The Saving Of A Gem Was Moving Experience

My Memorial Day weekend started at 6AM on Saturday, when the moon was still bright! It was headed towards the horizon as I was headed down Willow Pass Road in Concord, and it made for this pretty sight:

I knew I was right where I wanted to be when I saw the road was blocked off and a small audience (most of its members with hot coffee in hand on the chilly street) was beginning to gather.

 

Cameras and heads were turned toward the star of the show: The Masonic Temple, 

formerly of 1765 Galindo Street, Concord, CA. 

It sat about 200 feet away from where it stood since 1927,  just the day before, now on hydraulic trucks, and was ready on its mark to start the show.

Across Clayton Road, the supporting cast, including a new foundation and 

and reliable "Big Red" owned by Montgomery Contractors, were in their places. An organized tangle of steel cables were pulled taut and the show began with a few honks from Big Red. 

Slowly and surely, Big Red began to move the creaking 300 ton building. The stage crew fussed and hovered as they continually ran around and even UNDER the building like protective parents. They watched every move as it inched along the planned-months-in-advance path. 

Cracks formed in the plaster, hydraulics burst and a rubbernecker caused an auto accident one block west as the sun rose on the scene, but the show must go on...

Big Red had hauled the 9600 sq. foot facility to the halfway point without an intermission, and wasn't about to get blinded by the footlights now.

Leave it to the one woman on the crew to expertly direct the supporting cast as to where the temple should be placed right next to the (shameless plug!) lovely Galindo House, which is open for tours (and generous donations!) on Wednesdays from 1 - 4 PM!

Fini! A round of applause for the Concord Historical Society, Montgomery Contractors and those who voted to save the temple! It was a wonderful show! I hope one day I will be able to see the sequel, starring this gem of a building! 

You Can't Go Home Again, But You Can Walk Through The Neighborhood

This is the street where I grew up in Pleasant Hill, CA. 

Although the house where I lived has been remodeled, it's still there and it looks better than ever. Some things have changed but enough of the area has stayed the same to give me the comfort of familiarity. 

There are a few 300 year old oaks that still reach up to the sky. As a kid I knew every smooth branch in the the buckeye trees. Which ones were strong enough to bounce on, which tree had branches spaced like a spiral ladder leading to a good spot to eat lunch. Which ones could be wrapped with an old canvas to form a tent. 

I've been spending a lot of time in the old neighborhood lately--my parents still live there and they have been getting more visits from all us "kids" more often. This makes them and their dog very happy as my visits usually include a walk up the hill with him. 

I used to walk to high school this way every day. It was where I took my first photo for my photography class. (Thanks Mr. Odegard!)

It was where I shared secrets with my best friend as we walked along (while smoking our first cigarette!), and made plans to live in the hills like Indians.  I didn't get that bow and arrow set for Christmas, so that plan sort of fell through. 

My family lived near the Contra Costa Canal system. We had the use of well water for our yard, although we had to take, what seemed like a long hike as a kid, up the hill to manually divert the water on and off.  It was always my dad and I that went together to handle the task at this now bolted-down cover. 

The wild flowers from the generation of seeds of my youth still grow in the hard and dry adobe soil. They remind me that I am only a witness to their blooms. That my life is limited; they will still (hopefully) be here after I'm gone, giving comfort to the next generation.