Design for Living

08.13.08

Until recently, I didn’t know much about permaculture. I only knew that it had something to do with sustainable gardening practices, and that I was hearing about it with increased frequency. On one hand, I was correct in that permaculture is very much concerned with the growing of food, and that it is indeed a rapidly spreading movement. But this is hardly an accurate definition. Permaculture, as I learned at the recent North Bay Permaculture Convergence, is actually an ecological design system for sustainability, one that spirals into all aspects of life.

Benjamin Fahrer, permaculturalist and educator, was up from Big Sur for this three-day event in west Sonoma County, attended by some 150 people. The Convergence, the fifth of its kind for the North Bay, attracts permaculturalists from Monterey to Mendocino County and moves to a different location each year.  

Think of “permaculture” as meaning “permanent culture,” Fahrer tells me, where the goals are “Earthcare,” “Peoplecare” and “Fairshare.”

The first two concepts, Earthcare and Peoplecare, are pretty self-explanatory. There’s really no reason that everyone in the world can’t have a safe place to sleep, clean water to drink and enough food to eat. Yet as a culture, we seem to accept extreme disparities in lifestyle—some are millionaires, while others starve. This is where Fairshare comes in. Fairshare creates a cycle, a feedback loop that sets limits to consumption and churns our surpluses back to the earth and its people.

Currently, we live in a culture that throws things away, and according to Fahrer, we are temporary and complacent. Until we begin to put our egos in check by considering what we need and not what we want, then there will be a continued lack of surplus. Fairshare comes from understanding these concepts and from living a life that is not based on throwaway ideology and self-obsessed ultraconsumption.

Fahrer says that permaculture founders Bill Mollison and David Holmgren studied indigenous cultures in order to discover how they managed to exist in harmony with their surroundings. During their studies, Mollison and Holmgren found a consistent pattern. Successful indigenous cultures across the planet lived by three ethics: a reverence for the earth, a reverence for each other and a practice of giving back the surplus. Permaculturalists around the world have a vision of creating abundance—and by abundance they don’t mean a red Ferrari and a pair of thousand-dollar jeans. They mean a full stomach, clean water and a sense of community that’s more sustaining than the fanciest stick shift.

For his part, Fahrer is about to begin a tour of permaculture schools and sites from Baja to British Columbia. There is a shift happening, Fahrer assures. The masses are looking for solutions, and those solutions are appearing all over the world. With this shift in consciousness comes the potential for the permaculture movement to shift and change as well, but there needs to be the least change for the greatest effect; existing institutions need to remain or become sustainable, and personal agendas have to be put aside.

This brings us to a critical point in my learning process. I am sensitive to the human capacity for egotistical behaviors, and everything about this permaculture thing reeks of the potential for self-congratulatory carrot planting. Fahrer acknowledges this risk, which is why before eco-restoration, we must have ego-restoration. An integral aspect to permaculture is the relinquishment of power; the strength of permaculture lies within the network, not just the individual. The only way a movement can have true strength and resiliency is if the people within it are helping each other.

When disaster strikes, Fahrer asks me, where are you going to go? He has community all over the world—and in that community, people are making their own food, saving their own water and harnessing their own energy. These are places where people are learning to put their egos aside and to live and work together.

Driving home, I consider Fahrer’s question. Where will I go when the shit hits the fan? Sadly, I know where I’ll be. While Fahrer and his permaculture crew are eating goat cheese on some epic piece of land somewhere with a rainwater catchment system and a fully functioning composting toilet, I’ll be at the North Bay equivalent of the New Orleans Superdome. I can already see myself, a small plastic bottle of emergency water clutched in my sweaty fingers, while I stand in a spiraling line of exhausted and desperate people waiting to use a reeking Port-a-Potty. This image fills me with a wave of sadness, and for the first time, I feel ready to reassess my self-imposed limitations and to seek change.

For more information on permaculture, visit www.permaculture.org.


Whither the Alligator Pear?

08.13.08

Frost, fire and water cutbacks have delivered a mighty punch to the gut of the California avocado industry. Yield is down, as are the farmers. Fruit-set for next season is looking grim, and while growers struggle to regain their feet, a nonstop stampede of Mexican, Chilean and other foreign avocados is flooding the market and deceiving consumers into thinking all’s gravy in the avocado biz.

But it’s not. The base of the problem stems back to Jan. 1, when an emergency court order, intended to protect the threatened Sacramento Delta smelt from death by pumping, called for a 30 percent cutback on water flow from the delta to Southern California. Farmers, in turn, received a prompt 30 percent reduction in irrigation water.

Avocados, a jungle fruit being grown in the desert, require between three and four acre-feet of water per acre per year to remain vibrant and fruitful. (Grapes, by contrast, require just one, as do blackberries.) Thus, the men and women who grow avocados have been put in tight quarters, and to keep at least a portion of their orchards healthy, many have had no choice but to cut down as much as one-third of their trees.

They call it “stumping,” and word has it that throughout rural San Diego County all winter, spring and summer, the buzz of chainsaws could be heard in the distance. To stump a tree does not kill it, but merely leaves it dormant. The action also halts the tree’s photosynthetic processes immediately. Water consumption nearly ceases, so that for neighboring trees still bearing foliage, fruit and flowers, life may go on. The reckless farmer who decides not to stump in such a time as this would simply wind up with a withered canopy across the property and perhaps enough scrapings for a bucket of guacamole.    

As stumped trees are not dead, they quickly bounce back to life; new leaves and buds sprout from the sawed-off stump and, generally, within three years the branches hang heavy again with fruit.

That is, if there’s water. Gary Arant, general manager of the Valley Center Municipal Water District, doesn’t believe there will be. While droughts may end within two or three years of their inception, legal matters involving water, desert cities, farmers and endangered species are liable to linger for a decade or more.

“These farmers are in this for the long haul, and eventually their trees will have to just come out,” he predicts.

Economically, he says, there is little sense in stumping as a long-term course of action; the trees still require some water—a monetary expense—while producing no fruit at all. Stumped trees are dead weight and a financial drain on a farm.

That is why brothers Noel, Jerome and Al Stehly, who run their family’s certified organic ranch near Valley Center, stumped only 40 of their 800 total acres of avocados and have instead directed their efforts toward seeking a new source of water. They’re going underground. However, the local subsurface supply of groundwater is relatively salty and unsuitable for avocados. A study by Dr. Gary Bender, farm adviser with the UC Davis extension in San Marcos, showed reduced yields of 27 to 40 percent in avocado trees irrigated with brackish water. Even blending 30 percent groundwater with the remaining allowance of fresh district water to fill the current water void, says Bender, would not sufficiently dilute the salt.

But the Stehlys have purchased four nanofiltration pumps, each of which can desalinate as many as 300 gallons of briny water per minute and could alleviate the water shortages faced by their crops, which include blueberries and citrus. However, Jerome Stehly concedes that the pumps are very expensive. He believes Northern California “is letting a surplus resource run out to sea.” That, of course, would be the Sacramento River.

“It’s ridiculous,” he says. “They have extra water, and we can’t get it. There need to be compromises to keep agriculture alive in California, and though I don’t believe extremists are trying to stop agriculture—they’re trying to stop urban growth—what they’re stopping is farming.” 

Tom Markle, 71, has grown avocados for 36 years near Escondido with his wife, Mary, but the future is looking grim. The Markles’ groves total 29 acres and approximately 3,400 trees. In October, fires damaged or entirely torched about 1,700 of them. The winds generated by the heat reached 100 miles per hour and knocked much of the rest of the crop from the branches. Current fruit-set is low, as it is across the county’s 26,000 acres of avocado trees, and, like most other farmers, Markle stumped a few trees to meet the water availability. Next season, he foresees a crop yield just 25 to 30 percent of his usual 300,000 to 400,000 pounds.

“Small farmers are hurting,” Markle says. “We need more water, and it’s not going to come from the sky.”

It may not come from the north either, due to environmental concerns for salmon, the delta smelt and the Central Valley ecosystem as a whole.

“And that’s a reasonable concern,” Markle allows, though Arant believes that water pumping has been overrated as the sole cause of declining fisheries. He says that the Chinook salmon collapse, for example, was due in large part to ocean fishing and river pollution.

Farmers Bill and Carol Steed are struggling, too. They grow avocados, berries and citrus near Valley Center, in the north of San Diego County, and had just put 25 new acres of blueberries in the ground when word of the January water cuts arrived in November. They now have only 25 percent of their total water needs.

“An immediate solution,” Carol Steed points out, “would be if all residential users cut back their intake by 3 to 4 percent.”

After all, agricultural use of water in San Diego County runs just one-seventh the volume of what urbanites use, much of which fills pools, makes cars shine and otherwise goes down the drain.

“I’d like to see San Diego start sending its reclaimed water up to the groves, but getting it there is the main problem,” says Dr. Bender, who believes that treated sewage water could be “the future” of Southern California farming.

Meanwhile, water officials expect the cuts on agricultural water use to increase next year to 40 or even 50 percent of farmers’ 2006 intake. Some farmers are bailing out of the business, and Markle recently put two-thirds of his family’s avocado acreage up for sale as their financial problems mount. Markle expects that whoever buys the land will remove most of the trees.

Avocado production in California took a heavy hit beginning with the frosts of January 2007. The fires of last October and the widespread stumping has since spurred a rapid loss of acreage, which has nose-dived from 65,000 to 58,000 acres in the past 18 months. Yet nationwide demand for the creamy fruit, once called “poor-man’s butter,” is higher than ever, and acreage overseas is expanding as avocado imports pick up the slack for lagging domestic farmers. The North American Free Trade Agreement opened the doors in the 1990s to fruit from Mexico, Chile and elsewhere, and today foreign avocados dominate the marketplace.

Consumers might think twice about buying Mexican avocados. While Mexico’s tropical avocado groves don’t face water shortages, in Michoacan, the center of production, avocados have directly replaced abut 30,000 acres of rainforest since 1997, when NAFTA opened the American market to Mexican avocados and spurred the acceleration of the already growing Mexican industry.

Today, Michoacan avocado groves cover 228,102 acres, generate 2 billion pounds of avocados yearly and provide the United States with approximately half of its consumption, which hit 1 billion pounds last year. Chile provides about 15 percent of the American demand, Peru may enter the market in 2010, and California now supplies just 30 percent of domestic avocado use.

“What are we going to do, grow all our food offshore?” asks Jerome Stehly.

 

Carol Steed hopes that people will take a greater interest in conserving water at home and in protecting California’s farmers. 

“We’re hopeful—and maybe this is naïve—that the state and the public will eventually appreciate the value of locally grown food. Eventually, we have to decide how important it is to grow our own food in our own country.”

Quick dining snapshots by Bohemian staffers.

Winery news and reviews.

Food-related comings and goings, openings and closings, and other essays for those who love the kitchen and what it produces.

Recipes for food that you can actually make.

The Bonehead Chronicles

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08.13.08

Upon breaking my clavicle in my senior year of high school, I was instantly aware that I had, in fact, broken my clavicle. It happened during a bike ride to the YMCA with some friends. We were all going swimming, and I had offered to carry all of the swimsuits and whatnot in my backpack, to make things easier on everyone. Little did I know. (I think that’s called “foreshadowing.”)

I had borrowed a bike from my then-girlfriend, and it was one of those racer-style street bikes that I’ve only ever seen Lycra-wearing serious bicycle enthusiasts riding. The handlebars curved down in the front, so you had no choice but to bend down quite far into what I’m sure must be the best possible position for racing down a hill at breakneck speeds. It was, however, for me, just the best testicle-crunching position I’ve ever contorted into.

It took me a block or two to get the hang of the bike, but before long, I was going along at a pretty good clip. I was at the front of the pack and someone behind me called out my name. For what reason, I do not know. I whipped my head around to the left, and my momentum caused my backpack full of their bathing suits to whip out to the right, which threw me right off of the bicycle, down to the ground, and hard on my right shoulder. I heard a crisp snap! and skidded for a few feet, finally coming to rest on my back, on top of my backpack.

Concerned I might look funny lying there like that, not unlike a turtle on its back with its legs waving in the air, I literally jumped to my feet, trying to look natural and cool. Instantly overcome with nausea and nearly blacking out, I nonchalantly vomited into the gutter.

My bicycling friends arrived moments later, having doubled back. I wiped my mouth on my sleeve.

“Jeez, man! That was a nasty-looking fall! Are you cool?” They all agreed that it looked very bad.

“Yeah. I broke my collarbone. I’m fine, though.” I played it off and sat down on the curb, making sure I was well away from the vomit. (I know it sounds strange, but my primary concern was keeping myself composed and looking good.)

“Do you want us to call an ambulance?” one of them asked.

“No, I’m good.” I gently moved my right arm, and the pain shot through my right side like a bolt of lightning, causing me to black out. When I came to, one of my male friends was (for lack of a better word) cradling my upper body, having caught my head before it cracked open like a ripe casaba on the sidewalk. “Seriously, you guys,” I continued casually, “I’m cool. I’ll take care of this. Go on ahead to the Y, and I’ll call a cab.”

“Yeah, right. Nothin’ doin’.”

Ah, friends.

After a quick trip to the ER, and a few weeks, I was good as new. Until I broke my collarbone. Again. Riding a bike. Again.

“You’re joking.” My wife said when I told her this story. Sadly, I wasn’t. I rebroke it again within one month of the first break.

“I was feeling a lot better, no pain really, and I decided to ride a different bike down to the gas station, to, well, make sure I could still ride. You know how, if you want to gain some speed really quick on your bike, you’ll kind of stand up and pedal? Well, I was doing that and I missed the pedal, and my right foot hit the ground, causing my handlebars to come up toward me quickly, and my arms to jerk back quickly. I heard a snap and, yeah, it broke again.”

“Did you learn something from this?” she asked me, in a tone that didn’t quite suggest confidence that I had, in fact, learned something from this.

“Yes, I did.” I replied matter-of-factly. I learned not to tell my wife stories that make me look like a bonehead.

 Open Mic is now a weekly feature in the Bohemian. We welcome your contribution. To have your topical essay of 700 words considered for publication, write op*****@******an.com.


Wine Tasting Room of the Week

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California Sauvignon Blanc sure has improved over the past decade, hasn’t it? I’d like to think that it has to do with improved management techniques and trellis design, not just the fact that I used to drink really cheap Sauv Blanc. Some are as sharp and lean as a blade of grass; others, sweet and round as a melon from sitting lazily on their lees in the barrel. But Guy Davis was not having it. The Healdsburg winemaker has given up on making California Sauvignon Blanc altogether, and now imports it from New Zealand.

After working the harvest during our off-season, the down-under on-season, Davis decided that only kiwi fruit could deliver what he was looking for. The flying family winemaker makes two trips a year to shepherd the wine through harvest and bottling. There’s no question that his “Gusto” 2006 Sauvignon Blanc ($20) is a tight package of tropical zing and zest, a dry but mouth-watering pineapple-pear cocktail, the likes of which are rare. But that’s not all. When he’s, you know, in the area, Davis also makes a Malbec in Argentina (to be released).

Located in a few unshowy Healdsburg buildings, the winery is easily recognizable for the big recycled material sculpture out front, created by Sebastopol artist Patrick Amiot. Davis was our fourth stop in a recent excursion, and was the most relaxed and real tasting room of the day. The visitor area is only a moderately duded-up portion of the barrel room; the wave-shaped bar is made of smooth riverbed pebbles covered with epoxy—and they’re not “rocks from the vineyard” whose unique mineral notes express the wine’s terroir, for a change. They’re just rocks.

Besides the Sauv Blanc, I particularly enjoyed the light and dry 2006 Côte Rosé ($25), like a picnic cooler full of strawberries and cheese. A perfume of violets and paint precedes flavors of blueberries and dry cocoa in the 2005 Guyzer Block Syrah ($38). There’s nothing like a generous helping of blackberry sweetness; a wild touch of spicy flora adds interest to the 2005 Rapport Zinfandel Port ($30).

So there are plenty of local grapes Davis hasn’t given up on—plus apples. The winery’s unique Apple-ation brandy ($35) is fermented from heirloom Dutton Ranch apples, then distilled. It’s a bit like a bracing hit of grappa, but tasting of this spirit is not allowed on the premises (otherwise, my notes might be even more unreadable). The 2003 Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon ($50) is nice, but I don’t think I meant to say that it has a “big, fun aroma of liquor and Chevys.”

Davis Family Vineyards, 52 Front St., Healdsburg. Open Thursday–Sunday, 11am–5pm. $5 tasting fee, refundable. 707.433.3858.



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News Blast

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08.13.08

Don’t Tase Me, Bro

The fuzz is getting a bad rap lately. Witness YouTube, where thousands tuned in to watch a rogue New York City cop shove a cyclist or the tasing of a young Florida man at a 2007 John Kerry speech. Police and law enforcement officer brutality has come to the forefront of national attention lately, prompting activist groups to form around the country, and the North Bay is no exception.

The Police Accountability Crisis Hotline (PACH) is a recent volunteer effort to make police forces accountable to the community after a spate of killings of unarmed citizens in Sonoma County last year. Volunteers for PACH take turns monitoring calls day by day, interviewing callers and recording the complaints, says member Marty McReynolds, which are then filed in order to establish patterns involving specific agencies or officers.

McReynolds says the fledgling hotline does not work directly with police stations—at least not yet—and though PACH does not function as a legal referral service, it tries its best to put callers in touch with a lawyer if needed.

“We’re still in the process of learning how to take in reports and deal with callers involved in stressful situations,” McReynolds says. “The main thing PACH can do is act as the public’s ear—listen to complaints and record them so they don’t get lost in the bureaucratic shuffle.

“Plus, it often helps someone to be able to talk with a sympathetic listener after a traumatic experience with law enforcement,” he continues.

Protest groups like the Coalition to Stop Police Brutality, based in both San Francisco and Sonoma County, are plentiful in the North Bay and supported by handfuls of unnerved citizens. The Coalition’s March and Rally to Stop Police Brutality, Repression, and the Criminalization of a Generation on Oct. 22 of last year drew crowds dressed in black all over the streets of Santa Rosa. The crisis hotline prefers a quieter approach, providing a support system for those affected by law enforcement abuse instead of picketing police stations.

Currently, PACH is seeking nonprofit status and hopes to be able to solicit tax-free donations once the process is complete, says McReynolds, but it also has a long road ahead to consider.

“My personal opinion is that it’s too early to consider PACH a success,” McReynolds says. “We have a lot of work to do, but we have people who are excited about what we’re doing and willing to donate their time and money to make it work.”

For more information on PACH, or to report an incident, call the hotline at 707.542.7224.


Card Sharp

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the arts | stage |

FLUSH: Joe Cicio and Karen Stern spar over cards.

By David Templeton

The problem with so many community theater companies is that, in the drive to be taken seriously, most of them want ticket-holders to overlook the fact that they are community theater companies. Somewhere along the way, “community theater” has become a dirty word, a synonym for “amateur,” “awkward” and “bad.” In reality, there has always been something beautiful about community theater in its purest form.

When theater-loving folks from throughout the community come together to put on a show, to risk their reputations and egos as friends and family line up to watch, it can be as thrilling and magical as a skirmish between two high school football teams, as moving and dramatic as a valedictorian speech by a graduating senior. One need not be a professional to work wonders on a stage, and the fact that the actors are less polished than they will be in the future only adds to the fun. Dreamweavers Theatre in Napa is one of the few local companies that has embraced the word “community,” boldly collecting together local actors and directors, most of whom have full-time day jobs doing something else, and putting on a play for their neighbors.

Is it as good, tight and polished as what you’d find at an Equity house with full-time professional directors? No, and it’s not supposed to be. If we only allowed pros to play, we’d be cheating ourselves and the many talented folks brave enough to tread the boards for our entertainment. Such companies deserve our support, and Dreamweavers—a lovely flashback to a time when community was not a dirty word—is a prime example of why.

D. L. Coburn’s The Gin Game, which won the Pulitzer Prize in 1978, just opened a three-week run at Dreamweavers’ 30-seat black box theater, hidden away in the rear of the River Park Shopping Center in Napa. As directed by June Alane Reif, it is a spirited and entertaining effort, though frequently uneven and occasionally a bit confused—like the characters portrayed in the play.

Fonsia Dorsey (played with brittle primness by Karen Stern) is a new resident at a seedy retirement home where she apparently receives no visitors. When she meets surly but charming Weller Martin (Joe Cicio) on the cluttered back patio, he invites her to play a hand of gin rummy, and an apparent friendship is born. Described by the author as a “tragic-comedy,” it is only a matter of time before the cordial twosome turn on each other.

Played with a kind of courtly vulgarity by Cicio (last seen in Pacific Alliance Stage Company’s Wonder of the World), Weller’s catalyst for his developing rage is Fonsia’s apparent inability to lose a single hand of gin, despite never having played the game before. “Lord knows I’m no expert,” she coldly teases him. “I just play like an expert.”

For Fonsia, it’s Weller’s coarse language and bad temper (and eventual similarity to her ex-husband) that peels away her carefully crafted veneer, revealing a cruel, calculating, judgmental side that Weller begins to use against her as the game turns decidedly unfriendly.

All of these layers are difficult to play, and Cicio and Stern aren’t quite up to the challenge, so their characters exist much more on the surface than when more experienced actors take on this production. As a result, the character shifts are a bit confusing, and Fonsia and Weller come off as simpler people than written to be. But under Reif’s spare direction, that works most of the time. Instead of hinting early on at the meanness each has developed after so many years of regret and loneliness, each character surprises us when they suddenly throw a low blow, as when Weller tells Fonsia, whom he’s recently learned has a son who despises her, “You know what’s wrong with most of the people in the world? They have a mother who’s just like you.”

With language strong enough to peel the paint off the set, this Gin Game won’t be for everyone, but for the opportunity to see two gutsy actors taking huge chances, and mostly succeeding, community-theater supporters will definitely want to be dealt in on this one.

‘The Gin Game’ runs Friday–Sunday through Aug. 24. Friday–Saturday at 8pm; Sunday at 2pm.  Dreamweavers Theatre, in the River Park Shopping Center, 1637 W. Imola Ave., Napa. $18–$20. 707.255.5483.



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Letters to the Editor

08.13.08

Speaking Spoiler

On Sunday, Aug. 3, Ralph Nader spoke at the Sebastopol Community Center, among other venues in Sonoma and Marin counties.  I had a long exchange with him about the 2000 election and his role as the spoiler.  Of course, he denies this and has his obscure sources to support a not very coherent defense.

The fact is Nader ignored a letter by 25 of his most trusted and oldest advisers pleading with him to capitulate and to back Gore.  Further, he reneged on  his own promise not to compete in any state that was close. Nader was campaigning in Florida days before the election with the help of Republican money. Ninety-two thousand votes went to Nader in that election, to say nothing of the drag his constant attacks put on Gore’s campaign.

As his aide was prodding me to finish because, he said, “We’re running out of time,” Nader glibly recounted an obviously polished story about meeting Al Gore in Washington six months after the election. “I said,” Nader recounted, “‘Isn’t it a relief, Al?’ and he just smiled.” Well Ralph, maybe it was a relief for Al, but how about the rest of us? How about the 500,000 dead Iraqis? How about the festering environmental issues that have been ignored and suppressed for the last eight years? How about the Supreme Court that, as a lawyer, you should be keenly concerned about?

If you want to blunt Nader’s impact on the current election, make a point of attending his fundraisers and take advantage of the question-and-answer period  by confronting him on these issues. It’s very therapeutic.

Bruce Kranzler

Tomales

Faster, Pussycat!

I find it highly ironic that your paper did a story on credit card debt among Generations X and Y (“Generation Debt,” July 30) and yet on page 3 of that issue, there is a whole page devoted to advertising for a Visa credit card! Advertising is also part of the problem! Our generation’s demand for bigger and faster products and the rise of an elite class keeps these new products on the market. It is no longer about keeping up with the Joneses; now, it is about keeping up with a forever changing technology that gets faster and smaller and more powerful with each phase of the techno evolution. Face it, today things have become more expensive with each passing day. Food, gas and living are at an all-time high and could hit an all-time record high. We live for now and deal with tomorrow when tomorrow comes.

Nicole Generation X

Santa Rosa

Pursuit of Empire

Regarding John Sakowicz’s “To America, with Shame” (Aug. 6), the premise of most U.S. writers is that the United States was once a great nation and promoter of liberty for all, but that has never been true. There were the Indian wars and the maintenance of slavery long after most of the rest of the world had abolished it.

There is still the widespread use of capital punishment, long after most other countries have abolished that.

There is the fact that the United States has been involved in foreign wars—in pursuit of empire—for well over a century, whilst other (former) imperial powers have largely given up on trying to have global economic and military dominance.

It is sad that U.S. critics of the U.S.A. do not recognize their own history, but instead believe that the current state of affairs is an aberration, whereas it is actually the norm and just winding out in much the same way that the Roman Empire wound out, due to overreach, overambition, corruption and whatever else accounts for the end of any empire.

Gerry Hiles

South Australia

Calling Bob Canard

I enjoyed your articles about local farmers, community gardens and the new trend toward growing more food locally (“Arcadia,” July 23). I’ve been wondering aloud recently if Sonoma County could strategize effectively and become totally self-sufficient for food and perhaps other things like fuel and energy, as well.

I remember that Bob Canard used to teach organic agriculture at SRJC.  Perhaps he could be a valuable resource for starting such a large-scale project. Sonoma County could be a model community for the world, especially if a comprehensive, compassionate population-control program was included.

How about it?

Barbara Dougherty

Cotati


&–&–>

Four-Sided Triangle

08.13.08

Something Mediterranean has gotten into Woody Allen, and it’s about time. Vicky Cristina Barcelona is Allen’s strongest film in years, his most affable and least haunted. The sneaky sensualist in Allen has evolved into something less tentative; there’s a Henry Miller quality to the romantic misadventures here.

The film starts with a splash of mosaics at the Barcelona airport as a narrator (Christopher Evan Welch) describes two arrivals for a summer holiday, and they’re as unlike each other as Snow White and Rose Red. Chronic dissatisfaction syndrome sufferer Cristina (Scarlett Johansson) has just dumped her New York boyfriend and disowned the 12-minute film she’s worked on for months, while her more staid traveling companion, Vicky (Rebecca Hall), is destined to settle down to a life of dull safety with her fiancé as soon as she gets back to the United States.

At a restaurant, the two young women are simultaneously picked up—gently but bluntly—by Juan Antonio (Javier Bardem), a successful artist. He wants to fly the two of them into a nearby town, and thence into the space of one large bed. Few actors can carry off the double-seducer role as well as Bardem, and his smokiness keeps the film far away from lecherous ickiness. Also, Juan Antonio has his own cross to bear: his violent yet needy ex-wife, Maria Elena (Penélope Cruz), who is also a painter. She once perforated him with a knife, and she’s not completely out of the picture yet.

There are some performers in Vicky Cristina Barcelona who seem especially handicapped by having to speak English. Let’s blame the treacherous language instead of them. Cruz is ravishing here, even in awkward poses, as when she’s seen from a high angle shot with her pant legs wadded up to her knees, straddling a canvas she’s working on. Johansson’s hair is dyed a convincing gold, and fine as she is, she is just part of the four-sided triangle. She doesn’t distract from Cruz, nor the fascinating Hall, a dark, handsome physical type who doesn’t get idealized in the movies very often.

Naturally, Barcelona does its stuff, with feast-day fireworks, the Gaudi tour and the bird market at Las Ramblas. Over these scenes, the narration can sometimes Rick-Steves-it up. When it describes feelings and apprehensions, it also seems unnecessary. There’s no need for a Flaubert tone when there’s so little space between the way the characters act and the way they’re thinking.

There’s also a certain flatness in the background characters. On one hand, the other members of the cast aren’t schticking relentlessly; on the other, they’re also not doing much of anything else, and at times one starts to miss the flow of jokes (there’s a good one about the obscene sound of the word “snorkeling”—leave it to a longtime comedy writer like Allen to not neglect the funny k sound).

American movies tend to suggest sexual freedom and then ringingly endorse monogamy as if it’s something they just invented. While Allen comes to his usual conclusion that anhedonia rules the world, he’s on the side of the libertines in his new film. That makes all the difference.

‘Vicky Cristina Barcelona’ opens Friday, Aug. 15, at Rialto Cinemas Lakeside, 551 Summerfield Road, Santa Rosa. 707.525.4840.


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Oh, Nellie!

0

08.13.08

Nellie McKay may have artistic ADD. The singer-songwriter, who performs at the Mystic Theatre on Aug. 18, doesn’t just write songs. Recently, McKay has acted on Broadway and in the movie P.S. I Love You, shown up in rap videos on YouTube and written book reviews for the New York Times. This is on top of recording three albums of her own music, most recently Obligatory Villagers, released last September.

“I’m jack of all trades, master of none, you know,” she said in a recent phone interview. “I have a short attention span. I wish it wasn’t so, truthfully. But there are two ways to approaching something creatively. One is to focus on the good stuff and aspire to be like that. That’s the depressing way. The other is to focus on all the bad stuff and pat yourself on the back when it comes out OK. That’s my approach.”

Musically, McKay jumps around in style as much as she jumps around in projects, touching on jazz, Broadway, pop, lounge and even hip-hop. The connecting tissue throughout, aside from her jazzy voice, is her sense of humor. McKay is rarely serious, even when she’s addressing serious issues like sexism or gay marriage. Sometimes her songs are downright silly, like “Zombies,” about, well, zombies. Others are sarcastic, like “Mother of Pearl,” which starts out, “Feminists don’t have a sense of humor / Feminists just want to be alone (boo-hoo) / Feminists spread vicious lies and rumor / They have a tumor on their funny bone.” Though the song is about how people stereotype feminists, McKay’s tongue-in-cheek delivery can confuse people into thinking she’s being sincere.

“When we did [that song] on Garrison Keillor’s Prairie Home Companion, he got so many angry letters,” she says. “And when I played a NOW concert, the lady who was introducing me read some of the lyrics of that song out loud and people in the crowd went, ‘Oh, that’s terrible.'”

At 26, McKay dyes her hair silver-screen-movie-star blonde, wears vintage clothes and talks fast, mixing hard-boiled wisecracks with breathless girlishness. (“Oh!” she exclaims in the middle of the interview. “There are people singing on the street right now!”) There are contradictions even in the people she emulates. One of her heroes is the 1950s ever-virgin Doris Day, an odd choice for an outspoken feminist. McKay, a vegan and member of PETA, admires Day’s commitment to animal rights.

“And musically, I loved listening to her,” she says. “She had a lovely, lovely, lovely voice. It’s an underrated voice. And she had a freshness and an innocence that is projected in her image and all her movies that is lacking culturally, nowadays.”

Given McKay’s distinctiveness, it’s no wonder that her stint with a major label was doomed. In 2003, she signed with the Sony/Columbia label to record her first album, Get Away from Me. McKay lobbied aggressively for a double disc CD instead of the 13 tracks Sony wanted. The label gave in, but when the next album came along, they were adamant that she stick to a 16-track disc. McKay wanted to record a 23-track double disc, and a standoff ensued. In the end, Sony dropped McKay from the label and the album, Pretty Little Head, came out on the independent Black Dove label.

“So many difficult artists you hear about aren’t really being that difficult,” McKay says. “The only reason I wanted a 23-track is because there is such a length of time between releases, you have to sit on stuff. It would have been years before I would be releasing another album, and by then there would be more songs piled up. I wanted to get it out there.”

In addition to touring, McKay is writing the music for the Broadway musical version of Election, the 1999 movie with Reese Witherspoon and Matthew Broderick. But her approach to writing the music is haphazard, she claims.

“Generally, I’m more and more clueless [about writing songs],” she says. “Mostly, you hope that when something comes in part, it will develop into something full. Then when it only develops in part, I kind of give up. I don’t have a working process. It’s a problem. Some people turn to liquor.”

This isn’t just modesty. When asked, McKay can only name a handful of her songs that she likes. Whatever she does, it seems, McKay is her own worst critic.

“But the songs seem to mean something to some people, which is one reason to keep making records,” she says. “There’s a lot of schlock that gets put out there, you know. I have written some schlock, too, and people seem to like it. I guess that means I have some schlocky friends.”

 Nellie McKay appears on Monday, Aug. 18, at the Mystic Theatre. Solid Air opens. 23 Petaluma Blvd. N., Petaluma. 8pm. $20; 21 and over. 707.765.2121.


Wine of the Season

0

08.13.08

Auctions can be dangerous. So many tantalizing options and all that money flying about triggers the compulsive inner consumer. Numbers are scratched, paddles are lifted, and suddenly a 3-by-4-foot acrylic nude painting in bright swirling metallics gloats gaudily from the bathroom wall, a constant reminder of bad decisions made.

Yet some occasions are worth the splurge. Folks with money to burn in pursuit of fun and philanthropy will find just that at the Sonoma Valley Harvest Wine Auction, now in its 16th year, which takes the prize as far as North Bay auctions go. The event is the finale to cap off the inaugural Sonoma Wine Country Weekend, which runs Aug. 29&–31.

After raising $1.3 million last year and over $8 million in the previous 15 years overall, the auction is expected to rake in the bucks this year with more than 50 lavish lots, live music and a slew of local celebrity chefs to guide attendees through various food and wine tastings. Among the contributing wineries are Sangiacomo Vineyard, Schug Carneros Estate, Gloria Ferrer Winery and Ravenswood Winery. Proceeds go to 13 local charities, including Hanna Boys Center, Operation Youth of Sonoma Valley and WillMar Center for Bereaved Children.

The tagline “You’re not hallucinating, you’re in Sonoma Valley!” and a ’60s theme give the event an irreverent, festive tone, with one of the groovier highlights being a Lava Lamp Lounge where guests can sip wine and relax beside a Volkswagen-bus-turned-refreshment-stand. Rockin’ throughout the day, a live band will serenade auction-goers with throwback Rolling Stones tunes and other ’60s favorites.

  

Forget the Bath and Body Works baskets and Best Buy gift certificates. The seriously sumptuous auction lots are enough to make any hedonist drool, with options including a French culinary arts trip to Washington, D.C., and Paris and a week for four in Florence at the Petroni family’s elegant two-bedroom apartment on Piazza dell’Olio. For those who don’t feel like flying overseas, a fully loaded 2008 Toyota Prius is just waiting to save one lucky driver a lot of gas money. Those who can’t make it to the event or who need a head start on bidding can now do it online at www.sonomawinecountryweekend.cMarket.com.

But folks interested in low-budget revelry should look elsewhere for a good time—”high rollers only” seems to be the memo. A single ticket to the event costs a whopping $750 on Sunday, Aug. 31, at Cline Cellars, 24737 Arnold Drive, Sonoma. 11am&–6pm; bidding begins at 1pm. 800.939.7666. [ http://www.sonomawinecountryweekend.com/ ]www.sonomawinecountryweekend.com.

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Food-related comings and goings, openings and closings, and other essays for those who love the kitchen and what it produces.

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Design for Living

08.13.08Until recently, I didn't know much about permaculture. I only knew that it had something to do with sustainable gardening practices, and that I was hearing about it with increased frequency. On one hand, I was correct in that permaculture is very much concerned with the growing of food, and that it is indeed a rapidly spreading movement. But...

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News Blast

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Card Sharp

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Letters to the Editor

08.13.08Speaking SpoilerOn Sunday, Aug. 3, Ralph Nader spoke at the Sebastopol Community Center, among other venues in Sonoma and Marin counties.  I had a long exchange with him about the 2000 election and his role as the spoiler.  Of course, he denies this and has his obscure sources to support a not very coherent defense.The fact is Nader ignored...

Four-Sided Triangle

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Oh, Nellie!

08.13.08Nellie McKay may have artistic ADD. The singer-songwriter, who performs at the Mystic Theatre on Aug. 18, doesn't just write songs. Recently, McKay has acted on Broadway and in the movie P.S. I Love You, shown up in rap videos on YouTube and written book reviews for the New York Times. This is on top of recording three albums...

Wine of the Season

08.13.08Auctions can be dangerous. So many tantalizing options and all that money flying about triggers the compulsive inner consumer. Numbers are scratched, paddles are lifted, and suddenly a 3-by-4-foot acrylic nude painting in bright swirling metallics gloats gaudily from the bathroom wall, a constant reminder of bad decisions made. Yet some occasions are worth the splurge. Folks with money...
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