Blog: Plant Your Dream!
by YourEnchantedGardener

Harpo's Place

Harpos' Place.
I see us changing
Ventura Place to Harpos Place.

Date:   6/12/2006 11:17:08 PM   ( 15 y ) ... viewed 1623 times

8:55 PM
June 12, 06

I came into this life with a Soul that was already in
mastership, and a body that has always had the
capacity to regenerate my own self and others
through healing touch. In between my Soul and
my Body is a Narrow place, a Crack as wide
as Grand Canyon.

On occasion, my Soul dips down into my body
and my body touches my Soul. It is enough
to cause rainstorms, or get the most PR out
of Earthquakes to lift the Common Good,
but that is another story.

I have had three fathers in my life.
My birth father is now in a convalencent home
repairing from stomach surgery. From him I learned
to run from the Jewish Religion, as fast as
my legs could carry me.

My second father was Bernard Jensen, who took
me in right out of college and taught me the meaning
of the word Christ as demonstrated in Seeds that grow
and Trees that bear Life.

My third father was Harpo. He was the hand
on my back, the warm hand, as I got up on a bike,
a year after being unable to walk at all.
I rode off down the boardwalk at Mission Beach
San Diego where we lived together with
the Harpo Family.

I can still feel his hand on me, wondering
if I were strong enough to do this...caring enough
to make sure I would not fall.

He was the father who gave me a place to live
when my hips were losing capacity to move
in spite of all I learned from Dr. Jensen.
He was the father who took be back a few years
later, and turned his Health House by the Sea over to
my wild, wild ideas, and a family to carry out these ideas.
My ideas combined with his own wild ideas,
were certainty the demise of what presumably was
a Health Food Store by day, and with refrigerators
covered at night, a place where The Lucky Dozen
came for stories and a good home cooked meal.
Those who came for dinner, hand picked by day, stayed for hours.
When late night came, it was not uncommon for
some to leave without paying a tab.
We had become family though hours though hours before we were
strangers. Such was the Way of Harpo, who taught
throughout his adult years, that Love was the Way.

There is a little street in Mission Beach called Ventura
Place. People would pass his little Health House by the Sea
hopeful, heading for adventure. They had arrived at the beach.
Hours later, we would see some of them leaving, head down,
as if they had come with
a dream in their hearts, but not had it fulfilled.

I would be on the bench across the street with Harpo.
He had a yell that he could belt out, just as his sisters--
the Andrews sisters, famous during the WW2 years.
Harpo was their elder brother, and to many, the black sheep
of the family. For many of us, he was our kind of Lamb.

Harpo would be sitting in the sunshine. Someone would pass
across the street. He would size them up.

"Hey! Hey You!" he would yell out.
They would stop in their tracks, even if 50 feet away.
They would turn to look in his direction, as
if to say, "Who me?"

"Yes, you!" he would say.
"Come on over!"

They would approach.
"Hungry?" he would say.
"How about a little lunch?"
Thirsty? How about a smoothy?"

30 minutes later they would be in the kitchen
preparing food for the family. It would not
be too uncommon for them to be spending the night
if they needed a place to sleep.

I would sit out front too, sizing them up.
If I felt a fit, I would invite them back for dinner.
We served no more than 12 a night, in our heyday
when we both came up with the idea
to serve family dinners.

I was the storyteller at those dinners.
Harpo was in the kitchen
preparing the food. If things went well,
in all likelihood we would be eating within an hour
IF someone did not break one of more than 50 rules
of etiquette that only Harpo knew. It was best
to be a mind reader at Harpos, and if you didn't
come in as one, you would likely go out as one
out of survival necessity.

The following is a Tribute to the Harpo,
who as word has it--or one of his fables-- was born on the high seas,
his mother captured/ abducted by the sea captain
or something like that. With Harpo, you did not
always know exactly what was the fact or fancy,
but enough was fact to spin a good story.

My sense is that Harpo
January 27, 1921- May 6, 2006
will return to Mission Beach as was long ago
prophesied. I see in my mind's eye a name change
and an annual memorial. I see Ventura Place
being called Harpos Place.

Here is a Tribute written around 1977 from bits and pieces
of the story composed in my journals. We always
thought this the story of Harpo and his Health House by
the Sea was a story destined to become literature.
We lived our life weaving a tale meant to be told.

Your EG

Here is where you go to read my Tribute to Harpo.

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