Enablers

"I'm Tired of Pretending I'm Not Special"-C.S.
Hey, now if you address a letter to Special,
Charlie Sheen gets it. Cool. Saves a lengthy address.

{my point for this one is to blaming Charlie Sheen for being an idiot is missing the essence; that is, when did we allow this type of toilet paper press to become the prevailing interest of our collective conscience? He is only taking advantage of the opportunity}


Dear Special,
I'm not writing to say that you're nuts for you take care of this very easily all by yourself.
I'm not writing to say you should not lead the life you lead for it is your life.
I'm writing to say that I'm sorry that we encourage your behavior, in ways that apparently are too difficult for one person to comprehend. It seems that every time you get in trouble, the press loves playing the Charlie Sheen does it again angle, and you get big time coverage. I haven't seen your show but i've read some of the stories. Yep, I can't resist either.

Man, we love when someone from Hollywood screws up. But it works for you too: your show gets more press and increases viewers= higher ratings=the network charges advertisers more money=you get a raise larger than what many people earn for decades of work. So why shouldn't you feel that you are special? The worse you behave, the more valuable of a commodity you become. This, because of our society's crazed fascination with you and your peers. So maybe you do deserve a raise to 3 million an episode- for all we know, the money probably is hiding in someone's account.

Hey, how come I never see any pictures of you with your bro, Emilio or pops, Martin- are they avoiding you? Are they the only ones?
Special, just consider how much easy money you get just for showing up. Take the money and run. Buy an island next to Johnny Depp, refrain from persuading some dolphins to dress up as cheerleaders and because you can't run away from yourself, run away from us.

Swensen's

aSwensen's on Hyde and Union, has been around since 1948. At some point it franchised to a bunch of shops with the ice cream for these franchises coming out of one central factory in Arizona. One exception is here at the original site where they have always made their ice cream in a little room just off Hyde Street. If you time it right, you can find the manager creating during the day, sometimes offering the kids a taste or bits of cookies from the cookie's 'n cream. My guess is that most of the other stores would have a shopping mall feel, as any that exist probably do so in shopping malls.

The counter is really just a tiny L-shaped display of plastic glass and ice cream tubs, with a separate freezer in the customer area for prepacked quarts and half gallons. Also a water fountain which has always offered a nice stream of cool to cold water. The employees are usually teenagers, indifferent, bored, just passing through.
There are two people who have been at the store for at least 20 years and they definitely are invested and personal in their service.

Every other week or so we take a walk, often on a cold night- the weather is rarely a factor, and enjoy the eight block walk. Sometimes it is a stop and go walk/run of tag, halted at each street corner. In the progression of time, we go accompanied with tricycles, bikes, scooters, skateboards. Sometimes with friends allowing a more leisurely walk as the kids can entertain with their buddies. It is always something we look forward too. There were days when we could get away with just handing the toddler a spoon with a tiny bit of ice cream, then later days when I was always asked to complete the deal ("i've had enough/it's too cold") and I surely would.

Once, on one hot evening my scoop slid off the cone because of a poor placement and an aggressive slurp, diving down to a grungy curbside death but saved inches by my reactive grasp. Never have I felt more virile than in that moment. No jokes, please.

Once a year I order licorice which the kids refer to as "concrete". I think Swensen's makes only one tub of this stuff to honor a tradition which only I seem to be excited about. Otherwise, I'm in for peppermint stick, or mountain blackberry (off the menu these days), or some random flavor. I'm very fond of the spinning wheel concept at Polly Ann's in the Sunset District, and for our infrequent visits there, it's the wheel every time. Secretly I hope for the possibly repulsive Durian fruit.

Dexter and Oliver usually order some variation of mocha, or sticky chewy chocolate (no relation) although Oliver will choose strawberry and Maria, a mint or chocolate chip, or spumoni.
Hey guys, give us a call. Let's take the walk. Perhaps stop at ZA! Pizza for dinner before.
Bring the kids. Let's go.

Assembly Bill 376

What now, Politicians!? First your stupid happy meal ban.

Now, a bill by the politicians in California to ban shark fin soup. Whaaat?
Speaking for my peeps as I've never been asked to speak for my peeps, what else are we gonna have at banquets? This is clearly a bill to starve all Chinese people in California by the great great grandfathers of the makers of the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882.

Sharks are migratory creatures- so what if this bill would protect sharks that live much of the time in US waters but would be killed in the Gulf of Mexico- who cares? Do you really want to swim in the ocean with sharks? Stop shark fin soup and we'll be forced to import dolphin fin soup from Japan, which is way too gelatinous.

A reputable food magazine rated the top 4 foods of all time:
1. ice cream 2. shark fin soup 3. Gerber apple and peaches
4. delicate food sprinkles that fall off the top of William Shatner's head

Top of the food chain? Remove sharks and we mess with the eco-system? Last time I checked- Humans are the top of the food chain. How many World Series have sharks won? For that matter, how many Stanley Cups have the Sharks won? Here's the answer; none.
We're number one. Besides, where's the discussion from sharks talking about banning munching on people? Is there any dialogue about that? Haven't heard it.

Yes, January Jones is a cool shark advocate but if chameleons can grow back a tail, and we can grow back a kidney or a liver or something, who is to say that a shark can't grow back a fin? I mean, have you checked? Or are you just believing the media? Right, Lady Antebellum really is the best band of the year.

Shark fin soup as status and a show of wealth? Every time I've been presented with shark fin soup at a banquet- I didn't pay for it. Every time I've had sizzling rice soup, i've paid for it. So let's ban sizzling rice soup first; the sizzle and the fizzle is not environmental. Reputable scientists suggest that sizzling rice soup contributes to global warming- there is no documentation that shark fin soup contributes to global warming.

Bill 376 would set off a slippery slope- what's next? Tiger Penis?

Game On

RBI! Fear the Beard! Fear the Kid in the Beard! New Kids in the Beards!
After a seven year absence, decided to sign up for cable again- one year only (price gets double jacked after one year). Giants, Stanford Women NCAA's, Charles Barkley, Dirty Jobs, Myth Busters, Conando, Men of A Certain Age, Justified, Star Trek reruns....In explaining the conditions of viewing to the kids, Maria made it clear that we would not be watching more television...they may not but I will.

thank you Eileen for the beard that looks like a beard and not a manta ray (but manta rays are cool!)

I Won't Kick Your Chair

I remember some friends telling me about seeing Prince one night during his Sign O' the Times tour- the crowd was jumping, the music was almighty but one man continued to sit. One of my friends said that she kept kicking his chair until he got up. This is how I feel about the marketing around Valentines Day. Stop kicking my chair! Don't worry, I'm already standing. I'm actually pretty happy with some covert sweets from New Orleans, especially since I'll probably eat 75% of 'em.

My attention turns to people i don't really know well but have known of, for many years. We've grown older together; interacted, friendly acquaintances. People that were my customers, or folks in the neighborhood-still. Friends perhaps, friendly at least. In my day you could get away with anything short of murder in your 20's- it may not be this way now. At some point or another we were all drunks, or artists or artistic drunks. In our 30's this would begin to be more suspect, definitely a problem if it lasted into our 40's...

Yet others were on a bright path; full of life and desire. Brilliant in their way, gallant, glamorous, a magnetic force. It was a choice, it was an unfortunate turn of events, it was life as it happens leaving them now alone. I see some in seemingly run down apartment buildings still gallant souls, and warm hearts. They may have wanted and chosen this path and might be the happier for it and if so, then may it continue. I know that with some fate played a cruel hand and they are alone, without the means to live in comfort and the freedom to be mobile. Their prospects seem dim, and perhaps their time has passed.

My fortune is immense; to have a partner and children who affirm and give meaning to life. In a practical sense, a two person income allows the potential of mobility, and an ability to breathe in a big city. To those individuals that survive on their means alone, it must be difficult, nearly impossible to plan ahead. The path life takes can be irreverent, choices and fortune stubborn, contrary. On Valentine's Day, I am grateful for my fortune, my luck. For those that have known otherwise, i hope for better days.

The Craftsman

Sometimes I wake up feeling a bit down. Thankfully as I've gotten older, it happens less. Yesterday it probably had much to do with it being my mom's birthday- but as I recall my mom didn't have 10 birthdays in a year. But it's relatively a rare feeling- really too much to be grateful for, too much of an opportunity that each day provides.

After a funny phone call with my Dad, going outside in the sun and tossing a big soft yellow ball with Oliver, I was feeling good again (please remind me to get outside sooner with a ball, thank you). We went to dinner last night (U-Lee, again!) with my Dad coming out here!, brother, sister and Kevin. Although no one mentioned my mom's birthday, she was there. Later, Dext and I watched a show and and this was the theme of the program: time heals all wounds and yet absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Previous to this blog, I kept a written journal as much for her as for the boys. This current format works better as it is easier to find and easier to add pictures. However, here is an entry from 2/18/10.

Dear Mom, It seems like its been a busy year. Sorry that I haven't written to you in some time. However i think about you everyday. Maria does too and you would be happy to know that both Dexter and Oliver miss you and talk about you. Dexter keeps a picture of you by his bed and whenever I seem to stumble or seem sad, he rushes to my side. Oliver had a dream that you and him were fighting bad guys. Maria makes sure that the boys remember you. Dad passed his drivers test recently (third try but one time he forgot his reading glasses). We had dinner with Traci on your birthday. I think she came out for Dad (and you) . We ate on Balboa Street. Thank you for all the help you provided us and the grace to plan for the future.

It gets a bit lengthy filling in on the rest of the family: Ann and John (Maria's parents), Bobby and Meredyth's upcoming wedding, nephew Johnny in Iraq, everyone. I hope that she is here, watching over us- if only for curiosity's sake in the present, if only to be close to the boys, and as a lasting presence that existed so long in my life. I am not so sure that someone lives on- I hope so, but of course, do not know so but much as a the work of a craftsman survives existing in a physical sense, then this is how May Chew survives; her deeds, her thoughts, and in me.

Awkward Science

in the spring of 1989 this young chubby innocent lad had no way of knowing what would soon await him, hardening his outlook on life and the people around him



Not long ago, I commented how I enjoy an awkward silence. For me it can mean something unplanned and unusual can transform as chrysalis to connection. At its worst, participants might come out of it feeling like idiots but i've become used to that feeling. Out from the comfort zone, this moment may provide a sensation of life and the opportunity of the now. While we remember those that have become "arrrgh" memories, the interaction created from its unpredictable nature creates possibilities borne from that very awkward silence. Sure beats a generic "how are you"- but wait, you're walking away before I really tell you how I am"... Yes, at times it feels close to stumbling upon a mountain lion while taking a private pee in the woods. It's a way of looking at a glass half full. At least you got to pee. If every sentence here seems to contradict the previous, then it justifies what it took you guys 20 years to learn; your dad babbles.

Despite these gallant words, the truth is the glass is sometimes half empty. Half empty and getting drier by the second. If all things occur for a reason, then the reason still eludes me for the meaning behind the day of the most unpleasant of moments, (not involving someone hitting my face or bad tuna). I wish I could make the screen go fuzzy as I think back, way back, to an earlier day, a spring day in 1989.

I was managing a popular cafe that had an old soda fountain set beneath a large domed ceiling of glass to reflect a double rainbow. A good spring morning altered by the delivery of the day's mail, as clouds covering the color from my sky. A hand written letter addressed to me, writing unfamiliar, from New York. Fan mail, I joked. And yet, it was. A letter, from an ex-employee pledging her love and admiration, that we were meant to be "soul mates"... whaaaat? I need to backtrack. First this is an example how some events can occur completely without sense, and completely out of the blue. Secondly, this involves people i haven't spoken to in over a decade but if for some reason I do (see previous sentence), then this entry will quietly disappear.

She had worked at our store for less than four months, a summer before returning to New York for school. I did not consider this at the time but she was probably shy but she seemed contrary, unhappy, sarcastic and unwilling to participate. In my attempts to get her work to where we would have liked it to be, I felt frustrated and impatient. However for whatever unknown reason, this apparently was translated as the opposite in the space time continuum mixupuum opium? we existed in. I never could get much effort from her at work, certainly not enthusiasm but that was months ago, and I would not see her again.

So here's the odd part. She was the girlfriend of a good friend who also worked at another store.
He was someone who i became good friends with for our similar tastes in baseball and laughing at people. (as everyone knows now, today I laugh with people). We created the Hall of Legends, a silly way to pay tribute to past and present legendary ice cream scoopers. People didn't get the joke as we were shocked to have them lobby for themselves or others. One of the owners insisted we place his mother up on the wall (not so far fetched really).

I was stunned to read the letter- it took me minutes to recall who was writing it. It was inconceivable that there could be any misinterpretation of our relationship (I think I know how any friendly barista, usually female can find themselves in this undesired place). Feeling completely thrown, I looked up to see my friend, walking in to visit me. Now?? What were the chances- NOW??! He was in a great mood happy to hang out. I was completely ill at ease and ill altogether, hurriedly jamming the letter in to my back pocket. I poured him a cup of coffee, we sat, I tried to make small talk, acting as if I was acting, then excused myself to compose myself in back.

Minutes later, when I returned, ready to visit, deciding against disclosing the fiasco, my friend seemed agitated, as if he had had 20 cups of coffee in the few moments that I had left. His voice, brittle and fighting himself, stabbed these words:
"when you got up, you dropped a piece of paper. I was going to bring it to you but the writing looked familiar.."
My eyes lept over him, across the street. My tongue swung backwards hiding behind my tonsils. My heart sunk, crashing into my undergarments but that was not my heart. My breath, strangled. He continued,
"what the fuck is going on?!
How do you say that you have no idea? How do you say that you were 100% clueless? How do you say "I never liked her- I thought she was a zombie?" How do you say anything?

Awkward Silence. It stinks.


early picture of me, 1967. like the kid in Eight is Enough, pretty much the same shaggy haircut for the first 25 years of my life

Make The Sale

It's a relief to be back from my trip to Egypt. Chaos! I was sent over by Pitney to renew our contract with the Egyptian government negotiating for another 30 years and to showcase our new stamp machines. The PBowles XRGood600 is lighter, faster with max RAM as no other stamp machine has had before.

Apparently some people over there aren't happy about their President signing up for another score and 10, which to me is just plain nuts. If we had the smarts to have had a President for 30 years we could have had President Reagan for another 22, and he would only have been dead for six of those years,- but think about all he could have accomplished. America would have ended poverty!! (sending the poor to Haiti and New Orleans). Changing our minds every 4-8 years is nuts, and a waste of time. In 2012 we'll go back to a conservative candidate, get sick of him, and change our minds in 2016. Vote 'em out of office? That's a waste of paper and effort- just feeds into repeating the cycle. Better to keep 'em in office; keep the same guy around and you don't have to bother with the responsibility of making decisions. How many evenings are wasted cramming through the election books?- My life was easier before I had to pay bills or do the laundry, or vote. Let them feast on a buffet of the countries resources- just toss us a bone or two, now and then.

President Mubarak, who our team affectionately refers to as the Prez with the Fez has learned the advantages with keeping certain things the way they are- less hassles. Also, there's more cool name tie ins that people aren't getting: For example and note Legal Dept: for free, Obama's campaign slogan in 2012: Mu barak? Mo' Barak! 4 MO'!!

With stamp machine in hand (it's only 4 pounds!) and just a light travel bag, i landed in Cairo Sunday night and the place was jamming. I foolishly thought the hordes of folks were waiting for me; the lights were low but no one yelled "surprise" or "welcome". Obviously most of these folks were wanting to get out. Not me. I had business to do and a contract to honor. Catching a taxi (advice: negotiate your daily rates) with an odd fellow by the name El Spitzer- said he was from New York but needed to move to Egypt for therapy for his bad back, we drove into town. El said that people weren't happy with being kept down; that at one point, they actually dug the President as a good man. However he enjoyed the post of top dog too long scheming to keep the gig in the family- his soul hardened to the plight of the working folk...blah, blah, blah. Amidst the obvious unrest before me- people in the streets wandering in all directions, voices crashing as thousands of simultaneous home run calls, smoke and cracking of things burning,, I needed to get out and finish my quest on foot.

It was difficult to make my way through the mass of people as they bumped into me, glaring, considering my motives but continually moving forward in whichever direction they headed. The whole scene made me nervous, unsettled. At one point some idiot grabbed my stamp machine and already on edge, I let him have it. Furious, I must have punched him ten times. Only later did i realize that the dude who I thought was trying to steal the XRGood600 was CNN news guy Anderson Cooper.

Apparently he slipped trying to avoid some government sponsored goons, using his hands to brace himself on my stamp machine. If you can get any footage of Cooper getting pounded on, when the people move away, you can see me doing the Brian Wilson salute to the sky move. Cooper, I apologize. I wish you had said something other than stop and please don't do this.
I don't watch CNN or the news but if you had offered something like, "Me. on SNL. with Pee Wee Herman" in a Shatner like cadence- we'd be all good.

I couldn't tell what was going on really- only that no one seemed especially happy. I was just hoping that if these really were goons sent by the government or, just the government un-governing, I wanted to be out of there before they decided to handle civilian unrest as China does; by sending tanks in to run over everybody. Make lemonade out of lemons? In China, it's making tomato juice out of people.

Anyway to make this story complete, found my Hani (President Mubarak), made the sale and we should be good for another 30 years...unless the people get in the way. Don't screw it up like you did over here messing with Nixon.

Postscript: Darn! I thought I had found Hani Mubarak on Facebook. I thought if 5 or 6 of us could reach out to him, we could end this thing. We could all sign our names to a message like:
"Hey man, this is so uncool. Sincerely" That would work on Twitter too. Marching in the streets is so old school; social protest of the future is all about networking on Facebook. Plus you can half watch a Charlie Sheen sitcom at the same time. I typed this sentence while I finished my lunch, pretended to work, and feeling heartfelt stuff for people in Egypt. Maybe Hani Mubark is the same guy.