The first time I met Jerry Brown, he was judging the Dutch oven cook-off contest at the Colusa Western Days festival. Sixteen teams had set up outdoor ovens on the fairgrounds to compete for the best main dish, side, bread and dessert, cooked over open fires in cast iron pots. The governor of California and his wife, Anne, judged as a team, as they do almost everything.

  He had been drawn to the fair in the spring of 2015 not for the food but the community: He was spending weekends in rural Colusa County, an hour northwest of Sacramento, on an isolated ranch that had been in his family since 1878.

  Despite his aversion to selfies, the governor mingled comfortably at the cook-off, introducing children to his famous corgi, Sutter, and greeting the town’s retired doctor, who had started his practice in 1949 with a loan from Mr. Brown’s great-uncle. Then the governor headed to his nearby spread, still known as the Mountain House. The governor and Anne stayed in a small cabin, without water or electricity, off the grid.

  I had come to Colusa to see the ancestral Brown homestead and to fathom its appeal for a man who could live anywhere and chose to “reinhabitate” an area where rattlesnakes outnumbered people. In the course of a long conversation that afternoon, I began to appreciate why the land held such sway, and to think about how its history and that of the family offered a way to tell the history of California. Over time, I came to see Jerry Brown’s decision to build a future rooted in his past as key to understanding the man who ends his remarkable political career today, having served as California’s youngest governor in modern times, its oldest and its longest-tenured.

  I spent the next several years unraveling the intertwined stories of the extended Brown family and California, a saga of four generations in which, by virtue of his political longevity, Jerry Brown plays a central role. Among the paradoxes that soon emerged is that while he has been extraordinarily public and transparent, leaving a vast record, he has also guarded his privacy, careful to keep the world at a certain distance.

  The most striking feature of the voluminous archive from his early career, as secretary of state and governor in the 1970s, is how little the dozens of boxes reveal about their subject. Among the most personal items are two large Rolodexes, a road map to friends and acquaintances, hundreds of names and handwritten numbers, added and crossed out. In part, the absence of memos and letters stemmed from an (unwritten) rule of his administration: Don’t put anything in writing.

  But the papers were also carefully pruned before they reached the University of Southern California library. “I took the good stuff out,” Mr. Brown told me, with satisfaction. Yet buried among the thousands of crank letters and routine files, glimpses of his personal life sneaked through — a letter to an old girlfriend; a card from Lawrence Ferlinghetti; scrawled notes for an impromptu speech.

  Only in his youth did Mr. Brown have to write letters regularly, during the three and a half years he spent cloistered in a Jesuit seminary at the end of the 1950s. Fortunately, his father, who was California governor at the time, saved those letters in his own archives. The Jesuit values that the novice tried to explain to his parents remain central to his worldview decades after he renounced the religious order, frustrated in particular by the vow of obedience. Among other things, the Jesuits shaped his ascetic tastes, aversion to embellishment and determination to resist the cult of personality — to the extent he refused to sign autographs for school children during his early terms as governor.

  An overriding theme that emerged in his writings and in our conversations was the importance of community. In different forms throughout his life, the introvert found communal life in the Society of Jesus, at International House in Berkeley, at the Yale Law School dorms and at the Zen Center of San Francisco, where he recruited key staff members during his first years in office. He enjoyed campaigns because the group activity was “very tribal.” As Mr. Brown plotted his return to power in the 1990s, he created his own commune in Oakland, banning refrigerators in the living units in an effort to push people to eat together.

  If Oakland seemed an improbable launching pad for political reinvention, Colusa is in some ways an equally counterintuitive place for Mr. Brown to seek, and to build, community. Yet he has gone all out in adopting that sparsely populated, barren county. “Age Quod Agis,” the Jesuits taught him; do what you are doing. He has met neighbors, studied the flora and fauna, become a regular at the local steakhouse, and dropped in frequently on cousins whom he barely knew for most of his life. He attends Easter sunrise service at a cross near the ranch and spends Memorial Day at the cemetery where his grandmother and great-grandparents are buried. His only indirect request when he read my finished manuscript was that I include the short poem on his great-grandmother’s grave.

  This nonconformist, gruff conversationalist who grills his grandnephews on why they don’t read T.S. Eliot is also a sentimentalist who places great weight on tradition. He became the first governor to live in the Executive Mansion since his father. He invited childhood friends to birthday parties there and used the house to woo recalcitrant legislators to close complex deals. “It has a life,” he said recently. “Everything is not disruption and change. There has to be continuity, rootedness and memory. That’s also part of who we are as a people.”

  By last year, the once-abandoned family homestead in Colusa had been transformed in time to celebrate a family Christmas. The newly planted olive orchard produced the first crop of Mountain House olive oil, which Mr. Brown drove around town to distribute, tracking down three cousins at the local casino and the neighbor who could always be found fixing something in his barn.

  This summer, on the last day of his last legislative session, the governor visited the Senate chamber and joked about running for office in Colusa, a Republican county he has never carried. The last bill he signed, the final of almost 20,000 in four terms, came with a message that quoted Exodus and ended: “Now on to the Promised Land — Colusa County!”

  The promised land that awaited Mr. Brown’s great-grandfather when he crossed the Plains in 1852 became the starting point in my own journey to understand the Golden State. Tracing the strands that began in Colusa offered a way to make sense of California, through the family that had embraced the land and shaped its history.

  Mr. Brown will retire to the solar-powered house built on the ranch and get to work on the Colusa Institute. He believes the aura of the land will lend itself to productive conversations on the great issues he has focused on in recent years — climate change, nuclear proliferation, criminal justice reform.

  In the old days, his cousins told him, they would escape the brutal summer heat in the city by going to the Mountain House, where a welcome breeze would greet them as they entered the valley. Breeze in Latin is “anima,” Mr. Brown, the former classics major, points out, and anima also means spirit. It is a spiritual place where things can happen, and people can come together, the place where an 80-year-old ex-governor can walk in his grandmother’s footsteps, and plot yet one more reinvention.

  Miriam Pawel, a contributing opinion writer, is the author of “The Browns of California: The Family Dynasty That Transformed a State and Shaped a Nation.”

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  大众老牌图库看图区【樊】【耘】【一】【听】【这】【话】【就】【蒙】【了】,【他】【说】,“【樊】【栀】,【我】【什】【么】【时】【候】【答】【应】【要】【洗】【碗】【了】?” 【樊】【栀】【理】【所】【当】【然】【地】【说】【道】,“【紫】【甘】【忙】【了】【一】【整】【天】,【你】【身】【为】【她】【老】【公】,【难】【道】【就】【不】【能】【体】【谅】【一】【下】【她】,【洗】【一】【次】【碗】。” 【樊】【耘】【好】【笑】【地】【说】【道】,“【阮】【宁】【栀】,【你】【过】【分】【了】【啊】,【从】【古】【到】【今】,【哪】【有】【男】【人】【干】【家】【务】,【女】【人】【坐】【着】【闲】【聊】【的】【道】【理】?【这】【家】【务】【活】【不】【一】【直】【都】【是】【你】【们】【女】【人】【干】【的】【吗】,【累】

【对】【于】【吴】【望】【的】【讽】【刺】,【纪】【夕】【朗】【没】【有】【生】【气】:“【大】【司】【马】【想】【要】【证】【据】,【下】【官】【自】【然】【是】【有】【了】【证】【据】【才】【敢】【来】【围】【司】【马】【府】,【下】【官】【虽】【不】【如】【父】【亲】【办】【案】【那】【么】【有】【经】【验】,【但】【这】【如】【何】【办】【案】【下】【官】【还】【是】【清】【楚】【明】【白】【的】。” “【是】【吗】!”【吴】【望】【眯】【着】【眼】【盯】【着】【纪】【夕】【朗】,【眼】【神】【变】【得】【阴】【狠】【起】【来】。 【就】【在】【这】【时】,【尤】【楠】【棋】【大】【步】【地】【踏】【出】【了】【司】【马】【府】,【直】【直】【走】【向】【纪】【夕】【朗】:“【纪】【司】【直】,【这】【是】【司】


  【顾】【寻】【踪】【呆】【坐】【在】【马】【上】,【扯】【了】【扯】【嘴】【角】,【再】【三】【确】【认】【道】:“【你】【的】【意】【思】【是】【说】,【你】【不】【但】【用】【刀】【护】【我】【周】【全】,【晚】【上】【还】【给】【我】【暖】【床】?” 【霜】【杀】【莞】【尔】【一】【笑】【道】:“【只】【要】【王】【爷】【想】。【霜】【杀】,【奉】【陪】【到】【底】!” 【顾】【寻】【踪】:“【有】【这】【等】【好】【事】?” 【霜】【杀】:“【就】【有】【这】【等】【好】【事】!【怎】【么】,【王】【爷】【嫌】【弃】【我】【粗】【陋】【吗】?【我】【也】【就】【拿】【刀】【的】【手】【糙】【了】【些】,【不】【过】。【身】【子】【却】【不】【比】【马】【车】【内】大众老牌图库看图区【在】【宫】【辰】【十】【岁】【的】【时】【候】,【苏】【淼】【选】【择】【回】【了】【苏】【家】【接】【替】【苏】【父】,【至】【于】【宫】【辰】【已】【经】【不】【小】【了】,【由】【归】【一】【带】【着】,【加】【之】【有】【传】【送】【阵】【的】【存】【在】,【往】【返】【十】【分】【方】【便】。 【只】【是】【宫】【少】【卿】【对】【此】【有】【些】【不】【开】【心】,【但】【还】【是】【选】【择】【尊】【重】【苏】【淼】【的】【决】【定】,【在】【忙】【完】【魔】【宫】【的】【事】【情】【后】,【也】【会】【用】【传】【送】【阵】【来】【苏】【府】【陪】【伴】【苏】【淼】,【顺】【便】【帮】【她】【处】【理】【一】【些】【事】【情】,【让】【苏】【淼】【能】【多】【休】【息】【一】【下】。 【至】【于】【苏】【父】,【卸】【下】

  【月】【姬】【被】【这】【突】【然】【的】【一】【下】【撞】【的】【有】【些】【迷】【糊】。 【揉】【着】【自】【己】【的】【脑】【袋】【缓】【缓】【抬】【起】【头】,“【好】【疼】【啊】……” 【仰】【头】【皱】【眉】【看】【着】【挡】【在】【自】【己】【眼】【前】【的】【人】。 【夏】【祈】【渊】【低】【头】【看】【着】【撞】【到】【自】【己】【怀】【里】【的】【人】,【视】【线】【和】【她】【对】【上】。 【待】【看】【清】【她】【的】【容】【貌】,【表】【情】【有】【一】【瞬】【的】【空】【白】。 【月】【姬】【皱】【着】【眉】【头】【想】【了】【想】,【自】【己】【好】【像】【见】【过】【这】【个】【男】【人】。 【尽】【言】【一】【进】【来】【就】【看】【见】【月】【姬】【撞】【在】【别】

  【徐】【川】【轻】【轻】【点】【了】【点】【头】【便】【是】【在】【心】【底】【轻】【声】【道】: “【查】【看】。” 【徐】【川】【知】【道】,【在】【自】【己】【完】【成】【化】【翼】【丹】【的】【炼】【制】【之】【后】,【原】【本】【系】【统】【给】【出】【的】“【通】【过】【药】【师】【公】【会】【的】【药】【师】【等】【级】【测】【试】”【的】【任】【务】【便】【算】【正】【式】【完】【成】【了】,【至】【于】【这】【任】【务】【完】【成】【究】【竟】【会】【有】【什】【么】【奖】【励】,【徐】【川】【心】【底】【也】【是】【有】【着】【几】【分】【好】【奇】。 【虽】【说】【这】【只】【是】【一】【条】【支】【线】【任】【务】,【奖】【励】【可】【能】【不】【会】【太】【丰】【厚】,【可】【是】【对】【于】【系】【统】

  【这】【眼】【看】【到】【了】【双】【十】【一】,【怎】【么】【着】【也】【要】【有】【福】【利】。 【策】【划】、【制】【片】【兼】【主】【持】【人】【人】【称】“【爱】【吃】【肉】【的】【小】【菌】【菇】”【暗】【搓】【搓】【地】【找】【了】【个】【名】【目】,【游】【说】【姜】【和】【成】【功】,【当】【然】【谭】【鹤】【渊】【就】【跟】【着】【来】【了】。 【于】【是】【爱】【吃】【肉】【的】【小】【菌】【菇】【下】【面】【简】【称】“【菌】【菇】”【开】【始】【了】【采】【访】。 【没】【采】【访】【之】【前】,【她】【双】【眼】【已】【经】【不】【受】【控】【制】【地】【盯】【上】【了】【谭】【鹤】【渊】,【我】【滴】【妈】,【这】【太】【像】【油】【画】【里】【的】、【素】【描】【画】、【国】【画】【等】