "A Holiday in Hillsboro Village," with 30-minute tour rides to see festive homes decked in holiday decorations, proceeds going back to preserving the neighborhood.  They urged the community to place lights and decorations outdoor around their homes.  I did not have any in Nashville so I ordered some and paid extra shipping so they would get to me in time.  I also volunteered to serve cookies and hot cider at the hospitality center before the start of the tours.

Early on Saturday afternoon my daughter and grandchildren came to help me decorate the house.  The decorations I had ordered never showed up.  As I was leaving to go to the hospitality center my daughter was driving to the village hardware store to buy some outdoor Christmas lights.  At the hospitality center cookies and hot cider had been brought on a long table but I was the only one there serving all the riders before their tour.  I was quite busy from 3:30 pm to 7:00 pm.  Then I met with my daughter and her family to take a ride on the "Jolly Trolley" as the horse and carriage tours had been sold out.  There were no windows in the trolley and a bit nippy!  A young country singer with a guitar lead the passengers into singing Christmas carols as we passed many homes decked in dazzling illuminations.

Walking back to my house after the ride I took more pictures of the decorated houses as I went by.  I almost passed by my house as there were many lights there and I did not recognize it.  My daugher had done well with little decorations and time.  My house is shown on the bottom extreme right of the collage below.

On Monday morning I tried for several hours to find out what had happened to my decoration package.  Finally I talked to a human who told me that it had been delivered.  I then checked with the delivery service and was told that it had indeed been delivered on Saturday morning and they sent me a picture.  I recognized the white wall and baby stroller from my next door neighbors (the ones who kept trespassing in my back yard last summer during their garage update.)  I looked and there was an opened package on their front porch.  The babysitter was outside and I asked her if it was mine - my name and address were on the box.  When I asked why they did not let me know or bring me the package, she answered that they were all busy people and certainly did not have the time to fuss with packages.  When I told her I saw them walking outside during the weekend and even going on strolls, she gave me a bad look  and said that they must not know my address.  Really?  Mine is the same street as them with just a number down?  I thought that the holidays brought the best in people ... well, not this time.  It showed pettiness and Christmas no-spirit, no kindness, don't you think so?

I did find plenty of kindness and friendliness on Sunday December 8th, 2019, at The Farm.  My daughter, grandchildren and I decided to drive to Summertown, Tennessee, about 1 1/2 hours down from Nashville where The Farm is located.  That weekend they were having The Farm School Holiday Bazaar with all proceeds to benefit the school.  My two youngest grandchildren attend one of The Farm School satellite campus in Brentwood.  My late husband and I visited The Farm several times to see our friends from San Francisco (click here and here to read about it.)  Their site says "The Farm is an intentional community of families and friends living on three square miles in southern middle Tennessee, founded on the principles of nonviolence and respect for the earth.  We started The Farm in 1971 with the goal of establishing a strongly cohesive, outwardly-directed community.  We want, by action and example, to have a positive effect on the world."  In 1970, 300 hippies from San Francisco lead a caravan of old school buses across the country.  They settled on 1,750 acres of land in Summertown, TN, and created a commune which has now evolved into an "intentional community."  It is the oldest commune in the USA.  The bazaar was in two school buildings.

For lunch we shared a small pizza.  While we waited for it the three grandsons were actively tree climbing.

They were still hungry, so we went to the kitchen in the Solar School that had been transformed into a cafe with beverages, desserts and more.  Live music was being played there by local talent.  My grandson ordered a large burrito.

Then we walked back to various rooms in the building where vendors from throughout Tennessee, Alabama and Georgia offered unique gifts.  Local artisans from the surrounding area also brought one of a kind stained glass, tie-dye clothing, pottery, plants, jewelry, knitted woolens, handmade dolls, hats, scarves, books, ornaments, posters with quotations and more.

A Santa was selling attractive photographs.  The vendors donate a percentage of their sales to The Farm School.

An older gentleman was selling little pewter figurines that he had crafted.  I bought a tiny camel to add to my collection.  I walked outside, looking at the solar school painted walls as I passed by, then waited for the family.

While I waited for my daughter and grandchildren at the Hippy Gift Shop, I took some pictures of the old school buses that had been stationed there since the 1970s (part of the 80 buses that had left San Francisco.)  They showed their age.

The Farm community, now with a couple hundred of residents, mostly baby boomers (some younger, some older,) with some having lived there all their lives, has survived and prospered as a free-thinking community.  I talked to more people there in an afternoon, all friendly and kind, than in Nashville in more than a month.  But it was time to get back to Nashville and get ready for my upcoming return to Georgia.

Recollection: Being in San Francisco in the 1960s - part 2

In late September 1961 I left my things with my roommate in the apartment at 1415 Larkin Street in the Nob Hill section of San Francisco and a few days later I boarded a Greyhound bus for Great Falls, Montana, to visit my boy-friend Patrick and his family.  We had met in France in late 1960, had seen each other on week-ends and taken a small trip to Brittany to the Mont St. Michel.  In the US, Patrick owned a 1939 Chevy Coupe and took me sightseeing around Great Falls.  I could appreciate why Montana is nicknamed the "Big Sky Country" as the sky there looked enormous.  I came back to San Francisco after a month but went there again for Christmas.  In both fall and winter the landscape was superb.  The top left picture was taken on our trip to Brittany, France, the rest are in Montana.  (Click on collage twice to enlarge, but keep in mind that these slides date back to 1961...)

As I mentioned in part 1 of this post, I found a job at the beginning of 1962.  In the spring of 1962 my roommate decided to leave the apartment and move in with her Japanese boyfriend.  I had met Patrick's sister in Great Falls and she decided to come to San Francisco and stay with me for a while and work.  We got along well and I was pleased for the company (she is in the collage below) and to share the $90 monthly rent.  Then in June of that year Patrick decided to finish his studies in San Francisco for his college degree and come and join me in July.  We choose to get married so we could live together - this was the 60s after all and our families would not have approved cohabitation.  We were married on 14 July 1962 at St. Mary's Cathedral in San Francisco.  Patrick's parents were Catholic and wished for us to have a religious wedding and my sponsors were hoping that an Armenian Orthodox priest would also be there - both a Catholic and Armenian priests were there that day.  I don't have a picture of the cathedral but just a vintage postcard, shown below.  We then rented a small apartment at 4170 17th Street in the Castro area of San Francisco.  I commuted to work on the K street car.

In the summer of 1963 we went back to Great Falls for vacation.  This time Patrick had gotten a large Cadillac from a friend - it was quite comfortable.  Patrick's parents also owned a small cabin in the mountains and from there we went to visit Glacier National Park.  Coming from Paris and having been to the seaside and other cities mostly, I was enthralled by the beauty of the mountains and the majesty of the landscape.  This was nature on an epic scale.

Glacier National Park is one of the most beautiful parks in the United States.  It sits in the Rocky Mountain Range on the Continental Divide and borders Waterton Lakes National Park in Canada.  All around us were alpine lakes, soaring peaks, wildlife, wildflowers and more.  We drove to Waterton as well.  On the way back we stopped in a "ghost town" - which was like walking back in time to the real west, indeed.

For the 14 of July 1964 an Eiffel Tower was erected in Union Square in San Francisco.  It was fun seeing it there, together with a French cafe and even an accordionist.

But Patrick and I were not getting along too well.  We had gone to a wedding and taken a nice portrait but then I went back to France to think.  My father who had been very upset about my leaving Paris was pleased to have me back and asked me to fly to Cairo, Egypt, to visit his sister, my aunt, all expenses paid.  I stayed with my aunt and uncle for a couple of weeks and had a great time in Heliopolis.  My cousins spoke Armenian, Arabic, French, English and German and could read the heliographic alphabet.  They took me to places where tourists did not go and read the writing for me on the ancient tombs.  Below is the portrait and pictures from Cairo.

I seriously thought about staying in Paris for good but Patrick and I had corresponded by mail while I was in France (there was no Skype, email or cell phones then) and we decided to try to patch things up.  I went back to San Francisco.  Patrick obtained his degree and went to the University of California in Berkeley to study for his Master's Degree - he moved into a single apartment near the university.  My best friend Virginia was also studying in Berkeley at the time, so I moved in with her, near Durant Avenue and attended the university part-time at night (I was still working.)  But, maybe because of the stress, I started to get sick.  I moved back to San Francisco and rented a studio on Hermann Street, near the U. S. Mint, to be closer to work, avoid the tiring commute and also be near my doctor.  I had to stay in bed for two weeks.  Luckily a friend from the office lived close by and brought me some food in the evenings.  By my husband and I filed for divorce (Patrick is below with a moustache now.)

I guess we both were to blame - we were very young, away from families, and with different temperaments and culture - misunderstandings were unavoidable.  Parting was not easy.  But it helped to live in beautiful San Francisco.  Below is an old slide from that time period (and it shows...)

Count your garden by the flowers

Never by the leaves that fall

Count your days by golden hours

Don't remember clouds at all.  (Anonymous) 

Fortunately I had made some good friends at work, like my best friend Vince Middione, who also lived close to my studio with his partner Garth, and was a divine cook.  Another friend from the SF Art Institute, George Smith (whose address I unfortunately lost) was cheerful and would go and drink coffee with me in the old Italian coffee houses on North Beach.  Another friend, Roland, was an artist and we enjoyed discussing art.  Mary Spears was quite funny and would crack me up constantly.  Friends helped me feel happy again.  From top going clockwise:  Roland, George and me, Mary Spears and Vince.

My studio was on 77 Hermann Street (building shown below) and was on the same hill as the U. S. Mint.  I had painted the kitchen blue.  I also had a pet bird, a parakeet, that I named Dimitrios (after the mystery "A Coffin for Dimitrios" by Eric Ambler.)  I had taught Dimi to speak, he would say "Hello! How are you?" and "Bon Appetit."

 Another friend from work, Jim, would also go on outings with George and me.  Once we went on a hike in Emigrant Basin.  We went by the Gianelli trailhead in the wilderness area.  The Emigrant Wilderness is part of Stanislaus National Forest in the Sierra Nevada and offers outstanding scenery.  In 1852 it was used as a wagon route.  It borders Yosemite National Park.  It consists of granitic ridges, sparsely vegetated with small lakes and meadows.  It is about 140 miles (230 km) from San Francisco.  Below are George and Jim on the left and my slides from the Emigrant Basin.

Jim had an MG TF 1500 sport car and we would go to rock concerts in the Bay Area.  His friend, Marvin, was a close friend to several members of the group "Big Brother and the Holding Company" whose singer, Janis Joplin (1943-1970,) became a part in 1966.  Jim would go and visit Marvin where he would meet these musicians and also Janis.  I did not meet her but saw the group in several concerts.  I had many of the psychedelic posters advertizing these concerts (am not sure where they are now.)  Below are some of the posters, Jim and Leslie on the left, Janis Joplin and members of the band, Janis on the right and Jim's MG.

Jim had bought two 1930's leather pilot headgears to wear in his MG when he lowered the windshield, as you can see above.  When I wore the headgear I also placed a long white silk scarf around my neck that would float in the wind.  It was a lot of fun and people would smile at us on the road.  I still enjoyed listening to jazz and went to the San Francisco Opera but I bought many 33 LP albums of the rock groups from that era.  I gathered some below (some are collector items now.)

By then it was 1966 and the "Flower Children" were in the Haight-Ashbury area of San Francisco.  I was not a "hippie" but I did believe in many of what they embraced: peace, love and freedom and be friends with everyone regardless of color, sex, faith, lifestyle and country of origin.  Both Jim and Leslie attended San Francisco State College where Steven Gaskin taught.  Actually, later on in 1970, Gaskin and his wife Ina May Gaskin would lead a caravan of 60 buses, trucks and van across country to speak and would end up buying land in Summertown, Tennessee and create a commune.  Leslie went with them and we visited him at The Farm several times in the last couple of years when we drove to Tennessee.  The Farm now is still going strong, but no longer as a commune but as a cooperative "intentional community."  I wrote a couple of posts on it, click on "Visiting our Friends from the 60s at The Farm."  Back in the days I would wear flowers in my hair sometimes, but they did not stay put too well.  Because of the wind I wore small scarf-type hats that I had sewn as you can see below where I am sitting near a little neighbor.  

So my friend Leslie became a full hippie, but not what people believe "hippies" were - untidy, dirty, unkempt and druggies.  He believed in the philosophy.  The youth then had more of a utopian view of society than they do now - the youth now are much more materialistic.  Society may look down on the hippie movement, but they have benefited from it.  You could not protest in public then without being arrested as Mario Savio was in Berkeley in 1964 - there was little public freedom of speech.  The hippies stressed recycling and they were considered freaks - humane treatment for animal? that was considered weird then by the general public - whole grains, organic (biologique in French) and natural food?  that was considered outlandish then but a healthy diet now.

How about clean water?  that was considered eccentric since people thought that there always would be clean water in the US, no need to talk about the environment, and if you did, you were an extremist.  It would have been better if society had listened more carefully to the hippies then to look at the problems we face now, but the hippie movement was also disorganized.  Other protests were against the Vietnam War.  Robert McNamara, who was Secretary of Defense at the time, confessed in his book of memoir "Retrospect" that the war had been futile and wrong, terribly wrong.  On April 15, 1967, a march called "Spring Mobilization to End the War" (MOBE) was held in San Francisco.  More than 100,000 people marched from Market Street to Kezar Stadium in Golden Gate Park - people from all walks of life and families too.  There were performers at the stadium in the afternoon including Big Brother and the Holding Company,  Quicksilver Messenger Service, and an appearance from Coretta Scott King, wife of Martin Luther King, Jr.  My friends and I marched.  I took many slides - below are some of them.

 

I am convinced that if we succumb to the temptation to use violence in our struggle for freedom, unborn generations will be the recipients of a long and desolate night of bitterness, and our chief legacy to them will be a never-ending reign of chaos." - Martin L. King, Jr. 1957 (1929-1968.)

More to come in part 3.

Recollections – A San Francisco wedding in 1967

When we were in New York a month or so ago, we had dinner with my friend Christina, who writes the blog called “Bowsprite.” When I told her that in June my husband and I would be celebrating our 45th wedding anniversary, Christina urged me to write a post about our wedding. I had meant to write about it in the order of my recollections – but my recollections posts are still no farther than a post written in June 2010 ending with my mother meeting my father. So this is a post, (not in proper sequence of my recollections,) but about our wedding on 17 June 1967 in San Francisco. I did not take many pictures then, so below are vintage postcards of San Francisco.



In 1966 my fiancé and I traveled to Paris so he could meet my family. We had decided to get married in June of 1967. At the time people did not travel as much by aircraft as we do now. Neither my parents nor fiancé’s parents came to our wedding because of the distance. My fiancé’s brother, who was his best man, flew into San Francisco a couple of days before the wedding. Other than him, we had no family present. Most of our guests came from the companies where we worked. We decided to get married in the Swedenborgian Church on Washington Street in San Francisco. I had been told that it was a small, but lovely romantic church. It looked stern from the exterior as you can see below but it had a very pretty garden in the back for photographs. In addition you did not have to be a member of the church.



The church was completed in 1895 and is regarded as a pure California Arts and Crafts building. There is a beautiful stained-glass window over the altar of a dove by a fountain. The frame of the church consists of long lengths of unpeeled Madrone trunks (also called Arbutus tree) cut from the Santa Cruz Mountains and there is Douglas Fir wood on the sanctuary walls. The flooring is Oregon pine. Pastoral paintings on the walls, the maple chair (made by hand without the use of nails,) a great fireplace and all this antique wood gave a warm and intimate atmosphere. Details in the walled garden were selected for universal significance. Later, in 2004, the church was declared a National Historic Landmark. (Click on collage to enlarge then on each photo - photos courtesy Fiammata Glass.)



Earlier in that spring of 1967 I saw a beautiful wedding dress on the cover of Bride Magazine. I checked with several stores and found out that the Emporium, a large department store in San Francisco, could order this dress for $150. At the time it was an enormous amount for me to pay. But the following week I received my income tax refund check, and it was for $175 – so I went back to the Emporium and ordered the dress. It was a formal shantung silk dress with a lace coat, empire style. I looked up the inflation calendar - $150 in 1967 would be approximately $1,030.00 in 2012. I read that the Emporium founded in 1896 lasted until 1995. Below is a picture of the store from the mid 1960s (courtesy SF Images.)



My maid of honor, Virginia, was my best friend from work. I had two other bridesmaids from my office. My fiancé had two ushers – George a good friend I had met while attending the San Francisco Art Institute and Leslie who later joined a commune. We met Leslie at The Farm in Tennessee two years ago (see post here.) We had not seen him since we left San Francisco in 1970. My bridesmaids wore lavender dresses and had lavender orchids as bouquets. Below are pictures of them at the reception.



Since my father could not be at the wedding I asked my best friend, Vince, to give me away. I had met Vince when I started working in San Francisco in 1962. His family was from Sicily, Italy and he was a great gourmet cook. Vince and his partner, Garth, lived a block up from me and I spent many hours in their kitchen learning Vince’s Italian cooking. Sadly Vince passed away many years ago. In the picture below, I am standing outside the church with one of my bridesmaids and my friend Vince.



The picture above is dark and most of my wedding pictures are not very good. A friend from the Philippines, who was an artist but also an amateur photographer, took our wedding pictures, but the cameras then were not the best. Several guests gave us pictures, too, but the colors are fading. In addition when we moved to Decatur, Georgia, several years later, our house was burglarized and a couple of large boxes containing our color slides were taken. I have scanned some of the pictures I have left. Below I am entering the Swedenborgian Church.



The interior of the church was dark but lovely. The flowers decorating the chapel had been left from the previous wedding (we had arranged for this and paid half of the cost.) Below Vince and I are going up the aisle.



If we had married in France we would have had to go to the town hall first with our wedding license to be legally married. In France there is a strong separation of church and state and a church wedding only is not legal. All couples there have to get a civil wedding first then, if they so chose, go to a church or other religious institution for the religious ceremony. In the USA though one can be legally married in a religious establishment like a church, a synagogue, temple and mosque – well, unless it is a same-sex marriage, which is still not legal in many states. Below the Marriage Certificate is being signed by Reverend Othmar Tobisch, pastor of the church.



Below my new husband Jim and I are standing at the altar after the ceremony.



Below is the wedding party.



Here we are, on this 17th June 1967, for a formal wedding picture in the San Francisco Swedenborgian Church garden.




Below we are with our attendants.


Now we are leaving the church going to the reception in Marin County.



Good friends of my husband gave the reception for us as a wedding present. It took place in the outdoor garden of a lovely restaurant called “L’Europe.”



Since none of my family was present I liked it that there was still a European flavor.



It was a very pretty, sunny day, and about 35-40 people mingled, talked and laughed while eating snacks and drinking wine and other beverages. Below on the left is my maid of honor, Virginia. She had also been my roommate while I was studying at Berkeley. Her boyfriend, an Egyptian student who was finishing his PhD at University of California, Berkeley, is near her. Next to him is my hairdresser who was also my friend – she had come from Hungary a couple of years earlier. (Unfortunately all these photos are faded – Virginia’s dress was mauve but it does not show.)



I remember the wedding cake as being pretty and delicious.



After cutting the cake I threw my bouquet of roses. Virginia caught the bouquet. She did marry her Egyptian boyfriend later on. It had been a day to remember and I remember it well.



My husband had a British Racing green MG TF 1500 automobile at the time which was a two-seater. Since his brother was in town for several days we decided not to leave him alone in San Francisco and took him on our little honeymoon. We rented a cream colored Volkswagen Beetle. Below are examples of the two cars – the MG TF on the bottom and VW Beetle on top (courtesy Conceptcarz and Wikipedia.)



First, on Sunday 18 June we attended the Monterey International Pop Music Festival. This was a three-day concert from 16 through 18 June, 1967. An estimated 200,000 young people attended this concert. It was a three day celebration of Music, Peace, Flower-Power and Love. There was an enormous amount of people that Sunday. The entrance fee was one dollar. The artists performed for free (except Ravi Shankar.) I remember watching The Blues Project, Ravi Shankar, Buffalo Springfield, the Grateful Dead, Janis Joplin, Big Brother and the Holding Company, The Who, The Mamas and The Papas, Otis Redding. I watched as Jimi Hendrix burned his guitar and jumped on it. The day after my wedding, this was also a festival to remember – it achieved historical significance, really. It was incredible. Some have said that it was the greatest rock concert ever – it defined the ‘60s and the “Summer of Love.”



After that we drove all the way to Hearst Castle in San Simeon. The view of the coast was breathtaking. I took some pictures, in black and white, but they don’t show the grandeur of the view. I took the picture of a small restaurant with a sign above the entrance saying “No Hippies Allowed.”


The painting of the Monterey Coast by Paul Moran below certainly gives a better feeling for the beauty of this unique place.

Monterey Coast, Paul Moran, American 1837-1926

So here we are 17 June 2012 – forty-five years later. Where has the time gone? It does not seem so long ago – but it was. I will always remember that week in June 1967 with much love.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Note: Blogger Break - Post pre-programmed.