Category Archives: Essays

 

 

 

 

When Charlene Jones retired the backyard became a priority. “We’re going to be here forever and wanted a beautiful place to live,” she said. Jones went to work and terra formed the once average 58^th Street backyard into The One-eyed Dog Chicken Ranch, an urban micro farm.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The backyard is now a bounty of crops, including figs, a bee garden, a butterfly garden, and numerous vegetable and herb containers. She groomed a Redwood grove to create a natural chapel framed by young red-barked giants and left plenty of grassy room for the grandchildren to play.

 

Then the City decided to allow back yard chickens. With crop husbandry under control, Jones decided to fulfill a long time dream. “I always wanted chickens. My sister had them and I loved them.” She plunged into research—books, blogs, online information and friends helped her get ready for The Girls.

The Girls

Della poked around the hen house, “Brrrr ack ack ack.” Her low squawking rose in intensity. “She’s getting ready to lay,” said Jones. We stared at Della expectantly only to have her turn away from the hen house and continue scratching and poking around the gravel path. Della is a chubby Australorp (national chicken of Australia). Harry the Girl is a Barred Rock and Rosie a Rhode Island Red. All steady layers and hearty, friendly breeds.

The chickens came to the farm freshly hatched. “It was winter so we raised them in the house for the first eight weeks,” Jones said. “We used a heat lamp to keep them warm and watched them grow from chicks to pullets.”

Chickens need a coop and Jones went upscale. A custom made condo sits in one corner of the yard. A fence enclosing a chicken yard is under construction. The birdhouse was made by Greg Howes and Brian Fikes whose business Two Flew the Coop took off when the City authorized backyard chickens. Their colorful one of a kind chicken houses are available at Pietro Tallini’s Nursery on Folsom Boulevard.

The One-eyed Dog

Mini blinked at me with her eye. “She was abandoned, had recently whelped and was miserable,” Jones explained. Now she is the farm’s mascot and part of Team Chicken. Mini weighs in at about four pounds, just the right size for the The Girls.

One happy repercussion for The Girls of the One-eyed Dog Chicken Ranch is Jones’ reluctance to eat chicken meat. “I look at them and can’t do it,” she smiled. “They’re not just here for fresh eggs. They’re pets.”

 

 

 

 

 

Two years ago, I decided to grow my hair and donate it to Locks of Love––a non-profit organization that makes wigs for cancer patients, both women and children. I knew that cancer patients experience hair loss during treatment. My older sister, in fact, lost all her hair during chemotherapy. She looked like a completely different person. I missed seeing her beautiful black curly hair. For many years, unaware that I could help, I had been throwing away my hair. Why not donate it to make a wig, instead, and bring some joy to someone suffering? The decision brought me unexpected physical and emotional experiences.

I know that human beings are visual and everywhere we go we judge people by their appearance, whether we are consciously aware, or not. But could it be possible to judge a man by the length of his hair? As my hair was beginning to grow longer, my family’s statements were: “When are you getting a hair-cut?” or “Aren’t you going to comb your hair before we go out?” A very close friend even gifted me barrettes for holding my hair in place. Obviously, they did not approve of my new look. I knew, then, that I was in for a long ride.

At work, co-workers I highly respected often would make disrespectful comments like “Hey, Hippie, get a job!” “Your hair looks terrible; get a haircut!” Even those who knew my intentions would remind me that the long hair needed to go because I no longer look “manly” or “handsome.”

While visiting Arizona, a close friend of the family said to me, jokingly, that I looked ‘like hell’ and that I should be ‘taken south of the border’ to get an inexpensive haircut. At times, I perceived the cruel comments as racial statements or a good laugh at my expense. Nevertheless, I tried to remain grounded and self-contained. Deep inside, I knew my good intention would prevail.

At times, I wanted to give up, not because of the negative comments, but the annoyance of the hair on my face. For a while it wasn’t long enough to put in a ponytail. Simply keeping it in place when exercising was a problem. Forget trying to control it on windy days. Also, the care and grooming of long hair became a daily chore. As a result, I learned to admire and respect those who choose to have styled, lengthy locks of hair.

A handful of people were understanding and supported my efforts. Some commended me for the cause or shared a story of someone they knew had donated hair at one time. A few shared their personal stories. One day, on the elevator at work, a young woman told me that her mother was dying of cancer and that there was nothing she could do. I witnessed the tears running down her face. I could do something for someone like her; the hair falling on my shoulders provided the evidence.

I was determined to follow my heart. I heard the calling to donate my hair and help someone in need. I thought it would be easy to give a part of myself, but I never imagined that people could be so insensitive, unkind and judgmental.

I will always remember the day I cut and shipped the hair to Locks of Love. I will be grateful forever knowing that my locks of hair will help improve the self-esteem of a woman or child battling cancer. I guess the moral of this story is very similar to the old saying “Don’t judge a book by its cover.” Yet, in this case, it would be more appropriate to say “Don’t judge a man by the length of his hair.”

Contact Locks of Love or Pantene Beautiful Lengths to learn how you can contribute.