December 8, 1941 came like a storm as the Japanese aircraft began bombing and strafing Manila and other American outposts in the Phillippines Island, at that time an American colony. For Karen Lewis, the daughter of an American accountant for a gold mining company, it started out as an adventure - leaving the mining camp at Baguio to head for safety in Manila. It quickly became much more harrowing - three years of confinement in Santo Tomas, a Catholic University just across the Pasig River from the city proper, along with 3,000 other mostly American and English detainees.

Karen was 9 years old at the time, and witnessed the resilience and determination of the adults to organize a highly functioning and organized community, with school, dining halls, sanitation and entertainment under the watchful eye of their Japanese civilian commandant. But when he left after a year and was replaced with a military commander, things took a darker turn, and discipline often proved brutal and rations dwindled down to starvation portions. News was hard to come by, but filtered through hidden transistor radios as the Allied offensive pushed the Japanese back through the South Pacific to the gates of Santo Tomas, shortly after MacArthur's prophesied return.

We talk about her daily life in the camp, how it was organized and how it functioned, as well as the odd coincidences and humanity from detainees and guards alike. Lewis gathered up her story along with three other women for "Interrupted Lives: Four Women's Stories of Internment During WWII." The well-known painter and stalwart of the Ojai Studio Artists has lived in Ojai for 30+ years and stays active with gatherings of Santo Tomas survivors.

We did not talk about Joe DiMaggio, Neal Stephenson's Cryptonomicon or William Howard Taft.

Beatrice Wood's finest work of art could well have been her life. The famous ceramicist was in the middle of key 20th century moments - Igor Stravinsky's tumultuous Rites of Spring debut in Paris in 1912, Marcel Duchamp's controversial "Nude Descending a Staircase" and his "Fountain" in 1917. "The Mama of Dada" more than any single person, shaped Ojai's identity as an arts haven and inspirational, creative place.

Kevin Wallace, director of the Beatrice Wood Center for the Arts, talks about her life, loves, influences, those she influenced, and much much more. We also talk about Kevin's journey to Ojai and his new venture as a folk musician at age 60, inspired by Beatrice Wood, who flourished well in into her 80s and 90s and even 100s.

The center is open for visitors after the pandemic, and eager to share the story and fabulous art of this remarkable woman. Check out their website at https://www.beatricewood.com/ 

Lauren Nichols has shifted from her career in urban planning to putting together local personal care products such as soaps, bath bombs, beauty products and others, all curated for value to the community and environment - safe, sustainable and of superior quality. Local Bath Boxes are available by subscription and include fan favorites such as Bogue Milksoaps, Friend's Ranch citrus, Seeb & Solace and Frog Creek Farms, with more added frequently.

The journey to her launch brought us into deeper discussion about how societies are organized, our mutual fanship of Jane Jacobs, Christopher Alexander and other icons, and her prior career at a non-profit group building affordable housing projects. Local Bath Box's launch earlier this year took place the same day her son was born, giving Lauren the opportunity to inform both her business and family through the lessons learned in each, and a reminder of when to celebrate anniversaries. She's been cultivating relationships with Ojai makers and artisans for years, and hopes this venture benefits everyone, including her growing family.

Check out her website, LocalBathBox.com, where you can sign up for the curated subscription boxes, check out news and information about the field, support local nonprofits and keep your self care sustainable and local.

Sergio Aragonés might well be the world's most distinguished, prolific and beloved cartoonist. Even as Mad Magazine, where his distinctive and hilarious drawings graced their pages for 60 incredible years, ceased publication during the pandemic, Sergio has been busier than ever. He's cranking out multiple editions of his picaresque masterpiece, "Groo the Wanderer," creating multiple covers for other magazines, working on bespoke projects and entertaining his adoring fans with his instantly recognizable, hilarious and insightful cartoons.

Sergio talks about his family's flight from Franco-era fascism in Spain to France, then to Mexico City, where his father found work as a producer for Mexico's vibrant film industry. Sergio entertained himself on film sets with his sketchpad and pens, and by an early age was entertaining his friends with his talents. He also played extras in many films before heading off to architecture school before trying his hand at a professional career in cartooning. After arriving in New York City by bus, his first employment was declaiming Federico Garcia Lorca poems. It wasn't long before his obvious genius was recognized by Mad Magazine and he was off and running.

He talked about Mad's famous annual trips, one in which publisher Bill Gaines took his entire crew to Surinam to convince their one reader in that country to renew his subscription (though Sergio missed that trip because he was getting married), the easy and enduring camaraderie of that talented crew, the technological changes that have disrupted his business, the opportunities it presents, and how he kept himself sane during the pandemic. He also talked about how history is taught in Mexico versus how it's taught in the U.S., and many other things. 

We did not talk about pirates, Krishnamurti or the perils of horse ownership.

America was riven in the late 1940s and early 1950s when the House Un-American Affairs Committee turned its gimlet eye on Hollywood and 10 writers and producers with suspiciously leftist sympathies. The Hollywood Ten were among the most successful and well-known writers of their time, including Oscar-winners Michael Wilson and Dalton Trumbo. After being forced out of their careers and country, they encamped for the more tolerant climates of Mexico and Europe, writing under assumed names for much lower wages and no credit.

In the mid-1950s, they began to trickle back into America, where Trumbo and Wilson set up camp in Ojai, led by Wilson's wife, Zelma, the noted architect. Zelma and Michael formed a salon where other blacklisted writers and actors gathered to commiserate, party and make history. We take up this story with Mark Lewis, former chair of the Ojai Valley Museum and a long-form narrative feature journalist who is also an associate editor of the Ojai Quarterly. After Kirk Douglas and others helped bust the blacklist, these talented writers got back to work on such classics as "Planet of the Apes" and "Johnny Got His Gun."

Among other topics we talked about Stalin, Ojai architecture, Ronald Reagan and Nordhoff homecoming queens. We did not talk about Zen archery, Great Lakes boat craft or the Peloponnesian War.

Julie Tumamait-Stenslie grew up in Ojai with an idyllic childhood as the youngest of seven children, playing in the Ventura river bottom. Her father, Vincent, was a revered Chumash elder and keeper of the traditional folkways. Julie apprenticed herself to him, learning the old songs, stories and folkways of this ancient and fascinating people.

She now has taken his place, performing ceremonies along from Malibu to San Luis Obispo, teaching children the songs and stories by which Chumash peoples passed on information through the generations and making sure that her people are represented. Besides archeological surveys on construction projects to make sure that cultural treasures are not destroyed, she founded the Barbareño/Ventureño band of Mission Indians, on which she serves as tribal chair. 

She paints a vivid picture of pre-contact life in the Ojai Valley, where the bands of Chumash traveled from village site to village site to take advantage of the changing seasons for food crops like acorns, pinon nuts and the bounty of the nearby sea. Before the Spanish arrived, the state's native population was estimated at 310,000, which dwindled to a few tens of thousands by the 1870s after the massive disruption of the gold rush.

Julie's keen insight and humor give her a peerless view of the area's history and the cultural genocide which happened twice - when the Spanish friars arrived in the 1770s and again when the American flag first flew over California in 1846. We talk a lot about Benjamin Hadley's book, "American Genocide" about the nearly successful effort to wipe out California thriving native people between 1846 and 1873 (the Modoc War). We also talk about Ojai and how it's changed over the years, and how she and others are striving to find a balance through a more integrated approach to the environment and respect of Ojai's first residents. Julie also tells us about her husband Bruce, who runs the county's Economic Development Collaborative and it's shepherding of the county's pandemic-stricken businesses.

We did not talk about Cynthia Ann and Quanah Parker, the first and second Opium Wars or the collapse of British railways stocks in the late 1840s.

When author and executive coach Jim Selman published his 11th book, "Living in the Real-Time World," in November 2019, he didn't know he would get a "proof of concept" unlike any in more than a century. The pandemic brought home the basic truth that it's a fool's game to predict the future, instead we need to focus on the key capabilities (Jim lists six) that allows the flexibility and resilience to deal with the unimaginable pace of change. The book is aptly subtitled "Six Capabilities to Prepare Us For An Unimaginable Future."

The book's title was taken from Jim's prior career in computer engineering, when  microprocessors became so fast that they were said to "operate in a real-time world."

Selman, CEO of ParaComm International, has coached some of the world's most dynamic business leaders, focusing especially on transformational leadership and instituting change in organizations. He's worked with Werner Erhard, among others, in his distinguished career, and travels (or did travel pre-pandemic) more than 200,000 miles a year, delivering seminars and keynote speeches, as well as individual coaching with organizational leaders. When he's not on the road, he's at home in Ojai with wife Darlene, enjoying small-town life and sharpening his golf game.

We talked about the nature of creating lasting change, of leadership tenets, of old Arab proverbs and fire threats and the climate emergency. We did not talk about Victorian medical devices, our favorite "Fast & Furious" films or the Battle of Marathon.

Kelley D'Angelo, founder of Lark Ellen Farms, has seen her business increase dramatically during the pandemic. Her line of sprouted, low-carb, high-protein granolas, trail mixes and vegan patés have found a growing list of devoted customers over the past few years and it all began, and remains, here in Ojai. 

She got her start as "Granola Girl" at local farmers markets and, with encouragement from Ernest Niglio, manager of Rainbow Bridge  an enthusiastic proponent of local products, decided to go big into grocery chains. Then she took her show on the road, taking orders from other retail grocers, starting with Lazy Acres, then adding Whole Foods and branching out regionally then nationally. It's a family affair for Kelley, working with sister, mother and father, selling products at the Ojai Farmers Market, manufacturing at their facility on Bryant Street and ramping up online sales.

It was a steep learning process, figuring out the stores' internal "category review," getting meetings with buyers, giving out big amounts of free product to jump start the process. We also talk about the "shelf wars" that go on at grocery stores, "it's a product of who has the most money to get their product on the shelf." That Lark Ellen Farms has succeeded in this ruthless space says a lot about Ojai as a laboratory for product launches, its openness to new flavors and food experiences, and the inspiration a supportive community can provide a young entrepreneur.

We did not talk about Joe DiMaggio's 56-game hitting streak, the hardiness of Mongolian ponies or the coming new season of "The Things We Do in the Shadows."