California Here I Come

California, here I come. I guess I can stay here another week, but I’m just dying to hit the road. Seven days. I have to finish the job I’m doing at Connie Funk’s garden, because I promised her, and because that will give me the money I need to get out of town. But I am champing at the bit – making mental lists, like changing the oil on the car. I’m going to have Jimmy Schermerhorn give it a good going over – the car, I mean. It’s in very good shape, but you feel better after it’s been checked out.

Herb Caen, Columnist for the San Francisco Chronicle. Born 1916, began writing his column in 1938, when he was 22, kept it up almost daily, until his death in 1997. Had a way of making up his own words. Couldn’t write like him.

You can find anything on Google – which is scary. I mean it’s good you can find anything, like the Herb Caen columns. I just typed “herb caen” into Google, and there they were – a selection of Caen’s best columns over his 60-year career. But that’s scary too.

Jennifer Clarke is selling Chinese flotsam at her card table in front of the Café Culture. Janet Laurel, a new artist in town, came in for her afternoon cookie and coffee. Suzi Thompson, manager of the Bowman Gallery in Anacortes, walked in smiling. She is great pal with Gretchen Dykers, owner of Café Culture – the real window on LaConner.

But, God, I am sick of small towns. ….. Janet Laurel sitting in the old velvet chair by the door,
smoking a cigarette, which is not allowed, legs crossed, colorful socks and tennis shoes. She keeps talking loudly and Gretchen gets annoyed at her constant discussion.

Barking Dogs. Two brown dogs. One named Buddy, the other named Lucy. Out in front of the Café, tied up on leashes, mostly lazing all day on the sidewalk – but it was that other dog that got them barking – Jennifer’s black Newfoundland.