The horror of fungus is that you never know when or where it will erupt. Its spores are everywhere. Often in the dark, damp places. Lurking… waiting… and, when a fungus does make itself known, it is often disguised as harmless, even useful. Could it be edible? Medicinal? Does it give those who use it “knowledge” beyond normal expectations — knowledge that could change the trajectory of our lives? What role did fungi have in the famous Salem Witch Trials of the 17th century? And if there was a fungus among those two-legged unfortunates, could there be such a fungus among us now?
I was more than a little horrified last week when a couple of The Honorary Oysterville Militia volunteers brought the cannon out of its winter quarters and there, firmly attached to its carriage wheels, were several large and very creepy-looking toadstools. Or mushrooms. Definitely some sort of fungus! Eeeeuuuu!
Suddenly, I was transported back 79 years to my 5th grade class at Lincoln School in Alameda, California, and the teacher was telling us to never ever eat, taste, or even touch a “mushroom-like-plant” for fear of instant paralysis and death. I don’t remember that teacher’s name. I do remember that she took us on a field trip — a first for us — out in the country. Perhaps her mushroom warning had something to do with preparing us for that trip.
Time passed. I spent a year in Europe and fell in love with French cuisine. I became an avid fan of Julia Child’s television show “The French Chef,” and conquered every recipe in her first cookbook, “Mastering the Art of French Cooking” — or at least as well as I could without the benefit of mushrooms. They were still a line over which I could not go.

Meeting the Shroomers

In the 70s I moved to the Peninsula full-time after 40-some years as a summertime visitor. I remember lamenting the lack of “gourmet” food choices here. But shortly, along came Blaine Walker who put out the call for garden snails that he converted to escargot! And Pat Hammond and her partner who had the Fish Market in Ocean Park began importing San Francisco sourdough bread! Life was looking up. At least until Spring tra-la when woods and fields were overtaken by… the Shroomers!
It was a great revelation to find that folks I had known for years — ordinary, everyday neighbors — were mushroom hunters extraordinaire. From teenagers with an eye for the hallucinogens to the gourmets with well-guarded secret spots for their favorite chanterelles and King Boletus…the list went on and on. Most revered of all the shroomers was Veronica Williams, dubbed “the queen of the region’s fungal fiefdom” in 2019 by a writer for Washington’s Magazine.
Gradually, I’ve gotten over myself… a little. I no longer scan the obituaries for sudden forager accidents, and I’ve become brave enough to accept dinner invitations even if the menu includes mushrooms. I am grateful for all the medicinal uses of the myriad forms of unseen fungi that surround and occupy (yes, occupy!) us from birth. And when the wooden cannon wheels appeared to be infested with spores-in-waiting, I bravely asked a friend to help me get rid of the offending fungi. Left to their own devices, they would soon break down the wooden fibers of the cannon wheels and our problems would multiply. Expensively.
But what about the two-legged fungi?
It does not seem happenstance to me that the term “fungus” in its most insidious sense has become linked to our current national political leadership and their followers — those spore-like disruptions who have suddenly appeared as though from the hidden dark places of our land. Yet, they have been there all along…waiting for the environment to be suitable for their appearance among us. This two-legged variety, like their namesake, are not only opportunists, but are clever at staying out of sight until conditions are favorable.
According to various sites on the internet, most edible mushrooms ripen and become collectible during the late summer and autumn, especially after periods of rain. However, some species, like morels, can be found in the spring, while others, like oyster mushrooms, may continue to fruit into the fall. It is not lost on me that those seasonal appearances coordinate well with our traditional election season.
Or is it that most of us can’t really differentiate between lethal and helpful when it comes to fungi, even of the two-legged variety, until it may be too late? And is it sensible to reject all those who appear to be poisonous when we risk losing out on a gourmet food experience or political renaissance of a lifetime? How do we navigate boldly yet safely in this time of abrupt and seemingly impetuous change in our institutions, our laws, our very way of life? How can we sensibly deal with the menace without succumbing to the sort of avoidance caused by my well-meaning teacher of long ago? It’s a challenge I trust we are up to!