Author: punchwpadmin

Words by Sharon McDonnell

A leading American educator, journalist and mother, Esther Wojcicki calls it like she sees it. “The number one problem with children today is that too many have no problem-solving skills,” she asserts. “They’re catered to all the time.”

Esther, a champion of student-centered, experiential education, is the founder of Palo Alto High School’s Media Arts Program, the biggest high school journalism program in the U.S. “Journalism is a front-row seat on life,” she says. A teacher for 40 years, until 2020, Esther is also the co-founder of several education nonprofits. Author of How to Raise Successful People and Moonshots in Education, she speaks frankly about education and childrearing, logging travel to Dubai, India, Austria and South Korea.

Born on New York’s Lower East Side to Russian-Jewish immigrants, Esther grew up near Los Angeles in the San Fernando Valley. She married Stan Wojcicki, the former chairman of Stanford’s physics department, in 1961. Now 81, Esther is the mother of three accomplished daughters: Anne Wojcicki, the CEO of 23andMe (and the ex-wife of Google co-founder Sergey Brin), Susan Wojcicki, the CEO of YouTube and Janet Wojcicki, a UCSF professor of pediatrics.

Nicknamed the “Godmother of Silicon Valley” (Google was founded in Susan’s garage and home), Esther also has a fun-loving, irreverent side. She first ran into her husband-to-be, literally, while sliding down a staircase in a cardboard box in her dorm at UC Berkeley. She’s the sort of teacher whose students made a T-shirt showing a graphic of her stomping on the administration building—and another that said, “In Woj We Trust.”

It’s fair to say that Esther can always be trusted to provide thought-provoking insights.

Can you describe your child-rearing philosophy in a nutshell?
I have a five-concept model: trust, respect, independence, collaboration and kindness. Parents should encourage their children to be independent, self-starting and empowered. I sent Susan and Janet to the store next door to buy bread alone at age five and four when we lived in Geneva, when Stan worked at CERN. If kids get whatever they want, they never struggle or understand the real value of pursuing something, and don’t develop their creativity and grit.

“Grit” is important to you. Why?
Call it drive, ferocious determination, resilience and passion, with a dose of self-control and patience: grit helps develop coping and problem-solving skills for the rest of your life. A study of the top 35 Fortune 500 companies found that 57% were founded or co-founded by an immigrant or the child of an immigrant. Adversity can build automatic grit—either you succumb to your circumstances or you fight tooth and nail to overcome them, which makes us stronger. The silver lining of poverty is grit…you have no choice but to use your creativity. I’m not arguing for imposing trauma or suffering on children, of course. But grit is a teachable skill.

How?
Kids should be part of the family team and help out, not just expect the parents to do everything for them. I strongly suggest all teens get jobs, no matter the family income. There is no better way to learn how the real world works. My daughters were called the “lemon girls” since they sold lemons from a neighbor’s tree as kids, babysat and worked at a restaurant. I started working at 14 at a weekly newspaper in Sunland-Tujunga. If we give children the opportunity to figure things out in high school on a regular basis, they will be ready for the adult world.

What’s your view on “helicopter parenting?”
I call it “snowplow parenting,” clearing all obstacles in their way. It doesn’t teach kids that setbacks are a necessary part of life, they grow up terrified to take risks, and in the work world, expect everything to be handed to them and can’t handle criticism. Overprotective parenting has resulted in a generation of kids who don’t know how to do anything for themselves, let alone overcome fears, challenges and failures. You learn from your failures and develop a sense of mastery. Learning comes when students are willing to take risks.

Travel and education were your top priorities when you raised your children. Can you explain?
Seeing the world is the best education children can have, beyond temporary jobs. It broadens their thinking about what’s possible in this world. My daughters’ travels as teenagers and adults taught them a lot about culture. When Anne took the Trans-Siberian Express through Russia and visited my mother’s hometown in Siberia, I didn’t hear from her for months. Susan lived in India for a year after college. When Janet was teaching social anthropology in Johannesburg, she took me to a clinic in Soweto, where I met many of the young mothers there. Meeting someone’s mother is a great honor in their culture, so the women prepared a yummy feast for me. It was the most powerful Mother’s Day I ever had!

How should parents view their children?
See your child as an individual with his or her own opinions, interests and purposes. Encourage them to pursue their fascinations, set their own goals and be an expert in something, which makes them feel good about themselves. Parents tend to define goals for their children solely in terms of their own interests and experience—and project their fears and anxieties onto their children, especially when it comes to less familiar career and life choices.

How did your high school journalism program operate?
I spent 36 years running my classroom as if it was a professional newsroom. For our many student publications, students were tasked with real-world responsibilities and experienced real-world consequences. They sold ads in downtown Palo Alto at the start of each semester, came up with story ideas, decided who to assign, and, if they missed the printer’s deadline, had to pay a penalty and fundraise to do so. They chose topics like student depression, the Parkland school shooting in Florida, poor teacher performance. I was their “guide on the side,” not a “sage on the stage.”

Do you have a favorite quote?
“The mind is not a vessel to be filled but a fire to be ignited.” —Plutarch

learn more

moonshotsedu.com
raisesuccessfulpeople.com

Words by Dylan Lanier

At first glance, Woodside’s Independence Hall appears quaint yet unremarkable. With simple white panels and a rustic blue door, the building reveals little indication of its rich history. Built in 1884, the structure emerged as the Woodside community began to rapidly grow. Where sawmills once flourished, small cattle ranches, farms and vineyards took their place—as did wealthy families from San Francisco who constructed country estates in the area. Independence Hall was originally erected a ways down from its current Woodside Avenue location. It also spent nearly eight decades at Albion Avenue. During its Prohibition days as a dance hall, the building was closed for “rowdiness.” Luckily, 23 years later, it regained respectability and reopened as Scout Hall. In 1972, the land beneath the property sold and the building moved back to its original location. Finally, in 1991, it moved next to Town Hall, where it currently stands after a complete restoration. Today, the site is used for town meetings and events, providing room for lectures and serving as the starting point for Woodside’s annual Fun Run and May Day Parade. Providing Woodside residents with an enduring public space to gather and connect, Independence Hall remains a shining example of the Peninsula’s many hidden historical gems.

Words by Kate Daly

Every month, James Caldwell takes his “current fun car” for a short spin to Cars & Coffee, an event he attends at Coffeebar in Menlo Park so he can schmooze with fellow car lovers. He describes his silver replica of a Porsche 550 Spyder as “simple” and “accurately depicted,” except that it’s fashioned from fiberglass instead of having a hand-formed aluminum body.

The convertible is a two-seater with just enough room for James’ gear, a Sigma fpL mirrorless digital camera. Yes, he’s there to talk shop with other collectors, but he’s also there to capture images and find clients for his automotive portraits business. One clue: the paint job on his Porsche features his website, JamesArtist.com, and his logo that’s inspired by an enamel hood ornament.

The car motif carries into the contemporary house he designed for his family in West Menlo Park. Large paintings of classics hang on the walls including comedian Jerry Seinfeld’s black Porsche 993 GT2. James spotted the car at a Porsche event, took a bunch of photos and went on to make a portrait.

James caught another famous TV personality’s eye with what he calls his “self-promoting” tote bag. Walking around the Pebble Beach Concours d’Elegance, Jay Leno recognized the yellow Duesenberg on the bag and invited James to appear on Jay Leno’s Garage. James bundled up a handful of his 30”x40” canvases to display during the segment, and the host enthused over what great gifts they would make. That was nine years ago, and James is still grateful for receiving such positive publicity from a credible source and “big fan.”

James has exhibited his work in New York and Miami, but given that shipping large art can be a logistical challenge, he prefers driving to locations such as Las Vegas and the Monterey Peninsula to showcase his talent. He has had a booth at the Pebble Beach Concours for about 10 years, and since 2014 has created the poster that VIPs receive at the Concorso Italiano during Monterey Car Week. Last year’s poster was particularly popular: a stylized close-up of the Ferrari horse emblem.

How did the 2000 industrial design graduate from the Rhode Island School of Design end up painting cars? James credits his father, architect and painter Jim Caldwell of Woodside. (Note: They are both named after James’ grandfather, James Emott Caldwell, who owned Caldwell’s General Store, the predecessor to Roberts Market in Woodside.)

“I’ve always been interested in drawing and painting,” explains James, “and my dad was interested in cars; he had stories about his first cars driving across the country and Europe.”

After college, James was doing welding and fabrication at a vintage race car shop in Redwood City when his father asked him to take an evening art class at Stanford to critique the father’s teaching technique. “Because we worked together so well,” James says his father also brought him into the architectural side of the business to make drafts on computer as opposed to by hand. When his father encouraged him to do a joint painting exhibition, James remembers, “I chose cars.”

That was in 2007, and cars have been James’ artistic focus ever since, except for designing his house with his father’s input. Modern furnishings complement his automotive portraits and his father’s landscape paintings decorating the walls. The neatness of James’ residence dramatically contrasts with his studio, a messy space in Redwood City where he spreads out his acrylics to work on multiple canvases at the same time. He uploads his photographs onto a computer monitor set up next to his easel so he can zoom in on the details.

“I’m very picky about the general proportions,” he says, “but the smaller details I choose.” James ticks off examples: He never paints every spoke in a wheel, a headlight in the foreground has more detail than one towards the back and his backgrounds tend to look looser and more impressionistic.

When he paints figures, they are intentionally vague. The one time James painted a portrait of the owner was for a memorial piece honoring Martin Swig, a Bay Area legend known for collecting vintage cars and founding the California Mille, the 1,000-mile classic car tour. James especially enjoys the commission experience. After the owner picks out a setting with a personal connection, “In the best-case scenario I get to ride in the passenger seat,” he grins, “and then choose the time of day that brings out the best reflection.”

Lately, James has applied a deeper focus to photography. “I feel like the photograph itself can be the art, whereas before it was the reference for my art,” he shares. He’s exploring printing out large photographs on metal, which would drop the purchase price point down from the thousands into the hundreds. For a man whose first car was a Honda Del Sol, James’ taste and craft continue to evolve because he’s clearly, pun intended, driven. “I really love the car world,” he affirms. “It’s not just artistic—it’s exciting to just be a part of it.”

Yes, I am genetically a dog but it’s my cat-like qualities that led me to my Menlo Park domicile. It’s been 11 years since I came to live with Paul and Jennifer, and their kids, Natalie, Rachel and Devin. Cat people to the core, Jennifer and her mother had seven felines between them, but middle-child Rachel was determined to add a canine into the pack. After identifying the 50 “most cat-like” breeds, Rachel carefully vetted and screened to reveal a single, mom-satisfying candidate: the Japanese Shiba Inu. Bred not to bark nor rudely sniff people’s crotches, Shibas are known for being small, smart, fiercely independent—and handsome. True to my quasi-feline heritage, I’m likely to greet you with studied indifference. If I deign to further our acquaintance, I may take a seat by your side. That’s your hint to scratch between my ears but don’t expect a return lick or a lean. I am quite content to stare out a window all day judging passersby and their more provincial pets. Aloof I may be, but I’m clearly adored. And you can credit my superior virtues for successfully opening a doggy door into a cat-obsessed home.

Calling All Dogs:
If you've got quirky habits or a funny tale (or tail) to share, email your story to hello@punchmonthly.com for a chance to share a page from your Diary of a Dog in PUNCH.

Words by Sharon McDonnell

Woodside’s Rhonda Brofman Gessow is a peacemaker. “Let’s find a common thread,” she espouses. “Let’s find something that benefits both parties.” A retired criminal defense attorney who practiced in Atlanta for 12 years, Rhonda always knew she wasn’t cut out to be a prosecutor. “I never wanted to have a negative impact on someone’s life,” she explains. “I wanted to help the person who needs to be lifted up, and ensure they received their rights under the Constitution.”

A New York City native, Rhonda attended Emory University Law School and recalls being assigned to support the prosecution in a case involving a teenage shoplifter. “I felt so bad for the girl and for how the community failed her,” she says. “I didn’t want to add anything bad to the trajectory of her life.”

Over the course of her legal career in Atlanta, Rhonda went on to become a partner at Kadish, Davis & Brofman, the editor of The Georgia Defender and co-author of a criminal law book. She also met her husband, Jody—and when Jody’s job in real estate development moved them to the Peninsula in 1989, the couple embraced Woodside’s rural culture. “I love walking out the door and hiking for miles,” says Rhonda, whose favorite spots are Wunderlich and Huddart Parks.

Shifting focus, the active mom paused her career to raise three kids and support the local community as a Woodside school volunteer. Her own favorite book as a child? To Kill a Mockingbird. “I loved Atticus Finch,” she says, “and named my son Jeremy after his son—the idealistic and protective older brother who must cope with injustices of the court system.”

Tapping into that early inspiration, Rhonda seized the opportunity to apply her legal expertise and passion for restorative justice by earning a certificate in mediation. According to Rhonda, criminal defense law is “exciting and interesting,” but she describes mediation as a more natural calling. “It fits my skills and is open-ended,” she says. “Law is more about winning, and mediation is more about finding common interests and viable outcomes that may work better for both parties.”

For 15 years now, the former defense attorney has worked as a volunteer mediator for the San Mateo Juvenile Mediation Program—an initiative that brings crime victims and offenders together to discuss how to make things right. To date, Rhonda has spoken to over 1,000 young offenders and mediated hundreds of cases from theft to sexual assault in a program that serves as an alternative or supplement to juvenile detention.

While meetings are confidential, Rhonda describes a typical scenario. A teenager breaks into a car and damages it. Through the mediation process, the teen may learn that its owner had to take public transportation until the car was fixed, adding extra hours to his commute, and spent hard-earned money to repair the car, which possessed major sentimental value, and the two may agree on restitution.

“The person harmed is able to express his or her feelings, learn more about the motive behind the offense, get directly involved in the justice process and sometimes receive monetary compensation for damages,” she summarizes. “The teen hears that his or her actions have significant consequences and hopefully gets a better understanding of how the other person was affected.” Rhonda relays that anything both parties agree to is possible. “In some instances, they’ve even exchanged contact info and the teen landed a mentor,” she adds.

Given her peacemaker nature, it’s no surprise that Rhonda has also volunteered for 15 years for the San Mateo-based Peninsula Conflict Resolution Center, where she mediates disputes among adults, and more recently for Creating Friendships for Peace, an organization that promotes understanding between teens from divided communities.

“It’s important for individuals to not only listen to others, but to also use active listening skills to make sure the other person knows he/she is being heard,” she notes. “I also help them identify how they usually deal with conflict: Some of us avoid it, some compromise, some are more forceful in their positions. It’s helpful to be self-aware of your conflict style.”

In addition to being a peacemaker, Rhonda strives for periodic resets in her life. “I have taken on a big new challenge every 15 years,” she shares. “It keeps things interesting.” Drawn to music, Rhonda always enjoyed writing lyrics to popular song tunes for loved ones’ birthdays. With extra downtime in the pandemic, she applied herself to composing original songs on her guitar—from studying music theory to writing melodies and chord progressions. As it turns out, some aspects were surprisingly relatable. “Writing lyrics is not that different from writing a legal brief,” she smiles. “In a song, you have a hook you’re writing to and everything leads up to that.”

The newbie songwriter is already drawing attention. Her songs, “Wild, Wild Best” (a country song about getting out of a rut and looking for new excitement in life) and “Weight of the Ink” (about how to find comfort when a loved one is in harm’s way), won 2021 and 2022 Great American Song Contest awards in the lyrics category. Her first song, “You Are the Star,” is a tribute to military families whose children endure holidays, birthdays and milestones without the parent who is serving our country. Its touching words reflect her own experience: her son has served in the military for 12 years. Rhonda produced the video, which can be seen on YouTube.

As Rhonda balances her volunteer work and time with her growing family that includes three grandkids, the question is, “What will she write about next?” Given her reflective and thoughtful nature—which serves her in both mediation and songwriting—the lyrics are sure to resonate.

Words by Sloane Citron

At the beginning of each summer during my childhood, my dad would drag me to the Amarillo Public Library. Built in 1905, the magnificent building was the former home of Lee Bivins, who was said to be the largest individual cattle rancher in the world when he died in 1929. Had you placed me there in the dark, with my eyes blindfolded, I could have told you where I was, so distinctive was the library’s musty smell of paper.

I had to check out five books, the maximum. I tried to find subjects I liked, but once those books were at my home, I had no interest in opening any of them. I was on vacation, the sun shining, baseball playing and the promise of the summer ahead of me. I had no interest in reading a book of any kind.
It wasn’t until I was almost 30 that I discovered the absolute joy of reading, and I have the book Kon Tiki to thank for that. Gripping and exciting, I could not put the real-life adventure down, and in the process, I found a genre that spoke to me. I learned that books take us to places we cannot go.

Over the years, I have read thousands of books, almost all of them in the adventure/travel/survival genre. I have read just about every book written about Alaska (and yet I have never been there). A great read, for me, is a book I simply can’t stop reading, that captures my attention and won’t let go. I have tried my best to read James Joyce and William Faulkner, but my heart’s not in it, and when I make the effort, I’m reminded of the childhood summer days when my dad commanded me to read.

It’s a bit of a challenge to find new titles, but I have my method. I go to Amazon, which has the best site for suggestions based on books I have selected or previously purchased, and then I do my best to buy these books locally. Sometimes, Amazon is my only choice, but mostly I’m able to buy from our local stores.

This past summer, as I mentioned in a previous essay, I was given the book, S. C. Gwynne’s Empire of the Summer Moon: Quanah Parker and the Rise and Fall of the Comanches, the Most Powerful Indian Tribe in American History. Given that it was a historical tome, I had my reservations about diving in. And truth be told, I almost gave up after the first 20 pages. But I’m glad I didn’t, because once I was invested, the book completely captured my attention. It was truly magical to read—engrossing, entertaining and educational.

Around the time I was finishing that book, my sister Shelley, who lives in Chicago, sent me The Devil in the White City by Erik Larson, about the incredible World’s Fair in Chicago in 1893. Again, I could not put this book down and again, I was highly entertained and surprised that I did not know about this extraordinary exposition, truly one of the most spectacular events ever held in the United States.

What was spellbinding, having read these two books in succession, was that in the late 19th century, we were still fighting the Native Americans in turf wars on the Texas Plains and in another area, we were building the most impressive edifices known to mankind.

Perhaps more important to me personally was that—after 30 years—I have discovered a new genre, which is a good thing, since they don’t seem to publish enough adventure books to keep me from reordering ones that I have already read.

I’ve told my family and friends of this reading breakthrough, and now I have been blessed with several new books, including The Aye-Aye and I: A Rescue Journey to Save One of the World’s Most Intriguing Creatures from Extinction, which is a fabulous story about animals in Madagascar, where, unbelievably, some 90% of all plant and animal species are only found on the island nation. And the intriguing The Mosquito Bowl, a great look at brotherhood during World War II.

I have a small wooden table with three drawers next to my bed where I store my books to be read. I’m like a truck driver always in need of gas, most content when his tanks have just been topped off. Except my gas is books, and if my drawers are not overflowing with titles that I am excited to read, I get panicky.

My Dad’s love of literature and books and those mandatory trips to the Amarillo library—done to try to infuse that love within me—showed me that there must be something special in books. Sometimes, when I’m in the middle of an especially wonderful read, I pause and take a moment to recall the library’s musty cooridors, grateful to have had a father who cared enough to push.

A veteran storm chaser for 18 years, PUNCH photographer Gino De Grandis’ assignments typically take him to wild weather places like Kansas, Oklahoma and Texas. “Who would have expected this here?” he says of the recent “atmospheric rivers” that pummeled the Peninsula. Hired by San Mateo County to capture extreme weather shots and storm damage, Gino pulled over near Pillar Point when he saw hundreds of frantic seagulls circling and squawking. “The crashing high surf stirred up the algae and created a feeding frenzy,” he says. “In the break of bad weather, I also encountered unexpected beauty.”

Image by Gino De Grandis / luiphotography.com

 

Words by Sloane Citron

Recently I was given a job that I did not relish, a challenging one if you are sentimental and nostalgic like me. While such traits yield a certain warmth and retrospect, they make looking forward somewhat arduous.

We are, apparently, since I was not made part of the process, going to remodel our home. We built our house in 1996, raised four children there, harbored four dogs and a multitude of pets, hosted several adult children and their spouses, and now have seven grandchildren bouncing off of anything that can be bounced off of. The home shows the patina of one well-lived-in. Since the marks, gouges and damaged windowpanes (think BB guns, golf balls and rocket projectiles) remind me of the happy times when my children lived here, I’m content with how things are. Change has always been anathema to me.

Our four children, two boys and two girls, occupied three bedrooms growing up. It would have been four bedrooms, since we were designing the home, but our oldest son Josh, to his everlasting credit, wanted to continue to share a bedroom with his little brother, Coby, despite his seven-year seniority. The girls were excited to not share a bedroom.

Although the three older children are now married with their own homes and children, and our youngest owns his own home in Tel Aviv, their rooms look every bit like they have gone away for a weekend. There are posters on the walls, dresser tops lined with trophies and toys and closets filled with their possessions.

But now it was my responsibility, somehow, to empty out the rooms, eliminating, if you will, the physical memories of the short years which constituted that wonderful time in my life when I had my whole family in the loving embrace of these walls and roofs and safety.

My kids have done little to help me in this chore. I would have liked them to figure out what they wanted to keep, what was memorable, so that I would not make any mistakes. When my own father cleared my room when I went off to prep school, he threw out all my yearbooks and other cherished goods. The trauma of that still haunts me and I don’t want to revisit that on my own children.

But they have given me little choice. I know they are all terribly busy with careers and their own responsibilities and have little extra time in their weeks. Somehow, I think they trust me, since they know with my nature I would err on the side of caution and not randomly discard their childhood treasures.

I tackled Ari’s room first, pulling everything out of the closet, from under the bed, inside the drawers and in an armoire. My daughter has always been better at acquiring things than getting rid of them. Squirreling goods away at her childhood home was a safe middle ground. After a couple of hours, I had things narrowed down, though I must admit there were some items that I had no idea what to do with, such as my mother’s fur coat that she had given to Ari 20 years ago.

Next, I went after Tali’s room (now claimed by her daughter, Liav, when she sleeps over) and had an easier time of it. I had given her fair warning that I was going to give away everything in her closet since the last time she had looked in there was prior to her giving birth to three children. Since she and her husband Sam have been together since they were 16 years old, it was fun finding the keepsakes of their relationship from Menlo-Atherton High School through Stanford and UC Berkeley.

Finally, the boy’s room, the real tearjerker for me since so much of myself was wrapped up in it. There were small baseball bats from their first Giants games, a signed Steve Young poster on the wall, a little basketball hoop and ball from when we played countless hours at night. You get the idea.
After I had completed the task of clearing out the kids’ rooms, I carefully placed all their belongings in plastic containers from Target. Since Coby is fully ensconced in his home in Israel, I’m going to take his belongings with me on my next trip.

With our dog, Chase, recently passed and now the emptying of these rooms, I guess I must face the reality that the beautiful life I had raising these kids in this home is over, nothing but memories left. For many, it is a wonderful fresh beginning, but for some of us, it is a tearful goodbye. But I’m lucky. My grandkids are plenty destructive and I’m sure in no time there will be gouges, marks, perhaps even a broken window or two, creating new memories to cherish in our remodeled home.

Words by Robert David Siegel

How far do we need to wander to find our wild side? Certainly, it can be thrilling to travel the globe in search of new wonders. However, it can be quite remarkable to discover nature in our own backyards. This realization came to me while traveling in the Galapagos. I wondered what I might see closer to home—if only I paid attention and looked more carefully.

The dark-eyed junco is ubiquitous and not at all shy. We have found them nesting in our bushes and flowerpots. Adept hunters, these passerines find plenty of insects to munch on and feed their young.

Safely ensconced in our houses, many of us are oblivious to what goes on in our yards at night. With a light in hand, we may discover that the nocturnal bioscape changes dramatically. Seeing these secretive denizens is one thing; capturing their images is quite another. Fortunately, raccoons may move slowly. Just don’t get too close.

When the junco nests are close at hand, it is a fascination to watch the progression from the placid eggs, to the gaping maws of begging chicks, to flight-competent adolescents as they first take wing!

Spiders, like this spotted orbweaver, garner my admiration for their remarkable architectural skills, but also for preying on mosquitos and other pesky insects. Orbweavers make marvelous photographic subjects that can often be captured from every direction.

It has become relatively common to see a wild coyote or turkey in our open space parks. But imagine finding them coming up your Peninsula home driveway. I have seen both. The turkey gave me plenty of time to grab my camera and snap a shot. The coyote did not.

Famed for their epic, multi-generational migration and their gaudy don’t-eat-me coloration, monarch butterflies will often flit through the yard. If you are lucky, you may find some monarch caterpillars munching on the milkweed.

After a quiet swim in the pool with his partner, this mallard takes to the wing, while noisily announcing his departure. As humans impact more and more of the environment, birds like mallards have figured out how to take advantage of this encroachment.

In addition to being a microbiology and immunology professor at Stanford, Palo Alto's Rober David Siegel is a docent and avid wildlife photographer who teaches courses in photographing nature. web.stanford.edu/~siegelr/photo.html

Words by Johanna Harlow

No restaurant fuels the imagination (and appetite) quite like Buck’s in Woodside. Welcoming guests at the front door, a six-foot Lady Liberty holds an ice cream sundae “torch” aloft. A Mona Lisa in a cowboy hat and a mounted bison in a sombrero hang on the walls, while a sizable Pegasus, an astronaut and a pack of flying nuns dangle from the ceiling. Under your feet, the patterned carpet is embroiled in crocodiles. Drawn to this hub of creativity, the innovative minds behind Tesla, Hotmail, PayPal, Netscape and eBay came here for their early meetings, pitching groundbreaking ideas over bacon and French toast. But what if you grew up here? What sort of impact might long-term exposure to a place like Buck’s and its unconventional atmosphere have?

You’ll have to ask Tyler MacNiven, second son of Buck’s founder Jamis MacNiven. “This is definitely like a living room for me,” Tyler shares as he passes a 12-foot unicycle and a shark painted with Hot Wheels flames, before folding his long legs into a booth seat. “I was pouring coffee here when I was 12.”

After circulating through a myriad of jobs at the diner—serving, bartending, managing, kitchen duties—Tyler recently took over the running of Buck’s (and several more restaurant ventures) with his two brothers.

But catch your breath now, because there’s more—much more. Tyler has also filmed documentaries in Japan, Iran, Cuba, Mongolia and India. He cameoed in an iconic Hollywood film. And he won a million dollars with his teammate on Season 9 of The Amazing Race, a CBS reality game show. Buckle up for the tale of Tyler’s gloriously wild ride.

Filmmaker

When Tyler was introduced to his first camcorder at 18, the two became inseparable. “I started making movies with my younger brother during the summers when I’d come home from college,” Tyler recalls. “We had so much fun making movies and laying down soundtracks and playing different characters.” Boisterous memories were forged as the two gallivanted through the woods in cowboy outfits during the making of action-packed old Westerns, along with the occasional thriller or comedy.
While studying politics at UC Santa Cruz, Tyler gave stop-animation a try. The first, a vignette of people walking various appliances around the block by their power cords, was followed by a second that portrayed a character’s budding romance with his computer. “When the computer unfortunately suffers a tragic demise, the floppy disc retains all the memories they had together,” chuckles Tyler.

For his next project—an epic battle of computers versus television sets—Tyler procured his cast from a bountiful junkyard. He recruited a number of friends and fellow filmmakers to move these scrappy “warriors” in a heroic charge—before falling on each other and grappling in mortal combat.

documentarian

After graduation, Tyler set out with backpack and handycam to make a five-month, 2,000-mile pilgrimage from one end of Japan to the other. He chronicled his trek from Kyuˉshuˉ to Hokkaidoˉ in a travel documentary titled Kintaro Walks Japan. “Kintaro,” meaning “Golden Boy,” tips its cap to Tyler’s wild blonde curls—all the more conspicuous when he’s looming head-and-shoulders taller than the dark-haired locals around him.

Though sometimes he pitched camp, Tyler encountered countless strangers who invited him back to their homes for the night (perhaps swayed by the local newspapers, and later TV channels, that covered Tyler’s story). “I kept saying, ‘If you give yourself to the journey, the journey will give itself to you,’” he shares of what turned into 60 homestays. “I said, ‘Japan take me.’ And Japan just embraced me.”

Though communication was limited, the camaraderie between traveler and hosts was unmistakable. “They would cook me an incredible meal—and often they would bring out a bottle of sake that they’d been holding onto for some time,” he reminisces. Frequently, he found himself passed around to meet parents, kids and grandparents. Even the neighbors would get invited to meet the crazy foreigner.

Despite the glowing news publicity, Tyler found it difficult to find a distributor for his documentary upon his return to the States. Undeterred, he burned 1,000 DVDs, hawking copies in San Francisco and at the family restaurant. The guerilla tactic paid off and his film found its way onto the Google Video streaming platform as well as into a few film festivals (getting voted “Best of Fest” by audiences at the Santa Cruz Film Festival). For a month, international travelers aboard American Airlines also watched Kintaro in-flight.

Emboldened by his success and ready to encounter another country in a non-traditional way, Tyler filmed I Ran Iran. But the documentary was cut short after only 100 miles. “The Iranian people were so gracious,” Tyler insists. “Unfortunately, the Iranian government wanted to use the run as a political stunt… I wasn’t there to do that.” Undeterred, Tyler set off to document himself hugging a thousand Cubans—then wrestling 100 Mongolians.

This last project was inspired by Tyler’s discovery that nearly everyone in Mongolia is down to grapple. “Men, women… Doesn’t matter what age, wrestling is the national sport,” he explains. “What a really interesting way to figuratively and literally embrace a culture by going out there and challenging them to wrestling matches.” The project morphed into Wrestling Mongolia, an adventure comedy that Tyler made with friends. “Don’t watch it,” Tyler laughs.

Contestant

Of course, there’s also Tyler’s most publicized endeavor: his time spent as a contestant on The Amazing Race in 2006. On the reality television game show, Tyler (along with his teammate and friend BJ Averell) tackled countless problem-solving tasks and physical challenges as they made their way across 10 countries, 36 cities and 59,000 miles.

It wasn’t long before the shaggy duo earned themselves a team nickname: The Hippies. “You know what the definition of ‘hippie’ is?” Tyler asks. “Someone with long hair who’s having more fun than you!” He adds that long before his UC Santa Cruz days, his parents instilled that free spirit. “It was already deeply ingrained in my DNA. There’s hippie all the way down to the nucleotides,” Tyler declares. (Coincidentally, after the race, Tyler would cameo as a thieving hippie in The Pursuit of Happyness starring Will Smith. His precious minutes of screen time include stealing Will’s equipment and dashing off in flared pants.)

That easygoing manner by no means discredited Tyler and BJ as fierce competitors. “Let’s have a good time and win,” the duo agreed. But who wouldn’t go all in with a $1,000,000 incentive on the line? “That’s a motivator—especially when you’re 26, working at your parents’ restaurant!” Tyler quips. “I had $900 in my bank account.”

Fun was always in the mix, Tyler insists—even when they endured the tedium of digging through 117 sand dunes for their next clue in sweltering Oman, or raced with a ripe 30-pound swordfish on their shoulders to a market in Italy, or cut their tongues while eating a heaping bowl of crispy crickets in Thailand. “You can’t always control what happens to you,” Tyler notes, “but you can control how you respond to it.”

And when they won, the tougher tasks made their victory that much sweeter. “When I think about The Amazing Race, it feels like going to an amusement park,” Tyler marvels. “Was getting on that roller coaster challenging? It was nothing but exhilarating.”

Restaurateur

After the show, Tyler invested a chunk of his winnings toward his film career. “But I wasn’t able to really work the business angle of that, nor did I want to,” he concedes. Around this time, his attention shifted to what his brothers Dylan and Rowan were up to back in the restaurant biz. “They were really growing as leaders and as members of the community,” Tyler recalls. “They were learning so much and being challenged in these really interesting ways and carrying on our family tradition. And I just kind of got envious of that.”

Deciding it was time to return to his roots, Tyler teamed up with his brothers. Today, they oversee four San Francisco restaurants (including West of Pecos, a Santa Fe-inspired eatery) as well as Pizzeria Deluna (a concept that partners with hotels to serve gourmet pizza to guests). Tyler also co-founded Sunbasket, a healthy meal kit delivery service that now sends out hundreds of thousands of meals every week.

Of course, the brothers also run the fantastical restaurant that started it all: Buck’s. “Growing up in Buck’s showed me that you can have fun while doing whatever you’re doing,” Tyler reflects. He recalls testing out an electric roadster in the parking lot that would one day become an early model for Tesla, and he can point to the exact table where Sabeer Bhatia pitched the idea for Hotmail. “[Sabeer] wrote on a napkin ‘Free Email’ and slid it over to [venture capitalist] Steve Jurvetson. He looked at it and said, ‘Yes, let’s do this!’” Tyler recounts. He adds, “Being a young kid, I didn’t really understand the larger context of what was happening. I remember feeling like it was totally normal.”

And that’s why returning to this synergetic setting felt so natural. “Many of the folks who come in are people I grew up with, and the parents of the people I grew up with, and the kids of people I grew up with,” Tyler says.
Though Tyler might not film as much these days, he still makes time for the occasional passion project. Take his espionage-themed “save the date” wedding video made with his then-fiancé, now-wife Kelly. It’s a pun, Tyler explains. What if “save the date” didn’t mean reserving the day, but rescuing it? To free their “hostage” date, Tyler and Kelly ensnare bad guys using a wedding veil for a net, set off a wedding cake explosive device and distract the enemy with a bouquet toss (the cronies can’t resist the urge to tackle each other for it). “We wrote the whole thing within ten minutes,” Tyler remarks. The video has racked up more than a million views.

Though Tyler’s father, Jamis, never pursued a cinematic career, Tyler says he admires his father’s knack for captivating a crowd at Buck’s. “My dad always said he was in the entertainment business. That man—he’s a magical carnival. He brings the circus to town!” Tyler shakes his head with a grin. “I’m a subdued version,” …claims the man wearing a shirt abloom in poppies… with ladybug buttons down the front.

If Tyler has learned anything from returning to his roots, it’s this: Discovering new places doesn’t require a plane ticket. “I found that being in the restaurant business is kind of like reverse traveling in a way. Instead of going out to see the world, open the doors and the world will come in to see you,” smiles Tyler. “There’s definitely a small-town feel here for sure. And also a big-world feel since people from all over the world come here.”

As Tyler reflects on coming full circle, his eyes drift to neighboring diners—conversing over coffee cups and swapping stories over sausage links as Lady Liberty and the sombrero-wearing bison watch on. “If you have an appetite for humanity,” he muses, “this is a great business.”

Words by Dylan Lanier

Today, the Lindenwood gates mark the entrance to an upscale Atherton neighborhood filled with lush greenery and elegant homes. The gates also tell a story of the past, reaching back to the California Gold Rush. James C. Flood, born in 1826 in New York City, traveled to San Francisco in 1849 and eventually carved out a name for himself in the mining world, amassing a fortune rumored to have once been the largest in California. He purchased a 600-acre tract of land in Atherton and set to work constructing a sprawling network of houses and gardens, including a crowning 44-room mansion named Linden Towers. James C. Flood initially built a white picket fence to enclose the property, but his son, James L. Flood, replaced the fence with brick walls and the now iconic iron gates in 1908 after gaining control of the estate. Until his death in 1926, James L. Flood always kept the gateway to Linden Towers open so that all members of the community could admire its architectural grandeur and stunning grounds. After Flood’s death, his second wife, Maud Flood, deemed the property a bygone relic, auctioning off its furniture and ordering its demolition in 1936. The estate was subdivided in stages into 488 current homes, most of which sit on one-acre parcels. However, the gates remain standing—a symbol of the Peninsula’s vibrant history, emblazoned with the initials “JCF” to commemorate the Flood family’s legacy.

Listen carefully to my bark and you’ll hear what I’m actually saying: “Top of the morning to you!” That’s my favorite greeting, given that I’m originally from Limerick County, Ireland. When I came to live with my Menlo Park family—Nick, Alex, Luke, Rebecca and Cal—they called me Toby because they thought it sounded like a fitting name for an Irish-born Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. That was back in 2017. I’ve always been snuggly, but in 2020, I started hearing myself described as an unofficial “emotional support pup.” Everyone seemed to be home a lot that year, and I was ever so happy to sit on a warm lap and binge-watch Netflix shows for hours. (Extra bonus: Rebecca would scratch my belly at the same time.) My other favorite pastimes are chasing (but never catching) squirrels and playing with my best friend Bodie, who’s an Australian shepherd—except when he steals my toys. Although I have a comfy dog pad, at night, I “army-crawl” my way under the big bed when it’s time to sleep. My family can’t quite understand this habit, but you see, I’m always putting their comfort first. I actually snore quite loudly so when I’m tucked up tight like that, I’m not as likely to keep them awake. That guarantees that when I woof, ‘Top of the morning to you!’ to start a new day, I’m always met by a happy smile.

If you’ve got quirky habits or a funny tale (or tail) to share, email your story to hello@punchmonthly.com for a chance to share a page from your Diary of a Dog in PUNCH.

A confluence of Moorish and Gothic architectural influences, what’s now Redwood City’s historic Fox Theatre opened its doors on January 2, 1929. Ellis John Arkursh, a civil engineer from Chicago who moved west to work on the Panama-Pacific Exposition, articulated his vision in the structure’s majestic design. Originally called the New Sequoia Theater, the venue offered an elegant setting for viewing motion pictures, further enhanced by a stately pipe organ and a projected display of clouds and stars on the ceiling.

After being purchased by the Fox West Coast chain, the theater continued to welcome movie patrons until 1950, when a partial ceiling collapse forced a closure to make repairs. Reopened with great fanfare four months later, the renamed Fox Theatre expanded into live performances, with artists like Etta James, BB King, Neil Young and Melissa Etheridge making appearances over the years. Inducted into the National Register of Historic Places in 1993, the live entertainment and rental venue now consists of Fox Theatre and Club Fox immediately next door. Acquired by new owners in 2017, the property maintains its starring role as a downtown Redwood City hub for public and private events.

Photography: Robb Most / Historic Photography: Courtesy Archives Committee Local History Room

Words by Sharon McDonnell

Lisa Van Dusen defies easy categorization. A social change agent and civic leader for decades, she’s also an executive/leadership coach, an SV2-Silicon Valley Social Venture Fund partner as well as a lifelong practicing artist. After moving to Palo Alto in the mid-’80s, Lisa launched Palo Alto Online for Palo Alto Weekly, the first newspaper in the world to publish its entire contents on the web in the early 1990s, and hosted its First Person video interview series, spotlighting local social innovators, frequently before their influence was widely recognized.

Currently, as executive director of the Palo Alto Community Fund, Lisa works to narrow the inequality gap between the haves and the have-nots in our local communities. Her eclectic accomplishments haven’t gone unnoticed. Among other honors, she was named a Woman of Influence by the Silicon Valley Business Journal.

When I see ‘occupation’ on a form, it still makes me shudder,” she says. “There was never a box for me. I always checked ‘Other.’” Initially viewing that as a weakness, over time, she came to see it as a strength and an ability. Out of that realization came “The Joys of Otherhood,” Lisa’s TEDx talk espousing the benefits of embracing different disciplines, skills and experiences.

“To work on the big challenges and problems in our world, we can’t operate in silos—we need people, like me, to cross-pollinate and weave the parts together,” observes Lisa, who also serves on the board of an NGO and as an advisor to a venture fund that invests in women-led startups. Proud to always be a square peg in a round hole, Lisa, who doesn’t accept givens and whose worldview is a breath of fresh air, offers a dose of inspiration and motivation as we kick off a new year.

Malcolm Gladwell says of “connectors” in his book The Tipping Point, “By having a foot in so many different worlds, they have the effect of bringing them all together.” The word fits you to a T.

I naturally collect and connect a wide range of people, resources, organizations and ideas. I try to be human glue, be a finder, connect the dots.

Given the January time frame, what are your tips on a reset or reinvention?

Do more of what you love, and see how to integrate that into the rest of your life. My ‘walking meetings’ are an example: If someone says, ‘Let’s have coffee,’ I say, ‘How about a walk?’ Wish big. We often have a failure of imagination. We don’t let ourselves nurture our dreams. Taking small steps to reach something big is OK—think, ‘What’s the next step?’ Plant seeds and see what grows. What you give attention to really grows.

What are some practices that sustain you?

In the morning, I try to meditate, draw, write and exercise. Making art—for a wide range of outlets—everything from cards for friends to film and book illustrations. I have a Free Little Art Gallery in front of my house, where people can contribute, take or just enjoy art, including my own. Hiking—we are so fortunate to live on the Peninsula. Foothills Park in Palo Alto and the Hamms Gulch Trail on Windy Hill are two favorites. Gardening—my husband and I have a plot in the community garden at Eleanor Pardee Park. I also believe in the ‘joy of others’—I meet and talk to people every day, wherever I am. I get so much out of conversations with people I wouldn’t normally cross paths with.

In your TEDx talk called “The Joys of Otherhood,” you tell a wonderful anecdote about how when you were 10, your teacher assigned both a science project and an English project. But you combined them both, to resounding success. It seems to foreshadow your later life—can you explain?

I wanted to create a play about the Scopes trial, where Darwin’s theory of evolution was challenged, instead. The teacher said yes, so I recruited students from different grades to be part of it, and I cast myself as a reporter so I could use my reporter’s notebook as a prompter because I had a hard time memorizing my lines. So in many ways, that experience was a revelation and a high point of my childhood. I could combine my various interests into one project, and I didn’t need or even want to do it by myself. I’m still not good at memorization—but it’s worked for me. In fact, I’ve been happily doing improv classes and workshops for more than 25 years.

Does your life have any operating principles?

My lens in the world is both broad and narrow. There’s a hawk view, seeing things from 30,000 feet up; a chicken view, seeing things on the ground; and a hummingbird view, where I spend most of my time, traveling between elevations and different perspectives. I’m high-touch, playful and straightforward. Humor is big for me—as in taking my work seriously but not myself. I see the elephant in the room. If people say something I know isn’t true, I feel compelled to call it out.

Is there a book that particularly inspired you?

Uncommon Genius: How Ideas Are Born. It’s interviews with 40 MacArthur “genius” award winners is a window into people’s life paths that weren’t traditional paths, the breadcrumb trail.

Do you have a motto?

Carpe diem! I also love Margaret Mead’s quote, ‘Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful committed citizens can change the world: indeed it’s the only thing that ever has.’

Check ‘Other’ – lisavandusen.com

Eyes may be the window to the soul, and mine are pretty expressive, but I can say a whole lot more with just a flick of my ears. I’ll explain in a bit, but first, let me say how happy I am to be kicking off another year with my family in Menlo Park. Back in 2021, I was being fostered through Copper’s Dream Rescue when I had a “meet and greet” with Anna and Gus. They were instantly drawn to my sweet, earnest face and brought me home that very same day. Thinking I was a Jack Russell mix (not a stretch given my coloring), they named me Milo, after the terrier in the movie The Mask. Funnily enough, when they did a DNA test on me, they discovered I’m 0% terrier and 100% mutt (including Shih Tzu, Chihuahua, Dachshund and Pomeranian). So, back to my ears. It didn’t take long for Anna and Gus to realize that I use them to communicate what I’m thinking. I have four different positions. When I’m walking and focused, I hold my ears flat against my head. When I spot a squirrel, my ears move instantly forward, which means, “Go!” I love food more than anything, so when I smell a yummy scent or hear words like “breakfast,” “lunch,” “dinner” or “hungry,” my ears perk straight up and I tilt my head to one side for good measure. And finally, when I’m sleepy, my ears hang down gently—with just a slight perk. You see, I always try to stay just a tiny bit alert. Who knows? Someone might be taking a bite of an apple and offer to share it with me.

Words by Sloane Citron

“There, under the piece of mud, I think I see one,” I shouted to my friend, Donny Sadler, who was digging near me. I scraped at the wet earth, malleable but still hard, and slowly pulled out the arrowhead. It was a beauty—all points in perfect shape and clear markings on the carved flint.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was holding perhaps an arrowhead from the last Comanche band—essentially, small family groups—led by Quanah Parker, the first and only true Comanche leader, though he led a mix of defeated and compromised bands who were making their way to the reservations onto which they were forced.

For generations, the Comanches, actually a disparate tribe of individual bands with no real leaders, roamed the Texas Panhandle plains, finding food, refuge and safety in the canyons unique to this region.

The vast, mostly treeless area comprised of grasslands is on a high, flat plateau. And yet, suddenly, there are deep canyons (known as inverted mountains) carved by ancient rivers and their tributaries. The most famous of these is the spectacular Palo Duro Canyon, second only to the Grand Canyon in size and grandeur. Other canyons dot the landscape, breaking up the monotony of the endless expanses.

This is where I grew up, in Amarillo, a 30-minute drive from Palo Duro Canyon and from another, smaller canyon—simply called “The Canyon,” where my family had built a small cabin in the early 1960s. My father, a surgeon, joined the Korean War effort, and was sent to Japan for two years. While there, he developed a fondness for the architecture, and so when it came time to build a getaway for weekend retreats, he constructed it in Japanese fashion. The whole structure rested on stilts, one side for living with a small red bridge connected to the sleeping quarters. In the front, mounted on a large wooden structure, was a large Japanese gong, which could be heard throughout the canyon and was used to gather us children for meals and bedtime.

At the time, several of the local doctors developed small cabins here, drawn to each other, the natural beauty of the canyon, a small creek running through the middle of it and the rudimentary nine-hole golf course at its center. Of course, we children loved it out there. We climbed the hills, built rock wall forts, lit fireworks, explored old Indian caves and fireplaces, caught fireflies, watched lightning storms, swam in the shabby community pool, went creek fishing with long bamboo poles, played kick-the-can late into the night and, best of all, hunted for arrowheads, especially after a good rain.

Last summer, I spent some time in an adjacent canyon where our longtime family friend, Trudy Klingensmith Kraft, still owns the cabin her parents built more than 60 years ago. It’s a stunning spot where conversing, hiking and discovering are the key activities. She showed me her numerous arrowheads, points and flints, from a lifetime of collecting. Trudy raved about the Pulitzer Prize finalist and epic New York Times bestseller Empire of the Summer Moon, which examines the rise and fall of the Comanches and the famous Quanah Parker.

A hard book to put down, it paints an accurate picture of the struggle between the native tribes and the American destiny of millions of settlers coming to claim their piece of the open Plains territories. Neither side could claim moral victory, as there was torture, extreme violence, destruction and brutal killings on both sides during the four-decade war for control of this part of the American West.

What was of particular interest to me was that much of this mayhem happened in and around the canyon that I had hiked, explored and loved as a child. The burned-out caves we found were used by the Comanches; the long-hardened paths were traveled on by their horses as they sought the last of the buffalo; and, most of all, their thousands of arrowheads littered the ground, once resting on top of their handmade shafts, shot and lost in an effort to kill game, other natives and settlers.

To me, as a kid, they were simply something we hunted for, found with great regularity and collected. Until I read this enlightening book, I didn’t have a true understanding of the historical significance they held. As a sentimental man who keeps things because of the places they return me to, I knew that my arrowheads were someplace in my home, but where? I wanted to see them in a new light, caress their flinty edges and feel their sharp points, imagining their history. After a long search, I discovered my lost treasures tucked behind some books in my bookcase. I pulled them out and was transported not only to my childhood, but now, as well, to the time of the Comanches who fought in vain to hold their place on the Panhandle plains.

Compiled by Sheri Baer & Melissa Typrin

The holiday season is all about giving. Whether it’s giving gifts, money or time, the mindset is thinking about others. But it’s always good to remember that help is needed throughout the year. Here on the Peninsula, there are countless ways to volunteer, whether you’re looking for a one-time event or an ongoing commitment. Even better, with a little effort, you can find a worthy cause that directly taps into your skills and interests. Continuing PUNCH’s own holiday tradition, here’s our annual sampling of fresh ideas to get you inspired. For more opportunities, check out volunteermatch.org

Save Senior Pups

Although puppy love is undeniable, back in 2007, Sherri Franklin set out on a mission to “make senior dogs sexy.” She founded Muttville to save the lives of dogs that were considered “unadoptable” for no other reason than they were older. Since then, Muttville has become a model for animal rescues, with more than 10,000 dogs going to loving homes rather than spending their last days in shelters. Muttville rescues anywhere from 15-25 senior pups each week from across the Bay Area and beyond. In addition to fostering dogs while they wait for adoption, there are numerous ways to contribute—whether it’s creating adoption videos, staffing outreach events or transporting pups. Volunteers are asked to commit to at least three hours a week for a minimum of six months. See muttville.org/volunteer for all the ways you can help.

Shoot Pro Bono

If your favorite place to be is behind a camera lens, ProBonoPhoto offers a way to donate your expertise to support worthy causes. Founded by retired scientist and biotech executive Jack Owicki, the service acts as a clearinghouse—matching up volunteer professional and advanced amateur photographers and videographers with Bay Area nonprofits engaged in community service, social justice or environmental advocacy. After managing volunteer photography for the Bay Area Women’s Marches in 2017, Jack heard photographers saying they’d like to do more. Whether it’s large events, publicity photos, headshots or photo essays—an Earth Day tree planting, 9/11 memorial or a vigil for peace in Ukraine—ProBonoPhoto prioritizes clients who are not well funded enough to pay for professional photography. A fast mid-range zoom lens typically works well, and for indoor events (where flash isn’t allowed), you’ll need a camera with high ISO capability. To see if you’d be a good fit, visit
probonophoto.org

Be a Sport (Coach)

Did playing a sport make a difference in your life? Then volunteering as a coach might be a slam dunk for you. Between local YMCAs, youth organizations and public schools, opportunities abound with training frequently provided. At the Palo Alto Family YMCA, the youth basketball league team coaches are 100% volunteer-driven. If an overhead smash is more your style, the East Palo Alto Tennis & Tutoring Academy (EPATT) needs coaches for the next generation of players. EPATT is a free youth education program that serves K-12 students in under-resourced communities. As a volunteer coach, you’ll teach students the basics of the game, with a focus on fun, teamwork and sportsmanship. In tandem with academic tutoring (another volunteer opportunity), students learn how they can up their games both on the court and in the classroom. For more information, email tennis@epatt.org or visit epatt.org/get-involved

Give Nature a Boost

What we appreciate and love, we protect. That’s the premise of Environmental Volunteers, a local nonprofit dedicated to educating Bay Area kids since 1972. If you’re passionate about science and nature, this is your chance to lead hands-on programs designed to inspire the future stewards of Earth. After starting with a few schools in Palo Alto, the program now reaches 10,000 students in 70+ San Mateo and Santa Clara County schools with its cutting-edge science curriculum. Engage with small groups in a classroom setting—through games, experiments and even animal encounters. There’s also a need for community and outreach volunteers at the EcoCenter in Palo Alto or as a Foothills Park Trail Ambassador. Other opportunities include helping with after-school programs, guided walks and event staffing. No experience is needed and training sessions are provided on a rolling basis.
Visit environmentalvolunteers.org or email volunteer@environmentalvolunteers.org for more information.

Engage your Green Thumb

Willing to get your hands dirty? Then get ready to dig in! Volunteers are needed all over the Peninsula. Take your pick: school, garden, park or historic house? At Hidden Villa in Los Altos Hills, volunteers pitch in to work in the field alongside the farm crew or sign up to join the “Dirty Knees Brigade” at Palo Alto’s Gamble Garden. Also in Palo Alto, the Museum of American Heritage needs garden volunteers to help with watering plants, weeding, transplanting and fertilizing. Through San Mateo County Parks, volunteers and staff work at different locations each week—teaming up to clear trails and restore native habitat, whether it’s invasive plant removal or planting native vegetation. Pick your favorite path, then check websites to explore volunteer opportunities.

Talk Up Your Town

Become a hometown hero by preserving the history of your own community. You’ll find no shortage of ways to get involved. Head over to the Los Altos History Museum, which explores the area’s rich heritage and how the “Valley of Heart’s Delight” evolved into today’s Silicon Valley. Opened in 2001, the museum will be launching a new immersive, multimedia permanent exhibit in 2023 and is looking for docents comfortable with high-tech, interactive elements. Just across the courtyard, ambassadors are also needed to welcome visitors to the landmark J. Gilbert Smith House, which has been refurbished to replicate a 1930s farmhouse. Learn how to get involved at losaltoshistorymuseum.org. Meanwhile, in San Carlos, you can volunteer to become a “Villager” docent at the Museum of San Carlos History. Beyond occasional museum duties, Villagers collect and safeguard San Carlos memorabilia and help out with annual events including Hot Harvest Nights and Home Town Days. Look for more details at sancarloshistorymuseum.org

make time for kitty cats

If you consider yourself a cat person, why not make some meow time? By joining the team of volunteers at Palo Alto Humane Society, you can make a difference to the lives of cats in our community. Two hours a week is all that’s required to bring food to feral cat colonies in parking lots, backyards and bushes. Or, help out with TNR (trap, neuter and return) of homeless and feral cats. Volunteers are needed to drive them to clinics and house them overnight while they recover from surgery. If you can make a short-term commitment (four to eight weeks), consider fostering a litter of homeless kittens or an adult cat until a permanent home can be found. Training, support and supplies are provided—just be ready to play, feed and cuddle. Find out how to get involved at paloaltohumane.org or email pahs@paloaltohumane.org

Provide Compassionate Care

Do you enjoy art, music, poetry or reading aloud? Perhaps you’re a good listener or speak a second language. Those are just a handful of ways you can provide important emotional and social support to hospice patients and their families. It can even be as simple as taking a short walk or running an errand. San Mateo County’s first hospice program, Mission Hospice & Home Care, is an example of a nonprofit organization that welcomes volunteers willing to share their special training and interests or even a friendly pet. Providing end-of-life care in San Mateo and northern Santa Clara counties, Mission Hospice says musicians are especially in demand with patients frequently asking if someone can sing, play an instrument or just listen to music with them. Direct care volunteers make weekly visits to homes, nursing facilities or wherever patients live. Volunteer hours are flexible, depending on the needs of a patient’s family and your own schedule. See how you can help in a meaningful way at missionhospice.org/volunteer

act on your interest

Do you revel in drama (or comedy or musicals)? The Peninsula theater community is always eager for helping hands—whether it’s a youth production or Silicon Valley’s leading professional nonprofit theatre company. In the case of the latter, TheatreWorks presents year-round performances in the Mountain View Center for the Performing Arts and at the Lucie Stern Theatre in Palo Alto. If you have evening and weekend availability, consider helping out as an usher or concession volunteer, which also lets you see the show for free. Hospitality volunteers assist with special events, from opening night parties to annual galas. As a resident volunteer, you can also donate your time to TheatreWorks’ offices on a regular basis. Additional perks for your work: attending final dress rehearsals, special discounts and an invite to the annual “Thank You” party. Register online at theatreworks.org or reach out to volunteers@theatreworks.org

Spread some library love

Do you fondly remember library time as a kid? Here’s your chance to help foster a lifelong love of learning in others. California consistently ranks near the bottom for school library funding nationwide. The mission of Access Books Bay Area is to level the literacy playing field for K-8 students in low-income schools by providing access to high-quality, culturally relevant books and transforming neglected school libraries into inviting and comfortable places to read. Check in regularly for immediate ways to help out such as painting wall murals or processing and delivering books for local school libraries, classrooms and free book boxes. You can also directly contribute by running a book drive to collect books and donations or donate books through the nonprofit’s Amazon wish list. Go to accessbooksbayarea.org or email books@accessbooksbayarea.org to discover all the ways to get involved.

You’re likely wondering how I came to have such a fancy name. My new family thinks it’s because the beautiful spots on my ears look like gems but they don’t really know for sure. What is for certain is that I was well-loved (and well-fed) before Kim and Steve adopted me. Back in 2020, when my original family in Modesto couldn’t keep me any longer, they drove me to the Peninsula Humane Society & SPCA because they knew I could stay as long as it took to find me a new home. And that’s exactly what happened. After I was featured as the “Dog of the Week” in the local paper, Kim and Steve instantly recognized the jewel (or Jewels) that I am and brought me back to Los Altos. Back then, I was considered a nine-year-old “senior” dog—admittedly on the chubby side. I recently turned 12 and I’m in better shape than ever. I’ve trained Kim and Steve to walk to our local pet supply store. Despite the free treats I’m always given, I’ve managed to slim down thanks to our daily outings. Talk (or bark) about a win-win! I also get exercise through backyard squirrel patrol duty. I may waddle when I walk, but I sprint like a puppy when I need to remind those pesky varmints who’s in charge. Still, I’m a lady at heart. Not only do I have gems on my ears, I’m also known for my delightful fragrance. When Kim and Steve smell my herbal scent (and see my green face), they know I’ve been up to my other favorite pastime: rolling around in the rosemary bushes.

Words by Jennifer Jory

In the heart of Portola Valley, well-groomed horses prance around an arena in a postcard-like setting. After instructing six riders with laser focus, Spring Down Equestrian Center (SDEC) owner Carol Goodstein walks her five rescue dogs and then prepares for a full slate of training classes in the afternoon. “I love what I do and it’s my passion,” she beams. “I feel fortunate that I do what I really enjoy.” With a quick stride and the energy of someone half her age, Carol presides over the three-acre ranch that preserves a family-like atmosphere and a slice of equestrian life on the Peninsula.

Married at 19 to her late husband Stan, Carol studied at San Francisco State before switching to an accounting program to help Stan in his new venture, which became the 13-store mattress chain Slumberland. They soon had two children: first Gary, then Lori. Stan, also an animal lover, enthusiastically supported their purchase of Spring Down in 1984, and while he had other interests besides horses, he always gave in to adding more horses and dogs over the years. “When my husband decided to get out of the sleep business, I had six horses,” she recounts. “We bought Spring Down and it all blossomed from there.”

Carol’s rescue poodles crowd Spring Down’s office, which is staffed by young riders who share her passion. “Horses became my second love after dogs,” she relays. At just seven years old, Carol started riding and taking lessons in San Francisco at Stanyon Stables. After a fire destroyed the property in 1944, she moved to St. Francis Stables on Arguello Street. “It was a lot of fun in those days,” she remembers. “I spent a lot of time riding on the beach and in Golden Gate Park.” Carol also enjoyed Lowell High School’s after-school riding program, where she ran the end-of-the-year horse show. Until just recently, she led Spring Down riders on horse excursions from Golden Gate Park to the beach so they could experience the same ride she cherished growing up.

When Carol is not teaching one of her 50 weekly riding lessons, her mission to safeguard horse property on the Peninsula keeps her busy. Her commitment runs so deep that this year she pledged the (mortis causa) donation of Spring Down to the San Mateo Horseman’s Association, an organization founded in 1940 to support the local legacy of horsemanship. “I don’t want horses to disappear from this area,” she stresses. “People are selling their property and moving out of California. I want Spring Down to stay horse property.”

Carol’s generosity and commitment to her goal of maintaining open space and equestrian life on the Peninsula began nearly 20 years ago. In 2000, she sold the front six acres of Spring Down to the town of Portola Valley with the directive that it could never be developed. With her recent pledge, Spring Down will continue serving the community and offering lessons and camps for riders in perpetuity.

“This is what God put me on Earth to do,” Carol believes. “To save kids, horses, dogs and cats too. It is just my thing.” She explains that when young people are going down the wrong path, horses and the discipline of riding can play vital roles in correcting their direction. “When a horse needs you,” she says, “you respond to it and the horse responds as well.” Carol underscores a horse’s keen ability to read human emotions and sense a nervous rider. She teaches students to breathe deeply and relax and says that when this happens, it transforms the rider and their relationship with the horse.

In 1982, Carol jumped into professional riding and showing at events at the Woodside Mounted Patrol grounds and in Gilroy and Carmel Valley shows. ”I wanted to have fun,” recalls Carol. “I didn’t like the competition or the attitude. Everyone hated or loved their horse by the end of the show and I didn’t like that.” Her experience translated into a philosophy that teaches riders to view horses as companions rather than competitors.

“Anyone can come here and learn to ride,” she says. “You tell us what you want to learn and we will teach you.”

An animal lover at heart, Carol emphasizes education and teaches riders how to bond with horses, to spot what triggers a horse and how to get a horse back on the thinking side of its brain. “Most of my horses have been my pets,” she shares. ”I have a little different attitude here and everyone has fun. The people who ride here just want to be around horses. They want the connection and we provide it.”

Reflecting on life at Spring Down, Carol summarizes, “This is home to a lot of people. The minute they drive in, they’re family. My property manager Manuel came with Spring Down and our head groom Francisco has been here longer than me.” Carol confirms that the legacy she hopes to leave is for the Equestrian Center to continue its hundreds of weekly lessons and camps for generations to come. She credits Spring Down for countless personal lessons in patience and humility and laughs, “Just about the time you think you know it all, the horses teach me there’s more to learn.”

Get Ready to Ride – springdown.com

Words by Sheri Baer

“It’s lit!” That’s what they first said about Pigeon Point Lighthouse on November 15, 1872—and it’s still true in 2022 as this iconic Peninsula landmark celebrates its 150th anniversary. Standing at a majestic 115 feet, the light station is the tallest tower (tied with Point Arena) on the West Coast. Originally called Whale Point, the headland was renamed Pigeon Point to honor the ship “Carrier Pigeon” that ran aground here in 1853 en route from Boston to San Francisco. Built to guide vessels safely through the foggy, treacherous coastal waters, Pigeon Point Lighthouse originally signaled mariners with a 2,000-pound Fresnel lens that delivered the illumination power of 500,000 candles. Perched on a cliff about five miles south of Pescadero, the white brick structure served its duty—and became a popular tourist attraction. However, over time, the lighthouse fell into disrepair and was closed to the public in 2001. Using an automated LED beacon, Pigeon Point continues to be an active Coast Guard navigation aid, and at Pigeon Point’s Fog Signal Building, visitors can view exhibits and artifacts including the tower’s original Fresnel lens that’s on display. The structures at Pigeon Point’s base also put out the welcome mat after being converted into Hostelling International vacation rentals. Listed on the National Register of Historic Places and designated as a California Historical Landmark, the famous tower is finally getting a new lease on “light.” In 2021, the California State Legislature approved full funding to complete an $18.9 million restoration project.