As some of you know, a wonderful lady named Carolyn Kelly was a huge part of my life for about twenty years…until 2017 when cancer took her away from me and all who loved her. She is still part of my life in some senses. Carolyn was lovely in every way in which a person can be lovely and in many ways that belonged only to her.
I inherited her belongings — crates of 'em, many housed in a Public Storage locker and unseen even by her for decades. A lot of what was in there was the work or possessions of her father, who was one of the best cartoonists who ever lived. Five years after her passing, I am still going through those crates, finding treasures of artistic or historical value. Everything of note will be shared in some way with the world, though it may take a while.
I also inherited her computer, which I gave to her in the first place, and I've been going through it when I have time, looking for materials relevant to the Pogo books which I now co-edit, reprinting her father's magnum opus. The other day, in a ZIP file I'd never opened, I came across a little essay that Carolyn wrote in 2002. The date on the file is 9/14/02, two weeks after the event she wrote about…a visit that three of us (Carolyn, my mother and Yours Truly) took to the home of my partner in Groo, Sergio Aragonés and his partner in life, Charlene.
I had never seen this before and I have no idea if Carolyn wrote it for any particular purpose. It may just be something she sent to a few close friends…I don't know. But I thought it was splendid and charming and I thought I would share it here with all of you. I have changed nothing about it except to fix one typo and insert the photo, which I took that day…
Sunday afternoon, the 1st of September, Mark and I are driving through the So. California heat wave up to Ojai, as Sergio has invited us up — he is making paella, it's very important to him that his dear friend Mark be his guest, and Sergio making paella is such an wonderfully rich bounteous aesthetic and rare event that it is not to be missed. Maybe a once-in-a-lifetime spectacular for us. So we are going.
It is still way over 100 degrees at 4:30 PM. We find the house in a winding lane, deeply shaded by live oak and redwoods. It's a shock to step out of the car — 72 degrees inside, 108 outside — but it's also amazingly pleasant! The air feels rare, dry, balmy.
Charlene greets us from the front of the house — she must have been awaiting our arrival. She leads us through the cool dark house, and we hear the desperate pleas of dogs who have been imprisoned to keep them from rampaging through the party.
We go out into the back, down a wide stone path alongside a winding many-leveled turquoise swimming pool that's edged with boulders, banks lined with overhanging succulents, cactus, blooming shrubs in huge terra cotta pots, hanging baskets of flowers and vines, low spreading plants — everything lush, rich, almost tropical. A grotto.
Now we are below the pool, where the rest of the company of ten is gathered around a large heavy old pine table under the broad overhanging roof of the shady outdoor kitchen with its great stone fireplace. The air softly carries smells of wood smoke, sage, olive oil and garlic.
Sergio, bare-chested, dressed in red swim-shorts, is the lovingly meticulous chef, and the paella is being cooked in a huge (nearly 3' wide) special paella pan that Sergio brought on his lap on the plane from Spain many years ago. It is stirred with the beautiful long-handled utensils that Sergio's mother used, and the wood fire beneath the pan is carefully tended in the way, Sergio tells us, he used to tend his mother's paella cooking fires as a child. He does everything with graceful competence.
The huge fireplace is made of gray boulders, a cow's skull hanging decoratively on the tall chimney. Before the comfortable guests is the shady man-made grotto, complete with waterfall that splashes into the swimming pool from a little cliff. Behind the kitchen, along the vine-draped fence at the property's edge, the bare ground is set with smooth-washed river stones. We look out over the fence at a vast panorama of rolling hills scattered with ancient walnut groves and live oaks, all backed with a mountain range, golden and lavender with the late afternoon sun and shadow. Charlene points out to us how her own profile is magically repeated in the forms of the distant ridge of the mountains.
On the table there are dozens of colorful Spanish and Mexican pottery bowls — all beautiful and all different — holding the paella ingredients waiting to be added to the pan, there are thick glass pitchers of sangria and margueritas, there are dishes of olives, platters of cheeses, plates of tomatoes and basil, baskets of breads, bowls of cucumber salad, garlic mayonnaise, salsa, dishes of salt, plates of grapes — all piled before us. The table isn't set — it is heaped. We sit around it on roughly-cut Mexican pine chairs in the remarkable dry air.
Photo by me.
And there is Sergio, laughing, jumping into the shady turquoise pool to cool off between bouts of attentive stirring at the fire — Mark informs us that this is the old custom of Rinsing the Chef — and there are the guests, delighted by silliness from Sergio and Mark, there are the bright-eyed and hopeful dogs, following every motion, there is Charlene Ryan, Sergio's beautiful freckled Irish-faced wife, who was an actress and dancer on Broadway and in many films, nearly six feet tall, blond, you may have seen her. In the twilight, Charlene lights torches along the pool's edge, and the flame casts warm light on her skin. And finally there is the paella itself, rose shrimp, golden rice, tawny chicken, pale artichokes, jade and coral green-lipped mussels — saffron, olives, fava beans, garlic, peppers — beautiful, exotic, smoky, delicious.
It is 108 degrees, but no one really minds — the air is lovely and the company is completely devoted to the relaxed but passionate enjoyment of the perfect balance of host and guest, of generosity, of bounty, of friendship and and of sensuous delights.
That's the entire piece but I've found (and am still finding) other little writings and drawings and artifacts that Carolyn left me. I'll share some more in the future. That's why I labelled this "Part 1."
