Walkin' with Joaquin

It’s one of those sunny spring mornings where I can’t wait to get out of the car and start walking. I bring my phone, mask, and tea, actually not tea but a warm unsweetened organic soy milk fortified with alfalfa, beet powder, and chia seeds, full of all the things my changing body thinks are yummy these days.  Often as I wander the Park I think about the hikers of 100 years ago, 150, 200 years, 500 years. I wonder how the Ohlone enjoyed their tea? Certainly not walking around with a plastic cup. (Actually mine isn’t plastic; it’s made from wheat fiber and magic with a rubber lid and it will decay in my lifetime. $5.49 at Whole Foods .) How the heck did they even boil water without iron pots? In deer hides? In baskets? In abalone shells? I’d read about native hot pots—they’d put hot stones in water to heat it up. The Oakland Museum only has one Ohlone basket; they took years to make and were burned with their users.  When I come to the bottom of the hill, I come to the bottom of my cup

Today I met Ann Schlader of the Schlader family, who have been the showrunners and guardians of the Woodminster Theater since 1967. She was hoping I was someone coming to take away some furniture…it’s cleanup season backstage, and there was a leak in the costume closet, so all the costumes came out into for air. Ann swept her arm, gesturing at two dozen boxes of shoes and boots, scarves and sweaters, jackets with bric-a-brac, getting ready to donate costumes to another theater company. There are crochet yente shawls from Fiddler on the Roof, Delta Nu screenprinted sweatshirts from Legally Blonde, odd fripperies from Seussical, and a box of bustles. (If you’re interested, let Ann know !)  As we pawed through racks of sweaters, furs, capes, and dresses, I said, “Wouldn’t it be great if Oakland had a central warehouse where local theaters could come borrow costumes?”  Her face lit up. “Like down in Alameda.” Yes, where the antique auctions are.  I told her I’d once gone on a secret back