Best Buds, Dead Batteries and Angry Cows

It’s been an eventful February.

Bodhi’s homeboy Ethan flew over from Jackson Heights for a visit. I’ve known Ethan’s mom since the 8th grade. When she decided to move to New York several years ago, I asked my friend Joe if she could crash at his place. I met Joe in New Delhi and traveled around India with him during the summer of 2001.

In 2007, I was ordained by the Church of Spiritual Humanism (dot com) and married them on a rooftop in Brooklyn.  Ethan and Bodhi were born one day apart and, while their friendship may have been overtly predetermined, they seem to really enjoy each other’s company. They’re even collaborating on creative projects already.

Ethan showed Bodhi how to crawl, while Bodhi showed Ethan the wonders of eating table food.  All in all a great visit, documented admirably by Ethan’s mom here.  

On Wednesday, the sun finally emerges, beckoning the B-man and I to the Briones Regional Park.  After a good old fashioned soak fest, the soft, rolling hills of the East Bay explode with life and color.

We hike the Bear Creek watershed then take back roads over the hill to Berkeley. I pull off to the side of Grizzly Peak Road at the top of the Berkeley hills to take in the view of the city and the bay while letting Bodhi finish up his nap. To my right, two young ladies are burning one down and blasting cacophony from their bright blue V dub.  

Bodhi begins to rustle and it’s time to leave. I turn the key, but my car won’t start. Choking, wheezing, sputtering. Nothing. Then I realize I had left my lights on the whole time.

Crap. I’m at the top of the hill, no phone reception, my car won’t start and now Bodhi is crying. I look over to the girls parked next to me and smoke is billowing out of their windows. They look nervous as I walk over to ask them for a jump. Turns out they were in a fantastic mood and happily allowed me to clip my cables to their battery. 

The next day, we got charged by a cow at Bort Meadow.  Bodhi had been there once before, four days before he was born. This time, he’s strapped to my chest as we saunter through grass valley, absorbing the sun’s rays and soaking in the silence while a group of three cows calmly and happily mow the lush, natural lawn. 

Immediately after I take this video, the cow in the middle looks up at me and takes a step forward. He abruptly exhales and gallops in place. My heart drops. Then he begins running at us.

Oh. My. God.

My water bottle falls to the earth as I admonish myself, “don’t run. Running might excite him even more.” I turn around and begin to walk. Briskly. He continues to run for a few more feet, then stops, whips his head around in a frenzy and gallops in place as if to say, “and stay out!”

Holy heck that was scary.

Scooting and Skanking

Bodhi is becoming more and more mobile everyday. He can go from sitting up, to flat on his chest, to on his hands and knees, then back to sitting up again. With something to grab onto, he can pull himself to a standing position. When he does, he bobs up and down and grins, clearly very proud of himself. While not quite crawling yet, I did spot him scooting himself forward today on our smooth concrete floors. He shocks most people with the amount of food he consumes with his two bottom teeth and four more coming in up top.

After feeding him some milk the other day, he wiggled off my lap, sat next to me on the couch and joined me in watching the Warriors game. Moments like this remind me that he is becoming a little boy. Surprisingly,  this does not really make me sad. It’s pretty exciting actually. Can’t wait to talk to the little dude one day. In the meantime, watching him learn about and manipulate the world around him continues to be my life’s greatest joy.

Went to a ska show a block from my house this weekend. The Street Vendors and The Uptones both played tight, clean and irresistibly skankable traditional ska music, and I was reminded how powerful and moving the combination of syncopation and full horn line can be. The real treat for me, however, was Hectic, an Operation Ivy tribute band who plays the “Energy” album from start to finish for every show. I was sincerely hoping that Jesse Michaels, who lives in Berkeley and, as recently as last year, played “The Crowd” at 924 Gilman with Mike Park would surprise the small, but enthusiastic gathering with a ditty or two, but was not too disappointed to dance my face off to some of the best music ever written performed admirably by some kids from Santa Rosa who clearly love Op Ivy a lot. Twenty years after Jesse Michaels reminded us that “nothing can be changed except ourselves,” his message of peace and unity is probably more pertinent today than it’s ever been before.