California Gold: Lake Merritt in Oakland

Frankie and the Lake

Oakland, CA, USA
Text and Photos by Jason McKenney

Oakland’s not so bad, is it? The sky is a bit cloudy today and there is a hint of mist in the air, but otherwise it’s very comfortable out here. Lake Merritt sits in the eastern part of the city and drains southward into a part of the bay that surrounds Alameda Island. We’re staying with friends in Marin County but my wife has a business meeting in Oakland this morning. So Francesca (or “Frankie” for short) and I are killing some time.

Being that she’s only six months old, there hasn’t been much time for father-daughter bonding between myself and Frankie outside of the house. I was looking forward to pushing the stroller around the lake, leisurely, lazily. But we forgot the stroller. I left it back at the house when we were in such a huff to get going this morning. It was a forty-five minute drive from Marin County across the Richmond Bridge, down past Berkeley and into Oakland. I dropped of the wife at her office and parked the car.

“Just you and me, kid, for two hours.”

No stroller. The car seat is way too heavy to lug around. Thankfully my daughter is light. I will carry this bundle of punkins around the lake and see what kinds of adventures we can find.

She is my first child. She appears to be a very happy baby. I often wonder what she will be like when she grows up. Will she be interested in traveling, in foreign cultures, in art, in science? Will she be curious about all those subjects that make life so beautiful? Will we have a good relationship as she grows up or will she rebel and run off? Will she find a good man who loves her and cares for her or will she spend weekend evenings at home alone, wondering what it would be like to be popular.

If you’re a good parent then your children will learn to be upstanding, productive members of society. So goes the typical idioms on such concerns. But what about those kids who have good parents and good homes and simply don’t turn out right? We all know people like that, don’t we? Or two siblings, one is an angel, the other a devil. How does that happen? Will Frankie be a little hellion? Will she be apathetic to others? Cold? Heartless? I try my best not to get too far ahead of myself. She’s six months old. Enjoy this moment.

Lake Merritt is actually a large tidal lagoon with a circumference of more than three miles. It’s surrounded by parkland and gardens and hosts a small boating center where sailboats, canoes, and rowboats can be rented by visitors. It was also the nation’s first official wildlife refuge going all the way back to 1870.

So my daughter is nestled in my arms like a football. All fourteen pounds of her. I zip up her pink sweatshirt and pull the hoodie tight. She has on jeans, but no socks or shoes. It’s not cold enough to freeze her toes but I keep one hand over her tiny empanadas anyway just to make sure they stay warm. She stares up at me with her big blue eyes then looks across the wide silvery surface of the lake. Even with a cloudy sky and the threat of rain, there are plenty of people walking along the same jogging path we are on. Business people taking a break from work, campers on a trip to the docks, runners flying past us with buzzing earbuds in, retirees ambling around the lake’s perimeter like visiting potentates.

Outside the Fairyland

We receive smiles from many of the women who walk past us…or at least Frankie does. “So cute,” says one lady, breaking off mid-conversation from her friend to take notice of punkins. I feel a little self-conscious for carrying her this way. Shouldn’t I have a stroller? Shouldn’t she at least have socks? It’s cold out here. Am I a bad dad? I wonder if anyone thinks I’ve stolen this child and am making a daring getaway.

Circling around the north edge of the lake we pass the small amusement park called Children’s Fairyland. It was apparently one of the inspirations for Disneyland, toured by Walt Disney himself several times in the 1950s. On this day Fairyland feels small and tired. More like a traveling carnival setup than a progenitor of theme parks. We don’t go inside, but I can hear children laughing (screaming? – for some reason I giggle at the thought) from the other side of the high fences.

Entering the Bonsai Garden

Continuing on we find the Bonsai Garden nestled amongst some of the picnic areas on the north side of the lake. The stucco walls around the garden are built up to look like the elegant structures of Feudal Japan. A red Torii gate stands near the entrance like a giant pi symbol. Entrance into the garden is free (but donations are welcome). They also sell bonsai t-shirts for twenty bucks, cash or credit.

“Have you been here before?” asks the caretaker at the gate. I say no, noticing a series of beautiful and intricate bonsai trees lining the walkways. Several older folks, probably retirees, are scattered about, trimming trees, handling garden tools, talking amongst themselves. “We started back in 1990,” the older man continues. “Folks bring their trees and work on them whenever they want. Feel free to look around.”

Beautiful sculpting in the

Bonsai Garden

The garden is very peaceful but I’m getting hungry and so is Frankie. She begins shifting in my arms, trying to be a good sport but her patience is wearing thin. She has been well behaved on our little walk which has now lasted nearly an hour. My arms are beginning to ache. The next day they will be sore as if I had spent the day at the gym doing presses. I decide to walk back to the car where her bottle is and give her lunch before mom’s meeting is finished.

On our return walk I reflect on my own childhood. I wonder if my father had the same worries and concerns for me that I am now having for Frankie. I’m sure he did. I’m sure most parents do. Having children is the best way to gain insight to what your parents went through during those early days: sleepless nights, feedings, cleanings, changings, sacrificing what had once been their “life” to now help nurture and create someone else’s. Without going through that experience yourself you can never truly understand what it took to get you where you are now.

I pause for a moment to watch a duck bobbing in the water. Frankie stares for a moment as well, reflecting on the bird. I wonder what she’s thinking. Her face is grave, fervent. I turn her towards me and make a cha-cha-cha sound and she beams with a giant grin. She’s a happy baby. Enjoying the moment.

Lake Merritt in Oakland, CA