prelude to a farewell

i’ve been mulling this over for a while now. in fact I’ve probably been putting it off. but the reality has caught up with me and it’s time i finally pull the plug on this show and send everybody home.

almost 3 years ago I began this little experiment. the idea was fairly simple. a post each day sharing a haiku. a meditation on the day. it became a kind of creative healing. a place to play and park so many of the thoughts that go rolling around inside my brain. this endeavor kept me active and more engaged with the world around me as i looked for new inspiration.

but time has caught up and shifted me now to a different place. the purpose has, i believe largely been fulfilled. i had wanted to share some things and the way i see the world. and i’ve done that. and sure, i could keep it up i suppose, but now it’s time for other projects.

thanks to all of you who joined me on the journey and who are reading this now. thanks for your comments of encouragement. it means a lot. i plan to leave the blog up indefinitely (that is to say as long as blogger allows) and invite you to visit the archives. if there are any missing links or files related to earlier posts, and you would like some more info or the original file, just shoot me a comment and i’ll be happy to respond as i am able.

and finally for those of you who were always wondering or never thought to ask, here is a little insight on the origins of the name “toastrobot”. back at the beginning of this as i was trying to think of a name, i was looking for something that sounded like two opposing ideas, like “iron butterfly”. i love robots, especially the shiny metal toy variety. and the contrast of a warm piece of toast appealed to me. like something fresh. add to it that my motorbike is commonly referred to as a “toaster” and it just seemed to work. anyway, it’s certainly taken on its own life and given me some in return.

so there you have it. may you continue to be blessed as i have been blessed.

mattb

playmobil

 one of the better perks in being a parent is selecting your children's toys for them when they are still very young. in fact, it is something quite like an art picking things out for their play. it requires a combination of keen logical deduction and a reckless abandonment to intuition. and sometimes it is a payback to the wounded days of your own childhood, that without check can get away from you like a runaway train. yet in all of this, there has been a careful attention to quality. an attempt to help form long lasting relationships with toys that will not only spark the imaginative play, but give the user an excellent entry point into solid design.

 all of this is captured in the world of playmobil. born of the fatherland, where some would consider the father land of toy production, the branstatter  group began production in the 1970's. as a child i remember these sturdy plastic figures in themes based mostly in generic historical settings, such as pirates and knights. currently they still produce over 30 themes both historical and modern.

over the years we've collected quite a bit of the stuff. we have the obligatory knight and castle sets, pirate boats and island, (with napoleonic navy in hot pursuit) and of course the city sets with our private lear jet at the ready to take our little people all over the playmobil planet at a moment's notice. although they lack the more intricate assembly and building traits of the rival lego sets, there is still much interchangeability. and with that comes so much of the fun.

 as we routinely clean out the garage and donate or sell outgrown items, the question always seems to come around to what we'll do with these. they get played with less and less these days, and yet it's difficult for me to let them go. i'll pick up a piece or two and stare at the wonderful details that have been included and think what a shame it would be if they were one day gone. so i guess until the kid in me has had enough they will continue to occupy a shelf in my garage and a warm place in the heart.

brazil

sunday morning. easter morning. arose early, while it was still dark outside and readied myself for a sunrise service at church. stood in the brisk chill of easter morning under the tall 3 crosses as we sang hymns and waited for sunlight to warm us. drank coffee from a thermos that steamed in my hand. felt the warmth.
returned home and proceeded to mount up on my motorbike for an 2 wheeled easterly retreat. into the oakland hills cutting across skyline and joaquin miller surveying vistas below. through the zig-zags of grizzly peak and then up the steep switches toward tilden park. at the brazil building spotted a wedding reception spilling out on to the patio. pulled over and turned off the bike.
pulled out the ear plugs and watched as a light wind rocked the cherry blossoms, gently creating an effect like snowfall that dazzled the eyes. then watched as wedding guests dressed in elegance moved about and listened to their lilting voices, laughing. and for a few moments wished to be a part of that community. the beauty and sanctity of a wedding on easter sunday. new life.
the moment passed. realized place and time. returned ear plugs and sparked bike back to life. then tore back down the hills through berkeley and tunnel road, and finally screaming back on highway 13, toward home.

tears from heaven fall
on hardened hearts and begin
to melt them away

soul's walk takes us to
cross a bridge of serenity
and find our love

happy!

happy belated birthday mr. b. you've got the world in your hand!

postcard to a friend

engaging in the rest and contemplation of true beauty today.

a happy 8 bit valentines day from the toastrobot!

thrift town

i was thinking today about the trickle down process of all good objects we own. you buy something new in the store. you use it for a while, and if it doesn't break and you don't need it any more, you may pass it on to a friend. or if you're looking to make a little cash back on the deal, you may try to sell it. craigslist or ebay may get you top dollar, and if you're just not into all the work it takes to do this, it might sit in a garage or storage unit until one day, in a fit of purging it may end up on a table or blanket at a garage sale. here is where the bargain hunters prowl.
or, it may end up at the local thrift store as a donation, because it's just that much easier to get rid of things than to sell them. in fact sometimes the thrift store looks like a big estate sale. and it is here that i have enjoyed many hours just walking the aisles browsing the discarded treasures.
i once went looking for a bowling shirt, and found the entire team selection represented. it was here that i began slowly building my atari 2600 lot, one game at a time for about 95 cents apiece. smoking jackets, fezz hats, harmonicas, old frigidaires, polaroid cameras, vintage t-shirts, ties, 60's office chairs, framed art, school globes, and all manner of tchotchke have been spotted, handled and most times brought home from here on expeditions over the years.
and even when nothing is procured, there's still a good feeling that no time has been wasted after leaving empty handed. for the other thing it satisfies is that voyeuristic desire to open up other people's closets and go through them for a while. and so, even today after thinking about my walkman post and missing the intimacy of analog cassette technology, a quick trip to thrift town produced for me this lucky find. a vintage 1985 wm-f12! sure, it may lack the glamour of the sexier wm-10, but i adore this clunky little find. and for $3.95, it surely was a deal. (listening to a little tribe called quest even as i write this) amazing to me that it was sitting there waiting for me today. as if when it began its journey in the factory in japan some 28 years ago, making its way through the trickle down, it knew it would make its way into my hands today. so get out there while the deals can still be found. pearls be awaiting ;^)

deflated

i had a chance to get back to the coliseum last night for a warrior game with my lovely bride. it's so nice to be one stop away on bart. in fact, it took us longer to get through the security entrance then to get to the game (a first) but once inside it felt worth the trouble. although not a full house on a monday night, the place was still rocking, and as the w's built up a 20 point lead late in the 3rd quarter, there were good feelings all around.

but as the 4th got underway, so too did the wheels come off for the home team. they proceeded to give the game away as the memphis grizzlies rattled off 39 points in the 4th to top their output for the first half. our collective mood around the arena quickly fizzled into disbelief. golden state of course dropped this one by one, and as we walked back to catch our train i wondered why it is that we get drawn in as fans, and then let down by heartbreak. certainly the loss didn't ruin my wife's evening, if anything i added a black cloud to an otherwise lovely night out. so why is it that we let the game get beyond its proper parameters of entertainment and diversion? i mean i wasn't the one who coughed up that 20 point lead, and most likely those guys got over that loss far quicker than i did. still, i think i need to re-examine my investment emotionally the next time around, because the price of admission is just too high.

lifted high by fairy
dust and wonderful thoughts
about you today

(happy birthday ellie!)

matchbook stories 05

one of the things i really love about our new matchbook collection is this intersection of history, art and often times cartography. latest case in point is this recent discovery in our ash can of treasures. the steak block restaurant no longer exists as such. a little detective work led me to the conclusion that it now operates as a mexican eatery known as "caso robles" or oak house roughly translated.
and although i was supplied with an address on the cover of this matchbook, it did not seem to match up to anything on google maps. but as i took a closer look at the tiny illustrated map inside the cover i began to put the clues together. the alignment had changed over the years and old peralta blvd had become mowry avenue. this was confirmed by an additional sighting of a later matchbook version turned up here on ebay. and as i looked closer at the architectural details i became convinced this was the place.


and this is what i love. the mystery of this long forgotten dining locale revealed through the artist's hand on a crude map. interestingly to me as well, this little haven happens to be a block from my old neighborhood. it was there that my wife and i first settled in a little cottage and i would regularly walk right past it on late night walks with my neighbor and bosom friend. and although the laughter of the old place has faded and the conversation may have turned to espanol, i am again reminded that i am back where life was lived for me here so long ago, and is again.

mr. new year

first day of 2012 and what will we all find in it? the door to the answer remains locked for the present. the future is now. a very happy new year from the toastrobot!

baller

today my first game as coach for my boys' basketball team. returning to my old junior-high campus where i hadn't walked the halls and open courtyard since leaving all those years ago. the gym reminded me of those long gone days, and p.e. and silent reading time. our team played hard, and leading by 6 coming down to the last 2 minutes in the 4th quarter, my fastest point guard went for a steal and got wrapped up in his man and both went tumbling to the floor. the other team's player, much bigger, fell on my little guy and as he did knocked his head to the hardwood and chipped one of his front teeth.
everything went still. i scooped up the chipped portion and bent down to my guy. he was still smarting hard, and knew right away what had happened. i waited to see how he would handle it. after a minute or longer he pulled himself up and i helped him to the bench. as play continued he told me he was "ok" and that he wanted to go back in. i told him he was done for the day, that he had done enough and now still up by 6 with a minute to go, that we were probably going to win this one. he nodded. his mom came over and told me they were on their way to the dentist. as they walked out of the gym i was struck by the fire in this kid's heart. and i wondered how i would have reacted at his age.
we held on to the lead as the clock ticked out and we all smiled. but as we all made our way out i continued to ponder the fact that i had been given the greater lesson today. some of my players asked if our guard would be alright, and i just answered "i'm sure he will".

for love of the game

even as the hoops hopeful watch helplessly from the sidelines, and see an ever darkening cloud moving in to wipe out this nba season, the game goes on. it goes on in countless pick up games in church and school gyms. it goes on at outdoor recesses and in driveway games of horse, 21 and around the world. and it goes on every tuesday night for me as i step into the role of a coach for my oldest boys in our local church basketball league.

i love watching these young men and women learning how to play together. although they are right at the end of it, they are still playing with the joy and enthusiasm of children. for the love. and one day for most of them, that love will probably be gone. the intense ratcheting up of competition will force many of them out, and some of them up, although it will carry with it an increasing expectation of performance. and that pressure combined with the sole aim to win.

and these are not bad things in themselves. but when the love is shed in this trade, it is a great loss. and so as i shake my head and watch grown men dig in with the sole aim to win on their side of a labor dispute, i have to wonder what happened to the love?

the tale of alfie

a few weeks ago i was finishing up lunch when i heard some commotion coming from the shop. one of the guys had seen something moving around under one of the work benches. as it was october he thought perhaps someone was playing a little pre-halloween joke on him. you know, like one of those displays people put in front of their house that move as you approach. turns out it was not a joke, but in fact a real live white mouse in our very own shop! a brown mouse may not have caused as much interest i think, but his color combined with a seeming devil may care attitude as we watched him run back and forth through the shop raised our interest.
in fact he seemed to not be bothered by us humans as we edged ever closer to him. we began to speculate on his origins. there are apartments near the auto shop, and perhaps he had been someones pet and gotten away from his home. the other theory, which stretched the imagination, but gave him greater credential was that he was an escapee from the nearby reptile emporium that stocks "feeder mice" for large snakes and reptiles. although connie's was only about a tenth of a mile away, this certainly seemed to me at least a difficult distance for our intrepid little traveler.
wherever he came from, he provided increasing entertainment over the next several days. even as we speculated where he had come from, we all began to devise a way to capture our new house guest. i bought a live mouse trap that was basically a teeter-totter tunnel which would close a door when the little guy moved past the center fulcrum. he didn't seem interested. we left out peanut butter for him each night to make sure he stayed around. and i even cut the bottom of a paper cup and placed water inside for him. we attached a large funnel to a broom stick to try and trap him in the open but he escaped. i placed peanut butter in a cardboard box turned sideways outside my office window and waited until he was inside and then tipped the box right side up, but the little guy jumped out as i did so. we were all beginning to feel this mouse had outsmarted us all.


and still he kept up his game of hide and seek, showing up all over the shop, running along the ceiling and peeking out from under shelves and doorways. finally his daring got the best of him. we trapped him between cases of oil where we'd baited some of that irresistible peanut butter. the owner of the shop, mrs. b asked me if my kids would like to keep him as a pet. i thought of my wife's reaction and told her i'd think about it. meanwhile she picked up a really nice cage for him. by now he had become like a mascot around our shop. we put his new place together and got a kick out of watching him interact in his new home.


well, we did end up taking him home. although it was agreed that he would stay in the garage. my daughter named him "alfie" and they all took turns reading him a bedtime story that first night home. alfie turned out to be a tame little guy once he got used to his new apartment. although i always wondered how he would adjust to life back on the inside. the other morning barbara went outside to take the blanket off his cage and found him dead. i don't know if it was the cold, disease or if alfie just gave up as he had become a prisoner again.


my kids however, were also devastated. their new little pet, home less than a month was now gone. and so, we had ourselves a little funeral. i fashioned a suitable coffin for him out of the bottom of a pop secret box. (he loved popcorn and peanut butter) and we laid him to rest filling the box with flowers and notes. the kids all cried and i said a few words. we dug a hole at the base of one of our red apple trees and then laid a few more flowers on top. alfie, we hardly knew ye. and then just yesterday as my son aaron and i were playing catch in the backyard we watched as a white butterfly flew past us both, alighted right on the flowers above alfie's grave, paused there for a moment and then flew away again. so like alfie.

happy birthday babe. from a chicago alley to chicago pizza tonight in berkeley. you are my wife and the mother of my children, but you're also this little girl. i love you!

viva italia!

some photos from a recent italian car and motorcycle show in nearby alameda. my boys and i went out on a sunday afternoon and walked around and i snapped a few of my favorites. too many to include here fairly. in a time when good design reflected the sensibilities and flavor of each region, the italians always did it with such class. we wonder sometimes why folks don't feel more passionate about their machines. perhaps it's a reflection of the lack of passion now put into them. everything so much the same. no surprises. when i parked cars up on telegraph hill in san francisco, occasionally some oddball little car would show up, and the driver left you the keys and wondering whether you could figure out how to operate his ride. i miss that. the peculiarities and the sense of adventure in figuring out the small details, like how to find the ignition. anyway, enjoy this little taste of italy.

like something george jetson might fly home


the fabulous alfa romeo badge and grill

i met the owner of this one today. a real beaut from count augusta's wonderful obsession

reaching for outer space while holding tightly to the road. viva! (and godspeed marco)

we played summer's flute to the last note. and danced across the horizons of space and time together. we laughed and cried until it hurt and it felt good. and we ran out of breath. and though death was always there in the corner looking on, he too joined in the dance. the lives of friends have crossed and now departed and we are all of us richer because of this time. goodbye friends. we carry your music in our hearts.

(photo courtesy ingmar bergman)