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Lu and I are cruising around the Berkeley hills, as is our want. We start this conversation at a liquor store on Arlington Avenue in Kensington. Then, we drive up to the Berkeley Rose Garden, stopping to take a leak, then drop down to the northside of Cal campus before climbing back to Lu’s house on Summit. Much depends on a red Toyota pickup with a leaky Gem Top. We talk of bikes and gears, tailortots and jazz. We float high above the city.
"Didn’t you take toys apart when you were a kid, Lu?"
"No, I always hoped they wouldn’t break, so I wouldn’t have to put them back together. The closest I came to that was with my bicycle, where I got into components, and I knew about components, but I could never put them on myself. I’d take it in and say, ‘Do this for me.’ But I got kind of creative dreaming up gear ratios and kinds of tires to do certain things, kinds of frames. So, that way I’m OK, but actually figuring out how to take it apart and put it together, I’m low on the charts there."
"I was never much of an engineer, but I like tinkering."
"I’ve never...I’ve hated it."
"Hated it?"
"I’ve hated it. In fact I have a phobia about it."
"I want to stop and see my house on Colegate where I rolled down the hill in my tailortot."
"That’s up here a little further. That’s where Bob Hawley lives. He’s dying, man. Did I tell you?"
"No."
"I went by his store the other day. I knew he wasn’t well. He told me he had cancer of the liver, and they had given him a year to live, and then he went into a seizure, and I thought he was having a fucking stroke. He told me not to tell his old lady. He told me he’d sent my book to Ann Charters. I’d given him four or five for his store. And she sent him a nice letter about it."
"Nice."
"Sam Charters, do you know his work?"
"No, I don’t."
"That’s Ann’s husband. He’s a very fine poet. Bob’s published a lot of his work. He’s very underrated, and he’s translated this guy Thomas Transtöemer. Both he and Ann are friends with him. He’s a Swedish poet, and he’s also into recording. He’s got a recording studio of some kind in Europe. Jazz."
"I think it’s going to rain on us again in a about one minute."
"Man, I used to ride these hills on that bike. That was my most contented period, riding that bike. This is Colegate."
"I think it’s on the other side of the hill."
"It’s only two or three blocks long."
"It’s on the far end where that other street goes down."
"I like you. You’re one of the few people who like to drive around and look at houses, still. Everyone else is in a big hurry."
"I think architecture is one of the unifying things about..."
"...about chaos."
"Makes you feel at home. Here...slow down."
"Which one?"
"The second one."
"You lived in that one, too?"
"Back up a little bit. This one. It had a cement driveway. I was in my teetertot. You know what a teetertotter is?"
"I know, believe me, but I believe you said a tailortot."
"Right, tailortot, I was in it, and it rolled down the hill. Somebody ran out and caught me before it hit the street. But see, I didn’t roll that far. In your imagination it’s like a steep thing."
"I remember."
"I wasn’t even going a mile an hour. Well, that’s pretty fast."
"That’s very fast."
"We’re all going pretty fast."
"Yeah, I grew to love all these people, and I feel real bad about them suddenly dying. Like Ginsberg. I don’t want to see Creeley die, although I’d like to walk up and shake him real hard."
"And Levertov."
"I always thought Levertov’s health was real good."
"Did she smoke?"
"I don’t know. That was my big question."
"Stress."
"Yeah, she was a workaholic. She was a teacher and an activist and a prolific, fucking writer. She was driven."
"75 is a pretty long life."
"Your mother’s 87."
"Being eighty is not that uncommon."
"People that live urban, fast-paced lives...like my dad...shit, he was 74 when he got sick, and it took him five years to die. His parents stayed very healthy and died in their 101st year. I’ve got an aunt that’s 97."
"And my dad’s going to be 98 this April, and he’s...what’s the name of this hill with all the churches?"
"Holy Hill. So, you’ve steeped yourself in a lot of theology in the last few years, right?"
"Not so much intellectually, reading, some of that, but more in terms of an actual practice level."
"But that means talking to experts."
"I came into it without the idea that I want to understand every facet of the Vajrayana. I was interested more in being a practicioner. Doing the rituals. Integrating them with daily life."
"Lifting the weights. Letting them lift you."
"I had years of studying comparative religion and mythology."
"Where did you do that...like at home?"
"At home, but I studied eastern and western philosophies and world literature in half a dozen colleges, but at a certain point it becomes repetitious...a dead end."
"Well, if it doesn’t start creating something for you, it gets to be a bag you’re carrying around, and you go around and around, and nothing happens."
"Roll up the window a little bit?"
"You got a cold?"
"I don’t want to get one."
"This OK?"
"Yes, better. I should get my mom to knit me a scarf like she did for you."
"This is a great one. I wear it everywhere. I mean to thank her again. Tell her how excellent it is. How ecstatic I am. When someone boosted that last one, just the same color, my favorite, I was really bummed for quite awhile."
"The Rose Garden looks nice. You know, Maybeck designed it like an amphitheater. The drama is the view of the Golden Gate."
"The Maybeck on Euclid, have you ever been to a concert?"
"No, I’ve peeked in."
"I’ve been to a couple of concerts."
"Isn’t it a private home?"
"It’s attached to a private home. The people who live there maintain the theater. They have a regular performance series. They don’t use any mikes. It only holds 50 people. It has perfect acoustics."
"Beautiful."
"Elegant. I was going to see Monty Alexander, but they were all sold out. He’s a great pianist from the Canary Islands."
"Bird lives."
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