Longtime Santa Barbara resident Greta Green passed away last month after 81 years of fearless living.
From an early age, Green was privy to a secret many people never learn: not to let fear stop you from living life. It’s not that she lacked fear. She just didn’t let it get in her way.
Her insistence manifested early. As a tomboy raised in La Jolla, Green refused to wear dresses, and preferred climbing trees and catching snakes with boys. Then, as a teenager, she was one of the few women to pick up a surfboard and ride the waves like men. She had skills.
Green carried this tenacity into adulthood. Enrolling at UC Berkeley in 1961, she was once admonished by her sorority for not wearing a full slip. (Later, when Green was caught climbing out the window after curfew, she and the sisters decided to part ways.) She famously enjoyed her freshman year so much that she finished several grade points short. But instead of retaking courses, she transferred to San Francisco State — graduating in 1965 with a degree in anthropology, and a lifelong interest in cultures and peoples.
She raised three sons, whom she devoted herself to rearing in her unique way. Whereas some parents wanted doctors or lawyers, she wanted individuals. As she grew older, she herself had less and less time for social convention, eschewing makeup and embracing her graying tresses. On more than one occasion she decried the brassiere as “a harness.”
Green fought hard for people she cared about. As a 6th-grade teacher in Delano, in the early 1970s, she became incensed when she arrived at a bakery to retrieve a cake for her class of mostly low-income Latino students, the children of farmworkers (Green herself was an active supporter of Cesar Chavez’s grape boycott). She had ordered a large cake, but was given a small one — too small to feed all her students. Convinced the baker was discriminating against them (or maybe someone messed up the order), the pregnant Green shoved the cake across the counter, and it landed on the floor with a splat. Her then-husband had to bail her out of jail.
She arrived in Santa Barbara in 1972, put down deep roots, and raised three children in the San Roque neighborhood, staying for 24 years — her longest chapter in life. She explored every corner of the South Coast, strolling its shores and canyons, walking in the Solstice parade, and playing volleyball with friends at MacKenzie Park and East Beach.
Green was a feminist by example, if not by membership card. As a Santa Barbara housewife, she volunteered at the Westside Clinic and later joined a women’s soccer team called the Goal Rushers, before returning to work — landing a job at the Fisherman’s Wharf Market, the erstwhile collective tucked below what is now Brophy Brothers, at the harbor. She was soon managing the store.
While selling fish, Green met the love of her life: Michael Rouse, a surfing autodidact from Sierra Madre. As the kitchen manager of the now-shuttered Second Story restaurant in Victoria Court, Rouse arrived at her counter in December 1981, searching for seafood. But he found something else. They both got the hook.
A nurturing caregiver to humans and animals alike, Green later entered nursing school at SBCC, and spent two decades as an RN, including at Cottage Hospital.
Many Independent readers will remember Green for her years selling at the Santa Barbara Farmers’ Market, alongside Rouse — by then her second husband, a Montecito grower, and market president. Green also canvassed the market for her favorite political causes.
She described motherhood as her most important role in life — and there was nothing she wouldn’t do for her kids. Most of all, she imparted chutzpah: “Go in there like you own the place,” she was known to advise.
After her youngest child left the nest, Green embarked on new adventures. First, she and Rouse purchased a 125-acre farm in Hermann, Missouri, and relocated to the Midwest wine country. She worked as a nurse and Rouse as a winemaker, spending time with nearby family and a wide circle of friends known as “the Expats.” Then, two decades later, Green transitioned to her final act, retiring to Todos Santos, Baja California Sur, in search of sunshine, sea, and her beloved Mexican culture. Embracing Baja life, she volunteered for numerous causes, including the protection of endangered sea turtles.
A woman who trusted her instincts, Green had a knack for living in the moment, and she took others with her. Throughout life, she was never without a dog, and was happiest by the sea. Green was also a reliable source of fun, fresh air, and laughs — rolling her eyes at the pompous and suffering no fools. And she swore by her daily mezcalita.
Green loved the music of Joan Baez, the Gipsy Kings, and anything involving mariachis — but especially “Bésame Mucho.” She also loved to dance and made it her mission to coax others to join, becoming queen of the impromptu dance party somewhere in middle age.
In mid-2023, Green was diagnosed with an aggressive leukemia. But her response was characteristic. “I’ve had a great life,” she said. Cancer loomed, but it stood no chance of dimming her spirit. She continued to live her way — so much that in May 2024, when a specialist gave her less than two months to live, Green responded by staying for a full 15. And even as the end approached, she remained steadfast. When her Canadian death doula observed her struggling to drink water from a cup and offered a straw, Green refused it. Straws are not good for turtles, she insisted, barely able to speak.
Green passed peacefully on Saturday, August 23, 2025. She is survived by her husband Michael Rouse of Todos Santos, Mexico, and sons Jason McManigal of Granite Bay, Bret McManigal of San Francisco, and Barney McManigal of Oxford, United Kingdom — and their spouses, Lindsey Huff McManigal, Kimberlea Offner McManigal, and Mark Bainbridge, respectively. Green is also survived by five grandchildren: Gavin (19), Garner (18), Ryan (16), Giulia (15), and Cole (14) McManigal. She is also survived by her sister Linda Green Moscarella of Taos, NM, and her children Raphael and Rachel; and, by her brother Tim Green of Big Sur, his wife Laurie, and their daughter Mariah. Green is also survived by many loving relatives and cherished friends. She leaves behind two dogs, Panté and Brindle, but will also be missed by countless other Todos Santos canines, who flocked regularly upon hearing her voice.
