‘He and I have shared so much.’ How these coworkers became ‘beloved siblings’
Through the years, some of my coworkers have been just that — people with whom I worked, laughed, grumbled and gossiped.
Then they left or I did, and maybe we never saw each other again. Or, if we did, it likely was one of those quick grocery-store encounters over the eggplants, the “Let’s get together soon for lunch” happenstances leading to plans that never materialize.
And then there are those cherished colleagues who stay in our lives forever, among the real treasures of our friendship lottery.
This is a valentine to a couple of mine.
Hearst Castle guide Linda Leaken Nakamura
As I write this, I’m anticipating with great glee a first get-together in a decade with my acquired sister Linda, and her first visit to our Top of the World home.
The Hearst Castle guide worked with us at our Cambria bakery starting about 40 years ago. We had a sisterly bond from the beginning.
Eventually, she moved on to other locations and jobs, ultimately building a successful career and a happily married life in San Francisco.
But somehow, we’ve kept in touch by phone, email and occasional brief get-togethers in the city. We’ve shared many long, loving, laughter-filled, sister-friend conversations about jobs, mothers and families, men, food, news, movies, clothes, diets, hairstyles, the latest celeb encounters and so much more.
Cambrian cartoonist Art Van Rhyn
And then there’s former Cambrian cartoonist Art Van Rhyn. He joined the newspaper’s cadre of freelancers in 1991, soon after I became a reporter there. (I’d already been a freelancer Cambrian/Tribune columnist for a decade.)
Art and his wife, Patty, had moved to Cambria in 1983, and he immediately immersed himself in community activities — including a four-year stint on the Cambria Community Services District’s board of directors.
The Cambrian’s editor asked Art to submit a cartoon, which he did.
“The next week,” Art recalled, “the editor asked me if I’d like to do one a week!” So, he did, more than 1,560 cartoons worth.
On the way, The Cambrian won numerous statewide and national prizes, including the coveted general excellence award from the California Newspaper Publishers Association. (The newspaper had a full-time staff of two.)
Our paper went from a tablet format to a full-sized broadsheet, and then returned to a tab. Our Castles and Cottages section grew and shrank and ultimately was absorbed back into the paper — which itself has shrunk considerably, as has our staff.
The Cambrian moved twice, and then the office closed.
During all that, Art’s ’toons made us laugh, made us cry, occasionally made us mad and most of all, made us think.
Art’s final cartoon ran in The Cambrian’s Feb. 6 edition.
Realizing the dream
Art says now that he’d dreamed of being a cartoonist since he was a kid drawing funny faces in his notebook.
But life went in other directions, and he spent decades working as a Caltrans engineer. He never lost sight of his dream, however, and went back to Cal State Northridge, earning bachelor’s and master’s degrees in art.
That major “amazed my coworkers, who felt I should be doing something to further my career,” Art recalled. “But I didn’t want to go any higher at Caltrans, into management. I don’t like meetings and being tied up with memos. I liked digging holes, pouring pavement, creating things.”
He explained that, as an adult at college, “I discovered what I really wanted to be when I grew up: An artist.”
And so he is, both in fine art and cartooning.
In Cambria, Art “tackled watercolors,” a notoriously tricky medium. “I loved it, and was just having a ball,” he said.
He launched the Wednesday Irregulars, a loosely organized group of plein air painters who, each week, select a North Coast location or area and make art there. They’re also known for their generosity; nearly every North Coast fundraiser and auction includes donations from Irregulars artists.
Art branched out into other mediums, some of them eccentric. He was active in the Allied Arts Association and started the eccentric annual Prefix 927 art show, which ran for more than a quarter century.
He joined Greenspace — The Cambria Land Trust early on and is still actively involved with the conservation nonprofit. He also organized weekly music-making sessions with the Center Street Mercantile & Blacksmiths’ String Band.
Memories
Art’s recent retirement is a huge loss to the paper, the community it serves and those of us who love his quirky creativity, humor and unerring ability to draw a few lines and make it absolutely obvious who he was skewering that week.
His frequent alter ego in the cartoons, Mrs. Fosdike, gave us a glimpse of what it would be like in our crotchety golden years.
Having Art in my life is like having a fun older brother. He and I have shared so much, some of it deeply significant.
For instance, in the mid-1980s, he and Patty fervently fostered my writer-mother’s latent talent as a sculptor, a creative skill that I’m sure helped keep Mom enthusiastically alive for years after her cancer prognosis had run out.
But my most vividly poignant memory of Art was on the morning after a devastating fire that destroyed the Tanner home in 1994. We found him inside the destroyed shell of our house, wearing his Caltrans hard hat and independently shoring up what was left of our kitchen so we could safely go in and retrieve anything that had survived the inferno.
We unearthed many things that day, but the most valuable thing we found was the love of a kind coworker, dear friend and adopted brother.
Happy Valentine’s Day to Art, Linda and my other acquired brothers and sisters! How lucky am I!
Thanks for the laughter and hugs, for years of memories and for the conversations we would put on pause and then, months later, pick up again right where we left off.
Most of all, thanks for being coworkers who became beloved siblings.
This story was originally published February 10, 2020 at 3:13 PM.
