Green Rooms

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Biophilia:
Kelp! | Climate Control Campaign | Georgia Kelly | Why I Hate Being Green | Eco-Hostelry | Shout-Outs | Green String Farms

A’Swimming: Swans are among the calming sights and effects of the Gaia Napa Valley Hotel.

By Bruce Robinson

From the graceful fanlike entry façade down to the recycled fibers in its carpets, Wen-I Chang’s new inn is a departure from lodging as usual. The 133-room Gaia Napa Valley Hotel and Spa, which opened in American Canyon a few months ago, emphasizes its environmental credentials, beginning with its status as the first hotel in the nation to earn a Gold LEED (Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design) certification from the United States Green Building Council.

“This world, every species on it, is declining and I thought there’s got to be some way that business should not only make a profit, it should also take care of the earth, Mother Earth,” Wen-I explains. Applied to the hospitality industry, that philosophy becomes a concept Wen-I calls “responsible leisure.”

To earn that prized LEED rating, the hotel’s design and construction incorporated such nontraditional (and virtually invisible) processes as using only certified new-growth woods, employing chemical-free landscaping throughout the grounds, filling an outdoor swimming pool with saltwater and decorating rooms with special low-VOC (volatile organic compounds) paints. There are photovoltaic panels on the roof and numerous solar tubes that diffuse sunlight throughout hallways and the lobby area. An innovative heating and air conditioning system balances rooms in groups of six, to moderate their overall energy consumption.

Far more conspicuous are the swans that placidly ply the waters of a pond within their own permaculture micro-ecosystem (designed to use recycled water from the nearby municipal system) and the dual kiosks that stand in the lobby, offering a minute-by-minute account of the hotel’s water and electricity usage and the volume of greenhouse gas emissions being saved through the facility’s multiple conservation measures.

“The 21st century is the century of the ‘experience economy,'” Wen-I says. “We truly want to transform people’s consciousness while being their leisure experience.”

That goal is furthered in small ways, too, such as the ultra-low-flush toilets and waterless urinals in every room, and the use of vinegar rather than petrochemicals for washing windows. Short poems about nature are placed on the nighttime bed pillows, rather than chocolates, and guests will find a copy of Al Gore’s Inconvenient Truth book stocked alongside Gideon’s Bible in a bed-table drawer.

Creating the Gaia Hotel has been an eight-year process. The first two focused on a location in Half Moon Bay, which was ultimately rejected by the local community. Wen-I subsequently spent another four years securing his American Canyon site, and going through a series of three redesigns to fully realize his enviro-Zen vision. Altogether, the four-acre project cost $20 million to design and build, but Wen-I attributes 10 percent to 15 percent of that to “the learning curve” that he and his team hope to avoid repeating in their next hotel projects.

Designing and building a LEED-certified hotel from the ground up is an extreme example of green hospitality, but throughout the industry, climatic consciousness and energy-efficiency savings are becoming almost commonplace. MacArthur Place inn and spa in central Sonoma recently swapped out 1,021 incandescent light bulbs for compact fluorescents, reports financial analyst Stacey Ward. “The ones we couldn’t change, we either reduced the wattage or we already had dimmers in place.” Those were converted to cold cathode bulbs, which unlike the compact fluorescents are dimmable. The changes have cut their power bill by $900 per month, Ward says, which in turn helped support a wholesale retrofit of their HVAC system. But a simple, inexpensive amenity gets more attention from guests. The hotel provides free bicycles for carbonless day trips to nearby wineries, as well as for getting around on the inn’s 64-acre property.

At the nearby Sonoma Valley Inn, the swimming pool has been converted to a salt-water filtration system. Now, says director of operations Alana Wilson, “we’re using a very minute amount of chlorine, so the water is not only better for the environment, but it is also better for the swimwear, which can be really pricey.”

The inn also puts glassware in its rooms rather than disposable paper cups, and encourages guests to pull an extra blanket out of the closet on cool nights instead of turning up the heater.

Both Sonoma hotels encourage visitors to reuse towels and linens for a second or third day, instead of laundering and replacing them daily (“I don’t change mine at home every day,” laughs Wilson), and recycled toner cartridges and other office supplies are a given in their offices.

Other changes merge aesthetics with pragmatic considerations. Osmosis Day Spa in Freestone has recently finished an extensive project that refinished walls inside and out with organic textiles, recycled driftwood and nontoxic paints. Some spaces feature “natural clay wall surfaces created by the local crafts people from Tactile Interiors,” says owner Michael Stusser. He’s also working with a Sebastopol heating and air conditioning company to “evolve” a software-driven system that “monitors temperature and humidity in numerous locations inside and outside the building,” Stusser explains. “When the conditions are right, it draws in outside air to supplement the AC and heating systems.”

Osmosis is also a founding “seed” member of the Green Spa Network, a new trade organization that held its first meeting in Monte Rio last April, where participants agreed to develop and disseminate a “green spa toolkit” of sustainability practices for their colleagues. Mill Valley-based Auberge Resorts, owners of Calistoga Ranch and Auberge du Soleil in Napa County, is another charter member.

“Osmosis sees its greening as a first step in shifting the image of a spa visit away from one of pampering indulgence to a more grounded and holistic experience,” its website explains. “The aim is to create a compelling ‘green spa experience’ that makes the obvious connection between personal and planetary wellness.”

“Humankind is too far, too long away from our true nature,” agrees Wen-I. He sees his green hotel as representing a “first step [in] walking back to our true nature.” And not just in American Canyon. A second Gaia Hotel is already half built along the Sacramento River near Redding, and a third has been designed for a site in Merced. “We’re going to develop eight and try to create a brand,” Wen-I says. “Then we’ll go to IPO and become an affiliation, like Best Western.” The long-range plan envisions 100 participating properties, maybe more.

But Wen-I insists this is not just bottom-line-driven capitalist expansion. “My concept is that business should transform people’s consciousness,” he says. “That’s pretty much the ultimate goal.”


Kelp Cuisine

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Biophilia:
Kelp! | Climate Control Campaign | Georgia Kelly | Why I Hate Being Green | Eco-Hostelry | Shout-Outs | Green String Farms

Kelp man: Rising Tide’s Larry Knowles inspects the day’s crop.

By Alastair Bland

Summer has arrived, and with it early sunrises, long warm days and burgeoning new life along California’s rugged North Coast.

These are the conditions that bring several men in wetsuits to the water’s edge at dawn. It’s 5:30am, the day is just breaking and the tide is low. Each man–OK, one could be a woman, but under the heavy-duty neoprene it’s hard to tell–drags a kayak down the beach and launches into the frigid Mendocino waters, and with several quick paddle strokes, shoots outward over the incoming breakers and onto the wide open sea. These kayakers are hunting, and quarry lurks nearby, yet they carry no diving gear, no spears, no fishing lines and no nets. Such weaponry is not needed in their line of business–only a pair of scissors–for their prey is seaweed.

In four hours, the small operation will snip and clip as much as 600 pounds of various kelps and algae from their comfortable beds in the ocean, taking care not to damage the plants beyond their capability to repair themselves. By 11am, the seamen are landsmen once more. They haul their harvest up to their blue pickup truck, deposit it in the back, pile into the cab and drive two miles inland to the headquarters of Rising Tide Sea Vegetables, the largest sea veggie harvester, producer and wholesaler on North America’s west coast.

Many cultures have used sea vegetables for centuries as a supplemental source of nutrition and simply a good-tasting thing to eat, but in the United States, interest in consuming kelp and algae has gained steam only in the last few decades. Larry Knowles, owner of Rising Tide, says it began with the macrobiotics movement in the 1960s, a trend toward natural and healthy eating which originated in Japanese culinary traditions. Mainstream dining, however, would not take the product seriously for decades, and in California the seaweed trade has puttered along at walking speed since the early 1980s.

This natural food tastes quite good, like fresh chard and smoked sea salt, and is a versatile supplement to soups, salads and stir-fries, but many people harbor a terribly negative image of seaweed. After all, they usually encounter it on the beach in heaps and piles, rotting in the sun and swarming with flies.

“But we don’t harvest seaweed from the beach,” says Kate Marianchild, who founded Rising Tide in 1981. “We get it while it’s alive in the sea.”

Bean0 of the sea: Kumbo not only leaches radioactivity from the body, it makes beans better, too.

As a very efficient absorber of nutrients and particulates, sea vegetables are generally not harvested from polluted regions, and the waters of Mendocino County are considered to be some of the cleanest on the West Coast. Many kelp beds and seaweed patches there go undisturbed year-round by boaters and shore walkers, and the prevailing north-to-south current of the eastern Pacific Ocean carries all the contaminated muck expelled from the Golden Gate southward toward Los Angeles. In remote regions of Oregon, Washington and British Columbia, there live other small seaweed harvesters, and most of these companies, like the handful in California, gather their veggies without the aid of motorized, fume-spewing transport, and most dry their harvest in the sun.

Marianchild left her company to Knowles last year to devote her time to other endeavors, but she credits herself with helping to open up the market and educate the public about sea vegetables. In the very early days, she would harvest by hand all summer, drying her goods in the sun and packing it in baggies. In the winter months, she hit the road with hundreds of pounds of dried seaweed in her truck. Careful not to tread in the market range of the Boonville-based Mendocino Sea Vegetable Company–then one of the only commercial producers in America, and a tiny one at that–she visited community grocery stores and natural-foods retailers in Oregon and Washington. Most people were not interested, yet she gained a few long-term customers on that pioneering road trip, and with time, business would only get better.

Rich Mineral Stew

Knowles reports that in the 12 years since he joined Rising Tide, the company’s seaweed production has increased 10-fold with Americans’ growing interest in health and holistic living. In fact, the Whole Foods Market in Berkeley was one of the first large retailers to pick up Rising Tide’s products in 1992.

Many sea vegetables grow at tremendous rates–30 centimeters or more per day–and those with an interest in sustainable resources have every reason to incorporate marine algae into their diets. Nutrition is another major selling point, and marine vegetation far surpasses most terrestrial leafy greens in nutritional value. Seaweed contains 15 to 20 times the nutrient densities of land plants due to its nearly perpetual immersion in seawater, which is basically a rich solution of many minerals. Various kelp species deserve special mention for their high densities of sodium alginate, a compound that can protect against radiation poisoning.

“Sodium alginate is responsible for the recovery of a lot of people after Chernobyl,” says Marianchild. “It actually removes heavy metals and radioactive isotopes from the digestive system. It’s a great thing to have on hand in case of a radioactive disaster.”

So you might want to bring your dried kelp stores down to the bomb shelter before we attack Iran. You might also stock the shelter with canned tuna, as sodium alginate can also negate the potentially harmful effects of dietary mercury. Kelp, it seems, is truly a wonder food.

Wine-Weed Pairings

While sea vegetables have long been an oddity eaten by back-to-the-landers celebrating the natural offerings of earth and sea, gourmets are now showing interest, and in California there is perhaps no more effective way to hook seaweed into the diet of high-end America cuisine than through wine-food pairings. That, anyway, is what chef Eric Tucker has done at the acclaimed San Francisco vegetarian restaurant Millennium.

Long a fan of eating sea vegetables, Tucker is gradually working kelp and algae into the regular menu at Millennium, and in early May one weekend he featured a five-dish sea-veggie special. Each concoction was paired with an appropriate wine. For example, he partnered his vegan South American tamale with seaweed and cream sauce with a white Sancerre, which Tucker chose as a good match for the spiciness of the dish and the pungent saltiness of the seaweed. Generally, he has aimed at developing wine-weed matches that complement, rather than contrast, one another.

“Dry white wines with a good mineral character, like Riesling, work well,” he says, although big reds may accompany such specimens as sea lettuce, which carries a broad and rounded black truffle essence.

Other local chefs are following a similar path as Tucker, and as America wakes up to the beautiful aromas and flavors of marine algae, John Lewallen, owner of Mendocino Sea Vegetable Company, today based in Philo, reports that in his 28 years in the trade, business has never been so hot.

“The market is in a real boom. I used to have to pump it, but now I can’t even get the mailer out to our customers because I’m too busy taking orders.”

Knowles, too, is pleased with the direction of things. He’s even begun to market one variety of kelp to zoos as far away as Minnesota, where keepers give the long ribbons of algae to the bears as edible playthings. Yet Knowles recognizes that in this fast-food nation he may never get rich off of seaweed.

“I’m now making almost enough to fully support me, and clearly there’s a growing understanding of natural health and organics, and seaweed is a part of that.

“But still,” he chuckles, “it’s not like selling burgers.”

Terry Nieves of Ocean Harvest Sea Vegetable Company is spotlighted on Sunday, June 24, at the Marin County farmers market as part of its ‘Meet the Producer’ series. Terry brings fresh sea veggies to the Civic Center on Thursdays and Sundays, and will speak from 11:30am to 12:30pm that day. Civic Center farmers market, Marin Civic Center, North San Pedro exit off Highway 101, San Rafael. 8am to 1pm. Free. 800.897.3276.

DIY kelp harvesting

Those interested in harvesting sea vegetables on their own may do so with nothing but a California fishing license and a very minimum of specialized equipment. The leafy ends of most algae and kelp are quite tender and make for the best eating; snip off the tips and leave the rest of the plant. Remember that state law forbids taking more than 10 wet pounds of seaweed per day per person.

As a general rule of thumb, most seaweeds are safe to eat. One variety, though, which resembles a feather boa, gives off a sulfury aroma, and when sun-dried, baked and eaten, it will fill your mouth with a thick, unpleasant burning paste that turns your teeth green. (Of course I’ve done it myself, and for days I dared not smile.)

Otherwise, the coast is clear, and all edible seaweeds may be consumed fresh or dried and reconstituted in water, which takes just several minutes. My personal favorite method of preparation is to dry-toast sea veggies in a cast-iron pan. This brings out the fresh-from-the-sea aromas, a flavor that goes well with many Asian spices. Sea vegetables are easily incorporated into soups, stir-fries and salads, and a sesame-soy-miso theme nicely complements the smoky, marine kelp flavor. Consider pairing your seaweed dishes with a Bargetto’s 2005 Santa Cruz Mountain Chardonnay, which itself carries a startling yet intriguing backnote of seaweed.

–A.B.

A tiny primer to the most common kelps

Kombu grows in long, tender ribbons, carries high densities of folate, calcium and magnesium. It also holds glutamic acid, a tenderizer, and when added to a pot of beans, will cause them to cook faster and become more digestible.

Nori is indigenous to the North Atlantic Ocean, but retailers carry it worldwide. Used for sushi rolls in Japanese cuisine, Britons call it “laver” and have traditionally mixed it with rolled oats and fried the mash as a breakfast item.

Wakame is a kelp that is described as looking like a cooked piece of spinach lasagne. The center vein should be cut out before using in cooking.

Finding sea vegetables well inland

Good Earth Natural Foods 1966 Sir Francis Drake Blvd., Fairfax. 415.454.0123.
Oliver’s Market 546 E. Cotati Ave., Cotati. 707.795.9501.
Oliver’s Market 560 Montecito Ave., in the Montecito Center, Santa Rosa. 707.537.7123.
Santa Rosa Community Market 1899 Mendocino Ave., Santa Rosa. 707.546.1806.
Whole Foods Market locations throughout Bay Area
To order direct from the source, go to:
Ocean Harvest Sea Vegetable Company 707.937.1923. www.ohsv.net.
Mendocino Sea Vegetable Company 707.895.2996. www.seaweed.net.
Rising Tide Sea Vegetables 707.964.5663. www.loveseaweed.com.

Yummy yummy on my plate

This recipe is adapted from Rising Tide’s “famous” dish
Gingered Wakame
1 tbsp. olive or toasted sesame oil
2 tbsp. soy sauce
3 medium cloves garlic, chopped
1 tsp. grated ginger
1 tbsp. local honey
1 c. (2/3 bag) dried wakame
Soak wakame in water for 10 minutes. Cut into 1/4-inch strips. Combine all other ingredients in a wok or frying pan and sauté for 2 minutes. Add wakame and simmer for 20-30 minutes, adding soak water as needed.



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Pearl, Interrupted

June 20-26, 2007

In A Mighty Heart–a 1912 film title if ever there was one–Angelina Jolie plays Mrs. Daniel Pearl, the wife of the martyred former Wall Street Journal reporter. In January 2002, Pearl was investigating the links between Pakistani jihadists and the “shoe bomber” Richard Reid, whose name we all routinely curse when trapped at the security gate at the airport. Kidnapped by the people he had tried to interview, Pearl (Dan Futterman) was kept prisoner and eventually horribly murdered. Meanwhile, Mariane Pearl, five months pregnant, waited for news.

Mariane’s real-life memoir is unmuddied by calls for vengeance or by sobbing writing, and director Michael Winterbottom’s cryptodocumentary approach tries to preserve something of her nobility. According to his kidnappers, Pearl was murdered as payback for the terrible conditions at the Cuban military base. Freeing the jihad POWs was one of the demands made by the fanatics who filmed Pearl’s execution and uploaded it on to the Internet. Winterbottom mentions this demand, while showing the brutal methods the Pakistani police used in tracking down and torturing suspects.

Careful not to take sides, Winterbottom nonetheless portrays the Americans as conspirators and loiterers–and, in the case of embassyman Randall Bennett (Will Patton, the go-to actor for portraying government weasels), possessors of a sadistically vengeful streak.

We never join Daniel Pearl in his ordeal. Would it have been encouraging the enemy to look in upon the kidnapper, Omar Sheikh, another apparently civilized Westerner who made his choice for medievalism? The police investigation is slightly more dramatic than the scenes of Mariane Pearl watching, waiting, holding uncomfortable dinner parties and talking into a cell phone.

If Pearl was apolitical, so must we be, since Winterbottom gives us no way to understand the fanatics. Nor is their any suggestion of what Pearl felt, representing the Wall Street Journal as a balanced reporter. In those days, the WSJ’s editorial writers out-hawked the most bloodthirsty D.C. wonks.

But in this tepid and monotonous film, one observes the world-famous diva and waits for the high note. Jolie’s big scene comes when Mariane views the VHS tape (we’re spared it) of her husband’s murder, and wails to the heavens.

Jolie understands that Mariane is the one with the mighty heart, even though Mrs. Pearl was referring to her late husband. What used to make Jolie unique onscreen was her dangerousness. She once had a love affair with edged weapons–is she at her best cast as someone who sits around while someone else gets ready to use a knife?

Here, Jolie tests her new accent–Franco-Cuban–and her new look. She’s coated with skin bronzer and drastic curls dangle on her forehead, making her look as weirdly exotic as the ladies in encaustic funerary portraits of ancient Egyptians. Maybe with a nonstar in the role, Winterbottom would have had a better chance of getting the sense of an ordinary person caught in an inconceivable situation.

But who knows who could save A Mighty Heart? Winterbottom is a director whose reach regularly exceeds his grasp. This is the kind of film that gets short-listed as great because it has a great subject. Those who recommend it realize that few will actually steel themselves to go see it, and far fewer will get back to you to tell you how dull it was.

‘A Mighty Heart’ opens on Friday, June 22, at the Rialto Lakeside Cinemas, 551 Summerfield Road, Santa Rosa. 707.545.2820.


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Letters to the Editor

June 20-26, 2007

Dept. of Horn-tootin’

It’s awards season in the rapidly diminishing halls of journalism, and we at the North Bay Bohemian are no strangers to big, glorious wins. Nor are we overly shy about letting you know exactly how great we are.

How great? Really great.

To wit: At the June 16 meeting of the Association of Alternative Newsweeklies, an organization that counts among its number such venerables as the Village Voice, we are proud to have won two national awards for our editorial product.

In the “60,000 and under” circulation range (we produce 31,000 papers a week), former contributor Daedalus Howell won first place in the Food Writing/Criticism category for while the “Swirl ‘n’ Spit” column was under his aegis. Hooray for Daedalus! (To give delicious contrast, the L.A. Weekly‘s Jonathan Gold won that same position in the “60,000 and above” category. As recently reported in these pages, Gold also just won a Pulitzer.)

In the “special issues” category, our won second place in our circulation category. These nods from our industry colleagues brings to five the number of national awards we’ve won in the last four years, two of them first place.

Continuing in this outrageously immodest vein, we hasten to point out that this year, the Bohemian is the only publication in our association to have won awards for editorial product from the Oregon border to Santa Barbara County. Not those publications with “San Francisco” in their names, nope. Not those with “News & Review,” “Pacific” or “East Bay,” uh huh. Just little old us.

Thanks for reading each week. We’re so proud to serve you so well.

The Ed., Rolling in it

Many of my fans were outraged

I have been the harmonica player with the Pat Jordan Band since the inception of the band several years ago. I was shocked and very disappointed that you omitted my name from (Critic’s Choice, “Pop, Rock, Roll,” June 6). Many of my fans were outraged and called to tell me you had left my name out.

We really appreciate the article and the coverage you gave the band; however, in the future, it makes sense that you would include all the band members’ names when you are going to write an article. You have my information on file since we have won Best of Sonoma County for the past two years.

Dallas Jones, Santa Rosa

Copwatch R Us

I was impressed by your choice to put the “kids” of CopWatch on the cover of the Bohemian ( May 30). I had already scheduled a “Know Your Rights” training by some of the very people Peter Byrne interviewed at the high school where I teach. Celeste and Karin of Petaluma CopWatch and Ben Saari of Santa Rosa kept about 70 teenagers fully engaged for over an hour. With useful advice and some really fun role-play, the students had a ball while learning what kinds of rights they have when confronted by law enforcement. They were no less attentive as when a teen clinic did a sex-education presentation months before. If a presenter can keep that many teens engaged for that long without the use of prophylactics, they are undoubtedly reaching out to them in a relevant and needed way.

I had asked Karin to do this training as a response to the police shooting of Jeremiah Chass in Sebastopol, an Analy student whom many of my students knew personally and were heartbroken by the untimely death of. It doesn’t take the severity of the several recent police shootings for them to understand that law enforcement is prone to abuses of power. I have repeatedly seen teens be targeted for unwarranted police harassment for offenses such as standing in a parking lot while waiting for their ride or for just sitting on the sidewalk with their friends. It was fun and empowering for them to see how young adults can nonviolently resist abuses by law enforcement.

I’d also like to note that there are others of us who have been known to show up to observe the police all over Sonoma County. We are teachers, students, construction workers, interior designers, computer programmers, office managers, health outreach workers, laborers, Ph.D. candidates, librarians and retirees, among others, and not just the “kids” described in your article.

Nicole Poindexter, Russian River Charter High School

Dept. of Corrections

In (“Concrete Complaints,” June 6), we mistakenly switched the identities of the subject and photographer of the main image. The man pictured is Kevin Hoyt; the man behind the camera, Dave Kennedy.

Men, go figure. They all look alike . . .

The Ed., distracted


Wine Tasting

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I had just stepped through the sliding cellar door when Ryan Kaz turned out the lights and plunged the tasting room into darkness. Two light sabers glowed red and blue in front of me. As the opponents parried and thrust their sabers, the air crackled with electric sizzles and at least a few giggles. Who would declare “Now I am the master!” let alone have a go at the requisite metallic breathing? Alas, these were only dueling wine geeks–but they had clearly come to enjoy one of the unexpected moments one expects in the realm of Kaz, where the main trade is as much a cult of personality as cult wine.

Before becoming the president-for-life of the two-acre commonwealth of Kazzystan, Richard Kasmier was a commercial photographer. Some wily muse then directed him to his real life’s work, which is evidently operating the smallest family winery open to the public in the Sonoma Valley. Besides whatever new toys are on hand, the tasting room has more conventional sundries like mustard, hot sauce, T-shirts and posters in which “the Kaz,” looking like a deranged Shakespearean rep player, self-promotes in various guises. In winemaking, Kaz plays fast and loose with oddball grape varietals, creating why-not blends like Sangiofranc (why not Super Francan?). His motto is “No harm in experimenting.”

(At this point, I ought to mention that Swirl ‘n’ Spit’s rigorous standards of journalistic integrity demand full disclosure: I swear to the committee that neither my past relationship in selling grapes to Kaz nor the couple of bottles he floated my way influence this recommendation in any way. Take it with a grain of salt or half a ton of Zin, as you wish.)

Once finished with his swordplay, Kasmier’s son Ryan poured us a weird bird. The 2006 Trixie’s Secret Nebbiola Rosa ($18) has a what-the-heck taste like a meaty red wine, but finishes light and fresh. It was fermented on the skins, but it wanted so much to be a rosé that Kaz went with the flow. The brand-new 2006 Slide Chardonnay, reminiscent of peanut brittle, goes down caramelly smooth. Besides a note of clove, 2004 Red Said Fred ($38) has the hallmarks of many Kaz reds–tangy acidity and shy tannins that trick the tongue into sensing sweetness; Kaz’s organic, low-sulfite winemaking results in fulsome liqueur aromas.

At eight barrels, the mother of all releases, the 2004 Outbound Cab Franc ($35) has a nostalgic barrel-room aroma and blackberry juiciness. Likewise, the juicy 2003 Champs Cabernet Sauvignon ($50) is not your typical Cab but for its eucalyptus hints. Perennial favorite 2002 ZAM (made from Zinfandel, Alicante and Mourvedre) ($65) is a big, brambly blend from the Pagani vineyard. Kaz doesn’t hesitate to own up that it’s made from second-crop grapes–it’s more like a sequel. And speaking of sequels, Kaz also releases a trilogy of ports–White, Blush And Red–under a second label, the Bodega Bay Portworks. Clearly, the force is with him.

Kaz Vineyard & Winery, 233 Adobe Canyon Road, Kenwood. Tasting room open Friday-Monday, 11am to 5pm. $5 tasting fee. 877.833.2536.



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Grue-Bleen Planet

June 20-26, 2007

Biophilia:

Green was my favorite color until I was 11. I liked what it stood for–mainly, the Emerald City. Since the dimming of my tweens, however, the whole spectrum of greens may as well have been smushed into just one dismal value: the dull fluorescence of an energy-saving light bulb.

Throughout my formative years, pundits droned on about doom by global warming, and now I am convinced that there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Not only that, but the green frenzy has become totally annoying in a Paris Hilton kind of way.

I think it was in 1990, fourth or fifth grade, when my greening started. A group of local college kids came to my school auditorium and put on a performance about saving energy. That’s where I learned the classic tooth-brushing lesson: shut the faucet off when you brush your teeth, otherwise you’ll waste five gallons of water. Taking the lesson to heart, I often turned off the spigot when my mom, doing the dishes, left it running too long.

Later that year, my teacher posted a flyer on the classroom wall. Its list of earth-friendly tips suggested, among other things, “Wear a sweater at home.” At the time, this was confusing. What if it was hot?

Now I think back. Over a decade since Jimmy Carter snuggled up in his cardigan and exhorted America to turn the heat down, this is how far we’d come.

Shouldering the entire burden of the “save our planet” mantra, the color green has meanwhile traded its Oz-like magic for survivalist morality.

I once met an astronaut who told me that, while peering at our planet from the space shuttle window, she realized that the earth wasn’t going anywhere. It was a hunk of rock.

It’s not the earth we want to save, but the idea that we Homo sapiens will continue to survive at least a couple generations from now. But what about saving the people who are already here? I considered listing some of the awful things we go through, but, being human, you might already have some idea of what they are. Is our species really worth saving if we can’t get it together enough to take care of each other?

Well, sure.

Maintaining the earth’s climate and resources are worthy activities. But they should be our modus operandi by now. Instead of spending so much time praising green efforts, we should penalize polluting perpetrators. Being green shouldn’t be an exception anymore. It should be as normal as breathing. What’s taking so long?

The first bottle-recycling bill was introduced in 1969. Now, almost 40 years later, we still go through bottled water like Skittles. According to a recent New York Times article, Americans drink 30 billion bottles of single-serving water per year. But these bottles not only take energy and fossil fuel to make and ship, they take energy to recycle, too.

Don’t pollute. OK. Don’t litter. Duh. Don’t use toxic chemicals in your business. Check. Don’t buy bottled water. You bet. It’s just common sense, if you’ve been spoon-fed this stuff since elementary school. For me, trying to be green in this junk-filled environment is depressing. It’s like a new Catholicism, full of guilt and threats of Armageddon.

In many languages, there is no distinction between the colors green and blue. English translators often use the made-up word “grue” to convey this color. In this way, the blue-green earth, as viewed from above, is grue.

But grue has another meaning, too. The late Harvard-educated philosopher Nelson Goodman introduced the term to illustrate a shortcoming of inductive reasoning. As a former philosophy student who hasn’t thumbed through those textbooks in years, I understand grue to mean the following: just because we see an object that’s blue now, doesn’t necessarily mean that we can assume it was blue before we saw it. For all we know, it may have been green. Grue, then, is any object that was observed to be blue after some point in time, or any object that was observed to be green before that point in time. Goodman also coined its opposite: “bleen.”

Like Schrödinger’s cat, another philosophical thought experiment, grue is something you’ve seen before and could characterize then, but now it’s hidden and maybe it’s changed. It’s the unsettling feeling of sticking your hand into a paper bag during Halloween and not being quite sure whether you’re touching eyeballs or just grapes. (Incidentally, grue is also what author Jack Vance calls his monsters in his 1950 Dying Earth series, “the classic science fantasy of the world on the eve of destruction.”)

As global warming continues and the ice caps melt, the earth from above will probably look more and more blue. We’re turning ever grue-er, if you will, and that’s a weird feeling. So far, even if some of our efforts are working, they haven’t been effective enough to turn the process around (yet?). Stuck in grue-ish limbo, the earth is neither here nor there, and somehow the color green is supposed to save us.

As for me, trying to be green hasn’t gotten us anywhere. I’m giving myself up to grue.


The Byrne Report

June 20-26, 2007

Last week, I wandered over to Point Reyes Station to check out the demonstration against Robert Plotkin, the owner, publisher and editor of the Point Reyes Light newspaper. I was shocked by the vehemence of the anti-Plotkin threats emanating from the mouths of the 10 people (not counting five reporters) seething on the sidewalk in front of the newspaper’s office. “Shoplift the Light,” screamed one disheveled guy before he scampered off to do whatever troubled people do in West Marin.

Reyesians, who are mostly affluent, evidently count among their number some folks who eat goat heads on the beach as part of Satanic rituals! Goat heads! They eat them!

That the Light graphically illustrated the goat-head-eating incident on its front cover last year galled the demonstrators. Former Light editor and owner Dave Mitchell said the community newspaper, which won a Pulitzer under his editorship some 30 years ago, has been turned into a “scandal sheet” by the man who paid him $500,000 for it. In compliance with a restraining order against him by Plotkin, Mitchell was careful to keep at least 75 feet from the new owner during the protest, although he did not restrain himself from approaching calumny in our conversation.

(Full disclosure: Last year, Plotkin and I talked about working together, but it did not pan out since I require a living wage. Nor are we on the same political wavelength. He endorsed the RAND Corporation’s Joe Nation for Congress last year over Lynn Woolsey, whom I venerate for her antiwar courage, and he wrote an idiotic editorial praising genetically modified foods. Defying factual reality, he extolled the “Green revolution” that enslaved Third World farmers to Monsanto Corp.’s modified seed stock. But I have not seen any evidence that he has allowed his weird opinions to infect the Light‘s news stories, which are usually professionally reported tales, written with panache and, often, a touch of humor.)

It’s refreshing to see folks up in arms over their newspaper, but their complaints were of little value. Protester Elizabeth Whitney complained that the Light does not cover local news (it does) and accused the Light of the deep conspiracy involved in selling ads to businesses located all the way outside of Point Reyes Station.

Not surprisingly, this absurd demonstration was also attended by Joel Hack and Jim Kravets, who are respectively the publisher and editor of the new West Marin Pilot, a publication that was distributed for the first time on June 1, making Point Reyes perhaps the smallest two-paper town in America. Lacking the Light‘s financial clout and perhaps even its journalism skills, the Pilot‘s inaugural issue was cobbled together with badly printed photos and run-of-the-mill prose, making it dangerously close to the look and feel of the Light under the direction of Mitchell, which was staler than day-old toast.

It seems evident to me that Plotkin breathes journalism day and night, and has responded to the expressed desires of his provincial readers. Local columnists grace the pages every week with information and opinion. The June 7 issue set the record straight on the misguided attempt to shut down the local oyster farm. This summer, two young intern-reporters are doing a series on how global warming will affect West Marin.

It is true that Plotkin, 36, comes across as slightly narcissistic, but if I was surrounded by townies waving pitchforks and whale-oil lanterns, I’d probably be me-centric, too. Could it be that Mitchell, 63, back-stabbed Plotkin by abruptly backing out of a promise to help Plotkin learn the rural publisher-editor role–which makes one a lightening rod for all sorts of disaffected nonsense? In a telephone interview, Mitchell said he walked away from the Light after disagreeing over a photo placement (of Prince Charles, says Plotkin) on the front page. Without getting into sordid details, Plotkin sued Mitchell, who counter-sued. One is said to have attacked the other. Money and careers are at stake. Sides have been taken, knives sharpened.

For his part, Plotkin admits that he has made mistakes, especially in underestimating the “sensitivity” of some people in the community. As a businessman, he is not happy that his personality has become what he terms a “polarizing” issue, which indeed recently prompted an anonymous prankster to print up four-page dummy spoofs of the Light entitled the Point Reyes Dim. But he is justifiably proud of his role in promoting journalistic excellence, while working to turn the Light into a self-supporting enterprise.

As a guy who spends a lot of time basking in the environs of Point Reyes National Seashore, I am happy to see the Light resurrected from the doldrums of mediocrity. The good people of West Marin should be proud of their local newspaper.

or


First Bite

0

June 20-26, 2007

I really want to love the charming, earnest, Red Rose Cafe that opened a few months ago in Santa Rosa. And how could I not? It seems to be everything I want in a restaurant.

It’s family-owned (Arkansas transplants Harold and Nancy Rogers do the cooking, with their bevy of kids and grandkids helping out). It’s as cute as a button, looking like a little cottage with faux brick walls, red vinyl booths and potted plants everywhere. And it serves one of my favorite cuisines: soul food, with Southern staples like barbecue, fried chicken, catfish and sweet potato pie, plus daily specials like smothered pork chops, meatloaf and oxtails.

As a bonus in my book, Red Rose is quirky. Alongside the chicken-fried steak with gravy is a tofu-tempeh scramble and a Thai noodle salad with mint and sweet chili. Perfect for that mixed dining couple of hardcore carnivore and vegetarian, I suppose. Mom and I have certainly come prepared to adore. We’ve greedily ordered way too much food, not because I feel we should (professional duty) but because it all sounds so delicious.

Except now, we’re gnawing on pork ribs ($12.50), easily a full pound mounded in front of us, and the meat nicely edged with glistening fat. But the pork tastes primarily of smoke, and is interesting only when dunked in the mildly spicy-sweet barbecue sauce served on the side. We’re working our way through a pile of catfish fillets ($11.50), the breading gummy and the fish dry, revived only by the juices of very wet collard greens we’ve ordered alongside. We’re picking apart crispy fried chicken ($8.25), hoping for a little more good grease than this pressure-cooked (instead of dunked in sizzling oil) bird can give us.

As we poke at a dish of tepid, boiled-to-mush mac and cheese, and avoid ownership of a hot link ($7.25) that’s one-dimensional cayenne, I sigh. This isn’t the comforting soul food I crave, with deep flavors from achingly slow-cooked tender meat, loads of spunky spices and lots of fat. At least the hot link tastes like something, unlike the watery red beans and rice, or soft-as-paste yams. I focus instead on my salad, an excellent toss of romaine, cucumber, red onion, tomato, mushroom and chopped red pepper in tangy Italian dressing. Cornbread is superb, too, like crunchy edged cake, and mom and I jostle for the last crumbs.

As we wait for our check, I study the menu again. Maybe this visit was on an off day, I tell myself. So the very next week, mom and I are back, anticipating a big brunch of oxtails, rice, gravy and green beans that’s listed as a Sunday special–except that the cafe no longer serves it. Our waitress apologizes, explaining that a menu revamp is underway. Mom settles on the chicken, Belgium waffles and rice ($8.50). I get the chicken fried steak ($8.50). We order a combo of ribs (beef and pork) and catfish, in the spirit of second chances.

But problems abound: the waffle is more like a pancake with grill marks; the poultry is just three skinny wings; and the rice never shows. Mom pushes her fork around forlornly, and wishes for the coffee she’s requested twice now. Despite its light golden breading, the steak is absolutely raw inside, red and gristly when I try to cut into it. Our waitress is appropriately horrified when she sees it, and rushes the mess back to the kitchen. When the new chicken fried steak arrives 20 minutes later, the cheap-grade meat is burned. Pudding-thick brown gravy studded with bacon is no help, and soggy hash browns desperately need crisping, salt and lots of ketchup. No harm’s been done to my side of eggs over easy, but a leaden biscuit isn’t worth the butter spread on it.

When we finally leave, it’s with unsettled stomachs and upset hearts. Because there’s just no kinder way to say it: This rose is seriously wilted.

Red Rose Cafe, 1770 Piner Road, Santa Rosa. Open for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Monday through Saturday; breakfast and lunch, Sunday. 707.573.9741.


Quick-and-dirty dashes through North Bay restaurants. These aren’t your standard “bring five friends and order everything on the menu” dining reviews.

Ask Sydney

June 20-26, 2007

Dear Sydney, I am writing to you as a result of an interesting conversation held with a friend of yours in a writers group in Northampton, U.K. I have written approximately 100,000 words of a lesbian romance/drama. Earlier in the year, I began to write to mainstream agents, eight in total, I believe, plus two mainstream publishers. I sent off the standard three chapters and a synopsis with covering letter. I received negative responses from all.

I’m wondering if I ought to be approaching “specialist” agents and publishers, as I suspect that the mainstream presses are not interested in gay writing. Obviously, there’s always the possibility that my novel is not worthy of publication, that the plot is uninteresting or that my writing is dreadful. But I sort of suspect that there is more to it than this. The conversation came about as the friend of yours is writing a novel where two of the main characters are gay men. He says that at least two-thirds of his novel directly revolves around their story. I asked him if he would be looking for specialist agents/publishers; he didn’t believe that he would have to. I would value an opinion on this debate.–Gay Girl

Dear GG: Gay/lesbian fiction is often considered genre fiction. It doesn’t have to be, but if you don’t mention to an agent or a publisher that your novel deals with gay themes or relationships, and they start reading it, the minute they realize that it’s Suzy and Yvette that are getting it on, they’re going to look back at your cover letter with a big question mark on their face that says, did she mention that this is about gay people?

I don’t know what they have in Britain, but in the States, Writer’s Market is the submitting writer’s bible. Each agent and publisher listed has a list of types of fiction they will consider, and many specify gay/lesbian themes, along with literary fiction, etc. If you do get published, your book may be placed in the gay/lesbian section (they don’t have to label the heterosexual section, because that’s everything else).

You need to decide if you want your work to be pigeonholed. Consider if you are writing about what it means to be gay or if you are writing about what it means to be human and then decide what stance you want to take in regards to representing your own work. If you refuse to allow your work to be genre-fied, then your chances of getting published may diminish, but stand your ground. You need to choose your own route, and then insist upon it. And so what if you are pigeonholed? What’s wrong with being in the gay/lesbian section? Last I checked, they need some more material over there. Let’s work on making the gay/lesbian section fill half the store, shall we? Haven’t there been enough novels written about straight people?

Dear Sydney, last week I came home from work tired, hungry and stressed out. I started to cook dinner. I got the pasta pot boiling and the hamburger browning. As I sipped a fine glass of Cabernet Franc, I started to feel good. And then I tried to twist off the jar lid to the spaghetti sauce. It wouldn’t move. I turned and turned and still it wouldn’t budge. I twisted and twisted with all my might, and still no movement.

As that immoveable spaghetti jar top started to represent everything that has gone wrong in my life, I became enraged. With a furious roar à la Howlin’ Wolf, a gyration à la Elvis and a twist à la Chubby Checker, I proceeded to twist my body down to the ground, and then twisted it back up. I was furious! Who are these capitalistic pigs who put these lids on these jars anyway? I mean, I am an able-bodied person, so what are little old ladies suppose to do? This is indicative of those sociopaths from Enron and that other capitalistic pig on the hill, but I bet he has a butler to open his jars of spaghetti sauce, so he doesn’t care!

As I was performing this song and dance of rage, I looked across the gulley and realized my neighbor had seen the whole thing and probably heard my roaring due to our mutually open kitchen windows. Her face was a whiter shade of pale, and from her perspective, she could not see the spaghetti sauce jar so God only knows what she thought I was doing. I furtively held up the jar with a weak smile, but it was too late–she had snapped the shutters closed in order to obliterate the sight of me.

I don’t know my neighbor very well, as I am new here. Should I write her a note explaining things? I think if I showed up at her door she’d surely call the police, or worse yet, she might shoot me. I finally did open that jar, but I was too upset to eat my spaghetti. The dog seemed to enjoy it, though.–Ignatious O’Reilly

Dear Iggy: First and foremost, let’s deal with the jar issue. I’m sure you know the usual tricks: hit the bottom, pry around the inside of the lid with a butter knife to try and release the seal, and, one of my personal favorites, breathe in, breathe out, deep breaths, then untwist with a deep exhalation. As strange as this may seem, I find this technique very effective in a “use the force” sort of way. There are also a number of lid-poppers available in local markets that claim to get the lid off anytime, anywhere. You might consider investing in something of this nature. I just bought my mother one of those “guaranteed to open any jar” lid-poppers for only a few bucks. She has a bad wrist.

As for your poor neighbor, you can pretend it never happened and let time heal her wounds. Surely you will be able to win her over with enough friendly greetings, pulling to the side of the road to let her pass and slowing down so that you don’t run over her cat. If your good will is clear, she will probably be able to forget about the incident, or at least block it out. After all, at her age, she’s probably seen a lot worse than a little jar wrestling. Most women have. Buy her one of those jar openers I just got for Mom. Then, at a time when your neighbor is out in her yard, grab it and take it over to her. Tell her that you had such a dastardly time getting the top off of that jar of spaghetti sauce the other night (perhaps she remembers seeing you wrestle with it?). Then you found this miraculous item, which works so well you decided to buy her one, too. Just on impulse. That should endear you to her eternally. If it doesn’t, she probably isn’t good friend material anyway. At least you tried.

‘Ask Sydney’ is penned by a Sonoma County resident. There is no question too big, too small or too off-the-wall. Inquire at www.asksydney.com or write as*******@*on.net.

No question too big, too small or too off-the-wall.


New Age of New Age

0

June 20-26, 2007

Biophilia:

Small incidents sometimes have enormous consequences. Many great and history-changing movements can be traced back to a single brief, almost trivial-sounding moment: a prank involving men dressed as Indians dumping tea into a harbor; a slight parliamentary change involving the distribution of votes in pre-Revolution France; a decision not to change places on a bus. From such innocuous events sprang the American and French revolutions and the Montgomery bus strike. For musician-activist Georgia Kelly of Sonoma, such a moment took place in a coffee shop more than 15 years ago, one that has had a profound effect on her life ever since and may one day prove to have been the start of a major international movement.

“I remember sitting in the Depot Cafe in Mill Valley in 1991, talking with a friend about the first Gulf War,” says Kelly, a renowned harpist and speaker who, at that time, was involved in organizing antiwar forums and public protests against American operations in Iraq. “There was a woman sitting near us,” she continues. “She was sitting with a man and could overhear us talking about the war, and she suddenly said, very loudly, ‘I am so glad war is not a part of my reality.’ War was not a part of her reality? I thought, ‘Am I going to engage this or am I going to let it go?'”

She decided the moment was too important to let pass without saying something, so she turned to the woman and said, “Isn’t it fortunate that you have the luxury of not worrying about war because you’re in Mill Valley at the Depot Cafe.” An argument ensued, and neither party left the conversation feeling better about the world. But the incident left Kelly with a smoldering realization that some people in America–many of them part of the New Age movement she had been a part of as one of the first “superstar” New Age musicians–had become too wrapped up in their own experiences of living to believe they had a responsibility to work for change in the world around them. Though it would be influenced and inspired by a number of other people over the years, that incident in Mill Valley resulted, in part, in Kelly’s formation of the Praxis Peace Institute, a nonprofit organization formed to educate on the subject of peace, to promote responsible citizenship and to work toward the goal of ending war on the planet.

“I wouldn’t have said it like that today,” Kelly says of her communication with the woman in the coffee shop, sipping a cup of coffee in yet another coffee shop, this one in downtown Sonoma, where she lives. Today, Kelly considers herself a “student of conflict resolution” and is renowned as a skilled and articulate expert on the peaceful handling of confrontation. Fifteen years after she overheard a stranger say that war is not a part of her personal reality, Kelly feels that apathy, self-involvement and a narcissistic obsession with self-improvement–some of the hallmarks of the New Age movement–are still a major part of America’s arguable lack of interest in the condition of the rest of the world.

For Kelly, this realization was supported when she read 1971’s Culture of Narcissism by Christopher Lasch, in which Lasch describes the Zeitgeist evolving in America at that time as, while undeniably self-absorbed, clearly powered by a feeling of impotence with the political system. According to Lasch, the phenomenon of people turning to increasingly commercial spiritual practices that gave the appearance of spiritual depth was an attempt to avoid political involvement.

“The result of that is that people began turning inward, bailing from the political system and involvement as citizens,” Kelly says. “So we ended up with Reagan and neoconservatives and a whole back-rolling of the things we thought we’d accomplished in the ’60s. The country has slipped so far back from the progress we’d made, it’s heartbreaking, and yet very few seem to care.”

In Kelly’s view, the lack of action on the part of so many left-leaning, spiritually inclined Americans–their disenfranchised relationship with the political world–is one of the first things that will have to change in this country if peace is ever to be truly achieved.

“Because we have the luxury of living in a country that is not all that likely to be bombed today or tomorrow–as happens every day in some countries–there is the option of opting out and saying, ‘I’ll meditate for peace, but I’m not going to write my congresswoman or write letters or go to marches, because that’s giving in to the spiritual disruption of war,'” Kelly says. “I don’t know if anyone would say that now, after 9-11, but I think it’s still an indicator of that kind of consciousness that bails from the political reality and says, ‘That’s not my reality. That’s not my world. I don’t need to know anything about it.’ That kind of thinking allows the real power-mongers to grab power and hold it, because [the meditators] are not engaged in the process that could prevent that.”

The Praxis Peace Institute now organizes conferences and forums around the world, events that bring people together to discuss strategies for avoiding violent conflict. In early June, Praxis sponsored such a conference in Dubrovnik, Croatia, an international event bearing the title “Transforming Culture: From Empire to Global Community.” It featured presentations by author Riane Eisler (author of The Chalice and the Blade), politician Tom Hayden, author Hazel Henderson (Beyond Globalization) and writer Thom Hartmann (Screwed: The Undeclared War Against the Middle Class).

Closer to home, Kelly will hold a major conflict resolution workshop in August at that bastion of New Age introspection, the Esalen Institute in Big Sur. According to Kelly, Praxis–while stirring in her head for many years–came into solid form during the first major peace conference she helped organize in the mid-1990s, shortly after she had left the United States for a six-month stay in Yugoslavia. She was living in Croatia when it seceded from Yugoslavia.

“I realized then that there was no escape from war,” she says. “We really have to deal with the reasons we are recycling the same wars over and over again without learning any lessons from the history of wars. If we do study the history of war, it’s to pick and choose what lesson we want to learn and ignore everything else, so that we can justify what we’ve already decided to do. We refuse to think of war in terms of the big picture, and that’s why we keep repeating the same mistakes.

“Why,” she continues, “when the 20th century had spawned so much spiritual introspection and searching and renewal and awakening, had the same century seen so many wars and conflicts, genocides and deaths? What aren’t we understanding? What’s not working? That’s what I want to find out.”

Sometimes, though, the big picture dissolves in the face of individual stories of war and violence. Kelly remembers an electrifying speaker who quietly shared his story at Praxis’ first major international conference in 2000, also in Dubrovnik. An Irish man, he was a trained killer who’d been adopted into a Catholic family in Ireland and trained to kill Protestants, because his adopted parents didn’t want their own children to have blood on their hands.

The story of his emergence from a life of war, violence and hatred, and the moment he made the decision that he’d never kill again, was one of the lightning-rod moments that convinced those in attendance that the work they’d begun there would have to continue, and that what they were dealing with was so much more than large countries attempting to dominate one another for political and economic reasons. War, it seems, would have to be uprooted from every culture and every heart in which it had taken hold.

It is an unthinkably overwhelming undertaking, but Kelly believes that ending war on earth is possible. But it will require commitment from many who currently have no place in their realities for such disturbing thoughts. The movement, she believes, begins with asking questions. Praxis’ original commitment was, as Kelly puts it, “to always be involved in inquiry, to never allow ourselves to think that we have all the answers. Our job is to set the inquiries, to bring the people together to have discussions, to see what we can learn from the experts, but also to seek out experts who do not think they have all the answers, experts who ask questions rather than letting themselves be locked into an ideology.”

Ending war, also, may require some people to get their hands dirty.

“Creating peace is not about doing magic and thinking good thoughts,” says Kelly. “Creating peace will be hard, hard work.”

To learn more about the Praxis Peace Institute, go to www.praxispeace.org.


Green Rooms

Biophilia: Kelp! | Climate Control Campaign | Georgia Kelly | Why I Hate Being Green | Eco-Hostelry | Shout-Outs | Green String...

Kelp Cuisine

Biophilia: Kelp! | Climate Control Campaign | Georgia Kelly | Why I Hate Being Green | Eco-Hostelry | Shout-Outs | Green String Farms ...

Pearl, Interrupted

June 20-26, 2007In A Mighty Heart--a 1912 film title if ever there was one--Angelina Jolie plays Mrs. Daniel Pearl, the wife of the martyred former Wall Street Journal reporter. In January 2002, Pearl was investigating the links between Pakistani jihadists and the "shoe bomber" Richard Reid, whose name we all routinely curse when trapped at the security gate at...

Letters to the Editor

June 20-26, 2007Dept. of Horn-tootin'It's awards season in the rapidly diminishing halls of journalism, and we at the North Bay Bohemian are no strangers to big, glorious wins. Nor are we overly shy about letting you know exactly how great we are. How great? Really great. To wit: At the June 16 meeting of the Association of Alternative Newsweeklies,...

Wine Tasting

Grue-Bleen Planet

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The Byrne Report

June 20-26, 2007Last week, I wandered over to Point Reyes Station to check out the demonstration against Robert Plotkin, the owner, publisher and editor of the Point Reyes Light newspaper. I was shocked by the vehemence of the anti-Plotkin threats emanating from the mouths of the 10 people (not counting five reporters) seething on the sidewalk in front of...

First Bite

June 20-26, 2007I really want to love the charming, earnest, Red Rose Cafe that opened a few months ago in Santa Rosa. And how could I not? It seems to be everything I want in a restaurant. It's family-owned (Arkansas transplants Harold and Nancy Rogers do the cooking, with their bevy of kids and grandkids helping out). It's as...

Ask Sydney

June 20-26, 2007 Dear Sydney, I am writing to you as a result of an interesting conversation held with a friend of yours in a writers group in Northampton, U.K. I have written approximately 100,000 words of a lesbian romance/drama. Earlier in the year, I began to write to mainstream agents, eight in total, I believe, plus two mainstream publishers....

New Age of New Age

June 20-26, 2007Biophilia: Small incidents sometimes have enormous consequences. Many great and history-changing movements can be traced back to a single brief, almost trivial-sounding moment: a prank involving men dressed as Indians dumping tea into a harbor; a slight parliamentary change involving the distribution of votes in pre-Revolution France; a decision not to change places on a bus....
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