I had read
somewhere once that the bunches of flowers are often placed in the
hand of the Jack London statue from his devotees. I was really
happy to see daisies from the Farmers Market on the statue the
Sunday I was there. The plaque at the base is a reference to what
is a favourite "hang in there" inspiration to me,
beginning "I would rather be ashes than dust. " I would
rather go out in a brilliant flame than smoulder (or something
like this) away into nothingness. I copied the whole quote,
brought it back with me to put really nicely and decorated in this
scrapbook, but Iíve misplaced my notes somewhere. As soon as I
find these notes, Iíll add another picture to this collection.
This is really
only half of Jack Londonís cabin Ė a wealthy afficiando of
Londonís books went to the Klondyle when there was a rumour that
Londonís cabin had been found. This man found Londonís
signature carved in the wall, and split the logs Ė half went to
Canada and the other half to Oakland Ė and replicated cabins
were erected to honor Londonís writing.
I had a period in my life when I
voraciously read everything I could of Jack Londonís Ė it must
have been during my "I desperately want a dog" phase.
"White Fang" and "Call of the Wild" were obvious
Iíd like to see inside this, but Iíd prefer to do it when they
take the Yacht out on a bay cruise. If I go back in April and if cruises
are running, Iíll take that kind of a tour.
And, needless to say, Iíve also lost some of my notes of writings
on the Peace Wall. Ah, well, I think Iím going back to Oakland April 1st
Ė will just have to go to Jack London Square again I think.
Itís a shame that nobody at work, or at home likes fruitcake. I
absolutely had to buy this because it was $16 on sale for $5. Didnít
think it would be really that noticeable, but believe me when you open
up this wee box, the 11% whiskey content in this cake Ė to keep it
moist of course, fairly comes out to greet you. And since nobody else is
willing to eat it, I canít let it go to waste, can I?
In the middle of writing this little chapter of photos, souvenirs and
memories, I was paged out to visit with a hospice family, since this is
an on-call working weekend for me. (I feel fortunate I was able to get
so much done before this, my first call out, at 4 p.m.) Imagine, imagine
imagine Ė while Iím digging through my hospice bag for my notes,
what should turn up but my copies of the little inspirations from Jack
London Square. The two small thoughts are from the peace wall, and the
"ashes rather than dust" is, of course, Jack London himself.
The person who says "It cannot be done" should not get in
the way of the person doing it.
The setting sun
Tugs the little deaths
To the other side of darkness
Where the last beat
Meets the first
In holy union
And the stars that give
And steer the dreamer
Do not protest the sun,
But run like bears
To Den at morning. (Elise Chin)
I would rather be ashes than dust.
I should rather that my spark burn out in a brilliant
than it should be stifled by dry rot.
I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in
than a sleepy and permanent planet.
The proper function of man is to live, not to exist.
I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them.
I shall use my time.
(Jack London, 1876-1916)