Leaning Up Against the Cheek of God

rainy day

It was a rainy February day in a still-new millennium, and the students of Dunn Middle School who had enrolled in our oral history and philanthropy electives were arriving at my house in vans to interview Jackson Browne. As far as the kids were concerned, he was not so much an icon as some old musician their parents seemed to like, and they were completely nonchalant about meeting him, but this turned out to be a good thing, for it rendered the ensuing conversation so much more relaxed and real. 

As for Jackson, he seemed completely at home––I guess because he is at home around here,  having owned a parcel at the Ranch since 1978. 

“Even when I was younger," he said, "I thought, ‘I’m gonna buy some land that no one will ever do anything with,’ and I found that people were basically doing that here––restricting its uses so it would stay in its natural state."

"As a matter of fact,” he continued, “my grandfather and my dad used to camp in Gaviota Canyon… and when my dad saw where the Ranch was, he said, ‘This is near where my father and I used to camp,’ and he told me that when he was about twelve years old, he called that area by the state park  ‘Browne’s Pass’. So I have some family history of loving this part of the country. I’d say the Ranch is my favorite place...it's where I want to be an old guy surrounded by my kids and their kids.”

Through the window behind him, the light was silvery, and the hills were green, and there was the sound of rain in gentle percussion.

“Maybe the most renewing thing is to be by myself up here,” Jackson mused, “and to spend a few days just thinking. A friend of mine had a phrase for it. She said, ‘That’s called leaning up against the cheek of God.’ I was trying to explain to her that when you come to my house –I keep saying how beautiful it is, but I’m not telling you about a fabulous house. I’m telling you the house is beautiful because of where it is. The natural beauty…”

Leaning against the cheek of God. I hadn’t thought of it that way, but it did seem fitting for the way the sky held us, the tenderness of being here, the sense of nearness to what matters.

Someone asked Jackson if he was religious. “I’m not a member of an organized religion or faith…but the truth is, I am religious. I think I practice a kind of religion, though I don’t have to say that I do at all. A friend of mine is director of the gospel choir at a high school in Los Angeles. He lets me come, and I love this music —these kids are so amazing—as a matter of fact, if you could ever get Fred Martin and his kids to come to your school, any way to make it happen, I would try to help. This music is a tremendous force in their lives; it comes from the Baptist tradition, a certain ethnic place in our culture. They’re definitely singing the praises of God...”

What if… I was snagged on the idea of Fred Martin and the gospel choir, that brief aside about figuring out a way to bring them to our community. I glanced over at my colleagues Linda Smith and Lynne Castellanos and saw the same spark in their eyes. I knew this would be our next project.

“The closest thing I belong to that’s like a church,” continued Jackson, “is a group of friends that over the course of twenty or thirty years have probably done hundreds and hundreds of benefit performances to raise funds for a variety of causes. There’s no name for us. We call ourselves ‘the usual suspects’ or funny names like ‘the bleeding hearts’ — we know about each other because we’re always asking each other to do things.”

I hoped that the kids were picking up on all this, a circle of friends who do things for others, the activist approach, the idea of being constructively and compassionately alive in the world.

And while Jackson’s life is admittedly extraordinary, he warned us not to underrate our own:

“When you think about it, probably more than half of what’s on television is selling you some notion that there are some beautiful people someplace, and you can find out about them, and you can be like them if you tune in, and buy stuff that they buy, or go where they go…That’s all crap. That’s complete and utter crap. That’s to say that their lives are more valuable than yours.”

Jackson urged the students to develop a sense of what is right and wrong and real, and never to underestimate what they might accomplish.

“As much as I love the world,” he said, “there are fights out there. There are some fights that are coming your way. Don’t back down from what you know is right…and in the end, you are the one to decide.”We talked for a good two hours. Now the light had dimmed, the rain continued, and it suddenly felt late. It was time to get the kids in the vans and back to campus.

They descended the steps laughing and chatting and colorful as confetti, all that wonderful middle school energy…and I wonder, more than ten years later, how much they remember of their afternoon with Jackson Browne, whether they hear his songs differently, or if they have incorporated any of his advice into their thinking long term. You never know what sticks.

_____

But there was still the matter of the gospel choir. And it wasn’t easy, but a concert was arranged, and one morning the following May, a bus set out from South Central Los Angeles to the Santa Ynez Valley with Fred Martin, the Washington Preparatory High School gospel singers, and an assortment of instruments and equipment on board. St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in Los Olivos, with Father Stacey at the helm, had agreed to be the venue for an evening performance, but first there came an impromptu noon concert on the Dunn School campus.

Jackson and Fred

jackson

Fred, who is himself a talented young musician and teacher, charmed everyone, and the voices of the singers, among whom I particularly remember Chavonne Morris and Alethea Mills, were somehow both angelic and electrifying. They performed a bit of R & B and Motown, but mostly it was good old-fashioned gospel, and some kind of spirit infused us all. Everyone––students, teachers, staff, even the younger children who had come by from the nearby Family School––were clapping and dancing and singing along, making a joyful noise.

The magic resumed at the church later, and the house of God was a full one that night, and I can’t be sure, but it seemed to me the building may have lifted off the ground. Friendships began, and all of us were giddy, and I think we felt a fleeting sense that anything was possible. Was there a moon? I only know that there was light, and we were enveloped in love––pure, uncomplicated, and inclusive. Maybe I'm mythologizing this. Legend-ing it, as I tend to do.  But if you were there, you know.

Jackson Browne? He was at the back of the church, smiling.  And afterwards he went back to the Ranch...and I suppose he leaned up against the cheek of God.

____

Note from Cynthia: For more of our 2001 interview with Jackson Browne, go to "Even More True Now", on the Zacate Canyon section of this website.Jackson fans might also be interested in this post, "The Angels Are Older Now" about a concert he did in 2011 for our local school.