to move up and down
California wildfire on offensive — A US Forestry fire fighter fights a wall of fire during an out of control wildfire on May 2, 2013 in Camarillo, California. Hundreds of firefighters are battling wind and dry conditions as over 6000 acres have already been burned northwest of Los Angeles. (Kevork Djansezian/Getty Images)
California man’s Cadillac careens onto neighbour’s roof after mechanical failure
An unusual accident saw a Southern California man’s car ending up on his neighbour’s roof. Glendale police Sgt. Sean Riley said that the driver lost control on a driveway in an area where homes are arrayed on a steep hillside. The vehicle ended up on the roof of the next house down the hill. (Glendale Police Department)
Why YES, this is a dog surfing. A dog wipes out during a surf contest in Huntington Beach, California. (Photo: Lucy Nicholson/Reuters)
‘Human failure’ to blame for massive blackout in California, Arizona, Mexico
A massive blackout caused by “human failure” left nearly 5 million people without power in parts of California, Arizona and Mexico Thursday, and officials said many residents may be out of service for a day or more.
The outage, apparently triggered by an employee who carried out a procedure at a substation in Arizona, snarled traffic on Southern California freeways, knocked out water supplies in parts of San Diego County and Tijuana and sent some elderly residents to emergency rooms. (Photo: Sandy Huffaker/Getty Images)
Capybara, a giant South American rodent, spotted in California
A giant South American rodent weighing at least 45 kilograms was spotted at a waste-water treatment facility in California recently before disappearing in the brush, according to a wildlife official.
The animal, which was identified as a capybara, is the world’s largest rodent and feeds on vegetation.
“If you think a giant guinea pig is cute, then you probably would like it,” said Todd Tognazzini, of the California Department of Fish and Game. (Photo: Dave Cooper/Edmonton Journal)
My Father, His Firebombs and Me: A lost generation?
The final instalment in the five-part series My Father, His Firebombs and My Messed-up Sixties Childhood, in which Post reporter Peter Kuitenbrouwer describes growing up with a hippie father who was on the run.
Leaving San Francisco airport on Highway 1 North, I pass a billboard depicting The Beatles in 1969, the period of their longest hair and fullest beards. “Now on iTunes,” the caption notes. The Fab Four in California, framed by palm trees, feels profound. Let It Be. The 1960s live.
This is the road taken by so many hippies, who fled the Haight Ashbury scene after 1967’s Summer of Love, seeking a tranquil place to shed their clothing and drop out. Thousands settled in Mendocino County. One was my father.
From the 1850s, loggers had dominated Mendocino County, known grandly as “The Redwood Empire.” They called the new arrivals “dirty hippies” and locked them up — including my father.
Today the redwoods are cut, the sawmills shut. The irony is that these days, the hippies are the establishment. So was my father right after all? Am I the son of a hero and pioneer?
Part I: Growing up with a father on the run
Part II: Eviction and retribution
Part III: A back-seat view of my father’s arrest
Part IV: A life laid out in court documents
My Father, His Firebombs and Me, Part IV: A life laid out in court documents
The fourth instalment in the five-part series My Father, His Firebombs and Me, in which Post reporter Peter Kuitenbrouwer, in Ukiah, California, describes growing up with a hippie father who was on the run.
Encapsulated in these pages is the whole arc of my father’s life to age 35, which bears similarities to those of others of his generation: from his childhood in occupied Holland, through immigration to Canada, aged 19, his early success founding a steel company in Vancouver, then overwork, leading to the collapse of his marriage to my mom and his embrace of the hippie culture, emboldened by the people he meets in Mendocino.
“My life took a new turn,” my father, who wore handcuffs, told his lawyer, Merle Orchard, during his sentencing hearing on Dec. 23, 1969. “I felt I should probably spend more of my life in, in helping people, looking for a new direction in which people should live.” These sentiments may sound lofty to some but to me they drive home how he entirely stopped thinking of his own three children; he even misstates the year of my birth. (As I type these words, back in Toronto, I am preparing to stop in at my son’s Grade 3 class at lunchtime, to present a soufflé that he and I baked together, to celebrate his 9th birthday; I can’t help but reflect on my own childhood, and a father who was not there for me.)
What emerges from my father’s court documents, more than any grand tale of 1960s heroism, is a portrait of a man who, scarred by the squalour of his youth during World War II, then fuelled by plentiful drugs and easy sex, makes a series of bad judgment calls, flees at every sign of trouble, and ends up a remorseful shadow of the hero he had styled himself.
Part I: Growing up with a father on the run
Part II: Eviction and retribution
Part III: A back-seat view of my father’s arrest
A back-seat view of my father’s arrest
In this five-part series, veteran National Post reporter Peter Kuitenbrouwer digs into his remarkable childhood and the life of his father, whose Bob Dylan hairstyle and On the Road lifestyle embodied the drug-fuelled freedom dance of the ‘60s. He travelled along the California coast, where his father built a hippie commune in the redwoods and became a wanted man after plotting to blow up a lumber company’s model home. This is the story of a generation which is just now coming to terms with the dark side of their peace-and-love upbringing. In part 3, Peter writes from San Francisco:
On the afternoon of August 9, 1969, three towheaded children, aged 10, nine and seven, tumbled out of the Arrivals area at San Francisco Airport and into the arms of a tall, thin man. The man’s eyes glowed electric blue; topping his head was a wiry mass of brown curls worthy of Bob Dylan on the cover of Blonde on Blonde. My two elder sisters and I were arriving in California for a summer vacation with the man we called Papa.
My father wore a serape, a kind of poncho from Mexico, multicoloured pants and leather Mexican sandals called huaraches. Showing his huge teeth in a grin behind the impressive forest of his beard, he greeted us with warm hugs; from his clothes and hair rose a pungent smell of cannabis. Paul Kuitenbrouwer loves theatrics, and for him, August 9 proved a show-stopper. We walked to his latest boat of an automobile, a white 1961 Ford Galaxie, and saw it already contained three children. Two were our old playmates from La Jolla, California: Lareine and Rachel.
The third, a boy named Sean, is someone that my father’s later correspondence mentions, but whose identity, otherwise, is lost in time. My eldest sister believes there may have been a dog, too. After we piled in (who had heard of a seat belt?) my father steered us across the Golden Gate Bridge and swung the car onto California Highway 101, heading north. This crazy car trip seemed normal; the only constant of our childhood was chaos.
Part I: Growing up with a father on the run
Part II: Eviction and retribution
My Father, His Firebombs and Me
In this five-part series, veteran National Post reporter Peter Kuitenbrouwer digs into his remarkable childhood and the life of his father, whose Bob Dylan hairstyle and On the Road lifestyle embodied the drug-fuelled freedom dance of the ‘60s. He travelled along the California coast, where his father built a hippie commune in the redwoods and became a wanted man after plotting to blow up a lumber company’s model home. This is the story of a generation which is just now coming to terms with the dark side of their peace-and-love upbringing.
Part I: Growing up with a father on the run
Part II: Eviction and retribution
Photos: From his Roots in a Big Dutch Catholic Family, Paul Kuitenbrouwer Started His Own Family In the New World
Photos: In the Hills of Eastern Ontario Lives Paul Kuitenbrouwer in Rustic Splendour, Removed from the Modern World
Smile, you’re on my stolen laptop’s candid camera
The pictures are innocuous: They show a man sitting in bed, sleeping on the couch and driving a car. But the photos were taken remotely by a spyware program installed on a laptop that was stolen from a Californian home.
Joshua Kaufman was able to use the pictures and the spyware to track down the man in possession of his stolen computer. Now he’s got his laptop back and police have arrested a 27-yearold taxi driver.
After police classified the theft as a low priority, Mr. Kaufman posted the pictures on a Tumblr This Guy Has My MacBook.
Invasion: California
Hello, I’m Andrew Barr, the National Post’s resident monsterologist. Since the dawn of time, man has wondered, “Are we alone in the universe?” If Hollywood is to be believed (and why shouldn’t it?) the answer is “no.” And it seems aliens don’t like us very much, either, and for some reason California tends to be a major part of their plans. Sure, sometimes the visitors are friendly — sometimes their ship breaks down and California just seems like a great place to stop for parts. But as Battle: Los Angeles and last year’s Skyline show, some space monsters just think California makes a great beachhead for their plans of global mayhem. But is California really the easy target these aliens think it is? Let’s examine some of the more interesting tactics space creatures have employed in their invasions and what role the Golden State played. WARNING: Spoilers.
