Author: punchwpadmin

You know how some dogs have such an amazing sense of direction that they can find their way home, even if they get lost hundreds of miles away? When they show up months later, people say, “What a smart dog!” I, too, have an incredible mental map of my own, but I credit my stomach more than my brain. Without fail, I can guide my human family (whether they like it or not) to the most delicious locations in Menlo Park and Palo Alto. That nice house with the dog treats near Draeger’s Market? Check. The Ace Hardware in Palo Alto that thoughtfully provides fallen popcorn? Check. And my favorite place of all, Mademoiselle Colette, which has the most scrumptious croissants? Check. I like to start my food-finding missions early. My humans don’t need to bother with annoying alarms, because I helpfully bop them on the head with my paw well ahead of time, to let them know the sun is up and I’m ready to scour the streets for yummy treats. You might even call me a connoisseur, although I am not so snooty that I won’t help clean the floor beneath my baby brother when he eats. Anything for family!

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 Johanna Harlow

If you’ve ever watched motorsports, you may have pictured yourself behind the wheel of a sleek, sexy stock car, effortlessly cruising the track’s turns. Not so fast. It might look like a breeze, but NASCAR racing drivers like 19-year-old Jesse Love know better.

“Nothing’s more physically exerting than running a full race on a really hot day,” the Menlo Park native acknowledges. “It’s hell on your body.” These speed machines can match the G-force that astronauts experience during liftoff. And then there’s the heat factor. The temperature in a car can easily soar to 120 degrees Fahrenheit—170 degrees by the floorboards. Drivers commonly lose 5 to 10 pounds in sweat during a race. Now imagine trying to make split-second decisions at 200 MPH, over several hours. It’s why Jesse starts each day with heat tolerance training, welcoming the morning at 5AM with cardio and weights in a sweltering 120-degree room.

While other kids played with Hot Wheels and Matchbox toy cars, Jesse took the driver’s seat early. As a kindergartner, he recalls hanging out at a Mountain View race shop with his Uncle Tony, whose two daughters raced in quarter midgets (think go-karts but with four-wheel suspension). “Then I got into Antonia’s purple quarter midget,” Jesse recalls. That was all it took. After winning his very first quarter midgets race at the wee age of five, Jesse continued competing—racking up countless wins, including multiple state and national titles, all before he reached age 10.

Then Jesse started strapping into stock cars. Full-throttle ahead, he moved to North Carolina at 15 to further his career, that same year dominating in the ARCA Menards Series and becoming the youngest driver to win a title. He now competes full-time in the NASCAR Xfinity Series and drives the No. 2 Whelen Chevrolet for Richard Childress Racing.

Though racing may be physically taxing, Jesse estimates it’s only 30% of the battle. “There’s a lot of pressure involved,” he shares, mentioning that one of his mental coaches, Akshay Nanavati, is a Marine veteran—and the first polar explorer to undergo a solo sea-to-sea ski crossing of Antarctica with no sled or dogs.

Jesse must be bold on the track, taking calculated risks, managing stressors and reacting to the unexpected. He must dart into narrow gaps with the kiss of a bumper—because even a moment’s hesitation will close that window of opportunity. He must also make peace with crashing, which in motorsports isn’t an “if,” but a “when.” “I’ve flipped probably a dozen times,” estimates Jesse, adding with a note of neutrality, “The flips don’t always hurt the worst because stuff’s flying off your car, and you’re dispersing energy.” Hitting dead on the wall is more brutal on your body—even with the car’s head-and-neck restraints. “I wreck a lot less now than I did then when I was trying not to wreck,” he reflects. “You just kind of get in a zone.” And when the inevitable happens? “You just hop on out and live to race another day.”

A strong Christian, Jesse credits a faith-driven frame of mind for keeping him grounded in the wake of national recognition. “I’m racing for someone bigger than me,” he shares. “Being connected with God and treating people the same, whether they’re from Park Avenue or a park bench.”

He also cites his father as a strong influence. Jesshill “Duke” Love drove in quarter midgets himself in his youth, competing alongside his racing pal Jeff Gordon. Though he later pursued a career in law in Redwood City rather than continuing down the racetrack, Duke shaped his son’s integrity and driving style. “You change a lot,” Jesse reflects of his racing approach, “but your core values of how you’re going to race, how you’re going to let people race you, what your driving style is, what kind of car (tight, loose, however that is)… how I like to drive now was ingrained in me when I was raised by my dad.” He follows up, adding, “The most important advice that my dad gives me has nothing to do with racing at all. It’s all about life.”

Whenever he can, Jesse tries to spend time at the shop where mechanics disassemble, replace, install and adjust every part of his car. “I’m a big believer in being available and showing people that I care,” he says. “I want my guys at the shop to know that I’m gonna work really hard for them. And when that happens, they’re gonna work harder for me as well.” It takes a village to raise up a racing driver and Jesse’s crew chief, car chief, shock, engine and tire specialists, engineers, shop team and pit crew keep him on track.

With a racing nickname like The Hammer, it’s unsurprising that Jesse takes such a dogged approach to growth. “There’s a million things that you can do to just move the needle 1% forward,” he says. If that means poring over data, working with the simulator, attending countless pre-race meetings or watching 16 hours of film from Daytona until his eyes fatigue, so be it. “Even if you look at five hours of data and you find one thing that can help you go faster, we would all give our right thumb to find a tenth of a second,” Jesse states.

“I’ve qualified by a thousandth of a second—and I’ve been beaten by a thousandth of a second.” The young driver’s gaze drifts as his thoughts turn to the road. In his mind’s eye, he’s already hugging the turns and zipping down the straightaways of his next race. “I try not to focus on what any other driver does,” he shares. “I try to just focus on what I did today and what I can do tomorrow that was better than today.”

As a purebred Whippet, the breed with the fastest acceleration, you think I’d be in too much of a hurry to get to know you, but really, I’m happy to meet just about everyone. There’s a cute little kink in my tail that kept me from competing in dog shows, but my sweet personality won over Steve and Cheryl, who adopted me as a companion for their older Italian greyhounds. Thanks to my gentle disposition, they soon got me certified as a therapy dog. Now I get to meet all sorts of new people while visiting high schools and nursing homes. When I go to libraries, children like to practice reading books to me while I listen patiently. When I’m not working, I like to sit on the sofa and request that someone join me for a good snuggle. (I’ll admit, there may be whining involved.) And if someone’s in bed, I will be right there with them, to make sure they don’t get lonely. Cheryl says I sleep in the craziest positions, but I’ll have to take her word for it. I suppose there might be some photographic evidence on my Instagram: @josiejowhippetgirl. That’s not to say I’m lazy. I vigorously protect my home in San Mateo from squirrels. My speedy lineage mostly comes out when it’s mealtime. I zoom and ricochet all over while my food is prepared. But once I’ve eaten, I’m ready to relax and cuddle again.

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 Johanna Harlow

Interested in a little magic? Robert Strong poses this question to a table of strangers at a restaurant. They assess this newcomer a moment before slowly giving their consent. But as Robert holds out a wad of cash, turning Washingtons into Benjamins, they uncross their arms and lean in. By the time he’s started making cards disappear, the wariness has melted into warmth. He leaves the table having gained a few new friends.

“Magic changes people,” Robert observes as he moves away. “They behave like nine-year-olds who’ve just discovered that there really is magic in the world. I love that change: from being skeptical, ‘Why would I want to watch this?’ to, ‘You gotta see what I saw!’”

Robert has lit up audiences in all 50 states and 45 countries. “Kids’ birthday parties, schools, fairs, festivals, colleges, universities, comedy clubs, cruise ships,” he ticks off on his fingers. What’s more, he’s appeared on Penn & Teller: Fool Us, given a TED Talk, served as an artist in residence for the Smithsonian and carved out a niche for himself performing at Fortune 500 companies.

He’s even performed for two presidents. “Very different,” Robert chuckles of his two visits to the White House. “For George Bush Sr., they took apart all my stuff, put it through the X-ray machine, searched under my car—and for Bill Clinton, they’re like, ‘Oh, you check the missiles at the next gate. Just kidding. Come on in!’”

Robert’s first encounter with magic occurred at the age of 12 when a street performer’s act held him spellbound. “Time stood still. It was like, ‘This is the thing,’” Robert recalls. “A switch flipped in my brain. I said, ‘That’s what I want to do.’” On a mission, Robert learned his first few tricks from a podiatrist who shared an office building with his father, then improved his sleight of hand at Tannen’s Magic Camp. “Every waking hour was reading and studying and training.”

Then came his first gig. “It was a kid’s birthday party, walking distance from my house,” Robert reminisces. “It was a 10-minute show and I got paid $10. I was like, ‘A dollar a minute? This is it!’ I took that $10, bought another magic trick and kept going.” These days, youthful audiences aren’t his focus. “You don’t have to win them over,” he shrugs. There’s something more gratifying about converting adults from cynics into believers.

As Robert developed as a performer, he took up improv comedy. He recalls a particularly memorable evening sharing the stage with the late Robin Williams. Of everyone performing, “I was by far the youngest and least experienced,” he recalls. So he asked the other entertainers if they’d like to warm up first by spitballing about current events and pop culture. All but one said no. “Robin Williams, who was in person very soft-spoken and gentle, very thoughtful, he said, ‘I’d like to warm up.’” Everyone changed their tune and joined in. “He took care of everybody! I learned so much from him.”

As Robert looks back on his journey, he reflects, “I used to love the trick. Then I loved the laughter. Then I fell in love with the fact that, with magic, you get connection.” He credits his success to taking an audience-first approach and avoiding one-size-fits-all routines. “The thing that differentiates me from other magicians is not the tricks, not the pickpocketing, not the juggling. It’s that I really personalize the experience,” he concludes. “That’s become my calling card.”

For the past two decades, he’s brought that talent to corporate gigs. It starts with doing a 20-minute culture interview in advance of every performance. “I ask things like: What’s unique about your company? What are your goals? Who’s your competition?… What’s funny about your company? What is the gossip at the water cooler that everyone likes to complain about?” If the head of the company is known to pop up unexpectedly, Robert has the CEO appear during his show. If everyone drinks LaCroix, or the corporate softball team gets a tad too competitive, he’ll weave in a joke about it. “The illusions that I create are never the same,” he says. “I want them to ask, ‘Does he actually work here?’”

It’s also Robert’s job as CMO (“Chief Magic Officer,” he jokes) to inspire business teams. “If you want to create a culture or an experience for a customer that feels like magic, you do a lot of work that’s invisible,” he explains. “I give examples of magic tricks that I perform that take a lot of prep work that you don’t see. When it works, it feels like magic. It’s instant. You don’t see the thousands of hours that went into getting it right.”

He shares this lesson and others in his book Amaze & Delight: Secrets to Creating Magic in Business (“And it should be ‘and Life, Too,’” Robert comments). He co-wrote it with David Martinez, a former marketing professional who quit his job at Apple to become a full-time magician.

“Magicians will see things from other people’s points of view, put themselves in their perspective,” Robert says of his empathetic approach to magic. “The high you get, the hit that you get from entertaining other people, bringing joy to other people, will be more than what they receive.”

To watch Robert work his magic at The Guild in Menlo Park or other venues around the Bay Area, check out his website: strongentertainment.com

Words by Dylan Lanier

The Folger family may be best known for its popular brand of instant coffee, but it developed a more elegant kind of “grounds” in Woodside. In 1902, the eldest son of Folgers Coffee’s founder, James Folger II, purchased 1,500 acres in Woodside for a summer estate. He was one of many prosperous San Franciscans who built elaborate second homes on the lower Peninsula where they would spend summers enjoying the warm, sunny weather. While opulent mansions were abundant in those days, his remarkable horse stable set the Folger estate apart from the rest of the herd. Designed by Arthur French Brown Jr. in French baroque style, the original building featured 16 tie-stalls, a carriage room, living quarters—and some say it was even outfitted with chandeliers and a marble fireplace.

In 1955, the Folgers sold 940 acres to Martin and Muriel Wunderlich, who used the stable to board their horses until they donated the entire property to the County of San Mateo 19 years later, creating Wunderlich Park. While years of deferred maintenance took its toll, the down-on-its-luck stable got new life thanks to a $3.3 million renovation project in 2010. Now the Folger stable serves as a public boarding facility, and enthusiastic equestrians take their horses over to the riding ring or up along the surrounding trails, which are also popular with hikers. The main house is gone, but the stable, along with the carriage house, blacksmith barn, dairy house and stone walls, form the Folger Historic District, which was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 2004. So fuel up with a cup of coffee and spend some time in a world of shiny saddles, stirrups and tree-lined trails, right off of Woodside Road.

Words by Johanna Harlow

It’s a gallery dedicated to the art of steel. Enter Perfect Edge Cutlery in San Mateo—a knife and sharpening shop—and behold Baldwin Blades with birch, maple and walnut handles. Meglio metal etched with swirling Mayan symbols and coiling sirens. Damascus steel with layers rippled like tree rings. Here, even the less flashy knives assume masterful shape and form. Unwielded, these functional beauties await the call to action on the cutting board.

“Our job is to know everything about every one of these knives,” says Tara Ransfer, a self-proclaimed knife nerd who runs the business with her father, Mike Solaegui. From Messermeister to Miyabi, Kai to Kikuichi, Tara knows them all.

Mike’s interest lies in the sharpening side of the business, in returning blades to their intended purpose of slicing and dicing at a rapid staccato beat. He offers this service at the shop—evident in the whir of the sharpening blade in the back room—but also takes out their mobile truck, making rounds to restaurants ranging from mom-and-pop to Michelin-starred. They’ve serviced Google’s numerous campus cafes, the Michelin-darling French Laundry in Yountville, Madera in Menlo Park, and many a Marriott and Hyatt hotel kitchen, among countless others.

And with the motto, “If it has an edge, we can do it,” they hone more than knives, caring for the blades of immersion blenders, kitchen shears and food processors. “They need somebody they trust to do a good job. That’s us,” Mike states. Tara nods her agreement, “Knife sharpening is a skill the same way learning to cook is a skill.” By both sharpening and selling knives, the duo has gained a deeper understanding of this kitchen essential. “Neither one tells the full story,” continues Tara. “If the heat treatment is off with one of the knives, sharpening will tell you which one.”

Mike, once a butcher like his father, understands the value of an effective tool. “My grandfather was the first person who set me up with a tri-stone sharpener to just mess around with,” Tara recollects of her after-school visits to the meat shop.

Now celebrating Perfect Edge’s 30th anniversary, father and daughter continue to steer customers to the right knife through a series of questions. After all, the two-inch paring knife, while great for peeling apples, isn’t up to fileting hefty tuna like the three-foot maguro bōchō blade. “We want to know what you’re going to cut on,” Tara notes, “what you’re going to use the knives on, how much maintenance you’re going to want to do, how much experience you have in using knives.”

Your answers might very well determine where your knife originates. Always on the cutting edge, Mike and Tara’s business became one of the first to sell game-changing Japanese cutlery in the Bay Area. This was back in ‘98, when German knives reigned. “I think it’s fair to say that the Japanese knives were coming in sharper than the German and American-made knives,” Mike says. “It’s harder and more flexible, so you can make it thinner.” Later, celebrity chef Rachael Ray popularized Japanese knives by brandishing her favorite santoku on 30 Minute Meals. “Every time she would talk about it on her show, we would sell 24 or more that week—easily,” Tara recalls.

That doesn’t mean everyone should get one. If you’re used to manhandling your blades, you’d be best served with something more durable. Tara holds up a supple santoku. “You get that in a bone—even on the woody stem of a piece of rosemary—hit that just wrong, and you can chip that edge.” She indicates a German chef’s knife. “This is a little more forgiving in the average person’s hands.” American manufacturers are also stepping up their game of late. “One is not better than the other,” Tara stresses, adding, “Picking the right one for its purpose is ultimately going to give you the best result.”

They also need to know if you’re looking for a reliable workhorse or the luxury experience. “You’ll hear a lot of analogies with cars when knife people talk,” Tara chuckles. Mike points out a Dragon Storm santoku: “Toyota Camry.” Then indicates the wider blade of a Running Man Forge bunka: “Porsche.” “If you want to go four-wheeling, you’re not going to select a Ferrari to do that,” Tara reasons.

With authority forged from decades in the field, the duo also brings their own knives to the table. Like their Dragon series, a line tailored for home cooks and professional chefs alike that blends Japanese and European knife-making traditions. “We design it, we spec it, we pick all the materials, we do the prototype,” Mike explains. “Then we approve the manufacturer’s preliminary production, make corrections, approve it.”

They’ve also carefully considered cost, ensuring their designs are not only aesthetically pleasing, but also affordable for professional chefs. Tara cocks her head at a gyuto chef’s knife with a resplendent redwood handle. “They won’t be beating that up in a 12-hour shift on the line, you know?” That’s why she and Mike tasked themselves with finding an answer to the question: “How much of a knife can we give them for under $200?”

And the pros came. Tara recalls the time the head chef at the Ritz Carlton called at 10:30 in the evening to ask if he could bring over his pal, celebrity chef Anthony Bourdain, for some late-night shopping. “So yes, I had intoxicated chefs in the store after hours,” she laughs.

Back in the day-to-day bustle of the shop, the afternoon sunlight hits the room—and everything glows. Mike and Tara look content among the bristling shelves. “I can have hours-long conversations about nothing but knives,” Tara declares.

Fun Fact: “Almost all culinary knives descend from weaponry,” notes Tara. Take Japan’s Kikuichi Cutlery, which originated from a 13th-century swordsmith, supplying Nara’s warrior monks with samurai blades. Think about that the next time you’re doing battle with an obstinate pineapple.

chop chop! – perfectedgecutlery.com

Words by Sheri Baer

Sheltered by a lush canopy of stately redwood and fragrant bay laurel trees, the gently curving block presents like a storybook oasis in Menlo Park. Slowing your roll comes naturally here—whether you’re walking a dog, pushing a stroller or pausing for a chat. Not surprisingly, when a highly-accomplished couple came across a charming single-level home for sale, they recognized an idyllic setting for raising a family.

Within the passing of a decade, their footprint expanded to include three school-aged children and a dog. What didn’t change was this couple’s devotion to their picturesque neighborhood. When a property two doors down (and nearly double the lot size) serendipitously went on the market, they seized the opportunity to build their dream house—on the street of their dreams.

“They were very organized in how they chose their team and the process,” describes Linda Sullivan, the principal of Sullivan Design Studio (SDS), who initially met with the couple in September 2019. Working with a project manager, the Menlo Park clients ultimately tapped SDS, CKA Architects, Wescott Construction and Keith Willig Landscape—all based in Menlo Park. “It coincidentally turned out to be a local venture,” notes Linda. “Something about this project felt very personal and special, and the teamwork was incredible.”

Over the next three and a half years, as their kids shot hoops just a curve in the road away, their future home emerged from the ground up. Although much larger—three stories and nearly 12,000 square feet—the new structure folded seamlessly into the tranquil scenery around it. “Quiet luxury” is Linda’s descriptive catchphrase. “They had a clear vision and trusted us on the design,” she explains. “The design mimics their personalities. They’re very understated, humble people, so the design isn’t loud, yet it’s still very detailed and the materials are very luxurious and specific to each space.”

Attracted to European style, the couple also wanted to honor the family’s Asian heritage, which is reflected in the architecture and carried into the interiors. SDS senior designer Yoko Kato appreciated the challenge—and the way the blended influences ultimately delivered the desired effect. “You have to capture the essence, not so much the specific elements,” she says. “You have to study really hard to see what works together. We mixed the styles and then put them in a modern way.”

Step into the home, and that’s immediately conveyed. A defining feature in the front entry is custom wood paneling, laser-cut in the shape of the client’s Japanese family crest, or kamon. “She had a kimono with the family symbol,” says Yoko, “and we incorporated that motif into the screens in the entry hall.”

Another priority: durable and highly livable spaces. “They didn’t want a room that was hands-off; every room is conducive to having kids around,” Yoko says. “They wanted each room to have a specific vision but then we needed to make it cohesive.” To achieve that goal, the design team leaned into the use of color and wall coverings, including nature-related themes such as leafy patterns as well as beach, mountain and water elements. “They weren’t afraid of having a lot of colors and texture and patterns in a room,” relays Yoko, “but the overall palette is a muted, very soft pastel color.”

In the dining room, the wallpaper evokes a water or mountain feeling—in a color that’s also soft and serene. The design team proposed an “amazing” light fixture, which they felt grounded the space. The homeowners agreed. “They loved it,” recounts Linda. “It has that earthy element but very light and natural—it felt a lot like them.” The furniture reflects a more simple, European style. “We wanted to highlight the light fixture as a focal element,” she adds. “Everything else works as a backdrop.”

The soft palette extends from the dining area into the living room, a two-story-high space featuring a grand piano with a balcony above. “This room has so many different elements but the fireplace is a focal point,” says Yoko. “We didn’t want to make it too loud because there are so many furniture pieces and the room itself is already impressive.”

The primary bedroom also evokes serenity and calm: flowing, soft drapery, a floral-patterned wall covering, a comfy window seat overlooking the backyard with San Francisquito Creek just beyond. “The bedroom has a lot of pattern but then the color itself is very muted and feels comfortable and cozy,” Yoko says.

When move-in day arrived, there was no need for sad goodbyes. The family’s favorite winding street—albeit a different address—once again welcomed them home. The in-laws settled into the old house, creating easy back-and-forth access for grandparent time. And whether they’re enjoying a backyard barbecue, a piano recital in the living room or ping-pong in the basement, “It comes down to quiet luxury,” Yoko summarizes. “Everything is toned down and relaxed.”

DREAM TEAM

cka-architects.com 
sullivandesignstudio.com 
wescottconstruction.org 
keithwilliglandscape.com
michaelwaltersstyle.com

Words by Johanna Harlow

There’s a significant amount of abstraction in flying—after all, you’re hurtling through the air in a metal tube at 30,000 feet. The familiar landscape becomes a surreal patchwork of shapes and colors through that plane window, a little like a massive, earthy quilt. Artist Linda Gass captures that feeling in her map-like “stitched paintings,” textile artworks that contemplate water and land-use issues in California and the American West.

Though the Los Altos local also works with glass, Linda has an obvious soft spot for textiles. “They tend to have a comforting feeling to them,” she describes. “We’re used to wrapping ourselves in them. We sleep under them.” Her intricate designs are fashioned by drawing with the sewing machine, guiding the fabric with her hands while controlling the speed of the needle. Averaging a mile’s worth of thread per year, tiny stitches coalesce into textured patterns that reflect the environment—rolling grasslands curve and loop, rows of crops form neat lines, rivers and oceans coil and ripple.

The highlight is the water, not just in texture but in color. Through silk painting, Linda commingles an ever-changing blend of aquamarine and turquoise, cyan and seafoam. She traces her aquatic interest back to her mother. Linda recalls her mom warning that if she didn’t finish her salad, it would rain the next day (a superstition from her mother’s own childhood in stormy Luxembourg). But the threat didn’t carry the same weight in Los Angeles, with its stubborn lack of rain. “We have all these lush green lawns and swimming pools,” Linda remembers thinking. “If it doesn’t rain here, where does our water come from? I had no idea. You know…it comes from the tap!” Later, she was shocked to learn that none of LA’s water came from local sources.

Linda’s enthusiasm for maps also started at a young age. The artist’s face softens with nostalgia when she speaks of hours spent whirling her Rand McNally globe. “I’d play this game where I’d spin the globe, and I’d close my eyes and put my finger on it, just to see where it landed,” she smiles. “Mostly, it landed in the ocean because it’s mostly water. Which also left this big impression on me of how much of our planet is water. It was this process of discovery.”

As a student at Stanford University, Linda cultivated her interest in sustainable living. “I lived in a co-op house where we ate vegetarian,” she notes. “We did recycling, we didn’t use paper napkins with our dinners, we baked our own bread and granola…all those good hippie things!” Today, her advocacy-fueled artwork has been shown at Institute and Museum of California Art, and the Oakland Museum of California. It features in publications like American Craft, Bay Nature and KQED Arts as well as a National Geographic publication on unusual maps. One is even on the cover of an environmental science textbook.

One of Linda’s favorite pieces, included in a solo show at the Museum of Craft and Design, is also a very personal piece. The stitched painting, Severely Burned, reveals the crippling damage of the Rim Fire in the Tuolumne River Watershed through an artistically rendered vegetation burn map. Linda has regularly visited and backpacked in Yosemite National Park dating back to eighth grade, when a week-long class trip taught her to appreciate the area’s ecosystem, from its plants and animals to the glaciers that carved its valley.

And she witnessed the fire in person. “There was this cloud—like one I’d never seen before,” Linda says, recalling the unsettling horizon she saw out the bus window. “It was this cauliflower in the sky. It was not a rain cloud. And the underside of it…the whole cloud was gray. There was no white.” The fire burned so hot it had created its own weather, condensing the moisture from the atmosphere into an unnerving pyrocumulus cloud. Linda vividly recollects the flurry of ash later falling like snowflakes, some crusting on her camera’s zoom lens.

Although her work wades through some harsh realities, Linda takes a surprisingly gentle approach. “I use the lure of beauty to look at the hard environmental issues we face—rather than make artwork that may be more ugly, like the subject matter that I’m dealing with, that people might not want to look at. Or live with.” Visually pleasing images make unappetizing truths a little more palatable. “Otherwise, they might want to stick their heads in the sand because it’s overwhelming.”

It’s an artistic choice that reveals her hopes for the restoration of natural beauty. Catching a bird’s-eye view with Linda reminds us to aim higher and choose to thoughfully steward the planet we all inhabit.

Common threads – lindagass.com

Words by Johanna Harlow

While more compact than the Smithsonian’s sprawling National Air and Space Museum, the Hiller Aviation Museum in San Carlos comes alive with more than 50 aircraft and spacecraft. Within its hangar, gliders, helicopters and airplanes are parked in careful rows. Others hang from the ceiling—the tilt of their wings suggesting that, any moment now, they’ll plunge into a series of swoops and spins. This flight of fancy is fueled by the drone of planes taking off and touching down at the San Carlos Airport next door.

“We focus on California’s contributions to aviation—the Bay Area in particular,” explains Jon Welte, Hiller’s president and CEO since last May. “We connect people to advances in aviation that have happened right here.” The museum features replicas and real aircraft from the 1860s to the present day, but World War II is one era you won’t find represented much. “That’s just not our main theme,” says Jon, pointing out aircraft from that time tend to be on the heftier side and he’s perfectly happy not to have to find space for them. “There are other museums that tell that story, and tell that story very, very well.”

If you’d like to learn about the origins of flight and daring pilots, drones and other aeronautic innovations, this is the place. The collection’s large planes will leave you adequately awestruck—especially the Boeing 747 and the first Grumman Albatross to have flown a single-purpose mission to circumnavigate the globe. You’ll also stand in the shadow of the massive jet-black Boeing Condor, with a wingspan longer than an Olympic-sized pool.

A lofty collection like this one doesn’t happen without someone extraordinary. In 1998, the museum took off under the guidance of Stanley Hiller Jr., who founded Hiller Aircraft Corporation in 1942. As Jon enters the hangar, his first stop is a replica of the aviation entrepreneur’s canary yellow XH-44 “Hiller-Copter.” “This was his first helicopter. He built it in an auto repair shop in Oakland,” Jon says, adding, “He was the first test pilot for most of his aircraft, starting with the XH-44. So he designed it, he helped build it and he flew the thing.” And at the age of 18! Hiller’s career took off from there. “The factory that he set up in the late 1940s was located on Willow Road down in what, today, is Menlo Park—quite close to the Facebook campus.”

The ’40s to the ’60s gave rise to some delightfully odd contraptions housed nearby. These include the questionable rotorcycle, a “foldable helicopter” that’s little more than a seat attached to rotor blades, and the madcap Hiller Flying Platform, “the closest design to mimic a magic carpet.” There’s also the Hiller Hornet, with ramjet engines mounted to its blade tips. “This works almost like a Fourth of July pinwheel,” quips Jon.

But Jon’s favorite historic aircraft is the Travel Air found in the Women in Aviation section. It belonged to Louise McPhetridge Thaden, a contemporary of Amelia Earhart. Jon maintains that Louise was the more accomplished of the two. “She needs more attention,” insists Jon, a pilot himself who started flying at 13. “I think if you look at the races that they both competed in and the various records that they each set, Louise Thaden was the more successful pilot—but she wasn’t married to a publicist, so her story wasn’t put out quite as well.” In fact, she set an endurance record in this very plane in 1929. “A truck would drive along underneath them and match them and then they would take fuel up to refuel the aircraft!”

The aviation museum recently marked its own big milestone. “We just celebrated our two millionth visitor coming through the doors,” cheers Jon. He adds that Hiller sees roughly 120,000 visitors per year, with around 10,000 of them coming with school field trips.

The museum offers plenty of hands-on experiences for its young visitors. They can crawl into cockpits, toss parachuters into a miniature wind tunnel, work on engineering and design projects at the Invention Lab or operate quadcopters at the netted Droneplex. On weekends, they can also test their mettle at the Flight Sim Zone, where many a Boy Scout has earned an aviation badge. Under the instruction of real pilots, aspiring aviators take a virtual flight across the Bay, learning to navigate and land their aircraft with rudder pedals, yoke and throttle.

For those who want to make their mark on a plane—quite literally—there’s Hiller’s “very non-historic, non-glamorous” Cessna Cardinal. Visitors cover it with washable-paint handprints in a rainbow of colors. “It’s glorious,” Jon grins. Except for that one time when permanent paint accidentally got used. “That was not my favorite month with the Cardinal,” he admits.

When they’re not covering it in handprints, kids can climb into the Cardinal’s cockpit, manipulate its controls and flip its switches. “It’s unusual to find kids who haven’t been on an airplane ride today. But the experience of flying is very, very insulated from the actual aircraft,” Jon observes. After all, when you board at the airport, you’re traveling through a jet bridge that deposits you straight into a row of airline seats. “You don’t really experience the aircraft even when you’re inside of it. Whereas going up to a small airplane and touching it—that is a very revelatory experience for even older kids and it makes aviation concrete in a way that just going to the airport, and even flying on a modern jetliner, isn’t. So that airplane is very near and dear to me.”

Jon’s own penchant for planes took off at a young age. Not only was his father a flight instructor, but his elementary school was near the main runway of the Long Beach Airport. “Pacific Southwest Airlines was still around,” he reminisces, “and I vividly remember standing on the playground and watching the planes, each with a friendly smile painted on the front, fly past during recess. It never got old.”

Why do kids gravitate to these winged machines? “Transportation in general is cool! It’s something that’s going to go somewhere,” Jon remarks. “Anything that moves is going to be neat for kids. The fact that it flies just adds to that excitement.”

Events are abundant at Hiller Aviation Museum. Holiday festivities include a “leaping leprechaun” skydiving onto the airstrip on St. Patrick’s Day and a helicopter pumpkin drop and Haunted Hangar at Halloween. “We’re going to drop foam footballs for the Super Bowl,” Jon says. The space also gets rented for private events, hosting many a corporate Christmas party, wedding reception and bar mitzvah. “School dances, we get a lot of those,” he notes.

Hiller also collaborates with the San Carlos Airport to host an annual Runway Run in April, which sends joggers from the museum down the airport’s taxiways and runway. And then there’s the Biggest Little Air Show, another partnership with the airport. “It really is little because the aircraft are primarily radio-controlled models,” Jon notes. “But it’s really big in that some of the things that these aircraft are able to do are spectacular.”

Hiller Aviation not only draws crowds, but also community. It’s propelled by Jon and his tight-knit, full-time staff of 10, along with 200 airplane-loving volunteers, nearly half of whom are high schoolers. Volunteers serve as docents, assist with the summer camps and join the crew to restore and rebuild donated aircraft or make full-scale replicas of famous ones.

As Jon completes the tour, he spreads his arms wide, calling attention one last time to the hanging fleet overhead. The rickety wood-framed gliders and the sleek modern jets not only signal aviation’s evolution, but also look expectantly toward its future. “It’s a pretty neat place,” sums up Jon with a boyish grin.

The Palo Alto Junior Zoo’s animal care specialist and ambassador shares the wildest thing she’s ever done, why she loves a certain tortoise and what goes on after all the visitors go home.

What’s your favorite zoo animal name?
Aigon, the one-eyed raccoon, pronounced “eye-gone.”

So what really goes on after-hours? Any animal hijinks?
One early morning, I found all six flamingos going round
and round the hand-washing station, keeping the automatic sprayers activated. Those rascals even figured out how to
open the elevator.

What traits make for a good zookeeper?
A good zookeeper needs to enjoy interacting with humans as much as animals. We are there to share the love for these animals and to create generations of humans who will care to protect them in their natural world.

Who has your vote for cutest animal couple at the zoo?
Without question, Violet and Fern, the African spoonbills. Those two girls are like ladies you would like to sit down and have tea with.

What’s the most unexpected thing you’ve had to do for your job?
Early in my career at the zoo, I was by myself and had to give medication, by injection, to our especially large snake. You have to just straighten your spine and do what needs to be done.

Where are your favorite go-to spots on the Peninsula?
True Food Kitchen at Stanford Shopping Center and The Market at Edgewood. We get our produce for the animals there and they have wonderful food to enrich the zookeepers.

What do you consider a must-do on your bucket list?
I’m living the dream.

What’s new at the zoo these days?
We’ve been incubating ibis and hand-raising them. It’s been thrilling to raise the babies from eggs and then be involved in training them.

How do you recharge your batteries at the end of the day?
A long drive home, along the coast. I live south of Half Moon Bay, near San Gregorio. Then diving into a pile of purring felines when I arrive home.

We understand you have a soft spot for Edward, the African spurred tortoise?
Oh Edward! I love him too much! There’s a communication I feel with him that runs so deep in my heart.

What’s the wildest thing you’ve ever done?
Pulling up a huge alligator from the bottom of a deep pool while doing a life-check in the middle of winter.

What’s something people are always surprised to learn about you?
That I used to fly on a wire, like Peter Pan, for a living. I was employed doing character work in film, commercials and live events for the majority of my life.

Do you have a personal motto?
Leap and the net will appear.

Words by Johanna Harlow

You might be familiar with Cameron’s Pub in Half Moon Bay as “that place with the double-decker bus out front.” But how exactly does a Bristol bus end up on the California coast? Built across the pond, this cheery red giant was designed to be just short enough to pass beneath the arched bridges of the English countryside. First shipped to the States to service Lake Tahoe tourists, it ferried folks from the casinos to the Tahoe Queen moored in Zephyr Cove. Cameron Palmer, whose pub celebrates all things British, repurposed it as a dining area for his smoking customers. “When it eventually rolled into Half Moon Bay, we had a whole bunch of people that were eagerly awaiting it with a pint in their hands,” he says. The bus fits right in with the pub’s other icons of English culture, from the shepherd’s pie and pasties on the menu to the life-sized figure of a King’s Guard, black London taxi and red telephone box. Over its colorful, century-long history, the pub building served as a house of ill repute as well as a mess hall and officer’s quarters during World War II. It’s seen escaped convicts from San Quentin, and Al Capone’s sister ran slot machines downstairs. The Hell’s Angels reportedly once rode their Harley Davidsons right through the front door and up to the bar. More recently, the pub has hosted some illustrious English actors. Gerard Butler stopped by regularly during the filming of Chasing Mavericks and on one memorable karaoke night, Harry Potter’s Daniel Radcliffe belted out the lyrics to Eminem’s “The Real Slim Shady” amid hoots and hollers from the regulars.

Words by Johanna Harlow

Wrongdoers beware: those who underestimate K9 Elvis will soon be singing “Jailhouse Rock.” When this Belgian Malinois and his handler Officer Jason Chice are on the scene, it’s only a matter of time before they track down their quarry.

“We’ve been partners since 2020,” says Jason of the San Mateo Police Department K9 Unit. Back in elementary school, Jason recalls a friend’s father showing up with his canine partner for a class demonstration. The memory stuck with him. “The only thing I’ve ever wanted to do working for a police department was be a K9 officer,” shares Jason, who previously worked as an ambulance driver.

As a dual-purpose patrol dog, Elvis’ skillful performance results from hundreds of hours of training with his handler. “Criminal apprehension is his primary focus,” Jason explains. This includes practice with decoys: courageous men and women clad in protective bite suits willing to face the sharp end of a dog. Dual-purpose K9s don’t just protect police officers. They learn to track people. Some can find guns, while others, like Elvis, sniff out drugs.

But before any of this, Elvis hung out at home with Jason and his family, which includes six other pet dogs. “It’s building that bond like you would with a regular dog,” Jason says of this foundational training. “They get to know who feeds them. They get to know who’s taking care of them… It’s them knowing that, ‘Hey, I can rely on you. You’re part of my pack now.’” He adds, “I don’t think a lot of people know that. They’re part of our family. They’re part of our lives. He is truly a partner.”

So what does a typical day on the job currently look like for these two? “I don’t know if there’s anything ‘typical’ at work,” laughs Jason. But the day always starts with getting into uniform, as both handler and dog suit up in bulletproof vests. Jason and Elvis then head out to keep vigil over the east side of San Mateo. “We’re just on regular patrol like any other officer. The only difference for us is when there are alarm calls.” Whether it’s a burglary or an assault in progress, a stolen vehicle or officers in an altercation, Jason and Elvis are dispatched to the scene.

“There are days where we are going from one end of the city to the other all day long,” Jason says, his upbeat attitude revealing no signs of fatigue. “On an ‘easier day,’ we’ll just patrol our city.” That includes keeping a presence at Bridgepointe Shopping Center: “That way, we deter any thefts from there.”

What truly makes Elvis an asset to the police is his powerful nose. Here’s how Jason describes it: “When grandma’s cooking an apple pie, you smell the apple pie. That’s all you smell. When a dog walks into the room, they smell everything separately. They have 300 million olfactory receptors. They piece everything out: the sugar, everything that’s gone into the crust, the apples, the cinnamon. And they do that in a split second.”

Except instead of dessert, they’re sniffing out drugs and guns. Some K9s are trained to detect gunpowder and gunshot residue, while drug dogs like Elvis can sniff out specific chemicals found in the big four: methamphetamine, cocaine, heroin and ecstasy.

Jason holds up a plastic bone infused with a component of an illegal substance. He attaches it to the underside of the charred and smoky precinct barbecue, an odiferous object for a sensitive pooch. Yet, when Elvis comes on the scene, it takes him less than a minute to beeline for the bone.

Once, on a tracking assignment, Elvis and Jason were called in to locate suspects who’d abandoned their car, split up and fled on foot, with officers muddling the scent. The outcome? “He found all three,” Jason reports.
Jason also oversees the San Mateo K9 unit’s nonprofit, which helps fund the purchase of new dogs, medical bills and care for retired K9s. What keeps the officer’s eye on the ball, or rather the job? “It sounds cliché, but one reason that I got into this line of work is to go out there and help people and make a difference.”

As for Elvis? It’s all a big game. When he stays on task, he’s rewarded with his favorite ball and plenty of treats. “Whether they’re using their nose, whether they’re apprehending someone, it’s all fun for them,” Jason notes with an affectionate scratch behind his Malinois’ ear. “When they’re working, it’s playtime.”

RECRUITING ROVER

Like many Peninsula police departments, San Mateo partners with Redwood City’s Trident K9 Consulting, which handles K9 selections, mostly through breeders in Europe, as well as the training of dogs and their handlers. Temperament-wise, “They kind of match what we look for in an officer,” notes Jason. As for breeds? Typically, Jason sees Belgian Malinois and German shepherd recruits. However, other pups do make the cut. “I’ve been to places and seen a standard poodle used as a dual-purpose K9… I’ve seen pit bulls, I’ve seen Dobermanns.”

Support hotshot hounds – smpdk9.org

At 75 pounds, I am larger than your average Golden Retriever, which proved problematic for my first owner who lived in a very small San Francisco condo. Luckily for me, Sheryl and Lane invited me to live with them in Menlo Park. Now I have a yard for chasing squirrels, and we go on long walks around the neighborhood and in Portola Valley. I am not much interested in the other pups I encounter, but I have yet to find a human I don’t want to meet, greet and, if possible, sit on. It seems I was born to be held and cuddled, and if you stop petting me, I will nudge your elbow until you begin again. If you visit my house, I will be on your lap before you know it, so just settle in and enjoy. I am almost 10 years old and, like the wine I am named after, I just get more golden and sweet every day.

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.

Although I may look like a black Lab, I’m actually a kangaroo in disguise. As you might imagine, this came as a shock to Connie, who always had black Labs while raising her kids in Atherton. Her previous pups were all “gentle service dogs,” so that’s what she was expecting when her son Cory brought me home to her when I was eight weeks old. Sure enough, “soooo calm” is how she initially described me, but I was just biding my time before revealing my true nature. Once I was all settled in, SURPRISE! As it turns out, I’m from a hunting dog line that loves to run and jump. And jump. And jump. It doesn’t take much to unleash my alter ego. At a single ding of the doorbell, my hind legs kick into gear and I bounce up to greet whoever is there. When Cory comes over to take me on an outing, I’ve been known to hop over the bike rack and tailgate in my dash to the car. And forget any obstacle between me and my food bowl. I can clear a four-foot-high table in a single bound if I know it’s chow time. When I’m not channeling my inner kangaroo, I love running—as fast as I can and even in circles. Although I’m not allowed up on furniture, I’ve figured out a way to place my entire body in Connie’s lap with just my back paws on the ground. Who wouldn’t appreciate a cuddle like that? I also make it my mission to wake up Connie every morning at 7AM sharp. (All it takes is a quick lick of the toes.) No lazing about for this kangaroo-canine: I always want to get a jump on my day!

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 Johanna Harlow

For almost a century now, the Stanford Theatre has inhabited downtown Palo Alto. It’s watched shops and decades emerge—and then dissolve. It’s listened as the gravel-y rattle of boxy Ford Model Ts on the street outside gave way to the revving rumble of tailfinned Cadillacs, then to the silent whisper of sleek Teslas. It’s welcomed audiences dressed in pinstripe suits and flapper dresses, tie-dye shirts and flared pants, flowing maxis and khakis.

The theatre’s historical weightiness continues to draw in passersby today. As soon as you make eye contact with the majestic marquee sign above its entrance, the pull is almost irresistible. If you allow it to, the theatre will tug you in through its doors, sweep you across a grandiose, chandeliered lobby, escort you up a blue tiled staircase and, finally, settle you into a red velvet balcony seat. As the crimson curtain parts and a classic black and white movie begins, you’ll have fully traveled back in time.

In the summer of 1925, this neighborhood movie palace opened to great fanfare. The mayor gave a speech. Reginald Denny, star of that night’s motion picture, made an appearance. The newspapers applauded the building’s modern ventilating system, remote-control switchboard system and crushed silver curtains. They marveled at its walls and ceiling coated in Greek-Assyrian paintings and made note of the maid in attendance in the “women’s retiring room.”

These days, you won’t be greeted by an attendant when you visit the washroom, but you’ll still witness décor identical to that of opening night. This hasn’t always been the case. By the time the ’80s rolled around, the Stanford Theatre had spiraled into disrepair. “It was a ramshackle, falling-apart, poor old skeleton of a theatre,” describes Cyndi Mortensen, general manager at the Stanford Theatre and the Stanford Theatre Foundation (the nonprofit that runs it). As it bounced from owner to owner, the elaborate Greek-Assyrian details were painted over, the organ removed. The layer of grime thickened, the seats rusted. Gone were the days dancers, ventriloquists, acrobats and other performers traveled to entertain in vaudeville acts accompanying the movie. Before long, the theatre was reduced to screening second-run action flicks for 50 cents (a dime cheaper than ticket prices here over half a century earlier).

Fortunately, that’s when David W. Packard, the son of one of Hewlett-Packard’s co-founders, burst onto the scene. After beloved singer, dancer and actor Fred Astaire passed away in 1987, Packard rented out the theatre for two weeks to commemorate every movie the star ever made. His modest goal was getting at least 50 people to attend. Instead, more than 1,000 moviegoers lined up each night to savor the spellbinding tap-dance numbers of Astaire in his trademark top hat and tails. After such a remarkable success, Packard convinced his father and the Lucile Packard Foundation to purchase the theatre and grant him stewardship so that movies from the silent era through 1965 could return once again to the big screen.

Coming from a professorial background, Packard unsurprisingly took great pains to reconstruct the theatre’s majestic original appearance. He spent close to two years and $6 million on renovations—a sizable hike from the $300,000 and less than a year it took to initially build the theatre. With the help of a black-and-white photograph and original watercolor sketches, Packard oversaw the return of the Greek-Assyrian detailing. He also restored the period chandeliers, stage pillars, seats and curtains.

But the crowning glory of this jewel box theatre was the Mighty Wurlitzer organ. It took six experts nearly two years to acquire and restore its pieces. Every night since its reopening, the Wurlitzer and its accompanying organist rises out of the stage floorboards during intermission to astound theatergoers with its musical complexity of keys, bells and pedals. “It’s something that people don’t forget,” Cyndi says.

Packard is also behind the carefully crafted movie lineup. “He has very good instincts about these things,” remarks Cyndi, who occasionally contributes ideas herself as well as tracks down 35mm reels from studios and archives. Programs range from genres (like screwball comedies), to directors (like Alfred Hitchcock), to actors (like Jimmy Stewart). In the summer, they spotlight all-time greatest hits.

The most beloved films? “Casablanca hands down,” Cyndi responds. It’s hard not to fall in love with the movie’s suave, affably cynical hero and clever dialogue. (“Here’s looking at you, kid.”) On the film’s 50th anniversary, more people watched the iconic classic here than anywhere else in the country. Other crowd favorites include Wizard of Oz and Gone with the Wind. All three were released between the Golden Age years of 1937 to 1947, which Packard considers the peak of film as an artform. Movies starring Audrey Hepburn or Cary Grant also draw a dedicated following. And, of course, there’s the annual Christmas Eve showing of It’s a Wonderful Life, so adored that people start asking about tickets in July.

“I think most people would assume that we have mostly senior citizens,” Cyndi notes. “We do have some, but we also get all different ages.” Parents enjoy introducing their kids to films they themselves grew up with. “We get these young teenage girls dressed as Holly Golightly. Which is really cute, but I don’t know whether she’s a great role model,” Cyndi chuckles, referring to the main character of Breakfast at Tiffany’s—a high-end escort who sparks with Paul, the “kept” companion of a wealthy socialite. Cyndi also fondly recalls a group of elementary schoolers who showed up dressed as the squirrelly bespectacled actor Harold Lloyd.

Then of course, there’s the Stanford students. They’ve been a core audience at the theatre since the very beginning—for better and for worse. Its close proximity to a college campus inevitably means student hijinks. One such shenanigan dates back to the night of November 7, 1929, when 150 first-years in pajamas rushed the theatre (without paying) and stormed the balcony for a screening of Our Gang. Another night, after the theatre’s restoration, a group of Stanford ballroom dancers twirled down the aisles as the organist played a tango from Astaire’s Flying Down to Rio.

If that wasn’t enough personality for one building, Packard added a gallery, stocking it with original movie posters, newspaper clippings and other ephemera. Cyndi acts as curator, switching out items to match the current program. During the months of “Hitchcock and Other Masters of Suspense,” the walls were bedecked in artistic renderings of intense action shots—like Cary Grant sprinting away from a dive-bombing plane and Grace Kelly struggling to break free from a strangler’s grasp. On special occasions, screenings feature actors’ costumes on display or, better yet, appearances by the actors themselves.

 

Why do old movies continue attracting modern audiences? “I think it has something to do with classic Hollywood acting,” Cyndi muses. “People don’t act like that anymore.” Bygone eras—and the cultures they cultivated—mean a unique approach to storytelling. We’re enthralled by the differences in dress, home life and social norms—but also anchored by those timeless themes. We still empathize with feelings of frustration over injustice, heartbreak over unrequited love, amusement over minor miscommunications. “They continue to move us, speak to us, make us laugh, make us cry,” Cyndi notes. “They have heart. They resonate. They may be old—but they don’t get old.”

show time – stanfordtheatre.org

Words by Sloane Citron

I first met David Altman when I was five, both of us fresh kindergarteners at Temple B’nai Israel Sunday school at the small synagogue that served the Jewish population—what there was of it—in Amarillo, where
we lived.

David went to the next-over elementary school, though we lived five minutes apart and we would attend the same junior high, Stephen F. Austin. When we were in sixth grade, we both received guitars for Hanukkah, and along with Charles Ware, who received some drums for Christmas, we started a band, ultimately dubbed The Psychedelic Vibrations. Like thousands of other garage bands at the time, we played “Louie, Louie,” “I’m Not Your Steppin’ Stone,” “Light My Fire” and dozens more. It was great fun.

David’s mother, Mrs. Altman, was our biggest promoter and fan. We mostly practiced in the Altman garage, and she arranged our performances, helped procure equipment and schlepped us around town in their company van (like half the Jews in Amarillo, they owned a clothing store) with our amplifiers, drums and guitars. I suppose we were cuter than we were good, but for a couple of years we played regularly, usually for $50 a pop, which we were happy to have.

While this was all happening, my own family was falling apart. My sister and brother left for school—my brother to prep school and my sister to college—and then my mother never returned from a concert tour (it’s a long story) before ending up in a major symphony orchestra far from Amarillo. It took a good two seconds for my Dad to find a girlfriend, who would eventually become my stepmother and move into our home, along with her three younger children.

But for a good two years, it was just my Dad and me in our home, and since he was attending to his new girlfriend, I was mostly left to fend for myself. I remember many nights, alone, opening cans from our pantry and making a dinner out of them. I was especially partial to mandarin oranges and smoked fish.

Soon after all this hazarai started, Mrs. Altman had David invite me for the weekend. I was too young and naïve to understand that she saw what was happening in my home and felt a need to help. A woman of valor, she was nothing but kindness, support and love. That first weekend turned into two years of weekends at the Altman home.

Starting from my very first sleepover, I was made to feel like a member of their family. At their modest house, I had my own bed in a large room that had been created for David and his two younger brothers. Mrs. Altman drove me around, made sure I was well fed and hugged me when she sensed that it was needed. I always dreaded Sunday afternoons when my Dad would pick me up.

Mrs. Altman understood my situation much better than I did, knowing that if I was not at her home eating a proper meal, I would be home all alone, or worse, dragged over to the home of my imminent stepfamily. Inevitably, I would get a thrashing after visiting the girlfriend’s home since—and this was and is still true today—I’m not one to mask my feelings. This “new” family was anathema to me, and I was rude and insolent and nasty to the girlfriend and her children. They weren’t bad people; they just weren’t my people and I wanted nothing to do with them.

Mrs. Altman showed the purest form of kindness—the type that doesn’t expect anything in return. Eventually, after my stepfamily moved in with us, my father told me that there would be no more weekends at the Altmans and that I was to stay at home and be a part of our new family. Blah.

It took me a few decades to understand what Mrs. Altman had done for me, offering her unflinching generosity and love. As I matured and had my own children, I came to realize the impact she had on my life. A selfless, maternalistic woman, she never thought about how she had rescued me. She just knew I needed some love, and she was the one to give it.

Through the years, whenever I returned to Amarillo to visit, I always made sure to visit her, and I also called her when memories of that time would pop into my mind. It was important for me to tell her how grateful I was to her. She, of course, scoffed at my praise, but I expressed my feelings, nonetheless. I last talked with her a couple of months ago, checking in just to hear her voice and to ask how she was faring.

There are people so ingrained into our lives that we can’t imagine life without them. But that is, of course, tomfoolery. Mrs. Altman recently passed away at age 92. It was a huge blow, and I am still grieving. I needed to recognize this good woman in these pages and thank her one last time for the gift that she gave me, a gift with no package and no contents, but perhaps the best I was ever given.

Words by Sterling Davies

How do you add playfulness to parking? Artist Gordon Huether has an idea. Standing 13 feet tall just outside Redwood City’s County Garage off Middlefield Road is one of his jumbo-sized art installations entitled Hubcaps. Completed in 2021, the structure consists of 1,000 shiny silver hubcaps arranged around a spherical wire frame and serves as a gateway piece for San Mateo County’s new community office complex, which is currently in the process of construction. Gordon Huether, a New York-turned-Napa artist, has pieces that can be found all around the Peninsula and the world. Ranging from sculptures for animal shelters to privately commissioned artworks, he takes inspiration from nature’s effects on man-made materials as he tells a story that’s unique to the project at hand. Gordon’s work mainly revolves around glasswork, but he has extensive experience creating with steel, resins and salvaged materials. With Hubcaps, he wanted to introduce a whimsical element to an everyday occurrence: parking. Taking inspiration from older cars, Gordon restored countless vintage hubcaps and arranged them in an unexpected way to create a sense of play and breathe new life into recycled materials. So when lousy parking jobs and excessive brake lights steer you into a bad mood, let Hubcaps return the smile to your face.

Words by Kate Daly

Alongstanding pillar in Peninsula landscaping is in transition as Terry Lyngso, the last leader of the family-run business, prepares to sell Lyngso Garden Materials to the company’s dozens of employees. How does it feel to let go of so much history? “It’s hard,” admits Terry, who began working at Lyngso when she was in junior high.

Initially intending to become a special education teacher, Terry, at 23, instead took on the running of Lyngso’s onsite concrete batch plant. In the 1980s, she stepped up to the role of president when her parents retired to travel around the country in their motorhome.

Now 95, her dad, founder John Lyngso, claims that the business originated back in 1936, when he was an eight-year-old living in San Francisco. As John recounted to Terry, he and a friend built a cart and went into the hills to collect “meadow muffins from the cows and sold them to the gardeners in the neighborhood.”

Later on, when Terry’s Danish grandfather, a carpenter, started building homes in Belmont, John excavated the sites and bought land in San Carlos to store the dirt. John also did grading and worked on the 101 freeway. After a contractor asked him to haul in some quartz pebbles and they sold out right away, John brought in more products and set up a company in 1953.
“The focus was always on the landscape contractor and homeowner,” Terry says. “My mom worked in the sales office, took deliveries and answered the phone, and dad did the deliveries. They worked all the time when we [three girls] were little. Fortunately, we lived next door to my grandparents.”

Both families lived in Belmont, not far from the Lyngso business, which operated on what are now runways at SFO. In 1969, airport expansion triggered the Lyngso Garden Materials’ move to Seaport Boulevard in Redwood City. In 2015, Lyngso uprooted again to its current location on Shoreway Road in San Carlos. Terry calls it a great space with more than five acres to showcase all of their sand, gravel, concrete, stone, soil, compost and mulch mixes, garden ornaments, tools and building materials. A small display garden is set up near the bioswale demonstration area that illustrates how runoff stormwater from the parking lot can be captured and filtered with plants.

Terry’s personal leanings towards composting and organics influenced the company’s growth. In early 2000, she says she learned “how important having a healthy living soil is. Important to human health, the planet—everything.” She took classes to become a Master Gardener and Master Composter, and started giving educational talks through Lyngso and other outlets. She plans to continue being involved with the UC Master Gardener program when she retires.

What will she miss when she leaves Lyngso? “I’ve always cared about the people,” she reflects, “and the products have always mattered, education has mattered and being part of the community.” In the early days, the company helped support the Japanese Garden in San Mateo’s Central Park. More recently, Lyngso has provided soil mixes to grow vegetables and pollinator plants at local school gardens. Terry is proud of the role Lyngso has played, along with the company’s reputation for having loyal customers and longtime employees. Like Terry, Vic Thomas has also chalked up 50 years with Lyngso, logging numerous trips to China to source stone products.

Unlike Vic and her parents, “My dream is not to go traveling,” Terry shares. “My dream is to dig into the dirt more.” She and her husband live in Loma Mar, where they have “an amazing native garden” with plants such as coffeeberry and Oregon grape. Bobcats, quail, snakes and insects roam the place and she finds the 400-year-old oak tree that anchors the property “quite awe-inspiring.”

Given that her yard is by her own description “wild and messy,” Terry may have bypassed the latest trends she has observed in landscaping. Customers want yards that are “much cleaner and organized, more outdoor living spaces with outdoor kitchens,” she notes, adding that raised-bed vegetable gardens took off when people were stuck at home a few years back. She shares that creating living green roofs and bioswales have also become popular. And recently, she has noticed more people buying red lava rock and sparkling white stones.

“We’re into a little retro right now,” explains John Lettko, Lyngso’s new CEO. “It’s generational, I think, with kids taking over their parents’ homes and bringing back some of the landscaping they grew up with.”

Terry’s tastes tell the opposite story. After growing up in Belmont, she lived in Woodside for a while, then left to pursue more untamed land in Loma Mar. As she anticipates spending more time in her yard, she’s hoping she’ll catch sight of the mountain lion her neighbor saw lounging on the well house one day.

Words by Sheryl Nonnenberg

Carmel-by-the-Sea has long been a magnet for artists working in a variety of media, from painting to sculpture to prints. A walk around this charming, one-mile-square village reveals an astounding number of art galleries (almost 100). Visiting them all would be overwhelming and certainly implausible in just a one-day outing. But narrow your scope to the medium that has become a signature for this coastal town—photography—and you will be amazed by how much you can learn about the region’s history and the evolution of the West Coast Photography Movement.

Although photographers began capturing Monterey Bay’s white sand beaches and wind-swept cypresses in the late 19th century, the history of contemporary photography from this area really begins with Edward Weston. Weston had an illustrious career that included a Guggenheim Fellowship (he was the first photographer to be given the award) and lived in various places around California. In 1929, he moved to Carmel and began taking black-and-white photographs of the magnificent coastline around Point Lobos. Soon, colleagues like Ansel Adams, Wynn Bullock and Imogene Cunningham joined him, capturing the unique geography of this area in the straight, sharp-focused, framed technique that differentiated them from the “pictorialists” of the past.

Start your historic photography tour with the Weston Gallery, which is located on 6th Avenue, parallel to Ocean Avenue, Carmel’s main street. One of the oldest photography galleries in the world, it focuses on rare fine vintage as well as modern and contemporary photography. Now run by Matthew Weston (Edward’s grandson) and his wife, Davi, the gallery features all of the major names in the medium: Ansel Adams, Eadweard Muybridge, Berenice Abbott, Alfred Stieglitz and numerous members of the Weston family, including Edward, Brett, Cara and Cole. “We have a deep connection to the medium of fine art photography and believe it is of equal importance to that of the traditional fine arts,” Davi explains.

The Weston Gallery has been closed for extensive renovations but reopens in January 2024 with an exhibition highlighting the gallery’s collection of rare, vintage black-and-white works juxtaposed with modern, contemporary color photography.

Edward Weston Dry-Mounting, Wildcat Hill, ca. 1940 by William Holgers.
Photo courtesy of the Holgers family

Cross Ocean Avenue and go one block east to Dolores Avenue, where you’ll find the next stop, Photography West. This gallery has a very specific focus and objective: to promote artists who are dedicated to darkroom craftsmanship. In other words, no digital technology or third-party assistance. Explains gallery director Julia Christopher, “It just so happens some of the greatest darkroom masters in the world lived and worked in Carmel.” Like the Weston Gallery, Photography West holds temporary, curated exhibitions but the work of masters like Ansel Adams and Brett Weston are usually on view in the rear of the gallery.

When asked if she thinks digital photography and AI have displaced traditional photographic methods, Julia responds, “People want to know what they see is real—that there is still beauty to be found in real life, light and chemistry.”

Aspen Grove, Colorado, c. 1993, Cibachrome by Christopher Burkett at Photography West. / Photo courtesy of Photography West

By now, a stop for lunch is likely in order. A short walk on Dolores Avenue leads to popular spots like Little Napoli, La Bicyclette, Mulligan’s Public House or the oft-photographed Tuck Box. Or return to Ocean Avenue for a multitude of other restaurant and cafe offerings.

Fortified and ready to continue? Next up is the Center for Photographic Art (CPA), located in the Sunset Center (a performing arts venue) on San Carlos Avenue. Originally established in 1967 as the Friends of Photography, it boasts Ansel Adams, Cole Weston and Wynn Bullock as its founders. “We try to show a variety of work,” explains executive director and curator Ann Jastrab. “Some traditional-based photography that is analog and printed in the darkroom and some that is mixed-media, digital, sculptural and experimental.”

The Center for Photographic Art (CPA) on San Carlos Avenue is a gallery, membership organization & event venue. Photo courtesy of CPA.

The first exhibition in 2024 is the International Juried Exhibition, which includes portraiture, documentary, landscape and other genres.
Hop back in your car to reach the next venue: Wildcat Hill, the historic home of Edward Weston. Located on Highway 1 between Carmel and Big Sur, it’s about a 20-minute drive south. Along the way, take the time to hike the magnificent coastline that inspired so many of the photographers whose work you have seen by taking a detour into Point Lobos State Natural Reserve. There are myriad trails to choose from, and you’ll undoubtedly be moved to capture your own images of this world-famous sanctuary.

Continuing down scenic Highway 1, it’s easy to see why so many photographers came here to work on their own or to study with Edward Weston, who left behind a photography dynasty with children and grandchildren carrying on the tradition. Wildcat Hill (a name inspired by Edward owning up to 40 cats at one time) served as Edward’s home and studio from 1938 to 1958. For the last several decades, Kim (Edward’s grandson) and Gina Weston have welcomed visitors. Gina explains, “We wanted to share what we love, the original home and darkroom of Edward Weston. Being the stewards of the ‘Weston Legacy,’ this was a way we could give back to our community.”

Consider stopping for lunch at Tuck Box.

Kim, who is also a photographer, uses framed prints in the home and studio to illustrate his grandfather’s techniques. Guests are often surprised at the rustic, almost rudimentary, darkroom where Edward produced so many iconic images. “A living museum is what we call it,” notes Gina. “Oftentimes, when visitors go into the darkroom they get an overwhelming sense of awe and it brings tears to their eyes.”

Kim and Gina also offer fine art photographs for sale, along with photography workshops. Tours of Wildcat Hill are by online reservation only.

Given the relative ease of travel and the ubiquitous nature of photography thanks to cell phones is Carmel still a mecca for the professional and amateur photographer? According to Julia Christopher, “Absolutely! Photographers from all over the world will forever be drawn to its unique, dramatic and truly magnetic natural beauty.”

Get The Picture

- westongallery.com
- photographywest.com
- photography.org 
- kimweston.com

 

As a rescue, I didn’t come into this world as the “pick of the litter,” but I definitely landed on my paws. Back in 2013, Rich and Maureen adopted me from Peninsula Humane Society (PHS) and brought me home to Burlingame. They named me Norman after the calf that was rescued in the movie City Slickers, and I’ve been one lucky dog ever since. Like Maureen, I volunteer at a Burlingame thrift store appropriately called, “The Pick of the Litter,” or “The Pick,” as we regulars know it. All sales at The Pick benefit shelter animals at PHS/SPCA, so I can’t think of a better way to spend my time. After a quick brushing to look my best, I arrive at 11:30AM and swing by the treat jar to mark the official start of my shift. I systematically check out every corner of the store (Call it the Terrier in me!) and then patiently wait for Maureen to research and price donated items, which are placed on the shelf of a rolling cart. It’s my job to supervise, so I always jump aboard to make sure every item is delivered to the right place in the store. From one department to the next, I multitask by greeting every shopper and pup I see. Mid-shift, Maureen and I go out for a walk and swing by Starbucks for a Puppuccino. (That’s complimentary whipped cream in a cup, if you haven’t had the pleasure.) I average about six cart rides a day at The Pick, and then I frequently pull extra shifts with Rich at Home Depot. He’s a general contractor, and he counts on me to help pick up supplies. Here’s a happy coincidence I’ve noticed: Whenever I’m riding in a cart, I always have a view of people smiling back at me.

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 Sheri Baer and Sara Fruman

Amy Roseveare remembers her cruise to Copenhagen vividly. She only had two days in the city known for picturesque canals, cobbled streets and breathtaking castles. Still, as an award-winning stylist and personal shopper with a client visiting the city after her, she needed to tackle her professional agenda first.

“I spent days researching where to shop in Copenhagen,” Amy recalls. “It’s a big shopping destination—and I had this huge list. Once I got there, I spent 100 percent of my time working on that list. Few stores were what I would call up to my standard and where I would want my client to go.”
Before she knew it, Amy had no time to do anything else. That’s when she began to think. What if there was a reliable guide for finding the best stores in cities across the U.S. and worldwide?

Amy began creating The Curated Shopper (thecuratedshopper.com), her little black book of stores, hand-picked and vetted by Amy herself. “This is my pure, objective opinion based on decades of shopping expertise,” she explains. “Everyone knows the most popular spots to shop. My goal is to help you find the hidden treasures.”

Cover Photo Shop: Betty Lin / Shop: McMullen

Always on the hunt for just the right clothing, jewelry and accessories, Amy looks for stores that prioritize customer service, size inclusivity and a range of price points. “I never tell them who I am when I go,” she notes. “I want to know how the normal person going into the store is treated.” She examines the point of view of the owner: “Is this merchandise I’ve seen all over the city or even the world? Or does this store feature local designers?” She also talks to a variety of local experts to make sure her choices are spot-on.

A Bay Area native now based in Burlingame, Amy travels extensively to curate her ever-expanding list of chic international shops. Just in time for the holidays, she teams up with PUNCH to highlight a sampling of the tips she shares with clients and subscribers.

Sethi Couture
290 Main Street, Los Altos
Sisters Pratima and Prerna Sethi created this captivating boutique to showcase their namesake jewelry line as well as other luxury independent jewelry lines. A carefully selected array of home goods is also offered in this zen space.

Angela
1129 Chestnut Street, Menlo Park
Classic with a twist is how I’d describe this charming Menlo Park boutique, with offerings from Peter Cohen and Dorothee Schumacher. Complete the look with jewelry from Ray Griffiths and shoes from Pedro Garcia.

Olivia
315 Main Street, Los Altos
This is THE boutique for under-the-radar Italian luxury fashion! In addition, Olivia sells a highly curated selection of antique jewelry—a gem of a shop.

Found by Maja
3681A Sacramento Street,
San Francisco
Maja has the fabulous ability to perfectly combine vintage pieces along with new items, creating a dreamscape in hues of blues, greens and pinks. It’s a true interior design inspiration.

Betty Lin
3625 Sacramento Street,
San Francisco
Betty Lin hits it out of the park with her lifestyle-driven boutique. She can outfit you from casual to dressy, including all the accessories.

Anthem
1208 Donnelly Avenue,
Burlingame
889 Santa Cruz Avenue,
Menlo Park
3274 Sacramento Street,
San Francisco
The original Anthem Home store in SF has been my go-to for luxe gifts and interior design since it opened in 2008. Now, with multiple Bay Area locations, you can experience the refined choices of owner Janelle Loevner.

Metier
575 Hayes Street,
San Francisco
Sheri Evans and Trina Papini have created everything your jewelry box needs—from current designers to antique treasures. Their taste is impeccable.

Lang Antique &
Estate Jewelry
309 Sutter Street,
San Francisco
This sparkling store is home to one of the largest collections of antique and estate jewelry in the entire country, with a specialty in pieces from 1850-1950. It’s truly jaw-dropping.

MAC: Modern
Appealing Clothing
387 Grove Street,
San Francisco
Since 1980, this has been the go-to boutique for creatively-minded, adventurous shoppers. Siblings Ben and Chris Ospital have an extremely keen and discerning eye for pieces from established and up-and-coming designers you’ll love and wear for years.

Rebecca Overmann
518 Octavia Street,
San Francisco
This inspiring shop is the ideal place to source unique hand-crafted jewelry in San Francisco. Rebecca is especially known for her engagement and wedding rings, and she has done numerous custom projects for my clients.

 

East bay

Esqueleto
482A 49th Street, Oakland
Lauren Wolf has created an inviting oasis of many brands of hand-crafted jewelry and art in this Temescal neighborhood shop. The big, juicy diamond rings from her eponymous line are particularly magical.

McMullen
2257 Broadway, Oakland
This is THE luxury concept store in the East Bay! Sherri McMullen’s creative and fashion-forward point of view comes through in her exquisite selections of clothing, accessories and home goods.

Dish
480 23rd Street, Oakland
Desiree Alexander, with her exuberant personality and cheery smile, shows her distinct point of view with her merchandise. She focuses on sustainable lines, especially from local BIPOC women, which are ideal for a luxe casual look.

beyond the bay

L’Eclaireur
10 Rue Boissy d’Anglas
75008, Paris
This chic concept store in the heart of the 8th Arrondissement in Paris is one of my absolute favorite boutiques! You can shop for men, women, your house and your jewelry box all in one stop. The curation is impeccable.

Capitol & Irene Neuwirth
225 26th Street Site 38A,
Santa Monica
This store is a true shopping destination as it’s home to the luxe clothing store Capitol and a shop-in-shop of Los Angeles jewelry designer Irene Neuwirth.

Sonia Boyajian
357 North La Brea Avenue,
Los Angeles
Sonia, a fine jeweler by trade, is also an exceptionally talented ceramicist. Her by-appointment gallery-like store features her whimsical, luxe creations ranging from vases to jewelry to dishes and beyond. I’ve never left empty-handed.

La Garçonne
465 Greenwich Street, New York
This boutique, which doubled in size in 2022, is a haven for understated, luxe minimalism. Their distinct buy is chock full of timeless, high-quality pieces.

Browns
39 Brook Street, London
Housed in a 17th-century townhouse, here you can explore four tantalizing floors of cutting-edge fashion, jewelry and accessories. They also have a sister store in the Shoreditch neighborhood.

treasure hunt – thecuratedshopper.com