APPENDIX C

My song bibliography

I have no talent whatsoever for writing tunes, and only a minimal amount for playing them. But give me a catchy tune, and I can write new lyrics to commemorate a person or event. Over the years I’ve composed a number of songs, at least six of which I actually performed in public (um, once – those are marked with an asterisk (*) … while #18 appeared in a Facebook video). The first three songs date to when I was about 14, so they are not what you might call sophisticated. In fact, calling them sophomoric would be an overstatement, as I wrote them as a freshman in high school, so you might wish to skip right over them. The only reason why I’m including them is my OC behavior – I want this bibliography to be unabridged, warts and all. As to the others, well, I think they are more or less clever (including the footnotes!).

TITLES

1. The One on the Right Fights on the Left

2. National Anthem of the People’s Republic of Old Crow

3. National Anthem of the Republic of BLAH

4. I Was Walkin’ on the Lava*

5. Dahlsten Duck*

6. Hello Nancy, Hello B.J.

7. Dem Talkin’ Car Blues

8. Aloha Anchor Bay

9. All Souls, the Old Church*

10. Dem Taxonomic, Intergrading, Microscopic, Polymorphic Blues

11. France, France

12. When There’s Monsters Around

13. Let Us Go to the Big Game*

14. Mendocino*

15. Young McGarrity*

16. Farewell to Windows

17. Baccharis, Bay and Oak

18. Fourteen Days of Quarantine

1. THE ONE ON THE RIGHT FIGHTS ON THE LEFT (Summer of 1967)

(to the tune The One on the Right is on the Left, by Jack Clement)

This is the first of a trilogy of songs from the “Great Wars” in the summer school algebra class taught by Mrs. Anderson, the main combatants being Bob Black (class of 1970), Wally Crow (’69), Don Kennedy (’69), and myself (’71) (as reported in Chapter 3, section 2). This song reflects the tendency of each country to easily trade allies for foes, and Bob Black’s “banishment” to the other side of the room when caught (treated as an island in “The Great Ocean of Wastes”).

The one on the right, fights on the left

and the one in the middle fights on the right

The one on the left fights in the middle

and the guy in the rear

Fights ‘em all.

Well the peace had ascended,

A hush fell on the crowd,

As armies were there gathered,

To do the worst they knew how.

But they meddled in spit wads and rubber bands

And soon came the big decision

When everybody was wounded,

Except BLAH, who was missin’.

The one on the right was on the bottom

and the one in the middle was on the top

The one on the left got a lesson in war,

and the guy in the rear,

was devastated.

Well, this should be a lesson,

if you plan to start a country,

Don’t go mixin’ spit wads

with the studies of your class.

Just work on communiqués and notes,

leave the spit wads alone.

And if you find a secret weapon,

Get rid of it at home.

The one on the left, works on his math1

and the one in the middle drives a car2.

The one on the right takes photographs3,

and the guy in the rear4,

lives on an island.

1. Yours truly

2. Don Kennedy

3. Wally Crow

4. Bob Black

2. NATIONAL ANTHEM OF THE PEOPLE’S REPUBLIC OF OLD CROW (Summer of 1967)

(to the tune Bottle of Wine, sung by the Fireballs)

Wally chose  Bottle of Wine for his country’s anthem as it stood, but I thought the lyrics could be improved with a nod to PROC’s defeat in the 3rd Great War.

Republic of ROC, U F R

When you going to let me come over?

Leave me alone, let me come home,

let me come home and start over.

Rambling around this dirty old desk,

singing for ‘wads and bands.

Times get rough,

I ain’t got enough,

Hand me a bottle of wine.

Republic of ROC, U F R

When you going to let me come over?

Leave me alone, let me come home,

let me come home and start over.

3. NATIONAL ANTHEM OF THE REPUBLIC OF BLAH (Summer of 1967)

(to the tune King of the Road by Roger Miller)

Inspired by the dramatic exiling of Bob Black to the far side of the room.

Countries for sale to ROT1

Islands are my kind of plot

No food, no men to spare,

ain’t got no unwhitened hairs.

Two hours of running mad

brings me here with the money I had

I’m a man of means by no means,

King of the Road.

I know every single pilot, on every plane,

and all of the runners, and all of their names

And every hideout in every bar

And every bum that ain’t stoned, and then some who are.

I drink Old Crow that I have found

Bad, but not too much around

I’m a man of means by no means

King of the Road.

Countries for sale to ROT

Islands are my kind of plot

No food, no men to spare,

ain’t got no unwhitened hairs.

Two hours of running mad

brings me here with the money I had

I’m a man of means by no means,

King of the Road.

1. Acronym for the Republic of Tressell, Gary Tressell’s (’70) country, who, like the countries of Scott Downs (’69) and Bill Unruh (’70), were referred to during the conflicts, although those people had no significant involvement therein.

4. I WAS WALKIN’ ON THE LAVA (March, 1993)

(to the tune I Was Working on the Railroad, traditional)

This work was composed at the Kalani Hanua, on the big island of Hawaii. I was there with a group of Scottish country dancers, enjoying a tour package organized by Ken McFarland. The dancers slept in three separate buildings (Halle 2, 3 and 4), and it was suggested that the people from each building contribute a dance or act, to be judged by Kim McGarrity and the rest of the band during a ceilidh (bribing the judges was encouraged). This was my contribution, based on the TRUE FACTS that occurred during a walk my wife Carolynn and I had taken with Kim and Lyle Ramshaw.

I was walking on the lava

On a bright Hawaiian day

I was walking on the lava

When I heard my friend Kim say:

Don’t you hear that bee a-buzzin’?1

Mean and as black as the sand2

I said “Kimmie I’m a-comin’ “

with my trusty net in hand.3

Kimmie don’t be scared

Kimmie don’t be scared

Kimmie don’t be scared

of that bee-ee-ee

Kimmie don’t be scared

Kimmie don’t be scared

She’ll never get past B.Z.

Something in the air is buzzin’

Nothing is buzzin’ no more-or-or-or

Something in the net is dead and pinned:

Compliments of Halle Four.4

1. Actually, it was probably a fly.

2. Yes, there are black sand beaches in Hawaii.

3. Of course I bring an insect net with me on vacations – doesn’t everybody?

4. Alas, this attempt to curry favor with the judges failed to sway their decision.

5. DAHLSTEN DUCK (December, 1993)

(to the tune My Darling Clementine, traditional)

Dr. Donald Dahlsten was my major professor during my graduate career at U.C. Berkeley. He had long since acquired the epithet “duck”, partly due to the similarity between his name and that of the cartoon character Donald Duck, but also reflective of his love of birds and many years of research banding mountain chickadees and bush-tits. For a party commemorating his 60th birthday, guests were asked to contribute “a gift of memory”, and this was mine.

In an office

In a college

Whose colors are blue and gold1,

Dwelt a doctor,

Major professor

And he’s really, really old.

Oh my Donald,

Oh my Donald,

Oh my Donald Dahlsten Duck,

You have scars and

You have wounds and

A dent in your new white truck2.

Up in Modoc,

Swatting skeeters

Banding birdies like bushtits,

Cameras filming

While they’re eating

Now you know just what they ______.

Oh my Donald,

Oh my Donald,

Oh my Donald Dahlsten Duck,

Camera boxes

Without lock-ses

And a flat on your new white truck.

Itchy tussock moth3,

And those beetles

Excavating in the bark4,

Counting Tomicobia5

Till you get myopia,

When everything then gets dark.

Oh my Donald,

Oh my Donald,

Oh my Donald Dahlsten Duck

Are you limber,

Can you remember

Where you parked your new white truck?

Sticky aphids6,

Stinky beetles7

Chewing elms like Swiss cheese,

Can you save them?

“Hell, just spray ’em!

Then let’s plant some plastic trees.”

Oh my Donald,

Oh my Donald,

Oh my Donald Dahlsten Duck

Ain’t it funny?

Workin’ for Disney,

Just like that other white duck.

In the trenches,

Up on campus,

Fightin’ battles till your face is pink

Biocontrol

Like the dodo,

Has just about gone extinct8

Oh my Donald,

Oh my Donald,

Oh my Donald Dahlsten Duck

Who can blame you

Drinking claret9 to

Celebrate your life and luck.

1. Cal.

2. A Ford, if memory serves.

3. Orgyia leucostigma (Smith, 1797) (Lepidoptera: Erebidae).

4. Several species of bark beetles (Coleoptera: Curculionidae).

5. A parasitoid (Hymenoptera: Pteromalidae) of them.

6. Mostly the tuliptree aphid, Illinoia liriodendri (Monell, 1879) and linden aphid (Eucallipterus tiliae Linnaeus, 1758), both Hemiptera: Aphididae, whose honeydew production on urban street trees was a major problem.

7. The elm leaf beetle, Xanthogaleruca luteola (Muller, 1776) (Coleoptera: Chrysomelidae), in the prepupal and pupal stages will often congregate at the base of elm trees, or in nearby structures, and can be quite odiferous.

8. Cutbacks in the early 1990s led to a great reduction in the Division of Biological Control, located at the Gill Tract in Albany.

9. Don was a lover of fine wines.

6. HELLO NANCY, HELLO B.J. (April, 1994)

 (a parody of Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah by Allan Sherman)

Nancy Niederer was the partner of my wife in a veterinary practice – each had accumulated quite a menagerie of pets. When Nancy left California to visit North Carolina, she took her dog B.J with her, but temporarily left her cat, Rosie O’Riley, with us. Carolynn suggested modifying this letter home by Allan Sherman.

Hello Nancy, Hello B. J.

Here I am at

Camp Chez Harvey.

Camp is very interesting

You won’t believe

the things they have here nesting.

When you get here,

you meet Maya1.

To the people

she says “Hi-ya”.

But for us cats

Her thoughts are dimmer:

as the main course for

breakfast, lunch and dinner2.

There’s a brown dog.

He’s called Rusty3.

With a deep growl

that’s so lusty.

He seems so fierce;

that’s a cover-

just glance at him and

watch him roll right over.

Take me home,

Oh Mistress Nancy.

Take me home,

with nothing fancy.

Don’t leave me

in this big old house where

they have a

huge…brass…hare!4

And then upstairs,

if you go forth

just look out for

two strange lagomorphs5.

What they chew on

is amazin’:

not just crackers

but the box they came in.

And of course there’s

a weird grey cat6.

Who won’t back down

E’en when stared at.

He keeps circling

round to his right,

and I just can’t reach him

for a good bite.

Now the humans,

they’re the limit.

One takes a bug

then he pins it!7

There’s a small man8

with some white hair.

He will call for me

but I just really don’t care.

But the worst is

this one female9.

With her clipping

all my toenails.

There’s this hypo

she’s always pushin’.

Does she think I’m just

a black and white pin cushion?

Wait a minute:

what’s that I hear?

Sounds like kibble-

could be dinner!

Pretty tasty,

nothin’ finer:

Mistress, have a nice flight

back to Carolina!

1. A wonderful Brittany spaniel mix, whose only problem was motion sickness during car rides.

2. Not really, just a case of poetic license – she really was a wonderful dog … well, except for throwing up in the car (see 1).

3. A terrier mix who was fascinated by, and afraid of, almost everything. Upon passing us on a walk one day, a woman exclaimed “Oh my, a hairy-mouth heeler – they make the greatest dogs!”

4. Not a real pet – just a piece of artwork.

5. Spencer (a remarkably handsome gray rabbit, whose dignified presence reminded us of Spencer Tracy) and Abbey (Road), his first mate. My how they loved to chew cardboard.

6. A cat that was staying with us temporarily, who suffered from neurological problems.

7. Guess who.

8. Carolynn’s father, Harold “Spike” Harvey

9. My (really!) lovely and caring wife – sometimes pets just don’t see us in the way we wish they would.

7. DEM TALKIN’ CAR BLUES (May, 1994)

(spoken, not sung)

 One of my favorite radio programs was N.P.R.’s Car Talk, hosted by Tom and Ray Magliozzi. I sent the following to them in June 1994, but it must have gotten lost in the mail, as I never heard back from them.

You say your car won’t start:

it’s busted dead.

Your brother-in-law

says it’s the piston-head.

Your next-door neighbor

Claims its underuse,

while your spouse thinks it’s you

with the screw that’s loose.

What do you do?

You’re stuck at home.

 With a half-ton motor

on your big toe bone.

Well listen to me,

I’ll set you wise,

just give a call

to those two car guys.

They’re from a fair city

and called Tom and Ray.

They have other names,

but I just can’t say,

who is whom,

nor how they spell ’em .

(I think they’re missing

both their cerebellums).

You’ll learn the best buys.

For cars used and new

Like Jaguar X-J-S

V-12 slash dark blue.

Their own cars are classics,

some say real cuties.

‘Course the crusher got one:

the former sleek black beauty.

They address all queries

with answers quite long.

And they don’t seem to care

If they’re right or wrong.

They note key facts,

with questions many.

Like “What was the color?”

“Was the tank half-empty?”

They expound in depth

on automotive themes .

But then they go on

to consider all things:

Psychology ‘n physics

 and history – don’t laugh.

Haven’t you read

their short monograph?

If you want to hear

Something really eerie,

Listen for Ray’s

“Roof-snow theory”

Or try to understand,

you who roam,

the importance thereof

Foreign language syndrome.

Besides these subjects,

new or folkloric

they specially love

those geographic.

“Each state has a Springfield”,

such facts we should know.

But when did they move

the Alamo?

A puzzler each week

poses questions so that

you may win a fab prize

……like a book or a hat.

Who would hire these guys?

Some exec below par?

Could this be the end

of the NPR?

But they’re not friendless:

that’s just a myth.

They’ve lots of great pals, …

like ‘ole Roger Smith.

And each week anew,

tune in fans so many,

(as strange as that tutu

of dear Sonia Henning).

Moreover, they offer

(for a summer break)

a picnic each year.

.Where you can bring or take

your family to see

their old alma mater.

Complete with a ride

in Tommy’s Dodge Dartra.

With Dougie and sweet-cheeks,

and the missing Ms. Loeb.

They’re very well staffed,

of that I’m so told.

So trust all their answers,

and don’t have a cow.

You don’t want to tangle with

Dewey, Cheatham and Howe.1

1. I’m not going to bother footnoting ALL the references in the song. If you heard the show, you know what I’m talking about. If you haven’t, then don’t bother – go on ahead to the next song.

8. ALOHA ANCHOR BAY (August, 1994)

(to the tune Creeque Alley, by the Mamas and Papas)

My favorite local radio personality was Gene Nelson. I first heard him on KYA in the 1960s, but he ended up on KSFO. He billed himself as the “Emperor”, a well deserved title as he was probably the best morning AM radio DJ around, and his loyal fans became the “Royal Commandos” (with their own air force). In 1994, KSFO radio changed its broadcast format, and canceled the Emperor and the other talk shows. He took this opportunity to retire from radio and move to Kauai, Hawaii, a place he had long loved.

Original dedication: In honor of our beloved Emperor, with grateful thanks for his many years of entertaining and befriending us.

Dave and Ginny1

Were sounding sort of tinny

But that’s the way

it is with A. M.

Uncle Gene’s body

Not perfect but not shoddy

He’s our beloved

bright morning gem.

And in a big bus Madden sat2

And at every town

He’d ask for a cap.

Red Baron the flyboy3

never sounding too coy

telling us where

the traffic is at.

And the commandoes saying “Drat”!

won’t Gene come back?

G. Gordon Liddy4

was feeling sort of giddy

at the thought of

Bill and Hillary.

Burns taking his dig5

“Government is too big,

give us some more liberty”.

And in the fun zone Collins reigns6

leaning to the left, but

what became of his mane?

After almost one year

Peter B. is still here

but KGO is his new bane.

And we’ll be raising Cain

till Gene comes back.

Jackhammers, Spunkmeyers,

Chickenman, crowing hen

And of course there’s always

Charlotte from Pinole7.

Thirty years, Dakota tears,

Coral Sea, Iniki8

The little missus phoning by toll.9

And back here by SF Bay,

we’ll have to make due

with some other D.J.

Henderson and Prior1

Hoping the new buyer

will still see things their old way.

God speed, good luck. And hey!

Gene please come back.

`1. Dave Henderson and Ginny Prior were news reporters for the station.

2. Bill Madden, the former Oakland Raiders coach, eschewed flying and drove or took buses everywhere.

3. The “Red Baron” was the traffic reporter whose name I never knew.

4. G. Gordon Liddy (YES, the guy associated with Watergate) was one of the on air hosts – Bill and Hillary are the Clintons, who were common targets of his).

5. Gene Burns espoused a Libertarian political viewpoint and hosted the “Dining around with Gene Burns” segment.

6. I knew Peter B. Collins had a segment called “the fun zone”, but I never actually listened to it.

7. “Charlotte from Pinole” was one of his most common callers.

8. A hurricane that devastated Kauai in 1992.

9. Gene used to bemoan that his wife was always making long-distance phone calls while he was on the air. On the show, he’d occasionally dial his home telephone number, and sure enough, we all heard the busy signal.

9. ALL SOULS, THE OLD CHURCH (September, 1994)

(to the tune The Irish Washerwoman, traditional)

When I started Scottish Country Dancing in 1973, the Berkeley class met in the “library” of All Soul’s Church at the corner of Spruce and Cedar Streets. This was a wonderful room, but unfortunately we lost it as a dance site a few years later. However, in 1994 the Berkeley class was able to start using it again, and held a special party, inviting dancers and musicians back from “the old days”. I chose to recall these days in song. (Published in The Reel & Strathspeyer, September-October 1994, volume 31, number 1; listed in Appendix V, part 2).

All Souls, the old church.

It was the site

of dancing every

Friday night.

The Berkeley class

where lad met lass.

Och! The magic of

Friday night.

The floor was wood

the pillars were too.

The latter were used

when dancers were few.

Though collisions we had

we never got mad.

‘Twas better than

sitting alone and blue.

The kitchen was full

with so much chatterin’.

The teachers irate

at all the natterin’.

But happy they were

when they were served

choc’late chip cookies

from the oven.1

The ruckus we’d raised

the neighbor would hear.

And quick as a flash

he’d then appear.

Are we in a muck?

No we’re in luck!

‘Tis Howard our own

class manager.2

Lynda3, she taught,

with Mark4 and Ken5,

the slow strathspeys.

We danced till then

we kicked up our heels

for jigs and reels.

And shouted out:

“Let’s have it again!”.

We would turn by the right

and then by the left.

But to our dismay

we’d have to pousette.

My kilt got caught

when I did the knot.

I’ll never try that

again on a bet.

We did Cadgers and Kail

and Balquidder and Buchan,

The Flowers and flirted

with J. McAlpin’

We dealt with the Tailor

And skipped to the Sailor

And ‘course the Red House,

again and again.

And to play for us all

we had such a band.

Cabbage they’re called

and in such demand.

At weddings and balls

we filled all the halls

to hear the music

they played so grand.

There was Patty6 and Jane7,

and Robert8 and Caryn9,

and Margo10 and Vaughn11,

Ken12, Paul13, Will14 and Karen15,

with Carol16 and Roy17,

exuding such joy,

all lead by Barbara’s18

sweet violin.

Such were the times

now left in the lurch.

We’ve all gone away

and despite our search,

could not ever find

a place so kind

as that of dear

All Souls, the old church.

1. I would prepare Reality© cookie mix (see Chapter 4) at home, and bake them in the Church’s oven, so they were fresh and still WARM when served during refreshments.

2. Yes, Howard Ervin, our class manager, lived right across the street from the church.

3. Lynda Long; in comparison to Howard, she commuted in from San Francisco; before she married and acquired a new last name (Korsan), Caedmon Irias** composed a 48 bar jig in her honor, entitled Lynda Long’s jig. Caedmon was one of five children of Julian and Linda Irias, all of which were introduced to SCDing in San Francisco – the family could almost form an entire set by themselves.

4. Mark Post; he also commuted in from the City.

5. Ken McFarland; ditto!

6. Patty Rosenmeyer (flute); also Carolynn’s next door neighbor when growing up.

7. Jane Landstra (violin, bass and hammer dulcimer); married to Ken Embrey.

8. Robert McOwen (guitar, mandolin, bass); Barbara’s inamorata and a 5 star member of the NCRSCH (Chapter 4).

9. Caryn Palmer (flute); related by marriage to Sheena’s family via Kevin Lesko, another 5 star NCRSCH member (Chapter 4).

10. Margo Leslie (violin)

11. Vaughn Wolff (violin); from San Jose where (in the “It’s a Small World Department”), he knew my war gaming pal from high school, Kurt Teubner (they both worked for the telephone company there).

12. Ken Embrey (Hardanger fiddle, bass, banjo, concertina); married to Jane.

13. Paul Machlis (piano); a composer of several tunes, compiled in a booklet The Sands of Asilomar©, published by Cabbage Records; I have still have several copies in my basement, available for $8.00 each.

14. Will German (mandolin).

15. Karen Nelson (violin, viola).

16. Carol Ginsberg (flute, piccolo).

17. Roy Kaitner (snare drum, penny whistle); later my housemate, and even later, investitured as Brother Seraphim at Mt. Tabor Monastery in Redwood Valley, CA.

18. Barbara Rae Turner Bouwsma McOwen (violin and band leader).

10. DEM TAXONOMIC, INTERGRADING, MICROSCOPIC, POLYMORPHIC BLUES (August, 1995)

(to the tune Stealin’, traditional)

 This was my modest contribution to honor those fearless folks in taxonomy, who risk life and limb in the pursuit of categorizing tiny little critters.

Sittin’ at a scope

counting hairs on veins1

The numbers always changin’

Driving me insane

Maybe it’s the light

or the focus ain’t right

Or it could be just

a tiny speck of dust.

Try to

identify

with characters I cannot use.

‘Cuz they look alike

I got dem

Taxonomic blues.

Traipsing cross-country:

yet another museum.

Hunting for types

with no per diem.

Sittin’ in stuffy rooms,

breathin’ in those fumes.

Lord, that PDB,

it’s a-chokin’ me.

Eyestrain,

and back pain.

My mind I’m beginning to lose.

Cryptic species haunt my dreams2.

I got dem

Taxonomic blues.

Working on this group

for the past eleven years.

My keys and descriptions

are a-spotted with my tears.

Just when I was through

the group was reviewed.

All my names, so prized,

they’re now synonymized3.

Lumpers

and splitters4

both claim I hold the wrong views.

Lord take me now,

I got dem

Taxonomic blues.

1 Specifically for one group of parasitoid wasps in the subfamily Tetrastichinae (Hymenoptera: Eulophidae), determining which genus a specimen belongs to depends on the number of setae (hairs) on the submarginal vein of the forewing … for a specimen whose body length is about 1-2 mm.

2 Cryptic species are two different taxa that are virtually identical upon visual inspection. They may be distinguished by biology (parasitoids with different hosts), or DNA.

3 When someone decides that two (formerly different taxa) are actually the same, the more recently described one of them gets synonymized under the other.

4 The big dichotomy between taxonomists: some people think minor differences are just that, and will “lump” various groups together, whilst others think the differences are important enough to justify “splitting” them into separate taxa.

11. FRANCE, FRANCE (September, 1995)

(to the Shaker tune Simple Gifts, aka Lord of the Dance)

A little ditty I dashed off, signifying nothing, mostly because I love the tune.

France, France,

Where-ever can you be?

For I am flunking

Geography.

France, France,

Where-ever can you be?

So polite are the French:

They all say “May we?”

12. WHEN THERE’S MONSTERS AROUND (March, 1996)

(to the Shaker tune Simple Gifts, aka Lord of the Dance)

In fact, I love the tune so much, I couldn’t resist writing up another – but this turned out to be my first (and only) social commentary song. Dear me!

It’s a trick that’s so simple

It’s a trick that’s so good,

It’s a trick that you learned

In your childhood.

Just shut both your eyes

And don’t make a sound

And then you’ll be safe

When there’s monsters around.

Hide, hide

or run and jump in bed

And pull the covers

over your head.

Just ask no questions

and don’t try to see

And then you’ll be safe,

As safe as can be.

13. LET US GO TO THE BIG GAME (August, 1996)

(to the tune Big C, a UC Berkeley fight song, which was stolen for use by the southern branch of the University that later became UCLA)

During my graduate school days, I become a rabid fan of two sports: Cal football, and Cal men’s rugby.  This song expresses my feelings about the gridiron football games we play against that post-high school level campus in Palo Alto. This song was submitted to California Monthly, the Cal Alumni magazine, in September, 1996, and later to the Daily Cal, but there were no takers. Oh well, their loss.

Let us go to the Big Game,

cross the Bay to the farm.

Horns a-honking,

traffic weaving,

dodging the gendarme.

Hanging out at the campervans,

have a drink or three.

Swillin’ someone’s beer,

leading us a cheer:

“Bearsmen don’t spare that tree!”

Let us go to the Big Game,

climbing Tightwad Hill.

The slope is steep

but the seats are cheap,

and the rules are nil.

List’ning for the cannon shot,

marking another score.

Cal fans be you alert

take off that old red shirt.

Remember your Berkeley lore:

Basking under the Big C,

cheering the Frisbee dog1.

Seat backs – two bucks2

oh no, our luck’s

gone, here comes the fog.

Strutting out bursts the marching band,

not a single foot falls foul.

Such a splendid view,

(prancing tubas too!),

spelling a big script CAL.

Let us go to the Big Game.

Blue and gold lead the way.

Youngsters yelling,

oldsters swelling,

rememb’ring THE PLAY.3

Battles are tough in the Pac Ten4,

it ain’t no game of jacks.

But roses, yes or no …

that’s just a sideshow …

as long as we get that Axe.

1 Years ago, one of the mainstay half time entertainments was a guy throwing Frisbees that his dog caught.

2 Not anymore – I think they are now $20 each.

3 1982: five laterals on the last play of the game, marking one of the most memorable events ever in college football history.

4 Alas, this has gone the way of the dodo as well. The conference went to 12 teams in 2011, and then down to two (WSU and OSU) in 2023, after U$C and UCLA led the charge to exit the league looking for greener monetary pastures further east.

14. MENDOCINO (August, 1998)

(to the tune Freres Jacques, French nursery rhyme)

Mendocino Woodlands is a campsite located in the redwoods about 8 miles east of the town of Mendocino. Several dance summer camps are held here, including some for Scottish Country Dancing. I wrote this round as a ceilidh act for the 1998 Scottish camp, to commemorate the fabulous food, grand music, … and a power outage that occurred during the middle of a dance party.

Mendocino, Mendocino

Tasty food, tasty food

Music at all hours

WHERE THE HELL’S THE POWER?

Redwoods too, redwoods too.

15. YOUNG McGARRITY (September, 1998)

(to the tune La Bastringue (A part only), traditional)

Kim McGarrity was one of my dearest friends, whom I met through Scottish Country Dancing. She passed away in July, 1998, leading me to write this in her memory. Once when we travelled together in New England, we saw a televised P.G. Wodehouse story about a young engaged couple wherein the chap referred to his fiancée as “young Packard”. We thought this a great thing to call your one true love, and since that time would call each other “young Zuparko”, and “young McGarrity”. The song was published in the November/December 1998 issue of The Reel & Strathspeyer (volume 35, no. 2).

First met Kim in San Francisco.

Coffee can1

in her window.

Out to Bill’s Place we would go2,

burger and drinks

on the patio.

She and my car had a bad spell.

Dented roof,3

I thee tell.

Spilt coffee in the spare tire well4,

broke off mirror5,

-what the hell?

But she was a fellow Gemini

(Maria too)6.

Maybe that’s why,

we’d always see eye-to-eye

however much time

had passed on by.

As editor of the San

Francisco’s Peyper7

(a select clan!).

She devised a clever plan,

volunteered to find

the most huggable man8.

At various weddings we were:

She played at mine,

I spoke at hers.

As best man and maid of honor

for Barbara and Bob9

we happily served.

We walked on lava in Ha-wai-i,

– met a fierce,

big black bee10.

Lounging by the deep blue sea

with taro chips

and Pictionary.

Trips ‘n talks, so many had we,

backrubs and

Dunkin’ Donuts coffee11.

Happy times in my memory:

of a dear friend, young

… McGarrity.

1 The counterweight for the window in the front of her apartment was broken, so she jammed an empty can of Folgers coffee there to prop it open.

2 One of the best burger places was the original Bill’s place on Clement Street near 23rd Avenue, in the City, which had a nice garden out in the back, if the chandeliered main room was too crowded. Kim was the only person I knew who would order three different drinks for one meal.

3 Once on our way to Bill’s place for lunch, Kim realized she had left her keys behind. So we immediately returned to her apartment, parking my Honda Civic in the driveway, directly under that front window mentioned in 1. I climbed up on the top my car, getting on my hands and knees. Thus Kim was able to climb on me, and reach the window to gain access to her place. In fact, she did it so expertly, I suspected this wasn’t the first time she had to resort to this method. In any case, my car ended up with a dented roof.

4 As detailed in Chapter 4.

5 Ah, my poor Honda Civic. At a Scottish dance camp at Mendocino, one evening I gave a lift to three musicians (Kim, Barbara McOwen, and, I think, Janet Kurnick) into the town of Mendocino. Kim was in the back seat and decided she needed to adjust the mirror in the front window … and it came off in her hands.

6 Kim, our mutual friend Maria Corse, and I were all born under the sign of the twins.

7 In 1977, Kim succeeded me as editor of The Reel & Strathspeyer.

8 That was Kim, selfless to a fault.

9 The McOwens – Kim knew Robert before either of them moved up to the Bay Area.

10 As reported previously in I was walkin’ on the lava.

11 I liked Dunkin’ Donuts for, well, their doughnuts. Kim liked it for their coffee.

16. FAREWELL TO WINDOWS (January, 2002)

(To the tune: So Long, It’s Been Good to Know Yuh, by Woody Guthrie)

One of my jobs was in the Department of Entomology at the California Academy of Sciences, in Golden Gate Park. We considered ourselves lucky, because all the staff have offices on the second floor which look out upon the lovely trees and greenery of the park. Then we learned that the Academy was to be remodeled, after which we’d be in the basement, two floors below ground level, and only the senior curatorial staff would get offices with windows, leading to this lament.

Sing Hey Ho.

Farewell to windows.

Hey, ho.

Farewell to windows

Hey, ho,

it’s farewell to windows:

Time to pack up our stuff

And head for a room …

as dark as a tomb.

(tomb, tomb, dark as a tomb, tomb, tomb)

Sing Hey Ho.

Farewell to windows.

Hey, ho.

Farewell to windows.

Hey, ho,

it’s farewell to windows:

wipe that tear from your eye

and just say goodbye …

to the beautiful sky.

(sky, sky, beautiful sky, sky, sky)

Sing Hey Ho.

Farewell to windows.

Hey, ho.

Farewell to windows.

Hey, ho,

it’s farewell to windows:

we used to bask in the

bright sunny light …

now it’ll always be night.

(night, night, always be night, night, night).

Sing Hey Ho.

Farewell to windows.

Hey, ho.

Farewell to windows.

Hey, ho,

its farewell to windows:

what’s the use of

a lovely green park …

when you’re stuck in the dark.

(dark, dark, stuck in the dark, dark, dark).

Sing Hey Ho.

Farewell to windows.

Hey, ho.

Farewell to windows

Hey, ho,

it’s farewell to windows:

The Monterey pines

and eucalypt trees …

are gone like the breeze.

(breeze, breeze, gone like the breeze, breeze, breeze)

Sing Hey Ho.

Farewell to windows.

Hey, ho.

Farewell to windows.

Hey, ho,

it’s farewell to windows:

no more misty white fog

swirling Sutro Hill …

now I’m physically ill.

(ill, ill, physically ill, ill, ill.)

Sing Hey Ho.

Farewell to windows.

Hey, ho.

Farewell to windows.

Hey, ho,

it’s farewell to windows:

used to working at

favorable terms …

now we’re down with the worms.

(worms, worms, down with the worms, worms, worms)

Sing Hey Ho.

Farewell to windows.

Hey, ho.

Farewell to windows.

Hey, ho,

it’s farewell to windows:

slackin’ from work watchin’

kids on the grass …

a thing of the past.

(past, past, thing of the past, past, past).1

1 As it turned out, the Department did end up two floors beneath ground level, BUT we had a row of windows along the south wall (looking out upon a “moat”) that let in sunlight and allowed us to see some greenery – so perhaps I should annotate all this with a “Never mind”.

17. BACCHARIS, BAY AND OAK (April, 2002)

(Actually, I guess this is just a poem, as I never found a tune to accompany it.)

I often go insect collecting in the east Bay hills. And although California really is the most biologically diverse state in the Union, I sometimes get exasperated by continuing to find the same species of woody plants in the area, over and over again. So I penned this from the viewpoint of an experienced herbivorous insect, passing on its knowledge to an offspring who intends to migrate west.

I understand you’re tired

from a monotony that peeves,

caused by the continual chewing

of the old familiar trees.

“California’s a paradise”

so say all the folk.

But I’ve been there and tell you plain,

there’s just Baccharis1, bay2 and oak3.

“It’s a land of biodiversity”

– son, that’s just a joke.

What they call the golden state

Is just Baccharis, bay and oak.

You think your mandibles’ mighty

and can handle any bulk,

but they’re no match for foliage

borne by Baccharis, bay and oak.

Those trees are sclerotic and tough

with tannins that’ll make you choke.

No way you can ingest the leaves

of Baccharis, bay and oak.

Though those hills may be green

on many a bright and glorious day,

it’s better to stay here and freeze

then munch on Baccharis, oak and bay.

So heed me well my son

or else you’ll surely croak –

chewing on the foliage

of Baccharis, bay and oak.4

1 Baccharis pilularis de Candolle (Asterales: Asteraceae), aka Coyote brush.

2 Umbellularis californica (Hooker & Arnott) Nuttall (Laurales: Lauraceae), aka California bay, California laurel, and even pepperwood.

3 Quercus agrifolia Nee (Fagales: Fagaceae), aka coast live oak.

4 See footnote #5 from song #1

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18. FOURTEEN DAYS OF QUARANTINE (March, 2020)

(by Zuparko, Zuparko, Cobb & Zuparko)

(to the tune Twelve Days of Christmas, traditional Christmas carol)

Following the global COVID-19 pandemic, people with the virus were asked to self quarantine for two weeks. I decided to commemorate this period with a song, and added two more verses to the traditional twelve of the carol. I incorporated some suggestions from both my brother and wife. I also knew that I wanted to share a recorded version of the song, and since I can’t sing, I asked my SCD friend, and accomplished musician, Patti Cobb if she could make a video for Facebook. She did so, and made another suggestion that improved the song, thus the authorship rightfully extends to four people. To save everyone a lot of time and trouble, I’ve omitted the middle twelve verses here, and present just the first and last ones.  

On the first day of quarantine

 my love gave just in time:

A membership for Amazon Prime.

On the fourteenth day of quarantine

 my love gave just in time:

Fourteen ventilators,

Thirteen cleaning wipes,

Twelve fever strips,

Eleven jugs of Clorox,

Ten takeout coupons,

Nine Purell bottles,

Eight kitten videos,

Seven facial masks,

Six feet of distance,

Five gross of gloves.

Four packs of pasta,

Three soap bars,

Two Charmin’ rolls,

And a membership for Amazon Prime.

Video should be viewable here:

https://www.facebook.com/patti.cobb/videos/10220436764803460/UzpfSTEwNjE2MDcyNjI6MTQ0NzgxMDc3MDc0MDQx

Proceed to Appendix D

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