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The Serra Boys

From left: Chime, Tony, Shelter, Ivory at a small town 4th of July parade. I’ve known Tony for 60 years, twins Shelter and Ivory since the day they were born.  Not many people know that Tony was a star high school athlete (Lincoln H.S., San Francisco, 1949-’52). Fullback on the football team, he also passed and punted, and he excelled at baseball and basketball. No one does that nowadays, what with sports specialization.

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Tony Serra Comes For A Visit

Tony is one of my oldest friends (60 years). We both lived in the Fiji house at Stanford. A fraternity, yes, but a highly unusual one. A lot of unique, non-traditional, and/or eccentric boys. Tony was into philosophy —  Socrates, Plato, Hume, Spinoza, etc. — partying, and howling at every full moon. He at first had a football scholarship, and later worked his way through college.

   Upon graduation (’56), he and his wife Judy took a 4-month Vespa trip all over Europe, and he wrote me a bunch of letters. The one that got me was about taking a  boat from Barcelona to Ibiza, and the dolphins swimming in front of the boat in the moonlight.

   I graduated in ’57, and, along with my wife Sarah, took a boat from NYC to France, hitch-hiked to Milano, bought a new Lambretta, and toured Europe youth-hostel-style for 3 months, California kids out of their country (and state) for the first time, an experience with life-long memories. All because of Tony’s influence.

   In the early 60s he had his law degree and was working for the Alameda county DAs office. I was an insurance broker in San Francisco. We took a trip to Baja, went camping in Mendocino, and would go out to hear music in SF.

Read More …

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28 Year Old Inspired to Change Life by Shelter

Reida clapped her hands when she saw a copy of Shelter at our booth (at the San Francisco Green Festival) today. “This book changed my life,” she said. She said she bought a used copy in a bookstore in New York when she was 12. Here she is with her friend Eqo.

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Stewart Brand on Steven Pinker’s Decline of Violence

“It’s pretty rare for a psychologist to permanently change how we think about history, but Harvard’s Steven Pinker has done that with his book, The Better Angels of Our Nature. 

The tragic view of history, he proves, is wrong; it has always been wrong.
A close examination of the data shows that in every millennium, century, and decade, humans have been drastically reducing violence, cruelty, and injustice—right down to the present year.  A trend that consistent is not luck; it has to be structural.
Real ethical progress, Pinker found, has come from a sequence of institutions, norms, cultural practices, and mental tricks employed by whole societies to change their collective mind and behavior in a peaceful direction.

   Humanity’s great project of civilizing itself is far from complete, but Pinker’s survey of how far we have come builds confidence that the task will be completed, and he illuminates how to get there.

   “The Decline of Violence,” Steven Pinker, Herbst Theater, Civic Center, San Francisco, 7pm, Monday, October 8.” – Stewart Brand

https://longnow.org/seminars/02012/oct/08/decline-violence/

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Olé LA

I flew to LA yesterday, the occasion being a film tonight about my college roommate, Richard Zanuck, who died unexpectedly a few months ago. It’s a documentary on him, titled “Don’t Say No Until I Finish Talking.” It was completed just before he passed away.

  I’m staying in the Erwin Hotel in , Venice Beach, a Joie de Vivre hotel, a block from the beach and it’s  warm, blue-sky LA beach weather. Totally.

   I spent yesterday roaming the boardwalk with 2 cameras. It’s LA at its max. Performers, freaks, skaters, artists, babes, hunks, especially on a Sunday, it’s a dizzying array of let-it-all-hang-out SoCal. Click here for photo album from yesterday.

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Innermost Limits of Pure Fun*

Yesterday was one of the most extraordinary days of my life. I had agreed (after some reluctance) to give a talk at the funeral of my college buddy Richard Zanuck in front of 500 mostly Hollywood people in a Beverly Hills Episcopalian church. I got there early and got a program. There were a total of 5 speakers and they were, in this order:

Dean Zanuck

Tim Burton

Sherry Lansing

Clint Eastwood

Lloyd Kahn

Holy shit! I started to hyperventilate. Vision immediately popped into my mind of a singer going to his gig and upon arrival learning that Otis Redding is the opening act.

Well, a fuck of a lot happened yesterday, every bit of it good. In a nutshell: the family told me to tell the real stories, and I let it rip. True tales of 2 punk pranksters in the ’50s pedal-to-medal in pursuit of pure fun. Trips to Baja and Mexico, surfing, our exploding car at Malibu Colony, fights, practical jokes of fiendish intensity, the pure F-U-N of it all. Once I started with the stories, they were with me. Channeling fer shure.  They loved hearing about this side of him. This was a much-loved guy. It was a sweet spot in time.

More later. I’ve got to digest it all. What a day!

I am so loving Southern California.

*Title of George Greenough in-the-curl surf film

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On Swimming

The pool here at the Harris Ranch is spectacular. Olympic size, not chlorined, perfect temperature. If I had a pool like this available I’d swim every day. I swam about 10 laps yesterday, crawl and breaststroke, exulting. I watched a little boy with his dad. The kid was a water sprite. He loved it.

   It reminded me of teaching swimming (when in college). I specialized in kids who were deathly afraid of the water. There was a skinny little say 6-year old kid in Santa Cruz, and he’d probably had a water trauma, because he trembled when in the pool, wouldn’t get his face near the water. His mom really wanted him to get over it.

   I started him blowing bubbles, then harder and harder until his face was getting splashed. Then floating a short distance to pool’s edge, face down. Progress. OK Eric, I said, I want you to ride on my back and we’ll swim around. After I got him to relax a bit and loosen up on his choke hold on my neck, I started swimming. Then blowing bubbles as we swam. He got comfortable. OK Eric, I want you to take a breath and close your  eyes and we’ll go under water. We dove. Then under water with his eyes open, and voilà, Eric became a swimmer.

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Nicest Compliment Ever

Over one of Bonnie’s great dinners in the Bonnie/SunRay kitchen Thursday night, fire burning in the cob fireplace, we were comparing astrological signs. Bonnie asked mine. “Taurus.” What date? “April 28th.”

Anna, Bonnie’s youngest brother Brian’s girlfriend, age 20 (who loved the tiny homes book), said to me, “I’m glad you were born.” Oh! Hand to heart. It just made me melt.

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