“So UC Santa Cruz is divided into six colleges and one college, named Cowell college, was named after a girl, Sarah Cowell whose family was very wealthy and started the Santa Cruz school house. Legend has it that when she was alive in the 1830s, she took her horse and carriage out to the fields to pick some wildflowers, but in a tragic accident her horse ran over her and killed her. So now whenever there is a production in the Barn Theatre at Cowell college, the stage manager of the show has to go pick wildflowers and leave them for Sarah in the theatre. Also, the actors have to say ‘Hi Sarah’ whenever they walk into to the theatre and you have to thank Sarah in the program for the show or else something will go awry in the show.”

Kat told me she first heard this story in the Fall of 2007 when she was involved in a production at the Barn Theatre. She said that all the theatre students take this legend very seriously and are very superstitious about it. They all really do say “Hi Sarah” when they walk in the theatre, and the stage manager has to actually go pick wildflowers and bring them for the spirit of Sarah Cowell.

Kat believes that the significance of this story lies in the fact that the Cowell family was so wealthy and so important to the formation of UC Santa Cruz. She said that this ghost story, along with the Cowell college being named after her, is a way that Sarah’s name will never die when her life had been taken away so suddenly. Kat said that it is supposed to have been a very difficult loss for her parents to cope with. Kat also said that this ghost story is also a way for the tradition of honoring the late Sarah Cowell to be continued so that she will not curse a theatre production at the Barn Theatre. It is at the same time a good luck charm that she is there, because as long as you bring her flowers and greet her, the show will be a success.

This ghost story reminded me of the ghosts that haunted the theatre at my high school and how in a similar fashion, those involved in theatre productions were brought together through this common knowledge of the theatre ghost. It seems to be the case in Santa Cruz as well. It is almost a mark of initiation that you are not truly a member of the Barn Theatre unless you know about Sarah Cowell and her legacy. This ghost story creates a common bond with all those who have performed at the Barn Theatre in Santa Cruz.

“There was this tree with the bark kind of shaped like a menacing face.  If someone climbed up on it, evil devils or like Satanic spirits will come out and push you off.  Once this boy climbed up and he fell off the tree and died.”

Joseph said that he heard this local legend about a cursed tree in Missouri during the second grade from a female classmate.  Though he was living in Ontario, California at the time, his friend whom he heard the legend from had moved there from Missouri.  He said that she drew a frightening picture of the gnarled tree and after seeing the drawing and hearing of this story of the cursed tree, he frequently had nightmares and would always shudder at the thought of the tree.  Though he is unsure of the exact details that his friend told him, Joseph reported that the Missouri town’s newspaper included a story of a young boy around his age who climbed the tree and later fell to his death.  Joseph said he does not know how exactly the boy fell, but he doubts it was an accident because of his belief in the legend—he considers the idea of evil spirits rushing out of the tree to push the boy off as a real possibility.  This, in turn, proves the influence of legends and their ability to invite discussions about belief.

This particular local legend indeed deals with the supernatural—in this case, demonic forces rather than a heavenly deity.  It also speaks volumes about the (probably rural) town in which it arose.  For a second grader to be able to recount its unpleasant details, the legend must be of major significance to the town’s identity, or at least to young people’s perception of that identity.  Now, I cannot help but be amused at the idea that an old legend can still frighten the likes of a tough, grown male.  Yet ultimately this demonstrates the lasting power of the legend and its continued relevance to contemporary society.

“There were two poor brothers.  One was really nice and one was evil.  The nice one had a very faithful dog, and the evil one decided to kill the dog.  After he killed the dog, the nice one was really sad and buried the dog in the yard.  Later, a tree grew over the dog’s grave, and the tree had fruit.  The nice brother picked the fruit and ate it, and realized that it had a magical power! It made his farts smell really good.  So, he told a few people and nobody believed him until he actually farted, and then they were all really amazed.  They suggested him to go around and make money off this cool talent.  So he went into the town square and started hollering ‘mai xiang pi!’ (which means ‘I’m smelling aromatic farts!’).  And people just laughed at him, but gave him a bit of change anyway to see what he could do, and when he did it, butterflies and birdies circled him and everyone was amazed at the crazy-good smell.  So, he started making a huge fortune off his farts from the fruits in his backyard, and eventually rumor reached the King.  The king is, of course, incredulous, and so he orders people to bring in the guy who can fart so well.  So when he arrived at the palace, the king tells him to prove it.  So the brother farts, and all these butterflies fly into the room and it smells great of course.  The king is so awed that he gives him money or something.  Basically, this nice brother is no longer a poor man.  Well, the evil brother gets really jealous, and so he steals the fruit off the tree in the yard and eats it.  He then marches directly into the palace and proclaims that he, too, can fart lovely smells and deserves the recognition and money too.  So the king tells him to proceed, and the evil brother farts right in front of the king.  But, his fart produced the most abhorrent smell ever sniffed by the king and the royal subjects, and the ugliest noise! So, the king punishes him and his reputation was completely ruined.”

A perfect example of good versus evil, reward and consequence, this legend was an old Chinese story that Marilyn said she learned from her parents (who learned it in China) when she was a young child in elementary school.  A humorous tale that also demonstrates the consequences and benefits for those who are malicious and those who are kindly, this legend was told to Marilyn as a piece of light-hearted entertainment that would keep her and her siblings from restlessness or boredom.  At the same time, it was a legend with a lesson, instilling in Marilyn and her siblings the ideas that along with goodness comes rewards and with rottenness comes punishment.  The legend therefore served as both a story to appease unsatisfied children and a method for Marilyn’s parents to subconsciously pass on bits and pieces of admonishment.

Also, the concept of a traditional Chinese legend that focuses on flatulence is quite unexpected.  Marilyn said that her initial reaction to the story was that it was hilarious and outrageous, but that she was also mildly surprised at the rather “gross” subject matter portrayed in a normally conservative culture.  However, the lack of conservativeness in the subject of the legend is probably due to the fact that it might not have come from conservative elites in the upper classes of society but from the folk themselves.  Another aspect of the legend that should be noted is that Marilyn concluded it with the social downfall of the evil brother rather than, say, his imprisonment or any specific details of his punishment.  The important part of the conclusion is that the brother’s reputation was ruined forever; this reflects the values of honor and social upstanding in the Chinese culture.  Without his reputation, the brother loses his identity and worth in the social hierarchy.

Ye Kurkum Ye – Nasrettin Hoca Hikayeleri (Eat My Fur Eat – The Stories of Nasrettin Hoca)

“This guy Nasrettin Hoca goes to a dinner party and he’s dressed in these old, ratty clothes and basically looks like a hobo.  The people there refuse to give him food or a table so then he leaves and goes home.  He changes into really nice clothes and goes back to the party where he’s given the best table and the best food.  He takes off his nice jacket and puts it in his food, and says my clothes can eat!”

Hande said that she learned this Turkish legend about a man named Nasrettin Hoca from her parents when she was a small child and living in Turkey at the time.  She said that she remembers going to a restaurant with her parents and her younger brother and, “like a little brat,” loudly expressing disgust at a stranger who was dressed in worn-down clothes and also waiting for a table.  At the restaurant, her mother and father immediately scolded her and took her outside to reprimand her not to act that way in public.  Then, once the family returned home, Hande and her brother were made to listen to their parents tell the legend of Nasrettin Hoca.  So for Hande, the legend served as an important tool for her parents to teach her about acceptable behavior in public, good manners, as well as the concept of looking underneath the surface and not judging other people from their appearances.

Thinking back, Hande said that for all she knew, the man at the restaurant could have had a million reasons to look the way he did, and that she still feels embarrassed when she thinks about what she did.  Just as the other guests at the dinner party in the legend must have learned from Hoca’s actions, so Hande must have learned from her own actions and her parents’ passing down of their folklore.  The legend of Hoca and the idea that a change in appearance inevitably brings about different reactions in other people was certainly relevant to real life and Hande’s in particular.  Though legends may or may not be true and invite discussions about belief, they can absolutely still be relatable and important to one’s own life and times.

Keenan McCollom/Jeff Newman – Legend of Matt Parker

Before the regular season started, Keenan and I took a class known as 6^th period baseball, however, otherwise known to the student body as, “Gardening 101.” At Fallbrook High School, we had the nicest best maintained field in all of San Diego County. It was not because it was a new facility. It was not because we had a good landscaping crew. It was actually because the players worked on it for hours each day. Coach Parker, head coach of the varsity team from 2000-2007, had us spend at least 1 hour every day, raking, shoveling, watering, clipping, brushing, and weeding the field to perfection. This was not a “normal perfect” either. In his words, which Keenan remembered very clearly, “Clean this place, not like it’s your house, but like it’s my house. I do not want a speck of anything, anywhere.” And he was dead serious. Coach Parker was the toughest coach in all of San Diego County. He was emotionally draining and just unpleasant. He would put you down if you failed, and not allow for any mistakes. So, if anything out of line, you would be running until you could not stand any longer. We were all petrified of him as players. The amazing part was we were not the only ones who were scared of him. The entire male student body was. The stories that circulated of the things he did to us were brutal on the best of days. Everyone feared the name Matt Parker.

Coach Parker was our slave master. He owned our lives from the moment we arrived at school, till the day we left for summer. We have many memories of cleaning that field for hours on end. Four years of garden work does something to a kid. We weren’t sure exactly what it was… but at least it did not kill us. The worst memory we have about cleaning the field were the taunts and insults that we received from the students passing us by. They knew we had no choice, but yet continued to make fun of us. It was known throughout all the 3000 kids in our student body that the baseball guys worked on that field for hours and hours. Looking back on the years we wasted on that field, all Keenan said to me was. “Man, Parker was a douche bag.” Albeit true, Parker believed that what he was making us do was character building He believed that this work improved our moral fiber and helped prepare us for the future. While he might have point, the things he made us do while we working were just nasty.

We knew what we were getting ourselves into when we signed up. Garden work for four months, and then we would get to play baseball. We all knew this, yet we all still signed up for the class. Playing ball was worth the hell we had to endure. At least we thought so. Keenan still remembers our sophomore year when Parker made us have a “Weed-Picking” competition. While this was okay in concept, the losing teams who picked the least amount of weeds in the time allotted would have to run miles around the track as punishment. Retrospectively, we can’t do much but laugh, but I remember the hatred I felt toward Parker during these ridiculous schemes that he would concoct. We hated it, but anyone watching us must have had the time of their life. 25 kids scrambling for weeds and then the losers having to run; Parker must have had many nice nights at home chuckling at how brilliant he thought he must have been. Parker is no longer the coach, but his legacy as a slave driver will forever live on through the stories that we continue to keep alive.

The legend of Matt Parker changed when a life-altering event occurred the summer after our senior year. He was coaching a travel ball team in Arizona and he brought his wife and one year old daughter with him. His wife and daughter decided to get a head start on the return trip home to California. In a tragic car accident, Mrs. Parker and Kierah Parker were killed. The memories the baseball team had of Matt Parker the tyrant and dictator immediately took a backseat. Coach Parker was not the nicest man, but no one deserves this kind of punishment. Parker quit coaching after this and his legendary name with him. The only memories of his coaching days remain with his players. And we are the last ones who are able to continue to keep the legend of Matt Parker alive because no new stories will ever be created.

RIP: Kari and Kierah Parker

Annotation:

Naiman, Joe. “Car Wash Fundraiser Held for Parker Family.” Fallbrook/Bonsall Village News 26 July 2007, 30 ed., sec. 11.