Yet Another Unitarian Universalist
A postmodern heretic's spiritual journey
I like the contrast between colors that occurs at dusk when the sky turns a deep blue at about the same time that yellow-orange sodium vapor and incandescent lights turn on. I was enjoying this phenomenon a couple of evenings ago when I noticed that a nearby traffic light periodically turned some of the shadows red:
Carol and walked down to the waterfront in San Mateo. It was a beautiful evening. It’s the rainy season, so the hills across the bay are now a soft green. The setting sun glinted off windows of houses far up in the Oakland hills. And a beautiful golden haze hung over the waters of the bay.
“It’s the golden haze again,” I said to Carol. We’ve been seeing this for the past week or so: cold, still air has settled down over the area, trapping pollutants in the wide bowl formed by the mountains surrounding the bay. The people who monitor air pollution have been detecting high levels of fine particles, and because of that all wood fires have been banned most days this week. The air quality index has been moderate to unhealthy. That’s what has caused the golden haze.
“It’s beautiful,” I said. We kept walking, watching the shorebirds, and the play of light on the water.
Written on Monday, posted on Saturday; I’ve been slowed down this week by a cold this week.
Two nearly identical houses across the street from us went on the market today. An artist couple had been living there, but finally they decided to sell.
I was out in our driveway putting racks on our car. I saw a couple pushing a stroller come up to the first house, and I heard a well-dressed woman, presumably the real estate agent, tell them, “We’re not quite ready to open yet. Come back in half an hour.”
When I came back from picking up some plywood, the houses were obviously open. Two or more cars a minute drove slowly down our dead end street, slowing down when they reached the two houses. The sign out in front of the first house said, “Treasure behind door #1.” I didn’t bother to see what the sign in front of the second house said.
Carol went over to look. She said that paintings done by the artists who used to live there are hanging on the walls. She overheard someone say, “…but they won’t appreciate that much because they’re on the wrong side of….” We are on the wrong side of the tracks: gardeners and artists and cab drivers and ministers live down this street; many of us are renters, and the majority of us aren’t white.
But these houses are going for less than half a million, an incredible bargain in the Bay area housing market. So the people keep coming, amazed to find houses for so little money.
We’ve been having a lot of rain and clouds in the Bay area recently, and Carol and I have really been noticing the effect of the shorter days and longer darkness. By three thirty in the afternoon, we begin to feel a little gloomy, and we get gloomier as sundown approaches.
Some years ago, I was visiting my Aunt Martha and Uncle Bob in the autumn, at the time of year when you really begin to notice that the days are growing shorter. As sunset approached, I mentioned something about not liking the loss of daylight.
Aunt Martha looked out the window, and said, “Your uncle and I call this the Golden Hour.” And indeed, outside the window the sky was becoming golden.
Uncle Bob got up and said, “We usually have tea right about now. Would you like some?”
I helped him in the kitchen. Then we all sat down to tea and snacks while we talked about family and current events and anything else that came to mind. I felt my mood perceptibly lightening.
Earlier this autumn, I happened to remember that visit with Aunt Martha and Uncle Bob, and now I have taken to thinking of that late afternoon hour as the Golden Hour. And if I’m at home with Carol, I’ll turn to her and say, “Want me to make some tea?” She always says yes, so I make some tea. Soon we sit down to tea and snacks, and we both feel our moods perceptibly lightening.
Susan and I were standing outside the Main Hall yesterday morning, waiting for the first service to begin. A fifth-grade girl walked up, wearing a red sparkly t-shirt. I asked if she was dressed for the Christmas season. She said she was.
I introduced her to Susan, and added, “Susan and I are both Scrooges.”
The fifth-grader looked a little surprised, and maybe skeptical.
“Here, we’ll show you,” I said. “Ready, Susan?” Susan nodded.
And in perfect unison we said: “Bah! Humbug!”
The fifth-grader laughed to see two otherwise respectable middle-aged adults act like Scrooges. This is why you bring your children to a Unitarian Universalist congregation: so they learn what adults are really like.
Before it was Silicon Valley, it was “The Valley of Heart’s Delight” — at least, that’s what it’s called in a 1948 film extolling the virtues of Santa Clara County. You can watch the 18 minute film on the Internet Archive by clicking here.
Sausage-and-apple ravioli, green beans garnished with garlic chives that grow on our balcony, and olives. At Pomponio Beach 12 miles south of Half Moon Bay. It was kind of chilly.
The weather forecast said that today would be the hottest day of the heat wave, with temperatures expected to climb up to ninety-five degrees: just the kind of fall weather in which temperature inversions form. Sure enough, as I drove across the San Mateo Bridge this morning, I realized the air closest to the ground had a definite yellowish tinge; above a certain altitude, about a thousand feet there was an abrupt transition from that yellowish color to no color at all. The heat and sunlight was creating smog, and a temperature inversion was keeping the smog from dispersing upwards. My throat has felt a little raw since the hot weather, and the attendant temperature inversions, began two days ago, and now I could see the cause of the rawness: the nasty yellow-tinged smog I was breathing in.
We’re having one of those Bay area hot spells that come in late September or October. As I drove across the San Mateo Bridge, I looked ahead at the Peninsula. The hills of the Coastal Range were pale blue in the haze. I could see horizontal bands where the hills were more or less obscured: temperature inversions. When I got back to San Mateo and rolled down the car windows, there was a faint smell of smog in the air, and the temperature must have been over ninety degrees. And it’s supposed to be hotter tomorrow. And it’s supposed to continue for several days….