Wiz and Dwight Yoakam

In 1999 Shirley and I were staying in the same hotel in Las Vegas as Dwight Yoakam. She loved the way he wore his hat "with attitude." That was probably her first inspiration to wear cowboy hats herself. She also wanted a cowboy style rain slicker like Dwight's too, but never found one in petite women's size. We both thought Dwight's charisma surprising - he clearly commanded more attention than a lot a stars with much bigger names did in the casino.

She quickly bought an album and loved "Streets of Bakersfield." Any time it came on a car radio she would turn it up and sing along with the chorus. "You don't know me but you don't like me." (Said it reminded her of meeting planners.) One night while staying in Los Angeles, I drove her all the way to Bakersfield for dinner - at Crystal Palace - Buck Owens museum, night club and restaurant that Dwight might have an interest in. She loved that place, particularly the chicken fried steaks. We talked for years afterwards about spending a couple days in Bakersfield, going to hear music at CP every nite and writing a story about the town's odd charms. We never made it, I think she was waiting till Dwight was playing there.



Streets of Bakersfield by Dwight Yoakam

I came here looking for something
I couldn't find anywhere else
Hey, I'm not trying to be nobody
I just want a chance to be myself

I've spent a thousand miles of thumbin'
Yes I've worn blisters on my heels
Trying to find me something better
Here on the streets of Bakersfield

Hey you don't know me but you don't like me
You say you care less how I feel
But how many of you that sit and judge me
Have ever walked the streets of Bakersfield?

I spent sometime in San Francisco
I spent a night there in the can
They threw this drunk man in my jail cell
I took fifteen dollars from that man

Left him my watch and my old house key
Don't want folks thinkin' that I'd steal
Then I thanked him as I was leaving
And I headed out for Bakersfield

Hey you don't know me but you don't like me
You say you care less how I feel
But how many of you that sit and judge me
Have ever walked the streets of Bakersfield?

Hey you don't know me but you don't like me
You say you care less how I feel
But how many of you that sit and judge me
Have ever walked the streets of Bakersfield?
How many of you that sit and judge me
Have ever walked the streets of Bakersfield?

Wiz Does Nature

When we first began traveling together I was amazed to hear that Shirley had never seen Bryce or the Grand Canyon. Foolishly, I decided to remedy that. She didn’t object because the itinerary included a casino hotel. We flew into Vegas, drove to Mesquite, checked in and headed to Bryce.

Believe it or not, Shirley did not yet own a cell phone. So, as soon as we got to the National Park canyon rim she spent half an hour in a pay phone yelling at tour guides. When she hung up I asked, “Ready?”

“For what?”

“ To hike down to the canyon floor.”

“What for, I saw it from the phone booth. Can’t we just go back to the casino?”

On the way back I asked her why she let me drive her all the way to the park.

“You seemed so excited about taking me there.”

I never made the “nature thing” mistake again.

Wiz Is Busted

One day I watched Maggie playing with her toy car and school house while Tina and Shirley worked in the office. Maggie moved her car around and around the school house, frustrated.

"The boys and girls are all waiting but the teacher is still looking for a parking place. All the parking places are empty but they're all Handicapped Parking. How stupid is that?" she asked, reasonably enough.

I went to the office to tell Tina and Shirley. As soon as I repeated the "How stupid is that" line, Tina covered her mouth to not laugh too loud and pointed at her mom, "Busted."

Shirley on Fantasy Parenthood

Shirley & Wro in Bologna

One time Shirley was visiting Des Moines we slept late on the morning of her departure. Rushed to pack, it wasn’t until she was standing in the airport check-in line that she realized.

“Oh my God. I forgot Wroburlto. What kind of mother am I? Oh well, you’re coming out in less than a month, can he just stay with you and come home then?” she asked, loud enough to be heard by several others. She called from both the boarding area and from her connecting airport in Denver.

“Honey, this is rather crazy. I keep noticing people pointing at me and whispering. Now every one on the flight thinks that I actually forgot a child and just dumped him on you for a month,” she explained, entertained with herself.

“And how are you reacting?”

“Oh I just give them my most intense Chinese stare, as if to say “What are you looking at?" Gee I almost hope someone wants to talk to me, this is getting fun.”

For years afterwards, Wro referred to this as "The Great Abandonment" and blamed it for his addictions to shopping and flirting.

Suitcases

Shirley loved buying "adorable things" particularly while traveling. Our trips for several years always included trips to department stores to buy an extra suitcase to cart home all her loot. I recall counting 30 suitcases once in her garage before she began donating some to chariites. Once I suggested that she just bring an empty suitcase on her out bound flight. This was years before the airlines began charging for baggage so I thought it sensible.

"I can't do that. It would undermine my shopping discipline," she explained.

Shirley's unpublished post 911 Letter to the Editor

Dear Editor:

Standing at my Mandarin Oriental window, looking at the greatness of San Francisco’s skyline, I consider the story in today’s Chronicle about Joan Didion. It dealt with the very same viewpoint I am gazing at, but only in a literal sense. The Chronicle wrote that the great writer was thankful that she did NOT have to stay at the Mandarin Oriental and look at the Transamerica Building.

My English teachers taught me that Didion was the consummate practitioner of synecdoche, the figure of speech where something stands for something larger -- like a great building standing for the moral decay of post modern America. They taught me that no one so completely captured the disillusionment and social disintegration of California, her synecdoche for America. That Didion’s California Dream was the American Dream turned into a nightmare.

Enough pessimism can mobilize collective guilt. I suppose that could enable people to see the Mandarin Oriental, the Transamerica Building and the World Trade Center towers as symbols of great decadence, a synecdoche for great evil. I prefer to see them as magnificent sources of pride.

The Mandarin Oriental is hosting some celebrities to whom Didion style post modern disillusion does not easily stick. Stevie Nicks, Sheryl Crow, Minnie Driver and Seal are in town for concerts and, I suppose, looking at the same skyline without fear or dread or shame. Their voices, I pray, see a progressive vision of the genius of San Francisco -- a financial district built upon a landfill which had been mere bay water a century ago.

We built this city!
We built this city!
We built this city!
On rocks we rolled.

Shirley Does Nature

When we first began traveling together I was amazed to hear that Shirley had never seen Bryce or the Grand Canyon. Foolishly, I decided to remedy that. She didn’t object because the itinerary included a casino hotel. We flew into Vegas, drove to Mesquite, checked in and headed to Bryce.

Believe it or not, Shirley did not yet own a cell phone. So, as soon as we got to the National Park canyon rim she spent half an hour in a pay phone yelling at tour guides. When she hung up I asked, “Ready?”

“For what?”

“ To hike down to the canyon floor.”

“What for, I saw it from the phone booth. Can’t we just go back to the casino?”

On the way back I asked her why she let me drive her all the way to the park.

“You seemed so excited about taking me there. I didn't want to disappoint you.”

I never made the “nature thing” mistake again.