5 minute read
Mendocino
Mendocino is known for its artisan community. It seems everywhere you turn, there is a studio or a gallery. During the summertime, it is also known for the number of tourists that come to visit. Debbie was one of those visitors. She was wanting to learn and perfect the craft of clay modelling and thought Mendocino would be a great place to meet someone that could possibly direct her to a mentor.
Debbie started to walk around downtown going to the various galleries and admiring all the work these artists do. One that stood out were some sculptures by an artist named David Pohlheim. She almost felt a connection between his work and the work that she was trying to do.
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Debbie approached the owner of the gallery and asked about David’s work and
if he was local or maybe somewhere nearby. The gallery owner handed Debbie David’s business card which had all his contact information. “He is a bit of a character.” Debbie could not wait to get to her hotel room to try and contact him. And, hopefully, he will be willing to mentor her with the craft.
Debbie left the gallery and saw a park bench. She decided to sit there and make the phone call on her cell phone to David to see if she could drop by.
The phone rang several times. Debbie assumed it was going to go to voice mail, but then a man’s voice answered. “This better be good,” he said.
Debbie was startled, “Hello, is this David Pohlheim, the sculpture?”
“I guess that would depend on who you are,” the mad said. “Are you from the IRS, State or other local government?”
“Ah, no,” Debbie responded. “My name is Debbie and I saw your work at one of the galleries in Mendocino. I was hoping you had a few minutes to talk.”
“Oh, yes. I always have time for my admirers,” David said. His voice changing to a more pleasant-sounding man.
Debbie felt relieved that he was not as rude as he first sounded. “I absolutely love your work. I am a young artist that is trying to perfect the craft. I was hoping you had some time that we could meet to discuss the possibility of you being my mentor?”
David agreed and gave Debbie his address to his studio. It was just on the other side of town and took only a few minutes for Debbie to arrive.
When Debbie arrived at David’s studio, she noticed it was also his residence. She approached the door. Before she had the opportunity to knock or ring the bell, the door opened. Standing there in front of her was a tall, sophisticated looking man. He was probably in his young 50’s. Silver hair, blue eyes, great smile. Debbie instantly felt an attraction to him.
“You must be Debbie,” David said. “Come on in before the nosey neighbors have a chance of seeing you.” Debbie walked in and David quickly looked up
and down the neighborhood as if he were looking for spies and then followed Debbie into the house. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Thank you,” David said, “It belonged to my wife.”
“Belonged?”
“Yes,” David sat down at his desk. “She passed away a few years ago.”
Debbie, feeling some relief that the ‘competition’ had died, said with a giddy voice, “Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,” David said, “You actually remind me of her. I think it’s your eyes.”
Debbie felt as if she was started to blush. “Oh really?”
David put on a smirk, “Yeah. She had two eyes also.”
Debbie laughed. She thought that she may have over did the laughter just a bit at his stupid joke. But David responded with that smirk that she was falling in love with.
Your turn. Finish the story:
Fort Bragg
John was a tree lover. He loved the forest and he loved the trees. He loved the smell, he loved the feel, and he loved what they stood for. In the early 1900’s, logging was just starting up in Mendocino county and John did not want to be any part of it.
The new railroad had just been completed in Fort Bragg allowing the logging production to speed up. It was now much easier to move the logs from city to city, or state to state. All this did was speed up the number of trees that would get cut down in the forest during the day.
Fort Bragg, at the time, relied heavily on the logging industry for its economy. Whenever John would try to set up a protest about the logging, he would get pushed out and kicked out of town. John knew that he was going to fight a
losing battle protesting in town. So, he thought of a protest out of town. He decided he would go into the forest where they are cutting the trees down and set up traps to prevent the loggers from doing their job.
John put together a backpack full of supplies and traps. Not wanting to be spotted, he also wore dark green clothing. John headed out to the logging site, staying off the roads, but using them as a guide to get him to the right location.
At first, the hike was easy. The forest floor was flat and had little growth down below. But the further he got away from town, the rougher the hike was getting. John found himself having to climb over dead trees, hike over deep creeks, and climb small, but steep, cliff sides. On one occasion, he found himself having to climb up next to a fifty-foot waterfall. He started to think, “If I die, nobody will know. Nobody will care.”
After two days of hiking, John finally arrived at the logging camp. He looked around and assessed the situation. He noticed the workers were all heading east away from camp to do their logging. This meant John would have to head south, then east, to avoid being caught. He knew if he were caught, it would likely be the end for him. Because in the middle of the forest, there is no justice. John decided to take the planned route and during nightfall he would set the traps.
John saw the clearing where the loggers had cut already. He made a calculated guess of the next trees the loggers would be cutting down and headed in that direction. He laid down bear traps around the trees. He would cover them in foliage to make them harder to see. John then took his position in some bushes that would give him a clear look at the traps he just laid. Then he waited.
Your turn. Finish the story:
