witsendmagazine.com

It's Okay To Disagree

2012-01-31T19:15:00.000-08:00

Declining With Dignity - from The Huffington Post

2012-01-30T15:57:00.000-08:00

He is almost completely blind, extremely hearing-impaired and unable to walk without assistance. He is 94 years old. Eight months ago, his wife of 70 years died. After the funeral he announced his intention to move across the country to be closer to immediate family. When asked if the move would be permanent, he replied, "I'm 94 years old. I don't make long-range plans." Four months later, my father-in-law did, indeed, move from New Jersey to California.
In the best of all possible worlds, each of us would grow old in our own home and ultimately slip gently away lying in our own bed. The best of all possible worlds, we realize, reflects not reality but a shared vision of what life might someday become. For John, my father-in-law, remaining in his own home would mean isolation interrupted by three visits a day from a well-intentioned and well-paid caregiver to serve him meals he would likely eat in solitude. He has outlived almost all of his friends. He is the last of his siblings. His children and grandchildren are scattered across the country. Remaining in his New Jersey home was not a viable option.
Our next best of all possible worlds would be, we initially reasoned, for John to live with us. A quick appraisal of our floor plan indicated several flaws in the burgeoning next best of all possible plans. Since stairs are insurmountable barriers for John, he would be confined to the first floor of our home where there is no bathroom. Even if we did extensive and impractical remodeling, John would spend his Mondays through Fridays alone while we worked long days at demanding jobs. The isolation of these days would be interrupted by one if not two visits from a well-intentioned and well-paid caregiver to serve him meals he would likely eat in solitude.
We reluctantly abandoned our vision of John growing older in if not his own home, then at least surely in our home. There appeared to be no best of all possible worlds for a man practical and courageous and trusting enough to move across the country. And so it was that we began our search for an assisted living facility near our home.
There's nothing quite like "placing" an elderly family member in a "facility" to conjure up feelings of guilt and shame and anger and, yes, failure. None of those feelings was communicated to us in any way by my father-in-law. His original intention was to move into "some sort of facility." He is blessed with the financial resources necessary for such a choice. Our negative reactions were born of the stigma attached to "placing" and "facility." We forgot that what society fears it stigmatizes. And doubtless we as a society fear the incapacitations associated with growing old.
John now lives in a senior residence two miles from our home in a conservative Los Angeles suburb. Two flamboyantly attired middle-aged men, who might under different circumstances be themselves stigmatized, manage the "facility," which is licensed and tightly regulated by state and federal agencies. In addition to their flair for personal fashion, the managers have an equal flair for decorating and for throwing good old-fashioned parties. They find occasion to celebrate just about anything from birthdays to new arrival days to Fridays to calendared holidays to "Irv plays the harmonica so let's hear him" days. My father-in-law eats his meals in the communal dining room at a table with three friends. He goes to exercise class where other friends save his special hand weights for him. He attends movie matinee Wednesday even though he can't see the screen or hear most of the dialogue.
I've spent a lot of time in this "facility" over the past several months, and I've observed several constants. The first constant is that John and his cohorts take care of each other in very subtle ways. An example of this quiet caring takes place every meal at the table he shares with three friends. One friend, like John, sits in his wheel chair at the table. Another friend uses a walker and would have great difficulty arranging himself at the table if the fourth friend did not see his approach and use his foot to -- without being noticed -- position the chair for easy table access. It is possible that few people notice this constant act of caring. Perhaps not even the man receiving the assistance notices. Nevertheless, the chair is always in the right position. I've also noticed the constant power of community and, overwhelmingly, the constant turning toward life at a time when compelling evidence might dictate a different turning.
Things seemed to be going so well for John in his new home that we were understandably devastated when he began to complain. His new friend at exercise class forgot to save him his weights. The kitchen staff served his coffee at the end of lunch instead of the beginning. The musicians hired for the party didn't play any songs he knew. Careening mentally from complaint to catastrophe, we asked John if he wanted to move to another "facility."
Stunned by our question, my father-in-law replied, "Why would I want that? I like it here!"
And then we got it. John is living his life and life lived well is full of challenges and complaints and quiet caring for others. Yes, he is declining. So am I. So are you. But in his full throttle claiming all of life's vagaries, my father-in-law has forged dignity into his decline and that might truly be the best of all possible worlds.

to see the actual post go to
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mary-walker-baron/getting-older_b_1239233.html

A World Seen Through The Eyes of a Cold

2012-01-29T19:02:00.000-08:00

For the past several days I've had a bad cold accompanied by a hacking cough. My world has become cough drops and tea. I see the world through rheumy eyes. I pretend I'm a Basset Hound. I shall lean on the perfect excuse for not keeping my new year's resolution of writing on this blog every day. Of course, tomorrow or the next day I will be fine again and without an excuse. Apologies. We all try harder and keep stumbling ahead.
Keep reading.

A Sweet Wrong Number

2012-01-25T12:02:00.000-08:00

Last night a little after eleven my cell phone rang. The caller's number displayed as restricted. Since I am almost always on call for work, I answered in my typical on call fashion:

Mary: This is Mary
Caller: May I speak to Michelle?
Mary: Sorry. There's no one named Michelle here. You must have the wrong number.
Caller: Seriously? There's no one named Michelle there? Are you sure?
Mary: I'm sure. What number did you dial?
Caller: (By the way, the caller is male.) (And at this point he recited my cell phone number.)
Mary: Wow! That's my phone number all right. But there's still no one named Michelle here.
Caller: Oh, man! This is so disappointing. I was at a party last night and I met this amazing woman named Michelle. I asked her for her phone number and this is the number she gave me.
Mary: Maybe you wrote it down wrong?
Caller: I repeated it back to her. Oh, this is so rude. My name is Josh.
Mary: Hi, Josh. I'm Mary.
Caller: Hi Mary. I feel so silly. Do you think she didn't want me to call her?
Mary: Josh, anything is possible. Those things happen.
Caller: Mary, could I talk to you for awhile.
Mary: Josh, I assure you I am not the woman of your dreams.
Caller: Oh, yeah. I'm so sorry. I'll say good-bye now.
Mary: Bye, Josh. And good luck to you.
Caller: Thanks. I really appreciate that.

And then he hung up and so did I.

Michelle, seriously. Next time just tell the guy you don't want him to call you. And by the way, I think you should have given Josh your real phone number. He sounded like a great guy.

An End Of The World Sunset

2012-01-24T18:57:00.000-08:00

I left work a little early this evening -- about five o'clock. Driving west on the 210 freeway was a most and unusual undertaking. The entire sky was streaked red and purple. The entire sky. At first I thought, 'Wow. What an amazing sunset.' It was truly an amazing sunset. Then I got to thinking that I had never, ever, seen a sunset like that in California. Then I got to thinking some more that I had never, ever, seen a sunset like that in my entire life -- not even in Arizona famous for its sunsets. Then, of course, I got to thinking that such sunsets can only herald the end of the world. Then I got to thinking that this sunset must be what living on Mars looks like all the time. And then I remembered that something is going on with the sun (or went on with the sun early this morning) which caused Delta Airlines to cancel some of its high flying flights (or rather some of its higher flying flights because presumably most of its flights fly high). And then I thought, "Okay. We'll all probably survive this sunset."
So then I just appreciated it and then I was home.
Welcome to my world where a fantastic sunset is never just a fantastic sunset.

More Lessons Learned From The Basset

2012-01-22T19:40:00.000-08:00

In the scheme of things and compared to most representatives of the dog world, Basset Hounds are different in appearance. I say that with all admiration and kindness but come on. The Basset Hound does not exhibit the characteristics we might look for if we, for example, went looking for a big, handsome brute of a dog.
Here's the thing, though.
Basset Hounds feel really good about themselves. They may have many deficits or behaviors that many might label deficits (stubborn and the aforementioned lack of any Alpha dog awareness, for example) but self esteem or positive self image is not among them.
So the lesson learned?
Why should I care what other people might think of how I look or how I behave? My Basset Hound doesn't give a shit so neither should I.
In the future, therefore, I will try to nurture my inner Basset Hound and feel really good about myself.

We don't get it either.

2012-01-22T19:32:00.000-08:00

I've been sitting downstairs reading, and the boy's been playing (noisily) in his room. The radio was on, but I wasn't really paying attention to what was on, and I didn't assume Niko was either. Then, about midway through "Maggie May," I noticed it had gotten quiet upstairs. When the song ended, Niko shouted down, "I don't get it! Does he like her, or does he hate her?" Welcome to the world, my boy. Welcome to the world.

Come On, Paula

2012-01-17T21:16:00.000-08:00

On the ‘Today Show’ this morning, Paula Deen, the dietary-demon who built her career by trying to kill us with such epicurean-evils as “Chocolate-Dipped Bacon-Wrapped Deep-Fried Butter Balls,” shocked the world with some news. Not the unsurprising part about having had Type-2 Diabetes “for years,” but the soul-shocking news that she’s signed a multi-million dollar contract to promote diabetes treatment drugs for Novo Nordisk. I expect she’ll be introducing a recipe for “Butterfat Krispy-Kreme Insulin Shakes” any day now. Just for the record, please note that I’m not making a joke about the horrible disease “Diabetes.” I just wish that this sort of irresponsible, life-threatening hypocrisy was prosecutable.

Inside the Basset Brain

2012-01-16T19:35:00.000-08:00

For a little over six months I have lived in the company of a Basset Hound. When first I entered this new reality I made the assumption I would be sharing my life with a dog. You know the species. They love to please since they are man's/woman's best friend. They can be trained to do things like sit or come on command. That sort of stuff.
I must confess that the first five or so months were more often than not frustrating.
Until one day I realized like a so the world isn't flat sort of enlightenment that I wasn't living with a dog at all. I was living with a Basset Hound.
Here, then, is my quick summary of Basset Hound life.
Basset Hounds reject the notion of Alpha Dog. They are happiest in a leaderless, formless amalgamation of dog. I should have figured this out at the Southern California Basset Hound Picnic during which I attended an obedience demonstration. After saying 'come' to her Basset Hound the ersatz human Alpha Dog waited a good ten minutes before her Hound finally wandered in her direction. No other attendee expected more or less. Silly me. I simply assumed that I had not heard correctly and was actually attended a demonstration on disobedience. I now have a clearer understanding.
Understanding their rejection of Alpha Dog leads me to my next insight. Basset Hounds have no aggressive urges. They are amiable traveling companions with no expectations of the journey's purpose.
And while they travel, Basset Hounds have no need to mark their territories. They are not land owners. Walking a Basset Hound, then, is as unpredictable as using Curious George for guidance. The Basset Hound follows its nose as far as the leash allows.
Now that I've given up all dog like expectations Bradford and I get along much better.
I will keep you posted as I delve deeper and deeper into the Basset Hound psyche unless, of course, I've plumbed its depths as far as they go. In which case I will just have to make stuff up.
Whatever the case, I will keep you posted.

Dreaming On

2012-01-12T14:22:00.000-08:00

Here we are almost two weeks into the new year and already those earnest and so well intentioned resolutions are collecting dust somewhere on the back shelf of that weird kitchen cupboard next to the dishwasher that no one except a person with arms four feet long, eyes on springs, and a flashlight for a nose could ever find or reach. We're wondering why we wasted our time creating them!
But wait.
Even if they just sit on that shelf and collect dust, their creation was far from a waste of time. Resolutions are restatements of hopes and dreams and those are important things to restate and revisit because if we don't we're apt to lose track of them.
Okay. Maybe I won't walk three miles a day every day for the next year. But my resolution to do so reminds me that exercise is important to me.
So don't worry about that weird shelf. Let the resolutions lie.
Here's what's important.
Hang on to the hopes and the dreams regardless of how far fetched they may seem or how many people tell us to forget them.
Our dreams nourish and define us. They matter. So do we.

Quality Time In The Park

2012-01-11T17:57:00.000-08:00

Yesterday afternoon, I took the boy to the playground and was sitting on a bench watching him engage in some fairly ridiculous nonsense, when one of the parents asked, "Which one's yours?" I scanned the bustling crowd of screaming kids, noticed that Niko was being the zombie they were all running from, and replied, "I don't know, I haven’t picked one out yet!" After staring at me for a moment, she became more insistent and said, "No, really."

It's not the hair that makes the man.

2012-01-09T18:31:00.000-08:00

His hair started falling out about 6 months ago, at the time it was one "spot." Over time it spread, no longer was it "localized" it became "generalized." It was significant enough that other kids at his school started to ask him about it. Recently he turned 13 years old, kind of a cruddy time in life to be in the throws of an autoimmune disorder that causes Alopecia. Over the recent Holiday, he had two weeks off from school, and decided that it was time "to just buzz it." Today he returned to school. He refused a ride to school, he refused to have his mom or dad contact the principal to see if he could wear a hat, "I just need to do this dad" he said. We text back and forth several times, until he told me, "i'm in dad, I'm good." When I got home from work we talked, "everybody asked what the deal was, I just told them the truth, ya know my hair was falling out and I had it buzzed." Now admittedly he was a little annoyed with the repeated questions about the "buzz", but stuck to his script. I did a little economics with him and talked about the law of diminishing returns and that people will be less interested in his hair as the week progresses and move on to other things, "I know dad." I could not imagine having the guts, grace and the uncanny ability to compartmentalize like this kid has...at 13, cool kid, think I'll keep him.

The R In The Circle

2012-01-08T21:00:00.000-08:00

A week ago, Niko asked what the little "R" in the circle means. I did my best to explain what a registered trademark is. But, I think cost projections for his education just rose dramatically. He's in his room playing, and I just heard this discussion take place between, I suppose, Batman & Robin; "That was Jokah, after him!" "Wait, who did you say it was?" "Jokah, he just robbed the bank." "You mean 'Joker'." "No, 'Joker' is trademarked. That was 'Jokah'. Go get him." "Who's 'Jokah'?" "He's a bad guy like 'Joker', but we can get sued if we say 'Joker'." "Oh, OK, Which way did he go?"

Not As Funny As I Thought

2012-01-07T17:53:00.001-08:00

I looked at the ad on the back page of this week's Jewish Journal, and saw that one of the major Jewish mortuaries in Los Angeles is offering a new service. It read, "Being with family and friends during one of the most difficult times is important. Now with Live Streaming loved ones are able to attend the service even if the distance is too great."

At first I thought that was pretty over-the-top. The Other Family Human and I joked about people responding to news of an impending funeral by saying, "Eh, no, I'm busy that day; I'll just TIVO it". Then I remembered a couple of situations of our own. A dear member of our family died last summer and circumstances made it impossible for us to fly the 3000 miles necessary to attend the funeral. Instead, we were able to set up a Skype call which allowed us to participate in the shiva minyan that evening. We had felt really cut off from the proceedings and this connection made us feel great. I also remembered that, about six years ago, I had officiated at the baby naming of a child whose uncle was 3000 miles away and unable to attend. This was before the days of Skype, but they were able to set up a webcam system that allowed him to see his niece's naming ceremony. The Other Family Human was taking pictures at the ceremony, and took one of every attendee, including one of the computer screen with the uncle's image on it.

There really are times when you want to be there but can't. So, you use technology to do the best you can instead. Not so funny after all.

Wine Tasting 101

2012-01-05T18:29:00.000-08:00

I got my homework back from my “Wine Tasting 101” class (another one of those Living Social deals). We were supposed to list some of the adjectives we’ve used to describe wine. Clearly, the instructor disapproves of my humor, as there were thick red lines drawn through “Winey,” “Flatulent,” “Bootylicious,” “Curdled,” Busty,” “Ranch-style,” "Doable," “Circumcised,” “Ridonkulous,” and “Deep-dish” (I wasn’t spitting mine into the bucket the night we did this assignment).

Election Night Special

2012-01-03T21:26:00.000-08:00

Monty Python restores sanity to the situation, as always.

Not Another Resolution, Exactly

2012-01-02T20:42:00.000-08:00

But something to consider at any rate. Possibly more fun than wearing purple all the time, if you get my drift.

Time To Begin Again

2012-01-01T10:27:00.000-08:00

Well, I was going to start my list of resolutions with a promise to only say nice things about people this year, but I was afraid that might be misinterpreted as a vow of silence. So, here’s the rest of the list:
1. Watch more cute and cuddly kitten videos on YouTube (need to start with the more easily attainable one).
2. Eliminate four of my seven email accounts, and start checking my work e-mail... account at least once a month.
3. Gain enough weight to get on “The Biggest Loser” (Note to self: Start buttering my doughnuts).
4. I won’t confuse my New Year's resolutions and my bucket list and do a bunch of stuff I meant to do when I'm old like I did last year.
5. I won’t buy into the hype that New Year's is just a holiday created by calendar companies who don't want you reusing last year's calendar, and I will refuse to start the year off using the commercialized, PC expression, “Happy X-Year.”
6. Stop hanging out with people who are likely to ask me how I’m doing with my list of resolutions.
Happy New Year! You all make it worth the trouble.

You Know You Love It

2011-12-31T17:06:00.000-08:00

Come on. Who doesn't like Myron Floren and The Semonski Sisters? Ring in the new year with the Beer Barrel Polka -- or any which way you can.

Happy New Year!

A Sign of Hope

2011-12-31T16:48:00.000-08:00

I work in community mental health. My Jeep is a familiar sight generally parked in the same parking space day after day after day. My job is to help the severely mentally ill reclaim hope. This message was left on my driver's side door yesterday. I truly appreciate the sentiment though possibly not so much the fact that it was left with permanent marker. On the other hand, perhaps hope shouldn't be something easily erased.

Here's to a new year filled with hope.

Lighting the Fires On Nani

2011-12-31T16:39:00.000-08:00

On the imaginary island of Nani the ceremonial fires are about to be lit, the drums will sound and at the exact moment Mere and Ariki will stand and together sing "Pennies From Heaven" little knowing that in just hours their lives will take a completely new direction.
But This Is Different -- a novel.

How long will you wait to keep a promise? Mere waited forty years.

A New Calendar - Shortened Version

2011-12-31T16:31:00.000-08:00

I'm really not looking forward to an entire year of hype about the Mayan Calendar. Why is everyone so worried? Nationwide, there are thousands of Hannah Montana calendars that end in 14 hours, and I really doubt that we've seen the last of that gavel-voiced shrill-billy.

We Can't Always Be Frank, Apparently

2011-12-28T17:44:00.000-08:00

I swear I would faint on the spot if one of these DA's ever displayed any sense of humor at all. He said, "Ok, can I be frank for a minute?" Obviously, my only possible response was, "Only if you're Zappa. I always get to be Sinatra." cue the crickets I could see the mental anguish he was going through trying to come up with a response. Offering to give him a hug may have been pushing it.

Why I'm Not A Cat Person

2011-12-25T20:19:00.000-08:00

One of the advantages (well, just about the only advantage) of working for a newspaper is that you get to meet a lot of interesting people. For example, I once met a guy named Gordon Gordon, who with his wife Mildred wrote the novel, Undercover Cat, upon which the movie, "That Darn Cat," was based. Gordon (I never knew whether I was on a first-name basis with him or not) was extremely big on cats. In fact, he had a plaque beside his front door that said something along the lines of, "This house was bought and paid for by a cat."

I do not share his fondness for cats. Especially not now, after the encounter my wife Linda and I had Saturday afternoon with a crummy tabby named Pansy. This cat belongs to Linda's 90-year-old mother, Frances. A few days ago, Frances fell and broke her hip, and will be confined to a rehab center for some time. So something had to be done with Pansy.

Easier said than done.

First off, you have to visualize Pansy. If cats became sumo wrestlers, Pansy would be one of the champions. A big, whomping fat cat. And you would think, a slow-moving one at best. You, unfortunately, would be wrong. As long as only a short distance was involved -- from under the bed to back in the closet, and back under the bed, right in the center where no one could reach her -- Pansy was as elusive as a ferret.

We spent half an hour trying to catch that wretched feline. Once, we nearly had her. Linda coaxed her out from under the bed with a trail of cat treats, and I grabbed her, getting several good scratches in the process, and slammed her into the cage. But then we had problems closing the damned cage, and she got out again.

More chasing her around the bedroom, in and out of the closet, under and out from under the bed. We tore the bed apart, taking off the mattress and box springs so Pansy couldn't hide under there anymore.

Finally, Linda cornered her up against the dresser, and I think at that point Pansy just surrendered. "Okay, you bastards," she seemed to say. "Do with me as you will."

And finally we got her closed up in the cage. She meowed a few times, pathetically, but we were absolutely heartless. We traveled across town with Linda sitting in the back seat of the car making certain that cage didn't come open -- all the way to a friend of Linda's who agreed to take care of Pansy. This is an extremely nice lady named Marian Shultis, who has a lot of experience with dogs and cats, and whose dog recently died. So she was happy to take in the poor temporarily homeless cat.

Much better treatment than she deserves, if you ask me. But as I said, I'm not a cat person. The book, if I were writing it, would be called something much stronger than "That Darn Cat." Something like "That F**kin' Feline."

Gordon Gordon, incidentally, gave me a signed copy of his famous cat novel. This is what he wrote: "For Thom Walker (as I was then called, shortly before I changed my name to 'Walker Walker') -- With much admiration of a very talented writer and editor -- Gordon Gordon of 'The Gordons.'" And under that was a stamped print of a cat's paw. Kinda makes you sick.

Oh, and we heard today from Marian, the kindhearted rescuer of Pansy. She said Pansy has quickly settled into her new home, is venturing out and rubbing against Marian's ankles, purring and meowing happily. So there's a happy ending to this story -- at least, until Frances returns home and we have to capture Pansy again for another trip in her cage.

Bastards, the cat will be thinking. They won't get me this time.

And Finally, This

2011-12-24T19:01:00.001-08:00

And On Another Note

2011-12-24T13:14:00.000-08:00

We Won't, Mary

2011-12-23T14:48:00.000-08:00

And Celebrate Even More

2011-12-23T11:23:00.000-08:00

In what is surely intended as a universal Christmas gift to snarky people like me, it was announced that Britney Spears is getting married for the third time, this time to her former agent. I can see no reason this marriage should not work, as long as you don't count the endless reasons this marriage will never work. (Attention headline writers: "Oops, She's Doing it Again" is neither clever nor original.)

So Celebrate

2011-12-23T11:07:00.000-08:00

From USA Today Of All Places

2011-12-21T21:16:00.000-08:00

Seriously. The following article appeared in USA Today. I also heard it on the news while driving to work. History and the move toward social justice are cause for celebration and it sounds like people celebrated this.
The world is changing. Forget that this story has been passed to and fro from one source to another so that (possibly) no one has to take credit for reporting it. The event happened.
So here's the story as told eventually by USA Today.

For the first time, a lesbian couple today marked a time-honored Navy homecoming tradition in which a sailor is chosen to be the first off the ship to exchange a kiss with a loved one, The Virginian-Pilot reports.
The USS Oak Hill returned to the Navy base at Virginia Beach after almost three months at sea training in Central America.
As homecoming approached, the crew and the ship's family readiness group sold $1 raffle tickets to pick the sailor to be first off the ship to deliver the coveted first kiss on the dock.
Petty Officer 2nd Class Marissa Gaeta bought 50 tickets and won, the newspaper reports.
Navy officials said it was the first time on record that a same-sex couple was chosen to kiss first upon a ship's return, the Associated Press reports.
Here's how The Virginian-Pilot reported the precedent-shattering event of the post "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" era:
Her girlfriend of two years, Petty Officer 3rd Class Citlalic Snell, was waiting. They kissed. The crowd cheered. And with that, another vestige of the policy that forced gays to serve in secrecy vanished.

And here's the couple:

Welcome home, sailor.

It Certainly Wasn't A Bick

2011-12-20T22:15:00.000-08:00

An unidentified 76-year-old woman has had a pen inside her stomach for the past 25 years, according to a report in the British Medical Journal. Doctors at a hospital in Exeter, England, recently and surgically removed it.
The patient told her doctors that 25 years ago, she was using the pen to inspect a spot on her tonsils when she slipped, fell and accidentally swallowed the pen. Her husband, who was a doctor, didn’t believe her story, so he took an x-ray and then apparently believed her even less because nothing showed up in the x-ray.
Unable to prove her story, the woman went about her business with the pen in her stomach. She had no symptoms that the pen was causing any trouble until recently when she started losing weight and experiencing other intestinal disturbances we need not mention. Subsequent tests revealed the pen.
By the way, it was a felt tipped pen.
When surgeons got the pen out of the woman's stomach, they found that it still wrote clearly. They said it was pretty amazing for a felt tipped pen to write after all of those years.
I'm not even going to try and guess why the surgeons tried writing with the pen. Even more than the pen writing is the fact that they tried writing with it.
Here's what I find fascinating about this whole thing.

Pen Inside Woman's Stomach

I can't even keep a pen in my pocket or on my desk for more than five minutes. They just disappear on me though, thankfully not in me. I used to have a coffee cup on my desk full of pens but they just disappeared and those that remained in the cup wouldn't write.
So naturally I'm kind of bummed that this woman knew exactly -- for twenty-five-years -- the location of her pen. And then, of course, it just doesn't seem fair that the thing still wrote perfectly once removed from the woman's stomach.
Of course, I don't envy the woman's ability to keep track of her writing implements enough to swallow a pen because, trust me, I'd never see the pen again. It would somehow get lost. And even if surgeons eventually found it, trust me more. It wouldn't write.

Driving Distracted

2011-12-19T21:18:00.000-08:00

Every day driving to and from work on the 210 freeway I twice pass the Miller brewery in Irwindale, California. Just the thought of all that beer can sometimes be quite distracting. And on a good day the smell of perhaps yeast can really cause a mind trip. This morning, though, my distraction had nothing to do with the brewery. On the other side of the freeway (I was headed east so the sign was on the west side of the freeway but facing east bound drivers) was a billboard about the size of an air craft carrier. It was three dimensional so that sticking out practically across the west bound lanes and into my face was the key pad of a cell phone. The message of billboard was 'Don't text while driving!' Three dimensional with a major misspelling with the sole purpose of warning me to not become distracted while driving.
Okay.

A Simple Parenting Tip

2011-12-19T21:12:00.000-08:00

As an involved parent with an education background, I do my best to make life lessons more relatable for the boy. So, yesterday, at Whole Foods when the water misters in the produce aisle came on, and he asked what they were for, I told him they keep away wicked witches disguised as broccoli.

Free Fiona

2011-12-16T21:03:00.000-08:00

I get it that these days we are bombarded with causes -- worthy causes but nevertheless they bombard us.
However, I must draw attention to a cause I've just started. I'm not asking for contributions - at least not yet. I just want you to become aware of the situation and then I will keep you posted. Keep on your toes because you may need to swing into action at any moment.
Here's the thing.
Fiona Glenanne of Burn Notice -- she's a fictional character mind you -- has surrendered to the authorities to keep Michael Weston -- the burned spy and love of her life -- from doing rotten stuff.

The season ends with Fiona being taking into custody staring into the far away eyes of the shocked and grief stricken Michael.
This can't be happening. Not in this day and age. Innocent, heroic, truly good heroes don't go off to prison. Not even fictional ones. Or do they? At any rate, something must be done and we are the only ones who can do it. Okay, maybe the writers can do it during the hiatus but do I trust them to do it right? Absolutely not.
And so begins the Free Fiona movement. To it I dedicate well certainly not my life but at least a couple minutes a day.
Won't you join me?
I will keep you posted.

Santa Is Apparently Really Serious

2011-12-15T18:27:00.000-08:00

Don't Regret Regret - From Ted.com

2011-12-14T19:37:00.000-08:00

Kathryn Schulz is a journalist, author, and public speaker with a credible (if not necessarily enviable) claim to being the world's leading wrongologist. Her freelance writing has appeared in the New York Times Magazine, Rolling Stone, TIME Magazine, the Boston Globe, the "Freakonomics" blog of The New York Times, The Nation, Foreign Policy, and the New York Times Book Review, among other publications. She is the former editor of the online environmental magazine Grist, and a former reporter and editor for The Santiago Times, of Santiago, Chile, where she covered environmental, labor, and human rights issues. She was a 2004 recipient of the Pew Fellowship in International Journalism (now the International Reporting Project), and has reported from throughout Central and South America, Japan, and, most recently, the Middle East. A graduate of Brown University and a former Ohioan, Oregonian and Brooklynite, she currently lives in New York's Hudson Valley.

"What a delicious strawberry!!"

2011-12-13T19:44:00.000-08:00

I was having a conversation with a dear friend about getting through the day and how things could always be worse, she remembered this "zen story" her version and the way she described was spectacular and although it only took a minute to recite, I got stuck in a moment (ok i'm neurotic and I looked it up) and I found this...

'There was once a man who was being chased by a ferocious tiger across a field. At the edge of the field there was a cliff. In order to escape the jaws of the tiger, the man caught hold of a vine and swung himself over the edge of the cliff. Dangling down, he saw, to his dismay, there were more tigers on the ground below him! And, furthermore, two little mice were gnawing on the vine to which he clung. He knew that at any moment he would fall to certain death. That's when he noticed a wild strawberry growing on the cliff wall. Clutching the vine with one hand, he plucked the strawberry with the other and put it in his mouth. He never before realized how sweet a strawberry could taste.'

His day would have been a lot worse without the strawberry. I made it 5 PM to end my shift fairly effortlessly.

Rain As Blessing Rain As Curse

2011-12-12T21:46:00.001-08:00

Nothing is simple here in Southern California. Oh yeah, we're supposed to be the laid back not a care in the world post hippies run amok and rattled eventually into La La Land. Trust me. It's all a facade. For example, right now it is raining. We need the rain. Who doesn't need the rain? Except that just a few days ago winds blew down most of our trees and shrubs and power lines and not much of the debris has been cleaned up yet. A lot of it is right now blocking crucial drain areas. So where does the water go? I guess we'll find out later on tonight.

Having A Plan Is Essential

2011-12-11T21:00:00.000-08:00

Before anybody complains, I evaluated the possibility that the boy will find himself in this particular scenario any time before he’s old enough to realize the peril involved, and I’m 70%-80% sure it’s safe. At breakfast, I convinced him that the plastic "honey bear" bottle was invented in “olden times” as a way to teach kids that if you grab a bear and squeeze it real hard, honey will shoot out of its head.

Jacob as Role Model

2011-12-10T09:48:00.000-08:00

A d'var Torah delivered at the Vitas Jewish Outreach Advisory Board Meeting:

Of all the lives chronicled in the book of Genesis, Jacob’s is writ large across its pages. Our first view of him is as a fetus in his mother’s womb, striving with his twin Esau, and our last is of him blessing his children on his deathbed. We see him evolve from a slick little trickster into the father of the twelve tribes of Israel. Like Abraham and Isaac, he personally experiences God’s presence, but he also has many of the same life experiences that all of us do. He falls in love, works for a living, and becomes a father many times over.

Jacob lives his life largely. He makes some disastrous decisions, and pays for them. He deceives his brother Esau out of his birthright and then masquerades as Esau to trick his blind father into giving him the blessing of the firstborn. He is then made the victim of deception as his uncle Laban—a much more accomplished trickster than Jacob—also substitutes one sibling for another, giving him Leah as his wife in place of his true love, Rachel. He loves one son above the others, causing hatred between his children. He comes to know love and fear and jealousy, anger and shame and awe and heartbreak. He has encounters, good ones and bad ones, human and divine.

In this week’s Torah portion, Vayishlach, Jacob, returning to Canaan after his twenty years in Haran, has perhaps his most well-known encounter, with an unnamed divine being with whom he wrestles until daybreak, and over whom he finally prevails. He reconciles with his brother Esau, a meeting he anticipated with both dread and longing. Still later in the parashah, Jacob’s beloved Rachel dies giving birth to his last son, Benjamin, and only six verses later, we are told that Jacob went to his aged father Isaac at Hebron where, “Isaac was one hundred and eighty years old when he breathed his last and died”, and Jacob and Esau buried their father.

After the wrestling with the divine being, Jacob demands from him a blessing, and receives a new name, Israel, “for you have striven with beings divine and human and prevailed”. I believe that we could do far worse than to live life as our ancestor Jacob, who became Israel, lived it. Make mistakes and learn from them. Love and do not be afraid to be hurt by loving too well. Delve deeply and with passion into your relationships with God and with the people around you. In our work, we know all too well how short life can be and how much we cherish it when it is nearly gone. As we share Israel’s name, may we also share his legacy. Kein y’hi ratzon – so may it be God’s will.

From The Huffington Post

2011-12-08T21:34:00.000-08:00

But This Is Different: Why I Created a Fictitious Love Affair Between Amelia Earhart and Margaret Mead -- by Mary Walker Baron

In the push toward and pull away from cycles of social justice, same-sex relationships are closer than ever to becoming legally sanctioned on a national level. The pullback by religious and political conservatives across the land attest to the strength of those in the trenches of change steadfastly pushing toward that moment of ultimate equality. Despite all of our progress, though, teenagers are still bullied, often to the point of tragic death. And despite all of our progress, far too many men and women still grow old living secret lives on the margins of society. I am driven to give voice to those silenced by stigma.

With my novel, But This Is Different, I acknowledge and honor the struggle of any two women to find a place for their passion. While the story is fictional, the identities of my two women leap from history onto the pages of But This Is Different: Amelia Earhart and Margaret Mead. Fiction is all about plumbing the question, "What if?" to all possible depths and directions. A decade ago, without any noticeable preamble, the question, "What if Margaret Mead and Amelia Earhart were lovers?" etched itself into the very core of my being. That question was followed almost immediately by another: "What if Earhart's disappearance was a ruse carefully orchestrated by both women so that they could live together away from the world's prying and judging eyes?"

History could hardly claim that either Earhart or Mead was without voice. Decades after her disappearance Amelia Earhart continues to captivate. Decades after her death, Margaret Mead still informs. The story's irony is that with public voices heard even now throughout the world, their private voices were as silent as those of any couple loving the love that even now struggles for a name. The "what if" joining of these two women, improbable though it seemed, haunted me until I finally had to step wholeheartedly into their world and write my book.

My initial research stunned me. From her brief tenure at Columbia University until her disappearance somewhere between Lae, New Guinea, and Howland Island, Amelia Earhart and Margaret Mead were on a number of occasions in the same general locale at the same time. After the disappearance history documents in exacting detail Margaret Mead's many field trips to the South Pacific. During the final months of her life, Dr. Mead was visited frequently by a mysterious "healer" who disappeared when the iconic anthropologist died.

Even as I assured myself that But This Is Different was fiction born out of my imagination, I felt as though history was making room within itself for the story of two very famous women who just happened to, albeit fictionally, love each other. Of course, anyone who makes up a story must at least during the telling believe the story. And, of course, anyone witnessing the story must also, at least for the length of the story, believe it.

But This Is Different begins when Amelia Earhart is 80 years old. Amelia, or Mere, as she is known on the tiny, hidden island where she has lived in seclusion, is summoned to the bedside of the dying Margaret Mead and must decide whether or not to keep a promise made over 40 years earlier. By telling their story when both women are what society calls "old," I give voice to another all-too-often silent and silenced people. Moreover, because I am compelled to speak on behalf of the disenfranchised, But This Is Different also gives voice to our homeless, our veterans, and our mentally ill as its narrative guides us into a passion so intense that the oceans weep and the birds cease their singing.

Every compelling moment of But This Is Different takes place on an island. Islands, even the tropical paradises, separate us from the mainlands of our lives. Society's stigma can also exile us to emotional islands. A significant task individually and collectively should surely be bridging the oceans that separate us from each other and from ourselves.

I wrote But This Is Different not only to tell an amazing story but also to urge us all to dare to love and live with dignified courage, integrity, and commitment while honoring and discovering the very best humanity holds. Ultimately, then, we can, as did the Amelia Earhart of my imagination, sit in the cargo hold of a boat built from parts never intended to float and laugh because we know that all pure things the heart desires are ultimately possible.

My Pin Ball Machine Commute

2011-12-08T20:46:00.000-08:00

Infrastructure is just one of those words we hear but have trouble getting. The infrastructure of what?
Here's a definition from Wikipedia: Infrastructure is basic physical and organizational structures needed for the operation of a society or enterprise,[1] or the services and facilities necessary for an economy to function.[2] It can be generally defined as the set of interconnected structural elements that provide framework supporting an entire structure of development.
That helps.
So did this.
There are no longer any white lines separating the lanes on the 210 Freeway between Pasadena and Pomona. Well, there are a few here and there but not enough to make my commute any less bizarre and pin ball machine like. Seriously. For long stretches of the freeway there is absolutely no way to tell which lane you are in. I try to assume the vehicle in front of me is okay and so I follow it. So far this approach has worked.
This, in the scheme of things, shouldn't be that big of a deal to fix. And yet it's been going on for months and getting worse all the time.
Infrastructure = white paint.
Are we that broke?
Apparently.
And so tomorrow will be another pin ball machine commute to work and back.
Wish me luck.

No More Waiting

2011-12-07T20:18:00.000-08:00

Whenever I go somewhere with my boy, and there are a bunch of other dads there with their sons, I feel sorry for their wives. Does the threat "Wait ‘til your father gets home!" even exist anymore? Looking at a bunch of men dressed like they’re in a teen hip hop video with their hats on backwards and wearing a cinched-up pair of enormously baggy, khaki shorts, I can hear the wives yelling, “When your father gets home, you’re both grounded for a week!”

Hats Off To Hillary

2011-12-06T21:31:00.000-08:00

The following is the address given by Secretary of State Hillary Clinton commemorating Human Rights Day, delivered today in Geneva.

When They Came For Me There Was No One Left

2011-12-05T19:13:00.000-08:00

Just when we though the Republican clown car full of presidential hopefuls could not become any scarier, Stephen D. Foster Jr. reports this for addictinginfo.org.

Here's the headline:

Three GOP Presidential Candidates Sign Pledge To Investigate LGBT Community
August 16, 2011 - By Stephen D. Foster Jr.

And here's the article:

Get ready for another round of McCarthyism. Mitt Romney, Michele Bachmann, and Rick Santorum have all signed a pledge to form a commission to investigate the LGBT community if elected President. This pledge was created by the National Organization For Marriage, and they have a history of extreme views against homosexuals and anyone who votes to extend marriage rights to them.

The pledge reads as follows.

I, [candidate name], pledge to the American people that if elected President, I will:

[...] establish a presidential commission on religious liberty to investigate and document reports of Americans who have been harassed or threatened for exercising key civil rights to organize, to speak, to donate or to vote for marriage and to propose new protections, if needed.

In other words, the extreme right wing is going to persecute homosexuals on a whole new level if they have power after the 2012 Election. Homosexuals and supporters of marriage equality will be intimidated, interrogated, and stripped of their right to speak freely. The religious right wing has been allowed to push their un-American and unconstitutional agenda for far too long. Americans must push back. If we continue to do nothing, we could all be persecuted by this fanatical group.

When stuff like this is going on I think its essential to remember the words of Pastor Martin Niemoller:

First they came for the communists,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a communist.

Then they came for the trade unionists,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Jews,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a Jew.

Then they came for me
and there was no one left to speak out for me.

Whenever we first see injustice I believe we are duty bound to speak out and not be content to believe that someone else will do the talking for us.

Who Took The First Step To Solve This Problem?

2011-12-04T03:00:00.000-08:00

If we follow the hearts of our children we might just get to where we need to be.

Super Hero Saturday

2011-12-03T14:53:00.000-08:00

The boy and I decided we’re feeling super lazy this morning. Which is very much like normal lazy, but we’re also wearing capes. So, for the rest of the morning, please refer to us as, "Super Sloth, and his faithful ward, Lethargic Lad" (just don't ask us to solve any crimes or catch anybody beyond our reach).

We Were Graced

2011-12-02T19:12:00.000-08:00

I went there as part of my work day. A program I supervise was starting a support group on the premises. I expected to check out a room and - if it was appropriate for the group - give it my okay and head back to my office. I did not expect to be moved and inspired and motivated to do more and give more of myself and my own resources.
And so it was that early this morning I parked outside the Pomona Valley Christian Center on the corner of Garey and Ninth Streets in Pomona. To get inside the church I had to wind my way through a crowd of the down and out -- men, women, dogs, shopping carts filled with worldly possessions, plastic trash bags containing the rest of the worldly possessions. They were all waiting for breakfast.

Inside, I was introduced to Bishop Herbert S. Wilkins. He was flipping pan cakes -- hundreds of pan cakes. And he seemed so happy.
Last month this little church served one thousand six hundred eleven meals. The month before, it served one thousand four hundred twenty-four meals. On Thanksgiving day the church fed over one thousand people a sit down holiday meal.
On this day everyone got a plate of three pan cakes and a sausage. Everyone. When I was offered one of the last plates (everyone else had eaten), I sat down and ate. I enjoyed every bite I took in large part because that meal symbolized more than hot cakes and syrup. It symbolized the nourishment and the hope this little church provides every day proving that flour and milk and baking soda can become sacred.
Day in and day out anyone who is hungry can get a meal or two a day at this little church. No questions asked. "We were graced with a Muslim family on Thanksgiving day," a man holding a tray of plates told me.
We were graced.
The only place for our group was the sanctuary and it told the story of the church's mission. On one wall there was a large cross. On the other wall there was a large refrigerator.
I can't imagine a more appropriate place for people to gather for a group offering a different kind of support and nourishment.
We Were Graced.

Don't Forget That It's Still Here

2011-12-01T15:18:00.000-08:00

Today is World AIDS Day.

World AIDS Day this year is about “Getting to Zero.” Zero New HIV Infections.
Zero Discrimination and Zero AIDS Related Deaths.

Many More Miles Than Steps

2011-11-28T19:08:00.000-08:00

During the past week I have traveled over six thousand miles taking no more than five thousand steps. Travel these days is interesting in more ways than that bit of mundane information. We are a people on the go and will put up with practically any inconvenience or humiliation to get to wherever it is we need or want to go. Today I flew with several screaming babies. Perhaps it was the free Scotch but I didn't find them irritating. Instead, I wanted to comfort their parent(s) who must have felt quite tense about the whole thing. As for me, I simply turned up the volume on my iPod and enjoyed the flight. And the Scotch.

Miracles Still Happen

2011-11-23T19:07:00.000-08:00

So there I was in my aisle seat on the Jet Blue flight boarding at Burbank about to head to New York. The passengers filed in and the cabin filled. The guy taking the window seat in my row settled in and fell immediately to sleep. And still passengers searched for over head space and still the cabin filled until finally the door closed and the cell phones became silent. Only then did I allow that big exhale because finally I knew that the middle seat was empty. All the way across the country just me and the snoring guy next to the window. You see? Jet Blue is one amazing airline!

He's Eleven Now

2011-11-23T19:02:00.000-08:00

When he was ten Joey Fisher told his parents he wanted to buy a car. Their answer was that he should start saving his money. And so Joey started his business -- Kookies by Kidz.

Hi!

I'm Joey and I am the owner of Kookies by Kidz!

I started Kookies by Kidz when I was 10. Now my friends and I bake all sorts of things and ship them all over the United States!

I started out with everything costing $5. Now I have expanded the choices so prices vary a little bit.

Also, since everyone has been so nice and bought my stuff I have decided that I am going to start giving some money to charity. I haven't figured out which one yet but when I do, I will post it.

Check out Joey's business at

http://www.kookies bykidz.com

and discover this amazing young man for yourself.

An Appeal from AARP

2011-11-20T12:24:00.000-08:00

This from AARP:

Do you know where you'll be eating your Thanksgiving dinner? Chances are, there's a senior in Los Angeles who doesn't know if they'll be eating dinner at all on Thanksgiving – or the days that follow.

There are nearly 9 million older Americans who wake up in the morning and don't know if they'll get enough to eat. You can change that.

This Thanksgiving, help a senior in Los Angeles who's struggling to find their next meal. Every penny you give will go directly to hunger relief organizations in Los Angeles.

Make your tax-deductible donation by November 22 and help AARP Foundation raise $35,000 to combat hunger.

With your support, we can reach older Americans who won't get the nutrients they need without a helping hand. Through our targeted, community-based programs, AARP Foundation will use 100% of your donation to help with local food assistance programs. Senior hunger is a threat close to home and your gift today will make a difference for real people struggling just around the corner from you.

Right now, hungry seniors in Los Angeles need your help. Will you step up to lend them a hand?

Give older Americans facing hunger a reason to be hopeful this Thanksgiving by making your urgent tax-deductible donation to AARP Foundation.

Thank you for helping seniors facing hunger, and standing with us as we help seniors facing other challenges, such as housing, income and isolation.

The Trucks Are Back

2011-11-17T20:48:00.000-08:00

I've been noticing a lot more trucks on the freeway both going to work and coming home from work. At first I was irritated. There is nothing fun about feeling stuck between two eighteen wheelers -- one on my right and one on my left. It's hard to get around these trucks and often they can't keep up with the pace of traffic.
Today, though, I think I got it.
There are more trucks on the freeway because the country is coming back to life. People are being paid to drive those trucks and the trucks are hauling stuff to grocery or furniture or clothing stores. Or they are moving people from one place to another and if a person or family can afford a moving van then they are probably moving because of work.
I still don't like feeling stuck between big trucks but I've changed the way I'm thinking about the whole thing and I've decided that this is wonderful.
See, it's all in our heads to begin with so we may as well make it wonderful.

Never Doubt That You Can Change The World

2011-11-15T05:42:00.000-08:00

When Margaret Mead died on November 15 in 1978, she was the most famous anthropologist in the world. Indeed, it was through her work that many people learned about anthropology and its holistic vision of the human species.

Mead was born in Philadelphia on December 16, 1901 in a household of social scientists with roots in the Midwest. Her major at Barnard was psychology, but she went on to earn a doctorate at Columbia, studying with Franz Boas and Ruth Benedict. For her, anthropology was an urgent calling, a way to bring new understandings of human behavior to bear on the future. In 1925 she set out for American Samoa, where she did her first field work, focusing on adolescent girls, and in 1929 she went, accompanied by her second husband, Reo Fortune, to Manus Island in New Guinea, where she studied the play and imaginations of younger children and the way they were shaped by adult society.

-- The words above are from The Institute for Intercultural Studies

We need role models now more than ever. For most of my life, Dr. Mead - even though I never met her - has filled that role for me. The night before she died, I have read, she acknowledged to an attending nurse that she (Mead) was dying. To the nurse's comment that death is a natural part of life, Dr. Mead replied, "But this is different."

Occupancy...welcome?...

2011-11-13T21:24:00.000-08:00

"I feel like I'm in a box, like the walls are closing in."
She was near tears while talking to me, this coming from a person who has done amazing things in her career including saving lives. A few days earlier she was provided with, for the first time that she could remember, a verbal reprimand. Her comments were consistent with this recent stress, which is currently causing her to feel a sense of claustrophobia. Yet it did not stop there. She described her concerns about "the other shoe dropping." The other shoe being her termination or worse...or neither... but surely it is going to happen. I mean, she is positive of it.
"My back hurts. I'm exhausted. I don't even want to go anywhere. I have been crying and and I know I'm irritable, but I can't let them get the best of me."
Not only do they have her best, they have her worst and everything in between. Clearly the other shoe has taken up an address in her future and she is already reaping the benefits...err... the stress of it now -- physically, emotionally and behaviorally. I clarified "them" to be her supervisors. I asked her directly how much she thinks these people really think about her in any given day at any given time. ...pause...then "not much."
I validated (for the purposes of this conversation, I am "allowed" to validate) this. Then I dropped the shoe, not quite the one she was expecting. I asked her how much time she spends thinking about them.
"A lot."
Heck. I dug deeper and I asked what the price tag is for the rental space they are taking up in her head.
"What?"
Well, yes. They are sitting on your couch, watching your TV and enjoying various snacks and beverages from your kitchen in your head... oh they don't pay rent? Confused look.
"Oh my god! You're right!!"
Insert eviction process.
"I don't know how to get them out of my head".
I suggested the same way she let them in, through the door, right?
Okay, fair enough easier said than done. But I suggested that while she has no control of the actual "other shoe" dropping, she has control of her responsibilities and carrying them out at work and then doing a mental purge as it were to get through the rest of the day. Because she has sole ownership of her time away from "the place."
"Go out and do something fun," I suggested.
"I don't even want to go to my friend's 50th birthday party tomorrow."
I pointed out what a great opportunity it will be for her superiors to soil her couch, you know, the rent free one they occupy in her head because clearly they don't want her to go. Stay hone and let them win.
Another epiphany -- this time with a pronounced smile.
Her tune changed.
"I'm going to the party."
Suddenly she returned to the present and dismissed her unwanted guests because she realized that the shoe is going to drop on all of us in one way or another. How much time we spend abusing ourselves waiting for it is completely optional.

Not Quite There Yet!

2011-11-13T21:06:00.000-08:00

After careful assessment and some fairly complicated calculations, I've come to the conclusion that I am at my wit's middle, which should mean nothing much can bother me, today. (However, on a side note, am I the only one who thinks that the word "assessment" is using more than it's share of S's? I'm going to look into this and get back to you. PS: This observation just elevated my "Wit Level" to "orange.")

Now, who's really suffering?

2011-11-11T21:58:00.000-08:00

Today's L.A. Times sports section reported that the NBA player/owner talks are at an impasse. The players are very, very unhappy about the fact that they are being asked to share their outsize salaries with the owners of their teams.

A few weeks ago, we traveled to New Jersey. On the way to the airport, we had a conversation with our car-service driver. He was upset about the NBA lockout, then only a few days old. "Think about it", he said "I usually get a lot of business driving customers to Lakers games at Staples Center. People don't want to worry about parking, or about having a few drinks at the game. I'm going to lose all that business. But that's not all. What about all the bars and restaurants near Staples Center? What about the hotels for the visiting teams and tourists who come to games? What about the maintenance men, and the people who wash the team's uniforms? What about the souvenir shops and concession stands? Now, multiply that by how many cities have NBA teams, and how many people are hurting for work? Is this what we need in the middle of a recession?"

Wise words, and ones that I think of every time I read about this ridiculous lockout. Gentlemen of the NBA, if you didn't have your athletic talents, you'd be the ones tending bar and driving limos. Remember that when you're negotiating for another slice of the billions.

He Didn't Make It Back

2011-11-11T21:06:00.000-08:00

Sgt. Jerry Walker died in the South Pacific at the age of nineteen years when World War II was almost over. I never met him and yet how could I or anyone forget that face now faded inside its frame and refusing to be mocked by the continued insanity of war.
Hate the horror of war. Honor the brave young warriors.

11 11 11

2011-11-11T20:58:00.000-08:00

It won't happen again for another hundred years. Neither will 1 1 1 or 2 2 2 or 3 3 3 or 4 4 4 or 5 5 5 or 6 6 6 or 7 7 7 or 8 8 8 or 9 9 9 or 10 10 10. Of course this month we already had a 11 1 11. That won't happen for another hundred years either.
On the other hand the moment of insight I witnessed with the client sitting across the office from me can never be repeated. Not even in a hundred years. Or for that matter neither can the smell of the rain coming our way. Every rain has its own smell and that, also, can never be repeated.
Therefore, might we assume that every moment of every day is a once in a life time event?
I'm thinking YES!
So enjoy.

Basset Blues

2011-11-10T18:39:00.000-08:00

After about a million dollars worth of medications and testings, we now know that our Basset Hound is allergic to dust mites. What, you say? Yeah, dust mites. Apparently he is not alone in his allergy. Dust mites, it seems, are the most common type of allergy and, in fact, about 70% of all allergies are caused by dust mites. I'm not sure if that percentage includes Basset Hounds but I do get the picture that dust mites account for a lot of scratching and sneezing.
Dust mites are microscipic, eight-legged, wingless bugs. They are related to spiders and scorpions. I'm hoping that the relationship to scorpions is just by marriage and that the marriage ended in divorce eons ago.
At any rate, Bradford is allergic to these creatures.

Apparently dust mites are all over the place. However, their very favorite places to hang out are wherever humans hang out. They like our homes and especially they like our furniture, our carpeting, our beds (dog beds included), and even our flaky, dead skin that we shed by the ton as we walk blissfully through our homes.
Possible solutions to the dust mite allergy?
Well, Bradford will be getting injections to help him battle his own dust mite demons. We will be buying a Dyson vacuum cleaner. What better reason than an allergic Basset Hound? We will also be hiring some service to clean our heating/air conditioning ducts. And if all of that fails we will be moving to an igloo in Alaska just across the street from the Palin mansion. Then we will really have vermin to talk about.
Details later.

Thank You Mississippi

2011-11-09T21:10:00.000-08:00

It's easy to joke about an embryo working at McDonalds or voting in the election for school board because at the heart of the Mississippi ballot measure was the absurd notion that a fertilized egg is a person. And hopefully all get it that a fertilized egg is not a viable life. Not in any species. The fact that this measure even made it to an election, however, is terrifying. Even more terrifying is the fact that people -- some but not enough people to pass it -- voted in favor of the measure.
Had it by some fluke of all that is sane passed, the death knoll for legalized abortion, for the right of a woman to choose what does or doesn't grow inside of her would have begun sounding.
I grew up in the era of coat hanger, back alley illegal abortions. They weren't pretty and a lot of young women and older women died because of those procedures.
We can define life as beginning at any moment we choose. That doesn't mean that our definition will be accurate or even sane. It might mean, though, that we are driven my some self righteous sense or moral entitlement to decide that we should be able to control the right of a woman to choose.
Thank you, Mississippi, for refusing to take away that right at least for now.

This from the Washington Post --

Wednesday, November 9, 1:40 PM

Amendment 26, the anti-abortion “personhood’ measure on the ballot in Mississippi failed to win enough votes for adoption on Tuesday. As Aaron Blake reported:
A constitutional amendment that would have defined a fertilized egg as a person failed on the ballot in Mississippi on Tuesday, dealing the so-called “personhood” movement another blow.

The state votes on the "personhood" amendment, which would designate a fertilized egg as a person.

Mississippi would have become the first state to define a fertilized egg as a person, a measure which was aimed at outlawing abortion in the state but, opponents contended, would have led to all kinds of unintended consequences.

Let's Have Some Quiet

2011-11-08T22:10:00.000-08:00

When did everyone start playing music everywhere?
I figure someone must have done a study that showed that people are more relaxed, more friendly or more willing to buy things when they are hearing music. As a result, you can't walk into a coffee shop or a department store without music playing. At the Americana at Brand, a large shopping area in Glendale California which is designed to look like a (phony) village square, they have loudspeakers set up in the outdoor areas which carry the sound to nearby Brand Boulevard so that when you drive by you get a blast of music to take with you, whether you wanted it or not.
Yesterday, I was in a nursing home and tried to take a phone call. I realized that I could not hear the caller because there was music playing on the overhead speakers. Loud music. In a nursing home. You'd think that the elderly people in there had heard enough noise in their lives, and could use a little quiet for a change. I certainly could.

This Just In - People Should Be Treated With Respect Regardless Of ...

2011-11-08T15:33:00.000-08:00

Seriously, should this be new information? Shouldn't hospitals have been treating everyone with equal respect and dignity all along? Perhaps I am just a naive idealist after all.

Advancing Effective Communication, Cultural Competence, and Patient- and Family-Centered Care for the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender (LGBT) Community

A Field Guide

November 8, 2011

A new field guide from the Joint Commission urges US hospitals to create a more welcoming, safe, and inclusive environment that contributes to improved health care quality for lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) patients and their families. The field guide features a compilation of strategies, practice examples, resources, and testimonials designed to help hospitals in their efforts to improve communication and provide more patient-centered care to their LGBT patients. The guide, Advancing Effective Communication, Cultural Competence, and Patient- and Family Centered Care for the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender (LGBT) Community, was developed with support from the California Endowment and is available for free download.

It Just Gets More Different

2011-11-06T20:32:00.000-08:00

My father would have been 99 years old today had he not died 41 years ago. Each year I imagine what he would be like if he were still alive. This is the first year I've really considered that, were he still alive, he would be old enough to die at an old age. Of course, he didn't die at an old age but, instead, at a remarkably young age. He didn't die with his boots on nor did he die wearing his hat. Nevertheless, at the moment of his death I know that he tipped his hat back on his head, smiled his eye twinkling smile, and turned his horse toward the horizon.
After all, Daddy was a cowboy.

His memory is a blessing.

Basset Hound Picnic In The Park

2011-11-06T12:37:00.000-08:00

Now That I've Gotten It Back

2011-11-06T11:31:00.000-08:00

What will it do with it?
In the middle of last night I got that hour back I was forced to give up last Spring. So today I've got twenty-five hours in my day. One hour more to live? Or is it just a wash because of, you know. last Spring.
I really admire Arizona and Hawaii. They leave their clocks alone.
I've forgotten why we don't do the same.

Before And After 1957

2011-11-04T20:59:00.000-07:00

'In God We Trust' was adopted as the official motto of the United States in 1956. The phrase first appeared on U.S. coins in 1864 and on U.S. currency in 1957.
The phrase was placed on coins because of heightened religious fervor during the Civil War. On July 11, 1954, just a month after the phrase 'under God' was inserted into the Pledge of Allegiance, the U. S. Congress enacted Public Law 84-140 which required the motto to be placed on all coins and currency. The law was approved by President Dwight D. Eisenhower on July 30, 1956, and the motto was progressively added to paper money. The phrase was, by law, declared the national motto.

So there goes any semblance that there will ever again if there ever was to begin with separation between church and state.
I get that. What I don't get is why Congress wasted time voting to reemphasize that this motto appears on all United States coins and currency after all of that was said and done in the 1950s. Why indeed when our bridges are collapsing, our roads are crumbling, and the hope for better times crumbling.

Like a Thief in the Night

2011-11-02T22:43:00.000-07:00

The Chick-fil-A restaurant in Anderson, South Carolina, is offering a reward for its stolen cow. I fear the cow will be dead by the time someone returns it. You see, it's a topiary cow. At any rate, the reward is free Chick-fil-A sandwiches for a year.
Only the feet, the restaurant says, were left.
Several things about this caper trouble me. The least troubling aspect is that cows don't have feet but, then, how could we expect a restaurant selling chicken to know that a cow has hoofs.
Here's the next troubling thing. Take a look at one of the restaurant's many logos:

Cows don't really wear slippers and can spell much better than this logo would indicate. They do, however, curl their hair.
Neither of those items bothers me nearly as much as the fact that someone stole my idea of starting the Topiary Liberation Society. Clearly the topiary was liberated and not stolen. The only thing here that was stolen was, obviously, my idea.
I hate topiary. It is a completely useless thing to do with a plant and a totally insulating thing to force a plant to look like something it isn't. Don't we get too much of that just getting through the day? I mean, we are forced to act like we care when we don't. We're forced to pretend we're reading importing messages during the dull meeting instead of playing Angry Birds.
So my idea was to form the Topiary Liberation Society and go around liberating those imprisoned plants. Because we, too, are like topiary forced to be what we aren't. Or something like that. I'm still working that part out but now why bother? Huh?
Because someone stole my idea.
To hell with the missing cow. Give me back my idea.

Her Bridge Is Fixed

2011-11-01T22:05:00.000-07:00

Okay. I get it that I did not create a woman named Amelia Earhart. She existed long before I wrote my novel But This Is Different. I did, however, create a fascinating possibility.
And lately it seems that her name is cropping up more than ever before. I'm thinking its because my novel is stirring the waters of time and history is making room in itself for a woman named Mere who chose to keep a commitment made forty years before But This Is Different begins.
Read the book and decide for yourself.
------------------------------------------------------
This from the St. Joseph, Missouri, News-Press:
REPAIRS COMPLETE ON AMELIA EARHART BRIDGE
ATCHISON, Kan. — Several weeks of complete and partial closings of the Amelia Earhart Bridge in northeast Kansas are over.
The bridge carries U.S. 59 over the Missouri River between Atchison, Kan., and Winthrop, Mo., about 20 miles south of St. Joseph.Heavy flooding on the Missouri closed the bridge for part of the summer. That was followed by a major repair project that began in late September, reducing traffic to a single lane.The work was expected to take until mid-December, but the Kansas Department of Transportation says the project has been completed and all lanes were back open on Tuesday.

I Truly Did Not See This Coming

2011-10-31T15:13:00.000-07:00

Seriously. I really didn't. But then, I really didn't see the wedding coming and for that matter had no idea who these people were or what they did with their time. Research revealed that there truly isn't much of anything they do with their time. I still don't know who they are.
However, our FaceBookFriend contributor - always with a thumb on the social pulse of the country - has summed up the situation in his usual succinct manner.
Read on.

For Those Who Care

2011-10-31T15:03:00.000-07:00

I’ll put this as delicately as possible: The sacred institution of hetero-marriage is, once again, begging for mercy at the receiving end of another blessed and fully-sanctioned, albeit bloody and completely predictable, “irreconcilable” bludgeoning. Taylor Lautner’s roided-up doppelganger has been served divorce papers 72 days after his grotesquely ostentatious betrothal to butt-buggled nut-rest, Kim “Does-this-look-like-a-rash”ian. Try to contain your surprise.

Too Good To Be True

2011-10-26T22:10:00.000-07:00

I get Google News Alerts about Amelia Earhart because, frankly, we just can't let go of her story.
Here's the latest alert.

Amelia Rose Earhart is a namesake and distant relative of the original Amelia Earhart. She is a private pilot, flying the Cirrus SR-20 at Independence Aviation at Centennial Airport in Denver, Colorado. She is a reporter at KUSA, the local NBC affiliate where she reports on traffic and breaking news. Amelia has worked as an aerial reporter and HD Cineflex camera operator in both Denver and Los Angeles where she covered everything from police chases to wildfires. Amelia is now a student of Meteorology at Mississippi State University and will be certified by the National Weather Association within the next two years.

Amelia’s life long goal is to retrace and complete Amelia Earhart’s 1937 round the world flight. She is currently working on her instrument rating at KAPA. She plans on embarking on her trip by the year 2016.

While this distant relative might complete the flight, will she wait forty years to keep a promise?

Not unless she reads But This Different and finds out how its really done.

Basset Hound Picnic In The Park

2011-10-25T20:45:00.000-07:00

Basset Hound Picnic In The Park

2011-10-24T16:50:00.000-07:00

No More Ice Cream Cones For Me

2011-10-24T16:37:00.000-07:00

I've been trying to cut down the level of stress in my life and so from time to time I am able too identify a specific source of stress and then I address it.
The source of stress doesn't have to be a major part of my life but every little bit helps.
Once or twice a year I like to have some ice cream. Actually, I'd like to have some ice cream once or twice a day but I really to get it that such a habit would not, in the long run, be positive in any way.
So for me ice cream is a very occasional treat.
You might reasonably be asking what I find stressful about this behavior.
Ever try eating an ice cream cone on a hot day?
Talk about stress.
Solution?
Buy it in a cup or dish. If you must have a cone, get the cone separate.
See? You really can reduce stress in your life.
I am wise beyond my years.

Basset Hound Picnic In The Park

2011-10-23T21:47:00.000-07:00

Basset Hound Picnic In The Park

2011-10-23T21:37:00.000-07:00

Basset Hound Picnic In The Park

2011-10-23T21:32:00.000-07:00

Basset Hound Picnic In The Park

2011-10-23T21:27:00.000-07:00

Basset Hound Picnic In The Park

2011-10-23T21:21:00.000-07:00

Basset Hound Picnic In The Park

2011-10-23T21:16:00.000-07:00

Basset Hound Picnic In The Park

2011-10-23T21:08:00.000-07:00

Basset Hound Picnic In The Park

2011-10-23T21:02:00.000-07:00

Finally Picnic Day

2011-10-23T20:50:00.000-07:00

Today was the long awaited picnic of the Southern California Basset Club. Imagine it! A couple hundred Basset Hounds in one park. And no fighting. The United Nations could take a hint.

For more information about the Basset Hound Club go to

http://www.bhcsc.com/BHCSC/Welcome.html

And for more pictures of the picnic go to

http://www.bhcsc.com/BHCSC/Basset_Hound_Picnic_2011.html

You won't be sorry.

Flying First Class

2011-10-23T20:36:00.000-07:00

Because the circumstances demanded it, we flew first class from Newark to Los Angeles just about a week ago. It was great. Free Scotch, free wine, free steak, free baggage check, free ..... wait a second. We paid for those free tickets. We paid a lot for those three tickets because we didn't want a ninety-three year old man stuck in steerage.
Here's what I learned from flying first class across the country.
First, remember that I am an extremely nervous flyer. I have a variety of people saying they are holding up the plane for me. I rarely relax even with those reassurances.
Trust me. Flying first class I relaxed. The seat extended into a bed. I slept. I was waited on and coddled and given all the attention two flight attendants could give all sixteen of us in first class.
What did I learn besides the fact that money buys attention?
I learned that when people (or least when I) feel tended to there is a whole lot less room for fear. That's what I learned in first class.
Somehow when I'm tossed into economy class where everything costs money, where there isn't even enough leg room to reach under the seat in front of me and pull out my skinny little back pack and where, by behavior and manner, no one gives a flying fuck about me I just don't feel quite as safe.
Okay. Let's expand that from the tin can carrying me across the country to society at large.
How much does it cost, seriously, to at least pretend that we care about people who, for example, live in unremitting poverty?
Might they feel a little safer if they believed that someone out there/here would tend to them if they needed it?
It's just a thought that I thought while flying first class. I can't imagine the flight attendants cared one whit about me but they were paid to pretend. And I paid to have them pretend.
And I wasn't afraid. Not once during that long flight.
Caring or pretending to care doesn't cost anything.
I will give this more thought but for now I will stick with feeling care for reduces fear.
More later.

Some Things Will Never Change

2011-10-23T20:23:00.000-07:00

Niko was using this big spatula thing to help pass out the odd mixture of snacks and pastries provided by the parents at tonight's cub scout meeting. I followed him out of the kitchen saying, "Careful with the puffy ones, and don't get your thing dirty." Which is exactly what I'll be telling him when he goes away to college.

Fire Drills

2011-10-23T20:22:00.000-07:00

I've got to make up a bunch of training hours, so I got up early today to knock some out through our online training site. However, I think it was a waste of time, because I just failed my Health and Safety test. Apparently, when they ask you,"In the event of a fire, what steps would you take?" "F**kin' large ones" is not an appreciated answer.

Hi, Lindsay!

2011-10-23T20:20:00.000-07:00

Dank-clappered, yeast-frothing, ripe-fouling skank’s-mate, Lindsay Lohan, has been, once again, taken into custody for violating her Court Ordered community service. Obviously, for me, the best part of this news is that I get to use some of the neologisms I’ve been working on while she was out of the news. Welcome back, canker-blossom! I’ve missed you, you queef-snouted, societal mold-wart.

Just Part of Parenting - Only More So!

2011-10-23T20:19:00.000-07:00

There isn't anything related to Halloween or horror movies that manages to scare me anymore. But, being awakened at 7:20 on a Sunday morning by the boy yelling from his bathroom, "Daddy! Come here! HURRY!!" took five years off my life.

Back From Break

2011-10-23T20:18:00.001-07:00

We at WitsEndMagazine took a break while we moved an elderly family member from the east coast to the west coast. No small task when you are ninety-three years old, no longer able to walk independently, almost completely blind, and extremely hearing impaired. He is perhaps the bravest person I know. So, for those of you who might have wondered where we were, that's where we were. Details to follows.

Or Were They Asking For Help?

2011-10-09T16:19:00.000-07:00

So The Post Office Broke The Law

2011-10-09T16:17:00.000-07:00

The American flag isn't just some material colored red, white, and blue tied to a stick. I'm no flag waver in any sense of the word but I do care about how our flag is treated. So should others and especially the United States Post Office if for no other reason that it is charged by The Flag Code to treat 'Old Glory' with legal and formal respect.

The 'What' Code?

Previous to Flag Day, June 14, 1923 there were no federal or state regulations governing display of the United States Flag. It was on this date that the National Flag Code was adopted by the National Flag Conference which was attended by representatives of the Army and Navy which had evolved their own procedures, and some 66 other national groups. This purpose of providing guidance based on the Army and Navy procedures relating to display and associated questions about the U. S. Flag was adopted by all organizations in attendance. Each state is charged with enforcing these codes.

Federal law stipulates many aspects of flag etiquette. The section of law dealing with American Flag etiquette is generally referred to as the Flag Code. Here are some general guidelines from that code:

The flag should be lighted at all times, either by sunlight or by an appropriate light source. The flag should be flown in fair weather, unless the flag is designed for inclement weather use. The flag should never be dipped to any person or thing. It is flown upside down only as a distress signal. The flag should not be used for any decoration in general. Bunting of blue, white and red stripes is available for these purposes. The blue stripe of the bunting should be on the top. The flag should never be used for any advertising purpose. It should not be embroidered, printed or otherwise impressed on such articles as cushions, handkerchiefs, napkins, boxes, or anything intended to be discarded after temporary use. Advertising signs should not be attached to the staff or halyard. The flag should not be used as part of a costume or athletic uniform, except that a flag patch may be used on the uniform of military personnel, fireman, policeman and members of patriotic organizations.

The flag should never have any mark, insignia, letter, word, number, figure, or drawing of any kind placed on it, or attached to it. The flag should never be used for receiving, holding, carrying, or delivering anything. When the flag is lowered, no part of it should touch the ground or any other object; it should be received by waiting hands and arms. To store the flag it should be folded neatly and ceremoniously. The flag should be cleaned and mended when necessary.

When a flag is so worn it is no longer fit to serve as a symbol of our country, it should be destroyed by burning in a dignified manner.

Now, don't get me wrong. This isn't an article about flag etiquette since some of that information was necessary if the following is to have any meaning.

The other day we went to the a branch of the Glendale Post Office to mail a letter. Seemed simple enough. It was. But when we started to drive away, we saw the flag pictured above. It screamed urgency to us. We went inside and informed the clerk that the flag was upside down. The clerk assured us that supervisor would be immediately notified. Almost two hours later we drove by to check on the flag and it was still upside down.

There are only two possibilities to explain this situation:

The supervisor at the Post Office branch and the clerk and all others within hearing distance either don't care about the flag or don't know why it shouldn't be flown upside down.

Or, probably the most likely explanation, inside the Post Office branch was a hostage situation and one person of the company of the hostages was allowed to raise the flag because (since it was an early morning hostage situation) not raising it would attract too much attention. The flag raising person knew all about flag etiquette, flew the flag upside down knowing that the first person to see it would call the police and everyone would be saved. Little did that person think that no one would notice until early afternoon and then simply use it as one more reason to complain about the Post Office.

And so that's why it's important to know flag etiquette.

If Wishes Were Horses

2011-10-09T15:38:00.000-07:00

Sermon Delivered To

Congregation Etz Chaim Ramona

October 8^th, 2011

When You Wish Upon A Star

When you wish upon a star
Makes no difference who you are
Anything your heart desires
Will come to you.

Like a bolt out of the blue
Fate steps in and sees you through
When you wish upon a star
Your dreams come true.

If your heart is in your dream
No request is too extreme
When you wish upon a star
As dreamers do.

Like a bolt out of the blue
Fate steps in and sees you through
When you wish upon a star
Your dreams come true.

And so, having made my wish upon a star all I apparently have to do – if my heart is in the right place – is sit back and wait because anything my heart desires will come to me simply because I placed a wish. How long I sit back and wait depends on the urgency of the wish and the length of my memory. Some of those upon a star wishes I forget about shortly after making them. Others I may spend years or a lifetime sitting back wondering why, since my heart was in the right place, my wish has yet to come true.

We are taught early on to make wishes. Even if we couldn’t actually blow out the candles on our first birthday cake without help we started getting the message that making wishes were expected life activities. To not make a wish before blowing out the birthday candles is beyond both imagination and expectation. However, just in case we suspect that the candles may not be sufficient talisman, society has given us a plethora of other sanctioned vehicles for making our dreams come true. In fact, when I did an Internet search of ‘things people wish on’ I got three billion eight hundred sixty million Google hits. Here are a few -- in alphabetical order -- of the more popular things upon which we place our hopes, our dreams, and all too often our futures:

Acorns – If you are standing under an oak tree and an acorn falls, pick it up, turn around three times and then make your wish. To increase the probability of your wish coming true, put that same acorn on your windowsill for three days. Then it will really come true even though it was supposed to come true when it fell off the tree and you picked it up and did the other stuff.
Birthday Candles – We are all familiar with this ritual. Don’t forget that all the candles have to be blown out in one breath for the wish to come true. This is probably the best-known wishing method, and also the strongest, as it only comes once a year. This is not a wish you should waste on something like "I wish the guy at Starbucks remembers my extra foam tomorrow."
Books -- If you drop a book, step on it with one foot and make your wish. However you must remember to pick it up with the hand opposite the foot you used, or your wish will not be granted.
Coins (and Wells) -- Throw your coin into the well and make your wish. It is said that the larger the value of the coin thrown in the stronger the wish may be.
Dandelions – Find a dandelion that has gone to see. Make your wish, then try to blow all the down off it in one breath. If you get it all off in one puff, your wish will come true.
Eyelashes -- When you find an eye-lash that has fallen out, place it on your fingertip and blow it away while making your wish.
Falling Stars – Walt Disney taught us all about this. This is a nice wish, because multiple people can wish on the same star. The only rule is that you must see the star yourself.
Hay – If we see a truck hauling bales of hay we are expect to make a wish on the load of livestock feed.
Jockeys -- If you happen to see a jockey wearing his racing silks while away from the racing track you are entitled to make one wish.
The Moon -- Wishing on the moon is a sub-category of the birthday wish. On the evening of your birthday look towards the full-moon and make a wish.
Necklace Clasps – When the clasp on your necklace is turned all the way around to the front, someone else can turn it back for you and tell you to make a wish.
This doesn't work if you do it for yourself.
Pennies -- If you find a penny on the ground, pick it up and throw it as far as you can. If you finish making your wish before the penny hits the ground, your wish will come true!
Rainbows – Apparently there’s not much wish ritual around rainbows. Just make your wish and, apparently, sit back.
The First Star – Since this happens every day, we can get a lot of practice at it. Here’s the only rule: When you see the first star that appears in the night sky, you must recite this rhyme:
Star light, star bright
First star I see tonight
I wish I may, I wish I might
Have the wish I wish tonight.
White Horses – When you see a white horse you are entitled to make a wish, but for your wish to come true you must make it before you see the horses tail.
Generally, the larger the bird, the stronger the wish. This wish takes some preparation, as you have to let the wishbone dry out before using it. Overnight is usually good enough, although if you're in a hurry you could put it in a low oven for a few hours. Once the wishbone is dry, get someone else to hold one end while you hold the other. Close your eyes and make a wish, then pull apart the wishbone on the count of three. Whoever gets the larger piece has their wish come true. In the extremely unlikely event that the pieces are equal, both wishes come true.
Yawning – When you see a person yawn you get to make a wish if you manage to not yawn. There doesn’t seem to be a time limit on how long you have to keep from yawning before making the wish.
Zoos -- When visiting a zoo you may make a wish if you walk through the entrance backwards. For the wish to come true you also have to walk backwards when you leave the zoo.

And the list goes on to include wishing on dew, earrings, sneezes, toes, underwear, words spoken together, snowflakes, pizza, yawns and even Josef Stalin. Every time two people accidentally say the phrase, “Josef Stalin, Father of the Russian people,” at exactly the same time, the person who shouts “Gulag!” the fastest gets to wish for anything he or she desires. Seriously? Yes! Just as seriously as the wish we make before we blow out our birthday candles all in one breath. Wishing is, after all, very serious business.

When we’re not making wishes on our own behalf we are extending wishes to others. As recently as a few hours ago we wished each other ‘Shannah Tovah’ or ‘Hag Sameach’ or G’mar Hatimah Tovah’ – ‘A good new year’ or ‘A happy holiday’ or ‘May the final inscription be for good’.

We are, it seems, constantly wishing for something either for ourselves or for someone else.

· I wish you luck on your exam.

· I wish you were here.

· I wish I could lose weight.

Sometimes we formalize the wish into a hope.

· I hope you get that new job.

· I hope I get that raise.

And sometimes we formalize the hope into a prayer.

· We pray for an end to war.

· We pray for an end to hate.

And sometimes we expend way too much time and energy praying and hoping and wishing and not nearly enough time or energy focusing and creating and accomplishing.

There is no intention here to impugn stars or acorns or birthday candles or pennies or zoos, yawns, wishbones or white horses. There is certainly to intention to impugn hopes or prayers. The two former activities can give focus to mundane or celestial or life cycle events. And the latter (prayer) gives focus and structure to the very essence of our being. However, simply wishing or hoping and even in some cases praying are not sufficient in and of themselves.

Every weekday morning I drive east to work. The trip takes about forty-five minutes. Every weekday evening I drive west to my home. That trip takes about forty-five minutes. Each week I drive almost eight hours to and from work. I pass many trucks hauling hay. Upon each truck I pass I make a wish. It’s always the same wish. After several years of this word for word repeated wishing it began to occur to me that perhaps wishing wasn’t enough. I couldn’t place my life expectations on a truck of hay. Something had to be expected of me, also.

Just as I have no intention to impugn wishing and hoping and praying, I certainly have no intention to propose that we stop participating in any of those activities. However, I do propose that we start using them differently. A wish or a hope or a prayer can become powerful vehicles for change if we allow them to become calls to action.

When I toss the coin into the fountain and wish to become more physically fit, I have stated more than a wish. I have stated an intention -- a goal. I can then use that statement of intention – that goal -- to make create an action plan and make a commitment to that plan. I can become an agent of change in my life instead of remaining a passive ‘wisher’.

I can move from wishes to commitments to goals to accomplishments to life changes by:

· Really looking at my original wishes.

· Turning the wishes into goals.

· Committing myself to the action items needed to achieve those goals.

· Contracting with myself to actively and fully pursue those goals.

· Letting others know about my goals just as freely as I announce my wishes.

It’s not time to stop wishing and it’s not time to stop hoping. It certainly isn’t time to stop praying. It is time, however, to back up those activities up with actions. If I wish for weight loss let me also carefully and courageously examine my exercise and eating habits and make changes which will help my wish come true. If I hope to publish a book let me first write the story. If I pray for peace, let me also become an agent of peace at least within myself and my own community.

At this sacred time we pray that our final writings in the Book of Life will be for the good. Let us also become active agents in the writing of that Book.

A recent survey indicated that many at the end of their lives wish they had made of their lives a greater legacy of good deeds, that they had taken more time to think and reflect on life, and that they had taken more risks and dared to do some of the things they had dreamed of doing.

Dreaming and hoping and praying are actions best accomplished with our feet. They are calls to action. Later on today we will hear for the last time this year the plaintive cry of the lone Shofar. Let it once again call us to the action of being active participants, complete agents of change, in our own lives and not just the spectators who dream of better times.

At the end of my life let it be said that I lived it. Let the same be said for you at the end of yours.

G’mar H’tima Tovah. May we help write our final inscriptions and may those inscriptions be for good.

He Changed The World

2011-10-05T20:54:00.000-07:00

How Beautiful Are Your Tents

2011-10-01T22:22:00.000-07:00

A Sermon Delivered on Rosh Hashanah at Congregation Etz Chaim, Ramona CA:

“How beautiful are your tents, O Jacob! Your dwelling-places, O Israel!” So begins every Jewish morning synagogue service. But the words are not those of any lover of Israel. Rather, they were first said by the Midianite prophet Balaam, hired by Balak, king of Moab, to curse the upstart people Israel, who were growing rather too numerous and prosperous for Balak’s comfort. In the story told in the book of Numbers, Balaam tries with all his might to fulfill his mission of cursing Israel but every time he looks at them, he is only able to utter blessing.

Balaam can only envy those who come to curse Israel today. Most of them are able to succeed quite well. Israel, in the eyes of the modern world, is too compassionate or too harsh, too arrogant or too humble, too heavy-handed or not nearly heavy-handed enough. Israel is a nation with great divergences. There is the divide between secular and religious, between Jew and Arab, and lesser known out of the country, there is a great divide between rich and poor. Taxes are high and salaries are low. An Israeli joke goes, “How do you make a small fortune in Israel? Answer: Come here with a large one”. Certain industries are entrenched hand-in-hand with the government, and a great amount of wealth is in the hands of a very few families. Ordinary working people are finding it harder and harder to get by, to pay rent, to buy even the simplest of foods.

Columnist David Suissa, in an article in the L.A. Jewish Journal’s September 1^st issue, analyzes the situation in Israel as follows: “As I see it, three great forces animate Israeli society: love of life (peace), fear of extinction (security) and an impulse for social justice. Until this extraordinary protest movement this summer, Israeli consciousness was largely dominated by the first two – peace and security.”

The recent social justice protests in Israel began over the price of cottage cheese. Israelis love dairy products, and cottage cheese is one of the staples of their diet. This past June, manufacturers announced a steep rise in the price of cottage cheese, and two young men in B’nei B’rak, an ultra-Orthodox neighborhood, began a Facebook campaign encouraging others to boycott cottage cheese to bring down the price. This spurred on-line discussions about the high cost of living, and by mid-July hundreds of young people had pitched tents in the middle of Rothschild Boulevard, one of the most expensive neighborhoods in Tel Aviv, to protest skyrocketing rents. Throughout the month of July, the protesters and tens of thousands of their supporters marched and demonstrated through the streets. More tent cities sprang up around the country, and the movement culminated in a 400,000 person demonstration on September 3^rd. To give you an idea of how large that is by Israeli standards, the country has only 7.7 million residents. Think about it – almost half a million people in a country of less than eight million turned up at one demonstration.

The Israeli protests gave me heart, in a summer that saw not much heartening news. Other demonstrations took place in the world this summer. London ignited in a three-day storm of protest over the same kind of perceived social injustice as in Israel. The London protests, though, featured looting and burning. The Israelis dragged couches and easy chairs into the streets and set up salons amid the tents. As people passed by, they sat down, sipped coffee and engaged in conversations about the future of their country. Although most of those who actually lived in the tents were young, those who engaged in the discussions ran the gamut of Israeli society – Arab and Jew, young and old, secular and religious.

In our own country, the angry voices of protest these days belong to the “Tea Party”. They contend that getting the government off our backs will save the United States. The Israeli protests are the exact reverse. In the words of Israeli newspaper Yediot Achronot columnist Yair Lapid, writing on the paper’s website Y-Net, “The new people are not trying to destroy the regime. Rather the opposite is true: they are trying with all their might to make the government do its job”.

What is it that makes this protest a Jewish one? It is entirely in keeping with Jewish values, the values given us by the Torah, many of which we will hear during these Aseret Y’mei T’shuvot; the ten days of Awe upon which we embark this evening.

“You shall not judge unfairly; you shall show no partiality; you shall not take bribes, for bribes blind the eyes of the discerning and upset the plea of the just. Justice, justice shall you pursue”, reads Deuteronomy 16. Unfortunately, one of the reasons for the inequities in Israel is that a few families have monopolized crucial industries, and are hand-in-glove with the government. They make huge profits, have no competition and no incentive to change, and they have enormous social and governmental influence. The protests are calling this long-term collaboration out into the light of day and crying for change.

“You shall not hate your kinsman in your heart. Reprove your kinsman but incur no guilt because of him”, reads Leviticus 19. Midrash Sifra explains this verse to mean that the obligation to reprove is for cases in which one has reason to believe that the reproof will bring about a change in behavior. Calling upon the government and the powerful industries to which it is beholden may indeed bring better and fairer times to the general Israeli public.

“This is the fast I desire”, said Isaiah the prophet, in the haftarah we will read on Yom Kippur morning, “It is to share your bread with the hungry, and to take the wretched poor into your home; when you see the naked to clothe him, and not to ignore your own kin.” The protests, which began with a couple of religious young men protesting the price of cottage cheese, caught the religious and moral imagination of the entire country, and showed that, whether or not they attend synagogue, observe Shabbat or the laws of kashrut, that the spirit of Jewish values is alive and well in modern day Israel.

The sheer size of these protests has required a response from the government. As early as July 26^th, Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu unveiled a series of reforms regarding public housing and transportation subsidies. The protesters rejected the reforms as insufficient and called for renewed protests. Netanyahu then established a special commission headed by economics professor Manuel Trajtenberg to analyze the problems and make recommendations. Trajtenberg himself visited the tent cities to meet with leaders of the protests. What the commission will devise, or how it will translate into law is yet unclear. But according to all who experienced the social justice protests this summer, this is an issue that will not go away. The people of Israel want their country to stand for the values upon which it was founded; the values of fairness, justice and caring for all members of the society – the values of Judaism.

The tents are gone, now, or going away. The day after the September 3^rd demonstration, the city of Tel Aviv delivered polite letters to those living in the tents on Rothschild Boulevard telling them to dismantle them by Rosh Hashanah, or be forcibly removed. The protesters complied, as they have throughout this summer, in a peaceful fashion. The weather is turning to autumn, and many of them have had to go back to school or work. Those who had been homeless before the protests said that they still had no place else to go, but would find a less public venue to continue living on the streets of Israel. They had benefitted from a summer of donated food and available showers and toilets and felt that, at least to some extent, their plight had been heard by the powers that be.

What comes next? David Suissa, in the same Jewish Journal article, recounts that in one of the salons, towards the end of August, he heard the following conversation. An elderly woman asked, “What will happen when all these tents go down? How will this lead to anything new? All these tents are beautiful, but we need solutions!” A man dressed in black replied, “Remember when the Second Temple got destroyed? It didn’t destroy us. We had leaders who picked up the pieces and kept our people growing. These tents are like little temples. After they go down, it’s up to us to make sure we keep their spirit growing”.

Like all Jews should do at this time of year, Israel is looking inward and trying to take stock and improve itself. May the ongoing sense of justice that these summer protests ignited grow to make Israel the kind of country where even its harshest critics will be forced to say, “How beautiful are your tents”.

At This Narrow Bridge Again

2011-09-28T10:56:00.000-07:00

At This Narrow Bridge Again

@MaryWalkerBaron 2007

Here we are again at this narrow bridge

Ready to begin our annual crossing --

Returned to this moment by ancient migratory

Patterns mapped in stone.

For a month we’ve wondered

What to bring – how best to pack and what to wear -- .

Difficult preparations even though

We try to make them every year.

I always over pack and now at this

Pre-crossing liminal moment I wonder –

Will I really need a flashlight?

If I haven’t yet read that issue of ‘Scientific American’

I bought on impulse last year at the Jet Blue

Terminal of JFK maybe I should admit

That I’ll never read it

And leave it behind.

I open my pack for a final inventory before

Stepping on to the bridge. Does my Zip Lock

Bag of anger weigh too much? Is my Nalgene

Bottle of tears absolutely necessary? Did I pack

Enough hope and forgiveness? Where is that

Stuff bag of patience I meant to take? Is there

Time to repack before I cross to the other side?

Is anyone less prepared than I?

Rav Nachman -- our tour guide – said that

The important thing is to not be afraid.

I just heard a scream. No wait. We’ve heard

That sound before -- our shrieking

Hollow filled with awe horn

Reminding us to watch our steps.

This bridge between our sunsets is, indeed,

Narrow. Each year we journey together we

Become better packers. We learn to travel

Lightly. The anger was too heavy. Tears once

Shed are gone forever. Maybe the flashlight is

Still a good idea. We make these crossings

Together to steady and prepare for the moment

We must cross the bridge alone – comforted by

Our yearly migrations to sacred moments at this

Fearless time.

No More Last Meals

2011-09-24T20:38:00.000-07:00

The State of Texas has stopped letting about to be put to death prisoners order special last meals. The stated reason is that the whole thing was nonsense. I'm not sure if the nonsense referred just to a special last meal or to the whole notion of murdering someone as pay back for another murder.
Texas started its last meal ritual after it first execution by electrocution in 1924. The most popular last meal requests have been hamburgers. Prison cooks have tried to honor all requests -- if not in quantity, then in quality. For instance an inmate once requested a pound of barbecue, but received a smaller amount because that's all the prison kitchen had available.
Texas State Senator John Whitmire, a Houston Democrat, has been getting increasingly miffed over these last meal requests. One request in particular so outraged him that he demanded Brad Livingston, executive director of the state prison agency, instruct prison workers to stop preparing special last meals.
Here's what sent him over the hospitality edge:
Lawrence Brewer was convicted of a gruesome murder. He was a self-described white supremacist and by all accounts a really awful person. Before his execution he requested a last meal that included: two chicken-fried steaks with gravy and sliced onions; a triple-patty bacon cheeseburger; a cheese omelet with ground beef, tomatoes, onions, bell peppers and jalapenos; a bowl of fried okra with ketchup; one pound of barbecued meat with half a loaf of white bread; three fajitas; a meat-lover’s pizza; one pint of Blue Bell Ice Cream; a slab of peanut-butter fudge with crushed peanuts; and three root beers.
Apparently for that particular meal the prison kitchen was well stocked and filled the order completely. And then as his final act of completely anti-social behavior, Brewer ate none of it.
The guy was convicted of a hate crime. He was found guilty of dragging a man to death and apparently he didn't argue with the verdict. I'm not sure why anyone expected him to suddenly develop manners and follow the last meal rules.
Nevertheless, because of his in your face last meal behavior no one about to be executed in Texas gets to request a last meal now. Apparently the Senator has gotten quite a few calls asking to show a little compassion and allow those about to die even for crimes they might not have committed to at least enjoy a hamburger in their last moments. So far the Senator is not moved.
Kathryn Kase, interim executive director of Texas Defenders, a nonprofit organization that trains and assists lawyers who represent death row inmates, said the state's decision to end last meals shows a lack of "compassion for the condemned." The action "says more about us, I’m afraid, than perhaps was intended.”
“I’m very sorry that the state of Texas has chosen to send that message,” she said.
In all that's wrong with our justice and prison systems, refusing a reasonable last meal request seems so far off the mark as to be ludicrous but possibly not as ludicrous as the entire concept of murder for the sake of murder.

Best Moves

2011-09-18T21:17:00.000-07:00

For the last few months, people have been suggesting that I should get a dog, because “the dog park is a great place to meet people.” Well, the last time I was single I had a dog, and I used to go to the dog park all the time. While it’s true, I did meet women there, it was always as I was leaving with a big bag of poop. And, the worst part was, it was usually on days that I didn’t bring my dog...

What is the FBI doing?

2011-09-17T21:09:00.000-07:00

On Wednesday, Spencer Ackerman, senior writer for Wired.com's national security blog, "The Danger Room", broke a disheartening story. The FBI has been training its agents to believe that American Muslims are dangerous and violent, and that the more religious they are, the more likely they are to be terrorists. This is not a random misstatement or error; he has released dozens of pages of documents. The original story can be found here: http://wired.com/dangerroom/2011/09/fbi-muslims-radical/ and Ackerman says that there is much more to come. All the FBI can say in response is "the individual who was teaching this material no longer works for the FBI". Senators, counterterrorism professionals and civil rights advocates have been shocked by this news, and frankly, I think we all should be, too.

In the spirit of both full disclosure and boasting rights, I freely admit that Spencer Ackerman is the son of my best friend, I have known him since he was born, and I am very proud of his work. Go, Spencer.

witsendmagazine.com

It's Okay To Disagree

Declining With Dignity - from The Huffington Post

A World Seen Through The Eyes of a Cold

A Sweet Wrong Number

An End Of The World Sunset

More Lessons Learned From The Basset

We don't get it either.

Come On, Paula

Inside the Basset Brain

Dreaming On

Quality Time In The Park

It's not the hair that makes the man.

The R In The Circle

Not As Funny As I Thought

Wine Tasting 101

Election Night Special

Not Another Resolution, Exactly

Time To Begin Again

You Know You Love It

A Sign of Hope

Lighting the Fires On Nani

A New Calendar - Shortened Version

I'm really not looking forward to an entire year of hype about the Mayan Calendar. Why is everyone so worried? Nationwide, there are thousands of Hannah Montana calendars that end in 14 hours, and I really doubt that we've seen the last of that gavel-voiced shrill-billy.

We Can't Always Be Frank, Apparently

Why I'm Not A Cat Person

And Finally, This

And On Another Note

We Won't, Mary

And Celebrate Even More

So Celebrate

From USA Today Of All Places

It Certainly Wasn't A Bick

Driving Distracted

A Simple Parenting Tip

As an involved parent with an education background, I do my best to make life lessons more relatable for the boy. So, yesterday, at Whole Foods when the water misters in the produce aisle came on, and he asked what they were for, I told him they keep away wicked witches disguised as broccoli.

Free Fiona

Santa Is Apparently Really Serious

Don't Regret Regret - From Ted.com

"What a delicious strawberry!!"

Rain As Blessing Rain As Curse

Having A Plan Is Essential

Jacob as Role Model

From The Huffington Post

My Pin Ball Machine Commute

No More Waiting

Hats Off To Hillary

When They Came For Me There Was No One Left

Who Took The First Step To Solve This Problem?

Super Hero Saturday

We Were Graced

Don't Forget That It's Still Here

Today is World AIDS Day.

World AIDS Day this year is about “Getting to Zero.” Zero New HIV Infections.Zero Discrimination and Zero AIDS Related Deaths.

Many More Miles Than Steps

Miracles Still Happen

He's Eleven Now

An Appeal from AARP

The Trucks Are Back

Never Doubt That You Can Change The World

Occupancy...welcome?...

Not Quite There Yet!

Now, who's really suffering?

He Didn't Make It Back

11 11 11

Basset Blues

Thank You Mississippi

Wednesday, November 9, 1:40 PM

Let's Have Some Quiet

This Just In - People Should Be Treated With Respect Regardless Of ...

Advancing Effective Communication, Cultural Competence, and Patient- and Family-Centered Care for the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender (LGBT) Community

A Field Guide

It Just Gets More Different

Basset Hound Picnic In The Park

Now That I've Gotten It Back

Before And After 1957

Like a Thief in the Night

Her Bridge Is Fixed

I Truly Did Not See This Coming

For Those Who Care

World AIDS Day this year is about “Getting to Zero.” Zero New HIV Infections.
Zero Discrimination and Zero AIDS Related Deaths.