I started musing – what’s the difference between moving and traveling? I’m referring to the kind of traveling I did, where I’d rent a house or an apartment for several weeks or even months in the same location. I wanted to get to know the people, the customs, maybe even learn a bit of the language. When my aunt came to visit my daughter and me in Japan, as part of a three- (or maybe four?) week tour around the world, she stayed in a different hotel almost every other day. That’s clearly traveling. But moving – one generally associates truckloads of furniture and stuff with moving. And yet, when my daughter and I left Japan in the late summer of 1977 with only two suitcases and a stroller (she wasn’t quite two yet), we certainly MOVED to the United States, maybe for no other reason than that we’re still here.
Some friends I knew from Japan and who lived in San Francisco – a couple with two kids a little older than my daughter – put us up for a few months. The culture shock certainly was immense, and it helped to have something like a surrogate family at first. At the same time, San Francisco seemed so familiar after having lived in Japan and other Asian countries for over four years. This was the culture I had grown up with when I lived in Germany. I could understand the language, I could read everything, the food was similar, people related to each other and behaved in a manner which looked absolutely commonplace to me. And then I had a strange dream; not so much visual but as if somebody talked to me. The voice urged me to pay attention, rather than assuming “same old, same old”. The voice explained that yes, American and European/German cultures were similar – but not identical. I got the image of hand-carved wooden blocks used to print on fabric. They might look almost the same, but if one would print on transparent paper and stack several on top of each other, subtle differences become obvious. It was a gentle, but significant warning that I never forgot.
Some other friends shared an old, big, shingle house in Berkeley, and when a room became available, my daughter and I moved in for a while. Until the mother of one of the people who lived there – I think he was a student at UC Berkeley – came back and threw us all out, including her son. She owned the house and didn’t want to have roommates.
It took me a bit to find an apartment for us; the rental housing market was highly competitive even then. In 1980 we found a lovely place in a house which had been built in 1900 by Bernard Maybeck, a famous local architect. It had a huge yard which was just dirt and weeds when we moved in, but over the years and with the help of various neighbors we changed it into a veritable paradise. We revived a little pond and added a waterfall, created several vegetable patches, planted a number of glorious roses – English roses, hybrids, climbing roses – and an abundance of perennials and annuals. Because of the mild weather in the Bay Area everything was growing profusely and most of the work I had to do was to trim back the growth so the garden wouldn’t turn into a veritable jungle.
I lived in the Maybeck House for about 20 years – the longest ever in one location. The main reason for this was my daughter; she needed a fairly stable environment, go to school, and feel safe. Also because of her, this became a very creative period in my life. She started First Grade at the local Waldorf School, and I became their German teacher. A few of us parents rented a small store in a busy North-Berkeley neighborhood where we sold hand-made toys, children’s clothes, and gift-items, all made from natural fibers. It was called Next To Nature and run like a co-op. I created marionettes, puppets, dolls, and fabric sculptures. Each item was unique and my hourly wage was dismal, but to streamline and make the same thing over and over again? Nah, that was no fun. After Next To Nature closed because we simply couldn’t compete with toys from China, I ran a mail-order business for a while, Strings Attached. My marionettes even made it onto the cover of the 1984 Goodfellow Catalog, that’s how one ordered things before the Internet – how many of you remember these ancient times?
Because My daughter went to a Waldorf School, I became interested in Rudolf Steiner and his philosophy which I studied for many years and still consider relevant. When my daughter started at UC Santa Cruz for her Bachelor’s degree, I decided to go back to school as well and I enrolled in the B.A.Completion Program at the California Institute of Integral Studies in San Francisco which gave me credit for the years of study at the university of Munich, so that I’d get my degree in one year. The program was so much fun that I continued to get my Master’s, and then I finished the course work for a PhD. When my daughter moved to Boston for her graduate studies, I decided to leave the Bay Area and write my dissertation somewhere quieter – and I moved to New Mexico, to the northern part with its glorious mountains and forests.
At first, I ended up in Abiquiú, famous because of the painter Georgia O’Keeffe. My dedication to academic studies soon flew out the window; the magnificent landscape and endless adventurous hikes took precedence. And I joined the volunteer fire department. Compared to studying books and writing papers, fighting a fire seemed immensely more practical and had immediate results. I got as far as having my dissertation proposal accepted, and then I ran out of money. I had to be enrolled every semester when I was working on my dissertation, and when I couldn’t pay the fees any more I was out.
I moved two more times – first to Arroyo Del Agua, a tiny “suburb” of Coyote, and then, just about twelve years ago, to Coyote proper. And now I have to move again. My neighbor who I’ve known for about 14 years and who was something of a friend if not a close one, bought the house I had rented and now he is kicking me out. He will change this little cottage into three or four units and use them for summer retreats and probably vacation rentals. To make money.
So, I have to move again. The most distressing part is that I won’t be able to take Juna, who is six years old, and Xuxu (pronounced “Shu-Shu) who is two. I will have to find – hopefully – ONE home for them so that they can stay together. I know this is a shot in the dark, but if you happen to know people in New Mexico – GOOD people – who’d be willing to adopt Juna and Xuxu and offer them a new home, I’d be enormously relieved.
I wish I knew someone who would take care of these beautiful animals...and I wish you tons of luck as you land on your feet in a new location!
Juna and Xuxu are beautiful. I have friends south of Jemez Springs who are salt of the earth. Please go to Karen's rescue website and meet them, as my friend.
https://www.animal-kind.org/
I'll give them a call. That OK w/you?