When I left High School a few weeks before graduation – because, what was the point of graduating? – I joined a true dropout, my friend Jan, and her boyfriend Marty – a bona fide bearded hippy, and drove from LA up to a town called Bolinas, just north of San Francisco.
Marty and Jan’s cousin, a yoga teacher named Sashwatan (who we called “Sash” for short) would be building a house, and Jan and I would be carpenter’s helpers.
We lived under a tarp in the vacant field next to the house, and one day my ex-boyfriend, Alan, came to visit with his three-legged dog, Emery.
Alan was sick – very sick – and would soon die – and he wanted to give Emery to me. Alan leaned down and told the dog that I’d be his new person, that he’d be living with me, and then Alan left, and Emery stayed. And became my dog.
And is still my dog in dreams.
My dog, Emery, and me circa 1972
One day Emery and I clambered down the cliffs of Bolinas, where I went to write in my journal, or play guitar. And when we came back up, there was a van parked on the dirt overlook just above the cliffs, and someone rummaging inside it.
(There was also a snub-nosed, bandy-legged brown dog named Pokey nosing around, but I never liked that dog so I’m leaving him out of the story)
Just as I reached the van, the rummager climbed out and looked up at me with a bag of trash and a huge sense of amusement.
She told me later – but I don’t remember this – that I walked right up to her and said, “Hi! Wanna play?” and she said “Sure!” and we began to dance.
(“Ohhhh … they were high” you’d think. But we weren’t. Life was just like that then, in that place, in that time. I was actually a teetotaler.)
Her name was Felicia, she was a dance teacher, and she immediately invited me to a dance class she was giving in an old market building she and some other friends had rented up in the town of Pt. Reyes Station. So that night, Emery and I piled into her van and headed north to Pt. Reyes Station.
The class was in a big empty building with an open floor and a tiny horseshoe balcony. It looked to have been built around the late 1800’s – but I’m no building historian.
Felicia and her friends had formed a dance collective, rented this building, and since it was the former home of the “Palace Market” – which had moved to a larger tin building across the street – they called it the “Dance Palace.”
As close as I can tell, the dance Felicia taught would today be called “Contact Improv.” Back then she just called it “movement.”
The Dance Palace became my home. Emery and I left Bolinas and moved into the apartment above the Dance Palace with 5 other members of the collective.
We created shows – dragging the huge old upright piano from the “D.P” down the street to the vacant lot where we’d perform them on an abandoned truck flatbed. We showed movies, held classes and danced, and danced in the Dance Palace – and on my 19thbirthday, I produced my first solo concert there on those same boards, with that same old upright piano.
Palace Players outside on the flatbed - I'm 5th from the right, in a wig (circa 1972)
And then I left. I don’t remember why. I moved with a friend to a small duck-hunting cabin ten miles north on the Tomales Bay. Then I started back to school, then moved to Berkeley, and from there to Boston.
And it hurts to write that. Because I never meant to leave, and in my dreams it’s still my home – the way it was then.
I know I can’t go back to that time. I wish I could. I do, in my mind.
And on June 22, 2013 I’ll be back to play a solo concert at the new Dance Palace – a bona fide community center, down the street from the old D.P. — A place I can return to only because other members of the collective stayed on, kept it alive, changed it, rebuilt it.
I think the old upright is gone now. But no matter, I’ll bring my carbon fibre harp.
And as I write that I realize: I guess I can’t expect my past to stay the same if I change so much myself.
I miss the old D.P. I also miss the old me. I wonder how much of each of us I’ll find is still there.
I’m performing Sat. Jun. 22nd, 2013 at the Pt. Reyes Dance Palace – where I gave my first-ever solo concert nearly 4 decades ago.
And Wed. June 26 at the Museum of Making Music (MOMM) in Carlsbad, CA (near San Diego).
OH MY Deborah – you just took me back on such a journey. You see, you and I are from the same . . . let’s call it “Time Zone”. Yeah, I like that! I was born in 1955, so seeing the pictures and you talking about the times and the overall free spirit of our generation just smacked me right in the face. I can just see you and your friends . . .
I had a tight group that I hung out with during that time as well and we have been fortunate enought to get together (most of us) on occasion over the years. It’s GREAT – we seem to go back right where we left off. Memories come flowing out mixed in with the news of what’s been going on over the last (cough, cough) 40 something years.
I’m sure you’ll find that the eyes are still the same and the hearts much bigger than ever even though the years might have taken its toll here and there.
Enjoy your reunion at the DP and with your friends!
All the best to you,
Kay
I love how you said that: ” I’m sure you’ll find that the eyes are still the same and the hearts much bigger than ever even though the years might have taken its toll here and there.” I’m REALLY excited about going back and have been already connecting with so many people from that time. it’s very moving for me! Thanks for your beautiful comment! – DHC
Hi Deborah!
My name is Pam and I am currently living in Reno. From the time I saw you play, I had a familiar feeling about you, your face, your spirit. We have all grown up but a remnant of who we were still remains, or was it just a foundation that laid the strata of our sturdy independent souls. I lived half the time in Inverness, and the other half on a boat in San Rafael. I kept my bike in Inverness and rode to the Palace to watch what I craved, and sang with The Fairfax Street Choir. Remember them? Later, had my first harp lesson with Mildred Dilling at Larson’s Music in Walnut Creek when she came to do a little class to promote L & H. Flash forward to now…. I am in a harp ensemble at University of Reno, studying with Marina, a very talented and wonderful person, you should meet. I was so excited when I read that you are were coming to the Palace and waited for tickets, purchased two and now am unable to come. My Mom had open heart surgery and is staying with me. Never the less, excited for you because you can come back to the area. I am hoping that you come to Oregon in March as you have in the past, so I can attend one of your concerts/ classes there. Have a wonderful weekend in West Marin . I have from time to time gone back and bicycled in the area. The vividness of our youth fresh in my mind, we are now unique individuals, better for the experience of being there…. alive and plucking now!
Pam – I’m so sorry you weren’t able to come to the Dance Palace show – but I PROMISE I will be back again soon! Alive and plucking – you said it!
Wow! You were wonderful tonight at The Dance Palace. I hope it was evident that we were so pleased to be with you.
Thanks for your sweet, evocative, jazzy, sexy, sensitive, funny and insightful show. And for sharing so much.
Aren’t we are all still “the old (young) me” somewhere inside? (The eyes in the mirror of your Birthday Song. )
Ken!!! I can’t believe I didn’t get to give you a big hug!! I am determined to get back to Point Reyes again soon and I let’s have that hug then!
Such an amazing concert last night! Thank you! I was among that magic crowd of young people of that time and place. Shy and on the periphery, but mighty present in my own manner. Loved your concert and you last night. Loved seeing bob van peer last and his charming hermione, whom you serenaded.
We live in boston (roslindale), and i teach at lesley. Maybe we’ll find each other there one day! Thank you again! Carol(ine) heller
Thank you so much! Wow — you got to be with me in my home town! And yes, I LOVED getting to serenade Sandy and Tallulah! So glad you were there!