Lafferty Ranch

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No Access


Michael Amsler

Eye on the prize: Lafferty Access Committee members Laurel Hagan, James Mobley, and Robert Ramirez at the disputed entrance to Lafferty Ranch, a city-owned parcel that remains a civic battleground.

Road to Lafferty Ranch fraught with trouble

By Paula Harris

IT WAS A MILD SUMMER evening around 8:30 as Petaluma City Councilman David Keller and his wife, Allison, negotiated their car up the steep, winding road to Lafferty Ranch last month. As an elected official, Keller planned to assess the city-owned property atop Sonoma Mountain–which the city is planning to turn into a public park–for potential fire danger, pending an environmental impact report.

He didn’t get very far.

Just after the Kellers pulled into a turnout in front of the 270-acre ridgetop property–the subject of a five-year civic battle–rancher Peter Pfendler, a Lafferty Ranch neighbor, reportedly halted his car in the middle of Sonoma Mountain Road, jumped out of the vehicle, and began demanding to know who the Kellers were and what they were doing.

Although Keller identified himself that June evening, Pfendler reportedly threatened to have the councilman’s car towed and snapped photos. He was joined by a second neighbor, and a verbal skirmish ensued.

While city officials have a right to access Lafferty, a 433-square-foot strip of land leading to the ranch is still under ownership dispute, and mountain residents are not giving in. Pfendler, who led the battle to purchase Lafferty Ranch, heads the exclusive Sonoma Mountain Conservancy, a group of mostly anonymous landowners fighting to keep the public off the mountain property. The group has hired a cadre of consultants and has threatened litigation if the public access is instituted.

These days, Keller won’t go near Lafferty Ranch. “The situation is too dangerous,” he says.

The Keller confrontation is just the latest chapter in the long, heated struggle among Sonoma Mountain landowners, city officials, and residents who have fought for public access to an area some call the city’s crown jewel. In the latest round, members of a city-appointed committee say they have developed “the least-impacted public park in the history of the world.” Conservancy members argue that public use, with all its attendant problems (real or imagined), will destroy the pristine nature to which advocates of a Lafferty Ranch park are drawn. “How can you enhance wilderness by injecting it with public access?” asked conservancy representative Keith Gurnee in a recently published report.

It all began with a controversial land-swap proposed by the wealthy Pfendler, who owns the less desirable Moon Ranch, which he wanted to exchange for Lafferty Ranch plus $1.4 million. Pfendler did receive $1.2 million for development rights to Moon Ranch, but the rest of the swap was thwarted in 1996 by voters after a divisive debate. Public opinion polls ran 3-1 against the swap, and the Petaluma City Council eventually endorsed a plan to let voters decide Lafferty’s fate. In three days, swap opponents gathered enough signatures to place the measure on the 1996 ballot. Meanwhile, swap proponents prepared two countermeasures. City and county officials later discovered that more than 2,000 signatures on the pro-swap initiatives had been forged.

City officials have spent the past two years developing a park plan, and the conservancy has become increasingly vocal in its opposition. The group has protested steadfastly that public access would create fire hazards, traffic congestion, and other problems; and a Sonoma County judge recently refused to allow limited public tours of the property that would enable people to comment on the project’s draft environmental impact report. The EIR found that such concerns as increased fire hazards, traffic, crime, and geological and wildlife disturbances could be adequately addressed through precautionary measures. But it also noted that the narrow, undulating rural road, which is owned by the county, needs major improvements because it does not adhere to national standards.

“The EIR is an inch thick,” says Hank Zucker, spokesman for the ad hoc Citizens for Lafferty committee. “The experts disproved just about all the objections, but we know we’re going to get sued regardless.”

“Safety is the biggest issue,” says Sonoma Mountain resident Anna Arntz. “The city can’t answer a number of questions. How will the park be supervised, how will it be staffed, and who is going to close the gate? The city is asking us to put a park here and it’s asking us to police it.”

She adds that the road to Lafferty is hazardous. “It’s winding and very bumpy and there’s poor visibility,” she says. A couple of years ago, Arntz had to call 911 after a car full of teenagers crashed, shearing a telephone pole and killing one boy, she notes.

“Maybe the city shouldn’t have built so many houses in the city limits and left more green in town,” Arntz muses. “Why can’t people just drive up to the Lafferty gate, see how far they can see from there, and then go home?

“Do people really have to walk the property to enjoy the view?”

Robert Ramirez of the Lafferty Access Committee, which is helping to design the park, says the public has a right to enjoy the open space and the sweeping views afforded by Lafferty Ranch. “This is an incredible piece of land. You can be above everything literally 10 minutes away from your house,” he says. “You can’t find that elsewhere without doing some driving. Up there, you can be a much calmer person in this high-anxiety lifestyle.”

Under the Lafferty access plan, the city proposes to install a parking lot, fencing, trails, and a 20,000- gallon water tank, Ramirez says. The park would be maintained by the city’s Parks and Recreation Department, and police would patrol the park regularly.

“The park would be open from dusk to dawn, and the gates would be locked at night,” Ramirez explains.

The Petaluma Planning Commis-sion could forward the issue to the City Council for a vote on Aug. 24. If the council approves the EIR, Ramirez says, the park improvements could begin immediately.

Meanwhile, residents shut out by the conservancy will have to settle for a virtual tour of Lafferty Ranch via a new website at www.laffertyranch.org, which includes photos and a history of the property.

“People can ‘walk through’ even if they can’t actually step on the land,” says Ramirez.

No doubt Sonoma Mountain landowners would like to keep it that way.

From the July 23-29, 1998 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Pagan Kennedy

Punk Passion

‘The Exes’ cheats readers with a quicky tale of rock-star love

By Jessica Feinstein

WE’LL CALL ourselves the Exes,” says Lilly, one of the four voices in Pagan Kennedy’s latest novel, The Exes (Simon & Schuster; $22). “And the thing is, we will be exes–everyone in the band will have gone out with someone else in the band.”

Hank, Lilly’s ex-boyfriend who still has indention marks on his body from sleeping in her art supply- infested bed, wonders what he ever saw in her as a lover, but realizes they have a better, purer kind of connection through music. Now all they need is another ex-couple to fill in on bass and drums.

Enter bass prodigy Shazia, a “good Muslim girl” turned bisexual rock star, and her ex, Walt, a manic- depressive scientist who spends his free time hammering on the walls and working at the post office. This prefab foursome rises to local fame in Boston’s musical underground with whip-smart grungy songs about dismemberment and Band-Aids. Lilly leads the band onstage, while Hank acts as manager, evoking more and more resentment within the ranks as the Exes charm college audiences along the East Coast. Each finds love with non-bandmates, but of course there’s the inevitable sexual tension on tour and plenty of nasty in-fighting.

Kennedy has separated the story in The Exes into four parts–each character gets a long chapter to move the tale along. At some point in the chapter, its respective character gives the reason for staying close to a former lover: “At this point, we’re like family.” Unfortunately, while each voice is well crafted with details and background, they all sound relatively the same.

Hank and Lilly come first, but by the time Shazia and Walt have a go at the action, ex-couple No. 1 become less sympathetic rather than more developed. The novel leaves off without truly resolving anything about the band’s future, and for its expensive price tag, the reader doesn’t get much more than a few hours’ worth of story.

That’s not to say The Exes isn’t entertaining. Kennedy knows her subject–after all, she first rocketed to Gen-X glory by publishing her quirky but deeply hip personal ‘zine, Pagan. In Exes, she deftly captures the feel of the punk rock scene with allusions to great bands gone bad and the sights and smells of it all (the heady odor of a freshly unwrapped CD is compared to “sugar dissolved in brake fluid” and “an acid trip coming on”). Lilly’s hyperactive megalomania is amusing, and the descriptions of her dreadlocks and striped stockings summon images of every Haight Street wannabe this side of the Mississippi. Shazia proves to be by far the most interesting Ex, as she works to conceal her religious origins from the rest of the band and obscure her own intriguing reasons for not wanting to be famous. Walt gets the short shrift by having to finish up the Exes’ story; Kennedy saddles her weakest character with this task while revealing his thoughts last.

The hardest part of succeeding with a multiple-voiced book is not invalidating each version of “reality” with every new character (Russell Banks pulls this off masterfully in The Sweet Hereafter.) The Exes is certainly sexy, with all the pseudo-incestuous affairs designed to titillate cynical 20-something minds. And, c’mon, we all wish we were hip enough to be in an indie band on the brink of stardom. But while Kennedy deftly captures that mood, in the end she leaves a reader wishing she had gotten more for her money.

Book Bits

CHECK OUT the Aug. 2 interview with English playwright Tom Stoppard at 8 p.m. on “A Novel Idea,” the on-air book club at KRCB 91.1FM. Host Janine Sternlieb will also host a discussion of Stoppard’s play Arcadia. Those who find the playwright’s work challenging (or even impenetrable) can call the station at 585-6284 to obtain a reader’s guide.

Cooperfield’s Books is still booking authors for its fall events schedule, but a sneak peak at the rough draft reveals some exciting names: Gualala writer J. California Cooper will appear Sept. 29 to promote a soon-to-be released novel; former Santa Rosa resident Greg Sarris (author of Watermelon Nights) will appear Oct. 17; and farmer/poet David Mas Masumoto will appear Oct. 19. No word yet about which Copperfield’s location will host which authors. This is by no means a complete list: Copperfield’s expects the full fall schedule to be available in late August.

From the July 23-29, 1998 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Talking Pictures

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Catfight


Nancy Bennett Evelyn

Nature lover: Author Barry Lopez turns an critical eye on ‘Passion in the Desert.’

Author Barry Lopez gets passionately angry about ‘Passion in the Desert’

By David Templeton

David Templeton takes interesting people to interesting movies in his ongoing quest for the ultimate post-film conversation. This time out, he teams up with esteemed nature writer Barry Lopez to see the adventure film Passion in the Desert.

BARRY LOPEZ pushes through the swinging double doors, which close behind us with a reverberating thwap-thwap-thwap as we stand blinking in the bright light of the sunny afternoon. Glancing back in the direction of the little dark screening room we’ve just escaped, Lopez shudders perceptibly, as if to shake off the memory of the film we’ve just seen.

“I found it tremendously offensive,” he says of Passion in the Desert, an adaptation of Honoré de Balzac’s 19th-century novella about a despicable French soldier–lost in the Egyptian desert and pursued by evil, bumbling Bedouins–who develops a dysfunctional, semi-erotic bond with a female leopard. Lopez, whose award-winning work (Arctic Dreams, Of Wolves and Men) has for years offered poetic and keenly focused insights into the natural world–and humankind’s disturbing love-hate relationship with that world–has no problem with the idea of the film or, at least, the idea of Balzac’s original work. It was merely the film’s simple-minded execution of that idea–and what my guest detected as its unsettling underlying message–that has provoked his considerable moral outrage.

“Briefly,” he calmly declares, taking a seat at a nearby cafe and pulling his undoctored mug of coffee even closer, “this film was a complete adolescent fantasy, a piece of psychotic European racist rubbish.”

That’s the brief version.

But Lopez is hardly finished. In fact, throughout the next half hour, while seldom raising his baritone above the soft volume of casual conversation, this esteemed adventurer–a man who’s visited both the Moab region of Utah and the mysterious deserts of Jordan, those two very different locations that were made to stand in for Egypt in the film–repeatedly finds himself searching for the best words with which to sum up the essential baseness of Passion in the Desert.

“It’s all about white power,” he observes at one point. “It’s about the ineptitude of indigenous people, the interchangeability of landscapes–it doesn’t make a damn bit of difference whether you’re in Utah or Jordan–it’s all crap.” Later, he says, “It’s all the notion that nature is window dressing for human ideas. It’s a film made outdoors by people who live indoors and have never been outdoors in their lives.”

In reference to a scene in which the soldier, driven to jealousy by the intrusion of a frisky male leopard, weaves a rope and ties up the female, he says, “The whole thing was patently misogynist. Why in God’s name did he tie her up? I’ll tell you why. Because ‘The bitch wouldn’t do what she was told.’ I’m telling you, this stuff is at the heart of modern pornography. Some bad films you just let go of afterwards because they’re silly, but this–this thing has a component of evil in it.”

Ultimately, debating the film’s comparison to old Tarzan movies, Lopez offers, with a hint of chuckle, “Oh, I think Tarzan is a cut above this. I’d rather have seen two hours of Johnny Weissmuller,” followed by, “I just want to go home and take a shower to get this film off of my skin,” and finally, “Frankly, I was embarrassed for the animals.”

But back to the idea of the film.

What about the notion that “civilized” people, cut off from society and lost in the wild, might end up discovering a bit of ancient wildness within themselves, might be altered forever by the enormity of that experience? These are thoughts that have always intrigued human beings, including such authors as Rudyard Kipling, Jack London, Louise Erdrich, Walt Whitman, and Gretel Erlich. In Lopez’s own work, especially his stunning new collection of essays–About This Life: Journeys on the Threshold of Memory–an open-eyed and open-minded observance of the natural world always results in profound emotional transformation.

“It’s the great European longing for reunion with nature,” Lopez nods. Extending his left hand, he tightens it into a grasp, explaining, “We’re always trying to find a way to hold on to our highly technological suburban lives, and yet still–” (here he sets his right hand, palm open upward, on the table) “–and yet still stay in touch with nature. But nobody wants to say that the cause of this,” raising the left hand, “is the death of that,” raising the right. “Or at least it’s the death of segments of it.”

Above all, Lopez’s strong reaction seems based in his awareness that many of us tend to unquestioningly accept what we see on television and in films. Because most people are denied the globe-hopping close contact with nature that Lopez has been fortunate to experience, our ideas of that world are formed by secondhand means, be they accurate depictions or not.

“It’s analogous to the problem in nature photography today,” he elaborates, “in that you can no longer trust anything you see photographed in a magazine. You take an animal and photograph it at the zoo, then you take a landscape and photograph it over here, and you just glue them together–whether the animal ever lived in that landscape or whether it behaved like that, we don’t know anymore.”

Pausing again, he sips thoughtfully at his cup.

“You know, no one can figure all this stuff out for themselves–that’s why we have neighbors,” he says. “But in a country such as ours we are made to feel isolated. That’s the only way that consumerism will work–to split everybody up, and to make sure that nobody shares, either things or ideas. We’re each sitting alone in the theater, separate from one another, consuming puerile fantasy.”

“But if you have a neighbor, you can ask them what they thought, and they might say, ‘Well, you know, I’ve been to Egypt and I’m familiar with the history of ideas in France at the time Balzac was writing, and I can offer these insights.’ So in that way, everyone can pool what they know, and then turn to the charlatan and say, ‘We don’t want you in here. You can’t come in here again. You are a danger to our children.'”

“As far as Passion in the Desert goes, I’d prefer that we never have to explain this film to a child, to explain what’s wrong with it, to explain how it cheats us of nature’s true beauty. I’d prefer,” he concludes, the hint of a chuckle returning, “that it just dried up and drifted away.”

From the July 23-29, 1998 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Chez Marie

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Country Comfort

Love that country pie: Angie Lewis and Shirley Palmisano have created a festive west county restaurant with all the flair of a Mardi Gras celebration.

Chez Marie owners find the good life in Forestville

By Marina Wolf

THE AFTERNOON air on Forestville’s main drag is hazy with the last overcast day of early summer. A glance through the screen door leading to Chez Marie’s dining room reveals only a roomful of sturdy chairs and on the wall old-time photos of somber children. But a knock on the screen and a timid halloo bring forth a bustle of activity from two smiling women, who set a piece of pecan pie and a cup of coffee in front of their visitor faster than you can say “cream, please.” The pie perfumes the room with bourbon. Though alcohol in cooking usually isn’t supposed to have an intoxicating effect–“it carries the flavor,” explains Shirley Palmisano in a characteristic outburst of cooking wisdom–this humble dessert gives up a pleasantly warm buzz after the third bite.

All the better to appreciate that mysterious blend of atmosphere and cuisine–hearty Cajun and heartfelt country French–that Palmisano, and Angie Lewis, her partner of 35 years, have created for almost a decade at the simple wooden storefront wedged between a rug store and a liquor purveyor.

Palmisano and Lewis fell in love with the area after years of venturing forth from an unsatisfying urban habitat–in their case, San Francisco–for canoe trips and Christmas trees. When Palmisano’s midlife crisis/Saturn return kicked in and she decided to quit her job as a clinical lab technician, Forestville was the undisputed choice.

What the two women would do once they landed was never in doubt either. “We knew from the get-go, from the time she decided to change careers,” says Lewis, who continued putting in hours as a nurse in San Francisco hospitals until her retirement three years ago. “I said, ‘That’s fine, but you gotta go and get some education. I want you to go to school somewhere, so we know what you have and what you don’t.'”

As it turned out, Palmisano had plenty: she began teaching classes at the California Culinary Academy right after graduating from that prestigious school. She is careful not to say a word against the institution or its faculty, but that teaching gig must have felt good after 18 months of condescension and grunt-work. At one point, the academy instructors were even directing Palmisano and classmates on the finer points of peeling an onion. “The idea, you see, is to make you feel as though you’re a little apprentice back in the old country,” says Palmisano with a smirk. “That’s difficult to do to a 40-year-old woman.”

Especially a 40-year-old French-Italian-American who simmered in New Orleans cooking and culture longer than a rabbit in a stew pot. Anything less than fluent mastery of the basics of good cooking could almost be considered a genetic mutation.

“I didn’t appreciate the home that I came from,” says Palmisano between sips of good strong coffee. “The French side of my family did all the classical French, but they were little bastard dishes. Instead of it being court bouillon [a fine fish stock], I grew up knowing it as coo-bee-yong.” Her jaw swings sweet and low to accommodate the Cajun twang. “Cajuns used the same techniques as classical French, and added the fresh things that were around them.”

PALMISANO continues this tradition today, preparing almost everything on-site–bread and all–and procuring most of it from surrounding farms. The women grow crowded half-barrels of sorrel and other herbs in the smallish backyard behind the restaurant and occasionally offer some homegrown lettuce or tomatoes to lucky diners.

Even the purple and green beaded necklaces spilling over the tables for their Tuesday-through-Thursday Cajun cafe were hand-harvested by the two women over the past couple of years at New Orlean’s Mardi Gras celebration.

This gathering instinct might explain some other things, like the battery of copper pans along the ceiling and the 1,500 cookbooks that line the walls of the cozy apartment off the dining room (“I read them like novels,” Lewis admits). The two women even seem to collect customers. Chez Marie draws in a steady stream from both local folk and devoted travelers, one of whom dropped in during an SSU conference on the advice of her neighbor in Ithaca, N.Y.

OTHER THAN by word of mouth, the restaurant isn’t advertised and is rarely reviewed; the only text coming out of the kitchen is the simple menu and an occasional newsletter.

But with Palmisano the sole kitchen worker and Lewis greeting and waiting on tables, the two don’t have time to put a lot of work into outreach. They don’t need to.

“When you come through our door, Angie’s incredible,” says Palmisano. “She knows everybody.”

Lewis accepts the praise rather shyly, but answers readily when asked how things have changed for them as a couple since taking on the restaurant, which is named for their mothers May and Mary. “We’re learning new and different things,” she says as she rests her hands in her lap. “I’m learning how to not always be in control, and she’s learning how to step on me gracefully.”

“That was nicely put,” chuckles Palmisano, who is carefully forking into a piece of pie.

Lewis forges on: “We’re in different roles.”

“And we have fun,” says Palmisano. “We don’t work any more.” Then she reconsiders. “Well, no, we work our butts off sometimes, we work hard physically, but we’ve never enjoyed work as much as we do now.”

“And,” interjects Lewis into her partner’s interjection, “I get to do what I went into nursing for. It’s all about taking care of people.”

Indeed. “Ministering angel” doesn’t begin to describe the person who serves up such a pie.

Southern Pecan Pie

A splash from the bottle makes this treat something to eat slowly, with many pauses to sniff appreciatively. The only thing that could stand up better than coffee to the aromatic sweetness would be coffee with another slug of liquor.

3 eggs 1 cup light corn syrup 1 cup white sugar 1/3 cup melted unsalted butter 1 1/2 tsp. vanilla 1 tbsp. good Southern whiskey or bourbon 1/2 pound shelled pecans 9-inch deep-dish pie shell

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a bowl, break and lightly beat eggs. Add corn syrup, sugar, butter, vanilla, and liquor. Mix well and set aside. Place pecans in pie shell and gently pour liquid mixture over them. Bake for approximately 50 minutes.

From the July 23-29, 1998 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Scoop

Gossips R Us

Matt Drudge’s sordid tryst with a banana

By Bob Harris

THIS JUST IN: Kenneth Starr is secretly attacking witnesses with nerve gas. OK, that’s not exactly true. I actually have no information whatsoever that the special prosecutor is using nerve gas to try to compel testimony. In fact, he very probably isn’t.

Normally, I wouldn’t go around just making stuff up, but suddenly it’s the fashionable thing to do these days. The rules of journalism are starting to look curvier than Out of Sight film actress Jennifer Lopez doing the limbo in a fisheye mirror.

Look what’s happened just in the last couple of weeks:

A Cincinnati Enquirer reporter admitted stealing voice-mail messages in an attempt to nail the bad boys behind Chiquita bananas.

The Boston Globe was forced to fire columnist Patricia Smith for making up quotes out of whole cloth, just to make her stories sound smoother.

Not to be outdone, the New Republic had to fire star writer Stephen Glass for making up, in whole or in part, no less than 27 stories.

And CNN and Time stole the show with their now-famous report alleging that U.S. troops secretly used nerve gas in Laos. Something worth noting: Leaving aside the intense backlash that followed, CNN’s ombudsman never actually determined whether the story was true or false; what he did determine was simply that the reporters hadn’t either.

“Journalistic credibility” has lately become an even bigger contradiction than Martha Stewart’s Living.

Here’s how bad things are: Matt Drudge, the Internet gossip columnist who got famous because (a) he became the target of a huge libel suit from Sidney Blumenthal, and (b) he helped break a story about the president’s sex life that, so far, no one in the world–even a guy equipped with subpoena power and CS gas–has been able to verify, now has his own highly promoted show on Rupert Murdoch’s 24-hour Fox News Network.

Demonstrating all the imagination for which Fox is known, the show is called “The Drudge Report.” Although in keeping with the rest of Fox programming, a better name might be “When Journalists Attack.”

Woops, there I go again about Ken Starr and nerve gas. Sorry.

Y’know what? I usually spend a lot of time and energy researching these little screeds, but maybe I shouldn’t bother. From here on in, I think I’ll just make it up as I go along.

Next week’s top story: Linda Tripp’s voice mail proves Matt Drudge is having a sordid affair with Martha Stewart and a banana.

Finally, I can start making some real money.

HOW DO YOU KNOW what’s in your lunch? You read the ingredients. Unless you’re eating a can of generic Potted Meat Food Product, in which case you just sort of mentally picture a petting zoo being lowered into a blender.

How do you know what goes into a TV program? Again, you read the ingredients. You check out the viewpoints of the sponsors and the people on screen and the owners of the networks. Unless you’re watching Fox News, in which case you just sort of mentally picture Edward R. Murrow being lowered into a blender.

So how do you know what goes into a scientific study? Same thing. You go over the data and make sure they support the conclusions, and if not, it helps to know who paid for the research.

Guess what? Studies financed by cigarette companies often reveal that smoking has unexpected benefits. Scientists who work for heavy polluters sometimes conclude that kids really aren’t getting enough heavy metals in their diet. And when you read that a synthetic food additive is actually good for you, even though a guy down the hall ate it once and now he has a limp, a facial tic, and a giant third eye, you can figure that the research might just have been financed by the folks who make that additive.

That doesn’t mean that the research is fraudulent. But knowing who paid for the whole shebang often gives you a hint about who got the benefit of any ambiguity in the data.

That’s why leading experts in medicine, urban affairs, and environmental policy are advocating that scientific journals begin publishing funding information as a standard part of articles, along with financial disclosures in which writers state for the record any potential personal gain they stand to get from their findings.

Reasonable? Believe it or not, most journals don’t do anything like that right now.

But it’s such a good idea, I’ll start right here.

The only people who pay for these commentaries are the folks on the masthead of the paper in your hands. If you’re reading this online, I’m not making a dime.

And the only profit I stand to gain from the whole thing is cutting a syndication deal, landing a TV show, eventually directing my own movies, and getting really, really rich.

After which I intend to suffer through an early peak, alienate my loved ones, and slip into a long downward spiral of smoking, bingeing on junk food, and eating lead.

There. Now you know my ingredients.

Just mentally picture realistic expectations and linear thought being lowered into a blender.

From the July 23-29, 1998 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Bulimia

The Urge to Purge


Aldo Mazza

Nurtured by self-hate, bulimics face a life of shame–and sometimes even death

By Shelley Lawrence

PULLING INTO the parking lot of the small restaurant where I am to have breakfast with an interviewee, I grow apprehensive. Is a restaurant really the best place to meet? For more than a year, a food addiction has controlled Jonelle Hayes, an attractive 18-year- old with a pretty smile and clear skin.

She’s not waif-skinny and not overweight, unless you’re judging her by fashion-magazine standards, which she is quick to tell me that she judges herself by.

Now, I wonder, will it be hard for her to eat and speak with me as well? If she runs to the bathroom, am I supposed to act unconcerned?

Hayes (who has asked that her real name not be used) soon puts my qualms to rest. “I don’t consider myself to be a bulimic anymore because I don’t throw up– bulimia doesn’t control my life like it used to,” she says as our eggs Florentine and coffee arrive. “But I still think about food constantly–how I can lose weight, what I’m going to do differently in order to accomplish that, how much I’ve already eaten today, how much I’ll allow myself to eat for the rest of the day.

“I don’t even know what’s normal anymore.”

Eighteen months ago, Hayes was controlled by the obsession that was an everyday part of her life. For her, the disorder began with a strict vegan diet to control the developing figure with which she was so disgusted. Hayes was obsessed with what she put into her mouth–and what she didn’t. She would refuse food cooked by anybody else, paranoid that fats or oils would have been used in the preparation. She found herself refusing dinner invitations, becoming defensive and angry when she was offered food that wasn’t on her diet.

Hayes did lose weight on the diet, but couldn’t keep up the strict regimen of food “dos and don’ts.”

“The first time I ate anything off my diet was when I had a bunch of girlfriends over for a Christmas-cookie baking session,” she recalls. “I was snacking on the cookies all night and they asked me how I could be constantly eating and still stay so thin. It made me arrogant, I guess you could say, and then I stopped worrying about what I was eating because I had pretty much reached my weight goal.

“Of course, when I stopped dieting I gained weight back and it completely freaked me out. I felt like I’d lost control.”

So Hayes started purging, forcing herself to throw up after eating anything she felt would make her fat. Unfortunately, this was almost everything. Soon her disorder started spinning out of control.

Hayes continues, “Bulimia is an eating disorder that makes you feel horrible about yourself because you have this dirty secret. Bulimics are excellent liars; usually nobody realizes how they stuff themselves repeatedly and then throw it up again.”

Diary of a teen bulimic.

HAYES, a Santa Rosa resident, is one of an estimated 8 million Americans–95 percent of whom are women–between the ages of 16 and 25 who suffer from bulimia nervosa, a psychosomatic illness (first diagnosed as such in 1980) in which the victim has a continuing obsession with food, weight, and figure, and an intense fear of “becoming too fat.”

Among public figures who battled bulimia were the late Princess Di, fitness guru Jane Fonda, and actress Ally Sheedy. But many women continue to suffer, spurred, in part, by social pressure to fit a slim Kate Moss ideal.

While in recent years there has been little new literature that focuses on the disorder, Dr. Dierdra Price, a San Diego-based psychiatrist, recently published a self-help workbook for sufferers of bulimia, Healing the Hungry Self: The Diet-Free Solution to Lifelong Weight Management.

“It’s very complex,” says Price, when asked what triggers the binge-purge complex. “What initially happens is that somebody will start dieting in an attempt to lose weight; to reach a standard or ideal. Because most people cannot maintain that stance, they binge on the foods they have been restricting themselves from. Because they are so frightened of gaining back the weight they have lost, they will learn to purge in order to control this.”

Typically, bulimics are white, college-educated, single, 20-something women whose weight is close to ideal. They have low-esteem; overdepend on the approval of others; find it hard to express anger; are often depressed, even suicidal; and perhaps have other compulsive behaviors (e.g., drug abuse, stealing). They spend much of their time buying enormous quantities of food and seeking private places to eat (they live in fear of their secret being discovered) and then purging.

Changing the bulimic’s attitude toward food, eating, and body size may involve psychotherapy, family therapy, medication, nutrition intervention, and/or medication.

Because of erratic eating habits and vomiting, the bulimic can suffer from an electrolyte imbalance that leads to dangerously low potassium levels. This vicious cycle perpetuates itself in recurring “hunger attacks” during which the bulimic consumes large amounts of food in a short amount of time (under two hours), although not physically hungry.

During a binge, the bulimic eats more rapidly than normal, eats alone owing to embarrassment by how much she is eating, feels a loss of self-control, and afterwards has intense feelings of self-disgust, depression, and guilt.

These feelings cause the bulimic to purge by self-induced vomiting or with laxatives, exercise strenuously, or fast to rid herself of the calories taken in during a binge.

The World Health Organization classifies bulimia nervosa as a disease in which the bulimic suffers from a binge-purge episode at least twice a week over a period of three months or more. Some bulimics can have 10 or more attacks a day. The number of attacks and their frequency can vary, and are usually provoked by stress, anxiety, or unhappiness. Many bulimics are also clinically depressed; the eating disorder can cause the depression or vice versa.

The binge-purge cycle is the bulimic’s effort (either conscious or subconscious) to avoid and/or release feelings of anger, frustration, or helplessness.

The cycle is also a form of self-punishment or sabotage; if the bulimic believes that she has been “bad,” she will binge and then purge to regain a feeling of control over herself.

As do most sufferers of bulimia, Hayes started bingeing and purging when she faced a drastic life change–in her case, becoming an au pair overseas, far away from everything familiar. Other changes that can spark an eating disorder include the death of someone close, leaving home for the first time, marriage, or divorce.

But bulimia is not a spontaneously occurring eating disorder. Most bulimics have suffered from child abuse, either physical, emotional, or sexual.

“Yes, I was abused as a child,” Hayes states flatly. “It’s something that I’ve dealt with, that I’ve come to terms with. I went through extensive therapy when I was a child, and I thought that it was over. When I was researching bulimia in order to overcome it, I found that the most probable cause for my disorder was that I was abused.

“It makes me furious all over again.”

BULIMICS ARE usually perceived by others as perfectionists, and at first they control the disorder in an effort to appear perfect to themselves. However, the disorder rapidly becomes an addiction and bulimia gains the upper hand.

“It’s actually a physiological push to eat a lot of food, to compensate for what the body has been deprived of,” adds Dr. Mary Neal, a San Diego psychiatrist. “Another reason the bulimic may binge is because of emotional instability. Bulimics can’t regulate their own negative emotions such as anger, tiredness, or guilt. Food is immediately accessible and comforting. The act of eating distracts from emotions, and the tryptophan [an amino acid] . . . actually has a sedating effect.”

“Since I’ve been back from New Zealand, I’ve been keeping it under control,” Hayes explains. “I’ve only thrown up when I’m under a lot of stress, maybe if I’m nervous about something. I can honestly say that this is the first time in two years that I feel like I have normal eating habits, even though I don’t feel that the way I think about food is normal.”

Hayes has been home for almost a year now. In that time, she says, she has made herself throw up only three or four times. “I’m still not happy with my body,” she says, “but I try to improve it by working out a lot and eating healthy, not by throwing up. But sometimes I’ll go through a phase where I’ll only eat junk food for about three weeks. I’ll get really depressed and start hating myself again. It’s nuts how what I eat determines how I feel about myself.

“For me, it was hard because I was such a late bloomer; my body really only started developing hips and stuff in the last two years. Because I thought I was already shaped the way I was going to be shaped, the changes completely shocked me.”

Hayes prods one of her thighs with a forefinger, then looks wistfully out the window. “This was at the same time that I went to New Zealand and I really felt like I was out of control. I couldn’t keep a rein on my body, and I was in a different culture,” she explains. “My host parents would get really upset if I refused food, and I didn’t want to eat anything that they served me; it was all butter and cheese, and I was vegan.

“So I decided that I would just eat anything that I wanted and then throw it up so I wouldn’t get fat. I used to have to make myself do it, and I’d scold myself for acting like such a cheap soap-opera character.

“But after a while I got into the habit of stuffing myself with so much food–I couldn’t control how much I was eating–that even the throwing up part of it became an addiction. I needed to feel the reassurance of everything coming up again. I’d feel so much better afterwards.”

She looks uneasily at the hollandaise sauce on her eggs, pushes a bite around the plate, and then swallows it. She smiles. “This is good, though,” she offers. “I just won’t eat anything else today.

“I do try to stay healthy,” she adds. “I’m afraid to go to the dentist, though. I know that my body is pretty healthy because I generally eat right and I do sports, but my teeth hurt a lot. I hope they didn’t rot from stomach acid. I can’t even afford to have them cleaned right now, much less have root canals or something.”

BULIMIA DOES take its toll on the body. Induced vomiting can cause enlarged parotid glands (in the neck), inflammation in the esophagus, dental cavities and erosion, and injuries to the inside of the mouth. The bulimic’s low potassium level can cause urinary tract infections, kidney failure, and heart irregularities. Laxative abuse can damage the colon and slow the intestinal tract. Abuse of diet pills can cause dehydration and low potassium.

A bulimic may suffer from indigestion, facial puffiness, sore throat, constipation, muscle weakness, irregular menstrual periods, and fatigue.

To those that are suffering from bulimia, and to the families of bulimics, Dr. Price offers some tips. “First of all, the bulimic needs to stop dieting,” she emphasizes. “She needs to practice eating three meals a day. The human body gets hungry about every four to five hours. If the bulimic goes beyond that time frame without eating, it will be that much easier for her to binge out of hunger.”

Bulimics should also stop weighing themselves, says Price, and get rid of any clothing that is too small that they are trying to fit back into. These are obsessive behaviors, and obsession is the root of bulimia. A sufferer of bulimia should practice changing one behavior at a time. For example, if she knows that her difficult period–the time during which she is most likely to binge–is in the late afternoon, she should have some kind of high-carbohydrate food like a baked potato that will take away the urge to binge while leaving her craving for food satisfied.

“I had a five-gallon jar full of suckers,” observes Hayes. “When I was trying to overcome the urge to binge, I would grab a sucker so I’d have something in my mouth, and I’d try to leave the house. It’s really important to get away from food when you know you want to binge.”

Dr. Neal also urges bulimics to seek help. Most bulimics will not tell anyone about their disorder because they are ashamed and afraid that others will reject them because of it. Until the disease has completely taken over their life, she says, they will not seek help.

“Often a friend will notice that someone is bulimic, and it’s very important for the friend to confront the bulimic,” notes Neal. “The bulimic will become very defensive, but the friend [or family member] should persist with the expression of their concern.”

She also advises that in the case of a younger bulimic, a family member, school nurse, teacher, or school counselor should be made aware of the problem. “Sometimes it’s easier for an adult to intervene,” Neal says, “and the sooner you nip bulimia, the sooner it can be taken care of.”

FOR HAYES, recovery was not a cut-and-dried process. After making the conscious decision that being a little overweight was better than being a bulimic, Hayes stopped purging. The binges were harder to control. “After I stopped throwing up, I gained about 10 pounds because I would still binge. I’d eat like a gallon of ice cream and five cheese sandwiches, but I wouldn’t let myself throw up,” she says.

“I’d lie on my bed and groan and suffer. I wanted my body to see what it felt like to have all of that food inside of it. It took a few months of about twice-weekly binges”–Hayes had been bingeing and purging four to five times a day–“but I finally stopped bingeing.”

When asked how she feels her disorder is doing today, Hayes replies, “The worst thing is that every day, although I don’t have to worry about bingeing and purging anymore, I still analyze everything that I put into my mouth, and most of it I feel guilty for eating. And if I feel too badly about it, or try to deprive myself of a food because I’m afraid that it will make me fat, that I won’t be able to stop eating, and then I’ll fast the next day.

“I hate it,” she says angrily. Then she adds, “I’ve talked to some of my girlfriends about it and a lot of them have the same problem. It’s just ingrained into women of this culture that no matter what height you are, you’re supposed to weigh 125 pounds. I used to model, and I think that’s part of what messed with my head. I did it when I was 16, and I still feel like I should look that way now because that’s our cultural standard of perfection. And even though I know it’s wrong and that women in magazines are too skinny et cetera ad nauseam, I still push myself to look that way.

“It’s really fucked up.”

From the July 23-29, 1998 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Spins

0

Hillbilly Heaven



New releases by and about country singer Dwight Yoakam

Dwight Yoakam
A Long Way Home (Reprise)

MUSIC CRITICS and feature writers across the land are tugging their forelocks over country crooner Dwight Yoakam, trying to reconcile his burgeoning Hollywood career with his status as one of country music’s most enduring and innovative talents.

Breathless and agitated, they pose the same question over and over again: What does it all mean?

With his recently released A Long Way Home, singer and songwriter Yoakam–who rode into the spotlight during the mid-’80s on the leading edge of the genre’s neo-traditionalist movement and helped spark the decade’s country revival–counters with a succinct answer: Nothing.

Those seeking proof need only consult “Traveler’s Lantern,” a bluegrass tune so pure that, by the second verse, it conjures images of mountain folk drinking moonshine while their barefoot children dance with chickens around a campfire.

So much for Yoakam going Hollywood.

If anything, A Long Way Home is a metaphorical journey about embracing roots, not abandoning them. On his last collection of originals, 1995’s Gone (followed by a live album and a set of covers), Yoakam shunned his honky-tonk pedigree, exploring a more mongrel sound and incorporating a broad tapestry of influences.

Interesting, yes, but hardly memorable. And a subsequent release of cover tunes that ventured into swing was downright forgettable. But now Yoakam is back, and once again he’s packing a punch.

While the masterful songwriting of A Long Way Home evokes such Yoakam classics as This Time and If There Was a Way, it also explores fresh sonic territory, cultivating a working balance between tradition and experimentation.

Ultimately, however, Yoakam is at his finest when twanging his way through such hardcore honky- tonkers as “These Arms” and “That’s Okay” or balladeering on the haunting “I’ll Just Take These.”

While the arrangements on A Long Way Home are spare, the sound is fat and crystalline. And Yoakam’s voice has perhaps never sounded better.

In a musical genre increasingly populated by sellouts and poppinjays, it’s reassuring to know that there’s an “actor” out there capable of injecting passion and ingenuity into popular country music.
CHRIS WEIR

Various Artists
Will Sing for Food: The Songs of Dwight Yoakam (Little Dog/Mercury)

IT’S FITTING that this collection of 14 Dwight Yoakam songs, performed by other artists, serves as a benefit for the homeless, given the populist sentiment of his music. Conceived by Yoakam and his guitarist- producer Pete Anderson (who serves as executive producer), this project brings together an impressive variety of roots Americana musicians, including mandolinist Tim O’Brien, country vocalist Bonnie Bramlett, the Blazers, and mystical singer/songwriter Gillian Welch with David Rawlings.

Their interpretations shine new light on such Yoakam-penned classics as “This Time,” “Miner’s Prayer,” and “I Sang Dixie,” presenting further evidence for his status as a country music original in the tradition of Hank Williams, Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard, and Willie Nelson.
TERRY HANSEN

From the July 23-29, 1998 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Wine Country Film Festival

0

Passion Play

The Bird People of China takes flight at the Wine Country Film Festival, which begins showing films in Sonoma County on Aug. 5.

Michael Amsler


Movies find love at the Wine Country Film Festival

By David Templeton

JUST A FEW moments ago, Steve Ashton appeared relatively calm. His manner was easygoing, his voice and gestures composed, as he led the way through a rambling old farmhouse–from which the annual Wine Country Film Festival is dreamed up and launched each year–and out to a peaceful spot by the side of a sun-drenched, frog-filled pond. As Ashton discusses the film festival in general terms, characterizing various aspects of this year’s event and comparing it all to festivals of the past, his manner remains composed, professional, reserved.

Then he starts talking about the movies–the specific films that have been selected for the 12th Wine Country Film Festival: films from Algeria, South Africa, Germany, the Czech Republic, Mexico, Canada, and Iran; films about love, passion, music, freedom, revolution, friendship, obsession, spicy shrimp, and the imminent demise of the world. As Ashton describes each new film, his voice rises in excitement, he grins, laughs, shouts, barely containing his enthusiasm for the remarkable visions crafted by each of these filmmakers from around the world.

As the founder and director of the homegrown extravaganza that takes place in Napa and Sonoma counties over a four-week period every summer, Ashton is doing something he loves, and it shows, in the way he talks about it and in the festival itself.

Sure, the Wine Country Film Festival may not be as trendy or well known as some its Northern California cousins–the increasingly glittery San Francisco and Mill Valley Film Festivals, for example. Still, over the course of its existence, the event has earned a unique reputation. Without question, the WCFF is one of the country’s more offbeat and eccentric celebrations of cinematic art. But most important–certainly this is the one element that has brought the festival heightened international awareness in recent years– the WCFF places a special emphasis on films with a social conscience, works that Ashton identifies as “films from commitment.”

No other mainstream festival of comparable size and scope has devoted as much energy and inventiveness to promoting and identifying those films and filmmakers that attempt–often daringly so–to make a difference, to alter people’s perceptions of one another, to bridge cultural gaps.

“To change the world,” Ashton affirms. “That’s certainly one of our hopes in presenting these films. Our program will contain the words ‘Film can give rise to our dreams and bring forth creative new possibilities in each of us. Through film, sometimes a person can be awakened.'”

“Any film, international or otherwise, that effectively bridges some kind of gap–that’s an important film,” he adds.

It was Ashton’s commitment to such films that brought him to the attention of the United Nations. This August, the United Nations will be celebrating the 50th anniversary of the Declaration of Human Rights, with a massive symposium to take place at the United Nations in Geneva, Switzerland. In concert with this event, a special film festival is being organized, and Ashton has been asked to select the movies that will be seen by delegates from all corners of the planet.

Many of the chosen films will be screened at this year’s WCFF. Among them is Polyas (meaning “jester”), which was filmed in South Africa. It was the first movie in the Afrikaans language to be submitted for an Academy Award. The story of a mute boy escaping a troubled home life who befriends a mysterious clown after joining a traveling circus, the film was produced by Anant Singh (Cry the Beloved Country, Sarafina), who will be on hand to receive the festival’s Distinguished Producer Award.

“The relationship between this white boy and this African jester in makeup,” Ashton enthuses, “is the central metaphor, the metaphor of accepting differences in other people. That is at the base of every conflict you can think of, be it racism, apartheid, nationalism, whatever. It’s all about learning to accept one another’s differences.”

Polyas will be screened outdoors at the Valley of the Moon theater in Jack London State Park. The showing of movies beneath the stars is one of the unconventional elements of this festival; numerous outdoor screenings will be held in Napa as well, at the Napa Valley Museum.

Other notable films the festival will be offering:

Dance with Me–the opening night film–is directed by Rhanda Haines (Children of a Lesser God, The Doctor) and stars Vanessa L. Williams, Chayanne, and Kris Kristofferson. Exploring the relationship between a bitter, unlucky-in-love ballroom dance champion (Williams) whose passion for dance is rekindled after meeting a young Cuban dancer (Chayanne), the film will be preceded by a Latin ballroom dance competition, open to the public.

The Tic Code, starring Gregory Hines and Polly Draper, is a jazz-laced story of a 12-year-old musical genius, his mentor (Hines), and the boy’s mother (Draper). The title has to do with an unspoken communication between those with the nervous disorder Tourette’s syndrome. Draper (who wrote the screenplay) and her jazz composer husband, Michael Wolff (who lives with Tourette’s himself), will make an appearance.

“It’s a film about transformation,” explains Ashton. “A very rich picture.”

FELIX ADLON (son of Bagdad Cafe director Percy Adlon) will attend to screen Eat Your Heart Out, his new film about fame, friendship, and good cooking, preceded by a spicy shrimp cook-off between father and son. The remarkable Chiapas, a film about an Irish couple on a journey through Mexico, is one of the films Ashton has selected to take to Geneva, as is Honey and Ashes, a beautiful Algerian film about a trio of modern women dealing with the ingrained misogyny of North African culture. The Secret Life of Algernon stars Northern Exposure’s John Cullum (who will also be in attendance) as a hapless hermit upset by the intervention of a sexy and ruthless treasure hunter who is sure that a valuable artifact is buried somewhere on the old man’s property.

“As you can see, we’ve got a lot going on,” Ashton concludes, beginning to return to his formerly low-key demeanor. Suddenly, however, he’s reminded of another film. “It’s Zakir and His Friends, following Zakir Hussein, the great tabla player, literally around the world as he plays with every conceivable type of percussionist! That’ll be al fresco, and Zakir will perform before the film.”

Ashton, fired up by the mere thought of so much rare and eclectic cinema, is fully amped again.

“Wait till you see Divorce: A Contemporary Western,” he grins. “You won’t believe how good this movie is.”

The Wine Country Film Festival runs July 23 through Aug. 16. Films will be shown in Napa County until Aug. 2, and the festival comes to Sonoma County Aug. 5. For details, call the 935-3456.

From the July 16-22, 1998 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Talking Pictures

0

Twisting Fate


Michael Amsler

Chin up: George Clooney comes face to face with love in ‘Out of Sight.’

Novelist/screenwriter Amy Ephron on Jennifer Lopez’s ‘Out of Sight’

By David Templeton

David Templeton takes interesting people to interesting movies in his ongoing quest for the ultimate post-film conversation. This time out, he meets author/screenwriter Amy Ephron to check out the outlandish crime-thriller Out of Sight.

LET’S DO THIS again some time,” suggests Amy Ephron, shaking hands as we part ways on a San Francisco street corner–across from the theater where we’ve just seen the new George Clooney film Out of Sight.

“But next time,” she emphasizes, “we’ll pick a better movie.”

Born and raised in Hollywood, Ephron is from a whole family of successful authors and screenwriters that includes her late parents, Henry and Phoebe (There’s No Business Like Show Business, Daddy Long Legs) and her sister, writer-director Nora Ephron (When Harry Met Sally, Sleepless in Seattle). Amy–for years a respected Hollywood production executive–has taken up the family business in recent years, writing numerous screenplays and even landing a much- discussed novel on the New York Times bestseller list.

Now at the tail end of a multicity book tour, Amy is currently visiting Northern California to promote the paperback release of that book, the celebrated A Cup of Tea. Like Frances Hodgson Burnett’s classic A Little Princess–which Ephron adapted for the screen in 1995’s award-winning film version–A Cup of Tea takes place in New York during World War I and explores similar themes of class distinction and prejudice.

The tale of a privileged woman whose destiny takes a nasty turn after she impulsively invites a penniless woman home for a cup of tea, the book has been optioned for the big screen by none other than legendary producer Jerry Bruckheimer and his wife, Linda. Bruckheimer–the force behind such explosive entertainment as Armageddon, The Rock, and Top Gun— seems an off-the-wall match for this quiet little story that takes place mainly in drawing rooms and hat shops. Thankfully, Linda–who read the book and loved it–will be handling the hands-on producing chores.

“We’ll see what they do with it,” Ephron grins. “It’s going to be fascinating.”

Bruckheimer, in fact, is one reason we chose to see Out of Sight–an outlandish yarn about a charming bank robber (Clooney) and a feisty U.S. marshal (Jennifer Lopez) who fall in love while trapped together in the trunk of a getaway car. The movie– directed by Steven Soderbergh–was produced by Bruckheimer.

I GUESS MEN really like Jennifer Lopez, huh?” Ephron quizzes me. “Men think she’s pretty hot?” We’re sipping Turkish coffee at a small cafe down the street, having left so quickly after the movie was over that, even as we settle into our seats here, the credits may still be rolling back at the theater.

“I’d have to agree with those men,” I reply.

“I don’t think her character made any sense,” Ephron says. “But then nothing in this film made sense. Some of the direction is so good, though–with those neat little instant-freeze frames right in the middle of action, and the way the plot started in the middle, skipped back to the beginning, and then worked its way back to the middle and on into the whole shoot-out thing at the end …”

“With Lopez waiting outside with her loaded gun and her lip gloss,” I interject.

“Right! Well, that’s another thing that doesn’t make sense,” Ephron laughs. “But some of it was so clever that every once in a while I was fooled into thinking I was watching a good movie. It just goes to show what a good director can do with a not-so-great script.

“So what did you think?” she wants to know. “Aside from Jennifer Lopez.”

“I enjoyed the impulsiveness of the love story,” I admit. “That this U.S. marshal, who by a weird, accidental twist of fate ends up in a trunk with an escaped convict, would be so compelled to pursue him– professionally and romantically–was kind of fun. Not unlike the impulsiveness of the woman in A Cup of Tea,” I point out, “who gives in to the impulse to invite this stranger home to tea, and later regrets it.”

“Well,” Ephron mulls this over, cradling her coffee cup. “In my book she was compelled to do what she did, as opposed to merely being impulsive. There’s a difference. When you are compelled, it is as if you have no choice, but when Jennifer Lopez decides to sleep with George Clooney, she’s being impulsive–almost psychotic, actually. What am I saying, ‘almost’? It was completely psychotic.”

“I think that if there’s any lesson here,” she continues, “it’s like … don’t write the end of the story before it happens. Sometimes in life we will stop ourselves from doing something–or choose to do something– because we think we can see the ending of the story before it happens; we think we know how it’s all going to turn out. And that’s probably not smart, because the truth is, you can’t see the end of the story before it happens, not in our own lives.”

“So, the bank robber and the marshal think they can see the end of their story?” I wonder.

“Sure,” Ephron nods. “They probably think they’ll end up in Mexico together, or something. But we, the audience, can see the end of the story coming, too–and we know it’s never going to turn out like that.”

“But with another little accident of fate couldn’t Mexico be possible?” I argue.

“In fiction anything is possible,” Ephron says. “In real life … well, in real life a lot is possible, too. It’s that ingrained belief in fairy tales. I think we all believe that just around the corner–maybe this corner, maybe that corner–something might be waiting to happen, something that might change our life. That the next five minutes could end up defining our entire existence.

“And you know what?” Amy Ephron smiles. “Sometimes that’s exactly what happens.”

From the July 16-22, 1998 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Stone Creek Wines

0

Wine Trek

Courtesy of Paramount


Local winemaker warps into the future

By David Templeton

STARDATE: 1998.7.16. While firmly rooted in the rugged history of Northern California–and with literal roots in the region’s fertile land–a small, family-owned Sonoma County winery has recently gained a thrilling glimpse into its own possible far-flung future. Stone Creek Wines of Kenwood has, one might say, boldly gone where no winery has gone before–warp speed into the 24th century.

This isn’t science fiction we’re talking about here.

When the creative whiz kids at Paramount Studios first conceived of a major Las Vegas attraction based on their famous Star Trek television show, their ambitious concept was to create an environment in which fans of the popular sci-fi series could make believe that they had actually entered the vivid world of Star Trek.

Visitors would be “beamed up” to the transporter room of a Federation starship, walk the deck of a life-size Enterprise, suffer an attack by Klingon birds of prey, escape aboard a bouncy shuttlecraft, and then be sucked into a whirling time warp. Guests would be able to stroll along the promenade of the vast intergalactic space station Deep Space Nine.

There they would interact with Klingons, Ferrengi, Vulcans, and Federation crew members. Visitors could even have lunch–at Quark’s Bar and Restaurant, lifted whole from the Deep Space Nine TV show–and enjoy imaginative and tasty cuisine, while sipping such bizarre interplanetary libations as Romulan Ales, Cardassian Coolers, Vulcan Nerve Pinch Martinis, and, of course, Deep Space Wines.

How about a nice Klingon Blood Wine? Maybe a rich ceremonial cabernet worthy of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx? There would have to be a good aged El Aurian wine (El Aurians live a long time!) and perhaps a refreshing white zinfandel for the Trill in all of us. After all, no self-respecting Ferrengi barkeep would dream of opening his doors without a good wine cellar under the floor.

This is where Stone Creek beams into the picture. While Paramount’s engineers and designers set about bringing all the rest of the concept to glorious, three-dimensional life, Simon Liu–director of food services for the recently opened Star Trek Experience at the Las Vegas Hilton–searched the universe for a suitable maker of wines.

“First of all, I knew it wouldn’t be easy to find any winery willing to do a special labeling, especially with a wine from Sonoma County,” explains Liu. “And I was looking for a quality wine. I wasn’t about to go with just anybody. Quark’s Bar and Restaurant is a quality establishment,” he adds. “I wanted a wine that would do us justice.”

Luckily, Stone Creek general manager Barry Jacobs is a Star Trek fan himself. “I loved the idea,” Jacobs laughs. “I mean, Deep Space Wine! Why not?”

Adds Stone Creek marketing director Cynthia Slayton, “At first we had no idea what the labels would look like, or what the names of the wines would be, and we were concerned about getting the labels approved by the [Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms], which is notoriously picky about what goes on a wine bottle.”

Their concerns were valid. How do you explain a product called Klingon Blood Wine, or the Sacred Chalice of Rixx? “The government,” Slayton laughs, “didn’t have a clue what to make of any of this.”

EVENTUALLY Paramount provided a step-by-step explanation of the labels for each of the four suggested wines–complete with a guide to various Star Trek aliens. One can only imagine the look on the faces of the board members as they examined the label for Trill.

It read: “In reference to a species of alien called Trill, a species made up of a humanoid host and a symbiont that lives inside the host: The Trill are extremely long-lived, and consequently the label makes a good play on the idea of an aged wine.”

It’s a good thing the BATF didn’t see the classy, full-colored Quark’s wine list, describing Trill wines with the words, “These grapes have been tended by the same Trill for over 350 years, through seven different hosts.”

Likewise, the Klingon Blood Wine label proclaimed, “An honorable vintage to quench the thirst that burns in the heart of a true warrior.”

The labels were approved.

“I always said there had to be at least one Star Trek fan on the board,” quips Jacobs.

Quark produced an initial order of 2,000 bottles. “It’s selling even better than we expected,” says Liu, who probably could have guessed that travelers would want a drink after traveling through space and time (and yes, visitors really are “beamed up” to the Enterprise, in a satisfying blend of show-biz trickery and special effects).

So, will Stone Creek still be around in another 400 years, providing exceptional wines for all the sentient beings of the universe? Will Northern California still be growing grapes, for that matter, or will the humans have sucked the last of the minerals from the soil by then?

“My prediction,” offers Slayton, “is that Napa will have sold off all its vineyards to real estate developers, and the county will become a giant picnic park with tasting rooms here and there, selling wines made from grapes grown in the Central Valley, or out in space.”

“Sonoma, of course, will have managed its soil better,” continues Jacobs. “We’ll have cut our vineyards in half and alternated growing back and forth every seven years, so the soil stays fertile.

“We’ll be right here,” he adds with a confident chuckle, “in the 24th century, still making the best wines in the universe.”

From the July 16-22, 1998 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Lafferty Ranch

No AccessMichael AmslerEye on the prize: Lafferty Access Committee members Laurel Hagan, James Mobley, and Robert Ramirez at the disputed entrance to Lafferty Ranch, a city-owned parcel that remains a civic battleground. Road to Lafferty Ranch fraught with troubleBy Paula Harris IT WAS A MILD SUMMER evening around 8:30 as Petaluma City Councilman David Keller and his wife, Allison,...

Pagan Kennedy

Punk Passion'The Exes' cheats readers with a quicky tale of rock-star loveBy Jessica FeinsteinWE'LL CALL ourselves the Exes," says Lilly, one of the four voices in Pagan Kennedy's latest novel, The Exes (Simon & Schuster; $22). "And the thing is, we will be exes--everyone in the band will have gone out with someone else in the band."Hank, Lilly's...

Talking Pictures

CatfightNancy Bennett EvelynNature lover: Author Barry Lopez turns an critical eye on 'Passion in the Desert.'Author Barry Lopez gets passionately angry about 'Passion in the Desert'By David TempletonDavid Templeton takes interesting people to interesting movies in his ongoing quest for the ultimate post-film conversation. This time out, he teams up with esteemed nature writer Barry Lopez to see the...

Chez Marie

Country Comfort Love that country pie: Angie Lewis and Shirley Palmisano have created a festive west county restaurant with all the flair of a Mardi Gras celebration. Chez Marie owners find the good life in Forestville By Marina Wolf THE AFTERNOON air on Forestville's main drag is hazy with the last overcast day of early...

Scoop

Gossips R UsMatt Drudge's sordid tryst with a bananaBy Bob HarrisTHIS JUST IN: Kenneth Starr is secretly attacking witnesses with nerve gas. OK, that's not exactly true. I actually have no information whatsoever that the special prosecutor is using nerve gas to try to compel testimony. In fact, he very probably isn't. Normally, I wouldn't go around just making...

Bulimia

The Urge to PurgeAldo MazzaNurtured by self-hate, bulimics face a life of shame--and sometimes even deathBy Shelley LawrencePULLING INTO the parking lot of the small restaurant where I am to have breakfast with an interviewee, I grow apprehensive. Is a restaurant really the best place to meet? For more than a year, a food addiction has controlled Jonelle Hayes,...

Spins

Hillbilly HeavenNew releases by and about country singer Dwight YoakamDwight Yoakam A Long Way Home (Reprise)MUSIC CRITICS and feature writers across the land are tugging their forelocks over country crooner Dwight Yoakam, trying to reconcile his burgeoning Hollywood career with his status as one of country music's most enduring and innovative talents. Breathless and agitated, they pose the same...

Wine Country Film Festival

Passion PlayThe Bird People of China takes flight at the Wine Country Film Festival, which begins showing films in Sonoma County on Aug. 5.Michael AmslerMovies find love at the Wine Country Film Festival By David TempletonJUST A FEW moments ago, Steve Ashton appeared relatively calm. His manner was easygoing, his voice and gestures composed, as he led the way...

Talking Pictures

Twisting FateMichael AmslerChin up: George Clooney comes face to face with love in 'Out of Sight.'Novelist/screenwriter Amy Ephron on Jennifer Lopez's 'Out of Sight'By David TempletonDavid Templeton takes interesting people to interesting movies in his ongoing quest for the ultimate post-film conversation. This time out, he meets author/screenwriter Amy Ephron to check out the outlandish crime-thriller Out of Sight.LET'S...

Stone Creek Wines

Wine Trek Courtesy of Paramount Local winemaker warps into the future By David Templeton STARDATE: 1998.7.16. While firmly rooted in the rugged history of Northern California--and with literal roots in the region's fertile land--a small, family-owned Sonoma County winery has recently gained a thrilling glimpse into its own possible far-flung future. Stone Creek Wines...
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