Big Two Make Twenty

I'd like to think that getting older will not mean becoming set in my ways; inflexible, rigid, conservative. I would like to find ways of being a connector; a pathway for a community. I was able to provide this when I managed the cafe and while I don't miss the drama, i do miss this- and am seeking a way to connect, again. There are thankfully, role models.

I now understand that when we get older we close ranks, seeking to provide for our family- our world becomes smaller. When we are younger, curious about other places, traveling and believing that our community is large, including the poor and less fortunate. A family transforms the individual by giving meaning and purpose; working, even on a bad day gives a reason to keep on. It's not that they care less for the homeless guy down the street or children without water in Africa but their primary concern was to take care of their family first. For some, taxation and government programs undercut this ability to take of their families and contrary to their younger selves, they have become conservative. It's a type of understandable selfishness.

I am inspired by John, Maria's father who in these later years has come into communities of families to work with those in need of shelter and food. He has become an active advocate for the less fortunate, adapting his world view to believe that the poor are constantly manipulated to benefit the privileged and power brokers. At dinner conversations he often brings up The Shock Doctrine by Naomi Klein. It is a book that illustrates the practice by the United States where our government has taken advantage of a political or environmental disaster to manipulate countries and communities to benefit our form of capitalism. John's advocacy extends to city hall meetings, and in the direct collection and distribution of food and blankets. In my eighties, I hope to be as connected to the world, not drowned in my drama.

Any good neighborhood with nearby stores will have a hardware store and a corner grocery store. Any good neighborhood where neighbors know their neighbors will have someone who stops by to say hello, to offer assistance for those that are aching, or limited in their mobility, who will make the cats of the neighborhood fat and someone who is well versed in the TMZ of the community than the politics of the globe. Ann, Maria's mom is that person. Also, to their big extended family, Ann and John provide shelter for all comers. When we visit, it always feels like home to me. Maria and I are both fortunate to still be able to spend frequent time in the places we grew up in. Whether I am the rooms of 30th Avenue or Ruby Street, I joyfully plop down somewhere, anywhere, grab a newspaper and float. I might clean a dish now and then, but the feeling is the same as sitting in a nice warm bath tub.

They have been big supporters of my pursuits. Dexter and Oliver continually benefit from having Ann and John as grandparents. Happily our sets of parents got on very well- our mothers would send each other cards and notes. My role models leave me a very clear path to follow.


(PS: dear family members, please do not forward this edition!)

I Like Nicholas Cage

I like that Nicholas Cage is also fond of San Francisco and New Orleans. At one point in time he had residences in both. In the news last week for his continuing personal and legal troubles but at least his recent conflict in New Orleans keeps Nola in the headlines. He's also dealing with the loss of his father and Cage is smart enough to know that any publicity for a movie star is often better than none at all.

The difference between his nutty behavior and others is that Cage has continually worked- at least one film every year since '85, and every few years turns in an effort that i really enjoy. He continually contributes to a body of work that overall is impressive. Having stated that, I think he's made more bad movies than good, some horrible films and many that he did primarily for the payday (and I won't blame him for not turning down $10 million for 3 months work).

It's boring to me when Cage is cast as an action hero, or a bad man that is really a good guy. More of interest is when he takes on characters who are conflicted, confused, who accept life as being a strange existence, who are neither clearly bad or good, but complex in their motivation, or lack of motivation. When his characterizations have this level of complexity, even his over the top reactions work.
Bad Lieutenant Port of Call New Orleans (2009) is a movie that grossed a very meager 1.6 million and it's certainly a crazy piece with Cage playing a tired drug addicted cop. It is not a tale of redemption. The film sometimes takes the point of view of lizards- why are lizards in the movie? I don't know. Just as crazy is how he can make movies like this and also have mass acceptance in National Treasure 2 (didn't see that one) which grossed nearly 220 million. In 1997 he made the intriguing Face Off but balanced this with standard fare the Rock and Con Air, sort of big budget Steven Seagal-like movies. Bad Lieutenant Port Of Call New Orleans (perhaps it did poorly for who would want to put that title on a movie marque?) is a Warner Herzog movie- himself an interesting film maker.

From Raising Arizona (1987), Red Rock West (1993), Bringing Out the Dead (1999), Matchstick Men (2003), supporting parts in Moonstruck ('87) and Peggy Sue Got Married ('86) , Cage drives his characters, takes chances, and fascinates. Never did finish Adaptation (2002) and Wild At Heart (1990) but I plan on giving them another shot. As for the film that he won an Oscar for, Leaving Las Vegas (1995) I've never viewed it but will this weekend.

In several of his films, his characters seem to exhaust themselves and end up resting on a woman, who is also lost and searching. Perhaps it is the pursuit of searching for peace in a crazed society that he continually explores that I find appealing. Additionally the definition of peace is a subjective one, to the individual.

The Man Without A Face

He entered the store with a slow stride, finding his way to where he could place his order. People stared, and stared more when they thought that he might not be able to see them stare. His face was striking, resembling melted layers of uneven wax and plastic, his eyes cratered with skin, his left eye two inches below the level of the other.

I was not proud of my reaction. When I first saw him, I was horrified. An overly warm greeting but served with a cold heart for I could only think about the physical difference between us. Would every place that he walked into for the first time- would he hear the hesitation in voices of those that served him? Or the gasp of someone who happened to look up?

We became part of his routine. In getting his daily coffee he allowed us to know him. I felt as if I had the opportunity to reclaim my humanity. I no longer thought about how different we were but enjoyed seeing the ways we were similar. Both fathers. Both working to provide. Both wishing to exist, to live. Both in unguarded moments riding the bus, sarcastic.

Sometimes I see people that have suffered an accident, an attack or have lived with a condition that many of us would find difficult to bear. At times you see fear or shame in the eyes of these individuals as if they are still comprehending how to push forward.

He never cowered or hid. His voice was gentle but he would not accept excessive help, nor tolerate anyone's pity. Neither feeling a need to explain or what would have been truly horrific, to apologize. Treat me differently and I will kick your ass was always implicitly in the air. We could fill his coffee with milk and put a lid on the cup- that was all he needed, or wanted. He appreciated that but no need to help with the door, or the way back to his job, or on the bus.

He is at peace with who he is, and for anyone this is a huge step. Know who you are, to the core so if the skin peels, it will not affect the soul, the mind, the being. I first saw him as one less than me and felt sorry, frozen in pity- but he was moving, moving with a cup of coffee to provide respite from the work day. Fuck you, if there's a problem- it's your problem. We all have burdens to live with- he was not hiding- he is living, beyond existing, moving forward. The problems that people have with his appearance are worthless to him.

Vibrant as a dimmer on a light switch are yesterday's memories but however illuminated can not be altered. He is living for this day. I can hear his laughter.

Books Marking Time

This is my back up entry; last night I typed up a good piece but when reviewing it- neglected to save it and lost the entire script-argh.

So instead, books I've read (reading Bringing Out The Dead ) in the last 3 months. D & O, can you remember me sitting with any of these?

The Percy Jackson series are books that Dexter pestered me to read for over a year, and when I finally began one, I enjoyed them immensely. Most of the other books are obvious reads for me, big print and pictures but a few tricked me with covers with bright colors.

The Unnamed is an appealing love story, if an odd one- and also about a man who can not stop walking. David Halberstam has given us many excellent books about sports, politics and the civil rights. He wrote The Children for the young individuals who were the principal players of the civil rights movement, and follows them to today. Whether it was the shy Diane Nash or the stuttering John Lewis- both knew only that they had to pursue truth and fairness, surprising themselves and discovering courage in the process of doing.











































Thanks to Cap'n Mike for the Cavett, The Delta Blues and Waiting For The Sun and a few others I haven't finished yet!

Notes From A Game

4.24.11 Sunday v. the Atlanta Braves.

Before the Braves moved to Atlanta from Milwaukee in the 1960's, the baseball team in Atlanta was the Atlanta Crackers, a minor league team. An odd choice for a name, or appropriate for the times. Could the Giants change their name to the San Francisco Radicals? {A few days later, it is reported that the Braves pitching coach threatened some fans with a bat, told a parent that a baseball game is no place for children and made homophobic slurs}

Even odder is that there was a Negro League team that called themselves, the Black Crackers.

There's a guy at my work who occasionally wears an Atlanta Crackers jersey, believing he is honoring the Negro League team. I tried to explain the difference but believes the only Crackers are Black Crackers. Coolness should come with appropriate research.

We get to the game an hour and 15 early. Very bummed that the freebie, replica World Series trophy (a reasonable person would see it as tin junk) are already dispensed, and we will get zero.
I know they will go for $40 on Ebay, but $20 in a year, and probably $10 in two.

Pre-game radio story about pitchers needing to know the umpires as well as the hitters they will be facing (every umpire has a different ball and strike zone, and temperament). Today this is a more formal and difficult task; sixty plus umpires now when Krukow and Kuiper (former players, now radio announcers) played twenty five years ago, there were only 30 umpires. Back in the day Kuiper recalls giving an umpire a glove and that umpire crews would have teams sign a box of balls for them before a game. Once an umpire requested that a Giant star, Will Clark sign an entire box. Clark, in his glass shattering southern voice, grumbled about granting this favor- but saying that the umpire better treat him right that day.That day, the umpire called Clark out twice- on third strike calls. An angry Clark swearing that he would never sign a ball for that ump (Bill Engel) again. He didn't.

Giants down 2-0 as the first three Braves batters get on (walk, Haywood double, Chipper Jones double). This series the Giant pitchers have given up too many free passes- 11 walks to only 1 from the Braves.

Bottom 4: BusterPosey crushes one, game tied 2-2. Sanchez pitched well, is fighting low energy from a flu and leaves after five innings.

Overheard, behind us, in the seventh inning: "I think the first time he proposed- I broke up with him. I was so pissed."

Affeldt walks two and with two outs and two strikes, Heywood hits a big big fly over the fence. Braves up 5-2. Affeldt has only pitched twice to Heywood and two times, two home runs. I don't think Affeldt will pitch to him ever again. A fan sees someone in a Phillies hat, and says,
"the Phillies suck! " The Phillies have the best record in baseball (it's only 20 games but still...) Baseball is great- the casual fan never has the need to feel intellectually lacking. In the company of drunken louts, we are all Einsteins.

Bottom 7: Big Giants rally. Hits by Sandoval, Burrell (actually hitting to the opposite field instead of trying to pull everything!), and Ross. Tejada draws a walk and a RBI. Schierholtz grounds in another run and Aaron Rowand is up and swinging at pitches in the dirt again. I'm getting into my Aaron Rowand is a bum mode until...Rowand delivers a clutch double, driving in two runs!! Giants now lead 6-5; the place is crazy. I love Aaron Rowand.

T8: Sergio Romo, the kind hearted crafty one who occasionally hangs a breaking pitch that does not break and will give up a home run now and then. It's now and then as Dan Uggla (always swinging for a home run type of player) ties the game. It's 6-6. The ball park is very quiet. Javy Lopez comes in and pitches well. Giant can't manufacture any offense B8.

T9: Wilson is in. Crazy beard should be harvested, clipped and sold as licorice cotton candy. He pitches well in the ninth but not in the tenth. Gives up three runs- yes, there's a crazy walk involved and the Giants can not answer. Braves win 9- 6. Giants were 10-7 a few days ago but at the end of this day, their record is 10-11.

Last year's division playoff series the Giants just edged by the Braves to move on and Brave fans might argue that they were missing two of their starters providing the difference. Both played in this 3 game set and Atlanta won all three. Perhaps they were right but those are the breaks.
I think I've been sitting in to much sun.

Earth Day Best Practice, And For Miles

Today is Earth Day. Remember to Conserve.
I am answering v e r y
s l o w l y t o d a y.
D o n 't e x p e c t
m e t o m o v e f a s t .
M u s t d o m y p a r t
t o s a v e
r e s o u r c e s .

P e a c e Y ' a l l .
An entertaining watch with a subtle environmental theme is "Local Hero" with Burt Lancaster primarily filmed in a small town in Scotland.


Today is the birthday of Miles who was born five months before Dexter, just as Maya bookends Dex, four months after him. April 22, since "87 (I don't recall Earth Day being of note back then, if even an observed date) had been a day of infamy for me. A scary incident had for many years since made this date an uncomfortable point in the year. Time helped create a safe distance but more so, the event of Miles' birth on April 22, 1998 completely changed its meaning providing light to where there was shadow. Unexpected.

I've always joked- well, it's his joke and not a particularly funny one- Mile's dad, Richard has always said that he was the culprit many years ago. The truth is, no one could have more courageous in running blindly to possible danger to assist me. So if you ever meet someone who wants to tell you that Ronnie is a hard guy, take it from me- Ricky Rhody is tops in my book; honest, direct and a good man. Miles has been a good friend to Dext and is always happy to see us. We are always happy to see him.

It's nearly midnight and until I set down these words it's been only Miles who gives April 22 meaning. His existence is living, growing- the other thing is just a story which had a beginning and an ending. For the record, Mile's fathers' name is not Richard, Ronald, or Ricky. It is Robert.
Add in equal parts Lisa and Wade and you've got a mighty fine family unit.

To The Victor Goes The Soda

Our friend Hobbs took a long break from her blog last month- although has returned in full press. She listed about 50 or so activities where March took her. One topic that would catch the attention of any reader is this:

"Had a 2L soda drinking contest (complete with puking)"

Now not something you would contemplate that any reasonable person should strive to accomplish but it is a particular (peculiar) talent. Because Hobbs has a full plate of topics to pursue (and it's obvious I do not) I've been allowed to write about this event.

As Schwarz, Nick and Dexter and multitudes have experienced, Hobbs is a very competitive person. Seeing someone toss a coin in the air, Hobbs will immediately challenge the stranger to
who can toss their coins the highest. To date, Hobbs has lost $14,295.12.

We often hear of these great soda drinking contests- any 2L soda, gulped down to completion and another win for Hobbs. It's sort of that story-again?. Having a lot of miles from my frequent work travels to Hayward, I decided to use them and fly up to Seattle and settle this once and for all.

With a hired photographer in tow to document the competition, we flew up north. I grabbed the only 2L sodas at the Hudson News ship at Sea-Tac Airport, made the call, and we settled on a time for the 2L challenge. I immediately began to line my stomach with dairy and soda stabilizers. Then drove to the destination point. Cue the western music.

I can write all I want but the pictures tell the story. So here with just a few helpful notes, is the big event.



Soda2L2011. Hobbs v. Chew


Ready,Set....














GO!









This is not a pleasant thing to do. It is very uncomfortable...



























UH- OH!!!!






(photographer actually caught my very last drop!)
I am not going to gloat. However we noticed a bunch of odd things that for a lack of a better term, came out of Sarah. The photographer documented it in the next photo: streams of cola, along with key chain! coins! and a note....










Thank goodness Schwarz was there to help Hobbs along- who to her credit kept smiling. And in truth perhaps I was the boxer who was still standing at the end but not feeling my best- but knowing that having done my best, that my reward was victory.


the photographer wanted to be sure that he got his face on this page. {his brother had to do his homework.} He will add the victory photo later...

Vindication!

At work I've been kind of bummed. Since February (2/11 to be precise) we...I have been a bit under the gun for losing a package- it happened to be a fairly high value item; a new replacement phone. One consideration is this is the only one in two year- not so bad really; ball players {here come the baseball similies} drop fly balls that they should have caught and batters miss a big fat pitch-practically jumping out of their shoes when they see it, and strike out. What bothered me is that I knew I had the package earlier in the day and was fairly certain that I had mail slotted the thing correctly. But because I know other people are certain that they saw Elvis purchasing kumquats at the corner store, or that they saw space aliens before lighting up or witnessed Senator Larry Craig doing odd things in a public bathroom- if those people are wrong, I suppose I can be too. Also it didn't feel right to put the blame on anyone but myself, and that's what I did.

Two months of people (not the home folks in this place- they've been very nice) questioning my actions again and again; some tactfully and kindly. I even offered to pay out of pocket when I found out that the content in the folded up envelope was not a dvd or battery but a new phone.

Then today, the nice person (let's call him "J") who had to wait while the questions were pursued (can't we take care of him first?) brought me the original package with the phone inside (he had gotten another a month ago)- said it appeared on his desk this morning. What I privately speculated may have in fact occurred; someone else carelessly grabbed his mail and not believing the contents to be of value, buried the envelope under paperwork- or set aside during a long holiday. Finally re-discovering and delivering it to J's desk either late last night or early this morning, months later.

So I never dropped that ball after all. Think Valko's fists riding over the top of his computer screen when Ryan Howard hits a 3 run Jack (or RBI). F**cking Vindication! Yessss!!

Coffee Man And The Musician

One of the fun things about working in a cafe that has a lot of foot traffic is you never can tell what may happen in any given day. It might be the calmest and smoothest of operations or a day when a disagreement between two customers might erupt into a crazed bloody fist fight, with all hands doing whatever they can to keep people from killing each other. That day, looking back was a fun one (because instinctively we worked together to keep the peace), with memories of customers screaming and running behind the counter for safety.

Another fun part of the gig was when celebrities would walk in- won't lie about that. Mostly the stops were one offs aside from locals like Robin Williams or the Danielle Steele kids or the second time Tom Waits came in in search of a sandwich. Another exception to these drop-ins was (also my friend Ben but that's blog #124) someone who spent a winter and spring with us, living just around the corner.

At the bean counter Lara was debating the merits of country music with a customer but it wasn't until I heard him speak of Bill Monroe and Dolly Parton did I double back and look up. I would not have recognized him otherwise for he seemed so young. I walked back to our small office and looked through the stack of CD's I had brought to play during our morning prep (during all business hours we only played classical music) and there, by astonishing coincidence was the musician. The insert band photo was a goofy capture and this I brought out and asked Chris if he could make that face.

Chris Thile of Nickel Creek was a phenom of the mandolin at a very young age. The type of musician who spends most of his free time playing, experimenting, capturing a sound in the quest for feeling in notes and tones. Allison Krauss produced Nickel Creek's first two albums and he's played on records with Dolly (crazy to me that he can see Parton, and get away with "Hi Dolly"), Paddy Maloney and the Chieftains, Fiona Apple, Elvis Costello & Emmylou Harris as well as being regulars on Prairie Home Companion. Now with his band the Punch Brothers and often working with T-Bone Burnett. Elton John recently said, when asked who he would most like to record with-anyone, said Chris and the Punch Brothers.

Chris was taking time off to relax while his wife was going to art school in SF, and made a daily routine of stopping in around 9:30-10 for a cappuccino, maybe two. We talked about music, and life. As did many of our regulars, he got to know some of the staff. He's a personable, upbeat guy. One afternoon we spent cupping coffee and experimenting on home espresso machines, he pursuing every detail about the La Pavoni. Our small talk was the impending birth of Oliver. It was the first week of April, 2004. Any day, any moment now. If the phone call was from Maria, I would be gone. He asked me about having a family and said how someday he might like this, but not now. He wondered if there would be a day when he would settle down. At the same time I was thinking how cool it would be to be a musician, maybe hanging out with a long haired stranger and while brushing away streams of smoke, say "Hey Willie". My memory sees two men, both holding portafilters dripping espresso grounds considering each others' life as their own, momentarily lost in these thoughts.

The next day was the day Oliver was born. I had given Chris the Pavoni machine to take home to test as he saw fit. After my short leave (10 days? 2 weeks) I returned to work grateful for my good fortune. I didn't see Chris for several months and when I did, he came in only briefly to return the machine. He apologized and took off quickly. I would find out later that he had moved out of his house, and separated from his wife.

No judgments here; just two people realizing who they are and who they had to be.
(Alternate ending: No judgments here; just two people realizing that only one of them could play the mandolin. I like the first ending).

Think About It Before You Start It

Always big on rituals. Always big on fun. Is there a better way to get Oliver going in the morning than encouraging the boy to run over and pop me in the head before I wake up? Of course when I came up with this idea I was awake. It didn't occur to me that I might be sleeping when a now motivated seven year old will willingly get out of bed to get his dear old dad. Feel free to submit the word "dumb" somewhere in there too. There's also a race to get to the breakfast table first to get the Jelly Doughnut, although there rarely is a doughnut.
If I am lucky enough to hear his patter of rushing foot steps, I can turn my head to cushion the blow. It does serve as a very functional morning alarm clock for me, so not a total loss.
For the most part Oliver knows to hold back so he's really not clobbering me. At the same time I can honestly say it's not the most pleasant way to wake up every morning.
I don't recommend this and accept all responsibility as Maria lets me know that I have only myself to blame. I doubt if you will find this methodology in Parenting magazine describing as a good practice- but it works for me. And Oliver. However, I do hope we stop this by the time he's seventeen.


And here are some unrelated photos of last year's Little League Day with the Giants. Unfortunately a parent (not me) who was really into getting good group portraits had the children turn every time a player came over to meet and greet, so the kids didn't really see the players.
Tim Lincecum, Will Clark alumni, and Juan Uribe.







2008, with coach Ron Wotus and
Bengie Molina





Wilson, sans beard but with Sam.