Ce N'est Pas Une Tomate

Is it a picture of a tomato on the kitchen counter or is it art? 

I'm not fishing for compliments. I'm trying to make a decision.

When does an object become representative of something else? Where does art happen? On the kitchen counter? In the camera? On the computer screen? In the eyes of the beholder?

And what does it have to do with Pasadena?

Guest Author, John Vorhaus: Those Who Can Do

I recently came across a post by John Vorhaus at Writer Unboxed. When he mentioned his upcoming workshop at the Courtyard by Marriott in Old Town Pasadena, I wrote to him right away. Not only is John from the San Gabriel Valley, he's also a prolific author and an experienced writing teacher. Please welcome today's guest author, John Vorhaus.

I’ve been a writer forever. Then one day I became a teacher of writers, and the very next morning woke up with a big headache, because somebody told me, “Those who can’t do, teach,” and that made me feel sad. But then I asked myself, well, why do I teach? The answer was simple: I teach because it helps me learn; whenever there’s something I want to understand better, I try to find someone to pay me to teach it. I’ve done that with writing, public speaking, poker, even mime, and I’ve found it a very effective life strategy; I commend it to your attention. 

I also teach, though, because it helps other people (mimes, writers, poker players, what-have-you) and I seem to get a great deal of pleasure out of helping. The joke I tell on myself is, “Don’t thank me, I define myself through service.” But John Wesley Harding says, “Your jokes will become your reality,” so I guess mine has.

Still, though, "Those who can't do, teach," what do I do with that? For one thing, I can look at my body of work and say, "Hey, now, that's just not true." After all, I've written more than a dozen books, including novels (The California Roll, The Albuquerque Turkey), writing books (The Comic Toolbox, Creativity Rules) and many, many books on poker. So you can't say I'm not entirely a "can't-do" guy. But even if I were, so what? I happen to think I'm a pretty darn good teacher, in that I can communicate instruction clearly and helpfully, I care about my students and wish to see them improve, and I have a passion for the work. With all of this in mind, I've managed to kill the ugly little ogre of, "Those who can't do, teach," and replace him with a much friendlier, cuddlier motto:

"Those who can do, do both."

Which brings me by roundabout means to my upcoming workshop, Living the Writer’s Life (August 13 in Pasadena). Like all my writing classes, it's designed to help writers close the gap between where they are in their writing lives and where they want to be. We'll cover a lot of global writing issues related to the practice of writing, and also lots of nuts/bolts stuff like killing writer's block, building great characters, and creating stories from scratch. So come along if you want to have a day's worth of writing fun and be a better writer when you're done.

But that's not the point of this post. Really, it isn't. Because whether you come to my workshop or not, I have your attention now, and thus the chance to speak to you directly. So let me say this: If you're a writer, keep writing. If you have any artistic or creative passion, keep chasing it. Win or lose – best-seller or no seller – chasing your passion is the number one way to make your life rise. The number two way is teaching, so you might try your hand at that. Because those who can do, do both.

And – take it from me – teachers always learn.

John Vorhaus resides in cyberspace at johnvorhaus.com and tweets, for no apparent reason, @TrueFactBarFact. Stop by and say hi.

Filters

It's a given that we run, bike, hike, ride our horses and walk our dogs in the Arroyo Seco. We also park our world-famous football stadium, our childrens' museum and our aquatic center there. And around those popular people magnets, we park our cars.

The parking lots need occasional maintenance, and I joined a clean-up last weekend. Wilson Lau, Watershed Coordinator at the Arroyo Seco Foundation (ASF), put out the word on the Arroyo Seco chat list ("What better way to show love for your country than to clean up the Arroyo?...Gloves and trash bags will be provided...") and I posted about it here on PDP.

I expected the turn-out to be small, but it was small. Besides Lau and Tim Martinez, a college student, native plant expert and one of the ASF's top volunteers, the only person to show up besides me was a PCC student who shuns the spotlight, so to speak. The four of us cleaned several large islands in two hours. 15 or 20 people could have done the whole parking lot in about 90 minutes, but I doubt they would have had more fun.

Our parking lot islands are populated with black sage, little red berry and California rose. The latter's hips shimmy in the photo above and its thorns wrote their tale on my forearms. I got an excellent upper body workout. 

The islands, and the spaces next to them that look like they're paved with beige bricks, are a permeable filtration system that removes trash and impurities from storm water before it runs into the Arroyo stream bed. I never knew a parking lot island could be an engineering marvel, but in Lot I they are marvels indeed.

Another marvel is the number of cigarette butts down there getting filtered out of our water. An amazing amount of cigarette butts. I said to Wilson, "Are these things major polluters? Or do they biodegrade?" He said "Oh, they biodegrade if you give 'em a hundred years or so."

If you'd like to be informed about Arroyo volunteering opportunities, you can fill out the ASF's volunteer form. There's always something to do. It's likely you'll meet Wilson and Tim in the process. Big plus.

Zen Monday: #154

Zen Monday is the day you experience the photo and give us your thoughts rather than me telling you what I think the photo's about.

Just write your thoughts as they come to you. If you put them here in the comments, we can all read them.

Vintage Altadena

Ah...ah...ah...

Ah...

Ahhcross the street from Tangles and Locks, you'll often see these babies parked in all their vintage glory (and I do mean glory) at what is now called Paulie's Service Station. (Used to be Ronnie's Automotive. Enlarge the top photo to see the Ronnie's sign.)

I went back and forth about whether or not to blur the license plates, which I usually do for privacy's sake. But if you own one of these babies, when your plans require you to go incognito, you take the other car.

I'm not a car freak. I don't ordinarily call cars "babies." But ahh...

Tangles and Locks

Tangles and Locks barbershop, at 2025 N. Lake Avenue, has been an Altadena business for over 23 years. I've been meaning to stop by for a long time--not 23 years but a while, nonetheless--because I wanted to take a picture of the suit of armor standing in the back corner.

Yesterday I was in the neighborhood, I had the time and I had my camera. So I stepped inside and asked.

The owner introduced himself as D.L. He said, sure, I could take a picture. He even moved a few things out of the way of the suit of armor, and I took some pictures of it. But I quickly realized what I really wanted was pictures of the people and the shop.

I'm uncomfortable asking, but it helped that one of the guys there was a photographer. We got to talking and he showed me some of his photos via his flickr page on his iPhone. The shots were outstanding, and many were of people. I asked if he was comfortable asking people to pose. He said you basically get back what you put out there. In other words, if you're comfortable and friendly about it, people will react that way to you.

So I asked the men in the shop if I could take pictures while business went on as usual. I don't know why I find it so hard to ask. Everyone was fine with it.

D.L. also owns one of those gorgeous red cars you often see parked at the vintage gas station across the street. I'll show you those tomorrow.

My pictures of the suit of armor turned out fine. The shop has a medieval armor motif, and D.L. told me he created many of the decorative pieces himself. But despite its technical imperfections, this is my favorite shot of the day. That's D.L. on the left.

Garages, 3

Mild-mannered garage by day...

But by night, it's...
(cue 1950's scary movie music)

Garage! of! Evil!

Bet and Breakfast

Here's the view you're missing if you're not having breakfast at Clocker's Corner.

Actually, this is only a peek into the panorama of peace for eyes and brain as you watch the horses take their morning workout. From the deck overlooking the Santa Anita Racetrack you can't see much but the track itself, and beyond it, mountains, as far as your eyes will go. Although you're conveniently located to the 210 freeway you can't see it, and you can't hear it. You can, however, hear the horses thundering by while you enjoy your eggs and coffee.

Can't beat it.

No Trash, Either

Don't fill up your weekend yet! I've got something for you to do Saturday morning: fill up some trash bags.

Join Wilson Lau, watershed coordinator at the Arroyo Seco Foundation, in an Arroyo clean-up day!

Yessssss! It's going to be fun! I love cleaning! You should see my house! !!!!!!!!!

Okay, you should not see my house. I don't love cleaning. But I love the Arroyo, so I'll be there. That's a big deal, because it means I'll miss the farmers' market and I'm out of granola.

Meet Wilson in the parking lot by the Rose Bowl Aquatic Center Saturday, July 9 at 9:00a.m. Gloves and trash bags will be provided. Wear work clothes and closed-toe shoes. Although it's supposed to be cooler this weekend than last, "cool" is relative. I recommend a water bottle, sunscreen and perhaps a wide-brimmed hat as well. Something jaunty.

Bougainvillea Killer

This wildflower grows alongside one of my favorite mountain trails. I'd like to grow things like this in my yard, along quiet (if short) pathways.

The holiday and Karin Bugge's recent Patch article (Why You Should Plant a Native Garden) inspired me to work in the garden yesterday. I want to create a native plant garden but I've decided not to buy any new plants until I figure out how not to kill the ones I've already got. It gets frustrating--these two thumbs I have, which are the color of pale flesh. The closest they ever get to green is garden envy.

But learning involves making mistakes. Or you could call it failing or, in my case, killing. This all takes a lot of time. It's okay, I'm not going anywhere.

About ten days ago I moved a small, weedy bush to the rear of the yard and transplanted a bougainvillea in its place. The weedy bush was a volunteer--it was kind of ugly and spiny--and despite the nice hole I dug for it and the compost I planted with it, it died. Ungrateful little bush.

I didn't care. What I cared about was the bougainvillea. I moved it from a place where it was getting too much water to the spot vacated by the bush, where it would get good sun and the dry soil it likes. I had read on the web about how to transplant a bougainvillea. I knew it might drop all its leaves.

It did. It died.

Today I dug up the weedy bush and put it in the yard waste bin. I smoothed over the hole with a shovel. A volunteer pumpkin or squash or something is growing there. I watered it. I decided it was best not to transplant it.

Then I went to dig up the bougainvillea. I didn't want to. I felt bad about killing that plant. I don't know why; I can get another bougainvillea. But it seemed like another failure, maybe because it didn't volunteer--because I yanked it from its perfectly nice pot and planted it first in too much shade, then moved it to another place with too much water, then moved it to a third place, stressing the poor thing to death.

I make fun of my garden failures, but honestly I want to be done with them. It's a story I tell about myself: "I'm not good with plants." I don't want it to be true anymore. I'm tired of the emptiness, the lack of life, in our back yard.

I leaned down to pull the dead bougainvillea from the ground. Close up, I saw tiny green buds on its branches.

My bougainvillea is not a failure. I am not a bougainvillea killer. I am one step closer to telling a different story about my garden.

**************************************

Susan Campisi found a pair of gorgeous dogs on Saturday. They're at the Pasadena Humane Society, for now. Are they yours? Would you like them to be? Click the link, please, their time may be limited.

Zen Monday: #153

It's a Monday two-fer! Zen Monday and Independence Day!

Happy Fourth of July and Happy Zen to you all.

Zen Monday is the day you experience the photo and give us your thoughts rather than me telling you what I think the photo's about.

Independence Day is the day Americans celebrate their independence from the oppressive British Crown. Huh.

Just write your thoughts as they come to you, like the chalk artist did.

Peck Road Park

When Karen Klein spoke with passion about Peck Road Park in her guest author post here the other day, I had no idea where the park was. Apparently I'm in the majority. And that's one of the park's many pluses.

Just get off the 210 at Myrtle and head south. Myrtle becomes Peck and there you are.

You may want to see this on a map.

It took about 20 minutes to get there from my place in Pasadena. If you live in Arcadia, Temple City or Monrovia it'll be even less.

The park is undergoing improvements, thanks to the volunteers at Amigos de los Rios. Talk about urban interface. It's right in the middle of everything. That's the gist of Peck Road Park; right in the middle of everything you've got an oasis of trees (mature beauties plus acres of new plantings), picnic tables, walkways, bike trails and a lake--a lake which was once a quarry. I never saw the quarry but I'm going to stick my neck out here and say the lake is an improvement.

Speaking of necks: ducks and geese! Living together! Is nothing sacred?

Amazing, isn't it, what's right in the middle of everything, right under our noses?

Oranges

Our orange tree is full of ripe oranges, with new little green ones coming in and needing space. Being the kind of person who has trouble growing weeds, I don't question this. I just thank the universe and pick the oranges. These oranges are juicy and goo-ood. Two-syllable good.

Some people can take 'em or leave 'em.

Other people only leave 'em when they're interrupted by predato--uh, larger people. But it's okay. We have enough.

Theme Day: The color green

I admit this one had me stumped.

Pasadena just doesn't have much green. We have other things, like hiking trails...

...famous bridges...

...and the occasional spot to sit and enjoy it all.

But there's not a whole lot of green.

We have other colors, of course.

Orange, for example...

...red...

...pink...

...and even bleu.

But I don't see a lot of green around here. 

Wait.

There is one thing. One Pasadena thing that's green.

Our street signs. 

Whew.


City Daily Photo has surpassed 1400 in number, with 1404 blogs in our worldwide family as of 6/30/11. The newest addition is Vilnius, Lithuania. Click on over to Vilnius and say hello! And check out today's theme participants here.

Side Street Madonna

The stretch of Orange Grove Blvd. between Los Robles and Fair Oaks has Mexican restaurants, a Latin grocery, a hair salon and more. People live here, work here, get stuff done here. It's all a bit tattered--the only shiny thing besides the church is the new plant nursery on the corner of Orange Grove and Marengo. There's always a lot going on.

Google's street view photo, showing the north side of Orange Grove between Worcester and Marengo, must have been taken before I moved to Pasadena. The photo shows small homes. Now it's all storefronts.

The side streets go north and south into the neighborhoods. Just north of Orange Grove on a street called Worcester, a faded Madonna waits and watches in a meditative pose. I've driven by many times, and didn't notice until I finally stopped that she has little plastic stars glued into her thick, chipping paint. Someone must have thought the stars had value; many of them are missing.

Art like this abounds in Los Angeles, where Catholic Latin America makes its second home. Altadena Hiker did a couple of posts a while back featuring photos of murals along a downtown commute. East of West L.A., is always finding urban religious icons with which to haunt us. (Just look under "previous posts" and click on what intrigues you.)

Some of Pasadena's hidden treasures are more hidden than others.

Guest Author: Karen E. Klein

Today's guest author, Karen E. Klein, is the Smart Answers columnist for BusinessWeek.com as well as the LA Times Small Business columnist. That would seem to be plenty, but Karen is also much more. Please welcome Karen E. Klein.

photo by Steve Scauzillo

Thanks to Facebook, I’ve recently reconnected with elementary school classmates that I haven’t heard from in nearly 40 years.

The experience has taken me back to Los Angeles’ westside in the 1960s and early ‘70s. Our neighborhood, Ladera Heights, was located near vast tracts of open space owned at the time by the Hughes Aircraft Company.

This area, where we occasionally caught tadpoles, was referred to as “swampland.” Adults hoped these ugly mudflats would soon be put to good use, like the “beautiful” Marina del Rey development, that had been built in the 1950s.

Surely something was wrong with me, I thought as a grade-schooler. To me, the Marina, with its dense tangle of masts and thick, concrete high-rises, was the ugly monstrosity.

And the deepest yearnings of my heart were for natural places. I dreamt of flowing streams and open water. Whenever we drove by the Hughes property, I would look for glimpses of meandering creeks and shorebirds, tall grasses and slender cattails. They took my breath away.

No one else seemed sorry that all of it would eventually be paved over, dredged out and channeled under. I concluded that I must be some kind of weird throwback.

Life went on; we moved to Orange County and eventually to the San Gabriel Valley. I almost never revisited my old stomping grounds. But I couldn’t have been happier when I read that a group was dedicated to saving the old Hughes holdings. And it wasn’t a mud flat after all (somehow, I’d known that all along), but an estuary, The Ballona Wetlands. 

It is one of the main things that make me stubbornly optimistic about the future, this ecological consciousness-raising that has taken place during my lifetime. Up and down the coast, plans to fill in and pave over wild places are being scuttled and damage done by commercial developers is being remediated.

The fight goes on, even here in our own backyard. I’m happy to be part of a new group, Friends of Peck Park, that aims to restore and revitalize a little gem located where Arcadia, El Monte, Temple City and Duarte meet. My husband, Steve, and I first stumbled onto this area, formally known as the Peck Road Water Conservation Park, on our bikes nearly a decade ago.

The 200-acre park, an abandoned rock quarry, houses a beautiful lake that attracts hundreds of species of local and migratory birds. The views of the San Gabriel Mountains are stunning. Yet right now, scruffy, run-down Peck Park is best known for gang crime by night and a county prison work-release program by day.

This Saturday, July 2, our Friends group will be hosting tours and an “open house” for the park, with the help of nonprofit Amigos de los Rios. Come over at noon, bring your own picnic lunch and enjoy a presentation about the park's restoration and potential, with tours to follow. You'll get a look at this jewel of the SGV’s “Emerald Necklace.” It's at 5401 N. Peck Road, Arcadia. Look hard for a small sign off Peck Road where you'll turn right (coming south on Peck) into the parking lot. You’ll learn about restoration and I promise you’ll be inspired.

The Storied Rialto

Just because it's not Christmas doesn't mean folks--or in this case, a theatre--couldn't use a miracle.

The Rialto Theatre in downtown South Pasadena has been crumbling for a long time. South Pas residents want to see this grand old palace resurrected and put to good use. The effort is underway, and you can help by taking part in a unique project. All you have to do is share your memories of the Rialto. Quoting from the press release:

"Laurie Allee, with Glimpses of South Pasadena and SouthPasadena.Patch.com will be at the Chamber of Commerce on Wednesday, June 29th [that's tomorrow] videotaping brief stories and remembrances of the Rialto Theatre...

Did you ever sneak in? Stay all night and all day? Meet your future mate in the balcony? Wear tights and throw toast at midnight? Perhaps you saw Art Clokey there live and caught an actual piece of Gumby? Maybe you heard a live rock band in the 80's? Or were in the band! Perhaps you simply saw a very special movie in a very special theatre . . . whatever your tale, we hope you'll tell...

So come on by...from 9am until noon at SoPas Gallery - 1121 Mission Street. It will be brief and informal, with very short interviews. And once the piece is edited you will see a copy, and so will the rest of the world, as we post it online to raise awareness that we all want to see - the return of the Rialto!

If you think you will attend, please let us know by emailing here."

Entropy's not for everyone, and surely it's not for the Rialto. I hope you'll share your stories with Laurie.

Zen Monday: #152

Zen Monday is the day you experience the photo and give us your thoughts rather than me telling you what I think the photo's about.

Just say what you think and have a good time. There are no prizes, although sometimes there are kudos.

The Treasures on Your Block

In Pasadena, if you have an organized block with a Neighborhood Watch, you can arrange with the police department to block off your street for your block party. (Check with the Pasadena PD for details.) Children do not tire of riding their bikes in the road. No bouncy house necessary.

That's what we did yesterday on my block. When the kids could take a moment off from speeding up and down the street on their wiggle cars, a friendly representative from the Pasadena PD was there to fingerprint them. (Perhaps it's a safety thing, but you never know if one of those cherubs will turn out to be a criminal brat.)

The adults enjoyed the party even more than the children did, if that's possible. Some neighbors see each other often but more don't. It's nice to check in with folks whose schedules don't collide with yours. It builds community to welcome new people to the block, find out who got taller over the school year, and adore each others' little ones as they whiz by.

The title of this post refers to a gift John and I received when we bought our home. "The Treasures on Your Block" is a series of booklets, written by Ann Scheid in the 1980's, about the architecture in various Pasadena neighborhoods. Scheid (speaking of treasures) is a Pasadena historian, writer and community activist, among other things. The woman we bought our house from gave us her copy because our house was featured in it along with others in the neighborhood. The booklet is hard to find these days--a rare treasure.

We love our home, not because it's in a booklet but because it's so familiarly ours. It's our refuge, our place, a JohnandPetrea hermetically sealed envelope set aside from the world where we keep all our stuff, real and imaginary, in one place. We love it also because it's in this neighborhood, surrounded by these neighbors. If these people were to be gone tomorrow, the treasure would lose its value.

(Yes. It's a record player. On the front lawn. Some brought a dish to pass. Some brought paper plates and napkins. One brought music.)

Tight Life

I rarely post night shots--not because I don't like them, but because I don't get out much. Time for a change.

I don't know about you, but lately I'm tight-fisted with my time and my money. These days we're all working hard and not taking much time off. Even then we don't spend much. I don't know about you, but I'm saving up for the next recession.

Sometimes, though, you've got to take your battered psyche out to happy hour. Yes, a glass of Two Buck Chuck poured by your own tight fist at home is cheaper than a glass poured by a server in a downtown bistro, but you're paying for elegance, leisure, and the festive feeling of being out with your friends and their psyches. And don't forget the server has a recession to pay for, too.

Doesn't tonight seem like the time? The weather's balmy, the summer's new. A glass of wine at a balcony cafe and a stroll through Old Town, or along South Lake Avenue (for ice cream) would be an indulgent, healing way to waste an hour or two, perhaps with fists unclenched long enough to hold hands.