Katie's Blog

The True Confession of an Obit Reader

2012-01-14T15:37:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I read the obits. So what? I bet you do too. I bet everyone over the age of 40 reads them, or younger if you are Italian. I bet you wonder what killed them if it doesn’t say. I do, especially if they are young- or my age. Sometimes you can tell by the charity chosen to donate to. Sometimes it is the Humane Society, so then you’re left to wonder.

I started reading the obits in my 20’s. My mom read them too. She would call me when I lived in San Francisco and she lived in Marin- and ask me to check the San Francisco obits for relatives and friends.

My reasons for reading them now are two-fold. Or so I tell myself anyway. First because I do have a morbid curiosity to know if anyone I know died. Second, I like to critique them. Now the latter sounds bad- but I can’t help it. It has made me somewhat obsessive about my own obit, so I am either going to write it myself- or possibly trust my son to make it a good one. (Depending on how much of a surprise my departure is.)

I am particularly curious about the people that lived to be ninety and their obituary has almost nothing in it. Mind you, I don’t want mine to read every little detail. “Katie was wild as a youth, ran away from home several times, was somewhat promiscuous in her twenties (it was the 70’s people) and drank like a fish until she was in her late thirties.”

No, I don’t want that. (Nick, please note.) But some accomplishments- other than giving birth to an awesome kid- would be nice. And if I died of being hit by a big old bus- then say so- I don’t want my friends and other obit aficionados to wonder how I ended up wherever I end up.

I live where I grew up, so I’m seeing more and more names I know in the obits these days. Most of them I haven’t seen in forty years- so I won’t be running off to their funerals. That would be too Harold and Maude, even for me.

Lately, I’ve found a couple of other good uses for obits. Character names and profiles are a plenty in that section. Of course, I mix and match- but grabbing real careers and names makes very believable characters.

Lastly- reading the obits really reminds me to live like there is no tomorrow. Live passionately and be true to yourself- because it may be a one-trip deal. (As much as I like the thought of reincarnation- just in case- I like to hedge those bets.)

So here is hoping I don’t see your name anytime soon and if you see mine- I hope the following blurb gives you a couple of laughs.

Happy Weekend!

I’m Glad I’m not Voting Today

2012-01-08T20:26:00.000-08:00

I’ve been sitting on my hands for a couple of weeks now- trying so hard to not say anything about the political chaos going on. I just took a walk and tried to think of something else I could write about that might be of interest to someone- anyone.

All week long one sentence kept going through my head though. And this is what it was:

If I were President Obama, I would be dancing a jig right now.

Honestly, I don’t know where I stand in the political turmoil. I’m observing- and sharing my observations with you. I don’t vote party line because I don’t agree with either side 100%. So I vote for the person. I look for someone with the qualities that I find attractive in any human being. Intelligence, compassion, fairness, honesty (forthrightness), and a sense of humor. The later being important in the balance of all things grave and important- you do have to know when to laugh. I apply the same criteria to picking my friends.

I am not interested in religious doctrine when it comes to running this country. I do not care what religion anyone is as long as it does not interfere with affairs of state or as long as they don’t impose their views on me. I remember the controversy surrounding John Kennedy as the first Roman Catholic. He was a “damn Catholic”. I do not recall- and maybe because I was young, but I don’t recall in any history I have read, him ever making decisions based on his religion. It would stand to reason since he was a practicing Catholic, that he was pro-life, which means he couldn’t be elected as a Democrat today. But Pro Life and Pro Choice was not an issue in the 60’s. Illegal abortions were the rage back then. Death by rusty coat hanger was the solution to the problem of pregnancy.

I would like to see us not become involved in any more wars that are none of our business. YES- I know there is a global war on terrorism. (That is like a world war only sneakier) I know our country needs oil or we will become a 3^rd world country in the dark, tuit de’suite. So I am willing to try a little diplomacy. A little psychology.

Many of the world’s leaders are nut jobs. The Arab Spring cleaned up some of it- but there is much more to go. North Korea, Iran and Syria are the most pressing at this moment in time. Many African nations are lurking in the nut trees too. We cannot take our eyes off of any of them. Not for a minute.

I remember when President Obama was running for President and he said, “We're going to change the way we do things in Washington.” (DC). I actually did laugh out loud. I remember saying to whoever was in the room at the time-( maybe it was the dogs-) that he was in for a big surprise.

All candidates from all parties make promises they can’t keep- because all candidates are not privy to all the facts. They think they are- but they are not. And we sure aren’t either.

That was why after President Obama was elected- his plan for getting our butts out of Iraq changed slightly. Then much to the surprise of many, including me, he took an aggressive stance in Afghanistan- (which most American’s had forgotten about) and ramped up the troops. Because he knew more then he did before he was elected. It’s one of the perks of being President.

President Obama inherited a huge mess of a country. Everything was in the fiscal toilet. The housing market was a disaster and we were in or within a minute of being in a recession. I don’t think the President has the power to magically fix the mess he was handed. And I don’t think President Bush was the soul person responsible for the mess either.

The turn around has been painfully slow, but finally this week the economist’s have had some good news for us- and President Obama. Things are starting to go in a positive direction again. That is not why I think President Obama should be doing a jig. No- the reason I think he should be doing a jig is because the GOP has not produced a viable candidate – at least for me. I know a lot of Republican’s that are saying they have not decided yet- or flat out, they don’t like any of them. It will be interesting to watch this race.

And while many of the people that voted for Obama have been disappointed because he didn’t act fast enough, or changed his mind, armed with new information- still I doubt many staunch Democrats will be voting Republican. Maybe- if they are like me- and vote for the man or woman and not the party some Democrats will cross over and visa versa. The political gulf is widening though.

Bipartisan is a dirty word right now. I would personally like to see the politicians grow up and start figuring out where to compromise – because Congress is a joke if they can’t get anything passed- and that alone forces any President to make Executive Orders or *recess confirmations. The founding fathers made sure you could not keep the decisions of the country at a standstill. (*The question of the legality of the appointment will undoubtedly go to court- I am guessing that they will find it legal.)

I’m trying to convince myself my vote matters. I’m trying to figure out if I want health insurance for my preexisting conditions or not. I’m trying to figure out if I will have to live in a world full of bigots and people that think God is only for Christian’s and Americans. I’m trying to figure out what will happen to the fragile economy if we make the wrong decision. I’m trying to figure out how many more troops – how many more mother’s sons or daughters will have to be killed in tribal wars that have gone on since the beginning of time and will likely continue long after we bring our troops home. (Yet I would be willing to go fight for the rights of women in those countries.) I’m trying to figure out if the economy will turn around or will I actually have to work till the day I drop dead. I have no money so I’m not really worried about taxes right now.I am worried about civil rights, gay rights, and human rights.

I have more questions than answers. I want a hybrid candidate. One that offers solutions instead of insults and one that has the capacity to communicate with world leaders with respect where due- and be able to act swiftly, with might when necessary. I want a candidate that will respect the civil rights of Americans and the human rights of Americans and everyone else.

Maybe that is too much to ask of any human being.

See Ya 2011

2011-12-31T17:50:00.000-08:00

It wouldn’t be right if I didn’t say an official adios to 2011. Frankly- I wished I could have back-peddled right out of this year 7 days into it- but I couldn’t. So- Nick and I were left with holes in our hearts, good and bad memories, words unspoken and unfinished business to wear across our shoulders like heavy chains for the rest of the year.

My own personal, physical misfortune paled in comparison and I felt guilty for even complaining about the pain I was in- when Nick’s poor dad would never feel pain or joy again. It wasn’t fair.

It’s never fair. I used to laugh at my sister who has three children and who bent over backwards to make sure they always had the same amount of gifts, the same things if possible. I saw the future of this error before she did. Different sexes, different needs and wants. It would never be fair. It’s such a great thought but a poor lesson- because life in reality- is seldom fair. If we tell our kids to expect that- we are doing them a disservice. Fortunately, her kids figured it out on their own.

But as life does, so marched time and eventually we were able to put one foot in front of the other and live to varying degrees. I try not to live too out-loud anymore- having done a great job of that in my 20’s. But Nick has picked up the living baton and made a dash to the next stage, whatever that is. He is living out-loud- good for him.

I hear about Nick’s work and I know he is a lot like me. He gets the job done-and then some. And if they continue to treat him right he will remain loyal and true. I see bits of his dad too- an incredible work ethic, going to work if he has to crawl. He is no slouch.

My year would have been a lot easier if my dog Noodle hadn’t gotten so ill- but oh he taught me a wonderful lesson. Never give up. Not ever. And with that lesson came a quiet patience I never had before; developed while caring for him- while I was willing him to live and putting syringes of food and water in a mouth that couldn’t open. He reminded me of what was important in the world- not just my little house. Be kind, be generous with your time, love with all your heart and have faith in yourself- and those around you too. He surprised me when he lived and then thrived and now he can eat a crunched up milk-bone. He can open his mouth enough to sustain his own life. He’s not perfect. He’s better than perfect- because he taught me, and all who went through this with me- that adapting is half the battle and heart is the other half. He had real people praying for him- he brought a community of people who didn’t know each other together with their concern for him. Wow- I bet all those politicians wish they knew how to do that.

I’ll remember this year for the rest of my life. It was full of impossible. That I somehow managed to take the Real Estate test and pass was something of a miracle. I had given up studying, my mind too tired to remember any more details after working all day and coming home to take care of dogs and clean- and maybe even write a line or two. But because I had paid for the test I figured what the hell, go take it. No one could have been more surprised than me when I started answering questions that seemed easy. They were all easy. I hope doing some business in 2012 goes as smoothly.

For 2011- I was reminded of what great friends I have made over the years and what a remarkable family I have. We may not talk everyday- but we are all in when the chips are down. How lucky I am to be born into this clan of crazies, and pick up my friends for life along the journey.

Easy years are the ones we never remember. I will remember 2011 until the day I die.

2012 will bring me to my 60^th birthday. I have outlived my three true loves and I can tell you there is a sadness to that I cannot describe.

I have spent the last 26+ years trying to be good mom. Some years I fell short- but I think my overall grade is above average.

My goals for this coming year are simple- but lofty for a sixty year old. But I have seen from last year- if you believe and you have enough heart you can overcome incredible odds. Maybe I can’t change the tide- but I can change how I ride the waves.

Wishing you ALL the very best, safe happy & healthy 2012. Whether you are living out-loud or quietly - live well.

FEAR

2011-11-13T17:07:00.000-08:00

Fear is a horrible thing…unless you’re a writer. Then it’s a catalyst.

I know a bunch of people who are running on fear all the time. Mostly, they are afraid they will be laid off or fired for some unknown broken rule, or because they were late due to the fatal head on collision that happened two minutes before they arrived to the same spot. Or maybe because they were less than subservient to some narcissistic moron who isn’t sure what kind of latte they want, and whose brain is void of anything but the words ME. MY. MINE.

The veiled threat is always there, and that started me thinking - this was how the unions got their start. People were overworked and under paid and if they said anything about it, they quickly lost their jobs or maybe they just disappeared.

Unions leveled the playing field; for a while.

Sometime in the 1820’s the 12 hour work day was changed to a 10 hour work day thanks to the first labor union, then in 1866 the work day was actually cut down to an 8 hour day. Big business was not thrilled as this cut into their bottom line.

Private businesses don’t like Unions. They don’t want their feet held to the fire so their employees can have protection against poor working conditions, unfair wages, fake “management” jobs (so no overtime is paid. ) and let’s not forget health benefits, vacation days and sick leave. Employers say paying people is enough. Well if it is enough people wouldn’t be in the position they are in today.

I actually have paid little attention to the OCCUPY protests across the country, until someone posted something a little disparaging about young people and the movement in general, on facebook and someone else spoke up and said hey wait… we are just looking for a fair shake- not a hand out.

Now I know there are more than a few protestors showing up at OCCUPY because they just want to stir up trouble. I heard of people actually quitting their jobs to go. Well that’s nice but sort of dumb and won’t look good on their resume.

But here is the truth. There has never been a better moment for Unions to make themselves heard or grow their numbers. This is what Unions do, they fight for the underdog.

According to Science Daily The decline in fair wage is directly correlated to the decline in Union membership.

From 1973 to 2007, wage inequality in the private sector increased by more than 40 percent among men, and by about 50 percent among women. In their study, Western and co-author Jake Rosenfeld, a professor of sociology at the University of Washington, examine the effects of union decline on both between-group inequality and within-group inequality. Between-group compares people from different demographics and industries, while within-group looks at people from the same demographics and industries.

Focusing on full-time, private sector workers, Western and Rosenfeld find that deunionization -- the decline in the percentage of the labor force that is unionized -- and educational stratification each explain about 33 percent of the rise in within-group wage inequality among men. Among women, deunionization explains about 20 percent of the increase in wage inequality, whereas education explains more than 40 percent.

Part of the reason for this gender discrepancy is that men have experienced a much larger decline in private sector union membership -- from 34 percent in 1973 to 8 percent in 2007 -- than women (who went from 16 percent to 6 percent during the same period).

"For generations, unions were the core institution advocating for more equitable wage distribution," said Rosenfeld. "Today, when unions -- at least in the private sector -- have largely disappeared, that means that this voice for equity has faded dramatically. People now have very different ideas about what's acceptable in terms of pay distribution."

Interestingly, the study finds that union decline explains little of the rise in between-group inequality.
"Unions standardize wages so that people with similar characteristics -- if they're union members -- tend to have similar wages," Western said. "So, it makes sense that deunionization has little impact on between-group inequality, which, by definition, exists between groups of people that are different."

While the purpose of unions is to standardize wages for their members, Western and Rosenfeld find that even nonunion workers, if they're in highly unionized industries, tend to have fairly equal wages, partly because nonunion employers will raise wages to the union level to discourage unionization.

In terms of policy implications, Western and Rosenfeld think their study could help reignite the dialogue on labor unions, which they believe has disappeared from economic debates in recent years.
"In the early 1970s, unions were important for delivering middle class incomes to working class families, and they enlivened politics by speaking out against inequality," said Western. "These days, there just aren't big institutional actors who are making the case for greater economic equality in America."

While the purpose of unions is to standardize wages for their members, Western and Rosenfeld find that even nonunion workers, if they're in highly unionized industries, tend to have fairly equal wages, partly because nonunion employers will raise wages to the union level to discourage unionization.

In terms of policy implications, Western and Rosenfeld think their study could help reignite the dialogue on labor unions, which they believe has disappeared from economic debates in recent years.

"In the early 1970s, unions were important for delivering middle class incomes to working class families, and they enlivened politics by speaking out against inequality," said Western. "These days, there just aren't big institutional actors who are making the case for greater economic equality in America."

Cited: American Sociological Association (2011, July 26). Union decline accounts for much of the rise in wage inequality, study finds. ScienceDaily. Retrieved November 13, 2011, from http://www.sciencedaily.com¬ /releases/2011/07/110726092151.htm

A union can only be as strong as its numbers. But, big business and many small ones outfoxed people when they convinced them if they left the union they would be taken care of. They convinced them they would pay health benefits, 401K’s and that they would get yearly pay increases. Instead, in many cases all of those things went away and eventually so did the job.

If you are 25 years old and lucky enough to have any job, chances are you are underpaid, and have no benefits. If you are 60 years old and job hunting good luck. No jobs, no benefits, no government hand-outs. You will hear people say things like “You should have been prepared.” “You should have saved for that rainy day.” But maybe this isn’t your first rainy day.

It doesn’t matter anyway. Your savings should not be what you live on. If you are living on it and still working something is wrong.

I have been a member of many unions- some strong, some so weak they’re gone. I was never very pro union, I didn’t understand the history or the insurmountable odds they fought against to help people like you and me get a fair shake.

Fear will make people irrational. Fear will start riots. Fear will make people slip into depression and some will even kill themselves. I did some research on another subject a while back and while reading newspapers from the 1930’s depression era I realized almost every day in every paper some mother or father were killing their children and then themselves out of shear despair. No jobs, no food, no heat. No hope.

I think Unions are in for a come back. I hope they can accomplish some good- without over taxing the business owners. There has to be some balance for everything to work.

Blogging- It's Therapy and More

2011-11-05T19:00:00.000-07:00

I kept a journal when I was 12 and 13 until my mother read it. Then I kept another when I was older until a boyfriend read it. Blogging is not journaling- not for me. I’m not telling my deepest darkest secrets here. Anyway- I have no more secrets left.

When I sat at my dad’s funeral and listened to all the people telling stories about him, I realized I didn’t know him at all. My Uncle Richard and I had a private moment and I asked him. “Who the hell were those people talking about?” I decided then that my son would know me. He would know about my politics, my loves, my hates, my broken hearts, my pride, my joy. He would know me so well that when people told stories at my funeral he would not be caught off guard and would laugh or cry, knowing with absolute certainty the story was true or false.

I bought a journal shortly after the funeral. I wrote in it maybe twice. Writing long hand is just not my thing. My brain works best sitting at a keyboard. It took me six more years to find my best method of communication.

I started blogging in November of 2008. Fortunately, for my reading friends I don’t blog about every little detail that crosses my brain. I blog about things that mean something to me. I still want my son to know who I am- though by now I think he knows me better than anyone else does.

The side effect I wasn’t expecting is that it helps me to think things through. If I write things down perhaps a few stresses will be relieved; if I just give it to the universe- or to you anyway. That was what my very first journal did for me too.

Most of us keep things in pockets. You have this pocket for your son, this pocket for your siblings, this pocket for your Uncle and Grandma and usually a big old pocket for your friends. I only have one pocket and I share all the contents within right here. There are things I will take to my grave, maybe my secrets, maybe yours- they will never end up on my blog.

When I die, my son won’t have to miss me so much. He will be able to pull up my blog and read my ramblings about nothing in particular and he will know I am there. He will laugh at my attempts at humor and he will be proud of my research abilities. Most of all, he’ll be glad his mom was an open book.

I Can't Hear You

2011-10-22T11:40:00.000-07:00

I can’t hear you. I’m sorry because I know how inconvenient this is for you. I see your eyes roll when I say what? Or, Pardon me, can you repeat that please? I feel your annoyance at my inability to hear through walls or over loud music.

Usually by the third time I say I can’t hear you, I am annoyed too. I’m annoyed because though I am the one that is deaf, you are the one that does not listen. Your diction is so poor I don’t even know what language you are speaking. But it doesn’t matter because I can’t hear you.

I can read your lips if you move them. If you take the food or whatever out of your mouth or control your lazy tongue and wrap your lips around your words I can usually make out what you’re saying. Not if you are talking to the floor, to the sky, your computer, your book.

I’m sorry I can’t hear you.

I know how inconvenient this must be for you. My bionic ears merely allow me to hear what is clear and in front of me. I can’t hear you running up behind me so I sometimes scream with fear when you fly past me. I’m sorry that scares you.

If I were blind, would you walk up to me with pretty pictures and say look at this? Maybe you would. It seems like your style.

I’m sorry you have to raise your voice a little and use proper diction when you are speaking to me. It must make your life so difficult- I can’t imagine.

Losses & Gains

2011-10-09T11:12:00.000-07:00

This week started on the wrong foot when Steve Jobs died. I was expecting it- like all of us, but it was a jolt felt around the world anyway.

Steve Jobs actually did affect my life in a profound way. Around 1994 A good friend of Nick’s dad worked at Apple and gave Nick a prototype model computer with a color display. I remember sitting at Nick’s desk at his dad’s house and trying to figure out how things worked when my then 9 -year old son told me I was using the mouse wrong. It was then that I decided to master the Apple computer.

Soon after that incident, I enrolled in Computer Graphic Design school, while still working full time. I would get up at 5AM and not get back home until 10PM Monday through Thursday. I had no computer at home to practice on so I lagged behind most of my class. When finally I couldn’t stand my job any more, I quit and spent all my days and nights at the school. My work improved, and while I would never call myself a great artist, I mastered page layout and some complex Illustrator and Photoshop pieces. It was the beginning of a new life for me.

After graduation, I found work as a production artist. I freelanced for an advertising agency and then created Nika Design, my own company. When business faltered, I sent my resume to one agency and was immediately hired by Ernst & Young to lead the Creative Services Team in San Francisco. That job grew to leading five Bay Area offices and training other managers across the country.

That day I sat at my son’s Apple Computer was a pivotal day for me. Thank you Steve Jobs.

Then, later this week we lost another Giant- or Raider, I should say. Al Davis, owner of the Oakland Raiders died this week too. I met Al in 1978 or 79 when the Oakland Raiders trained at the El Rancho Tropicana in Santa Rosa. I managed the restaurant that year and John Madden, Tom Flores and Al Davis would sit in the same booth every morning at 6AM and discuss their business while their players were shaking off their hangovers from the night before.

Al was a strange guy. He seldom looked at my staff or me, I think because he was preoccupied, not rude. His hotel suite was filled with exercise equipment (I learned from room service) and he only wore jogging suits all training season. I don’t recall him being particularly kind or generous like John Madden and Tom Flores but I do recall his presence. He was impossible to ignore. He led a bunch of wild men into the super bowl and they all, coaches included, wore their rings with pride.

My life was not changed by Al Davis, but the lives of many football players and the game of football itself were changed forever by this freethinking, rebel of a man.

So, here’s to two giants. Two men who followed their passion and their dreams and who both demanded excellence from themselves and the people around them. May they rest in peace.

Finally, I want to say thank God Amanda Knox has been found not guilty and is home in the US today. More than anything I’m appalled by the people here in the US that were so ready to believe every stupid rumor, lie and exaggeration written by the press regarding this case. People without any knowledge of the facts decided Amanda was guilty because some rag of a newspaper said so.

Anyone that had done a modicum of research would have been able to see that this case was a mess from the beginning. It was the kiss with her boyfriend that made her the devil. Did anyone see that kiss? It was three quick pecks, the kind people who care about each other give each other when one or both are upset. It was not a tongue swallowing, passionate, I can’t wait to get you in the sack kiss.

Fortunately, justice prevailed. Unfortunately, some people will stick to their ridiculous convictions and not let the facts get in the way of their messed up thinking. Amanda Knox is going to have to live with stupid people forever- I hope she stays strong.

What's New in the News?

2011-08-07T22:28:00.000-07:00

I haven’t written about current events, local, national and world wide for a few weeks. It’s not that I haven’t had anything to say about them, or even that the news is so depressing no one would want to read what I have to say about it. I have just been chewing on some stuff- trying to formulate my words and reconcile my feelings at the same time.

The political process that took place during the recent debate to solve the financial crisis in the United States was nauseating. The fact that grown men- for the most part- old white men – for the most part, basically had a whose penis is bigger contest- really disgusted me.

I read something someone wrote that this was indeed democracy working. Well let me just say- bullshit. This was not democracy working- not for the people anyway. Of course, I know there are people out there that stood behind their particular old white men- and said- “Yeah! Ours IS bigger” but really- none of them spoke for me.

Principle- is meaningless if it serves no one.

You can say you are sticking to your principles, but if they don’t solve the problems then your principles are meaningless and possibly destructive.

Everyone was waiting for the President to jump in and take over. Guess what? That was not his job. It was the job of congress to solve the problem- the fact that the President had to hold the hand and stroke all the so-called leaders was also disgusting. That was not democracy at work. It was babysitting.

After all that, and the 11th hour solution, they have not solved any immediate problems and the US credit rating was lowered anyway, from AAA to AA+. Nice job guys. And oh yeah- the stock market is crashing.

I won’t be voting for anyone that was part of that debate.

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I’ve been listening to and reading several reports and articles analyzing where the probation department went wrong in the Jaycee Dugard case. A lot of finger pointing has gone on and of course, lack of funding for the department seems to be a huge issue.

I see training as the biggest failure- and that starts at the top level management. From the probation departments’ own video, you can see for yourself how the inspection was cursory at best. I believe, the same as I believe for people going into any kind of law enforcement, you have to have an aptitude for the profession. You have to have an innate sense about people. Spidey sense.

It’s been my experience that if you hire the right people they will surpass any training you may give them and contribute their knowledge to the training curriculum. And people with a natural affinity for certain vocations will require less “classroom” type training and that alone is a money saving option when looking at training and development costs.

I don’t pretend to have the answers. I don’t know any of the probation officers that supervised Phillip Garridos, but I do know that for so many of them to not even be curious about the backyard, especially after neighbors had mentioned seeing kids, is negligent at best- and I bet if you were to ask the family of Jaycee Dugard, they would say it’s criminal.

Very recently, A Marin County Deputy, Jim Mathiesen, was shot to death while off duty and helping a friend who was involved in a domestic dispute. The shooter- Halloran was shot to death at the scene by a third party. Mathiesen, a good officer and by all accounts a fine man- shot to death for trying to help someone.

By Gary Klien, The Marin Independent Journal

“The relationship between Halloran and the woman had recently ended, and the woman asked Mathiesen, a family friend, to come over to provide advice and assistance about death threats coming from Halloran”, Basurto said. Halloran had threatened the woman and her family on Monday evening.

Halloran, who was on active state parole, has a history of arrests in both counties, and was once identified in court documents as a confidential drug informant for the Marin County Major Crimes Task Force

Another failure and it looks like the MCMCTF should have known this train wreck was coming too.

Here is the budget for the California Corrections and Rehabilitation Department – I don’t even see where training and development are included for the Parole Officers though I do know they are trained and go through extensive testing- so what gives? Do they just become complacent once they get the job? Maybe they need to readdress the battery of psychological exams – update them to reflect 21^st century thinking. Clearly- something needs to change.

http://www.cdcr.ca.gov/Budget/Budget_Overview.html

Corrections and Rehabilitation Administration $437,172

Corrections Standards Authority $90,782

Juvenile Operations $251,112

Juvenile Education, Vocations, and Offender Program $38,343

Juvenile Paroles $25,258

Juvenile Healthcare $58,090

Adult Corrections and Rehabilitation Operations – General Security $ 3,360,099

Adult Corrections and Rehabilitation Operations – Overtime $ 105,391

Adult Corrections and Rehabilitation Operations – Inmate Support $ 1,386,034

Adult Corrections and Rehabilitation Operations – Contracted Facilities $ 413,484

Adult Corrections and Rehabilitation Operations – Institution Administration $ 440,552

Parole and Community Services – Adult Supervision $ 478,256

Parole Operations-Adult Hearing $ 274,850

Parole Operations-Adult Administration $ 111,495

Board of Parole Hearings $ 66,984

Board of Parole Hearings – Administration $ 7,300

Education, Vocations and Offender Programs – Adult Education $ 141,101

Education, Vocations and Offender Programs – Contracted Facilities $ 169,739 Education, Vocations and Offender Programs – Inmate Activities $ 65,856

Education, Vocations and Offender Programs – Administration $ 25,110

Correctional Health Care Services $ 2,070,583

Total: $10,017,591

While gathering all this information I noticed the CDCR had a lot of updated information on their site- and that they are trying to address some of the failures that cost an 11-year-old girl 22 years of her life. I plan to keep an eye on things for a while just for my own sense of security. I’ll keep you posted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The most difficult news to absorb was yesterdays notice that the US had lost 31 troops in Afghanistan. As the hours went by more details trickled in and we heard it was Special Forces and then 20 members of SEAL team 6- the team that brought down Osama bin Laden.

In addition to the 31 US troops, seven Afghan troops and one interpreter lost their lives. The Taliban took credit and the US has no reason to believe otherwise.

It’s hard for me to not look at this from a mother’s point of view; mother to a combat veteran. 31 families will be receiving the dreaded knock at the door, letters from the President, whatever personal belongings their loved one had in country and in their numbed state they will make funeral plans, contact family members; try to figure out what the military pays for and what it doesn’t. They will receive visitors bearing casseroles of lasagna and macaroni and cheese; meatloaves, cakes, cookies, and every comfort food known to mankind. The loved ones will take a bite here and there and then cry because their loved one, their son or husband or grandson, will never take a bite of a chocolate chip cookie, or Boston Crème Pie again, that was his favorite they’ll think. He’ll never see his kids grow up and get married, he’ll miss his nephew being born and after all is said and done- the Taliban will still be there.

I read on social websites, many people praying for the families and I certainly said my prayers for the families too. I saw a few people mention it was God's will. Well- if it is God's will-you can keep him. I personally don’t believe God is any part of war. I refuse to believe that he sanctions it in any aspect. I refuse to believe he picks sides and I certainly don’t see that he has come to the aide of any of the war torn Middle East, who by the way- pray a lot more than Americans. While people sit around saying it’s all God’s will- I am thinking- I bet God would like us to fix this mess.

I’m not against praying for anything but prayers alone do not seem to be working. Maybe it’s time to rethink how much the United States can do about the rest of the world and how they choose to live. I hate to think all these deaths, all the sacrifices of life, all the 21 year olds that will never see 22, have been in vain. But in vain they are, if at the end of the day there is no change. We have been in Afghanistan for 10 years now. It’s like painting the Golden Gate Bridge, the job is never done. They clear one area and move to the next, the Taliban moves into wherever the troops are not. The Afghani people are so war weary they will make friends with whoever is offering the best deal- because they have to feed their families. They aren’t really working on higher principles like democracy yet- they are just trying to survive. We would do the same if the war were on US soil.

Democracy or forms of democracy have caught on in Middle East countries that have not been at war for the last 30 years. I think the movement is wonderful and indirectly related to the work our troops have done. Now it seems to me- that Arab nations should take care of each other- and we should come home.

Tonight my thoughts and prayers are with the families of ALL the troops lost in Iraq and Afghanistan. My thoughts and prayers are with the mothers and fathers, wives and children of all people killed in action while trying to help helpless and corrupt countries survive. My thoughts and prayers are with the thousands of wounded, visibly and not, I pray they heal and are able to live full lives. My prayer is for an end to this war.

BRAVERY

2011-08-06T12:22:00.000-07:00

When I lived in Charlotte, a very sick Smokie got into a fight with a raccoon. I was in the kitchen baking cookies when Noodle chased Toshi in the house with growl and a bark that clearly meant “stay”. I followed Noodle outside to see what the fuss was about. Smokie was losing a fight with a raccoon. Noodle took the raccoon from Smokie- shook it till it’s neck broke- then gave it back to Smoke. I had never seen anything like it my life. Noodle was bitten all over his head and snout.

I had never seen him kill a fly- but that day he came to the rescue of his old dog and his new dog all at once. The next day- he was outside with Toshi and a stuffed toy, showing Toshi how to kill. It was amazing to watch, as the little puppy would shake his head back and forth and then Noodle would take the toy and show him again. If he could talk, I imagine he would be saying to Toshi, “You have to do it like this.”

On 5/26/11 Noodle, my 12 year old Chow- Terrier mix, had his necrotic tail amputated and his teeth cleaned (thinking his gum disease was the cause of the necrotic tail). He came home, was on pain pills and antibiotics for two weeks, and seemed fine. About two weeks later, he started having problems eating his food. By 6/25, he could not open his jaw. We started him on antibiotics and pain pills 7/7. By 7/18 still no change, I brought him to the vet- where he was given an injection of antibiotic and more antibiotic and pain pills. On 7/25: he was given a skull x-ray, prednisone, muscle relaxers, and pepcid.

The Dr. went over the x-rays with me and pointed out where she thought it was arthritis. She thought the problem was arthritis and that his jaw had atrophied. She said she was going to look into options for me. Her assistant called me yesterday to tell me that he can have surgery (no guarantees of course) and that it would cost about $5000.00.

So wait-if it is arthritis, what would the surgery be? That was my only question to start with. But I could not get an answer. Here is my email to her-

Hi Dr. Podracka,

Thank you for contacting the surgeon and getting an estimate for the surgery. I understand it would be risky so I really need to be able to explain this to my son. I just have a couple of questions.

1. What would the surgery entail- in other words what would the surgeon be fixing exactly?

2. How long would the recovery time be approx?

3. Would his jaw be wired closed?

4. Mac has very watery eyes now- it looks like he is crying- this is something new- can you tell me what this might mean about his condition?

My son is coming tonight- so if you could reply today that would be very helpful-

Thank you for your time- I appreciate all you have done.

Katie

Nick arrived at my house yesterday before I got home from work and before I received a reply to my email questions. He saw Noodle for the first time since the lockjaw episode. He took one look at him and went into action. He called me for the veterinarians’ phone number and then went over there for Noodle’s records. He did some research and low and behold- he has come to the same conclusion as my sister Angie- that Noodle has tetanus.

Angie has been telling me this for two weeks now-she even called the Dr. and told her what she thought- but the Vet disagreed. I admit-I did some research and didn’t think it was tetanus. However- since then, more symptoms have presented themselves and it is looking more like tetanus. At this point- we owe it to Noodle to at least get him the treatment, which would completely cure him if it is tetanus and not hurt him at all if we are wrong.

Nick found this information in an article: “INCREASED activity of serum creatine phosphokinase (CPK) hasbeen reported recently in patients with tetanus and may be usefulin the diagnosis of this disease.¹ The object of the presentstudy was to identify the tissue source of the elevated serumCPK in tetanus and to determine the mechanism of its releasefrom the tissue.”

Origin of Increased Serum Creatine Phosphokinase in Tetanus An Isoenzyme Analysis

IRWIN A. BRODY, MD; MARTIN A. HATCHER, MD

Arch Neurol. 1967;16(1):89-93.

Noodle’s CPK was 2513 prior to his tail amputation. Normal canine CPK (Creatine phosphokinase) should be 20 – 200.

While tetanus in dogs is rare- it’s not unheard of. The incubation period for tetanus is two weeks. I found a few articles written by people chronicling the symptoms, course of action and recovery of tetanus in their dogs. There is hope. Nick asked the vet to order the appropriate medication. If she won’t- we will find someone who will. Meanwhile I am going to bulk him up with as many calories I can pack into his feeding as possible. (His weight-loss has been significant.)

My sister has been a great support while I have been going through this ordeal and I really appreciate it. She has loaned me her Care Credit dollars to pay for the bulk of the hospitalization and medicine and she has called me every day to see how Noodle and I are doing.

Having my son step in like he did yesterday was great. I am a little “sick dog” weary right now and needed that reinforcement to get me through the next phase. I could feel his decisiveness and his positive forcibility and knew that somehow we would get through this ordeal.

And my Noodle… well he is just the bravest dog I have ever met. He has not complained or whined once. He still tries to play with Toshi, though not being able to open his mouth puts him at a clear disadvantage. He still follows me from room to room and greets me with complete enthusiasm when I come home from work. He really is a very good, very brave, boy.

A link with information regarding tetanus in animals

http://www.marvistavet.com/html/tetanus_in_pets.html

A lot to say today...

2011-07-31T20:29:00.000-07:00

There is so much I wanted to write about this week that I hardly know where to start.

My Sunshine

My son, my sunshine, just got a good job in the corporate world. Having worked in that world, I am scared for him- oh not like I was scared for his life when he was in Iraq- more like scared for his soul. Those corporate jobs will eat you up and spit you out. The survivors and the people that thrive in that arena have to be able to outfox everyone. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t placate the right people- I was a born rebel- a maverick- a teller of truth no matter what the consequence. I still am.

He should be okay though. I know that military training; that special brand only the US Marines dish out will serve him well and the two years stationed at Annapolis, where diplomacy was essential even though they had authority to shoot and kill gatecrashers- that training will be especially useful.

And this is not very parental, but I hope he doesn’t lose his little craziness to the big old corporate monster. I like that part of him.

My friend Renee sent me a message this week that a friend of her son’s was missing in Sonoma County. Now I have to say, I usually keep an open mind about these things. I have known more than a few women who have actually run away from the husband and kids for a weekend without as much as a phone call just for the sake of sanity. But my instinct told me this was not the case here. I posted the missing woman’s picture on my facebook page and so did several of my friends and Renee’s friends too.

We had coast to coast coverage and a post from Renee’s son Dominic stating only “it does not look good” that made me think I don’t care if I repeat myself every week- or every day. I don’t care if you are 4 or 104. You really need to be careful and pay attention to your surroundings.

It turned out better than I thought it would, the woman was found, in a hospital, after being kidnapped and held for two days. I don’t know the details, and I don’t need to- here is what we need to know. She will be okay. She did not die. She was not paying attention to her surroundings.

I sleep with a lethal weapon – no not my dogs- although good money would bet on Toshi to go for a throat. I have a combat knife (I won’t say exactly where I keep it), which belongs to my son, that I know would easily kill a 200 pound man. I never liked knives, but honestly, I have never heard of anyone accidently stabbing them self to death- whereas you can’t say the same about guns. Could I actually stab someone up to the hilt of that knife? Yes.

Here are some basic safety guidelines to keep in mind: (Taken from the Humble Police DEPT.. Humble TX.)

Strategies for Avoiding Sexual Assault

Assertive Behavior:
Awareness and assertive behavior may be your best defense against becoming an "easy victim."

Walk confidently, directly and at a steady pace.

Real anger instead of fear may not be expected by a would-be attacker and may throw him off-guard.

If approached by someone you sense to be a potential threat, try to stay out of his reach.

Report suspicious or criminal activity to the police immediately.

If you feel you are in danger of being attacked- try to escape the situation by running away from it if you can.

Head for a well-lighted place where you think there will be other people who may be able to help you.

Try in any way you can to attract attention to yourself. Scream. "CALL 911!"

Take a self-defense course.

Trust your instincts. If a person, place or situation makes you uneasy, leave or change it immediately.

Use common sense. If it seems risky, it probably is.

Safety Tips

At Home:
Have good locks (dead-bolts are best) installed on all doors and windows and be sure to use them.

Be sure you know who you are opening your door to. If a sales or repair person is legitimate, they will not mind your asking to see their identification and confirming their identity with the company they represent.

If a stranger comes to your door requesting assistance (e.g. to make a phone call, car trouble, etc.) offer to call the necessary people for him. Do not make yourself vulnerable by opening your door to a stranger, especially if you live by yourself or are at home alone!

For women who live by themselves, never advertise by listing your full name in the phone book or on your mailbox. Use instead your first two initials, or even add another name.

Be cautious about revealing any personal information over the phone.

Draw your curtains or shut your blinds at night so people on the outside cannot determine who is in the residence.

Do not hide a spare key in obvious places such as under the mat, in a potted plant, or the door sill, etc... Know your neighbors.

In Your Car:
Always be sure to lock your car doors, whether or not you are in the car. Always check the floor and rear seat before getting into your car.

When returning to your car, make sure your keys are in your hand, ready to unlock the door and turn on the ignition. They can also be used as a weapon, should that become necessary.

If you suspect that you are being followed while driving, keep on going -- do not stop and pullover until you get to a place that is well-lit and where there are other people to assist you. If practical, drive to the nearest police station and tell them you are being followed.

Avoid parking lots and gas stations that are poorly lit.

Do not pick up hitchhikers nor accept rides from strangers, particularly men.

If your car should break down, or you are in a fender bender, raise the hood and remain in the car with the doors locked until the police arrive. If someone should stop and offer to assist you, roll down the window just enough to tell them they can be most helpful by calling the police for you.

Keep your car well-serviced, with good tires and plenty of gas. This will greatly reduce your chances of being disabled on the side of the road.

On the Street:
When walking alone, act self-assured and confident that you know where you are going.

Walk on the traffic side of sidewalks, not close to alleyways or bushes.

If you suspect that someone is following you, cross the street or walk quickly to a well-lit, well-populated location.

Wear sensible clothing and shoes which allow you to maneuver or run.

Don't load yourself down with packages, bags, books, etc... You will appear vulnerable for attack.

Stay alert and aware. Turn around and look at whoever may be behind you.

If you walk or jog for exercise, try to vary your route or time on the street. Predictable behavior is risky.

If You are Raped:
Go to a friend's house or another safe place where you can get emotional support.

Go to the nearest hospital. DO NOT douche, bathe, shower, eat, drink or change clothes before you go.

Report the rape to authorities (this does not mean you must proceed with prosecution).

Seek counseling. Even if you don't report the rape or press charges, you should contact your nearest rape crisis center for information about counseling. Their services are free and confidential.

Know that it is not your fault. You did not do anything to cause it and you are not to blame.

If you are raped and you live in Marin call: Rape Crisis Center of Marin

800-670-RAPE
800-670-7273
(24 hours)

Noodle in better days

I’m really sad to report my Noodle still can’t open his mouth. Tomorrow he is going for an x-ray. He is still eating via syringe- he has lost a lot of weight, even though I am feeding him at least ¾ of a can of food twice a day.

I chop up his pills and grind them to a fine dust that I mix with a little food and put in his syringe. Most of the time I think he gets all of it but sometimes it dribbles back out and is lost. He has been on antibiotics for 3 weeks, pains pills for 3 weeks, muscle relaxers and steroids for a week now. Every day I tell myself he could wake up and be better in the morning- but so far he is the same. A sweeter dog never lived. I wish I knew what to do for him.

I had an old friend in town that wanted to see me this weekend. Someone I really haven’t seen for 35 or so years and whose life and mine have gone in fairly separate directions. But I was not willing to leave my dog to fit his schedule- my dog, who has never left my side in 10+ years. These dogs, my boys, have been my constant companions for so long, through so many things-so many hard times, losing them (last year Smokie) is beyond horrible. I’ve been teary all weekend, trying to keep busy cleaning or writing, but I keep tearing up when I think of my little Noodle. These dogs have made me a better person.

My Boys

So that’s it for this week. So much, I needed to share it- purge it. Sometimes I think I am cruising and not letting life touch me- then I realize I’m just so used to it I don’t really feel it all the time. I’m feeling it this week- so thanks for reading.

Creeping Democracy

2011-07-17T13:44:00.000-07:00

Perhaps, I am connecting dots that aren’t there, but lately I’ve been thinking about the rise of democracy or semblance thereof, in the Middle East and Arab countries and wondering if maybe- just maybe, the small acts of kindness many of our troops have made towards the predominantly Muslim people in countries we have been at war - have actually had some impact on a world-wide basis.

It could be a mother’s wishful thinking. It could be that I would like to be able to say to my son- See? Look what you started when you asked me to send you medicine for the Iraqi kids. Look what happened when you helped the tribal, western Iraqi’s living on the Syrian border get rid of the gun smugglers and al qaeda thugs? And see? Candy and stuffed animals were a good idea too.

Maybe it’s not such a stretch though.

Here is an excerpt from an article written about Nick’s unit (3/4) and company (Kilo) in 2006.

Story by Cpl. Michael S. Cifuentes, Combat Correspondent
3rd Battalion, 4th Marine Regiment
http://www.marine-corps-news.com/2006/11/western_anbars_senior_marine_c.htm

Col. William B. Crowe and Sgt. Maj. Jimmy D. Mashburn spent Thanksgiving Day visiting the Marines of the southern Calif.-based 3rd Battalion, 4th Marine Regiment, who are based in outposts in the northwest region of Al Anbar Province, Iraq.

They’re foremost message was simply "thank you for what you are doing for this region."

"I know it’s tough being away from your homes and families" said Mashburn to a group of Marines with 3/4. "But, you are doing an outstanding job here and we’re watching you from afar in Al Asad.

RCT-7 is the Coalition Forces unit responsible for providing security to more than 30,000 square miles in western Anbar, stretching from the Syrian and Jordan borders, east to the Euphrates River.

The sergeant major and colonel are based at the regimental headquarters in Al Asad. 3rd Battalion is one of RCT-7’s subordinate units in western Al Anbar Province.

The battalion is three months into a seven month Iraq deployment. They are tasked with patrolling the streets of the many cities that lie along this Euphrates River region, just miles east of the Iraq-Syria border. The Marines here face threats such as small-arms fire and improvised explosive devices (IEDs) every day while operating in the region.

The battalion also works with Iraqi soldiers and police, mentoring them so Iraqi Security Forces can eventually provide security to their own country.

"It’s good to see Marines with aggression and control," said Mashburn. "You are allowing the Iraqi citizens to taste freedom more and more, and at the same time, keeping them safe from the insurgency."

Since ¾’s arrival here in September, the Marines have successfully disarmed IEDs, captured wanted individuals and found weapons caches in their area of operation.

"‘No better friend, no worse enemy" holds true with [you all]," said Mashburn, quoting the 1st Marine Division"s motto.

Along with securing the streets from adversaries, the Marines here have built a good rapport with its civilians. Husaybah, a city that borders Syria and was the setting of Operation Steel Curtain - a 2005 operation which pitted U.S. Marines and local Iraqi tribesmen against hundreds of insurgents - now hosts a flow of business in its market street, clear of insurgent activity.

"If we can maintain security of their streets, we will have their [local populaces] support," said Cpl. Carl G. Williams, a squad leader with the battalion’s Kilo Company. "They want the insurgency out just as much as we do, so our relationship with them is more of a ‘business" relationship."

The Good Guys

I met Col. Crowe at homecoming and spoke to him and his wife while we were excitedly waiting for the buses of Marines coming home from Iraq, after what turned into an 8 month, not 7-month deployment. He reiterated to me the incredible job the ¾ did, making headway with the locals and securing what was once known as the wild west.

Since they were so close to Syria, maybe it’s not so far fetched to think that word could travel from one positively affected person to another. My son told me in Husaybah, there were people who intermarried with Syrian citizens, so I know word could spread family to family. It would take a while, with no facebook or cell phones at hand. But it’s been almost five years since this article was written- more than enough time to spread the word.

I think what we have to remember is- that our brand of democracy may not work for them. But if they manage to shift some thinking and attain some understanding of human rights, maybe some middle ground will be okay for them.

Our country may have been founded on Christian doctrine, but their countries were not. In civilizations as old as these, I don’t think we can expect thinking to change drastically in 10 years or even 20. We can all see a chink in the fragile glass though. I would really like to think that US troops (in spite of Abu Ghraib which set us back at least two years) made a difference- and that all of the families who have sacrificed loved one’s, and all the troops who have sacrificed body parts and mental health, can look back on this time and see that what they did has made a difference and will continue to make a difference as long as the US supports freedom with the right mix of “aggression and control.”

Afghanistan will be a harder nut to crack. It faces warring tribes, corrupt government, and distrust of everyone, a strong Taliban influence and a wavering American ally, more than ready to leave the poppy fields and come home. The recent assassination of Karzai’s corrupt brother spoke volumes if we were listening. Afghanistan is a war torn country whose opium trade is 1/3 of it’s GDP and no one is really ready to give up that source of income. According to a report by the CIA only about 28 percent of Afghans over age 15 can read and write, so training them to take care of their own country will be at the very least- slow and challenging.

If the same tactics are applied to Afghanistan, that were applied to Iraq, I think there will be hope that someday there will be a meeting of the minds. People will agree to disagree and find common ground. But I think it’s a long way off.

Maybe it’s the mother coming out of me to be hopeful. Maybe not. I’d like to think that I base my ideas on more than emotions and wishes. Maybe we will never know if the cases of Children’s Tylenol made a difference in that country- I know it made a difference in how I looked at my son when in the middle of the war- he worried about someone else more than he worried about himself.

Sidetracked

2011-07-14T21:32:00.000-07:00

I feel like the Roadrunner who has taken a detour drawn by Wile E. Coyote, off a big old cliff. I landed flat, picked myself up, and started going 100 MPH all over again.

I’m constantly taking detours. Daily, weekly, yearly… life long detours. And yes I do realize that is what life is about- the journey, the trip, the bumps in the road and all that.

I refrain from New Year’s resolutions because I know I will break them- but this last new year I actually had set some goals for myself. By January 7^th- the day Nicks dad died-so shockingly young, I knew things would not go as planned. Then in February frozen shoulder- literally my shoulder froze and it was extremely painful- knocked the sassy crap out of me. No one-liners, no jokes, no writing, no real estate studies, no gym, no dog walks, just pain medication and leftover tears from January. My roots grew out, my face found some more lines, my energy waned and I gained even more weight.

Those that know me- know I am always a little grouchy. I’m dissatisfied with the world the way it is. I think we can do better. I know I can do better. I see so many things that I would change if I could- but then I always get sidetracked- like I have ADD- which I do, but I thought I managed it better than this.

While my life was between standstill and broken, I read the news and scoured the internet for information on various subjects. I read numerous books and if nothing else fed my brain with better literature. (as opposed to drug store novels).

I managed to work through the complex and often annoying heath care system for people with no insurance. I paid 185.00 a visit for several visits until they actually referred me to a specialist that was able to give me a shot of cortisone. It was a 5-month ordeal. I realized later- I could have probably gotten on the phone, made a few calls and made an appointment with any Ortho, paid my cash and probably would have saved myself about 800.00. Aside from the out of pocket cash, I glimpsed the frustration my son must feel when he goes to the VA. Only I just had frozen shoulder. I can’t really imagine how the veterans with real health and/or mental issues navigate that system.

The beginning of last month I decided I need to finish a couple of things and get some stuff off my over-flowing plate. So far… I have been sidetracked a few times with things more important than my immediate plans. That’s okay, I tell myself. I don’t know anyone better than me at starting over, picking up where I left off and just writing a whole new playbook.

One of these days I will take the RE exam. I’ll finish any of the three novels I have started, and start any one of the three non-fictions in notebooks and my head. I will get my office cleaned, I will get to the gym and I will lose weight.

Really- all I need is for my family and friends to be okay. I need my son to be happy, healthy and safe- and my nieces and nephews to be happy, healthy and safe. I need my siblings to be okay and get old with me- and I really need my friends to do the same. Everything else is extra.

So if you see me running 100 MPH on a fake road- off a cliff- don’t worry- I’ll be back as fast as you can say Wile E. Coyote.

Breaking Up is Hard to Do... Sometimes

2011-06-18T19:30:00.000-07:00

Part 3 of Auntie Katie's Free Advise

I’m skipping ahead to break-ups before we even get into the whole relationship conversation, because, well, they usually come sooner than we are expecting them – and whether initiated by you or them- you should be prepared.

There are a million different reasons why people break up with each other. Since we are talking about going “out” here and not marriage, I’ll only cover some of them. (We’ll get to marriages later.)

First, I should tell you that sometimes there is no reason. It’s more like you should have never gotten together in the first place. It’s like writing the wrong thing on the chalk board- then trying to erase it, but part of it still shows through. You can’t really undo anything in life. (Another reason to choose wisely.) But clean the chalk board best you can and move on.

Breaking up usually has a few emotions involved. First, you are hurt or shocked (if someone else is doing the dumping) then you are sad for a while then you are mad. I personally always found mad to be better than sad. Sad is: you mope around, sleep too much, eat too much ice cream. Mad: You get a new hairstyle, lose a few pounds, start running, play some sports , hang out with your buddies again and possibly clean your room – maybe even your closet too. Mad is more productive.

The writing is on the wall.

Usually, there are some signs of things to come. If you have been together more than a week, there is a pattern of communication. He or she calls you everyday, you call him /her everyday, you text constantly, you go to a movie, dinner, a ball game- whatever. When there is a variance in the pattern, you should pay attention.

I wouldn’t worry too much about things being off one day, or even two- but if it is off three days in a row, something is up. (Auntie Katie could be wrong- but it’s rare.) Now the variety of reasons this starts to happen are too many to go into here. I’ll name a few top ones though.

They realized you don’t have enough in common.
They actually like someone else.
They heard you like someone else.
They think you didn’t pay enough attention to them.
They thought you needed more attention then they could give you.

If you or they are on the younger side, it could be that you or they are just not ready for this kind of relationship. Don’t worry, you’ll get there.

Reasons I think you should break up immediately. Let me just say here- this is my opinion. You don’t have to agree with me- but I’m right.

They physically hurt you.
They cheated on you with your best friend.
They kicked or otherwise abused your pet.
They are into drugs, drinking or any illegal activities.
They are needy to point of aggravation.

I can tell you right off the bat if any of these things are an issue you will be breaking up sooner or later and you – YOU should make it sooner.

Most of the time, after a break up, when the dust settles, you can still be friends. Occasionally, you have to cut all ties.

NEVER be a victim. Never let anyone manipulate you into doing anything you don’t want to do, anything illegal, dangerous or otherwise stupid. If someone is trying to control you, DUMP THEM.

If they don’t want you hanging out with your friends: DUMP THEM.

If they say bad things about your family: DUMP THEM.

There are plenty of nice people out there. But don’t forget, it’s okay to be by yourself too. If you can learn to be happy with yourself, by yourself, then you will be much more secure in your relationships.

Next week we’ll look a little closer at going “out” and what that is all about and expectations and how to manage them.

Auntie Katie's Free Advise Part 2

2011-06-11T18:31:00.000-07:00

Part II

Embarrassing Moments: To Pee or Not to Pee.

As you start out in the “dating” world and by that, I mean hanging out with the opposite sex, you may find yourself in some embarrassing situations. Hopefully, none of you are as socially backwards as I was and you will not find yourself holding your pee for 12 hours because you are too embarrassed to go when the boyfriend/girlfriend is there.

I doubt boys have this problem and actually doubt if many girls do- but I sure did. Everything embarrassed me. I hated my teeth so I tried not to smile. (Apparently, I smiled anyway because people tell me they remember my laughing and smiling as a teen- I think they have faulty memories.) If anyone mentioned my teeth were crooked- I turned beet red and died right there. If anyone mentioned the zit on my face- or even dared to look at it I would be mortified. I usually stayed home from school because of zits.

I once went out with a boy who decided to take me to China Town for a late night bite. We went to some downstairs off the beaten track kind of place that was real Chinese food. He ordered for us. Up until that evening, the only Chinese I had ever eaten was Sweet & Sour Pork and Fried Rice. Our soup comes and I take a big spoon full- and IMMEDIATELY spit it out and exclaimed, “I could feel the testicles.” Well he burst out laughing and told me the word was tentacles. Then he told me what testicles were. I was very embarrassed. Still, I think, anything with testicles or tentacles, should not be in your soup.

Another time I was out to lunch with someone and read the menu... Hors d'œuvre. I read it aloud pronouncing that H. Horsedevores. He laughed too. I died. Somehow, I lived through these moments and got a little smarter. I stopped eating anything I couldn’t say or didn’t know what the word meant and eventually learned to ask questions like : How do you say this word?

I have more embarrassing moments – but I think you get the drift. We do live through these things and outgrow most of them. Half the battle is learning to laugh at yourself. I didn’t do that when I was really young but I eventually learned that things are pretty funny if you loosen up a little.

So my advise for embarrassing moments? Laugh it off. Try not to be so self -conscious, and for God’s sake- go pee if you have to go pee.

Auntie Katie's Free Advise

2011-06-06T21:19:00.000-07:00

If you are one of my older blog readers- you might want to pass this on to anyone just starting out in the teen years.

Here are some things everyone should know when they start dating, having boyfriends or girlfriends and everything that goes along with that completely new world.

If you think my advice doesn’t pertain to your situation- file it for later- it probably will.

Part I

That first kiss…

My first kiss was horrible. He smashed my face and hit his teeth on my teeth. It was as they say, “the kiss of death”, since it was also my last kiss from that boy. It was my last kiss from him not because it was a horrible kiss, which it was, but because I was too embarrassed to look at him afterwards. He gave me his ring that night at a school dance and I gave it back to him, via his sister the following Monday. I was in 6^th grade and too young.

Six months later, I kissed another boy and it was much nicer, softer – almost professional in my thinking. (I’m sure he did not say the same for me). Unfortunately, he was quite a bit older than me and had no intention of making me his girlfriend. Lesson learned there: If they won’t be seen in public with you dump them.

Maybe some people think a kiss is not important-but it is. It’s the kiss, that connects you the first time. It’s the kiss, that (if you are paying attention) will tell you how they feel: if they are sad, happy, preoccupied or even cheating on you- you’ll know from that kiss if you let yourself. (More on letting yourself know things later)

If your first kiss is also their first kiss, then you can learn together. All I can tell you is it should not hurt, or break your teeth. It should not be slobbery like a St. Bernard drooling all over you. It should be like kissing a big soft pillow. Their breath should be nice and since they are being up close and personal, they should smell clean. (If your first kiss takes place in a sewer and everyone smells bad, you have much bigger problems than kissing.)

Remember: Don’t ever do anything you don’t want to do. And if you can’t both discuss it first, honestly and intellectually then you are not ready.

Okay- so once you are passed the whole first kiss thing- you actually move on to real relationships. Boyfriend – girlfriend stuff.

Number one rule: for both sexes, all ages and even if you are married… do not drop all your friends. This is the biggest mistake people make when they are in a relationship. Sometimes it happens because you are insecure and think you have to spend a million hours a week with someone and sometimes it happens because they are insecure and they think you should spend a million hours a week with them. In any case, it is one of worst things you can do in a relationship. (And we all do it at least once.)

Make sure he/she has some friends: If the person you like has no friends and they are not new to the area- that is a red flag. It means they are either in the Witness Protection Program, or, they are too selfish to be a friend, or, they are a sociopath. Oh sure- every now and then you may find a real loner- but trust me – people with no friends are a problem.

Make sure he/she has a hobby (other than you). You don’t have to share the hobby- and maybe it’s better if you don’t- though you will want to refrain from insulting their hobby if you hate it.

It’s all about balance. Here are some bad combinations

Caveman/ Professor of English

Social Consciousness /Oil Tycoon

Dudley Do-Right/ Holly the Hooker

You can usually spot a mistake the minute you see it- but for some reason- unknown to all of us with a brain- we ignore it.

Listen to me. If you get a feeling that someone is not right for you. YOU ARE PROBABLY RIGHT. Don’t give up two years of your life (or 15 minutes) trying to make something work- that was never going to work. It’s OKAY to be alone once in a while.

The number one quality you should look for in a human being is that they are a good human being. And that does not mean they would be good if … that means in spite of everything, all the hard knocks, all the bad hands dealt- they are stand up people and do the right thing no matter what. They are good friends, good fathers, good mothers, good sons, daughters, nieces, and nephews. If it turns out that they are not a good boyfriend /girlfriend for you- chances are, if they are good people to start with that you will remain friends for life.

Be your own person. Don’t change for anyone. If you need to change... do it for yourself.

Look for Part II soon

I'm Watching You

2011-06-05T14:49:00.000-07:00

About 27 years ago, when I was nearly three months pregnant with Nick, and living in upper North Beach at very top of Chestnut St. I decided to take my laundry to the Laundromat on Stockton Street where they would wash and fold for me. I loaded up my little cart, put my boyfriend’s sweats and a baggy T-shirt on, my hair in a ponytail and marched out my front door. I wasn’t showing yet- but my waist felt thick and the only clothes I felt comfortable in were baggy, too big for me clothes.

I noticed it was getting a little more difficult to walk the San Francisco hills I had been walking up and down for years. Hormones zapping my strength, increased blood volume, and a Dr.’s order to bed-rest zapping my muscle tone, made me just a little slower. My slowness would not have been noticeable to anyone but me and a few people who knew I was a power walker.

After I dropped off my laundry and cart, my legs felt like rubber and I thought to myself I better get home and lie down. I was not used to being so weak and was not fond of the dizzy, lightheaded feeling I had.

About three buildings in front of me, I saw a car pull into a driveway. It was a station wagon with blacked out windows. The driver got out of the car and with his drivers side door open he leaned over to look under his car.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up. My stomach turned- as if a baby the size of a pea could do somersaults and I would notice.

His car blocked the sidewalk, and when I reached the spot where he was parked he said. “Excuse me, can you help me for a minute?”

I said no, and made a wider circle into the street. He then went on to explain why he needed my help it was because he thought he had a mechanical problem, and I knew. Alarms went off- I knew with every cell in my body he was bad and wanted to hurt me. As he started to get up I realized I was in trouble and somehow or another I was able to muster the walk that was almost a run. I booked. He got into his car and continued down Stockton Street towards the wharf. I had turned on Chestnut and hid in a doorway until I was sure he was gone. I made my way back up the hill and to my bed. I called the police and reported him because I was positive- that he was going to find someone that would get in that car with him. The police took my information over the phone but they never followed up so I’m not sure if they took my intuition seriously or not. But, I knew then and I know now- 27 years later- he would have killed me.

Last week I was walking my Shiba Inu on one of the back streets in the Indian Valley area. As a safety precaution, I always bring my phone on dog walks- even if it’s just around the block. As we walked by a school and park, I noticed a car that had driven up and down the block about four times. He kept watching the park- the track- specifically where a couple of girls were running. I could feel him watching me too, and at one point I turned around to look right at him but he was too far away for me to see his face. He was driving a white Acura or Mercedes, I'm not sure which. I kept watching him and the girls until I saw the girls take off to the opposite end of the park to a short cut to another street. He started driving again, passed me again and then turned around and came upon a girl walking her dog. He stopped and rolled down his window but I was too far and too deaf to hear anything- but I decided to take a picture of his car. I waited until he left. I’m not sure if he saw me in his rear view- or if he knew I took a picture of his car- and I didn’t care. I just wanted him to go away.

Since nothing really happened- I couldn’t call the police. He could have been asking that young lady for directions. Maybe. But my gut tells me different. If anyone goes missing in the area- I will turn in the photo- you can’t see much- but maybe it would help.

A few years ago I blogged about missing children http://katiewigingtonwrites.blogspot.com/2008/12/what-can-we-do-to-help.html – in it I mentioned Jaycee Dugard who was still missing at the time. The fact that she was found alive is amazing and hopeful- and I that was correct in my assessment of the investigation-depressing. We have too few detectives working these cases and their resources are becoming slim to none. We need some old-fashioned hound dogs with superior instincts not bachelors degrees with no spidey sense and no time served.

We- the public, really have to be vigilant and keep our eyes open. How some people can go through this life with blinders on, I’ll never know.

While I am out walking or driving, I am paying attention. I might even be looking for trouble- but that’s okay. I’ll sleep a lot better knowing I at least try to do something about all these kids disappearing and/or getting killed.

Pay attention to where you are and who is around you. If you think you see something “off” then chances are you are right- make a mental note- or take a picture with your phone, and if you think you should call the police CALL THE POLICE.

For more information go to this website. The National Center for Missing and Exploited Children

http://www.missingkids.com/missingkids/servlet/PublicHomeServlet?LanguageCountry=en_US&

Or the Polly Klaus Foundation

http://www.pollyklaas.org/

And if you are one of the predators in my neighborhood... then you should know... I'm watching you.

Farthest car on right side of the street is the car I saw last week

Honored Everyday

2011-05-30T09:09:00.000-07:00

It always seems in bad taste to say Happy Memorial Day.

Memorial Day is supposed to be the day we honor those who have sacrificed their lives while defending their country. It dates back to 1868 when General John Logan proclaimed in General Order 11 http://www.usmemorialday.org/order11.html

“The 30th day of May, 1868, is designated for the purpose of strewing with flowers or otherwise decorating the graves of comrades who died in defense of their country during the late rebellion, and whose bodies now lie in almost every city, village, and hamlet church-yard in the land. In this observance no form of ceremony is prescribed, but posts and comrades will in their own way arrange such fitting services and testimonials of respect as circumstances may permit.”

I used to think Memorial Day was about everyone who died. I would take flowers and flags to the graves of all my relatives- sometimes spending two days driving around Northern California and walking through cemeteries, thinking of the lives that once were.

Often, my son would accompany me. We would read different headstones and wonder about all the people in their graves. Once when we were looking for my great- grandmother’s grave we happened upon a part of the cemetery that started being used in 1885. Their graves had been forgotten, overgrown with weeds and I’m sure forgotten by ancestors. Their headstones were weathered and hard to read but we stopped at many of them anyway. So many of them were children and young adults, too young to be there. That part of the cemetery had an eerie feeling- a lot of sadness.

My son would also perform this ritual with his father- visiting Japanese cemeteries. He noted once that the Japanese didn’t seem to forget their loved ones buried for eternity- like we do. I think he was glad I never forgot my relatives.

After my son joined the Marine Corps- I realized exactly what Memorial Day was. It’s to honor those who have given their life to defend our great Nation. It’s not really about Veteran’s and loved ones. Only after he became a Marine did I educate myself about all things war; all things great and horrible at once.

When Nick was stationed at Annapolis, he participated in the Flag-In ceremony at Arlington. He said it was an honor- and very moving to put a flag in the grave and salute to every single man and woman buried there.

Now, I don’t understand why these people are not honored everyday- by all of us. I think it’s okay to have your picnic and parade, spend the day on your boat, hiking in the mountains, cemetery hopping if you will… but we should not forget the people that allow us these freedoms. Give them a moment at least- or better yet- wake up everyday grateful to the people that serve our country. Say thanks while they are alive.

Surely, the relatives of all the people who have died in wars don’t only remember them on Memorial Day.

Today- I am going to bring flowers to my Dad’s grave in Santa Rosa. He did not die defending his country- but he lived defending it. A WW2 veteran, a policeman, and then civil servant until his death. He did more than his share.

Everyday- I will honor those who have sacrificed their lives so I may live mine in freedom. It’s not that hard really. You do it by trying to do the right thing by everyone, by not being selfish and worrying about only yourself, by looking at the bigger picture and not focusing on what’s wrong but how you can fix it. You do it by being generous of spirit, forthright and genuine.

Have a thoughtful Memorial Day everyone.

The Older I Get...

2011-05-22T16:03:00.000-07:00

The older I get, the less I understand life. The list of things I don’t get is growing and try as I do to understand what makes people tick, what makes people make the choices they do, I just can’t figure it out. I spend a lot of time shaking my head back and forth and opening my mouth in jaw dropping moments, completely baffled about how gullible or sometimes just plain stupid or completely off the charts crazy people are.

For instance: I don’t understand why people who are unhappily married stay together. Half the time, I don’t understand how these same people ever got together in the first place. From the outside looking in I usually see the train wreck coming – though sometimes it’s actually years away. I know: The kids, the money, too late to start over…I know all that- but it does not make sense to me. Life is just too short for misery that we can control.

I once had a boyfriend who I loved so much it drove me crazy (granted a it was a short drive). Together, like rabbits trapped in a cage, we bred insanity. Looking back, I can see how our friends and family saw us. Our on again off again relationship lasted more than a decade, sometimes secretly, in between and during others. I’m not sure what finally ended it. Just weariness I guess. Well -that and no booze.

During that crazy relationship- on one of our splits, I went to stay with my mom, while I waited for my brother to come from Escondido and bring me back home with him while I recuperated from this particular broken heart. I was watching the television with my mom when the news cut in to the local program to tell the world about the Jim Jones Massacre. I wondered then, how so many people could follow a man who was clearly insane. As I sat there, crying, thinking my world was coming to an end and wondering how I would be able to live without my Jim K.- the real end came for 918 people and something in me shifted. I remember journaling my feelings of despair, helplessness and confusion. Religion, I deduced- was the culprit. It was mass mental illness. My mother agreed.

Thirty-three years later… and people are still following crazy preachers. I watched with disdain and disgust as last week people actually prepared for the so-called “Rapture”. I read about one man who drove 3000 miles across the country to come to the Bay Area for the Rapture… and people who gave away their lives savings, quit their jobs, gave away all their belongings- and they have no recourse. They can’t sue this nut- they got suckered. They had faith.

Harold Camping, the nut that started this whole mess, and who has supposedly studied the Bible for more than 50 years, believed that on May 21, 2011, 6PM-ish, a massive earthquake would’ve hit New Zealand and from there continued quaking around the world during the next 24 hours until May 21 is reached on both time zones. At the end of this 24-hour period, Harold Camping said believers would go to heaven and the rest (of us sane people) would be left on earth to face final judgment before the earth is destroyed.

Remember the other nut? What was his crazy name? Do? (pronounced Doe) (I always want to say Bambi) Marshall Applewhite. He had followers too- they are all dead now. His was a UFO religion. They didn’t consider it suicide, they just called it leaving the earth so their souls could get on the spaceship to “another level of existence.” They had faith.

I found a whole list of crazy religious movements- check this out.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_new_religious_movements

I do understand there is religion without mass mental illness. I understand faith- but prefer irrefutable facts and science. I like proof. I research and research to make sure things make sense.

Okay- so back to why people stay together when they are clearly better off apart. Is it mental illness? Fear of the unknown? Laziness? Apathy? Is it fear of failure or the perception thereof? Is it FAITH that things will change? I’m still wondering. But, if any of you have the answers- please feel free to explain. Just bring the proof.

Looking for Answers

2011-01-29T20:09:00.000-08:00

When things don’t make sense most of us try to seek answers. The way in which we seek these answers varies. Some people turn to drink or drugs- others to God and church and just about everything in between.

I started studying astrology books when I was about 14, then psychology; occasionally I reverted to my Catholic upbringing, seeking answers in a book I didn’t understand and for the most part didn’t believe. I wrote in journals, smoked and drank and still the answers I was seeking never revealed themselves.

By the time I was 19 years old, I had already experienced many things that did not make sense, but then the worst thing happened. My best friend’s four-year-old nephew, a boy the same age as my little niece, died.

Grief surrounded the family, my other family, and changed everyone forever. I remember writing in my tear stained journal, hoping I could write a great story someday and dedicate it to Baby Warren, because I knew I would never forget him. I never have.

Baby Warren’s funeral was the first I ever attended. His tiny coffin in the chapel was just the saddest thing I had ever seen. Every face there was tear-stained and hopeless, angry and sad. Everyone wondered why.

Since then I have attended so many funerals I can’t really count anymore. None as young as Warren; but many were too young to leave this earth; just barely touching the ground.

Earlier this month my son’s 53 year - old father died suddenly after returning home from a day of work. Some of us- the left behinds are wondering why. Why so soon? Why now? Why?

The first person to call me and make sure I was okay was that same best friend whose nephew died forty years earlier.

I always wonder if there is some lesson in it for us left behinds. And, of course there are several. I say it all the time. Life is short. Yet still I’m always shocked when someone’s life is cut short.

The other lessons seem so obvious but we forget them all the time. Love your family and friends. Be there when they need you. Enjoy the little things like an ice cream cone on a sunny day and the big things like the Grand Canyon. Understand your significance in the grand scheme and in the moment.

The Japanese Buddhist have an annual event called Obon. It is believed that each year during Obon the spirits of ancestors and loved ones return to this world to visit their relatives. This Japanese Buddhist custom is to honor the souls of one's ancestors and is celebrated as a reminder of the gratefulness one should feel toward one's ancestors and loved ones. I will attend Obon this year- and gratefully remember all my loved ones and ancestors that have left this material world.

With the passing of my son’s dad, Jon, I went once again looking for answers. This time I have found something I am willing to accept, as well as some peace of mind. I dug out my old book “The Teaching of Buddha” that I bought at the Buddhist Bazaar 15 years ago. I read it then- but now I understand.

If we are lucky, we will be remembered forty years after we are gone. Someone will think about us and remember the love, the hugs, the silly smile, the belly laugh, and the wise eyes.

If we are lucky, we will be loved long after we are gone because that is what helps those who are left behind.

I took a lovely walk with my son today and we remembered a fun time with his dad at the same park. We laughed remembering his dad manning the paddle boat while I gave up and smoked a cigarette and Nick said “Faster daddy, faster!”

There is a way to let them go and hang on at the same time.

How Happy Are You?

2011-01-03T22:13:00.000-08:00

Katie and Linda

My best advice, my big words of wisdom; not unique in any form, which I often share are: “Life is too short to be miserable. Sometimes I change the words a bit. “Life is too short to be unhappy.” “Life is too short to waste it on some asshole, bitch or moron (fill in your word). All variations of the same theme. Life is short- be happy.

Now I am the first to tell you, people who are happy all the time are annoying at best. Life has some horrible shit going on… and if you are anything more than a carrot-you must feel some of the misery in the world. So we have to find the happy (no pun intended) medium. It’s okay to be occasionally unhappy but try to not be depressed. It’s okay to be pissed off but not crazy. It’s okay to be happy but don’t go overboard.

On New Years Day I blogged about how much I like the New Year- the fresh start, and I do. But it also made me wonder why everyone doesn’t take advantage of the new year to clean house- take inventory and figure out if you are happy or not- and if not- why and is it easily fixed or will it entail attorneys fees, transplantation, amputation or just a simple vacation?

They say money can’t buy happiness, but most of the people I know right now would be happier with some money or are miserable without it. I know people with no jobs that would be happy if they could get a job but not so happy if the job cost them more to get to than they would make.

I know people in relationships that are not happy- some have forgotten what happy is, or happy has lowered its standards to make them content. Content- in my book is not happy. Content is eh… it’s copasetic, it’s beige. Others are just plain miserable.

Happy is excited. Excited to wake up, to see the clouds in the sky, and hear the birds chirping; listen to a baby giggle, watch the sunset and gaze at the stars. Happy is savoring life with all your senses. Happy is a soft, warm home baked cookie - content is a hard, cold store bought cookie.

I was not a happy baby or for much of my adult life either- until my late 30’s. My older sister looked in the sky and saw rainbows and I saw dark clouds. We were raised in the same house. I was always good at sizing up a situation though and understood at a very early age- maybe as early as three years old, that my parents were not one bit happy with each other. Of course, the fighting was a huge clue.

Life always gives us huge clues- but we obstinately ignore them until they suit our needs. Or we tell ourselves we have to compromise. Now I am single, but if you’re a couple I do understand that occasionally you have to see a movie you don’t really want to see or eat at a restaurant you’re not crazy about. But how much of your core values should you have to compromise? Should you give up friends, family, animals? For anyone? Ever? No- I don’t think so. I think if someone is asking any of those things of you- you have a big – no a giant clue- that things are not right. Fixable? Maybe. But generally speaking – I have met a million people in my life and selfish does not usually get better.

Happy- I suppose is relative for some. I am happy to be alive but I don’t really shout it from the roof top due to a fear of heights and a natural inclination to downplay things. I wonder sometimes if I would be happier with a life partner- some guys to cook for and play scrabble with or cuddle and watch a movie with too. But the truth of it is- I would only be happier if I didn’t have to change me at all. That’s probably not very fair of me- but it’s the truth. I’m happy with myself – and it took me so long to get here- it’s just not up for compromise.

Misery is extreme unhappiness. It’s what unchecked unhappiness leads to. It starts in the morning when you don’t want to get up – when the chirping birds piss you off and you want to kick the dog that is barking hello. It goes to the grocery store with you when you bitch about the price of something and gripe because the clerk is too slow. When you get to work you bring your headache, your ass ache your negative bullshit and make everyone around you listen to your sniveling all day. Then you go home, ignore the dog, say mean things to your family, bitch about everyone at work, and wonder why no one wants to be around you. Misery is a horrible cancer- a blight on humanity. If you have it- stay away from me.

So my question to all of you tonight is how happy are you? Are you happy or content? Miserable? If you could change your life would you?

Happy New Year 2011

2010-12-31T14:02:00.000-08:00

I had no great expectations for 2010. My goal was to stay alive, keep a roof over my head and hang on to my job. My wants were few. I wanted to be content if not joyous; I wanted my family to be happy and healthy. I wanted to write and hoped I would write something good enough to submit. I wanted to be there for everyone who needed me and more than anything, I wanted the boys I knew in Afghanistan, sons of my friends, to come home- alive.

I never promised myself to eat healthier, exercise, save money or try to have more tolerance for the unfortunate dimwits of the world. I fervently hoped to keep the chin level water from getting to my nose. (Is that where the “chin up” phrase came from? ) Based on that criterion I was successful.

I thought a lot about the world and the people in it; about bigotry, suppression, control, censorship, freedom and the lack thereof. I thought about politics in a different light, a global light and not just our little corner of the world. I read more books in the last six months of 2010 than I had in the last three years – books about different cultures and social issues. I weaned myself from frustration and censorship until the cord was severed clean and said good-bye to seven years of my online life. I thought about women in other countries who are murdered or maimed for looking at a man, or children who beg on the streets for food.

I wondered why after eight years Iraq is still not on its feet and why after nine years Osama Bin Laden is still able to hide in the mountains between Afghanistan and Pakistan.

I stressed about social issues closer to home too. I worried about no health insurance and my own inability to afford even when I had two jobs. I worried about homeless people and wondered why it is we are so compassionless towards so many of them. I wondered a lot about a country divided along party lines and like sheep to the slaughter following the dictates of the left or the right no matter how thoughtlessly stupid. I worried about kids not learning to read or write or think for themselves because they are so busy learning to pass a national test so their teachers can keep their jobs.

Some things left me as perplexed as always. Why people beat and /or kill their children, why people are rude to one another, why the courts are jammed with frivolous lawsuits and why the mentally ill can’t get help. Why a city, county, or country doesn’t have to balance its budget like a business and why all accounting is done with smoke and mirrors. I wondered if the economy was going to get worse before it gets better and I wondered if I could eek a few more hours out of the day to get things that needed doing done or get second job if needed.

As always, I wondered about God. I wondered why so many of His believers are sure their version of His existence is the only one that is right and I wondered how he feels about people killing and maiming in His name.

The saddest thing that happened this year was that my old dog Smokie died. But he gave us thirteen great years and the most unconditional love. The best thing that happened is that my family and friends are in good health. Oh, we have had our ups and downs, bruises and bumps, but we’ve survived to tell the story. I never forget how lucky I am to have the family and friends I do.

This weekend I am cleaning house. I’m cleaning closets and drawers and tossing or donating old clothes, shoes and purses. I’m cleaning the kitchen cabinets and dumping old spices and last bits of anything. I’m going to tackle my office and go through all the bills and figure out who I can pay and who has to wait a while longer. I am going to comb through the Writer’s Market book and find a publisher who might like my work- then actually submit.

In 2010 I tread water for 365 days. 2011 will start out cleaner and with some expectation of success by my standards if not yours. Not only will I keep my head above water, I will swim upstream like the strongest salmon. It’s not about resolutions for me- more like a legacy. If I kick the bucket this year or next, I don’t want anyone to be able to say- she was okay with status quo. I don’t want anyone to think I ever gave up on anything or walked away defeated- If I ever walked away it was in victory. If I chip away at some years and steam roll others, I always do my best to make a difference and influence others to do the same.

Happy New Year to my family and friends, without whom– it would be no year at all.

Besties

2010-12-05T18:46:00.000-08:00

This morning I had breakfast with two of my besties. We go back to what I lovingly refer to as the “Sausalito Days” when we were all adorable and skinny and slightly crazy. We had lots of boyfriends or would pass the same ones around and around- it was a small town, after all. That no guy ever came between us is a small miracle and a testament to our bond and long lasting friendship.

We have taken to meeting at IHOP for breakfast this past year. Early Saturday or Sunday mornings (before the church crowd gets there on Sunday). We used to eat at more trendy places- but as we get older and money seemingly tighter- and time harder to come by- this is where we have landed. I look around, see other sixty somethings- and think how did we ever get here?

Patti is married now, Liz and I, still single. I was in my early twenties when I met both of them in the early to mid 70’s. Of course I can’t be date specific because that was after all very heavy drinking and everything else days.

As we chatted this morning, we realized we are indeed getting old. We are all dragging our butts after a workweek and for the most part would like nothing more than to curl up with a good book on our days off. Patti stays busy- but pays the price by having bronchitis six times a year. Liz – a polio survivor who has never let her pain and polio complications stop her from anything- has slowed down considerably. I have babied myself for years. I don’t overbook, I rest up on weekends and still just recently became sick and lost time at work for the first time in I can’t remember how long.

We are all very different- with a few strands of commonality. Patti is the nurturer. She has the patience of Job and is the caretaker of the world. Sometimes I lose patience - on her behalf, because I’m sure she never will. She puts up with my rants of course, because she is probably the most patient with me. Patti will be the one to visit everyone in the old folk’s home- even though no one will know who she is anymore. She will talk to the patient like there is someone home upstairs- even when the lights are long out. That is who she is.

Liz is all heart, strength and intelligence – sometimes short on patience when she hears people complain about every day ass aches-like they are dying, when she has walked around with a whole body ache without complaint for most of her sixty plus years. She still thinks and talks faster than I can hear or comprehend- and her wit is still as sharp as thirty years ago. Her body betrays her- but she perseveres.

Sometimes I think- I am a little bit of both of them. They both participated in taking care of me- raising me during the craziest years. I probably owe them both my life- for shelter and sustenance when I needed it most.

I’m not as caring or patient as Patti- but I love my family and my friends and try to make a difference when I can. And I still make a few people laugh- those that get my deadpan humor and gallows wit anyway.

We are all survivors. We have all survived the loss of family and loved ones over the years. We have survived our own illnesses, broken hearts and occasional loneliness. Today when we spoke Liz reminded us to be grateful for what we have. She is right. We still have our health, though not perfect; we are not bed ridden or dead. We still have our brains, our memories intact if somewhat scattered some days due to stress or busy lives but not dementia. Not dementia or Alzheimer’s.

We traded Christmas gifts, which we said we were not going to do this year. None of us has money, but it has been our tradition for a long time now. As we were getting our coats on and bundled up to go out in the cold, it occurred to me how fortunate I have been to have the friends I have. How accepting they have been of my faults- my quick temper and unruly mouth.

Last month Renee, my oldest bestie (years known, not age) came to my rescue (and called me a stubborn ass I think) but I know I might have ended up in the hospital had she not come to take care of me and make me go to the doctor. She is right of course, I am a stubborn ass. Renee and I meet at IHOP whenever we can too.

Liz said today our big mistake in life was not buying an IHOP franchise. Now I can tell you of all my mistakes- if Liz thinks that is my big one- I’m good with that.

I started out today lying in bed playing a movie on the back of my eyelids as I do on Saturdays and Sundays when I can be awake and asleep at the same time. Sometimes the movie is good and sometimes it’s bad. If it’s very bad I get up. This morning was just an old movie that starred my family members no longer with us. December is my eh… month. Johnny died, mom died, and the month just carries a lot of baggage for me in addition to being dark and dreary. I told myself this morning as my movie was playing on the back of my eyelids; I was going to overcome the blues this December. I am going to walk my dogs-even in the rain, and I am going to take care of myself and be my usual happy self. Having friends like mine- make it all so much easier.

I’m not blue at all this evening. I feel like December will be good and January even better. I guess sometimes we just need to remember the good stuff and put the rest away.

** One more thing to be happy about. Two of my “newer besties” (less than a decade) sons are home SAFE from Afghanistan. That is something to be happy about this December too.

On a facebook quiz, the other day one of the questions was “Cup 1/2 empty or 1/2 full?” and my reply was fuck the cup. I would like to amend that just for today- cup 100% full.

It's Not Always About Race

2010-11-07T15:46:00.000-08:00

Anyone that knows me knows I am not a racist. I decided sometime last year that I would start calling bigots what they were- right to their faces. And I do so- without hesitation. I don’t care about age, gender or reasons why. A bigot is a bigot. But the same character trait that pulls at me to call these people out- is forcing me to call another issue the way I see it.

Not everything is about race.

I used to work with an African American girl who thought no one liked her because she was black. She called me mom because I was always dispensing unsolicited life advice to her. “Try being polite” I would say. “Get rid of that chip.” I would tell her. “Don’t drink so much, don’t date jerks, try to get to work on time, stop playing the race card!”

“Okay Mom.” She would reply.

She was really a sweet girl under all the bitterness and misplaced anger.

I recognized a lot of my young self in her. I recognized her poor choices in men and lifestyle: her reluctance to take responsibility for her own actions. It is always much easier to blame your parents, your school, the world in general, then to look at your own faults.

Natalya was angry about slavery. She was from Atlanta, Georgia. And, yes Georgia had slaves, but not in her lifetime- or her mother’s lifetime or her grandmother’s lifetime. Natalya came from a middle class family just like me, went to good schools, (her mother was a teacher) she was not raised in the projects, and had never been beaten by white people. In her lifetime, she had never been denied the right to vote and never had to sit in the back of the bus. Her anger was taught to her –somewhere along the line- someone said be angry…because life is not fair.

And yes- some people are bigots. Some men hate women, some women hate men, some people hate Chinese people, some people hate Mexican people some people hate African American people. Some people hate dogs some people hate cats. It’s not always based on anything substantial- just passed down from father and mother to son and daughter. Like the cancer gene.

So when Officer Johannes Mehserle was arrested and charged with the “murder” of Oscar Grant, it turned into a race issue- because Oscar Grant was black and Johannes Mehserle is white. There was no question about it. It was a race thing.

The press went to work fast. Convicting the BART policeman in the press before he ever got to court. He was white- and a policeman- therefore it stands to reason he is prejudiced, and hates black people enough to shoot them in the back. It must have been planned- because they charged him with first-degree murder. What a crock.

Johannes Mehserle made a huge mistake. And in doing so- he took the life of another human being; of this, there is no doubt. Did he wake up that day and say to himself… “I’m going to shoot someone today”? Probably not.

Mehserle was responding to a call at the Fruitvale BART station on New Year’s Day 2009. Whether confused by the melee or scared for his own life- because he thought Grant was going for a gun- Mehserle lost his bearings and grabbed his pistol instead of his taser and shot Grant in the back.

Any kind of murder charge would have been unjustified. The Judge in his case, (which was moved from Oakland to Los Angeles so Mehserle could get a fair trial) found that he could be charged with involuntary manslaughter but not murder due to lack of evidence– involuntary manslaughter assumes that the death was unintended- still though, finds criminal negligence. On top of that there was a special circumstance clause because a gun was used in the commission of a crime. But wait. Johannes Mehserle was a policeman right? They are issued guns. It’s not like he was some street hood that had a gun in his hoodie sleeve.

Citing the motion for bail – the police investigation report stated:

"Officer Pirone directed Officer Mehserle to arrest two of the individuals who had not been handcuffed. One of the individuals to be arrested was Oscar Grant, and Officer Pirone’s direction to Mehserle was overheard by Grant. Grant, upon hearing that he was under arrest, attempted to stand up, but was forced to the ground face first. Both Officer Mehserle and Officer Pirone attempted to restrain Mr. Grant and to seek his compliance by ordering him to put his hands behind his back to be handcuffed, but Mr. Grant resisted and refused to submit to handcuffing. Officer Mehserle was pulling at Mr. Grant’s right hand and arm, which remained under his torso near his waistband. Mr. Grant had not been searched by any officer for weapons, either prior to his initial detention or after being seated near the wall."

The motion also states that the man sitting next to Grant also told police he heard Mehserle say "I'm going to taze him."

Mehserle then stood up, unholstered his gun, and fired a shot into Grant's back. Immediately after the shooting, Mehserle appeared surprised and raised his hands to his face; according to Michael Rains, Mehserle's criminal defense attorney, several eyewitnesses described Mehserle as looking stunned. Witnesses say Mehserle said "Oh my god!" several times after the shooting. and many saw him put his hands to his head.

I’ll concede: Perhaps Johannes Mehserle was not great cop material. Perhaps his own fear got the best of him that day. Perhaps he had the jitters because earlier that day two guns had been recovered in separate incidents along the rail line. Immediately before he arrived at the Fruitvale Station , Mehserle was involved in an incident at the West Oakland station where a teenage boy with a semi-automatic pistol had fled from police and jumped off the station platform, breaking several bones.

Mehserle had a spotless record prior to this incident. Grant however did not. He had been convicted of several felonies and had served two terms in state prison. One of those incidents he was carrying a gun. He had been out of jail a mere three months prior to this BART incident. Mehserle would have no knowledge of this information, however- a good cop usually has a sixth sense- and maybe the hair on the back of Mehserle’s neck stood up when Grant tried to reach into his pocket while being arrested.

Oakland police work very hard for their money. And while BART Police are not Oakland police they work in the same crime ridden city where guns, thugs, drugs and shootings are commonplace. Parts of Oakland on any day are not safe- and on New Year’s Day- when morons like to shoot guns- it’s even less so. Three months and twenty-one days after the New Year’s Day incident- four Oakland City Police were killed in the line of duty- by gunfire. The assailant in that case was a 26 year old who had spent most of his life in prison. After a brief shoot out with police- he was killed. People tried to make him a hero. The police are hated in Oakland.

This was never about race- until the press made it so. This was about fear. Fear on both sides- no doubt. Grant afraid he would be arrested or perhaps killed for something he did or didn’t do, Mehserle afraid he would be shot and killed when he had a new baby on the way. This was about lack of training, lack of education and lack of communication.

The riots that followed the incident did nothing to help the black cause. It was teenagers looting, breaking windows and stealing anything they could get their hands on. It was not about race or rights. Black leaders half-heartedly asked for peace- but in my opinion did not do enough to show young people how to get there.

This week the sentencing of Mehserle, who was found guilty of involuntary manslaughter was announced. He is to serve two years with credit for time served. He will for the rest of his life, live with his mistake.

More riots followed the sentencing and over 100 arrests were made. Cars were smashed, windows broken and fires started.

Oscar Grant’s family is unhappy they wanted a murder conviction and maximum sentencing. Of course, their pain will last forever. Losing a child is a pain that never goes away.

Perhaps someday the press will find a way to tell the truth. This was never about race. This was about fear. Until people are ready to have an open dialogue with each other, this will continue to be a problem. Crime is a problem- no matter what color you are.

Prejudice isn’t a one way street. Stop waiting for the government to fix everything, get off your butts, and start confronting your fears. Don’t be a Mesherle or an Oscar Grant. Don’t be a victim. Lose the chip on your shoulder. Lose your knee-jerk reactions. And start telling the truth no matter how ugly it is- because that is the open door to all communication.

Sources cited:: http://www.indybay.org/uploads/2009/07/17/mehserlepreliminaryhearingvol6part3_060409.pdf

Mom is Here

2010-09-26T19:45:00.000-07:00

It’s a sure bet- that if my mom were alive today- my sisters and I would be fighting over whose turn it was to take care of her. "You take her." "No you take her." It would be nice to think that at our ages, this would not be true; that the lessons life taught us would make us value our mother more, but nothing really teaches you that lesson as much as losing someone.

Mom 13 Years old!

When my mom died, we had her cremated. I think the original thought was to sprinkle her ashes with my brother’s ashes up at Two Rock, but for whatever reason – instead, my sisters chose a beautiful urn, with an Asian style motif my mother would have loved, and deposited her remains therein.

She died in December of 1984, and because I was pregnant with Nick, my two sisters decided I should keep mom the first year. We decided together, that every New Year’s Day we would get together and we would hand her off to the next sister. We joked about fighting over who gets to have mom- knowing this would have never been the case were she still with us.

I can’t remember why I had my mom’s ashes in the car with me the day I was crossing Geneva Ave. in my mom’s old Cougar when a Cadillac ran a red light on Mission and plowed into my right front. The baby was about three weeks old. I grabbed the baby and ran to my Aunt and Uncle’s drug store a half- block away, shaking like a leaf. By coincidence, my dad (step) happened to be there too and when I told him what happened he took the baby so I could deal with the woman that ran the light. She had been on her way to pick up her grand daughter from kindergarten, she said. She was late.

Mom with her Godson Peter Scanlon

My baby was okay and I was too, and I attributed that to my mom watching out for us more than the solid build of the ‘67 Cougar. We believe what we want.

It’s not death, but time, which gives us the sorely needed perception to understand the departed. I have no illusions about my mom. I have not remade her into a person without faults or human frailties. Some of things I hated about my mom when I was fifteen I love about her now. I just needed time to understand them.

1964 34 years old in her Roaring 20's makeup

When I was about twelve my mom worked as a cocktail waitress at a place called “The Roaring Twenties”. She wore fishnet stockings, and a sequined costume that looked more like a strapless bathing suit. I used to love watching her get ready for work. She would apply her make-up with Hollywood precision. To my eye, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Sometimes, because I was a day sleeper not a night sleeper, I would be awake at 3AM when she got home still looking perfect and she would let me count her tips that she kept in a sequin bag. Her happiness was fleeting-but for a short time in 1964

I can remember her laughing and lighting up any room she was in.

When lives are cut short- we are always left to wonder… what if? I like to think if my mom were alive, she would marvel at her legacy. She would be so happy that we grabbed onto the good and left the bad behind. That we took the demons she lived with all her life- and sent them straight back to hell. That we each in our own ways worked through our own fears, trials and tribulations and came out right side up. I like to think too- that she is watching over all of us; children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. That she sees a little bit of her son in Joanna and her children and a little bit of herself in all her grandkids and great grandkids. I sure see it.

Mom approx. 52

Somewhere along the line the ritual of sharing our mother on New Years Day got left behind. My four years in North Carolina and just life in general seemed to get away from all of us. When I came home from North Carolina I kept thinking I need to go get mom- but then when I was at my sister Linda’s house I would forget. Out of sight out of mind, they say.

Last week Linda brought mom to me. And I feel like it’s good timing. I’ll put her on my bookshelf (next to Smokie’s ashes now) and I’ll talk to her when I need someone to listen but not answer.

It’s hard to not wonder what mom would be like now. Would all these grandchildren and great grand-children have filled up the hole my brothers’ death left in her heart?

The passage of time has given me the gift of perception.

Each year that passes without my mom- I realize something new about her.

I'm glad she is here with me now. I won't argue or be defiant. I'll try to remember the wise things she told me when my hearing was sharp but my ears heard nothing.

It's More Than Cooking

2010-09-06T20:18:00.000-07:00

I realized yesterday- yep just yesterday, that the most important life lessons I have taught my son- I taught him in the kitchen. Long before the Marine Corps taught him to adapt and overcome- I had him adapting recipes to overcome our sometimes-wanting food bins.

He learned in my kitchen- my philosophy on compromise. Those of you who know me- know I take issue with compromise just for the sake of making people happy. Well- it’s the same with cooking and baking. If the recipe calls for butter- use butter. Period. Margarine should not even be in the house. If you are broke-or have a broken hip and can’t make it to the store – and you have to have mashed potatoes- and you only have margarine- well maybe you can use it then (although you will ruin your mashed potatoes). Never – never use it in cookies- unless you are making some sort of special margarine flavored cookies I don’t know about.

I taught him about the importance of generosity in our kitchen. No matter how broke I have ever been- I will have enough food for anyone that happens to come by. I can make three dinners out of one chicken breast, a little pasta and a can of peas. No peas? Corn will work, or spinach or green beans. No matter how little food we had- we always had enough to feed another person or two. I see him do the same now. He will give away his last dollar, his last cigarette, his last breath if need be.

He learned the importance of having good tools- and making due with the next best thing if those tools were not available. A sharp knife is the most important tool in the kitchen.

It’s in the kitchen that we shared the most stories and the most fun. Family recipes always have stories attached to them. Stories of survival, ingenuity, mistakes… and successes. It’s easy to talk when you are busy doing other things... it’s less intense- more casual. Even the sad tales of being broke and eating spaghetti 10 days in a row don’t seem so sad when you are cooking and telling how you perfected the sauce. For those of us who push emotions away and try to keep an even keel- talking while cooking is the answer. You can cry while chopping onions.

I think the most important thing he learned from me in the kitchen is to have passion in what you do and it will always make it better. I know I am always more animated, more alive, more fun- when I am cooking or baking. I love food- and I love to make people happy with food. There is a reason why all of our celebrations have food. It’s a peace offering, it’s love, it’s friendship, it’s sharing, it’s family. (blood and otherwise)

When Nick was born his dad and I were no longer together. We agreed though- that he (Jon) could be in charge of his left brain-because he is über smart and I could be in charge of his right brain as a default prize.

Now- I am glad it worked out that way. I realize now all the left-brain things one needs to learn in life- are taught through right brain activities. Funny how that all works out.Cooking is both a left and right brain activity- but the ingenious part, the thing that makes my cookies better than someone else's is all right brain stuff. (and butter)

Yesterday, when I went to San Francisco to bring my son some of his mama’s lasagna, he was outside in front of his friends’ house and they were BBQ’ing tritip & crab legs. His melting pot of friends all contributing some how to the celebration of food were all smiling and full of life. The twenty somethings realizing what many sixty somethings never do- that life is really all about friends, family and what we can do for other people.

So many older people think young people are self-absorbed. But I saw sharing and friendship and a large dose of ingenuity in their little street feast. They taught me something in their outdoor kitchen.