For an Afternoon, Fountains Turn Island Into Paradise

Seen from a mall, by me.

It’s midday, weekday, sunny skies, whispers of a wind, a few clean cotton clouds. Beautiful. Nothing to do but stroll, and look, nose around. I don’t get to do this as often as I’d like.

I’ve only been to Fashion Island twice before, both times with my husband, but my husband is not the shopping kind. (Although he does grocery stores quite well.)

A while back a reader--I’ll call her a she, but that’s only a guess--dropped me a note “just to return some of the pleasure you have given me.”

She didn’t give me an address, or a phone, and only signed half her name. She said she had taken her grandchildren, Scott and Ali, to the movies a few weekends back at Fashion Island.

Then they saw the fountains.

“It was a very pleasant little outing,” she writes, “but the best part was seeing with the kids those two wonderful fountains that are installed there, one in front of I. Magnin’s and one in the Island courtyard.

“These fountains express better than anything else I have seen the pure spirit of fun , of joy in the beauty and possibilities of water. Other fountains are nice, but most people walk on by without really noticing them. These fountains cause people to stop, look and laugh.

“There is no age or art education barrier here; the littlest children can feel the humor of the water-lumps popping up unexpectedly from the first fountain, and are drawn to walk around on it and risk getting a little wet.

“The other one, it seems to me, expresses the spirit of celebration so plainly that it draws in any spectators and makes them feel good . For me, it goes beyond good feelings to an experience of joy.”

Well. Only a fool could refuse an invitation such as this.

But first the music. It envelops me en route to the fountains, in the atrium, floating up from the food court.

A woman sits behind a baby grand piano, her fingers pecking, jumping, sliiiiding over the keys, her body swaying in time. Donna Blackwood is a “piano stylist.” She has pink business cards and a megawatt smile.

Shopper Charles Von Steinel, an envelope sticking out of his breast pocket, his shirt buttons straining across his waist, is next to her, belting out show tunes. His old felt hat is now a prop in his hand.

He’d been drinking sake at the sushi bar only moments before.

The audience--coffee drinkers, sippers of sodas, clerks on a break, business people in suits and coordinated “looks,” a woman in a purple beret, a Sinead O’Connor look-alike, a man talking into a stroller between bites--clearly approves of this surprise.

They all clap, thunderously, with joy.

Charles tells me later he was trained to sing “in places like this,” then he sweeps an arm across the food court, up toward the plexiglass and beyond. But Charles means Vienna and Rome.

This is what Newport Beach has, however. Malls are the town squares of today. This one, so far, delights.

Then the fountain in the Island courtyard stops me cold and quickly turns me warm. Lots of other people are here too, hooked on its lure.

Khoo Ling Ling, a visitor from Singapore, says she’s never seen a wonder like this anywhere in the world. It’s low and round, oceanic. The water curls into waves of foam, pulled by an unseen force, then straightens as if into glass. It’s magic is what it is.

People stop to talk about it; they point, stare, gaze. Some are alone, entranced. Two men gesture to each other, trying to explain what must be going on inside. A little girl standing on the ledge gives her baby brother a kiss.

Then just down the aisle, past the pet store and the collections of wooden toys, water marbles are popping up from some mysterious holes.

Chelsea Shioya, 2 years old, is running on top of this fountain, trying to figure it out, but then again, not too much. It just is .

Her father, Takashi, watches from a nearby table with Sparky, the golden retriever, and Riley, the Australian shepherd. Lynn Shioya, Takashi’s wife, named the dogs for Sparky Anderson of the Detroit Tigers and Pat Riley of Lakers fame. These are Lynn’s favorite teams.

The Shioya family makes this trip from San Clemente about once every week. They come for the fountain, of course. It’s Chelsea’s thing.

A man is posing his woman companion on the fountain’s edge. Then he snaps her picture. It’s a perfect day for remembering.

And this kind of pleasure is for free.

Dianne Klein’s column appears Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday. Readers may reach Klein by writing to her at The Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, Calif. 92626, or calling (714) 966-7406.