OUR ROOTS
So, Who The Hell Is Girl 820?
I've lived a few lives in this one, and I don't believe I 'm anywhere near finished.
I'm Tay Bacon-Lindsay.
I've spent most of my life on the move. Not running from anything. Just drawn to whatever might be waiting around the next bend. A new place, a new adventure, something to learn, something to build.
I suspect I got that from my dad.
I've never been particularly good at sitting still. And truthfully, I've never considered that a problem.
The Name He Gave Me
My dad was Bo.
Stupid handsome. Wild. Always on the move.
The kind of man who could find an adventure on his way to get a gallon of milk.
He was born outside the lines and
lived louder than the rules allowed.
I suspect that's where I got my restless spirit.
He had three wild boys before I came along.
And then there was me. His only girl.
He called me Girl.
Just Girl.
He had this rough, warm way about him. He didn't need a lot of words to let you know where you stood.
He probably never imagined that the name he gave me would someday become the name of a skincare company.
But here we are.
No. 820
The number 820 belongs to my
brother Donny.
It's a moment in time that changed my life
and became something I carry with me.
Some stories don't need explaining. This
one is mine.
It reminds me to keep the people I love
close, cut through the noise, and stay loyal to
what's real.
Everything else can fall away.
820 the heartbeat beneath this brand.
Steady. Personal. Always there.
The Bacon Boys
Three wild brothers. One sister.
Donny, Mike, and Scott.
Those boys were crazy about me, and believe me, the feeling
was mutual.
We were a tight bunch. Creative, mischievous, fiercely loyal, and
probably a little exhausting to anyone who wasn't a Bacon.
Those boys traveled everywhere. There was always another road to take, another place to see, another adventure waiting.
Fishing. They loved it. Alwys had a pole in their truck. Got that from
our dad.
Looking back, I suppose none of us were particularly good at sitting still.
Must have been something in the Bacon blood.
My brothers called me "The Warden," "The Governor, "and "Miss Kitty."
Apparently, I had a management position in the family.
They could give me hell like nobody else, but there wasn't a thing they wouldn't have done for me. And I felt exactly the same about them.
All three of my brothers are gone now. But they're woven into who I am, the way I live, and the things I believe.
They'd probably give me a hard time about all this.
And I'd give just about anything to hear it.
A Few Lives Along The Way
At seventeen I bought my frst truck, 1962 Chevy pick up and headed from Oregon to Whitefish, Montana to plant trees, up near the Canadian border.
From there came wildland firefighting, emergency medicine, college, and a whole lot of life in between.
I've spent a good part of my life traveling. Sometimes following work, sometimes following an opportunity, and sometimes because there was simply something
new I wanted to experience.
And I loved it.
I raised two children along the way. I taught them both to scuba dive. My daughter was certified in Mexico, my son in Jamaica. We explored together, and my son seemed to inherit that same itch for adventure.
I've logged more than 150 scuba dives, including one with sharks. I've ridden motorcycles, hauled rodeo bulls, had a ranch in Texas, and owned a restaurant.
I've also spent years painting, throwing pottery, and making art. I even had my work in a gallery in Portland, Oregon [Hawthrone area].
And for more than 35 years, I've worked in behavior consultation, primarily supporting children and people with developmental disabilities. It's meaningful work, and I still do it today.
I've been fortunate enough to follow my interests, take a few chances, and experience some extraordinary things.
I never saw much reason to be just one thing.
Still don't.
Road trip to Southern Cal [1979]
Forever a River Rat- Rogue River [ 1990]
Kai and I in Diving Mexico [ 1996]
A Little Piece of Heaven
Sterling
These days, home is 13 acres tucked into the mountains of
Southern Oregon, along Sterling Creek.
There are enormous trees outside my windows, mountains rising behind them, and a creek running through it all. Although in the hot summers, it does dry up.
I've always been a water dog. Rivers, lakes, oceans, creeks.
Doesn't matter much. If there's water nearby, chances are I'm headed for it.
I share this beautiful place with my guy, whom I'm crazy about, two horses, and Django, my German Shepherd.
Django is brilliant, loving, and loyal beyond reason. She seems to think keeping an eye on me is her full-time job.
And she takes that job seriously.
Before Django, there was Meaty McDows. A little homeless
pit bull who came to me with a rough beginning and went on to live the life of Riley for twelve years.
I spent those years protecting him and covering up his various crimes. He spent them protecting me.
We had an understanding.
My children are grown now, and I have four grandchildren.
I've loved a lot of people, made some wonderful memories,
and still have plenty of adventures ahead.
I love this little piece of heaven. The Applegate Valley is were I always return when I am ready to "home."
But don't mistake having roots for standing still.
Meaty McDoggins
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Django
The Flame
SALI — THE WOMAN BEFORE ME
Before tallow became fashionable, there was Sali.
A Choctaw woman from Oklahoma who carried the old ways with her, spoke her Native language, and believed in things the modern world has mostly forgotten.
Every fall, a fire was built and carefully tended by my father and his brothers. Over that fire sat a great black pot. And there was Sali, rendering tallow and making enough soap to carry the family through another year.
But there was more to Sali than that black pot.
She was a woman of traditions, superstitions, and a life I wish I could have witnessed.
Before I was born, she said I would be a girl.
She was right.
She held me. Rocked me. Chanted to me.
And not long afterward, she was gone.
I've spent a lifetime fascinated by a woman I barely had the chance to know.
And somewhere along the way, I found myself returning to something she once
knew so well.
Tallow.
