A Living Magazine - Day 9 - Downtown Napa

Rain drops fell again for a short time as I lay awake procrastinating about getting up. Finally I did and, almost on cue, the rain stopped. The sleeping bag and tarp weren't very wet, and if the pattern I was used to now, continued – that of rain in the morning and bright sun during the day – I knew I'd be able to dry everything later in the day.

My stuff was getting dirtier and dirtier, as might be expected. And, my body was beginning to do the same thing. If I was going to travel 4,000 miles on this crazy adventure, I would have to find a way to stay cleaner, and keep my stuff cleaner--and drier. 

I walked back up Lincoln Avenue toward the center of town. I passed the other guy in the field, and drew close to the fence to see if there was any sign of life. It looked like he was in the exact same position he had been the afternoon before. I cleared my throat to see if he would respond. And he did. He kind-of growled a bit. I stepped backwards on to the road and let him be. The next night though I would check on him again. I can't see how the hell he is even surviving without getting up to eat or go to the bathroom. And, I am faced with an interesting and ironic dilemma: As a fellow homeless person myself, do I hold high the sacred code of not ratting each other's sleep spots out? Or do I "out" him by calling the police, to make sure he's not sick or injured? I would think on it...  

As you have no doubt heard, California is in the midst of a very serious drought. I don't see water being wasted very often. Even restaurant guests and employees will gingerly pour their extra water over the roots of some nearby plant if they aren't going to drink it. But, occasionally I do catch an obvious waster. Quite honestly, it is usually the well-to-do; entitled by their high tax bracket to water the roadways and sidewalks, instead of their grass. I watched my "host" in Livermore waste an enormous amount of water, by leaving his sprinklers on one patch of lawn for two days and nights straight. That was intentional on his part (and illegal, by the way--carrying a $5,000 fine if caught). Such was not the case on this morning, just a broken line, but still it was disheartening to see. I stopped to take a video...

Getting back on my way, I reached 7 Eleven. The first order of business (after buying a coffee) at the store, was to find the library. I asked the kind woman behind the counter for directions, and she said she had no idea. But, then her friend walked in and she asked her. They spoke in Hindi for a second, and then the clerk told me all I had to do was follow the street that ran right beside their store—Main Street. Well now! That made sense.

I thanked them and followed their advice, ending up in the only part of town I had not yet been: down town. I'd finally made my way into the center. The library wasn't right on Main Street, but the courthouse was, and the county administrative office was. Surely, the library was not far off. I strolled around the corner on to Coombs Street where it meets Fifth Street, and there was the sign.

Again, I was way early--it was about 7:30 am. The library didn't open until 10:00. More time to kill... It was a good chance to do more exploring and take some pictures. 

Love this sign! Ya think?

One World Sculpture

I was seeing these hand prints in different colors all around town.

Look kids, a fossil!

County Seat

I didn't even know this.

Cat Cleaning

9/11 Memorial - Pieces of the North and
South Towers of the World Trade Center 

Looks like a Wall was lost...

Looked and tasted like blueberries, but they aren't.
Looking for the species... anyone know?
[Update, from a very kind Northern California reader:
"Mahonia aquifolium, or Oregon Grape, aka Oregon Grape Holly".]

True Morning Glory - Ipomoea tricolor 

Three Ravens in Town - One Will be Seen Later

The "Wave Bench"

A View of the River

Sculpture made from an old culvert.

Interesting idea for river bank support.

Immature Figs

More Reflectivity

So this is what an artichoke flower looks like.

The grapes are starting to ripen.

The grid-like layout of the town was a blessing, compared to some places I'd been. Each street terminated in an “End” sign. This was really good, because sometimes I can't tell if streets turn at a right angle and continue. Often, this convolution is unmarked. Lost drivers have little problem, because they can simply take the 30 seconds needed to reach another intersection and then see more street signs. When one is walking at 3 mph, the space between signs can spell confusion, especially if side streets are involved as a distraction.

Though I always do my best to plan things out in my navigational efforts, I seem to miss at least one major detail that would be helpful. This characterized the first crossing as well. I am getting better at it, but it is a painfully slow process. Another person with more common sense would have an easier time, perhaps. Some common sense is inherited, and sometimes – apparently – it must be earned by being learned.

Nevertheless, I was doing OK in Napa. I was doing better in general on this new journey. Using the sun to navigate makes things go relatively smoothly. It is only when that golden orb is lost behind clouds that I begin to falter, and need to rely on my compass and screen shots of Google Maps.

I found my way back to the library about 10 minutes before it opened. Outside was one of the three Ravens I'd seen down town. He looked like he couldn't fly and something might be wrong with his left leg. He just sat there squawking at his buddies who were camped out in a tree nearby. He happened to be on a kid's bicycle tire... 

The Raven - I named him Edgar. 

The young man came out to check on his bike and we talked for a little while about the raven and other things. His name was Skyler, and he was a very intelligent and interesting guy. He lives here in Napa and he even has a band with a girl his age. He sings and she plays guitar. I asked him if they write their own music. He said they did, and they have an album coming out in December.  

Skyler - Musician, Scholar and Napa Native

We examined the raven up close. The bird wasn't afraid of us at all. The only thing he seemed concerned with was keeping in vocal touch with his two companions, who constantly swooped around calling him to join them. He would look up at them, squawk, and then move his wings like a kind of sign language to show them that he couldn't fly.

The Corvidae family of birds (which includes: "crows, ravens, jackdaws, jays, nutcrackers, magpies, choughs, treepies and others"), are the smartest birds in the world. Ravens communicate in complex vocal sounds and gestures. They use tools, and can figure out how to open and adjust things to get food. They have even been known to simply play with objects and genuinely just have fun.

Edgar was not having fun on this day, though he became very popular the longer he stuck around the library. I thought it strange that he had ended up there with me, after I'd seen him earlier in the morning, and in a different location. 

The library opened up and I found a terrific space to work all day. The building was clean, modern and comfortable. I was able to complete the last two posts there, and am writing this one there as well. 

Around noon, I took a break and went outside to see how Edgar was faring. Somehow, he'd made his way across the street to a white picket fence at the edge of someone's yard. Two teenagers walked over and made an iPhone video of him. One of them reached out and got him to climb on his hand. Edgar didn't mind this much, but had a hard time standing up, so the kid put him back down.

Soon afterward some older folks approached and decided to call animal control to see if Edgar could be helped to fly again. I thought this was nice, but it was kind of sad to know that his two buddies in the trees above might never see him again...

Edgar - We may see him... Nevermore

Such are the ways of nature--animal and human. We do our best to keep up, but when we stumble, when we become separated, whether by choice or involuntarily--when we become different, our friends may stick around for a little while, trying to fit us back into their world. However, eventually, when the gulf has grown and the understanding (read as conformity?) that once existed is dissolved, the one who is alone... stays alone. And, the group moves on, eventually forgetting those who were lost...

That theme of being left behind by the world stuck in my head all day. After I was done working at the library I headed back toward my sleep spot on Lincoln Avenue. I needed something to eat, so I used a Coinstar machine at the Lucky (a chain of western grocery stores), and then went to Subway. I have settled on their sandwiches for being the healthiest and most reasonably priced of all the "fast" food places. For a foot long sandwich, loaded with veggies, meat and cheese, with a bag of chips, it is only $6.50. I eat one half and save the other half for the next day. That's only $3.25 per meal (or per day, if you only eat once a day).

As I waited for traffic to clear before heading into my field of dreams (ha!), I watched an unfortunate man on the other side of the road, walking very slowly. He was downcast, I could intuit that he was desperately sad, perhaps completely without hope. He was a big guy, had a backpack on, and would not turn his gaze from the hard ground upon which he trod. I have a very well-developed sense about the emotional or psychological disposition of people I see. And, I myself looked down at the sidewalk, putting myself in his shoes...  

Suddenly, I heard a BANG...BANG...BANG... I looked up and saw that he was standing in front of a construction sign, slamming his forehead into it repeatedly. I pulled my backpack on and crept toward his side of the road. Tentatively, I crossed over to the other side as he went around a corner. I walked faster trying to catch up to him, but he was too far away. When I rounded the same corner, he had completely disappeared into the darkness. Not every person can be helped... Some people are already dead. they have the Spark still, imprisoned within their human minds. But, their soul is already gone...

The next day I would find some refreshing relief and begin looking into a way to get through the rest of California more quickly. It is time to go to Oregon...