Santa Monica

All Poems, Museums, Santa Monica, Trips and Places

Skirball Cultural Center

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Dan and Sam told us for days.

About the visit to Noah’s Ark.

At the Skirball Cultural Center.

A place in L.A. with a mission.

That resonates with mine.

Rooted in Jewish heritage, values.

Repeated here for the hope it brings.

Welcoming the stranger.

Honoring memory.

Seeking learning.

Pursuing justice.

Building community.

Showing kindness.

The mission jolted me.

Into a kind of faith that had been fading.

Into gratitude that grandsons could be touched by this place.

In all its creative child-centered ways.

Like Noah’s Ark.

An 8,000-square foot interactive exhibition.

Replete with animals, touch exhibits, climbing gyms.

For small hands, active bodies.

To sweep them into the story of the flood.

In a multi-room, multi-sensory exhibit.

With story time, archeological dig afterwards.

While Bob and I wandered the encyclopedic museum.

On the history of the Jews through the ages.

Dan and Sam told us for days

about the visit to Noah’s Ark.

Though hard to image in my mind,

now a bona fide L.A. landmark.

 

Lynn Benjamin

November 12, 2022

 

 

All Poems, Gardens, Natural Beauty, Santa Monica, Trips and Places

Mildred E. Mathias Botanical Garden

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I love botanical gardens.

To be outdoors.

Exploring plants.

Trees.

Flowers.

From a particular region.

The Mildred E. Mathias Botanical Garden is no exception.

Its namesake, a much beloved professor of botany.

At the University of California, Los Angeles.

Director of the garden for nearly twenty years.

She left all of us a living legacy.

A small garden on 7.5 acres.

Home to subtropical trees.

Palms.

Bromeliads.

Ferns.

Redwoods.

Peaceful paths.

A stream.

Outdoor classroom.

Tables for students.

Not only sanctuary for people.

But fauna of every kind.

Turtles, hummingbirds, bees.

Quiet place to renew the mind.

 

Lynn Benjamin

November 12, 2022

 

All Poems, Children, Parents, Santa Monica, Trips and Places

Needs

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I used to teach parenting classes.

A hot topic was needs.

Because in a family with children, everyone has needs.

Often at the same time.

Babies.

Toddlers.

School aged kids.

Parents.

Whose needs get met?

How?

When?

I used to parent young children.

Getting needs met was a competition.

Who came in first?

Second?

Third?

Fourth?

Now I am a grandmother.

Sitting amongst little ones who all clamor.

At the same time.

The breast.

A diaper change.

The potty.

A book.

A project.

Clothes on to go outside.

Off to get a bath.

The issue of needs is still relevant.

Even though so much time has passed.

Babysitters, daycare, and school defray some.

But, how about early in the morning?

Late before bed?

Or weekends?

Needs crop up in waves.

They likely will never end.

Acknowledge them, simplify.

Try not to overextend.

 

Lynn Benjamin

November 11, 2022

 

 

All Poems, Museums, Santa Monica, Trips and Places

Getty Center

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The Getty Center is endowed.

By the fortune of oil magnate, J. Paul Getty.

Who donated his core art collection to the project.

Left instructions to expand it.

With European masters across centuries.

Rooms of arts, furniture, decorations.

Traveling exhibits.

Like Códice Maya de Mexico.

An unexpected find.

The oldest book of the Americas.

Before the arrival of Europeans.

Pictorial manuscript.

Predicting movements of the planet Venus.

Indigenous astronomy and art.

From that exhibition, easy to traverse vast halls.

In a structure high in the hills of Los Angeles.

Realized by New York architect, Richard Meier.

Made with travertine stones from Italy.

Full of leaf and shell fossils.

The center itself a marvel.

Galleries, patios, gardens, fountains.

Even a sound sculpture stream.

Reachable by a small electric train.

Or a fifteen-minute walk uphill.

The Getty´s a site you’ll not want to miss.

On your next trip to L.A.

It´s vast, it´s distinctive, on multiple levels.

Certainly worth a whole day.

 

Lynn Benjamin

November 10, 2022

All Poems, Food, Memories, Santa Monica, Stories, Trips and Places

Lulu at the Hammer

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Many years ago, Dan spent a summer in Berkeley.

I joined him for a week.

To set up the apartment.

Poke around San Francisco.

One lunch, we indulged ourselves.

At Chez Panisse.

The famed Alice Waters’ restaurant.

Serving organic food ahead of its time.

Farm to table.

Subtle, but striking flavors.

The best strawberry shortcake ever.

I never got back to Chez Panisse.

Though I wanted to.

But gustatory memories laid dormant on my tongue.

To be reawakened at Lulu.

An eatery in the Hammer Museum.

Run by Alice Waters and chef, David Tanis.

Named for Lulu Payraud, late legendary French winemaker and cook.

Seasonal menu.

Sustainably sourced ingredients.

From regenerative farms.

Rebuilding soil health.

Combating climate change.

A step beyond Chez Panisse.

Dan made a reservation.

For five of us for lunch.

Including baby Solomon.

Who fell asleep to the white noise around him.

In the outdoor setting.

In the courtyard of the museum.

Opposite a monumental artistic film.

That played over and over.

The food was simple.

Based on availability at local farms.

Salads crisp, fresh.

Tastes memorable.

I longed for strawberry shortcake from Chez Panisse.

Not on today´s menu.

Who knows? Maybe another day.

Just farm fresh fare on a patio.

Culture all around.

After twenty years of waiting,

Alice Waters found.

 

Lynn Benjamin

November 10, 2022

 

 

All Poems, Santa Monica, Stories, Trips and Places

Stop Wars, All Ways

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At the corner of 14th and California is a stop sign.

A normal signal for drivers to break.

Look right, look left.

Before moving on.

But someone taped the word war under Stop.

Here in Santa Monica.

A peaceful place.

Along the Pacific.

Where birds of paradise, camellias, roses hang in doorways.

Garden patches bloom.

Parks are plentiful.

Magnolias sway, drop seed bundles.

The kind my father used to collect and plant.

Seagulls, crows and tiny songbirds glide in synchrony.

People smile at one another.

Drivers wait for pedestrians.

Maybe a model city of calm cooperation.

Adding the word war to an all way stop makes sense.

A reminder that war can be waged in many ways.

Guns, bombs, arrows.

Hurtful words, ad hominem attacks.

Exploitation, bullying.

Each person has a choice.

Collaborate or not.

Preserve our civilization.

Battle or change the plot.

 

Lynn Benjamin

November 9, 2022

Sign at corner of 14th and California in Santa Monica

 

All Poems, Natural Beauty, Santa Monica, Trips and Places

It Doesn’t Rain

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People say it doesn’t rain in southern California.

But today I walk through the gentlest of showers.

Likely needed by Moreton Bay Figs, firs, palms.

Even succulents and cacti.

Magnolia leaves, ivy hedges look greener.

Slick with water.

Oranges, lemons expand overnight.

Everything shimmers.

Through slanting droplets.

Streets, cars, buildings.

A Santa Monica wet wash.

Feeding plants, squirrels, crows.

Filling reservoirs, cleaning streets.

Soaking feet, drenching clothes.

 

Lynn Benjamin

November 8, 2022

All Poems, Children, Family, Grandchildren, Santa Monica, Trips and Places

The Excitement of Poo

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Parents of toddlers know excitement.

When their toddler first poos in a bowl.

Everyone looks, claps.

Tells the child how proud they are.

The child picks up the exhilaration.

Says: I’m proud, too.

Siblings cheer.

Babysitters cheer.

Grandparents cheer.

Because it is an achievement.

Control over muscles.

Over the body.

Conquest.

Agency.

Readiness to move on.

Switch from diapers to underpants.

Go to preschool programs.

Today Arthur peed thrice in the toilet.

Made poo in a pot.

Smiling, triumphant.

Impressive snapshot.

A moment in time.

To treasure, to savor.

Goodbye to pampers.

Parental lifesaver.

 

Lynn Benjamin

November 7, 2022

 

 

 

Aging, All Poems, Parents, Santa Monica, Time, Trips and Places

Peace with Time

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It’s easy to forget so much in older age.

When you have made your peace with Time.

Acknowledging the journey.

The route she traverses.

So, it’s a jolt to be participant/observer again.

In a grown son’s household.

With young children.

Three under five.

To witness the tug for Time’s attention.

Babies always win.

For their needs are high.

While parents struggle.

To find a few precious moments.

Alone or with another adult.

A hectic spell upon the house.

During child rearing years.

A sense that it will never end

Until, poof, it disappears.

Children launch, go their ways.

Establish their careers.

Older age settles in.

What’s left, just souvenirs.

 

Lynn Benjamin

November 7, 2022

All Poems, Family, Grandchildren, Santa Monica, Trips and Places

Four-Year-Olds

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Four-year-olds view the world from their height.

Very different than adults above them.

Sometimes their viewpoint catches you unaware.

Like when we took Ez to see our cottage.

The one with the secret garden.

Hanging bougainvilleas, lemon trees, white roses.

Around a peaceful fountain.

Soothing to the ears.

Come see Yaya and Grandpop’s house, said his father.

We’ll stop by before school.

So, they did.

Ez stepped up into the kitchen.

Ran into the living room, bedroom, bathroom.

Back again into the kitchen.

But, where’s my room? he asked.

Referring to the house in Elkins Park.

Where’s the elevator?

The basement with toys?

This rental was not what he expected.

Not the place his grandparents resided.

Clearly not what he pictured, knew.

Image and reality collided.

 

Lynn Benjamin

November 7, 2022