Advertisement
www.sfexaminer.com/articles...rkery.txt
By P.J. Corkery
Published: Sunday, April 17, 2005 11:28 PM PDT
Ninety-nine years ago today, at dawn, poet Joaquin Miller awoke in his home in the Oakland hills, which included a rustic sanctuary. "The first I knew," he wrote, "my cattle began to low and my cats came into my chapel, and I thought there might be a strange dog. … Then two little talented birds came into the chapel and a humming bird out of the apple tree came in and there was a bump and a thump as if I were in a small boat bumping against a wharf. …" He felt a few more bumps.
....
"But then came the dogs," Simpson remembered, "couriers of the cataclysm … their jaws were dripping. They moaned and whined. All of them panted steadily up the steep hill. Then I knew that, bad as it had been with us, on the hills, the darker chapters of the story of woe were [in] the lowlands and in the valleys. We were shaken but safe; below us were nameless horrors, the dogs knew, and knowing, ran to the high places."
....
In the smoking ruins, editor Simpson set up a makeshift newspaper office. For days, all was chaos; all were dispirited. Then suddenly, Simpson noticed, "a sleek cocker spaniel, very weary, called upon us. … In his mouth he carried a big beef bone. When he lay down in utter weariness, he put his paw on it just as men with guns and clubs were standing guard on nearby streets over their little heaps of burnt and blistered, battered cans. …
"I saw the managing editor reach down a grimy hand to pat the wanderer and was glad." … San Francisco's dogs had come back from the hills. ...
By P.J. Corkery
Published: Sunday, April 17, 2005 11:28 PM PDT
Ninety-nine years ago today, at dawn, poet Joaquin Miller awoke in his home in the Oakland hills, which included a rustic sanctuary. "The first I knew," he wrote, "my cattle began to low and my cats came into my chapel, and I thought there might be a strange dog. … Then two little talented birds came into the chapel and a humming bird out of the apple tree came in and there was a bump and a thump as if I were in a small boat bumping against a wharf. …" He felt a few more bumps.
....
"But then came the dogs," Simpson remembered, "couriers of the cataclysm … their jaws were dripping. They moaned and whined. All of them panted steadily up the steep hill. Then I knew that, bad as it had been with us, on the hills, the darker chapters of the story of woe were [in] the lowlands and in the valleys. We were shaken but safe; below us were nameless horrors, the dogs knew, and knowing, ran to the high places."
....
In the smoking ruins, editor Simpson set up a makeshift newspaper office. For days, all was chaos; all were dispirited. Then suddenly, Simpson noticed, "a sleek cocker spaniel, very weary, called upon us. … In his mouth he carried a big beef bone. When he lay down in utter weariness, he put his paw on it just as men with guns and clubs were standing guard on nearby streets over their little heaps of burnt and blistered, battered cans. …
"I saw the managing editor reach down a grimy hand to pat the wanderer and was glad." … San Francisco's dogs had come back from the hills. ...
posted by:
|
Unsubscribed |
Advertisement
Advertisement
