Not Right Now, Anyway

If you live in Southern California and have not yet read 'The Road' by Cormac McCarthy, do yourself a favor.
Don't start reading it now or in the near future.
I urge you, really.
On a lighter note. indications are a Category IV hurricane is headed our way.
We do, indeed, live in interesting times.

Fire, Fire Everywhere

I am very suspicious of the four fires (the Station Fire, the Morris Fire, the Oak Glen Fire and the Cottonwood Fire) surrounding the hilltops of Los Angeles and the valley area as well as the desert area (Yucapia), burning much more than 105 thousand acres involved in the Station Fire, are acts of nature. It's total disaster for those living near the fires, in the path of the fires and our courageous firefighters even to the extent of two firefighters giving their lives to save others - not to mention the health risk to many. Should these fires reach Mt. Wilson, our main commnication center, the populace will lose contact with the media and possibly the outside world. I can only hope if these fires were purposely started, the culprit or culprits are found and are sentenced to the max. I am sickened with the vastness of distruction.

Thank you Quebec for flying in your Super Scoopers. You have probably saved many lives and structures.

Report from the Belly of the Beast

As if things aren't smoky enough in Glendale, I needed to go to Montrose today, because The Family Dog eats a special kind of dog food that is not carried in chain stores, and he was almost out of it. Anderson's Pet Store on Honolulu Street carries it. I decided to take a deep breath and drive to Montrose. Schools are closed, but I didn't see any children around. It was early in the lunch hour but no one was patronizing the many Honolulu Street sidewalk cafes, although the owners had bravely set out the tables and chairs. I then stopped at the CVS drug store on Verdugo to pick up a few items. Things there seemed more like business as usual. One woman talking animatedly (and loudly) on a cell phone gleefully informed her friend that she had shown up for work, but her boss had closed the office for the day, so she was going shopping instead. As I was leaving, an L.A. County hook-and-ladder stopped in a corner of the parking lot and a couple of firemen headed toward the store. Everyone they passed either gave them a thumbs-up or went over to thank them and wish them a safe shift. Good.

The Station

The smoke cloud stretches at least from San Dimas through Azusa and Monrovia and Altadena and Pasadena and Glendale to Sunland Tujunga and reaches twenty thousand feet into the air. At times this morning visibility was less than one hundred yards driving through Pasadena. Two fire fighters died this afternoon fighting this almost fifty thousand acre conflagration.
On the anniversary of the landfall of Hurricane Katrina in 2005, we here in Southern California attest to nature's power and whim.

A Flash from the Past

Eighteen summers ago, I had just finished my first year of rabbinical studies in Israel. In July, I drove to meet the congregation that I would serve for two years as their student rabbi, in South Lake Tahoe, California.

My first visit came two weeks after the abduction of Jaycee Lee Dugard. The picture above could be found on posters in every store, restaurant, hotel and casino in town, and pink ribbons were being worn everywhere. Several of the children in the congregation had known her, and one had played on a team with her. All of the parents were distraught and anxious about letting their own children out of their sight in this small and lovely town in which they had chosen to raise their families.

Yesterday, I saw that picture again as the astounding news broke that Jaycee Dugard had been found after having been kept captive all those years, not more than a three hour drive from South Lake Tahoe. As the disturbing details of her captivity emerge, I am thinking of her. I think of all her contemporaries, the children I knew in South Lake Tahoe who grew up in the security of their homes, went to school and played sports, went to college or to work or to military service, had social lives and love lives and professional lives, the kind of life that Jaycee would probably have had if she had not been abducted. I think of how many changes there have been in my own adult life from then until now. I pray that Jaycee and her children may find some semblance of a secure and happy life from this point on.

Bee Nice

We've had a cooler than usual summer this year, but this week Southern California has hit the triple digits and with it, as usual, come the brush fires. There are two in the Angeles National Forest; one north of Azusa and the other near La Canada/Flintridge. One thousand firefighters are out there in 105 degree weather trying to put them out. This morning, the radio announcer said that two firefighters had been injured so far, but not from the fire. They'd been stung by bees.

Here's what I have to say to the bees: Listen; these are fellow creatures trying to help you. If they can, they will save your home and environment as well as ours. Give them a break and bee nice.

Road Trip Lite

When you start down that last hill or maybe the next to the last hill and sight the largest thermometer in the world you know the drive from Los Angeles to Las Vegas is almost over. In August it's nothing unusual to see that thermometer register over 120 degrees. It's something to look forward to while dodging the drunk drivers either hopefully heading toward Las Vegas to claim fame and fortune or desolately returning home sad, broke and still drunk.
A businessman named Will Herron, dreamed a dream of a huge thermometer for 25 years before he built his dream in California's high desert.
The World's Largest Thermometer is 134-ft.-tall, symbolic of the record breaking high temperature in Death Valley -- 134 degrees Fahrenheit in 1913. Apparently it's never been hotter anyplace.
Herron had the thermometer constructed by Electric Sign Co. of Las Vegas (manufacturers of many lights on the Vegas strip). They used 33 tons of steel, and almost 5,000 lamps to create the three-sided digital display. After strong winds broke the thermometer, smashing a gift shop under construction, it was rebuilt, and eventually filled with concrete so that it would survive just about anything.
Obviously, though, not everything.
It's broken.
In this era of failed just about everything, it is with deep sadness that I report the demise of the Baker thermometer. It's still really tall. The post cards and road side signs, though, have changed. Baker is now the proud home of the World's Tallest Broken Thermometer.
I guess that's still something to write home about unless, of course, you live in Baker.
As a boy named John, the high school love of my life, wrote in my year book after I had dramatically ended our relationship during a speed test in our typing class, "Time flies and things change."
Wow! Was he ever right.
Hopefully John doesn't at this time live in Baker. Hearts broken twice are sad to behold.

A Tribute To Time

A Quote Worth Sharing

"One of the problems in life is to distinguish between demons, magic, and God."

Iris Murdoch, in an interview with Sarah Booth Conroy, published in the Washington Post 3-18-90.

--which is just yet *another* reason to go see live magicians perform, you know, *live.* Doing so will make you wiser, more subtle, AND more reverent toward God.

The People's Diva

And still going strong.

Heroes - One and All

Several months ago, I had occasion to witness the Glendale Fire Department practicing their dangerous emergency tactics. The pilot landed the helicopter at the heliport in the canyon and then took off as if in an emergency, hovering at various sites in the canyon. This continued time after time until the maneuvers were smooth. A fire broke out in this same canyon about one month ago. The fire descended down the hill within a few feet of the back yards of some of the canyon residents. Had it not been for the rigorous training as well as the water placement at the heliport, several hundred homes would have been destroyed. Thank you Glendale Fire Department and those of the Los Angele Fire Department. You are truly heroes!

Bert & Rocky's, and water mindfulness

They are in Claremont and make the very best ice cream. It is so good it drove a Coldstone Creamery out of business here in the Village.

I'm glad that we are having to think about water. Considering how important it is, we should be mindful about how we use it. Senseless wastefulness in anything really is not one of our sacred rights as Americans.

Do The Math

I went to Target because the Family Cats needed canned food. ( Note: A red t-shirt looks nice with tan chinos, but do NOT wear those two items together when you go to Target, or everyone will ask you where to find things.) Because of my attire, I was in a hurry to get out of there. I buy multi-packs of Friskies, since the little darlings are hearty eaters, bless them. The shelves were unusually bare, and the only multi-pack was a "poultry variety pack" of 32 cans for $14.69. I didn't know what to do. I didn't have time to go to another store, and poultry is not the kitties' favorite. I looked at the individual cans, which included flavors that they do like, and saw that they were $0.44 each. Wait a minute. I took out my cell phone which, of course, has a calculator in it, and did the math. If you divide $14.69 by 32, it comes to 45.9 cents per can. The multi-pack was more expensive than the individual cans. Are they kidding? Don't they know everyone has a cell phone with a calculator? I bought 32 cans of the flavors they like and saved 61 cents. They can't fool me. At least not when I have a calculator.

Ice Cream

Ice cream. You scream - I scream - everybody screams for ice cream. I just can't seem to get enough of that wonderful scrumptious stuff. Vanilla, chocolate or strawberry - it doesn't matter as long as it's ice cream. I've been eating cone by cone and bowl by bowl all summer and I still crave more. There's nothing more satisfying than eating the ice cream down to the cone and then taking that first bite of cone and ice cream. Yum! What is it about it? Is it the delicious flavor as your tongue grasps the essence of it? Or, is it the flavor buds going into overtime? Where is this craving coming from? Is it because ice cream cools, soothes and refreshes you on a hot summer day? Is it because it satisfies a need for feeling good in these stressful times? I venture to answer in the affirmative. There's nothing like the rich, smooth and velvety texture of ice cream slithering down the back of your throat and into your tummy. Ice cream is good for the soul and I strongly recommend it to all who want to feel vigorously alive and well!

Meanwhile Back At The Water Faucet

So a few days have gone by since I began our conversation about change and specifically about changing the length of our showers.
Here are some more thoughts about considering change.
We need to give ourselves a pretty good reason to climb out of our six foot deep Oregon Trail ruts and choose a different path.
In the case of conserving water, information about the global water crisis might be sufficient motivation to cut our showers down to five minutes. Perhaps, possibly, probably not, though. Here in Southern California our cities have apparently already figured that out and have put in place a system of monetary fines if we fail to cut down on the amount of water we use. Ploughing through back water bills, the cities came up with how much water we should be using per household and upon that amount they base their fine structure. We can also be fined for obvious wastes of water and for failing to adhere to imposed days on which to water our gardens. Okay. I get it. We choose change to avoid penalty. That's another good reason.
Whatever reason we choose, giving ourselves a good reason to change helps us change.
Sounds easy, right? Yeah. Sure. When was the last time you flossed?
In order to change our behaviors we need a motivator. The approaching dental appointment generally send me to the bathroom drawer looking for the floss.
First thing about change then? Give yourself a good enough reason because change takes energy and planning.

Fangless

A beautiful 2-3 year old white Alaskan Husky has a real bad habit of biting people. For a long period of time, the dog's owner tried and tried various things to get him to stop. She hired dog trainers, dog behavioral trainers, specialty trainers, etc. Nothing seemed to work. The dog maintained his biting habit. As a last resort, the owner took him to a veterinary tooth specialist who cut off the two fangs in the dog's mouth (these quickly puncture skin) and filed the rest of his teeth down so that when he tries to bite, he can't do any damage. After all this, the dog still has the bad habit. Do you think this is cruel by going to the extreme when all else has failed?

The History of Now

What do a street musician in today's Bogota, Harvard's royal tennis team, a run away slave on the Underground Railroad, a seventeenth century Rotterdam housewife, a pot smoking sushi server, and a lonely young man walking west from the Massachusetts Bay Colony to find the most beautiful place on Earth have in common? In 'The History of Now' their lives touch in a little post 9/11 town called Grandville nestled in the Housatonic River valley at the foothills of the Berkshire Mountains and change themselves and everyone even remotely connected to their astonishing genetic inheritances.
Daniel Klein loves the English language. I couldn't put this book down and on top of that on page 86 I learned the meaning of the word 'audodidact'.

Where Is It?

I couldn't find it anywhere. It was lost many months ago and I have looked everywhere. I became vigilant and obsessive - looking in every nook and cranny - I just couldn't find it. I looked so hard and long that I became despondent and depressed. My brain was completely clouded because I couldn't think of where I misplaced it. I searched and searched. I desperately tried to remember where I put it. Then - out of the blue - (and after an hour's hike in the wilderness), it struck me. I had it all along and didn't realize it. It was so diluted that I didn't recognize it. It took a hike to clear the brain and Hoooray! I finally found my sense of humor.

Back to Nature

"Get out of my way. I spotted him first." "No, you get out of my way, he's mine." "No, he's not." "Yes, he is."

I can well imagine my two cats talking to each other in this manner as one peers out the window and the other is on the window ledge glaring at a wild cottontail. They both vie for the ledge which is the better view of the bunny. I look out and tell the rabbit he's soooo lucky my two cats are inside and can't get out. I've become quite fond of Mr. Rabbit so much so that I refuse to repair my back yard wooden fence that has a slat missing. I love Mr. Bunny to visit my yard. It reminds me that all is well and good in Mother Nature.

Boy Was She!

Okay. Enough of this. But wait...just one more thing. Wondering who would first ask me about my readiness for the weekend was getting to me today. So after lunch, when none of the regular Friday interrogators had approached me, I sought one of them out and hit pay dirt at the copying machine.
"Hi," I said which was sufficiently out of character to cause low level alarm in my Friday regular.
The regular, being brave of heart and kind of spirit, turned to face me.
"Are you ready for the weekend," I asked with earnest good intention spilling from my every pore.
Her smile was immediate and broad.
"You better believe I am."
This variation on a theme threw me for a second but I quickly recovered and replied with enthusiasm to match hers.
"Me too," fairly shouted I.
When I returned to the privacy of my office I gave myself a high five and then went back to work.
That's it.
I'm finished.

Changing Means Thinking Differently

Once again thanks to ted.com for reminding us that the first step in change is a reorganization of the way we think.

Doggie Diner

For you dog lovers out there, there's a perfect place to take your favorite pooch! Doggie Diner in Long Beach, California has been opened for business for about one year and offers a wide variety of tasty doggie morsels and meals. If you visit, you can also outfit your lovable creature with the latest fashion and accessories. All breeds are welcome - young and old. None will be turned away. In fact, the owners might try to give Fido enough samples to appease his taste. They are 100% sure to satisfy your dog's palet. Not only are the owners creative but, this doggie haven will prove to be a most enjoyable spot for Spot.

21 Miles Across the Sea

24 year old Jen Schumacher will swim the 21 miles from Avalon in Catalina to the Palos Verdes Peninsula on August 13th beginning at midnight since the currents are calmer at that hour and there is not much ocean going freighter traffic. Jen has received numerous medals for long distance swimming meets and feels she will succeed this 10 hour swim. She can touch no person on the safety/support boat, cannot get in the boat to rest and cannot wear a wet suit. She will be given energy drinks, bananas and several other energy snacks every 25 minutes. 30% of the proceeds she will receive will go to the Surfrider Foundation and the rest will pay her supporters.

Go Jen Go!!!! We're rooting for you!

When You Know It Is Real

So the beloved and I, and plenty of friends (you know who you are) all attended a wedding this weekend, a Traditional Jewish Same Sex wedding held in a Conservative shul.  Now of course the historical and social significance of it all had me reeling and giddy, but so did the reverence and joy.  The grooms were two of the finest upstanding robust flowers of Jewish manhood as you would ever wish to meet, religious specialists both.  All the details were liturgically impeccable.  And, as tradition commands, we all drank and danced and feasted and rejoiced and everything came off, as far as I could tell, in just the sort of rich happy golden glow one likes to have a wedding go off in, the kind of glow one looks forward to seeing deepen by the fiftieth anniversary.

The table we sat at was full of friends, one of whom was a young rabbi, and she said "This whole wedding is very haimish."  Now the word she used sounded like the Scottish man's name, and I'd not heard it before, so she went on the explain it as a sort of "family coziness feel" which sounded to me like about the best way to have a wedding.  All the parents and grandparents had participated.

But what really touched the whole thing into utter seriousness, what marked the event as true in heaven as on earth, politics and religion and ritual and society and even love and commitment aside, was when I saw the old women dance.  Grandmothers hooking canes over their elbows to dance, one woman getting out of her wheelchair to dance at this wedding, middle aged women circling gently with her as the young men went careening around in their long chains, never endangering her.

What could make God's will for these two young men more clear than this?

Water Water Everywhere

And not a drop to spare.

So goes the saying and so arrives the first aspect of change. Understanding can provide motivation and motivation is necessary for change.

'Dawn of a thirsty century' by Alex Kirby and published by BBC News Online might help us consider turning off the faucet.

The amount of water in the world is limited. The human race, and the other species which share the planet, cannot expect an infinite supply.

Water covers about two-thirds of the Earth's surface, admittedly. But most is too salty for use.

Only 2.5% of the world's water is not salty, and two-thirds of that is locked up in the icecaps and glaciers.

Of what is left, about 20% is in remote areas, and much of the rest arrives at the wrong time and place, as monsoons and floods.

Humans have available less than 0.08% of all the Earth's water. Yet over the next two decades our use is estimated to increase by about 40%.

_____________________________________________________________

One Drop At A Time

Here in Southern California we are being asked to conserve water. Five minute showers should become de rigueur we are told and if they don't our water bills will increase significantly. We shall, in other words, be fined for not conserving water.
That's okay with me.
This does, however, involve behavioral change and we know that change is difficult. Whether we're trying to change the length of our showers or the amount we eat or how much we exercise or how many pages we write a day, change is tough. Understanding change can make change easier and thus possible.
So.
One of the first steps in any change is understanding the reason for the change. Because the various water companies say so probably isn't enough to create significant and lasting change if we happen to be talking about changing the length of our showers to five minutes from however many minutes are in I'll get out when I feel like it.
Since it's rarely about what it appears to be about, I'm going to write over the next several days about change. I'll probably address our Southern California need to conserve water as the specific change. But change is change is change.
Whatever behavior we want to change, we can -- after all -- do it only one drop at a time.

In The Bag

Like any good citizen, I want the planet to survive. One way that I have been told I can help with this is by purchasing canvas bags and bringing them with me to the store so that I don't have to use those ubiquitous plastic grocery sacks in which they bag your purchases. I have a trunkful of canvas bags.

However, we also have a Family Dog and two Family Cats. I wish they took care of their own toileting tasks, but they don't. I also wish they could fix their own meals and get themselves jobs, but that is another post for another time. Suffice it to say that I use plastic grocery bags to take care of their needs. Having been a good citizen for the last few months, I have used up the backlog of pastic grocery bags. For this purpose, reusable canvas bags are not advised. What should I do? I have seen rolls of plastic bags for sale at the pet store, but it seems kind of ridiculous to pass up the free bags at the market and then pay for a roll of them at the pet store. On the other hand, the other shoppers glare at me when I ask for plastic instead of bringing my own bags. Any solutions to my situation here?

Boy Was I!

You may recall my Friday social dilemma involving colleagues asking me whether or not I was ready for the weekend. The solution to that on going angst came in the form of a Friday script. I was instructed to stop stating that I didn't understand the question and reply instead with "Boy am I!".
The Friday after receiving the script none of my usual interrogators approached me. I was left waiting in the wings of social repartee's theater.
Yesterday, though, my moment came.
A colleague approached me with clear dread written on her face. She took a deep breath and once again asked the inevitable Friday question.
"Are you ready for the weekend?"
My mind froze. My moment had come. I paused to collect my thoughts and my courage. Her expression began to change from that of polite expectation to one of pity. I knew that if I didn't speak soon the expression would move from pity to defeat and she would once again walk away confounded by my inability to participate in the game of mindless social exchanges.
And then I did it.
"Boy am I!" I said probably a bit too late and with just a tad too much enthusiasm.
Never the less, my Friday interrogator appeared first stunned and then thrilled.
Her reply mirrored my exuberance.
"Me too!"
There. We were done. And just in the nick of time.
We had exchanged no useful information. Apparently, however, we had exchanged something more valuable than information. We shared good feelings and positive energy.
I'm hooked.
Boy am I!

Mom Knows Best

Last week, for the first time in my fifty-seven years, I bought a pair of Birkenstocks. I can see why I waited so long. They are plenty expensive. I bought them because I was in Claremont village when the sandals I was wearing began falling apart as I walked. I looked across the street and saw the Birkenstock store. It was a sign, I thought. I found the exact pair I wanted and tried them on. They felt fine, except that the strap on the left one rubbed against my ankle. "I'll fix that", the saleswoman said, and got a piece of sandpaper, and sanded the leather. "You know what my mother used to do with shoes like that", I said, "she would take a candle and coat the place on the shoe where it rubbed with wax ." The saleswoman looked at me as if I was crazy.

I wore the new sandals out of the store, and went about my day. When I got home the sandals were entirely comfortable except for that spot on the left ankle. I sandpapered it. No help. When I realized that I wasn't wearing my expensive new shoes because I expected them to hurt, I got out the candles. I rubbed wax on the left ankle strap. No more problems. I'm not your mom, but I'm giving you this advice anyway. It really works.

Maybe Next Time Me

Each time one member of a minority succeeds every member of that minority knows that success is possible.

Here's What Counts

I first heard of yesterday's brush fire when a friend called to say, "I think you may have a problem. There's a fire near your home. Let me know if I can help."
I walked into the lobby of the agency where I work. Already television news showed live footage of the fire. I recognized the area. My friend was right. The fire was near my home. I left work immediately. The ordinarily forty minute drive home took over two hours. I had plenty of time to think about the meaning of possessions.
I had even more time to think about the meaning of friends. Those thoughts were interrupted by another friend calling to check on our well being and to offer, should the need arise, shelter. Finally home, I watched water dumping helicopters make back and forth trips from the fire to reservoirs or ponds of lakes -- to anyplace with enough water to fill the buckets.
This morning more friends called or dropped by to say, "Don't forget...anytime you need something...Everything okay..."
Here in high fire danger land we get frequent reminders of shelter's fragility and of friendship's power.

Primary Care

Primary care doctors are medical quarterbacks. Primary care doctors refer a patient to specialists like quarterbacks call football plays. They are like mainframes - eeking out bits of information to those computers networked with it. Most primary care doctors know how the system works but then, there are those who don't, much to the dismay of their patients. I recently experienced a doctor who didn't. She was actually afraid to make a referral to a specialist. Her words indicated she couldn't make a referral but evidently her mouth and hands were not connected because as she was saying she couldn't make a referral because she didn't quite know what the specialist would recommend, she was writing a referral. I was lucky to have an advocate with me. He couldn't believe what he had witnessed. The appointment was for a physical exam and a referral for physical therapy. Instead of an examination, the doctor spent the time defending herself to the advocate and never did the examination. She left the room stating she had a headache. Needless to say since that "exam", a new primary care doctor has been selected. Have you experienced a similar situation?

Not Many Degrees

The plight of the two women journalists held in North Korea was, until today, of distant concern to me because their situation seemed so out of context. While I cared, I hadn't felt a connection. Today, however, things changed. A colleague with whom I have worked for a decade literally ran into my office this afternoon shouting, "She's coming home!" Of course, I asked him who was coming home. "My cousin's wife," he said while responding to txt messages on his cell phone.
Yes! My friend's cousin is the husband of one of the two women.
The world got just a little smaller as I got it, really got it, that I was connected to these women all along. We are all connected all of the time. Most of the time, though, we just don't know in what way. My friend's joy reminded me of that connection.

Counter Logic

Rush hour at the Toasted Bun coffee shop can get pretty tense. This particular rush hour happened to be at about ten this morning. All nine booths were occupied along with one entire counter. I'm aware of this because we got the last booth.
Counters are great places to sit, too. I like them because I get to be in the middle of the coffee shop action. This morning, though, we felt like boothing it.
Right after we sat down, a man and woman entered, looked around them and then with stern faces walked to the remaining empty counter. Five stools from which to choose two. The man chose the second stool from the end and the woman sat next to them. Their decision made it impossible for a party of three to sit together. I thought things might get interesting and they did very quickly. In walked a party of three. There were only three remaining places to sit. The party of three, with not a stern face among them, walked directly to the counter. They stood in back of the seated party of two. One of the three cleared a throat. Another tapped a foot. Neither member of the party of two indicated any awareness of people behind. Finally one of the three tapped the guy of the two on the shoulder. Several times, it worked out, before the guy turned around. Even after being asked to move down one stool, no one moved. I thought this could be the most exciting day ever in the Toasted Bun's long history of, well, not very exciting days. Eventually, though, the guy stood up and moved down to the end stool and then his friend did the same.
As things wound down I thought what a perfect time it would be for the traveling bag pipers who frequent the Toasted Bun to show up instruments and all. They didn't, though.
There is a logic to eating in a coffee shop. It's probably the same logic needed for a lot of life.
Think ahead and try to be kind because you never know when the pipers will play.

Words Matter

So there I was yesterday in Friday get out of town fast if you can rush hour traffic stuck behind a car with -- R.I.P. Michael Jackson Your Still #1! -- painted across the entire back window. At first read I thought the painter referred to a still owned by Michael Jackson. I wondered why the boot legging activity of the King of Pop hadn't gotten greater attention. Only on the third read did I realize that the back window was a tribute to Michael Jackson and not a veiled reference to any back yard whiskey making. Had I been able to move into the lane next to the driver of the tribute car, I could have motioned for him to roll down his windows and given him a quick language lesson. Had we been moving any more slowly, I could have jumped out of my car, reached into his, grabbed the paint can, and made the corrections myself. Alas, neither possibility materialized. Eventually, however, the tribute car and I were able to go our separate ways.
And Michael Jackson?
You're Still #1!