July 22, 2026

It’s not fun to be humbled. But sometimes, buried in painful lessons, there are seeds for growth.

Every summer I work for four weeks at a restaurant. But not just any restaurant. It’s a 1,000 seat outdoor restaurant in an old growth redwood forest. But not just any primeval redwood forest. It’s the Bohemian Grove, an exclusive private men’s club for the rich and famous that is often characterized by outsiders as being shrouded in a veil of secrecy.

Inside our Dining Circle there are about 30 towering redwood trees that are themselves surrounded by 2700 acres of forest. I’m one of about 200 servers, bussers, cooks, and managers working among the redwood picnic tables, along with about 800 other employees in the larger summer encampment, including shuttle drivers, camp valets, security and fire department personnel, medical staff, maintenance people, and administrative support.

This is my 14th summer at the storied enclave on the Russian River here in Sonoma County. It’s no secret that celebrities such as singer Jimmy Buffet, comedian Conan O’Brian, documentary filmmaker Ken Burns, former Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, and Grateful Dead drummer Mickey Hart are or have been members of the club, and I’ve seen and/or served some of them. But I don’t recognize most of the men at my tables, and my Dining Circle coworkers are primarily high school and college kids, so my job is hardly glamorous.

Even so, there are worse places to earn travel money than a beautiful forest cathedral, complete with organ music reverberating throughout the giant redwoods.

Being a food server can be hectic and stressful in a fast paced environment, but my main challenge is internal and self inflicted. While outwardly I may appear good natured, or at least stoic, inside I can be curmudgeonly, judgmental, opinionated, and impatient. I’m not proud of those feelings of resentment of my coworkers for being flaky, sloppy, incompetent, or inconsiderate. Buddha only knows what they think of me. So each dinner shift is a struggle for mindfulness, of being aware of my negative thoughts and emotions and then letting go of my expectations about how I think other people ought to behave.

One strategy I use to overcome my inner crankiness is to thank and praise my teammates when they do something right. By focusing on their positive traits rather than their shortcomings I’m able to shift my attitude to a higher vibrational frequency of appreciation, which helps make all of us feel better in a sometimes challenging environment.

Another approach I use to tame my arrogance is to remember my own youthful foolish behavior. I worked my way through college as a kitchen helper at Herrick Hospital in Berkeley, and while I was an energetic employee, I could also be a goof-off.

One time, as a prank, I arranged the fan in our hot underground dishroom so that it faced a fellow dishwasher. He was grateful for the cool rushing air until I threw orange jello into the fan and it sprayed him and his white uniform with tangerine-colored gelatin. Enraged, he chased me down the hall and threw a baked potato at me. Sensing the incoming missile behind me, I leaped into the air and the potato sailed under my feet. I laughed and laughed, but he didn’t appreciate my humor.

So who am I to judge my teen workmates? And yet I do so, until I remember that I was once just as much of a screw-off as some of them are now.

Maybe my job in the Grove is karmic payback for my own youthful follies.

It’s emotionally uncomfortable to confront my shadow side and my hypocrisy. But each time I don my red server smock and black slacks I have a great opportunity to learn, and re-learn, humility and forgiveness.

I don’t have the money, property, status, power, or fame of some of the men that I serve. But I’m grateful for the chance to face and sometimes overcome my deficiencies and thereby experience a different kind of accomplishment. And I don’t even have to dodge any baked potatoes.