The Ghosts of Christmas

Nordhoff Cemetery, Ojai, California

When my father died, I simply couldn’t take it in.  Even though I was old enough (I thought) to accept what had happened, the situation retained a strange, unreal aspect.  My father couldn’t be dead: such an event was simply impossible.  So, I began to develop this fantasy that he was still alive.

This isn’t a process that I encouraged, nor did I ever truly believe in it.  Yet, there remained the lingering conviction that, if I remained alert, I might spot him somewhere.  Perhaps he was living another life now, using a different name.  Perhaps he wouldn’t recognize my mother and I if he saw us.  Nonetheless, he must be around, somewhere, and eventually I might find him, and get the reunion I craved.

Even in college, long after I had rationalized away this strange notion, I still dreamed that at some point, my father might whisk himself down from Heaven for one final visit.  Perhaps he would wake me up in the middle of the night (No easy task, as I’m a sound sleeper), and we could enjoy one last visit together, as I shared with him my past, my current circumstances, and my hopes for the future.

In the Bionic Woman episode, “Jaime’s Mother,” Jaime gets just such a reunion.  She awakens from a vivid dream of her mother, and over the course of the episode, she ends up at Nordhoff Cemetery, where she meets a woman who looks very much like her mother.  Earlier in the episode, she learned that during the 1950s, “when the Cold War was really hot,” her parents, both university professors, lived double lives as spies for the United States.  Now, she’s face to face with a woman who seems to know everything about her, and yearns to catch up with her.  But Jaime wonders: could this woman really be my mother?  Or is the situation too incredible to be true?

Anyone who has lost a parent, spouse, close family member or friend can understand what I went through in my youth, and Jaime’s dilemma in the episode.  We never get over the pain of losing someone dear to us; we simply learn to accept their absence.  Holidays can provoke relapses in this regard.  While our normal routines can divert our focus, when the holidays arrive each year--those special days of getting together with those who mean the most to you--the fact that those lost loved ones are no longer alive hits you all the harder.

This December, I haven’t been thinking of my father, or another close family member who died a few years back.  Instead, I’ve been thinking of a woman in my extended family.  She died earlier this year, and while she wasn’t someone I was close to--we lived too far apart for such a relationship to develop--we saw her every year, usually at Christmas.  We looked forward to seeing her, to talking with her, and to spending what time we could with her.  Now she’s gone.

The irony of all this is that life continually brings new people into our lives.  And those family and friends who grieve with you will usually try harder to help absolve your pain and focus on all that you have.  They’re right there, waiting to talk with you, to celebrate the holidays with you, to just hold you close and tight, if that’s what you need.  Still, it’s difficult to banish that sense of loss.  It’s difficult to really be present with them, when you feel so incomplete.  I wonder why our minds work like this, clinging to the ghosts of the past, instead of concentrating on the real people right before our lives.  It’s so illogical, it’s so pointless, it’s so incredibly, unarguably human.

Dragon Dave 

Related Dragon Cache entries

Awake with Connie Willis and Amaryllis

Related Internet Links

Bionic Wikia: Jaime’s Mother episode

Those Utopian Dreams: Part 1

The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling together; and a little child will lead them.

Isaiah 11:6, New International Version

In The Bionic Woman TV show, Jaime Sommers teaches an elementary school class at an Air Force Base near her home in Ojai.  In the episode “Claws,” a student named Katie brings a male lion into the classroom for Show and Tell.  The lion walks into the circle formed by the students’ desks and lies on the floor.  Katie explains she is helping Susan Victor, who runs a wild animal sanctuary.  Jaime then allows the entire class to rise from their seats, and quietly approach the lion.  The children kneel down beside him, and gently stroke his soft fur and mane.  The lion closes his eyes, reveling in the attention.

Some of the charm of the bionic shows involves looking back on us, as a people, at an earlier stage in our societal development.  Before the rise of the Internet, and the so-called Information Age, people found it more difficult to share experiences and opinions.  Without detailed information readily at our fingertips, we didn’t realize how difficult it was to transform our dreams into reality.  Thus, when it came to embracing Fiction, we found it easier to suspend our belief.  We believed we could replace parts of our bodies that we had damaged beyond repair, and build better, stronger, and perhaps even wiser people.  There were no limits to what we could accomplish!  Through the application of Science and Willpower, we would return our world to the utopia depicted in the Bible.  Humanity would return to the Garden of Eden.  Farmers would sow and reap their crops, untroubled by weeds, insects, or pests.  Humans and animals would coexist harmoniously.  Like Adam and Even, even the fiercest species would bow to us, allow us to name them, and follow our every command.

With facts so readily available now, few still believe that bionic enhancements such as those Jaime Sommers and Steve Austin received lie in our immediate future.  And only a miniscule percentage of us still defy the Law, and keep wild creatures as pets.  There have been too many attacks, in homes, wild life sanctuaries, and zoos, to believe that we can ever tame such savage creatures.  Thus we can only look back on an episode like “Claws,” in which gentle children kneel beside a domesticated lion, as a relic of an earlier age: when we dreamed greater dreams than we do now.  Or, as Science Fiction author David Brin might say, at least until we can figure out how to uplift them.

Still, it's fun to look back.

Dragon Dave

Related Internet Links

The Bionic Woman: “Claws”

The Largest Outdoor Bookstore in America

As I wandered the streets of Ojai, I noticed bookcases lining the outside of a house.  As I neared, I realized it wasn’t a house at all, but a façade of painted wooden siding, interspersed with windows, and overhung with corrugated fiberglass panels to mimic a roof.  But the bookcases filled with books: they were real.

I perused the shelves.  Signs offered these books for sale or trade on the honor system.  The bindings of many looked loose.  The covers seemed faded and worn.  It was as if the books themselves, exhausted by poor handling and all who had read them, had grasped one final opportunity for someone to read and love them.  “Look at me,” they cried.  “Please, take me home with you!”

Callously, I ignored their calls and walked “inside” Bart’s Books of Ojai.

I found myself surrounded by alcoves, and hallways formed by bookcases.  All were sheltered directly overhead by corrugated fiberglass panels.  Some areas required electric lights to illuminate the titles.  I wandered through a wide selection of subjects and categories, each identified by hand-drawn cardboard signs.  Several times, a staff member offered to help me find whatever I might be looking for.  A few customers sat beneath umbrella-covered tables, reading or chatting as they enjoyed the drinks and snacks Bart’s also sold.  After finding nothing I wanted in the Fiction area, I headed for the Science Fiction section.

A few years ago, when I subscribed to Writer’s Digest, I remember the magazine proclaiming that something on the order of 200,000 books were published in the English language every year.  That’s 200,000 titles, multiplied by all the copies of each title printed.  Despite the rise of electronic publishing, I suspect the number of books printed each year, whether they be hardcovers or paperbacks, has risen since then.  All those books have to go somewhere, and some will inevitably be thrown out or otherwise destroyed. 

Libraries and bookstores cannot hold copies of all the titles ever printed.  Even when owners and communities care for their books, time, the elements, and disasters still take their toll.  Little survives of Pliny the Younger beyond his letters, and their existence was probably insured because he writes about the eruption of Mount Vesuvius, and because he speaks of persecuting and executing Christians.  Aristotle’s philosophical works have profoundly shaped how we view and interpret the world, yet only roughly a third of them survive.  SFWA Grandmaster Robert Silverberg has bemoaned that so few of the dramas written by ancient Greek and Roman playwrights are still available.  And me?  I was looking for copies of the four novels Martin Caidin wrote about Steve Austin.  I’ve had trouble finding them in bookstores.  Where better to look than Ojai, Steve and Jaime’s hometown? 

Nope.  Nothing by Martin Caidin, whether Steve Austin-related or otherwise.

In perusing the Science Fiction section, I found a few books that interested me.  When I pulled out the copies, they left a dusty feeling on my hands.  As I’m allergic to dust and dust mites, I reluctantly put them back.  Perhaps I’ll find them elsewhere.

Bart’s Books helps readers of all ages find books and stories that can add value and joy to their lives.  Where I to live in Ojai, I can envision many happy times sitting at those umbrella-covered tables, discovering a new book, sipping my favorite drink, and enjoying the company of my fellow readers.  But I can’t help thinking about those tired and worn books outside, or the ones “inside” that were slowly disintegrating as I held them.  I know that nothing humans create can last forever.  Yet I can’t help thinking that those books, the products of creativity and hard work by thousands of authors throughout the course of human existence, deserve a little more protection against the elements.  Just a little bit more.

What do you think?

Dragon Dave

Related Internet Links

Bart’s Books

The Radiant Arbor of Libbey Bowl

Something else that caught my eye that day in Ojai was this arbor.  I’ve often thought of making one, and if I ever do, I’ll probably make mine out of wood, as that’s the material I’m most experienced with.  An arbor helps separate two areas, but it also invites people to enter.  I’ve seen lots of different types of arbors over the years, but I can’t think of any I’ve liked as much as this. 

The arbor that stands before Libbey Bowl reminds me of the sun.  Its light and warmth shine down upon our planet, allow us to live here.  I often miss the sun during the winter.  It’s not just that that the days are shorter.  It’s also that the sun seems less strong and vital then.  When it’s not hiding behind clouds, it still seems unable to properly warm our planet.  (Or at least my little patch of it).  Perhaps the arbor also symbolizes the music played in the bowl, and the sounds that travel outward for others to hear.  I wish I knew who built it, and what inspired them to fashion it in this unique shape.  Its design complements the shape of the outdoor concert venue, while proudly welcoming visitors into Libbey Bowl.  Anyway, it’s just something else that I saw that day in Ojai, and I liked it so much that, like author Kevin J. Anderson, I thought I’d use my blog as an excuse to share these photographs with you.

In the immortal words of Han Solo, please don’t everyone thank me at once.

Dragon Dave

The Wooden Sea Serpent of Libbey Bowl

When I spoke with Kevin J. Anderson at Stan Lee’s Comikaze, I told him I’d been enjoying his blog.  He told me that he mostly used it as an excuse to share his travel photographs.  Of course it’s much more than that: the written descriptions of his journeys offer just as much value as the photographs, and his pieces on up-and-coming projects pique my interest in the stories he’s written.  But I understand his attitude.  He’s a professional author, and spends most of his time hard at work writing stories he can sell.  While he uses his blog to appropriately trumpet his stories, sometimes it’s nice to share some of your more memorable journeys with others.

On that visit to Ojai, as I climbed the bleachers to watch those playing tennis in Libbey Park, I couldn’t help but notice the activity going on behind me in Libbey Bowl.  I’m not sure what production they were setting up for, but I could envision sitting in this comfortable, outdoor venue and enjoying a concert with my fellow residents (assuming I resided in Ojai).  It had a nice homey feeling to it, which I liked.  I don’t often attend concerts in San Diego, but if I lived in Ojai…well, maybe I would.

The forms that nature offers up often intrigue me.  I don’t know if it’s one or two trees (or more), but it looks like a single tree that some accident forced back down to the ground.  Unlike lesser trees though, this one declared, “No, I won’t be cowed, I won’t allow you to defeat me,” and it defied the elements and rose back up again.  While it reminds me of a sea serpent, the tree makes a statement about the importance of determination and not giving up, regardless of what life throws your way. 

Maybe that's why I've always liked sea serpents.  Oh, and trees, too.  Trees are pretty neat.

Dragon Dave

Related Internet Links

About Libbey Bowl

Libbey Bowl welcomes Amateur Astronomers

A cool, evening photo of Ojai

What Might Have Caught Steve & Jaime’s Eyes

Artists enhance Ojai's natural beauty.

A community is more than just a cluster of houses and buildings.  It does more than provide necessary goods and services.  A village, town, or city radiates the spirits of its inhabitants.  Ojai’s downtown shines with an unconventional artistic vision.  Murals and statues mingle with the town’s natural beauty, inspiring residents and visitors.  With so much to draw the eye, one’s footsteps naturally slow when walking the streets of this high desert community.

They celebrate Ojai's heritage.

In the Six Million Dollar Man story “The Bionic Woman,” written by Kenneth Johnson, Steve Austin and Jaime Sommers reunite after several years apart in Libbey Park.  During their hour-long walk through town, I suspect their attention remained mostly upon each other.  Yet they must have stopped occasionally, perhaps near statues and fountains such as these.  

Art pours from the creator’s heart.  It radiates ideas and emotions.  In its presence, we may find ourselves overwhelmed by joy or sadness.  Tears spring to our eyes unbidden.  Our hearts beat faster.  Thoughts race through our brains.  In such moments, we not only reinterpret the past and present, but glimpse potential futures.  The artwork in Ojai—whether it was a painting, a statue, or a fountain—increased our appreciation for everything else we saw there, and fired us with possibilities for how we might enhance our own house and yard. 

They fire us with
possibilities

I’ve never seen the Six Million Dollar Man and The Bionic Woman reunion movies, but apparently Steve Austin and Jaime Sommers married in the final one: "Bionic Ever After?" Perhaps Steve and Jaime set up house in Ojai, and still walk through (or speed through, or leap over) its downtown.  Perhaps they sometimes linger beside the same creations that stilled our own feet, reconsidering their present, and glimpsing possibilities for their future together.  It’s a pleasant thought, even if it’s only whimsy.  

Ojai is a thriving town, and provides welcome escape for many Los Angeles residents.  The whimsical nature of Ojai's inhabitants finds its way into their artwork, landscaping, and buildings.  The community's attractiveness suggests that everyone needs a little whimsy now and then, don’t you think?

Dragon Dave

Walking in Steve & Jaime’s Footsteps

The entrance to Libbey Park.

Do you know how it is when you reunite with a long-time friend and it feels as if you have never been apart?  You still feel the weight of all those years without the other in your life.  Yet you also feel the closeness you once shared.  It’s such a relief to not just talk, but to share the deepest, most personal thoughts and feelings.  Suddenly, from your mouth come admissions you would never tell those with whom you work and regularly interact.

In the Six Million Dollar Man story “The Bionic Woman,” written by Kenneth Johnson, that’s the way Steve Austin and Jaime Sommers feel when they reunite in Libbey Park.  A connection sparked between them long ago, and time has not extinguished it.  They talk about the busyness of their lives, and crow their accomplishments, yet they also feel an aching emptiness.  They realize that, despite all they have done—so many mountains climbed, so many goals achieved—they are incredibly lonely.  Thus it feels natural, as they walk together, for each to put an arm around the other.  Time passes by unnoticed, and suddenly they hear the honking of a car’s horn.  They find themselves at the park entrance, and in the street a man steps out of his car.  Her ride is here: Jaime has to go.

"Let me tell you about my accomplishments!"

As we wandered through Libbey Park, a woman walking her dog noticed our cameras.  She stopped and asked, “Are you holidaying this weekend?”  We smiled and told her yes.  “It is beautiful here, isn’t it?”  We had to admit it was.  “There’s so much to see in Ojai,” she told us, and after talking a little more, she wished us well, and resumed her walk with her pet.  In “The Bionic Woman,” Steve and Jaime’s feet carry them all over town.  We don’t see the majority of their walk, or what they see along the way.  I suspect that they didn’t notice the surroundings much either, as their eyes, and their hearts, were so focused upon each other.

"Walk along with me,
won't you?"

I’m not sure what most of the locals thought as we strolled through the park, taking photographs of what, to them, must have seemed rather ordinary.  I’m sure we stood out as visitors: being so close to Los Angeles, the population of Ojai swells on weekends.  But we didn’t travel to Ojai solely to relive moments from a TV show.  We were also celebrating a special moment in our lives, one that will link us forever.  Unlike Steve and Jaime, we didn’t feel the crushing weight of years apart.  Instead, we celebrated lives spent together.  So, in addition to talking, we also took photographs, so that in the future we could look back and remember how much we enjoyed visiting Libbey Park, and walking in Steve and Jaime’s footsteps. 

Dragon Dave

Related Internet Links

Libbey Park