A Bit of History

My grandmother (mom's side) died a few years back and while we were cleaning out her apartment (actually, we were looking for anything we wanted to have), I took several diaries and papers showing family history. They have been sitting in a bag on a shelf, unopened since I returned from her funeral. I've been thinking about them for a few months now and finally took a look. One of the diaries begins during World War II, when she was in her early 20s, dating my Grandfather who was about to be sent off to war. She hmms and haws about whether or not she really likes him, then a few months pass and suddenly they're married and pregnant and he's on a ship overseas and she's madly in love. I'm up to her eighth month of pregnancy (I'm a little concerned because she's happy about losing ten pounds, but I guess my mom was born and lived so I can let it go), he's landed in England, and has just told her that he learned that her brother made it there safely as well. They write to each other every day, sometimes twice, but the letters take a long time to reach each other. Most of the pages are filled with her daily doings -- cleaning, eating, teaching her mother shorthand, fighting with her sister. But the context is so interesting.

Anti-Music

Buskers often entertain us with blues, classical, mexican, bluegrass, rock, you name it, as we go to and from the trains through the BART station. The other day, a bedraggled man with matted hair and a long beard pulled out his violin. I actually doubt that it was his violin, only because it seemed like he had never played one before. He energetically (madly) drew the bow back and forth across the strings, making angry screeching noises. I did, at first, give him the benefit of the doubt, thinking perhaps it was some avant-guard performance. But after a few minutes of listening while I purchased my bart ticket, I came to the firm conclusion that he did not know how to play the violin, and was in fact purposely playing anti-music. I wish I had checked to see if he had the case out in hopes of dollars, because now I wonder if he were playing only to annoy, or whether he genuinely hoped some commuters would appreciate his (insane?) effort.

Lily, age 5

"How was school today, Lily?"

"No one played with me today."

"Really? Well who did you play with?"

"Just Sadie and Rosa, they were the only ones who played with me."

"And what did you play?"

"Pirates."

"Oooh. And were you a pirate?"

"No, I was a unicorn."

"I see. So was Sadie a pirate?"

"No, she was a unicorn."

"And what was Rosa?"

"A unicorn."

"Oh. Were there any pirates in your game?"

"No."

"Well, that sounds like a fun game."

"It was."

I still think it was a party.

On a beautfiful Sunday morning, Shaun and I and the girls made our way on foot from our house to the Thai Temple for a Berkeley brunch. On the way we passed the neighborhood halfway house and as we approached, it sounded like a gathering was taking place, with many gay voices chattering away. How nice, I thought, that they would do something festive on a sunny Sunday. But when I looked in the yard, there were only four or five people. Each was talking to him or herself.

If I Had My Very Own Parking Place...

Quickest Way To Heaven

In Erie, PA one can get fried cheesecake. So we did. It's your basic cheesecake wedge that has been rolled in egg whites and bread crumbs and then dropped into the deep fat fryer. The result is a tasty, warm and crunchy outside and your traditional cool cheesecake inside. Mmmmmm.

Christmas List

Molly suggested we get Lily a "time-out" chair for Christmas this year. I'm considering it.

I'm back

Or least I'm not completely gone anymore. Finished my last final yesterday. Maybe now I'll notice the world around me and have something to say again. I did notice yesterday evening after the last final (shouldn't every final be the last?), over beers with my fellow tired law students that we could barely speak to each other. There was lots of sighing, a few groans over remembered exams, then general commiserating over how it was time to rejoin the world -- do laundry, shave beards (not me). Alice commented that she might try to explore the city a bit this vacation -- she's been here two years and hasn't seen anything other then what occurs along the route to and from school. Caroline announced that she plans to go grocery shopping, noting she was reduced to eating old peanutbutter sandwich crusts for dinner last night. I also noticed that suffering is much more fun in a group environment.

I have nothing to say.

Gay Rights

My friend Jessica has a young, enthusiastic son whom she took grocery shopping the other day. They were in a bit of a hurry, made it to the grocercy store, where outside, as they gathered their shopping cart, they heard an activist provocatively question shoppers as they ingressed and egressed, "who has time for gay rights?" Theo turns to his mom, and says (enthusiastically), "we don't have time for gay rights, do we mom?"

Gardens in the Hood

I am a fan of low-maintenance gardening. In fact, I take it a step further to no-maintenance gardening. To my visitors who view my backyard, I simply explain, "I'm going for the wild jungle look."


I'm not alone in my endeavors (or lack thereof). I have come to appreciate certain neighborhood gardens which are vibrant, though infinitely practical. Take for instance this small front garden on King street:




It has become more lush (lushier?) over time, the flowers never die, and they never have to be watered. If you can't tell from the photograph, all the flowers are plastic. Across the street, is another garden which has gone one step further by adding plastic birds and paper butterflies (a more natural effect, I think).


There is, however, one garden, along the front of a house of iniquity (alleged), that makes me feel both hope -- someone had good intentions -- and pain. This garden has been there for about a year now. I think images speak louder than words:

BART Haiku, October 10, 2007

Black clouds sit above
rainbow over West Berkeley's
decrepit houses.

BART Haiku, October 10, 2007

Sprawled across two seats
food bag, newspapers, orange juice
tsk, tsk. Crowded train.

Suggestion for Halloween

The wonderful thing about the Internet is that one comes across things that one would not normally see in Berkeley. Such as the Bibleman costume:

"Nothing says "You Lose" like arriving for battle in flowing cape and warrior mask."

I guess it remains to be seen exactly who the loser is.

Non Traditional (?) Action Figures

In case you haven't yet visited the catholic action figure website, here is a bit of text describing the Jesus action figure:

"Jesus was the most important person in history. Ever. He was born in a manger, raised as a carpenter, and crucified on a cross. He healed the sick. He raised the dead. He fed five thousand men with two fish and five loaves of bread."

Impressive.

Mary's action figure description, however, leaves me with a few questions:

"Mary was just an ordinary girl, who got a visit from the angel Gabriel, and her life-and legacy-changed forever as she accepted this role of being the mother of Jesus."

I do recommend visiting the site for additional illuminating information about characters from the old and new testament.

BART haiku - September 25, 2007

Security Guard

His wheelchair rigged: police lights

Uniformed. Roll on.

BART Haiku, September 25, 2007

Thinning hair, dyed black

Tight, light blue velvet sweat suit

Sir, not attractive.

BART Haiku - a background

A friend of mine told me during a dine@ soiree, about a phone texting group he was a part of and one of the group activities is BART haiku. The poem must be written on BART or shortly thereafter when inspired by BART.

Last night, as Shaun expressed his distaste for public transporation, I told him how much I enjoy riding BART every day amid, amongst all the humanity (opposites do attract) (not that I am inhuman -- Shaun and I are opposites) (in case I confused you).

When I first started school, I was not a part of BART, and was amazed by the mass of people getting on BART during early morning rush hour; how they could, despite being crammed on top of each other, each plug in to their separate technologies to isolate themselves from the throng; how they get off the train en masse like ants heading about their busy busy business.

Now I am one of them (ant people), but I still enjoy the quintessential BART moments that happen nearly every day. And BART haiku seems to me to be a perfect format for sharing those moments of being (Virginia Woolf may nod, may not).

Thus, I share.

BART Haiku - September 21, 2007

Not standing in line

Pirouettes on the platform -

Should he get a seat?

Modern Times

This morning, Molly was looking through a folder of her drawings and other creations from kindergarten (she's a big fourth-grader now), when she came across a letter she had written to Santa.

"Mom! What is this doing here! How come it wasn't mailed??"

I paused before answering, wondering whether she was pulling my leg or being sincere, because by her age, I certainly had figured out the truth about Santa.

In fact, one year, long before I was nine, my sisters and I had forcibly disrobed "Santa" one Christmas to prove that we knew he was really Jimmy Curry, friend of our parents. His red plastic suit and cotton ball beard were completely unconvincing and easily torn from his body.

Molly asked me once -- probably around the time she wrote the letter at issue -- if I would tell her the truth about Santa. I said I would and waited for the question, "is he real?" but she never asked it. So we left it at that. I guess you could say we have a "don't ask, don't tell" Santa policy in our house. We have acknowleged that some people don't believe in Santa -- or the tooth fairy, or the easter bunny -- but that everyone has a choice in that matter. Molly continues to choose to believe.

Thus, Molly was truly miffed that her letter hadn't been sent. So I did some quick thinking.

"I think I must have faxed it to him. That way I could keep the original copy because it was so cute!"

She seemed satisfied with this answer -- at least she didn't ask any further questions.