Here's a view from our house on Basin in Fernwood.

Adam Silbar

A picture of the 1960 Sixth grade class at Topanga Elementry

Submitted by Shianne Reith (4th girl, front row from the left)

This is a picture from the Medley loop in the canyon.

Russ Opper

Santa Maria Canyon

Colorful brush

Fall leaves

Backlit canyon

Willows

Toyon

Summit

Leaves

My mom used to volunteer to ride the polo horses at Will Rogers when she was in high school. I really believe that taking away the horses will be a loss not only to owners of the horses but to all of the kids who benefit from visiting such a wonderful place. (News story, "State Parks to Evict Will Rogers Horses" V.25, N.22).

Melissa Vaughn
Topanga Messenger Webmaster

My mom Jennifer(rt) and her friend Dawn at Will Rogers in 1973.

Dear Messenger:
I am sending you a couple of photos I took of Lower Topanga creek while on a hike with the Sierra Club a few weeks ago. The creek is quite pristine in some places and beautiful to behold. If the State purchases Lower Topanga as parkland, hiking the lower creek area will be a treat.

Herbert Petermann
VOICE Chair

PHOTO BY CY BERLENZ

Oh say does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

News: Chicken Sign Stolen

What about the Oaks?

Dear Editor

At the end of Amy Way a new house is going to be built. On that property was a beautiful, ancient oak tree...one of the most beautiful in the area. Last night my husband came in, announcing the tree had been chopped down. I thought it was against the law to pull down oaks. If anyone says that tree was sick, I would heartily debate that fact...I took pictures of my kids posed in it last Christmas. I've taken pictures there for 15 years, and that tree was very healthy on New Year's Day. I believe very strongly in personal property rights, but I also believe in the law. What is the deal about the oak trees?

Thank you, PLaBrot

Childhood Memories The Internet today is a wonderful way to daydream and reflect back on ones youth. I typed into the search box TOPANGA. Several hits appear for me to view. Wow, does this take me back. I grew up in Topanga in the '60s. Went to the local elementary school till 6th grade then rode the bus down to the valley where I attended Parkman Jr. High School. Spent a few nights at the elementary school during some of the forest fires. Man, the Red Cross was great, always there when we needed them. I was the 1963 Strawberry Queen,those ladies at the community center sold a lot of tickets on my behalf. It was just under construction at the time. My mother was the Neighbor Hood Chairman for the local Girl Scouts and I went from Brownies all the way to Senior Scouts in the canyon. My father was County Commissioner for the Boy Scouts. I bought candy at the Fernwood Market and swam at the Wildwood pool. Caught the bus right at the Fire Department. Mother always said it was only a mile from the fire department at the bottom of the hill to our house at 1500 Fernwood. I never believed her; no way you can get that many curves in just a mile. She must have meant as the crow flies. It was a wonderful place to grow up. [To the right] is a picture I have managed to keep of the 1963 Royal Court. I enjoy your site, thanks for the memories Shirley A. Sanders AKA Shianne Reith Shianne Reith is the daughter of Frank and Earlene Sanders. They arrived in '55 when she was in 3rd grade. Shianne may be contacted at butterflykoi@yahoo.com

CLICK IMAGE TO ENLARGE

Topanga Twilight

How obvious,
At dusk, God is,
Before the first stars shine.
The sea is lead;
The hills, like bread
Soaking in purple wine.


Ephemeral,
The chaparral
Becomes one lurid cloud
As if the air
Crystallized there
The living breath of God.

Yellow and red
Are stacked inside
The endless horizon;
Behind the bands
Stretch rainbow lands,
Nostalgic of Heaven.

--Pablo Capra, 22
a Rodeo Grounds resident since birth

Whose Canyon Is it, Anyway?

By Bonnie McCourt

Friday morning started uncharacteristically early for me. Since there had been a breaking news story the day before--quite uncharacteristic for the Messenger too, but hey, we are a newspaper!--I wanted to get in early to do some corrections so the paper could be finished at least close to on time.

PHOTO BY TONY MORRIS Topanga artist Jody Roberts (in red shirt), seen here with the Rubber Tramps crew and the bus he painted.

Since he also had an early-morning commitment, David was going to drop me off at the office. Just beyond our driveway we spotted a dead raccoon lying by the side of the road.

I spent an hour or so at the paper, doing odds and ends, and headed back home, knowing I'd be returning later in the afternoon to finish up.

As I crossed the bridge on my walk home I noticed Jody Roberts strolling halfway down the boulevard. He stopped for a moment when he got to the raccoon, then continued on his way.

As I reached the dead animal I stopped too. It was a beautiful raccoon, with a vivid black mask and striped tail. Its feet, though large, looked quite delicate and dexterous. It was recently deceased--looked like it was sleeping--but a few ants were crawling near its eyes. There was no sign of trauma. I felt sad for a moment, but after all it was a only raccoon, and now it was a dead raccoon that was littering the road by my house, and hadn't I recently been cursing raccoons for the racket they made at night? And hadn't I been fighting with what I assumed to be a gopher over the two-dozen lobelia I'd planted in my garden which kept disappearing, one every day? And hadn't there been a giant rat in the bird food the other day? Rodents! Vermin! Whose Canyon is it, anyway?

I knew I should do something with the carcass, but hoped that if I left it there someone else would take care of it. After all, it wasn't actually on my property.

Three hours later, as I was headed back to the Messenger for a final pass, I remembered the dead raccoon and grudgingly thought I should take a couple of plastic bags and throw it in the trash. After all, it would soon start to stink and probably attract even worse vermin. Bags in hand, I went up to the road and peeked around the corner to see if it was still there. Yup.

I figured I'd check the mail before I dumped the body, and as I was sorting through the letters and magazines in the box I saw Jody again, coming my way, this time carrying a bouquet of wildflowers. He crossed the boulevard to my side of the street. I smiled and nodded hello, and went back to my mailbox contents. Jody continued past, and out of the corner of my eye I saw him stop by the raccoon, and place the flowers lovingly on its body. I felt so ashamed.

Whose Canyon is it anyway?

My eyes filling with tears, I went to the garage, got a box, and reverently went to put the raccoon in. I had to laugh at myself when the box was too small--my punctured solemnity was something out of a Chaplin film. I went back and got an even bigger box. The raccoon was a lot heavier than he looked and rigor mortis had already set in, even in his tail, so I had more Chaplinesque moments trying to get the raccoon situated in the box with at least some vestige of dignity. I finally managed to nestle him in, then placed the flowers over him and closed the lid. At least he would have a coffin.

When I moved here from New York nine years ago I was overwhelmed by the specialness of living in this natural world, but in such a short time even I have become jaded. Thank you Jody, for your sweet reminder of the value of even the smallest of our creatures. Whose Canyon is it, anyway?

Cartoons By Mathers

click images to enlarge