The directions are precise, long and complicated. I am constantly reassured by landmarks listed in detail, “a nursery on your left” and “a fire station on your right.” I wonder if a “Tom Tom” would be as thorough. Residents have included people such as Grace Slick, Anne Lamott, Tony Serra and Frances McDormand. I turn left at the “T intersection,” and park on the “pavement under a basketball hoop,” as I am instructed to do.
Two dogs greet me with uncertainty, a wiry Jack Russell and a Weimaraner with only three legs. The hippy attorney is on the phone and none of the hippy staff is expecting my visit. With the dogs on my heels I am back on the porch waiting.
He greets me wearing a t-shirt defining the word “Greek,” a pair of cargo shorts and sandals. He has a goatee and wanders off to change his clothes “into something dressy.” I’m kicking myself for not figuring out how to keep him in his current outfit, but I chuckle when he comes back wearing a Hawaiian shirt, slacks and still sporting the same sandals.
The case he is working on is about a daughter that smothered her ill mother and claims it was a mercy killing. She copped to a manslaughter charge and got pegged to the middle tier sentence—six years. He got the term reduced to three and wants to get her off altogether. I really like his home and Bolinas makes me want to stay for a spell. I want to go downtown and maybe get some lunch, but I spent too much time photographing him and I need to get back to the City. I am hoping I can remember how.
