It has been a while since I’ve given an update on local restaurants, and since there has been quite a bit of activity in recent months, I thought I’d report on some unexpected closures, exciting openings and events around the county.
A LOSS IN LARKSPUR
Perhaps the most surprising news is the shuttering of both the Tavern at Lark Creek and Yankee Pier in Larkspur. Though the Tavern at Lark Creek never came close to achieving the success of its earlier incarnation (Lark Creek Inn opened 25 years ago) it was still part of a long-running empire that began chef Bradley Ogden’s stratospheric rise to restaurant stardom. And the Lark Creek Restaurant Group’s sister property, Yankee Pier, was truly one of the first restaurants to pull off the difficult task of appealing to both adults and children without compromise. They managed to offer white table cloth-dining with a good wine list in a handsome, casual fish shack-style space, complete with a sandbox. Like I said, no easy feat. It feels like the end of an era. Stay tuned to learn what will be next at these two locations.t has been a while since I’ve given an update on local restaurants, and since there has been quite a bit of activity in recent months, I thought I’d report on some unexpected closures, exciting openings and events around the county.
WAVE GOODBYE TO WIPEOUT
Less surprising is the closure of the Wipeout Bar & Grill, owned by Simco Restaurants in the Bon Air Center in Corte Madera. The family-friendly, surf-themed chain restaurant (there is another one in San Francisco) took over the space occupied by Chevy’s and served pizza and beer amidst multiple TV screens. The prime spot is ideal real estate for a restaurant—let’s hope they raise the bar a little with the next tenant—my visits there were disappointing at best.
MYSTERY ON SIR FRANCIS DRAKE
Ross Valley Kitchen in the Redhill Shopping Center in San Anselmo has also been closed for over a month. Though the food had great promise, it was clear from opening day that running a restaurant was new territory for the well-meaning owner and his staff. Calls to the shopping center business office in Novato have not been returned—so I have no updates on who will take over the space that Easy Street occupied for more years than I can remember.
MORE EQUATOR IN MILL VALLEY
If you live in Marin, you have likely enjoyed Equator Coffee in a restaurant, cafe or surf shop (yep—the coffee is sold out of Proof Lab at Tam Junction). Last month, owners Helen Russell and Brooke McDonnell opened Equator Coffees & Teas at 2 Miller Avenue. Now their many fans can enjoy their celebrated brew along with a waffle or a slice of quiche in the comfort of the new cafe in downtown Mill Valley. The almost 20-year-old San Rafael company now offers a full range of espresso drinks as well as a seasonal shandy, and a few renditions of the Shakerato—a classic brown sugar and cream shaken with espresso out of their own brick and mortar storefront. Housemade blueberry waffles, salads served in jars, quiche and yogurt parfaits are all on the menu at this new addition to downtown Mill Valley. Hours are Mon.-Fri., 6am-8pm and Sat.-Sun. 7am-8pm; www.equatorcoffees.com.
POP-UP PURVEYORS
Pop-up dining! Here is a great way to discover some of our talented Marin chefs, local purveyors, farmers and winemakers all in one place. Graze Local, a series of dinner events integrating our amazing and talented food producers and chefs will be collaborating on Sunday, Dec. 11, in Sausalito at 100 Spinnaker Drive from 6-10pm in the big tent on the waterfront (the wrap of the Sausalito Winterfest event). A few of the restaurants and producers that will be involved in this five-course meal include: Left Bank, Pig in a Pickle, chef Stephen Simmons from Lincoln Park and pastry chef/owner of Sugar Pie Baking Company, Jennifer Hirt. Appetizers will be provided by Cooper’s Public Market and will be paired with Pt. Reyes Farmstead, Gypsy Cheese Company and Rustic Bakery. Wines from Sera Fina Cellars will be served with each course. Tickets are $100 and are available at www.grazelocal.com.
Food insecurity continues to touch the lives of Marinites. The SF-Marin Food Bank reports that it’s distributing 13 percent more food this year than last year. Increasing the number of food pantries and greater reach into the community accounts for some of that increase, according to Paul Ash, executive director at the agency. But the increase also is a sign that more people this year than last year need some help meeting their food needs. Ash estimates that the increased number of people getting a boost from the pantries in Marin mirrors the 13 percent increase in the quantity of food distribution.ood insecurity continues to touch the lives of Marinites.
It’s hard to pin down exact numbers because the SF-Marin Food Bank hasn’t embarked on a comprehensive demographic study of its clients. But from anecdotal evidence, it’s clear that the need for food bank pantries has increased. “It continues to grow in Marin,” says Michelle Garcilazo, the SF-Marin Food Bank’s senior program coordinator for Marin.
The San Francisco Food Bank merged with the Marin Food Bank in 2011. Marin had been “underserved” by the previous incarnation of the food bank program, says Garcilazo. As the new merged entity became established in Marin, it “has become more visible,” Garcilazo adds. Along with its increased visibility, in part by increasing the number of food pantry outlets, the food bank also recognized “the need [of] becoming more visible.”
What Garcilazo refers to is the hidden nature of food insecurity and food need in Marin, a need and an insecurity quite different than in San Francisco. In the city, the food bank sees more homeless and precariously housed clients than in Marin. But that doesn’t mean that the need is inconsequential in Marin. In an affluent county like Marin, food insecurity and the need to visit food pantries often amounts to a hidden need that can carry with it a fair bit of stigma.
From anecdotal information, Ash says, the food bank “knows that a lot of our families have at least one working adult.” Garcilazo agrees: “We are seeing a lot of working families attending our food pantries.” The seemingly safe and affluent lifestyle in the county is resting on an often-precarious financial foundation for families who must meet high housing expenses, transportation costs and still have enough money to feed the family. Garcilazo says that the high cost of living in Marin forces families and individuals “to look at their budgets and see what they can and can’t afford.”
For many families in Marin that means a balancing act that can result in a struggle to meet food expenses. The SF-Marin Food Bank is trying to spread the word that its food pantries are more than an emergency outlet for clients to use in isolated incidents. That’s the impression—or the feeling—that many people have regarding how people should use food pantries. It’s an impression that the food bank works to dispel. “We’re not seeing the same faces at pantries every week,” Garcilazo says. That means that people who could use some extra food on an ongoing basis are reluctant to return. “We’re working to overcome that stigma. That’s a challenge in a county like Marin that’s perceived to be affluent.”
For many Marin families, paying those high housing costs and transportation expenses and other living costs results, Garcilazo says, in “people looking at their paychecks and saying, ‘Hey, I’m doing OK,’ but when it comes time to pay those expenses, people find themselves constantly in a hole.” Coming to the end of the week with insufficient food in the cupboards may seem antithetical to Marin living, but it’s the reality for many families. The SF-Marin Food Bank’s 230 pantries are set up to provide relief from that kind of food insecurity, which can be a crippling psychological burden that affects mental as well as physical health.
Garcilazo says that the need for the food pantries is easily quantifiable by looking at numbers compiled at the First 5 California program, which became reality after voters approved Proposition 10. The program recognizes the importance of health and education in the development of children, especially in their early years. First 5 California estimates that a family of four in Marin, with one child in elementary school and one pre-school-age child, needs $100,000 a year to comfortably meet expenses, including adequate food-healthy living.
The U.S. Census Bureau looked county by county at the number of people at or below 185 percent of the federal poverty level. The number of Marin residents at that income level in 2010 was 43,397, or about 17 percent of the county’s total population. In 2011, the number of residents at or below 185 percent of the federal poverty level had increased to 51,247, or 21 percent. The numbers show a clear indication that the Great Recession hit people hard on the lower rungs of the economic ladder.
According to the SF-Marin Food Bank, the organization estimates, “Marin County in particular has shown a dramatic increase in [food assistance] need. Looked at another way, since the recession hit, the food need in Marin has increased by 54 percent, the food bank estimates.
That 185 percent number is an important benchmark. The SF-Marin Food Bank sponsored a 2010 study with the Stanford Center for the Study of Poverty and Inequality. The study was updated in July 2012. Titled “Coping with Accelerating Food Needs in San Francisco and Marin,” the study notes that when people are at or below 185 percent of the federal poverty level, they are at risk of hunger and face food insecurity. People at that economic level, especially in affluent counties like Marin, routinely miss meals, according to the study.
Even with supplemental food programs from a variety of sources, Marin residents at or below the 185 percent income mark miss seven meals a week, according to the study. Despite benefits from CalFresh (formerly known as food stamps), school lunch programs and other government assistance, low-income and very low-income residents in Marin find that their food budgets just cannot stretch all the way through the week. When the boost to Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) funding that came as part of the federal stimulus push ended in November of 2013, and when Congress further cut funding for SNAP, it didn’t help families across the country stock their kitchen shelves.
The cuts to SNAP, along with increasing rents, are the two most significant causes in the increased need for food bank assistance in Marin, according to Ash. Last year, the SF-Marin Food Bank distributed more than 5.6 million pounds of food in Marin—enough for about 13,000 meals each day.
And according to the Stanford study that was updated in 2012, “From 2007 to 2010, the number of people in Marin falling under [the 185 percent poverty] threshold increased by 38 percent. At the same time, the percentage of meals that these people can provide for themselves dropped from 45.1 percent of total meals to 38.9 percent of total meals.” The report concludes that nonprofit food providers, including the SF-Marin Food Bank “helped reduce the unmet food need.”
The food bank locates its pantries using a three-part strategy. The first group of pantries is located in schools and provides meal assistance to families and children who qualify for free or reduced-cost lunches. The second group of pantries is just for seniors, part of the SF-Marin Food Bank’s brown bag program. The third group of pantries is for the general public. Those pantries are mostly located in nonprofit agencies. That creates a symbiotic relationship among service agencies.
When people go to a service agency, such as one at the community health campus in San Rafael, they may say they’re struggling to pay rent and need help with healthcare costs. Agency staff can suggest that if clients need help with healthcare, it’s likely they could use some help with food costs, and staff can refer them to a pantry. (Good nutrition is intrinsic to good health, and the food bank reaches out to the community to inform people about nutritional requirements and good diets.)
Garcilazo has a personal story that illustrates the benefits of an intertwined social service net: “I used to work at a school that had a pantry, and in one instance a parent was having a meeting with the school about her children. It happened to be on a Friday, the day of a pantry [at the school]. It turned out the parent had no food in her home. The principal of the school came over and asked us if we had any food. We were able to put together a bag for her.”
About 24 percent of the people the SF-Marin Food Bank serves are children; another 27 percent are seniors, according to Ash, who notes that it’s relatively easy to raise funds and gather donations during the holiday season. The rest of year, it’s not such a simple task. During the holidays, he says, “We have to bank a little bit of money that allows us to operate in February and March and the rest of the year.” The SF-Marin Food Bank has a targeted fundraising drive around Mother’s Day. It also reaches out to specific groups, such as the legal community. That fundraising effort takes place in the late spring. The fundraising after the holidays and throughout the year is aimed at gathering enough resources to carry through to the next holiday season, when, Ash says, “you don’t have to push the reasons” for giving. At the end of the year, tax implications motivate people to make contributions, in addition to the traditional “season of sharing.”
Tax implications also play a role in one of the biggest successes of the food bank. About 14 years ago, it started gathering fresh produce from Central Valley farmers to distribute at pantries. Today, 40 to 60 percent of the food available at the pantries is fresh produce. The SF-Marin Food Bank employs retired workers in the agricultural industry to make the deals that result in a flow of fresh produce to the pantries. The food bank pays between about 7 cents and 15 cents a pound for produce that otherwise would be thrown away or ploughed under. The agricultural industry donators receive a tax break.
The food collected from the farms often is indistinguishable from food on store shelves, Ash says. Sometimes there are minor blemishes. Oranges, for instance, must pass strict USDA standards of size and complexion before they’re allowed on the market. Oranges that are a bit too big or those that have color blemishes get rejected. But the food bank is happy to take them at a deep discount.
Crops such as broccoli and cauliflower are some of the more expensive items on the food bank’s produce shopping list, but even there, the cost to the food bank is almost beyond reasonable. When farmers plant the crops in the Monterey area, for instance, they plan months ahead of the harvest. Market forces can reduce the profit margin for the farm between planting and harvesting. Rather than pay workers to pick and pack the entire crop, farms sometimes plough under a portion of the plants. The SF-Marin Food Bank steps in and pays the cost of harvesting and packing in exchange for a deep discount on the crops. That’s how the pantries can have a variety of fresh produce.
“I think at the end of the day,” Ash says, “farmers don’t like to throw away food. They would rather donate it or sell it for a small fee.”
Contact the writer at pe***@ps******.com. To locate a food pantry, call 211.
Courage, like beauty, can be said to be in the eye of the beholder, but the strength of artist Matt Tasley is belied by his tall, slender, slight frame. In fact, the pain he faces isn’t visible at all. Subsequent to being diagnosed with schizophrenia in 2001, Tasley began a 12-step program for recovering alcoholics, and is now 13 years sober.
“It’s kind of a chicken-or-the-egg situation,” Tasley says of the uncertainty surrounding the origins of his mental illness.
In combination with medication, Tasley manages his disease and disorder through oil painting. “It gets me through the ups and downs,” he says. He speaks in tones and shades with broad strokes of meaning—some thicker than others—forming a layered impression. The art of his conversation paints a portrait not of himself, but rather about something of himself. To know him is to understand him, a real piece of work that has to be felt before he can be seen for what he really is.
“I was born an artist,” Tasley says. He was also actually born to an artist—his mother was a photographer who encouraged Tasley from a young age to make art inspired by his childhood visits to WildCare in Albert’s Park. Tasley credits his artistic ability to his mother, his ability to make art to his father—a restaurateur who financially supported his art career—and lastly, Tasley adds, “I owe a lot of my creative talent to my education.”
However, as an undergrad at Maine’s renowned private liberal arts school Bowdoin College, Tasley was initially studying economics and later changed to environmental studies, before eventually settling on art.
“I had loved art since kindergarten, but had only taken one art class in high school,” Tasley says. “I hadn’t been trained before, but I caught on really quick.” Tasley went on to earn a master’s in fine arts from the University of California, Santa Barbara. After graduating, Tasley opened two galleries on Polk and Hayes streets in San Francisco—which have since closed—and currently makes art out of his studio in Greenbrae.
Tasley says he’s never painted while under the influence of drugs, nor while inebriated, likening the painting process to meditation that “brings you peace of mind and serenity.”
“When I make a painting,” Tasley explains, “I’m able to get out of my head of confused thoughts and focus on something for three hours at a time.”
Ironically, much of what Tasley paints are landscapes reimagined in his mind that he recalls from memory. Besides the natural environment, Tasley is also inspired by his favorite artist, Van Gogh, who he simply describes as “a troubled man,” and remembers seeing his artwork for the first time while walking through a museum in Europe.
“His paintings were alive, and evoked a feeling that I could relate to,” Tasley says.
For Tasley, seeing how Impressionist painter Van Gogh found beauty “in the dark times” has influenced his own artistic practice. In summarizing his work, he says, “I like capturing a sense of light.”
Born at Marin General in 1960, Tasley is a Marin native. He lived in Ross for most of his life (attended Branson high school), and was named the artist-in-residence at the Fairfax Pavilion this past year. Currently he resides in West Marin. Among all of the places that Tasley has called home, it is his one-year stay at the Buckelew Program that has perhaps proven to be his most formative.
Founded in 1971, Buckelew was Marin’s first community-based 24-hour facility serving local residents with a mental illness. After transitioning out of Buckelew, Tasley felt compelled to “give back what I received.” As a so-called peer, Tasley teaches free painting classes to Buckelew clients out of his studio—personally transporting students himself—as well as to the Buckelew Program’s Transitional Age Youth (TAY) program.
“It’s very helpful to have some sort of creative passion as a means of recovery,” Tasley says. “That’s why I like sharing my skills through teaching.” It’s Tasley’s continued work at Buckelew that earned him the nomination as the Pacific Sun’s Heroes of Marin Courage award recipient.
With 10 years of volunteer service to his name, which consists of working with Community Action Marin and the Pickleweed Park Community Center, in addition to the Buckelew MarinScapes program, Tasley also sits on the Board of Directors for the National Alliance on Mental Illness. Believing that art as a form of mental health treatment fosters solidarity, Tasley offers the same advice to all aspiring artists: “Go to school and don’t let anyone discourage you.”
“The joy in expressing yourself and creating and sharing with others breaks the stigma and isolation that come along with mental illness and chemical dependency,” Tasley says. The power of art not only forges an alliance between communities, but is also a “useful tool in helping people to better understand themselves and cope with their diagnosis.”
As a living example of how art heals, Tasley represents the resilience of someone who defies what his past expects of him and subsequently, his artwork represents the fortitude of the human spirit. “Keep it simple,” Tasley says, “that’s my life motto.”
Hero FYI
Matt enjoys camping at Samuel P. Taylor State Park.
His hobbies include being in the outdoors, hiking, bicycling and swimming.
His two biggest passions are teaching and making art.
On Friday, Dec. 12 the 1108 Gallery, located on Tamalpais Avenue in downtown San Rafael, will be hosting an opening reception for the exhibition of a retrospective of Tasley’s work. Art sales will support the gallery, which hosts a monthly show of artworks exclusively created by members of the Transitional Age Youth Program of Community Action Marin. Tasley’s work will be on display until the closing reception on Friday, Jan. 2. For more information, visit www.buckelew.org, and you can see more of Matt’s work by searching his name on Flickr.
The farmer rises while the sky is still inky black and the cool misty air is heavy with dew. The morning sun prepares to peer over the coastal hills of Point Reyes Station. Neighbors shuttle their children to soccer games or off to school or simply sleep in. The farmer’s children dutifully waken on their own at 6am. Their instructions on this brisk and busy autumn morning are brief and direct: “Hurry up. Get dressed and find yourself some breakfast.”
Next the farmer ushers Sassy, the pony, out from her stall for some morning grazing, all the while making sure the ranch’s working dogs have water sufficient for the day before collecting 5 gallons of dew runoff from a large nearby barn to water the drought-thirsty flowers edging a bountiful garden. Next, it’s off to the milk barn to check in with the dairy farm employees to see if any health issues have arisen overnight or if any new baby calves were born. On this particular day, the farmer is getting the tractor and truck ready to move the seed and seeder from Point Reyes to Marshall before any tourists begin driving on Highway 1. Fifty-pound sacks of seeds are loaded, as well as flags and the OVERSIZED sign. The truck begins the steady haul with two sleepy kids in the back seat, leading the tractor up the road.
“I usually start with a glass of milk for breakfast as that is all time allows,” says Karen Bianchini Taylor, sixth-generation dairywoman and owner/operator of Bivalve Dairy in Point Reyes Station.
The iconic and celebrated image of the American farmer is that of a weather-worn male wearing dusty overalls in front of a tall red barn with pitchfork in hand, talking about the latest storm, the price of beef and his struggling corn crop. Think “Old MacDonald.” Many of us still hold that image dearly. However, for far too long, Old Mac’s wife has played second fiddle, though she, too, lived and worked a hard life.
But … drum roll, please … we’re ready now for the ladies to rock! Today, strong, capable and fearless farmwomen are beginning to be acknowledged with, or without, the rugged farmer guy by their side. It’s the ladies’ turn to stand in the moonlit shine. In fact, researchers at the University of Iowa estimate that more than 200 million acres of farmland in the United States will change hands by 2027, with women potentially owning a majority of the land.
Well, fasten your seatbelts, my friends, cuz were going old school, baby! I’m talking Neolithic. Back during the Neolithic era, roughly 12,000 years ago, while men were out hunting and protecting, women worked the nearby ‘hood. With babies wrapped in their arms or carried on their backs, they collected seeds and foraged plants, thus ensuring a steady food supply for their village. Today, in the United States alone there are nearly one million female farmers and ranchers. Some of these women choose to be farmers. Others are thrust into farming by having outlived their fathers or husbands. With that, they inherit the stewardship and responsibility of working and managing the land entrusted to their family for generations.
Yesterday’s Farmer Jack is today’s Farmer Jane. Same job, different face.
Christine and Don Scioli of Zan Media in Marin County are presently in production on their documentary entitled, Golden Girls: Cultivating an Amazing Life. The upcoming film will feature farmwomen throughout California and highlight the critically important and underrepresented work they have been doing on their family farms to feed the American public. Their stories will convey the universal themes of the contemporary farmer or rancher: It is a hard, but rewarding life—a life worth celebrating in complete harmony with all living things. Similar to independent family farms, Zan Media is a family-run film operation. The Sciolis have been working together for the past 34 years, and are now joined by daughters Niki and Alexandra helping out the production team. They farm a small piece of land organically in Marin.
“Women are leaving the traditional workforce in record numbers and are heading to farms and ranches all over the world,” Christine Scioli says. “Many of these are not the female farmers of past generations. They are educated professionals who have switched career paths to embrace the growing trend of conscientious, local agribusiness. They are wives, mothers, daughters, artists, authors, lawyers, political leaders and businesswomen. They stand on equal footing with the land as they look to the first quarter of the 21st century as the watershed for responsible agriculture.”
Who are these women who are slowly breaking the grass ceiling in agriculture, a historically male-dominated industry? Some are independent farmers, some have supporting roles, some work off the farm at another job so they can have health insurance for their families, and some have come to farming later, as a second career. They all share a love for their families and a love of the land.
“In past generations it seemed like female farmers weren’t engaged in engineering and economic concerns but in fact, they were; they just didn’t know it,” Don Scioli says. “How to make the family farm profitable with the least amount of toil while simultaneously protecting the soil was always job No. 1. While the new female farmers and the ones from past generations may differ in method, their passion is the same.”
The filmmakers have cast the ideal host for their film: Nicolette Hahn Niman, author of Righteous Porkchop: Finding a Life and Good Food Beyond Factory Farms and Defending Beef: The Case for Sustainable Meat Production. She is an environmental attorney/advocate, wife, mother, writer and morally responsible cattle rancher.
“For me, women have a very special role in agriculture. Increasingly consumers are looking for foods that are raised in a healthy way, that treat animals with respect and that are also safe for the environment,” Hahn Niman says. “There’s a huge role for us to be playing in agriculture. And today there are more and more women running farms so I am excited about the showcasing of women farmers in the Golden Girls film.”
Nicolette Hahn Niman hard at work.
In 2000, Bobby Kennedy, Jr. tapped Hahn Niman to work for Waterkeeper Alliance in New York City. While working on various environmental cases she met conscientious cattle rancher Bill Niman and moved across the country to the ranch he had built in Marin County. They raise grass-fed cows and heritage turkeys with their two children.
“We had heard of Nicolette. We went to Niman Ranch in Bolinas and fell in love with the whole enchilada—and that was that,” Chris Scioli says. “Her knowledge on the core issues is vast; her personal stories of marrying an “older man,” who is Jewish, while she is Christian, moving from New York City to a ranch on the edge of the ocean, becoming a vegetarian cattle rancher and mother of two little boys—it’s all great stuff.”
“Women farmers are our heroes of today,” writes Bay Area author Temra Costa, in her book, Farmer Jane: Women Changing the Way We Eat. “They are becoming the fastest growing number of diversified farmers in the country. They control the majority of household spending. They dominate nonprofits dedicated to shifting the balance from conventional to sustainable foods, and they continue to create innovative businesses that reflect their socio-environmental values.” These visionary farmwomen see the dire urgency and necessity of saving a broken food system. The last century has been characterized by the onslaught of industrialized factory farms. According to the U.S. Department of Agriculture, the number of family farms in the United States has fallen from 6.8 million in 1935 to roughly 2 million today. About a dozen corporations now control most of the food we eat, and, the U.S. is now rated No. 1 globally in childhood obesity. Any correlation? You decide, Sherlock.
Ready to digest some more? Presently, agricultural chemicals account for two-thirds of all water pollution in the U.S. A conservative estimate of pesticide use in American agriculture is 1.2 billion pounds per year. That’s about 4 pounds of chemicals for every American man, woman and child. And, don’t even get me started on G.M.O.’s …
If our food system hadn’t been so robbed of nutrients and polluted with toxic chemicals maybe women wouldn’t have to be so involved. Aren’t we busy enough? OK, just put that on our list of mom crap to get done!
To-do list: Monday morning:
1. Find real food for kid’s lunchbox.
2. Go to work.
3. Rehaul American agriculture (In spare time?)
*****
Originally, the filmmakers were going to create a project that would feature female gardeners. Their working title was Dirt Divas. “We’ve produced two wine-related documentaries: A State of Vine and A Passion for the Vine, and numerous tasting room videos, all of which led us to learn more about vintners and their intimate connection to their terroir,” Chris Scioli says. “The women had very engaging, personal stories and were keen to share them. As we did more research and met more females involved in the bountiful potential of the dirt beneath our feet, we meandered as we saw a larger picture emerge—women as farmers and ranchers, cheese-makers and chefs—all providing a female perspective to the food chain. Fertile land demands to be nurtured, and therefore the most basic connection becomes apparent.”
They were also motivated to create this documentary while working on a different film production at a dinosaur dig on the Standing Rock Sioux Reservation. “We realized we hadn’t seen any crops for hundreds of miles. Next we traveled to several national parks in Utah and Arizona and likewise, no farms or ranches nearby. At the Grand Staircase-Escalante, for example, there are 2.2 million acres of land, largely devoid of food or cattle. By contrast, here in Marin, we live side-by-side with all sorts of fantastic farms of every size and product,” Don Scioli said. “This was the first thing we noticed moving here from suburban Philadelphia, over 30 years ago. In both cases our home-base was about 22 miles from a large city but what a difference in terrain!”
By documenting California’s growing breed of female farmers, the filmmakers hope to highlight the accomplishments of women in agriculture as well as energize the next generation of women working the land. “By infusing photographs of women farmers into the ‘image’ of agriculture, the perception of a farmer will eventually start to change,” says Iowa photographer, Marji Guyler-Alaniz, founder of www.farmher.com. “It’s time for that role to shine. When people see an image or idea regularly, they come to believe that it is the way things actually are. By changing perceptions you break down barriers. More resources become available to these women. More young women will see the positives in pursuing a career in agriculture.”
Marin farmer, Anna Hancock, with a friend.
According to Diane Ullman, associate dean for undergraduate academic programs at UC Davis, 71 percent of this year’s freshman class in the College of Agricultural and Environmental Sciences, is female. Many are interested in sustainability and tend to graduate and run smaller, more specialized farms, selling heirloom tomatoes or grass-fed beef to eco-conscious consumers.
“We all have a role to play in caring for the precious resources on this planet and an opportunity to doing something for the public good,” says Amy Ridout, farm coordinator and cultivator of future of farmers at Indian Valley Organic Farm and Garden in Novato. “Food is one of the basic necessities of life, and it’s a basic human right to have access to healthy food.”
Feel the same way? Have a farmwoman to highlight? Then come on down to the farm! Don and Chris Scioli want you. They’re still in production and seeking Golden Girls to be interviewed. You can contact them at www.goldengirlsfilm.com.
When you speak of “a culture,” it can be the behavior of a given society, or of a group of societies, or of a certain area, or of a certain period of time.—Margaret Mead
The Bay Area has long been a go-to haven for mountain biking enthusiasts.
And soon, biking aficionados—or the speckled-faced constituency known as fatheads, klunker riders and bikies—will have a formal way to pay tribute to the beloved outdoor sport. Scheduled to open this fall at an upcycled building at the foot of Mount Tamalpais is the Marin Museum of Bicycling (MMB) and Mountain Bike Hall of Fame, which is being relocated from its longtime home in Crested Butte, Colo.
The MMB, a nonprofit organization that aims to educate the public about the history of bicycling and encourage biking culture, will occupy the former location of Good Earth Natural Foods at 1966 Sir Francis Drake Boulevard in Fairfax—widely regarded as the birthplace of mountain biking. Plans for regular happenings perfect for bicycling fans are in the works and will include lectures, movies and live TV coverage of cycling events in a 12-person screening room. A main hall in the museum that will seat up to 90 people will serve as a meeting place for bicycle clubs and will feature a zone for skills- and shrediquette-training, while long-term plans include a garden, shower and bike wash, among other amenities.
*****
The people behind the MMB range from Don and Kay Cook, who directed the original Mountain Bike Hall of Fame in Crested Butte, Colo., to Joe Breeze, bike builder and historian, to bike pioneers Otis Guy and Marc Vendetti, to Mark Squire, building owner and partner at Good Earth Natural Foods. A community of dedicated bicycle advocates has also been involved.
Larry Galetti, a former Food Villa greengrocer, came of age in San Anselmo during the uncrowded postwar era of the 1980s. Galetti recalls how his extremely hard working (as in seven days a week) stock boy, Al Baylocq, spent a majority of his growing years at the Food Villa. When Galetti was ready to retire, he promised the Villa to Baylocq, who was seeking to partner with others in the opening of Good Earth. When the customer base outgrew the building in 2012, the store moved to the huge lot in the center of Fairfax. Chris Lang, Fairfax commissioner and bike promoter, connected the dots and got Mark Squire together with the MMB team.
A snapshot of the former Big Bear Market, which was located at the MBB’s future location of 1966 Sir Francis Drake Ave.
With the help of Lang, the MMB team found the former Good Earth location to be promising for the future museum. Morgan Hall, a Fairfax-based architect, wanted to return the building to its midcentury roots by creating a strong, horizontal element and exposing the beautiful bowstring truss construction. Hall partnered with Joe Breeze, a Marin-based bicycling legend in his own right, to collaborate on the building’s spatial elements. He attributes many of the building’s intricacies to Breeze’s attention to detail. “Working with Joe has been a joy,” Hall says. “He has such a good spatial eye, and his tolerances are … well, he works with metal so they’re in the thousandths of an inch. Me, I’m a broad brush-stroke kind of guy.”
To many, the museum’s opening is more than a new addition to what has long been an enthusiastic biking community—it’s a culmination of many events that highlight the Bay Area’s connection between sport, art and the landscape.
In 1998, San Francisco’s Yerba Buena Center for the Arts, in collaboration with the SF Bicycle Coalition, sponsored a broad-scoped art show on bicycle cultures highlighting the history of mountain biking and displaying low rider bikes, art bikes and performance pieces. Many say the exhibit lit a slow fuse for bike culture that’s been sparkling ever since.
Momentum for fostering a biking culture grew from July of 2012 to February of 2013, when thousands of international travelers and bikers enjoyed the SFO Museum’s exhibit, “Repack to Rwanda: The Origins, Evolution and Global Reach of the Mountain Bike.” Often viewed as history in the making, the exhibit helped to unite the bicycle community—while setting a high standard for near-future scholarships and exhibitions.
In 2012, SFO Museum Curator Tim O’Brien realized that there had not yet been an exhibition that focused specifically on the role Marin County frame builders and riders played in bicycle design evolution. Joe Breeze, best known as the designer-builder of the first successful modern mountain bikes, created the first all-new bikes made with rugged frames specifically for mountain biking in the late 1970s.
“We quickly recognized Joe’s critical role in this early history, his steady involvement in the industry, the greater issues surrounding bicycling and his personal connection to so many people whose cooperation we were seeking,” O’Brien says. Having already been invited to contribute to Santa Clara University’s De Saisset Museum, Breeze was ready to commit more time and energy to exhibiting bicycle history.
Determined to avoid succumbing to the pressures many museums face today, O’Brien sought alternatives. “These are unsettled times for museums. The DeYoung and the Asian Art Museum have to push turnstiles,” O’Brien says. “Free from that pressure, our mission is to tell the truth and inspire others to learn more.”
In the spirit of no-waste, O’Brien donated the exhibit’s specially built panels, photographs and other valuable materials to Breeze and the MMB.
Breeze’s love of all-things-bicycling started early in his hometown of Mill Valley. As a child, he was sure that the mountain in his backyard was the “highest mountain in the world.” The magnificent presence of Mount Tamalpais—Marin’s original tourist attraction—and its green slopes has shaped his life indelibly. He roamed not just the county, but much of California by bike, at a time when few people rode bicycles at all.
Breeze was a road-racer on the weekend, but during the week he rode with a posse of free-spirits who sported no race numbers or uniforms. They roamed the yellow hills during long summers, astride clunky relics in search of fun and a little adventure away from the suburbs.
If you told Breeze or one of those denim-and-flannel-clad bikies that someday mountain biking, or the “world’s smallest sport,” would be an Olympic sport, a high school team activity or the inspiration for national transit policies, they would have wondered what planet you came from. While mountain biking started to leave a trail in the sporting industry, the organic food movement was picking up momentum. Good Earth sprouted up in 1969 and set itself apart from regular grocery stores—it was where you shopped if you really cared about what went into your body. Serious coin was spent on food and bicycles, being issues of the most pressing sort.
Always looking at the big picture, Breeze regarded bicycles as capable of influencing politics and, ultimately, saving the planet. In 1994 as the U.S. Army vacated San Francisco’s Presidio District, opening spaces for nonprofit organizations, Breeze and MMB partners envisioned and spearheaded a permanent exhibit to excite the kids of the future about bicycle culture. Breeze imagined a bicycle history corner at the Thoreau Center for Sustainability. He contacted Don and Kay Cook at the Mountain Bike Hall of Fame.
The Mountain Bike Hall of Fame arose from businesspeople brainstorming in the summer of 1988. The Hall of Fame, which inducted mostly California riders at first, had as much to do with tourism as it did with preserving the memory of the sport’s earliest days. In a town of roughly 800 full-time residents, an influx of avid cyclists—especially in the slow season of autumn—means money. Induction ceremonies moved from Colorado to the annual bicycle dealer trade show to accommodate even more attendees. Inevitably, the industry titans who sponsored the Hall of Fame were enshrined; thus the world’s smallest sport became a tributary to the created cult of celebrity.
In the early 90s, around the country, federal funding for non-motorized transportation—mainly identified as the Intermodal Surface Transportation Efficiency Act (ISTEA), among other refreshing acronyms—swelled the coffers of many regional bicycle coalitions. The collective energies of their members resulted in greater numbers of riders on the road, including kids. Dan Freeman, a history teacher at Sir Francis Drake High School, coached Marin’s first high school mountain bike team, and 15 years later all of the high schools in the county have a mountain bike team.
And in 2012, with a space in mind, Breeze had his eye on moving the Hall of Fame and its historical memorabilia out to California. Breeze summoned his old friends Marc Vendetti, a former racer, businessman and philanthropist; Otis Guy, a local fireman, and early mountain biker/builder; Julia Violich, businesswoman and masters category racer and lawyer Keith Hastings to the team. The horde of bikies hammered out details for six months in the summer of 2013. Mark Squire shook hands last year to seal the lease—committing to a project that would house the famed Igler collection (30 bicycles from the beginning to the most recent of the bicycle era) as well as display cases, exhibit windows, bookshelves and, of course, docents and acolytes of the fundraising, culture maven ilk. Contributors to the two-wheeled world are named and honored, their feats described and their artifacts preserved.
*****
Marin County is both the spirit home of the human-powered bicycle and the place where its adherents, despite heroic efforts, had little to no political traction. It is no longer a hidden gem, but a global tourist destination conveniently close to San Francisco.
And decades later beyond our county lines, the world caught the fat tire bug. Global production soared through the 1980s and 1990s as the industry realized: People could have more than one bicycle. This “fad” rescued the flattish-bicycle industry after the 1970s sting-ray and 10-speed boom. Trail prohibitions and inflammatory press coverage generated friction and a sensationalized trail war. A parade of journalists from The New York Times, the L.A. Times and countless European and Japanese bicycle magazines, rolled through impressed by the beautiful terrain and astonished by the grim faces of the bike-loathers. The journalists’ stories noted the incongruousness of “mellow” Marin’s cool regard of cyclists on the trail. But at the time, Marin wasn’t yet your typical tourist destination; and sharing was a new concept.
A new generation of bike-friendly policymakers, 30 years and a global climate shift have silenced the chorus of obstructive land managers and officials, who insisted that mountain bikes were ruining the tranquil outdoor experience. County residents continued to simply ride the bikes, and let the cares of a contentious, traffic-bound county slide off them with every revolution of the bear-trap pedal.
At times collaboration seemed unlikely until common goals, federal funding and expanding enfranchisement brought bicyclists into the negotiating rooms. Three decades later, Marin’s bicycle family has matured with the tincture of time. The Marin County Bicycle Coalition was founded precisely to educate this very mercurial and “skiddish” constituency. Years of lobbying, advocating, showing up and never giving up the mission of safer two-wheel transit paid dividends.
The roads are still jammed with cars and irritable, distracted motorists, but the roads have lanes being shared by thousands upon thousands of both residents and visitors.
The stampede into the county’s greensward can only grow. Farsighted Marinites preserved an impressive amount of public land, and, where once the bicyclists were coolly received, a slight thaw is taking place. Stafford Lake Bike Park—the proposed 17-acre bike park slated to include a single-track loop trail, gravity-fed flow trails with jumps and beams, several pump tracks and north shore style elevated trails—would take pressure off southern Marin fire roads.
Future generations of Marinites will remain young in the saddle. Perhaps, if we are good, there will be some narrow trails opened on Mount Tamalpais. Or all the trails will be open on certain weekdays. Anything is possible.
No car can touch what bicycles deliver on many different levels: the joy, the clean air, the clear head, the strong legs, the healthy lungs and the fascinating, translucent, black Lycra shorts—sorry.
Our love affair with the car is dying, and the romance of modernity’s first love, the bicycle, is gearing back up in its Golden Age.
COMING SOON
The two-wheeler’s cultural center, the Marin Museum of Bicycling, will open before the rainy season this year. As a membership- and fund-driven entity, the MMB will be creating history for the foreseeable future.
NOW READING
Recently released by two professors at MIT is Bicycle Design An Illustrated History by Tony Hadland and Hans-Erhard Lessing. It’s a dense, rich and very readable text made up of 576 pages and 300 accompanying illustrations. Needless to say, most of the Marin inventors like Charlie Cunningham, Joe Breeze, etc. are cited.
Due out in September of 2014 is the memoir Fat Tire Flyer by Charlie Kelly. After a 30-year hiatus, Kelly is back on the trail and ready to recharge his wild biking roots as a much-overlooked biking pioneer.
Robin Williams, the former Redwood High School student, Juilliard-trained and Oscar-winning actor, was found dead Aug. 11 at his home in Tiburon.
At a press conference held Aug. 12 at the Marin County’s Sheriff’s Office, Lt. Keith Boyd, assistant chief deputy coroner, said that according to the Aug. 12 autopsy results, the preliminary cause of death suggests that Williams died of asphyxiation due to hanging. Williams was 63.
Members of the press listen while Lt. Boyd gives his statement. Photo by Molly Oleson.
Authorities received a 911 call at around 11:55am on Aug. 11 from a “distraught” caller who reported a male adult unconscious and not breathing in Williams’ residence in Tiburon.
The Sheriff’s Office, Tiburon Fire Department and Southern Marin Fire Protection District responded to the incident and emergency personnel arrived on the scene at 12pm. Firefighters from the Tiburon Fire Department identified Williams and pronounced him dead at 12:02pm.
Preliminary information from the ongoing investigation revealed that Williams had been seeking treatment for depression.
According to Lt. Boyd’s statement, Williams was last seen alive at 10:30pm on Aug. 10 by his wife, Susan Schneider, when she retired for the evening. It is unknown at what time Williams retired to a separate room from Schneider. On Aug. 11 Schneider left the house around 10:30am, assuming Williams to still be asleep. Williams’ personal assistant became concerned at around 11:45am, when Williams failed to respond to knocks on his bedroom door.
The Marin County Sheriff’s Office released Lt. Boyd’s statement on their website. The statement reveals graphic details of Williams’ death and discusses evidence at the residence that requires scientific testing to evaluate its “investigative value.” When asked by the media if Williams had left behind a suicide note, Lt. Boyd said that the Sheriff’s Office would not discuss a note.
The autopsy was conducted at the Napa County Sheriff’s Office Morgue by the Coroner Division. Marin County Sheriff’s Office has an independent contract with Monte’s Chapel of the Hills to conduct autopsies in the county, but due to government regulations and for security reasons, the autopsy was conducted in Napa. The forensic examination was performed by Dr. Joseph Cohen, the Sheriff’s Office chief forensic pathologist. According to Dr. Cohen, there were no findings indicating that Williams had been in a struggle or a physical altercation prior to him being located and identified as deceased.
Lt. Boyd answering questions from the media at the Aug. 12 press conference. Photo by Molly Oleson.
Williams, a recovering alcoholic, had recently checked into rehab, according to news reports. He also had a heart valve operation in 2009. Information about his health and any chemical substances that may have been in his system prior to his death will be available after the toxicology report is completed within the next two to six weeks.
“Please note this is an active investigation into the cause, manner and circumstances of Mr. Williams’ death,” Lt. Boyd said. “The final cause and manner of death will not be certified until the conclusion of the investigation, which is several weeks away.” A second press conference will be held in the following weeks pending results of the toxicology testing.
Williams was born in Chicago and spent his formative years in Michigan until the family moved to Woodacre in Marin County. He graduated from Redwood High School in 1969 and attended College of Marin. He is survived by his wife Susan Schneider and his three children, Zachary Pym Williams, Zelda Rae Williams and Cody Allan Williams.
Mara Buxbaum, Williams’ publicist told the Hollywood Reporter in a statement on Aug. 11 that Williams had recently been battling depression. “This is a tragic and sudden loss. The family respectfully asks for their privacy as they grieve during this very difficult time.”
Why more Marinites are opting out of childhood vaccines-and what it means for the rest of us
by Jacob Shafer
First, a confession: When my editor asked if I wanted to write a story about vaccines, my initial reaction was, “Um … not really.”
Sure—it’s an interesting topic, hot button as they come. And it’s guaranteed to generate feedback, which is what we writers are supposed to covet. But when I thought about diving into this particular debate, I felt like a kid in oversized swimming trunks teetering on the edge of the deep end, staring at the swirling water below.
Last month I wrote a column in this paper about vaccine opt-outs. According to the California Department of Public Health, some 8 percent of school-age children in Marin don’t have all, or any, of their shots. That’s almost four times the state average and more than any other Bay Area county. The column was succinct and, I thought, not terribly inflammatory. The feedback, though, came fast and furious. Vaccine skeptics (anti-vaxxers, to use the pejorative) penned angry letters; a local pediatrician weighed in with a point-by-point defense. And, naturally, my editor inquired about a follow-up. So here I am, taking the plunge.
Both of my sons got all their shots. I have no regrets. They’re healthy, happy and free of vaccine-preventable illnesses. I believe in the science of inoculation. I say all this up front because I don’t want to be accused of concealing my stance, which aligns with the American Medical Association, American Academy of Pediatrics, Centers for Disease Control (CDC) and a host of peer-reviewed studies that confirm the safety and efficacy of vaccines.
And yet I know people—educated, well-intentioned people—who swear vaccines are unnecessary or, worse, ineffective and harmful. They ignore the advice of doctors and shrug off warnings that eradicated diseases could come roaring back. They’re doing what’s best for their children, they insist, and the law is on their side.
They aren’t wrong—but does that make them right?
In 2013, there were 173 Marin-based cases of whooping cough, a highly contagious respiratory illness that kills nearly 300,000 people every year worldwide. That’s about 68 cases for every 100,000 Marinites, the second-highest rate in California. Health officials draw a straight line between that and the county’s high vaccine opt-out rate, which makes sense … if you believe the whooping cough vaccine protects against whooping cough.
Not everyone does. Dr. Donald Harte, a Corte Madera chiropractor and outspoken vaccine critic, doesn’t mince words: “It’s biological common sense—you don’t put poisons in a human being, and you certainly don’t put poisons in a child, to get them healthy,” he says. “And the fact is there are poisons, specific neurotoxins, in every vaccine.”
Those neurotoxins, he argues, are responsible for a range of childhood maladies, from autism to allergies to Type 1 diabetes. Like other vaccine opponents, Dr. Harte insists that diseases like polio and measles would have simply gone away on their own as part of a natural cycle. “Vaccine lovers,” as he calls them, confuse correlation with causation. They’ve swallowed the poison along with the lie. “I call it the PMG complex—the Pharmaceutical, Medical, Governmental complex. They’re all playing with each other to garner more money and more power, and to hell with peoples’ health.”
Dr. Harte stops short of implicating individual doctors (though he does call pediatrics “the most dangerous of all the medical specialties”). “I think your average pediatrician or your average medical doctor is a good guy or gal, out there trying to do good,” he says. “I’m not saying they have any evil intent. I’m saying scientifically, they’re wrong.”
Ultimately, he argues, it’s a question of freedom. “I believe in liberty. I think people should have a right to do what they want with their kids, to have a choice.”
On the other side, some pediatricians are making a choice—the choice not to treat unvaccinated kids. Tamalpais Pediatrics, which has offices in Greenbrae and Novato, requires all patients age 2 and up to get the MMR (Measles, Mumps, Rubella) vaccine. “We have a responsibility to protect the health of all of the children in our practice, and decrease the risk of vaccine-preventable diseases,” Dr. Nelson Branco wrote in a blog post last year, explaining the policy. “We … feel strongly that vaccines save lives and that this policy protects our patients and our community from a preventable disease and all of its repercussions.”
It’s not only doctors who are worried. “I think it’s a public health emergency,” says Jeff Gizmek of San Anselmo, a father of two (fully vaccinated) daughters. Gizmek says he and his wife “were a little hesitant” with their first child and staggered the shots. By the time kid number two came around they had “wised up,” and switched to a vaccine-mandatory pediatrician. “When you are in a waiting room with six coughing children, it’s a great comfort to know that at least they are all [vaccinated] for pertussis,” he says.
Gizmek blames Marin’s high opt-out rate on the alternative medicine “woo-woo factor” and wealthy people “who think they are smarter than their own doctor” and send their children to private schools stocked with unvaccinated kids.
Specifically he mentions Sausalito’s New Village School, where only 5 percent of incoming kindergartners were fully vaccinated last year. (Contrast that with Novato’s Hamilton Elementary and its 97 percent vaccination rate.) Asked to comment, New Village emailed that vaccine opt-outs are “not a school theme.”
The concept of vaccination—using a small dose of a pathogen to kickstart the immune system and bolster its defenses—has been around for a long time. Crude forms of the smallpox vaccine were used in 17th century China, and there are references to inoculation dating back as far as 1000 B.C. French microbiologist Louis Pasteur refined the practice in the latter half of the 1800s, and in the next century vaccines would beat back an array of public health scourges: measles, smallpox, polio.
But, like the killer in a bad slasher movie, there’s no guarantee they’ll stay gone. For a vaccine to be effective, most people—usually about 85 percent of the population—have to get their shots. Some people can’t be vaccinated, either because of age or immune deficiency. Add a growing number of opt-outs and, health officials warn, we could be flirting with disaster.
Under California law, parents can refuse vaccines for their children, and send them to school, simply by signing a “personal beliefs” exemption form. A new rule requires the signature of a doctor who has “provided information to the parent or guardian regarding the benefits and risks of immunization.”
There are risks. Most side effects are mild, according to the CDC, and subside quickly. Cold and flu-like symptoms are common, while rarer, more serious reactions have been reported, including inflammation of the digestive tract, bloody urine and stool and pneumonia. (CDC says it’s unclear whether these were caused by the vaccines or not.)
What about autism? Proponents of the vaccine-autism link usually point to a 1998 study by Dr. Andrew Wakefield. The study has since been retracted and was branded an “elaborate fraud” by the British Medical Journal in 2011. (At the time, Wakefield, who lost his license, told CNN he was the victim of a “ruthless, pragmatic attempt to crush any attempt to investigate valid vaccine safety concerns.”)
Dr. Harte says there’s a simple explanation for the lack of credible studies linking autism and other illnesses with vaccines: Nobody will fund them. “These studies take millions and millions of dollars and institutions,” he says. “And the institutions are invested in what’s going on.”
Steve Lamb, a San Anselmo resident who says he was injured by vaccines as a child, credits Dr. Wakefield—and others who speak out against vaccines—with “great courage and tenacity.” And, he adds, while Marin may be more supportive of vaccine opt-outs than other places, “it still requires a high degree of commitment to withstand the strong social pressures to follow the crowd.”
Near the end of my interview with Dr. Harte, I tell him that I’ve spoken to people, some very close to me, who believe in the efficacy of vaccines but worry that we’re going overboard, administering too many shots too fast. This seems to be the middle ground, I say, between the mainstream medical community and the anti-vaccine crowd.
And, I wonder, are people like Dr. Harte—with claims of a poisoned generation and vast public health coverup—preventing a less sensational, perhaps important conversation from taking place?
“Do I prevent that conversation?” Dr. Harte asks. “No. And anybody that would think that, what they’re trying to do is shut me up, while the people on the other end saying that it’s absolutely essential and we need vaccines for every single thing in the book and other things we can’t even think of, they’re OK to talk.”
Ultimately, of course, Dr. Harte, Steve Lamb and the 8 percent of Marin parents who opt-out have every right to talk. And to not vaccinate. The question is, should they? Should they be allowed to endanger public safety, as most doctors and public health officials say they are, even if they claim to be doing just the opposite?
This is the place where personal freedom and the greater good—not to mention conflicting versions of reality—collide. Where the debate, inevitably, gets messy. Where I didn’t really want to write this story, but I’m mostly glad I did.
Vaccines By The Numbers
8 percent of school-age children in Marin are not fully vaccinated (nearly four times the state average)
95 percent of incoming kindergartners at Sausalito’s private New Village School were unvaccinated in the 2012-’13 school year
173 cases of whooping cough reported in Marin in 2013, the second-highest rate in California
295,000 annual deaths from whooping cough worldwide
Take a cheap shot at Jacob at ja************@gm***.com.
Of course there’s an app for it—search the application store for “sleep” and at least 2,200 smartphone programs pop up, all promising to make that mysterious one-third of our lives even better. But is sleeping with a smartphone all that smart?
There are four basic functions of sleep apps:
• Monitoring sleep and recording “light” and “deep” sleep as well as time spent sleeping.
• Playing sounds to help you fall asleep and sounds to help you wake up.
• Recording the sounds you make during the night.
• Sounding alarms during the night when snoring is detected so that the snorer wakes up and is, supposedly, eventually “trained” to roll over and be quiet.
Neither of us felt we needed or wanted to try that last category, but here’s a sampling of some of the applications we did “test sleep.”
Sleep Cycle ($1.99) This app “senses” your sleep patterns by using the phone’s “accelerometer” to record movement. There are instructions on how to place the phone, face down, near the corner of the mattress. Then, during the night, according to the instructions, “you move differently in bed during the different sleep states.” The alarm goes off when it senses you are in a “light” sleep phase up to 30 minutes before your designated wake-up time, and you can choose from 15 different alarm sounds (from “Warm breeze” to “Metro mind”) or music already on your phone.
Clearly this is not a real scientific instrument. One night I was wide awake but kept very still—my phone recorded this as a “deep sleep” phase. It’s also unclear what the charts really mean; after five nights it gives you a “sleep quality” number, as a percent, but a percent of what? Are there people who get 100 percent? Are they dead? It also uses the phone’s camera to record your heart rate upon awakening (the app warns that this “is not an actual medical device”). And for only $9.99 a year all your sleep information can be uploaded to a secure server so you’ll never lose it, which seems something like saving fingernail clippings in a bank vault.
Still, it was amusing to see my sleep charts every morning and this app did make me a more mindful sleeper, if that’s not an oxymoron. Plus it was a far more pleasant way to wake up than the usual routine: with KCBS clicking on and announcing that 101 south is jammed from Rowland Boulevard to Central San Rafael.— JV
Sleep Time (Free): I was suspicious about Sleep Time. A giant analog clock that looked awfully like the clock already provided in my iPhone stared back. What will this alarm clock do for me? I set an alarm, put the phone face down under my pillow and drifted off. The next morning I woke to the soft sound of a xylophone slowly approaching (if xylophones had legs). I looked at the clock. It was 6:45—an entire 15 minutes before my alarm needed to go off. Normally I’d be disgruntled and feel bamboozled out of a well-deserved 15 minutes of extra sleep. But whether it was the xylophone, the fact that I charted 9 hours and 35 minutes of sleep or perhaps because I woke up at the most fitting time, my shift of consciousness seemed a bit easier. A quick click of the button over to the “Sleep Lab”—it broke my sleep down into percentages and three categories: light sleep, deep sleep and awake. The app and charts included did not help me gain sleep or guide me into it, but it created a burning interest in my sleeping patterns—and it was straightforward enough to operate while I was still a little groggy.—SP
24/7 Motion X (99 cents): This app does all of the standard alarm and monitoring sleep functions, but it also records “sleeping sounds” for you to listen to when you wake up. According to 24/7: “It’s fun, and very helpful.” Or horrifying. In several nights I heard mostly covers rustling and one brief stint of demure snoring. But there were also some very unladylike sounds (blame the vegetarian chili), and one stint of hard-core snoring (blame the dog?). The app encourages one to tweet or Facebook results (yeah, right). And 24/7 is also well named. In addition, during the day, it monitors step counts, calories burned, and tells you when the sun sets and rises. If you’re “not active” for an hour it tells you to get up and move. During a walk it will tell you how long you’ve gone and how fast. I fully expect future upgrades will remind you to call your mother and save more for retirement. It’s all too much and very draining, on the psyche as well as on the phone’s battery.—JV
SleepBot (Free): SleepBot analyzed everything I’d never contemplated about my sleep and myself. I set an alarm and woke during a light sleep phase—the best time to wake according to the app. The sound of the gradual alarm was soothing compared to the banging of bongos I normally use as my iPhone alarm setting. It even gave me the option to rate my own sleep and share my motion, nighttime noises and sleeping charts with my Facebook friends. (I declined.) If you’re a numbers type of person, this is an app with no shortage of charts from stem plots to bar graphs.
I must admit I’ve never been interested in the sounds I make while I sleep, but on the second night I let it record sound. When I woke, I was excited and somewhat frightened to hear the results. Rather than hearing bumps in the night or snoring, all I heard was the rustling of blankets. This portion of the app proved to be incredibly useless for me, however, if you want to prove that your partner snores, this is the app for you.—SP
Relax and Sleep Well with Glenn Harrold (Free): Self-improvement recordings have been around as long as there have been recordings. Glenn Harrold, who touts himself as “the UK’s best selling self-help audio author,” has a mini-empire on the app store, selling 58 separate audio recordings to help you lose weight, gain inner wisdom, be happy, experience spiritual healing and, of course, to get to sleep. The free version (the pay version is $6.99) is touted as a “high-quality hypnosis recording,” and the first time I listened to it the biggest barrier to sleep was to stop giggling. He never says “You are getting sleepy” but he comes damn close many times. It also took a while to figure out the accent—it’s British, but not posh. More like Eliza Dolittle’s father talking through basic breathing and relaxation techniques with echo effects. The first night I fell asleep pretty fast, but woke up feeling tired. Same on night two. The third night I stayed awake to listen to the whole 27 minute tape and was surprised to hear that at the end he brings the listener “out of trance” and declares that one is now fully awake. Huh? Now I have to get another smartphone to track if I wake up or not, and, if so, what I’m doing. Singing and dancing to “Get Me to the Church on Time”?—JV
Sleep Pillow (Free): I’m not one to count sheep and I like falling asleep to the sound of absolutely nothing. The forced croak of a toad in a creek or the forecast fakery that is an occasional bolt of thunder in a gentle “rain storm,” isn’t for me. Regardless, I decided to see what Sleep Pillow had to offer. Blending the best assets of social media, it lets you “like” your favorite sounds with a slideshow of Instagram-inspired pictures. You find your favorites from a buffet of sounds—it’s the Fresh Choice of sleep apps. I decided to go with the singing humpback whales and tinder gently burning in a fire. The two opposite elements blended rather nicely, and after I muffled the deep whale calls with a pillow, the subtle mixture served its purpose and I drifted off. If you’re looking for an app that will tune out snoring, kids or animals, Sleep Pillow has you covered. However, I think with or without the metaphorical whales and burning embers, I somehow would have found myself asleep just as easily.—SP
You may have heard their voices as an Orc or Uruk in Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings trilogy—or seen them basking under the rays of the San Francisco sun at Pier 39.
Perhaps the 1994 movie Andre, about a harbor seal turned family companion, captivated your heart and earned your devoted attention. Whether your first brush with one of these marine mammals took place through your television screen or out on a stroll along the California coast, its fair to say their reach is far, and their faces—adorable.
On the outskirts of Sausalito, the Baker-Barry Tunnel serves as a one-way shot out to the Pacific Ocean. On your way to the coast, the hilly roads are lined with abandoned U.S. Army barracks juxtaposed against the natural beauty of the Marin Headlands. Atop the hill, overlooking the California coast, resides the Marine Mammal Center, directly in the center of the former Nike missile site at Fort Cronkhite.
On an unseasonably warm autumn morning, Mammal Center founders Patricia Arrigoni, Lloyd Smalley and Paul Maxwell take a tour of the facility they helped bring into being.
New book about the Marine Mammal Center
The story of the center’s founding is back in the spotlight this year, as Pat Arrigoni’s latest book, The Marine Mammal Center: How It All Began, brings renewed interest to one of the leading marine mammal research and education centers in the world.
Arrigoni published her book last March and spent the remainder of the year attending book signings at the center and around Marin.
The book came to being thanks in part to the author’s penchant for immaculate record keeping—in 2009, while preparing for the opening of the MMC’s new $33 million facility, Smalley and Maxwell joined Arrigoni in combing through her vast trove of mammal center history. And that’s when the trio realized the significance of their story and the need to share it.
“We went through it and said, ‘Wow this is really an interesting story about people, history and the evolution of an environmental organization that took hold over a 39-year period,'” Maxwell, says. “[It] developed into something very respectable. It was even more amazing when we thought about how it developed with the people—people sort of came out of the woodwork when [we] needed them. And [they were] usually multi-talented [i.e. a lawyer who was also a biologist].
“And if they weren’t,” laughs Maxwell, “they would be by the end of it.”
•••••
Maxwell, Arrigoni and Smalley first joined forces back in the 1960s while working together at the Louise A. Boyd Natural Science Museum in San Rafael, now known as WildCare. While the Boyd Science Museum was not an animal rescue/rehabilitation center, as WildCare is today, people would occasionally send injured or orphaned animals to the museum for care. In 1969, a young California sea lion was shipped to the museum; she was dubbed Alice Parsons by Smalley, who took the name from a shipping document mistakenly given to him by the airport clerk (for the human remains of one Alice Parsons). Alice was an instant hit at the museum; a charismatic favorite to staff and visitors. But it was Alice’s short life that earned the attention of Maxwell, Arrigoni and Smalley. The seemingly healthy sea lion died quite unexpectedly—and left everyone questioning the cause. It was not uncommon for young marine animals to die at an early age in captivity. Yet, other sea lions had lived for up to 20 years at some institutions. At the time, there was no baseline of information collected on marine mammals in captivity—no studies on the variables that resulted in either early death or long life. Alice’s demise remained a mystery, and precipitated an interest in research at the museum. The museum members reached out to the Stanford Research Institute (SRI), which had just published a book called Behavior and Physiology of Pinnipeds.
After their encounter with Alice (and thanks to a collaboration with SRI) research began to build up and early versions of rescue teams began to form at the Boyd Museum. Many more marine mammals passed through the doors—and Arrigoni, Smalley and Maxwell’s knowledge and admiration of the warm-blooded sea creatures grew.
Time passed. Maxwell went on to work at the San Francisco Zoo; Arrigoni pursued a career in journalism; Smalley left the museum as well, looking for his next adventure.
But in the years following Smalley couldn’t suppress his fascination with marine mammals. He recalls one day in the early ’70s, while reminiscing about his fondest memories at the Boyd Museum, he confided in his wife that what he missed most was working with the marine mammals. She looked straight at him and said, “Well then, start your own center.”
And that’s just what he did.
Smalley drafted a proposal to create a “cooperative wildlife rehabilitation center” and called Maxwell and Arrigoni to set up a team to bring this dream to life. After years of proposal writing, letters to county supervisors, congressional representatives and senators, and seeking grants and donations—the Marine Mammal Center opened in 1975.
Today, the Marine Mammal Center (MMC) is a nonprofit that serves as a central location for the rescue, rehabilitation and release of sick or injured marine mammals. It established a stranding network over 600 miles along the California coast from San Luis Obispo up into Sonoma County. The MMC is a hospital facility, not a home. The goal of the center is to return the animals to their original habitats. The center was one of the first places to record and develop a baseline of research for understanding marine mammals. It has over 24 years of deep-freeze tissue samples that scientists from all around the world utilize. Over their 39 years, Arrigoni estimates 15,000 volunteers have donated time and efforts to the center. Some volunteers have remained at the center for decades. Current Executive Director Jeff Boehm first walked through the building as a volunteer while still in high school.
“It’s about the only place [where] people who seriously enjoy animals can go and actually work with seals, sea lions and scientists. [They can work] without getting a four-year degree and having to come in as an intern,” Maxwell says. “There are an incredible number of people who’ve gone onto careers who started as volunteers. One of the fascinating parts about [the Marine Mammal Center] is the people—and the other fascinating part about it is where it is.”
The center sits on a piece of land just opposite of the Pacific Ocean with direct access to the coastline, an ideal location for rescue and release runs. Maxwell saw the site early on while still at the Boyd Museum, during preliminary marine mammal rescue and releases.
“When we were out here, we got to know the U.S. Army people really well, and they were a big help,” Maxwell says. “We didn’t think much about it as the Nike missile site, [but more as] the perfect set up: it’s structurally sound, it’s got a lot of cement [already available] and it’s right next to the ocean to turn the animals loose. We just assumed we could go in and do it.
“And when I think about it now,” Maxwell laughs…
“Nobody could ever pull it off now!” Arrigoni interrupts.
•••••
In 2009, the Marine Mammal Center reopened with a new facility. The renovation was a four-year long and $32 million project that has gave the center the capacity to care for over 1,700 animals in its first year. It’s a staggering increase compared to the six animals it cared for during its first year open in 1975.
A mass stranding in 2009 contributed to the heightened increase of animal intake (compared to the yearly average of about 500-600 animals), and also emphasized the need for a Marine Mammal Center.
This month, the center is preparing to open a sister facility in Kona, Hawaii. The center teamed up with the Hawaii Wildlife Fund to raise $3.2 million to build Ke Kai Ola (“The Healing Sea”) a Hawaiian monk seal healthcare facility. The seal population in Hawaii has dwindled, with only 1,100 remaining in the wild. The population continues to decline at a 4 percent rate each year.
‘Scoggins’ was admitted to the Marine Mammal Center on Dec. 26; the 165 pound male is suffering from domoic acid toxicity—which occurs when sea lions eat small fish containing toxic levels of algae. Photo by Julie Vader.
“[At this point] literally every individual animal counts,” Jim Oswald, former communications manager at the MMC said recently. “This facility is the next arm of the Marine Mammal Center-it’s really a dream ultimately of [our] mission, which is to help all animals whether they’re threatened, endangered or not.”
Although the Marine Mammal Center doesn’t have direct experience with the Hawaiian monk seal, its physiology is very similar to that of the elephant seal, an animal the center has an extensive background working with complete with complied research. Oswald indicated that MMC’s history with the elephant seal allows the center a promising success rate while working with the Hawaiian monk seal.
With the Hawaii hospital’s funding all in place, they are hoping to complete construction by the end of January. Ke Kai Ola already took in its first patient in early October (a Hawaiian monk seal who playfully nipped at some tri-athletes). The center rescued and relocated the animal to the outer southwest region of Kauai.
Education remains a heavy focus for the center across the Pacific Ocean at its new facility. The center hopes to create “community engagement” and understanding like it has in its California branch. “This is an endangered mammal that has nowhere else to go. So, [community understanding and educating] will be a huge focus as we move forward,” Oswald says.
In addition to the grand opening of the Hawaii hospital, MMC just refreshed its long-range plan.
MMC Director Boehm says the center is “well poised” for the 21st century.
“We have our range, 600 miles in California, treating animals here,” says Boehm. “But now, with the water just started running in our facility on the Big Island over in Kona, we’ve got a new fresh strategy in our education division—it’s a main focus.”
Boehm also says a refocus on its funding streams is on the horizon.
“As a nonprofit, we are seriously looking at how we bring revenue into our operation,” he says. “Eighty-five percent is classic fundraising; we are exploring how to bring that [number] down, to decrease the reliance on funding.”
Would a Marine Mammal Center have flourished anywhere but Marin? Perhaps, or perhaps not. Boehm cites the majority of Marin’s residents with a natural inclination to be “good stewards of the environment.” And Arrigoni, Maxwell and Smalley, meanwhile, continue to visit the site regularly—attending fundraisers and retelling their story to the next generation of MMC volunteers.
“It’s amazing how long [volunteers] last,” says Maxwell, who himself has returned on occasion as a volunteer docent. “That’s the thing—you just get hooked on it.”
“I don’t want to see that you can cry on cue—I just want to know that you can look like a person checking into a fucking hotel.” Ann Brebner laughs as she describes the gravest mistake nascent actors commit during auditions.
To label Brebner an instrumental force in Marin’s film and theater scene is to undermine the breadth of her work. Soft-spoken with a warm New Zealand accent and a backing of innumerable accomplishments, it’s hard to avoid hanging onto each word Brebner delivers.
On a Monday afternoon in early November Brebner agrees to meet for tea and, after selecting a noncaffeinated option, we sit in front of the fire and she asks, “So what are we talking about today?”
Fair enough. Perhaps we are talking about Ann’s first entirely original play Dead Girl— she dropped the “The” from its title that very morning—or maybe her provincial and illustrious work at San Francisco’s Brebner Agency as a casting agent, where she commanded the local movie scene in the early ’60s and ’70s. Or we could have gathered to talk about her influential role in the acquisition and reopening, in 1999, of the historic art-deco era Rafael Theater—now known as the Christopher B. Smith Rafael Film Center—where the popular Mill Valley Film Festival takes place. Maybe the topic of discussion is her 1961 contribution to the local theater scene with the establishment of the Marin Shakespeare Festival (planting the seeds of the Marin Shakespeare Company). But, really, the reason I’m sipping warm tea with the modest Ann on a chilly fall afternoon is to discuss all of the aforementioned milestones and more, that led to her recently being named the recipient of the Pacific Sun‘s Heroes of Marin Art and Culture Award. Clearly, she’s an overqualified recipient.
So how is it that a native New Zealander—who studied theater at the prestigious Old Vic in London—settles in Marin? We have her spontaneity to thank for that—and maybe her intuition, which she credits when deciding how to select the next step in any situation. And, of course, love.
Ann fell in love at the Old Vic with one of her professors, John Brebner, who had just spent a year studying at Stanford and had fallen in love with Sausalito during his time in the states. In 1952 they moved to Marin. “I knew no one in the country at all except for one man to whom I’d been married for a week!” Brebner recalls.
Risk-taking is something that’s worked for her and Marin’s art and culture has certainly swelled thanks to her decision to call Marin home. With a stream of credits behind her, don’t expect Brebner to slow down anytime soon. To the concerned folks who question her pace of work and ask when she’ll find the time to retire she replies, “Huh? Why?”
Yes, there is still more Brebner hopes to tackle. She is currently writing her second entirely original play—which, like Dead Girl, stems from a dream she had. The four-generational play’s current working title is Shoes (that’s subject to change she stresses). As for roles, Brebner’s tried them all. From screenwriting, directing and acting (she was the lead in an adaptation of The Curious Savage) to casting George Lucas’ first two films, discovering Danny Glover and earning a degree in abnormal psychology—there are few creative hats which Brebner hasn’t donned. So what does she like best?
“I think I like directing best,” Brebner muses. “Well, for one thing I know how to do it!”
Brebner enjoys the ability to create “a circumstance and feeling” for each individual audience. “Performances are repeated, but they are each slightly different because of the audience,” Brebner explains. “Their pressure points are different and their hearts have been assaulted by different things.”
And she’s responsible for bringing a whole lot more of those feelings to Marin audiences through the medium of film with the CFI’s purchase of the Rafael Theater, now an independent film mecca for the avid movie buff.
“It is very much the image that Mark [Fishkin] and I had,” Brebner says. “[The Rafael Film Center] is very much fulfilling that, and one of the best things for me is to sit there and hear people say, ‘This is our theater or this is my theater.’ And the other big thing about it is: It is easier to fund a film than it is to get it shown in a theater,” Ann explains.
“There are a hell of a lot of good films out there that are not being shown,” she says, pointing out that one of the hardest things for a burgeoning filmmaker is to find a venue for their work. “And we wanted to create a place where emerging filmmakers could get their work shown under ideal conditions. And that’s part of the program. It has now taken on its own life, and it is ours.”
Brebner celebrated her 90th birthday this August at Skywalker Ranch. With more than 180 guests in attendance, Brebner described the occasion as an event that was “one of a kind, one I will never, ever forget every detail of.” As she stares into the distance hugging her mug for warmth, her reflections are nearly tangible.
“It’s been a really interesting life. And the interesting thing about 90 is—somebody asked me what it felt like—and I didn’t answer, I said, ‘I have no idea what it feels like,'” Brebner explains. “But when I wrote to George [Lucas] saying thank you I said, ‘it feels sort of like kindergarten—you have no idea what the fuck is going to happen—none…'”
Brebner laughs and adds, “I mean you may die tomorrow, [or] you may be writing five more plays—and what encourages this is a secret of all creative work, which is being present in the moment because it may be all we have.
“It’s sort of intriguing—it’s very freeing. I don’t feel bound by anything much at all. And I’m lucky I continue to do what I want to do.”
Hero FYI
• Brebner is a senior peer counselor in the HOPE Program. Each week she visits clients who have fallen through the cracks or with no family left.
• The first film she cast was George Seaton’s The Pleasure of His Company starring Fred Astaire, Debbie Reynolds and Tab Hunter.
• Brebner received her acceptance letter for the Old Vic in London and to medical school on the same day. She chose the Old Vic, disappointing her father.
• Brebner is getting ready to start directing Riverbride, which came out of the AlterTheater’s writers’ lab. It will open at the end of January.
• The Brebner Agency cast hits like Bullit, Harold and Maude, THX-1138 and American Grafitti.
• Brebner helped sway the City of San Rafael to sell the Rafael Theater to the California Film Institute for $1.
by Tanya Henry
It has been a while since I’ve given an update on local restaurants, and since there has been quite a bit of activity in recent months, I thought I’d report on some unexpected closures, exciting openings and events around the county.
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"I don't want to see that you can cry on cue—I just want to know that you can look like a person checking into a fucking hotel." Ann Brebner laughs as she describes the gravest mistake nascent actors commit during auditions.
To label Brebner an instrumental force in Marin's film and theater scene is to undermine the breadth...
A snapshot of the former Big Bear Market, which was located at the MBB’s future location of 1966 Sir Francis Drake Ave.
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