Ihad the same first impression that many others had when meeting the estimable Joe Nida, a 6ʹ4Ê° behemoth of a man, with a deep baritone voice and an intimidating scowl. My first true interactions with him were under unusual circumstances. My father, who was the same age as Joe, had just passed away unexpectedly. In circumstances like that, the reaction of most people is to stay away from and not “bother” the suffering person. Joe thought differently.
If 1967 presented America with the mythic “Summer of Love,” when a young generation decided to “turn on, tune in, and drop out” due to the government’s unnecessary war in Vietnam, perhaps we can sum up the present American zeitgeist as the “Summer of Angst.” In the midst of the current mess in Iraq, today’s youth has to wonder not only whatever happened to their rock ‘n’ roll, but whatever happened to the notion of a democracy “of the people, by the people, and for the people”?
Gullible’s Travels: Ah yes, those Sunday travel sections that lead the unsuspecting to believe that heading out to see the world is just a bowl of cherries. Well, take it from me, it can also be the pits.
Inexplicably, the makers of The Nanny Diaries, in adapting this phenomenally popular novel for the screen, have chosen to change virtually everything about it, from minor details, to significant aspects of the characters, to the story arc itself.
An American classic is currently showing in San Juan Bautista, just four hours’ drive north of Santa Barbara. A play with music, Zoot Suit is a construct of fact and fantasy recounting the story of the infamous “zoot suit riots” that took place during World War II when U.S. sailors and Marines attacked any Mexican youth wearing the strange attire.
When I get hungry for old Santa Barbara, I drive a kind of lost highway out to the Dutch Garden. You’ll find it (not them) on a stretch of road at the bottom of San Marcos Pass, the delta of automobiles washing down from Lake Cachuma, where State Street turns without fanfare or notice into Hollister Avenue, that tipping point of consciousness between S.B. and greater Goleta-land completely off tourist itinerary.
GIVE IT BACK: At first I thought I was just feeling sorry for myself. But then I read that scientists just discovered a vast, empty intergalactic hole of nothingness about one-billion light-years wide. Translated into terms we can comprehend, that’s roughly six-billion-trillion miles. No stars. No gas. No dust. It’s so empty, they don’t even have dark matter there. Worse yet, cell phone reception really sucks.
Cut tomatoes into one-inch cubes. In the bottom of a large salad bowl, add three teaspoons of olive oil, vinegar, ½ teaspoon of salt, and ½ teaspoon of pepper. Mix with a fork, then add tomatoes and chopped basil, mixing several times. Set aside.
It’s a late summer tradition at El Encanto: watching the afternoon fog rolling in, enveloping the waterfront, and draping the Mesa in wet lace on its misty, streetlight-blurring crawl through Santa Barbara toward the spires of St. Anthony’s. For the past 90 or so years, that’s been the highlight of many a day for both tourists, who’d stay at the charming Riviera resort, and locals, who’d frequent the popular bar and restaurant for drinks and dining.
The group of performers that has coalesced around director and actor Ed Giron’s various projects has talent and an aptitude for comedy, and this night of one-act comedies may be the best thing the group has done yet.
