Location Variation

Perhaps I should be more helpful. Perhaps concerned about germs and unpleasant scenarios. Definitely looking out for the welfare of my dear wife. Just the same I instead chose to laugh when Maria started drinking another person's coffee at the airport. (I never order those giant size beverages!) I was shocked when Maria took several sips, only stopping to say how delicious the drink was. Fortunately for Mop the people had just departed to board the plane, leaving a nearly full cup. I couldn't tell her until I stopped laughing. But wait, there's a karma point coming up.

Just short of entering on the plane I began to have an awful feeling that somehow I no longer had my camera; it was on my shoulder but now was not. I checked through my carry on bags and it was not present. I've never left my camera behind and unless it was tucked deep into one of the bags- I would need to decide to ask if I could run back out of plane, in nothing resembling a calm state and search the waiting areas. I wasn't sure how this would go over.

At this same time, a flight attendant inquired if we would be willing to check in one of our bags- at no cost as the overhead bins were getting full. Maria asked if I could first look through the bag for my camera-when the attendant brought the camera forward and said, "this?". Either I had dropped or left it while laughing at Maria and someone must have brought it forward. Funny, if we weren't asked to check in a bag, the question of the camera might not have been put forward- and I surely would have had a panic attack.
Perhaps this was a karma warning; - next time Maria is about to drink another person's beverage-don't laugh, don't high five your sons, have a clean sponge ready to immediately retrieve the potentially harmful liquids. Maria, you can count on me.

Sudden Stop

Everyone who enjoys baseball should go to a minor league game. If you have a league near you, try to go. The quality of play is highest with Triple A but even Single A ball offers an enjoyable experience.
Some players make the jump from Single A straight to the major leagues, just as Buster Posey did last year and as Brandon Crawford did tonight (hitting a grand slam in his first game as a SF Giant- as much to his effort as to teams having no or minimal scouting reports on the young rookie).

Minor league games are certainly less expensive, offer more in- between inning small town-like participation (fan races, contests to win minor prizes), player access, crazy team names (Savannah Sand Gnats, Toledo Mud Hens, Terre Haute Hottentots and on and on), fans are closer to the field- pay attention or risk getting hit by a foul ball. Everything is closer, ballparks are smaller, the feeling is intimate. Additionally many players just out of high school, college or living in the US for the first time with host families.
You might see a Major League Player who was injured getting ready by playing in some minor league games. You might see a player who is trying to get back to the big league by playing in the minors again or older players coaching. We went to see the San Jose Giants recently hoping to see pitching prospect #1 for the Giants, Zack Wheeler and instead saw Brandon Crawford at shortstop.
Following baseball we find as worthwhile because of the bankroll of emotions that can be spent within the life of a season. The greatness is in the thrills and the agony but having a safety net that it is just a game. No one gets seriously hurt...until they do- and then there is the sudden stop. The fun of the game is lost; too close to life. Real losses in life reverberate. Not what I want in sports. A painful loss today is saved with the promise of tomorrow. However when Buster Posey suffers a broken leg plus torn ligaments- the memory of him writhing and clawing deep into the dirt as if he was trying to prevent falling into an abyss, this game stopped being a game- and tomorrow will not absolve today.
An excellent book about minor league baseball is Stolen Season by David Lamb. And a telling difference about minor and major league firework shows is that in a minor league game you have a greater chance of having firework ash land on you.

I Love To Camp

Yet again I needed to convince Maria that a weekend of camping would bring some peace of mind, a connection to nature and the warmth and comfort of family. Let's go! We did.

I am a great camper because I am a happy helpless camper. I do not set up the tent. I benefit from the kindness of relatives who prepare the food. I worry about mosquitoes and do not sleep much. I am wary of camping bathrooms but love the gathering around the fire pit, and those people that I am gathered with.

And my eye on the prize is sturdy and worthy. There is clarity in my motivation and to leave San Francisco, one needs a holy grail as the goal. But camping with the Cupps and the D'Angelos
will always suffice.





the old house in BoulderCreek where so many family memories are.

























Destination Point . Root Beer Floats and Soft Serve :Big Finish!




the drive home

I'm Sorry Johanna Rapp

This is some cool yogurt/shaved ice place in Santa Rosa!

Used to be that I would work all day at the cafe and thrive on 6-7 cups of coffee and a pastry until I got home and then would pursue a hearty dinner.

I never lacked energy. I consider one of my favorite offhand compliments was when an assistant manager- good guy and very laid back pulled me aside and asked me if I was on something.

Now I rarely miss a breakfast or lunch before pursuing a hearty dinner. I will connect the thoughts shortly but first let me bring Johanna Rapp into the discussion.

I worked with Johanna for about five years and again, a little later on when she came back to the cafe. Dedicated, artful eye, thrift store master, never one to pass up a snowball (insert wet soggy rag for snowball) fight in the store during opening hours. One of my favorite people to work with and generally an all around goofball. Johanna is often fond of describing me as having no body odor. I'm sorry Johanna Rapp but the times are a changing.

These days find me working in an enclosed room and on occasion I've detected some unpleasant smells; dead mouse? rotting food? Oliver's hair? The person that just left the room ? No. The path leads back to...me. Apparently the secret to not having an unpleasant body odor is to spend your waking hours consuming only coffee and a pastry. After dinner, with sleep to cover -by the time I got up at 4:30 in the morning, I had slept the sulfur out of my system. Perhaps I slept oh, odorous but Maria never complained- or was awake either. Now, with breakfast, lunches so readily available my system has been altered. My friends, consider that there are always consequences and no amount of talc powder can change this.

And to you, Johanna my sincerest of apologies for I can no longer be the person that you think I am. And by the way -you and Tim should move back to San Francisco. We miss you.

Freedom Riders

Just came across the notice that on PBS tonight is a special about the Freedom Riders. Of our young, of our leaders, few have been as brave as them. To this day the concept of the rides is difficult to fathom and there could have been a recruiting pitch that went like this:

"We're looking for volunteers to ride buses through the most racist parts of this country. You won't know when it's gonna come but at some point the bus will be stopped and hordes of angry hateful people will get on the bus and either address you as "nigger" or "nigger lover". They will then attempt to crush your head with their fists, pipes, knives, and anything they can get their hands on. You will not fight back. We will show you how to curl up and keep your brain matter in your heads but that's about it. If you want to help protect you neighbor, you place your body in harms' way. Forget about the police because some of these people will be the police. If you're lucky, you might only be spat on and kicked. Don't worry so much about the fire; it's the smoke and gas fumes you might be concerned about. So who's our first volunteer?"

Make your funeral arrangements before you leave. Getting on a bus to hell. Who wants to volunteer? And yet, there were volunteers. Although it would have been a huge lift for everyone if Doctor King went along- he considered doing so- but he most likely would have been killed. While everyone on the bus understood, it probably felt a little lonelier. They received a full police escort until at one point in Alabama, the police all...left. A crowd was waiting and the bus was set on fire. As the riders exited the bus, they were hit hard and often; broken teeth, faces, bones. Some of the white riders were beaten even with more vile and hate for this perceived trespass. Saved from death by people passing by in their cars or people walking by who were willing to take the battery on themselves. An undercover agent for the Kennedy administration (as much there to spy on the riders) tried to stop the carnage by identifying himself was also hit by lead pipes.

Other rides were accompanied by more beatings; crazed mob violence. At one bus station, the feeding frenzy even took down one of the KKK's own- he had just gotten out of the bathroom and walked into the feeding frenzy and was mistaken for one of the sympathizers. Eventually the riders were taken to the worst penitentiary in Mississippi, a move approved by the Kennedy administration, hoping to end the rides. However more volunteers came forward and eventually 400 riders were in the penitentiary, coming from all parts of our country creating a community of peaceful forceful Freedom Riders. The Kennedy administration saw that there would be no stopping of the volunteers and they then pressed for the end of segregation in the South.
(this is when the Southern States began their turn to Republican States).

One of the riders was John Lewis, a young man who grew up on a farm, stuttered whenever he spoke publicly. Not long after being stitched back up from a freedom ride, he marched from Selma to Montgomery and suffered a fractured skull by another hateful mob. Today John Lewis has served as a respected congressman for the good state of Georgia. He has publicly forgave even the idiots that clubbed him on the head. He struck the a blow to John McCain's campaign when he called out McCain for letting his campaign run ads that were racist- McCain's respect for Congressman Lewis made this the most difficult accusation that he personally faced during the Presidential Campaign.

Another great person (none of these folks set out to be great- they just did what they thought was the right thing to do) and hero of mine is Diane Nash, pictured above. Although picked as a leader with the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee for her thoughtfulness and people skills, Nash was shy and full of considerable doubt . After a bombing at a residence of an attorney who had defended the protesters of segregated lunch counters, there was a march in Nashville to demand the end of racial segregation. Several thousand people had joined the march to city hall. When Mayor Ben West tried to appease the crowd with generalizations and colorful meaningless words, Nash stood firm and boldly challenged the Mayor to end discrimination, specifically if his words meant the segregated lunch counters, and now. West, trying to say that it was really up to the store managers, backed down. The time was now. He had not expected the force that was Diane Nash or ultimately, the power of doing the right thing.

Big Bu and Ashes to Ashes

Not those type of ashes. Just in case you guys ever wondered about that odd bag you may have found in my top drawer, let me tell you about it. You should know the story or upon discovery, you would draw some conclusions and toss it. It's a bit more complicated than you think- so before you trash it, read this out and after shaking your head, go ahead and let it go.

In that plastic baggy is the ends of a cigarette smoked by one of the great musicians, Art Blakey. Do some research on Bu and the Jazz Messengers before concluding that your pops had lost his mind one evening in 1988. You see, I knew that DNA was going to be the big deal and that one day we could create a master race of really great drummers. No, I had no idea; I just wanted a souvenir as no other- and that night to my surprise, I received another.

Your mother and I were sitting at the front table by the bandstand of a small club called Kimball's West somewhere in Hayes Valley -Grove Street? and at the beginning and the end of the set Blakey would talk awhile. Later in his career he made a point of appealing to the audience for preserving jazz as art but always kept a cigarette nearby. Since our table was closest he used our ashtray (you could still smoke in clubs, and restaurants) as his ashtray and I didn't mind (especially since any club, coffee shop were often full of smoke). At some point after the set, I saw my opportunity -it probably occurred to me during the show- which was always lively and fun. As I recall this gathering of Jazz Messengers had two tenors (Willie Williams and Javon Jackson is another guess) and featuring many a chase. Blakey would recruit and develop young musicians encouraging them to write and arrange, then send them off to spread the gospel. Wayne Shorter, Freddie Hubbard, Terrence Blanchard, Bobby Watson, Marsalis brothers, Curtis Fuller, Donald Harrison, Mulgrew Miller, Kenny Garrett, Lee Morgan, Cedar Walton, Kenny Dorham, Benny Golson...on and on. Some of my favorite players today, Miguel Zenon, Renee Rosnes would most likely have spent time in the Jazz Messengers if I had this cigarette DNA clone thing going; Bu2!

After the second set I approached Blakey for an autograph for a friend (Kelli of Double Rainbow). Blakey looked at me, growled "I saw you watching" and then punched me hard in the chest. I fell back a few steps- initially quite stunned as he laughed and signed the memorabilia. Maybe a fan has a large amount of tolerance but I always appreciated what he did for this reason; he knew that I would always remember the moment and as great musicians do, it's about being in that moment and creating a distinctive individual moment. It doesn't happen alone but is borne from an interaction that can create something unexpected and lasting.

So now you guys know the story with that cigarette in the plastic baggy. What you choose to do with it has my blessing and understanding. But do know that in a wierd sort of way, it was a treasure of mine.
Love,
Dad

6/13 additional note: Captain Mike informs me that Merle Haggard has as a treasured keepsake a partially smoked cigar of Bob Wills. Somehow this story made me very happy.

We Live In The Big City

It's not always a good thing. It's something we question ourselves, on occasion. The possibilities of owning a house! and the peace of mind of safety, the kids playing in front of home without us watching over them-and knowing their neighbors are elements we want for them but the reality is this is not their reality. How much darkness do they pass each day? How much sadness should they bear witness to, the isolated and lonely, mentally troubled, angry folks? And yes, in every community there are these conditions but certainly more prevalent in crowded city spaces.

It's just that here, in San Francisco where people have decided to live or others who find that they can not leave- proximity and interaction creates a template where anything can happen. It is this uncontrolled environment where the possibilities of good, bad and goofy (non partisan) can occur on a moment's notice. Forget the plans. That is the attraction and the burden of the choice. Just as I wrote about New Orleans; I may reconsider when someone hits me on the head, again.




I'm counting; this is my 100th entry.

Return of the Big Bad Bri

Eight score and two minutes ago, I boldly signed my correspondence as being from the Brave, Brilliant, Brain. But years of puberty (almost done), self doubt(but a flicker), second wind (not that type of wind) blanketed with humility, and busy years raising young 'ens left no time to reclaim my title. Now just like Paquaio I'm ready to roar again. The years 50-60 will be full of daily brave, brilliant, brainy actions and decisions, all resulting from decades of experience. Taken that this declaration is from someone who is afraid of water, took 3 years of accounting with the best grade of C+ and will always opt for the button that gives an electric shock to get the cookie, this is not saying much. Just the same, I am always willing to boldly not say much, and to reach for the cookie. Sincerely, Brave Brillliant Brain Brian

News update**: The deal is off! Almost closed the deal for the trade of Mom's Day for Dad's Day with an additional day to be named later but this has fallen through. Bad Daddy needs to get up and take care of Maria, asap. (french toast with a blueberry filling, hash browns, oranges, caffeine)
No more on this later. Now back to our regular programming.




9/7/11 footnote about 5/1/11: US Forces finally cornered Bin Laden and ended his life. Bin Laden was the main force behind the 9/11 terrorist attack, which will be 10 years this September. On May 1, my response when I came home was a double take, utter surprise and needing immediate confirmation. It may not be right to take anyone's life but I am not conflicted in the end to Bin Laden.