What is Just?

Today, I am reminded of this post from Kelly Brewer's blog. I wish I knew how to so craftily use profanity to convey what I'm thinking... http://pinkhollyhock.blogspot.com/search?q=peacenik

Similar to the encounter Kelly's son had, last Friday night, my little brother was beaten nearly to death by some unknown person or persons. Tonight, he is in the hospital, recovering from extensive surgery to stop internal bleeding and manage damage to his pancreas. Later this week, he will be having another round of surgery to put everything back in place.

This person is out there somewhere. Still walking upright, without a dozen tubes and wires sticking out of his body. Without a pain management pump.

I don't even know what I feel would be just in this situation. But watching my brother laboring to breathe, and shirking in pain at the slightest movement is not it.

I do not understand what could have possibly have necessitated beating an unarmed and decent fellow so horribly. Violence of this magnitude is NOT OKAY.

It is NOT OKAY.

From the Alaskan Wilderness...

Just a few interesting thoughts about McCain's pick for VEEP.

http://www.politico.com/news/stories/0808/12997.html

I was able to catch Obama's speech at the Evergreen Lodge, along with about 50 other Obamacans, and one very drunken dissenter. I have been more encouraged about the possibilities for a better America than I have been-- maybe ever. His speech was inspiring, and full of particulars. He has nuts and bolts, folks! Check them out here.... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kv8eiDvrHJ4

They're Not There for Just a Paycheck

I grimmaced this morning when I read the annual "Labor Day" stories about how much local government employees earn. Particularly offensive is the way those quoted in the stories are labeled by their name and salary, such as, "...Shasta County Support Services Director Michelle Schafer, paid $102,970 a year."

It seems to me that such labels are the antithesis of what brings someone to public service. Attorneys, doctors, and administrators can all make more money outside of government agencies.

It occurs to me that for most County employees, the monetary value placed on their jobs is the least of their achievements. Why is it that Michele Schafer was not quoted in the paper as, "Michele Schafer, Support Services Director who manages over two dozen employees, provides recruitment and hiring services for a workforce of 2,000; manages the interface between hiring and payroll services; provides oversight of compensation and classification activities; manages risk management activities through self-administered, self-insured risk management programs; provides oversight for County purchasing activities; manages a fleet program of several hundred vehicles; manages labor activities with nine separate bargaining units; and a host of other activities for which she will never seek or receive credit." Why is that?

Local government employees are by and large professionals who are dedicated to public service. The fact that they are willing to take on large responsibilities for understaffed, underfunded programs and still manage to provide services to the community is laudable, and deserves more than just an article in the local paper sniping about salaries.

I'm Just a Strawberry Girl

At least this week, I am. Once I finish tying up all the loose ends at the office, I will race back to Redding, load up the car, pick up the boys, and we will be on the road, headed to five days of bluegrass and roots bliss in the Yosemite mountains. Camping under a pine canopy, listening to great music, and seeing friends will all be on the agenda. Answering my cell phone, text messages, email, etc., will not.

My only exception to this technology ban will be to sneak over to Evergreen Lodge on Thursday to go listen to Barack Obama's acceptance speech. Don't forget to tune in yourselves. It's history in the making. Thursday is yet another standing stone in the journey toward positive and profound change in our democracy. Really. I know it sounds hyperbolic, but Barack Obama is a leader like none other this country has known.

My OBAMA shirt arrived on Monday. I may wear it all weekend, just because I will be in a place where that kind of moderate behavior is acceptable.

I'll have pictures when I return. Hope you all have a happy and safe weekend!

Last Monday was the last first day of school in the K-12 realm for Katie Girl. At the risk of sounding mushy and sappy, it really and truly does not seem like twelve years have passed since my first-born went trotting off to kindergarten. I remember the day so vividly. She was wearing a denim jumper, and I can remember the way her little bobbed hair-do shone in the early morning sun. I didn’t let her take the bus. I drove her all the way to school.

Katie has always been an independent sort. I knew it even back then. It didn’t surprise me at all when she quickly trotted off to her class without even looking back.

A lot has changed in the past twelve years. My Katie now spells her name Katy. Just because she likes it that way. She’s been to Disneyland, Washington, DC, France and Italy, all without me. She has a job, a career plan and goals. She has a nice boyfriend, and her very own laptop computer that she bought with only money she earned this summer. She is almost 17 and she is almost driving.

And today, I drove her all the way to school. She was wearing denim jeans, a black hooded top, earrings and make-up. It didn’t surprise me when she waved good-bye and then quickly trotted off to class without even looking back.

Apparently, looking back is the Mom’s job.

It's more than just a stop light...

Today is the big unveiling at Buenaventura Boulevard and Canyon Road. The road signs have been up for days, alerting drivers of the coming attraction. I have known for months that this was coming, and mostly, I’ve been filled with chagrin and regret. Is it too much to ask for one stretch of road in town without a stoplight?

I’m a country girl, going way back. Not the Stetson hat and boots kind, but the rural, not many people, not much traffic, lots of good neighbors and great nature kind. I learned to drive on a wide dirt road when I was ten years old. At fourteen, my parents let me drive the back roads all over the place. Everyone’s parents did.

When I finally hit the road as a licensed driver, I could drive almost 40 miles without hitting so much as a stop sign. Traffic “problems” usually involved wildlife, snow, the occasional lost tourist, or the town fire truck that was so old its top emergency speed was about 45 miles per hour.

So, when I heard that the two or so miles on Buenaventura between Placer Road and Railroad Avenue were going to be fettered by yet another traffic light, I cringed. The older I get, the more I think I’m really done with town life.

My girlfriend Kris, ever the optimist, pointed out that one more stoplight was just one more opportunity to multi-task in a distracted driver kind of way. “You can put on another coat of eyeliner on before you hit the highway!”

As if I would ever do something like that.

And then, I read Kelly Brewer’s blog a while back about how excited she is to see the lights go up. One woman’s speedway is another woman’s frogger experience, I suppose. I rarely traverse Canyon Road, so her daily endeavor to deftly defy collision or injury at Canyon and Buenaventura was off my beaten path, as it were.

It occurred to me that it's this kind of broadening of perspective that makes blogs and blogging so appealing to me. It’s an opportunity to learn things I may not have known, or to smell a different scent in the same old grind.

So, be on the lookout for the new stoplight if you’re at Canyon Buenaventura. If you’re lucky, you might even get to see me waiting *patiently* for the light to change, or Kelly smiling as she makes a safe turn onto the boulevard.

It's more than a new day... It's a whole new era.

I was just checking news off my Yahoo home page. As I was reading through a story about the line up of speakers for the Democratic National Convention in Denver week after next, it occurred to me that I haven’t really heard much about the Republican convention, scheduled for the following week.

To see what I could find, I searched the term “Republican National Convention”. Ironically, the results were by and large all articles about the Democratic National Convention with minor quotes as to what some minor Republican or another thought of the DNC activities.

Thinking that perhaps there was some left-leaning bias on the part of the Yahoo search engine, I switched engines. Twice. I tried Mozilla/Firefox, and all I got was quick little news blurbs about the official IT provider for the Republican National Convention, the withdrawal of Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae as sponsors of the Republican event. On Google, the most “newsworthy” article on the topic was a blurb declaring that Vice President Dick Cheney will be speaking one night at the Republican convention.

Regardless of where one’s politics lie, it’s hard not to admit that the Democrats are demonstrating a level of leadership that this country hasn’t seen in recent history. I agree with very little of what House Speaker Nancy Pelosi has to say in the way of politics and social policy, but I am very impressed by the level of leadership she has exhibited in uniting her party in Congress. Speaker Pelosi is speaking on the first night of the Convention, along with Michelle Obama.

Since I can’t find any information online about the RNC line-up, I’ve been racking my brain to think of who the Republicans have in their arsenal who is going to be able to inspire and energize their choir, let alone a politically disenfranchised nation, the way Barack Obama and his supporters are inevitably going to. I can’t think of much of anyone, really.

Help Kids Carry the Load...

Below is a message I received from Maegan Lotkeff at Shasta Women’s Refuge…

Hi Everyone! Sorry to bother all of you but we are in desperate need of new or verygently used kids backpacks! For the first time since I have been with the Women's Refuge we have completely depleted our store
of backpacks. Backpacksare a huge thing for the kids coming into our emergency shelter. Often backpacks are left behind when a family leaves a dangerous place or a childnever had one to begin with. They provide each child something that is completely their own and helps them keep together their personal belongings and school supplies during this tough time of transition. In addition, we also give
out backpacks with blankets, toys and snacks to children who are being forced to travel out of the area for their families safety. If you can help us out it would be great! Just deliver backpacks to our main office between 8:30 and 4:30 Monday - Friday or call us and we will come pick themup. (530) 244-0117.

Additionally, I am taking Katie and Jesse school shopping on Friday, and plan to pick up extra backpacks and school supplies to drop off at Women’s Refuge. If you are interested in helping with this little project, let me know. I would be happy to buy extra supplies and backpacks if you’re interested in pitching in. Feel free to call me at 921-0379.

No really, thank YOU, Kenny...

So, now the cute little diddy I wrote about Kenny Loggins' show has managed to find itself on the Kenny Loggins site... check it out. http://www.kennyloggins.com/

Monikers, Monikers

Goofball
Smartypants
LoverMother
Scmexy
Mistress of the Frigo

Sometimes name calling is fun, and even flattering.

For those of you responsible for the above labels today... Just know that you made my day!

Only in Never, Never Land

So, there’s this woman—let’s call her “Wendy”—who works for a local public agency. Her days are filled with the usual public servant kind of activities—finding the delicate balance between meeting public needs and objectively managing limited government resources.

Her days are also filled with the goings on of co-workers around her. One cohort in particular comes to work every day dressed in an amazing array of office inappropriate attire—clunking eight-inch heels, backless halter tops, excessive sparkling make up, juvenile hairstyles which are entirely incongruous to her nearly five-decade tenure on planet earth.

Despite the multiple ‘discussions’ management has had with this employee, still she comes to the office as if she were readying herself for a Broadway debut. Many have even taken to referring to her as Tinkerbell. Today, a gentleman came to the office to conduct business with the agency, and he politely asked the woman, “What are you dressed up for?”

The answer, “Ohhhh… nothing much.”

Once, Wendy even had the misfortune of seeing the woman’s bare breast, so revealing was her attire. And we’re not talking just a little too much cleavage. We’re talking the whole enchilada… When poor Wendy reported the incident to a superior, Wendy wound up getting lectured for the incident. Her rebuttal, “I am unclear on why I’m being admonished for reporting what is clearly uncomfortable to male and female office workers alike,” was met with consternation.

It makes one wonder….

I don't know how this happened...

But I couldn’t be more pleased that it did. It honestly doesn’t seem that long ago that a doctor at Mercy Hospital cut me open and introduced me to my son Jesse, slightly less than eight pounds of screaming, wriggling flesh. I’ve fed him, bathed him, changed him, played with him, and done everything else a mother must do to raise a young boy.

Now, Jesse is 15 years old, rambunctious, always hungry, and always looking for something to do to entertain himself. This past weekend, he and I traveled with a mother/daughter duo of friends to Monterey for a music festival at Laguna Seca raceway.

It was the first time in a good long while that Jesse and I have found ourselves outside of the constant grind of things to do, behaviors to change, places to be, and distractions to be endured, which constitute our lovely, chaotic life. Against the backdrop of the Monterey Peninsula, the boy and I had time to really connect; unfettered and footloose.

At one point, both of us, burned out by too much sun, too much grit, too much screeching guitar, and too much proselytizing, snuck off to the beach. While combing the streets of Carmel for a parking space, my son opened himself up, like this wonderful, beautiful, unexpected gift.

I learned some interesting things about his views on theology. I experienced his truly deep humor. The kid is funny. I mean really, really funny.

At the beach, I watched with longing as he trounced out into the ocean waves. I longed to be with him, but I was held back by my job as sentry over the family jewels-- camera, money, car keys, etc. I watched in awe as I realized that he has become an impressive swimmer, far from the little boy once frightened by even the sea foam that languishes on the beach.

I took a picture of him when he first got into the water. He is no longer the little Campbell’s Soup baby I once held in my arms, his cherubic cheek next to mine. At almost six feet tall, everything about him has grown outside of my already high expectations of him. His attire, the crocheted cap the colors of the Jamaican flag, the orange aviator glasses, and the “Pornography is for Posers” T-Shirt, all speak to someone who is determined to find their own road, and enjoy it every step of the way.

Later in the evening, we had this strange role reversal. After fifteen years of always being the beacon, the protector, the planner, and the leader, Jesse instead led me through the tangled mass of 5,000 bodies jumping and moshing to the sounds of The News Boys. We danced and screamed until the end of the show. It was more fun than I can remember having in a very long time.

I watched curiously as he patiently and succinctly explained to people what his Pornography is for Posers T-shirt means. I watched as he chatted with strangers about insignificant things. He used to be so shy. Now, there is not one shy bone in his body.

It is truly awesome to find such an amazing creature in my midst.

My Amazing Dad...

... is going back to school. At 59 years old. And legally blind. I am so proud of him.

Encouraged by my nephew's pre-school class, my dad has found his true calling-- pre-school teacher's aide.

Had anyone told me 15 years ago that my dad would be "Papa Allen" to 20 three to five year-olds, I would have looked at them like they were straight up nuts. But the most incredible thing has happened in the past 15 years.

My dad and I were never too close when I was growing up. Honestly, things were downright frigid between us at times. When he married my mom, my dad also inherited a very smart-alecky six year-old. I was stubborn and wary. He was sort of overwhelmed and unsure how to fix the situation.

When my daughter was born, my dad was transformed. Once a stern disciplinarian, my dad absolutely melted when he first held the tiny creature he christened his "Little Katy Doodle." A year later, when my son was born, it seemed that not a hard spot to his countenance remained. He couldn't get enough of his grandbabies. He and I also realized that we couldn't afford to remain at arm's length from one another.

Five-and-a-half years ago, when my nephew Elijah was born, my dad's evolution was complete. He was fully and officially "Papa Pushover." While my sister worked, Elijah and Papa spent most all their days together. I used to get a chuckle when I would try to make plans with my dad, only to be told something like, "I can't have you come over and visit at 2:00 on Saturday. Elijah will be napping."

When I suggested that we could be quiet enough that we wouldn't wake the baby, my dad said, "Well, the problem is that the baby naps on my chest..."

Last year, when Elijah started pre-school, my dad's job was to get Elijah to school. Because my dad is both color blind and legally blind due to macular degeneration, he no longer drives. The only option was to walk Elijah the half-mile or so to his pre-school class.

Soon enough, the teacher was asking my dad if he would be interested in just staying for the three-hour class once in a while. The occasional visit turned into multiple times a week. The children grew to love him. The class made him Christmas gifts, and presented Papa Allen with a trophy at the pre-school graduation this past June.

My dad has had a life that's been pretty tough at times-- some of it by circumstance, some of it by choice. Because of financial and other family issues, he never finished high school. He was well into his thirties before he got his GED and a degree in the construction trades. His diminishing eye sight soon made plying that trade difficult, and even dangerous.

Outside of football and 70's rock and roll, I've never seen my dad passionate about much. That is, until I called him today to ask him if he would be coming with us to a music festival over the Labor Day weekend.

He asked me to remind him when the dates were, and when I did, he said, "Oh, I can't do that. I'll miss school."

"School?"

"Yeah, school. I am going to school to work on some early childhood classes so that I can be a teacher's aide."

I am so excited for him. I have been living in a season for the past two years where I keep watching with great enthusiasm, and some envy, as people I know are resurrecting themselves, or jumping off corporate carousels, or otherwise finding ways to find vibrance in their lives.

Watching my dad pursue with earnest something he's so passionate about makes me want to take the same kind of flying leap. If he can do it in the September of his life, and nearly blind, it seems that I should be able to do it too...

Flip Over Here and Check This Out...

My over-personalized review of last night's Kenny Loggins concert at ttp://www.donigreenberg.com/. Be sure to stay a while and peruse the many wonderful things on the site. It's local, it's thoughtful, it's provocative, and it's filled with great writers of heroic proportions.