Ode to Gary

On our first trip to Pescadero  Cappi magically stumbled upon what became a cheap place by the sea for us to stay and the beginnings of a friendship with an extraordinary man..  The place looked quiet, except for the barking dog who greeted us followed by an elderly blue-eyed man who shuffled his way out to the driveway.  That was our introduction to Gary, propietor of Casitas Simpaticas, our first "home" in Baja.

 

During our many stays with Gary, we came to know Gary and the many roles his life had given him.  He came from southern California where he was a surfer and an adventurer.  He was a horse trainer, a sailor, a celestial navigator, an architect, a builder, a father, a patron of the arts and a humanitarian.  Our mornings at Gary's place were spent in what we came to refer to as "story hour."  A simple sharing of a cup of instant coffee became the door to Gary's many adventures.  More than once Bruce and I had to ask each other, as we left Gary and headed to the beach, "How much of that do you suppose is true?"  Tales of dinner in his father's house with Frank Lloyd Wright, training horses in the sea for the racetrack at Del Mar, visiting Tahiti long before it was a tourist destination, teaching his daughter to sail the boat backwards into the harbor as that is when you really know how to control a sailboat, and on and on and on.  Soon we were sharing dinners and pieces of exotic fruit from the gardens of Lupe, Gary's handyman and longtime friend.  Once he showed us a bottle which had held a very expensive tequila.  The bottle was white porcelain, painted by hand in fine blue ink.  Gary said the tequila cost over $100 and half the price went to the pople who painted the bottle.  He thought that was nice....that half the money went to the artists.  To Bruce and I, a stay in Pescadero, meant another deepening of our affection for Gary.  We were smong the last of his renters.

Bruce and I met his children on the beach at Pescadero.  We first recognized Chica, Gary's companion and Mexican dog.  Chica was never far from Gary's side, so we knew something was up.  Walking with Chica was one of Gary's daughters.  His other daughter and a son were on the beach also when we learned of Gary's passing.  It must have happened a week or two after we stayed with him.  I told the one daughter that we had heard so many of Gary's stories, many of them about his children.  She smiled, looked me in the eyes and said, "All of them are true."  She pointed out her sister further down the beach, so I approached her and introduced myself.  As soon as she said her name, I had to ask, "Can you really sail a sailboat backwards?"  She didn't hesitate, but maintained her gaze far out into the ocean while answering, "Yes, I can."

Gary's memorial was a week later.  The children found old photos in "Gary's Lair" of Tahiti and surfing days, horses and sailing.  The few Mexicans in attendance all had thankful words for Gary.  One told a story of Gary buying uniforms for the whole baseball team.  Serita, of  Rosita's Luncheria where Gary liked to eat only told us solemnly that Gary had helped her a lot and plenty of other people too.  Gary's son, Allen released Gary's ashes into the sea with his sisters next to him, clasping hands; all up to their knees in sea break.  When the last of the ashes had been rinsed from the container and Allen had finished his silent wishes and prayers his sisters encouraged him to toss the blue and white bottle high and far into the sea.