Sleepless in SLO County: Early mornings conjure up memories of cakes, kindness
There’s something about being wide awake at 4 a.m. that leads to thoughts wandering down unrelated paths — some of which are disturbing, like coronavirus-inspired nightmares.
Other paths are creative, and some involve mental list-making.
The best ones, of course, are uplifting and grateful.
And there’s always the voice at the back of my mind telling me to “Go back to sleep, stupid!”
I really try to ignore any upsetting or downer thoughts, steering myself in another direction ASAP. As author and life cheerleader Leo Buscaglia wrote, “Worry never robs tomorrow of its sorrow; it only saps today of its joy.”
List making should be simplified because I keep a pad and pen by my bed.
Of course, the next morning, the eternal challenge is reading what I wrote in the dark. “Embroider purple muffins on Toyota” doesn’t make much sense, does it?
Creativity can get me into trouble in much the same way. I’ll have a flash of brilliance about a story or column topic or a new way to fix those dull chicken breasts for dinner. I’ll write down my light bulb moment and then — sigh — suffer through the decipher game the next day.
If I was smart, I’d get up, turn on the computer and put the idea down on my running list of notes for the week. Most times I don’t, because I know that by the time I do that, I’ll be really, truly awake for the foreseeable future, and I might as well start working.
Focusing on the upbeat, especially the kindness of others, is the most calming option.
Fortunately, living in San Luis Obispo County, kindness comes from all directions, in so many ways.
That’s been especially true during these troubling, uncertain times.
People are shopping and doing errands for frail friends and neighbors. Women are sewing face masks to give away to essential workers.
Communities are banding together to sponsor socially distant fundraisers and benefits, and finding ways to feed those who are temporarily jobless.
I’ve received so many kindnesses lately:
• A Mothers’ Day bouquet of the largest, most beautiful irises I’d ever seen.
• A vase of get-well flowers from my co-workers.
• An orchid plant from the salon owner whose daughter hopefully will be able to cut my hair again soon, 15 years after Mom used to do it every three weeks.
• Charming cards and little gifts.
• Near-daily check-ins to see how we’re doing.
And then there was another act of kindness from someone I didn’t even know.
Linda Graham of Nipomo sent me an email, saying, “I grew up in Cambria. My parents were Tom and Lou Neff. My dad was a long-time maintenance superintendent for the division of highways and was known locally as Mr. Highway 1.
“As we’re ‘hunkering down,’ my husband and I are going through my parents’ memorabilia to try and whittle down the boxes which have been gathering dust in our garage since my mother’s death in 1999.
“We came across a rendering and the contract for the cake which you made for the 50th anniversary of the highway. Thought you might like it.”
Of course, I wanted it, I told her quickly! All our files and souvenirs from that 1987 event were destroyed in a house fire.
I have fond memories of Linda’s parents and working with Tom on several occasions, including the 1984 reopening of Highway 1. That was another cake to remember; it was a 52-foot-long, ribbon-and-bow-shaped carrot cake made for the ribbon-cutting ceremony.
Soon, Linda mailed to us Jan French’s artistic rendering of the 470-pound, 10-tier anniversary cake and a copy of our 1987 press release about it.
My mind instantly jumped back more than three decades.
Fifty individual cakes made up the massive dessert, which was decorated to represent the Carmel-to-Cambria link of Highway 1, encircled by a winding representation of the scenic highway between the two communities.
The decorations echoed the viewshed — from the sand and turf to the sky. The cake was studded with tiny whales and otters, pieces of real jade, Cambria moonstones and jasper, icing trees and fresh California flowers.
I also remember painfully well the laborious three-day job it was to make that cake.
U.S. Rep. Leon Panetta did the official cake-cutting duties that day.
I tell myself that those are the kind of points to ponder during the wee hours — lovely memories and the kindness of dear friends and a generous stranger who wanted to share a piece of her father’s history with someone who had experienced it with him.
Now, if my mind would just listen to me at 4 a.m.
