December 1009

The Debate Continues: Christmas Music: Jews Gift for Christmas

OY VEY! Enough already. I just want to listen to the music. I don't want to debate the non-issue of Jews who write or have written or perform or have performed Christmas music.

Think about all those Jews who have cashed in and capitalized on Christmas music. Really!

Besides, there are songs of the season and Christmas music.
Rudolf and Frosty are fun and festive.
Blue and white "Christmas"  songs merely describe moods or weather.
Kids love thinking that Santa Claus is coming to town and old folks laugh when they hear that "I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus" underneath the mistletoe, but it's part of the season.

It's this simple: Jesus is the Reason for the season.
Just try reading either  Matthew 1:18-25  or Luke 2:1-20 if you want to know the story.
Or even Isaiah 7:14 foretells the birth of the Lord.

For more than 200 years songs have told of Mary, a child, three kings, a holy night and angels with a message of peace and joy. Why: salvation. And on Christmas, with the birth of Jesus,  the word of the father now in flesh appeared.

Sorry Neil Sedaka, the music IS religious and it has a message for everyone.
Yes, God had a plan. Jesus the Jew came for you and you and you...
Whether you are a cultural, religious, ethnic _______ or not.
So you'd better watch out, while those visions of sugar plums are dancing; joy to the world, the Lord is come.

The Thunderbolt Kid and Memories of Riverview Amusement Park and more

October 2009

The Thunderbolt Kid and Memories of Riverview Amusement Park

There is nothing better to fill a silent room with than one’s own laughter.  

I didn’t grow up with the Dick Van Dyke family life, but Bill Bryson's memoir, Thunderbolt Kid,  helped me dust off some memories that can make any dysfunctional childhood recall several good times we all shared. 

I remember wishing I had a brother or sister who was an honest-to-goodness beatnik, not just some person I would hear adults whispering about.  

I recall occasionally going out for a fancy dinner and having to get all dressed up and being told that “if I was good I could order a Shirley Temple.” And of course, I wanted to be Shirley Temple on rainy days. 

I had forgotten about removing cork from bottle caps and splitting popsicles in two to share with my best girlfriend. 

I loved scabs and skinned knees and I really loved stubbing my big toes because that meant I was barefoot and free. And so many summer days were filled with doing “nothin” except laying on our backs and watching clouds move along the sky. 

Forest preserves, bowling alleys, roller rinks, ice skating and neighborhood pools meant you didn’t have to plan any activity with anyone…those were places to meet up. 

And then there was Riverview: Riverview Park was located on Chicago's northwest side and one of the city's most popular amusement destinations. Spread across more than 140 acres of land bounded by Belmont Avenue on the south, Western Avenue on the east, and the north branch of the Chicago River on the west, the park offered inexpensive amusements to work-weary Chicagoans. 

Every summer, thousands flocked to the park to enjoy its combination of thrilling rides, fascinating exhibits, cheap eats, interesting people, and cool evening air.” I remember the thrill of going every year for my birthday until it was closed down in 1967. 

Built-in 1926 at a cost of $80,000, the carefully designed coaster the BOBs, jostled,  its riders from beginning to end. Excessively sharp curves, shortened dips, low-riding cars, and clanking gears not only rattled riders' bones, but intensified the illusion of the ride's mechanical dangers and its seemingly life-threatening speeds. Other Riverview coasters included the Comet, the Blue Streak, the Pippen, the Jack Rabbit, and the Flying Turns, which was moved to Riverview in 1935 after Chicago's Century of Progress Exposition, its former home, came to an end. Riverview was complete with the  “jazzy Riverview Ballroom and the Riverview Roller Rink, where youthful roller-skating enthusiasts and members of the Riverview Roller Skating Club.”

Thursday, October 08, 2009

Living Sports Legends

The acuity of my heightened sense of Graydar is what led me to the small piece located on page two of a recent Sunday's sports page about major leaguer Tony Malinosky.  Most of my readers will gasp, "Tony who?"  Yes, I realize that the majority of you are of the female persuasion and may choose not to continue reading the rest of this blog, but come on ladies, I had to throw a bone to the guys and since I am a sports fan cut me some slack on this one.

Imagine this, Tony is in his home in Oxnard, California and tunes into the (National League Series Division leaders) LA Dodger games and at 99 years of age that is nothing to balk at.  He just may be the oldest living ballplayer with the shortest career. He played third base and shortstop for the Brooklyn Dodgers in April of 1937 and ended his career that same year in July.  He was asked what seems to be the only question some young reporters can think to ask an older person... what is your secret to a long life? (Don't you just hate that question?) Anyway, Tony apparently replies, "Just keep breathing!" Thanks, Tony, it doesn't get any better than that.

So reading about Malinosky, I couldn't help thinking about other septuagenarian, octogenarian and nonagenarian athletes. If we were putting together a team of legends, at the top of the list would be 98 year old John Wooden and 95 year old Jack LaLanne.  Our top ten 80-year-olds would include Arnold Palmer at 80; Vin Scully and Gordie Howe at 81; Whitey Ford, Joe Paterno and Tommy Lasorda at 82; Joe Gargiolla at 83; Yogi Bera at 84; and Stan Musiel and Jake Lamatta at 88. This list of silver stars born in the 1930's includes Ernie Banks, Hank Aaron, Carl Yaztremski, Bill Russell, Whitey Herzog, John Madden, Pat Summerall, Sandi Kolfax and Willie Mays.

See ladies, I know you actually know many of these names, and no there isn't a test at the end of the article but do you know what these old-timers are up to today?

Winningest coach turned author, the legendary Wooden inspires kids and adults with his speeches and presence in the community. The godfather of physical fitness, LaLanne, went on to develop workout machines, gyms and workout regimes for all ages. And he is still producing CDs and making the exercise circuit today.  The voice of the Los Angeles Dodgers, Vin Scully is a sportscasters' gentleman and is still calling games to this day! Vin says he will retire in 2010 but ask him after the Dodgers win the series. Mr. Hockey, and a giant to all,  Gordie Howe is still around and involved as part-owner of the Vancouver Giants.  At 82 you will see old Joe Paterno Saturdays as the very active head coach for the Penn State Nittany Lions. And LA's own Tommy Lasorda is still working as  the Special Advisor to the Dodgers Chairman recruiting and spreading baseball goodwill thoughout the year and making money on product endorsements. My all-time favorite on this list of greats is Mr. Cub #14,  Ernie Banks. He is very active in charity work, and a couple of years ago founded the Live Above & Beyond Foundation and as a winemaker released 512 Chardonnay, named for his 512 career home runs. 

Also on this list of amazing athletes are Willie Mays, Hank Aaron and Stan Muisel. Isn't it great to think that three baseball hall of famers are still setting records making a difference in their communities off the field just like in the old days in the ballpark? 

And now we have that man at the top, newly inducted into the centenarian hall of fame this week: Tony Malinosky. Now let's play ball.

September 24, 2009

Think Again and Setting Myself on Fire.

 I don't have an expansive ocean view and my home doesn't rest high atop a hill overlooking the rolling vineyards. But from where I sit I can always see the sun and feel the warm presence of my creator. And yet, sometimes I get stuck. The fingers don't move along the keyboard. The thoughts aren't flowing from my brain to that pen.

So now what? I just do. I get up and change my perspective.

In kindergarten, the teachers have a little trick they use to bring focus back to their students and (as Raffi would say) she let's them shake their sillies out. Shaking it up helps, but sometimes I need more.

I stop, drop and roll. I know that is what you are supposed to do when you are on fire, right? And that is exactly what I find that I need when I am stuck. 

Oh, and there is one more place to which I like to return when I find myself paralyzed. I try to remember what the source of my inspiration is.  When I can return to that place,  I can go back to my space like I am on fire and begin anew.

Jump Ahead 10 Years & Then Fall Flat on my Empty Wallet!

For Vinita Hampton Wright 

In my late 20's I was a property manager. It was a man's world and I loved working in it. One of the skills that landed me in that career was that I was observant. I caught everything with a discerning eye and I had an ear that was tuned in to things... I could catch the remnants of termites or the sounds of scurrying cockroaches, seriously.

That talent continues to serve me. This morning I caught a glimpse of a 30-inch spider web glistening with dew in the early morning sun. Take note of things and make note of your discoveries each day.

Yesterday I picked up SIMPLE ACTS OF MOVING FORWARD, and began with my first step in list-making and step taking. It was a beautiful thing. I committed to one small chapter a day. To be ever-present in each step of the day. Today,  when I tried to "jump ahead ten years",  I fell flat on my empty wallet because reflecting on what I want to do when I am 69 years old seems as silly a question today as asking a five-year-old "what do you what to be what you grow up?"  My entire life I have wrestled with what I what to do.

Today: All I know is what I want to be:
I want to BE healthy. I want to continue to BE a good mother, wife and family member and friend. I want to be able to travel with purpose. I want to continue to be happily married. I want to continue to be able to write and be heard. I want to be able to spend time with young people and help older adults. And I want to be able to have meaningful things to do in my life to make a difference every day.

But in 10 years what on earth do I want to DO?  Do it on earth?

Make a List and Be Certain to Check it a Couple of Times.

I am one of those people who just can't get through life without list-making. My life is really one list at a time. I carry post-it notes. I write with a post-it pen. And a notepad is never far from my reach. Days are segmented into home-work, life-work and everything else that must be done. I started to assign home-work tasks long ago. It helps so as not to get overwhelmed with the details of maintaining a happy home. For example, if Tuesday is kitchen day and if the only area of the home that receives my attention is that room, I am left with many hours of enrichment and a fulfilled life and everything else works. But beyond that, something I discovered in the many quiet hours of my days is that what will be remembered as evening rests on my lap, is not that I cleaned the kitchen but that along the way, throughout the day there was something special to be held in thanksgiving from each of my lists: an uncovered recipe that I have been meaning to try receives cheers from my co-vivant; an e-mail from an artist sharing his dog's "tale"; a phone call from a friend just checking in on me; time to acknowledge and welcome fall with photos of my deciduous trees yet to have shed their green coats. Today I looked at my lists with 20 - 20 vision.

Monday, September 21, 2009

Hey There Barbie Girl

In July of 1959 the furthest thing from my mind was the name of the company that had launched a grown-up-looking doll in a zebra-striped one-piece...All I knew is that my world would come to an end if I didn't get a Barbie for my ninth birthday. Then, in December 1960, I was struck with desire and knew I could not go on living if I didn't find Chatty Cathy under my slim, artificial, Florida Christmas tree. I should be concerned about the name of the creator of these life-changing toys? Hardly!

Barbie had everything a pre-teen wanted: endless outfits and breasts. Chatty Cathy was all a girl could ask for: someone who didn't tell you to wash your hands or eat all your vegetables and she was someone who asked you to take her with you or tell her a story and tell you she loved you when you pulled that string on an 0-ring. For a girl whose parents divorced at the age of seven and was being transferred from one school after another, Barbie and Cathy were the best companions a young girl could have.

When I was 11 years old, the next best thing to getting a puppy occurred. Barbie got a friend and I got Ken. And even though he had underwear painted to cover his shapely buttocks and his near-flat crotch area, my best friend (Linda) and I couldn't wait to get Ken naked to see what sex was all about.

It's really unfortunate that it took me fifty years to discover Mattel and Ruth while rediscovering Barbie! But before I comment on Robin Gerber's new book, Barbie and Ruth (The Story of the World's Most Famous Doll and the Woman Who Created Her), almost as interesting is what piqued my newfound fascination for Barbie. My husband and I spent a recent Saturday night at the shul. We thought it was going to be a simple Slichot kind of evening. But it turned into Havdalah, an Oneg and a film and discussion of The Tribe, a 2006 Indie film and Sundance Award winner. Tribes are as ancient as the Old Testament and popular as Seth Godin. Everybody wants one; something to belong to and with which to identify. In this 15 minute film, The Tribe takes a look back at Barbie and her creator, Ruth Handler and then fast-forwards to what it means to be Jewish today. Using black and white film clips, edgy and hip music, young people and Barbie, The Tribe provides an opportunity for engagement and a forum for discussion on today's American Jewish identity! That being said, it was in the midst of this unusual setting that I learned that my Barbie, my blonde, perky Barbie was created by a Jewish woman. So, of course, that triggered my need to know more.

Love, marriage, sex scandals, AIDS, breasts of large proportions,bitchy women at the top of the corporate ladder, law suits, cancer... It's all here in Barbie and Ruth.

Born in 1916 in Colorado to Polish Jewish immigrants, Ruth Mosko was the youngest of 10 siblings. Nicely paired, Barbie and Ruth take you on a life journey of a wife, business partner and working mother of two (Barbara and Ken); a woman named Ruth. (You could make strong parallels between Ruth Handler and Biblical Ruth: loyalty, leadership, constant). What started out as a business in their garage, Ruth and Elliot and friend Harold Mattson began making picture frames. Matt and El, known as Mattel, started a business that soon changed its focus to dollhouse furniture and then toys. While this book focuses on their 60-year marriage, love and business life of Ruth and Elliot, you will find hints of the unhappiness of her children who were ignored as a business empire thrived; a son whose life was spent in a closet of guilt; a woman who got caught up and was indicted on 10 counts of mail fraud, falsifying statements to the SEC and was charged with $57,000 in fines and 500 hours per year for five years of community service; damaged by cancer; creates a bra for mastectomies and dies of colon cancer. Known for years in Mattel as a hard-assed force to be avoided and detailed oriented to a fault, Ruth loved the attention and loved being a woman in a man's world.

It's unclear about the outright plagiarism by Ruth that gave birth to Barbie. She bought German-designed dolls that were used by Bild Lilli as men's titillating toy dolls. Copied them down to the nipples that were filed off. She then handed the doll and her clothing to her designers, put the evidence in boxes, buried them in Mattel and six years after the overwhelming success of Barbie she settled with Bild Lilli and bought them out for $6k. Seems history may have been rewritten a few times on Ruth's inspiration for Barbie.

Not one to stand still for long, Ruth was also always entertaining ways to expand and purchase businesses including Turco Manufacturing and Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey Circus.

Ruth's fall from grace proved her unstoppable. Rising up from breast cancer and her humiliation in the press, she pressed on to become a model for young women in business with life her life-changing philanthropic efforts. Thanks, Barbie and Ruth for the memories.

Monday, August 17, 2009

A Timeless Tale

Four hungry, orphaned children, alone in the night running from a grandfather they never met; The Boxcar Children is an amazing book written in the early 1940's. This chapter book for young readers engages their minds in imagination, adventures and survival. 13 chapters weave the ups and downs, the fears and hopes, struggles and solutions that will bring promise and happiness to the hearts of all who enter in... Being an avid early reader and young writer, I don't know how I missed this one growing up and how this story failed from my radar as I read book after countless book to my son at a very early age...

This summer I picked up a copy (thanks to an NPR recommendation) from the library that was a 1950 edition: old, worn and loved and gently handled. The purpose, I suppose, is to pass along the tale to you so that any fresh pair of eyes can journey into the lives of these brave kids who make a home out of a boxcar.

Below is the biography of the author of this heartwarming tale. Read on.

Gertrude Chandler Warner was born in Putnam, Connecticut, on April 16, 1890, to Edgar and Jane Warner. Her family included a sister, Frances, and a brother, John. From the age of five, she dreamed of becoming an author. She wrote stories for her Grandfather Carpenter, and each Christmas she gave him one of these stories as a gift. Today, Ms. Warner is best remembered as the author of The Boxcar Children Mysteries.

As a child, Gertrude enjoyed many of the things that girls enjoy today. She loved furnishing a dollhouse with handmade furniture and she liked to read. Her favorite book was Alice in Wonderland. Often on Sundays after church, Gertrude enjoyed trips to visit her grandparents' farm. Along the way, she and Frances would stop to pick the wildflowers they both loved. Gertrude's favorite flower was the violet.

Her family was a very musical one. They were able to have a family orchestra, and Gertrude enjoyed playing the cello. Her father had brought her one from New York—a cello, a bow, a case and an instruction book. Altogether, he paid $14.00. Later, as an adult, she began playing the pipe organ and sometimes substituted for the church organist.

Due to ill health, Ms. Warner never finished high school. She left in the middle of her second year and studied with a tutor. Then, in 1918, when teachers were called to serve in World War I, the school board asked her to teach first grade. She had forty children in the morning and forty more in the afternoon. Ms. Warner wrote, "I was asked or begged to take this job because I taught Sunday School. But believe me, day school is nothing like Sunday School, and I sure learned by doing—I taught in that same room for 32 years, retiring at 60 to have more time to write." Eventually, Ms. Warner attended Yale, where she took several teacher training courses.

Once when she was sick and had to stay home from teaching, she thought up the story about the Boxcar Children. It was inspired by her childhood dreams. As a child, she had spent hours watching the trains go by near her family's home. Sometimes she could look through the window of a caboose and see a small stove, a little table, cracked cups with no saucers, and a tin coffee pot boiling away on the stove. The sight had fascinated her and made her dream about how much fun it would be to live and keep house in a boxcar or caboose. She read the story to her classes and rewrote it many times so the words were easy to understand. Some of her pupils spoke other languages at home and were just learning English. The Boxcar Children gave them a fun story that was easy to read.

Ms. Warner once wrote for her fans, "Perhaps you know that the original Boxcar Children… raised a storm of protest from librarians who thought the children were having too good a time without any parental control! That is exactly why children like it! Most of my own childhood exploits, such as living in a freight car, received very little cooperation from my parents."

Though the story of The Boxcar Children went through some changes after it was first written, the version that we are familiar with today was originally published in 1942 by Scott Foresman. Today, Albert Whitman & Company publishes this first classic story as well as the next eighteen Alden children's adventures that were written by Ms. Warner.

Gertrude Chandler Warner died in 1979 at the age of 89 after a full life as a teacher, author, and volunteer for the American Red Cross and other charitable organizations. After her death, Albert Whitman & Company continued to receive mail from children across the country asking for more adventures about Henry, Jessie, Violet and Benny Alden. In 1991, Albert Whitman added to The Boxcar Children Mysteries so that today's children can enjoy many more adventures about this independent and caring group of children.

Quite Quentin

If you search the name Dennis Pratt, no reference to a man, born in London in 1908 can be found. Most assuredly his parents would learn all too early that keeping this name for a lifetime would never change the makings of Quentin Crisp. Early on, QC knew he was a different sorta guy and assured his personal life voyeurs that from birth he was on a path of mild to maximum ridicule as his flighty hand movements and sweet little voice smacked of a queerness.

His boldness in dress and personality secured his place in the world to not fit in and would never be squelched. And oftentimes QC found himself suffocated by his burning desires to express himself. Hats, feathers, dresses, brilliant night coats and heavy makeup, QC did not shy away from the spotlight nor could he avoid it. And, when the time came for Quentin to leave home, he did so, "with a red handkerchief full of cosmetics tied to a birch rod over" his shoulders.

Films, TV, recordings, books, and art, Quentin may be most remembered by his writings, The Naked Servant, where he shares his personal stories including how he made a living as a still life model, in the nude for some 25 years until his later years where body wear and tear forced him to sit for face work. I stumbled upon Crisp recently as I was pouring over some chilling Sting music. In the middle 1980's Sting was said to have interviewed Quentin who was the inspiration for the song, Englishman in New York. If you watch the video, you will see Quentin Crisp appear several times in the course of this chilling black and white. View Here
QC lived a flamboyant life until his death in 1999 at 91 years of age.

100 Posts in the Clouds

This marks my 100th post to the cmashing blog. In its infancy, which dates back to January 2004, blogging was cutting edge. Historically speaking, while I knew I would journal, research, and record my musings in diaries that would come and go; I had little belief that this form of communication would continue for another five years. Surely I would maintain my observations in little notebooks and even blast my opinions in op-ed pieces whenever possible; but here I am reflecting on this journey in the clouds. And so, to record this milestone, it is appropriate to share the words of the gentle, humble and extraordinary man, Father Arrupe.

“Nothing is more practical than finding God, that is, than falling in a love in a quite absolute, final way.

What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination will affect everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed in the mornings, what you will do with your evenings, how you spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude.

Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything.”

Father Pedro Arrupe

Follow Father Arrupe here.

Beauty and the Brazilian Beast

 

I grew up in a household where Saturday night at the fights was the only way to spend the evening. It was 5 o'clock mass, pizza and then we'd gather around the black and white. Fast forward to Saturday, August 15th and the most important, highly anticipated fight in women's mixed martial arts; touted as the largest combative fight in the history of women was just about to grace the Showtime screen.

(Gina) Carano vs (Cristina Justino Venancio) Cyborg / USA vs Brazil / 27 vs 26 years of age; the oddsmakers said we'd be in for three tough rounds. However, after about thirty seconds I blurted out "do you know how long five minutes is if you are in a ring fighting a cyborg?" (you know... a cybernetic organism).

Round 1 - It was fascinating to hear the San Jose deafening crowd as the evening's main-event fighters were announced. This was a decidedly pro-Carano crowd. Before the opening bell the fans were on their feet chanting "Gina, Gee-Nah" to greet the action. Santos moved in quickly, the action almost immediately hit the floor as the noise level dramatically increased. Up against the cage and down again the femme fatales moved furiously. As I watched the clock ticking down, it appeared that time had stopped. More punches fired in a furry when Carano delivered a few blows, but Santos stood tough, remained firm footed and only two minutes had passed. There were a few jabs, a couple kicks, a right and then finally Santos pushed in and threw Carano to the floor. Santos was warned for gouging Carano's eyes, and took her opponent down who unbelievably squirmed free. As the clock approached the end of the first round, just under five minutes Santos delivered a series of hard rights when the referee rushed in to stop the bout just as the horn sounded.

The MMA mixed martial arts bout, a full on grappling, sprawling, kicking, boxing, kinda sport, came to a brutal end in a first round TKO 4 minutes 59 seconds.

I received four pieces of mail today and each was an appeal or solicitation letter. It's mid August, times are tough for most everyone but especially difficult are these times for nonprofit organizations.

A local charity sent me an emergency letter with a SASE marked RUSH URGENT! And the letter told of slashing programs, cutting staff and reduction in salaries.

A letter from a countywide agency was marked U R G E N T A P P E A L!
And throughout the letter the word crisis waswas highlighted.

An appeal came in  from a national organization about critical care for children with a response card URGENT APPEAL RESPONSE REQUESTED.

The final solicitation came from a global organization preparing to have to close its doors without my help. YES, You can count on my financial support.

These are all signs of the times.

What's a donor to do?

The Net Worth of NetWorking

August 07, 2009

I have been told that I know a lot of people. My husband says that he can't take me anywhere without running into someone I know. My son has noted when we run into someone, "You know that person from... where?"

I love people.
I love relationship building.
However, maintaining relationships is far more enjoyable.

Do I enjoy speaking in public? No. But I enjoy the net results of putting myself out there.

Do I live for the opportunity to work a crowd as a stranger? Not one bit. But I do so because it's like a game of connecting the dots. And dots are just very small circles.

And speaking of circles... Our lives are made up of circles: family, church, work to name a few. Generally, any one of those may be our circle of safety. But as you step from one circle to another something wonderful begins to occur. You are connecting those dots.

I have been known to be a joiner. That keeps me connected, but oftentimes it leads to burnout.

But here is something for you to consider. Try attending an interesting forum, meeting or group. Let's say you have identified an organization, charity, cause or business network that is offering something of value. Drop in once and feel like you are outside of their circle; but give the group two or three more tries and you have now become a welcomed face and have added value to your life.

Rolladexes are a "thing of the past" piece of office e-quipment. And maybe folks are "just not that into" business cards as much as a couple of years ago... But every time you connect with someone via e-mail or in person they automatically become a contact that you must update in your data circle.

Connect, collect and then e-connect. That's right. You've made that connection outside of your comfort zone, you've collected a name and e-mail, now shoot off a quick e-greeting. Invite them to Facebook or twitter. And you have networked while increasing your social network and net worth.

And when someone calls or writes to you and says "we simply must get together sometime." Surprise that person and follow up. You will be in for a pleasant surprise, worthy of throwing out a bigger net.

How May I Help You?

August 06, 2009

You're at a coffee shop or the bookstore and a well-intentioned clerk asks, "May I help you?" Think about it; the thing about being asked that question is that it opens the window ever so slightly to one of the following responses:
Yes or No.

A great way to push open a door that is slightly ajar is to get a conversation to the point of where you're asking: How can I help you?

Whether it's a first connection or a longtime friend, when engaged in a conversation and someone is focused on what you are saying, doesn't that make you feel comfortable, maybe
even to a point of wanting to help them?

I can't assume that you know what I want... a lead, a job offer or a great connection. Whatever it is, I might be reluctant to come right out and say that.


Yes, the best way to gain support is to give it unconditionally. Should you share with people what you need? Absolutely. Nobody will know how they can help you if you don't tell them. But if you make it a habit to look for opportunities to give, the likelihood that you will end up receiving what you need goes up exponentially.

Believe me, it's happening every day.

Your Backyard is My Backyard

 July 14, 2009

It’s not my neighborhood. But it’s in my backyard and part of my community. And so I went to see if Mika Community Development Corporation is really doing what it set out to do five years ago; to identify and equip leaders in low-income neighborhoods to build communities with VISION.

It was about 6:00PM when I visited Center Street and from "the outside" - Center Street is like any other (street) where apartment complexes line the blocks as cars cruise the neighborhood looking for a prime parking space.

But as a handful of residents poured over their neighborhood three year strategic plan in Unit #3, I noticed that in this particular community there where a lot of kids under 16 years of age who were playing in groups, hanging onto their bikes and running from one friend’s home to another. So why would women and men who reside in a high-density (low-income) apartment complex want to tackle such a monumental task? Why, because these families want what you and I do. They want to live in a community where neighbors know their neighbors; where families can develop relationships; and where children can have friends.

Wanting a safe environment and a place for the kids to hang after school for homework help, the neighbors got together, organized and ultimately opened a apartment unit (resource center): Center of Hope, a vision for our future. But how did this happen?

Maybe it was a wing and a prayer or maybe it was MCDC and Crissy Brooks, their executive director. Crissy believes. She is a servant leader and she has a heart for the Lord’s work. And while she may do the Lord’s work, what she does remarkably well is get others to make their dreams turn to realities.

I saw Crissy in action the other night. While this strategic planning session was in Spanish, and I tried feebly to comprehend conversations; what I did understand is the passion of the people and their commitment to make a difference in their neighborhood. Ideas flowed. Goals were set. Action items were identified and victories were set to paper.

If Crissy is an angel, the neighoborhood advisor, Juval, is the guardian, someone who may have come to the agency to work part time but his dedication, commitment and passion for the community will leave a lifetime mark with the families he comes in connects with.

Crissy is quoted as saying that her “…greatest joy is seeing neighbors and staff grow in their leadership abilities as they work together to see God’s Kingdom come in their city.” I saw it happening on Center Street all the while God was smiling.

http://www.mikacdc.org/

The World Must Know

 

“The world must know”

Although these words are whispered in the film, they will stay with you and haunt you until you can figure out a way to tell others about this chilling tale of horrific injustice. The Stoning of Soraya M. is set in Iran, based on Freidoune Sahebjam’s book (a French-Iranian journalist who died in 2008), directed by Cyrus Nowrasteh (an Iranian-American filmmaker) who co-scripted with his spouse Betsy Giffen Nowrasteh.

Set in a small village in Iran in 1986 a woman has a terrible secret that the world must know. She is able to share this story about a grave injustice committed in her town just the previous day to her niece. Soraya was falsely accused of adultery by her cheating husband and was stoned to death by the men in the community as required by Islamic law.

The stoning sequence is the most unbearable visual experience I have witnessed at the movies… almost twenty minutes of a woman buried in a hole up to her waist, facing those who will be her murderers. The first stone is cast by Soraya’s father and you die with her with each blow to her face and body as she accepts her fate.

Clearly, the message in this movie is about evil in a religion. If there is a practice that is evil, how can it prevail? Condoning the death penalty unequally based on gender or race or class is evil.

I promise you that this true story will follow you until you find a way to do the right thing. You can start by searching for the truth. You can continue by speaking up against the evils of the world. And you can begin with this piece in the Chessler Chronicles.

http://pajamasmedia.com/phyllischesler/2008/09/25/the-stoning-of-soraya-m-in-iran-not-americas-fault/

“The world must know”

Loud and Proud

July 20, 2009

We didn’t mean to show our true colors and be prideful. We just happened to be at the pride place at the pride time. We found ourselves in a company of lions (a pride) where there was a most ostentatious display (a prideful) of reasonable or justifiable self-respect (pride)? 

Yes, everywhere, guys, dolls and golls (guys dressed up as dolls or dolls dressed up as guys or guys and /or dolls dressed up as each other) were just bursting with pride! The city of San Diego celebrated two days filled with parades, music, concerts, floats and partying full of pride. 

Activists recalled with pride 35 years of discrimination and disparity among lesbians, gays, bi-sexuals and transgendered with LGBT Pride weekend. I always thought that pride was on the one hand, the delight or elation arising from some act, possession. 

Or on the other hand that pride was the original and most serious of the seven deadly sins. It was ultimately the source from which all other sins would arise. This was the desire to be more important or attractive than others. Pride was the failing to acknowledge the good works of others and an excessive love of self. And on this day I learned that pride goes before the fall. And without a doubt, the message from the fit, handsome man on the street was clear. His tight fitting tee said it all: “Swallow my pride.”

Plastered Too!

July 21, 2009

In thought, the possibilities are endless.

In practical terms there are limits.

When I first laid eyes on the stunning wall drenched with a warm, milky Lake Tahoe Blue, I yearned to bathe my senses in its richness. Stroking, ever-gently the Dakota Red with my quivering fingers, I longed to step into the palate before me and never look back.

The June 2009 Dwell LA Conference http://www.dwellondesign.com/ was where I was first introduced to American Clay http://www.americanclay.com/photos/index.html; where natural is beautiful. Under a spell, I was drawn to unique finishes of what otherwise is just painting a wall with color.

Less than a month later I was enrolled in a nine-hour workshop in San Diego on "The Nitty Gritty of Painting with American Clay". I will admit my excitement of being trained by HGTV design star Jen Guerin www.jgcolor.com was getting the best of me, but I would soon learn as I looked down the barrel of the large paint bucket and the variable speed mixing drill with the mud and resin drill mixing shaft --- I was in for a ride. Pouring the 50 pound bag of Loma plaster as the dust residue rises to ceiling I begin to question my motives here. As I poured water to make the plaster mixture along with the pigment coloring I paused and then grabbed hold of the drill that, like a cup of morning coffee, jolted me back to reality.

However, being surrounded by color in this artsy environment, I had to forge on. Japanese trowels, hawks, slapping on plaster, spreading techniques at low angles the thickness of a credit card. All this is great on a confined surface but I was smart enough to grasp that soon this would have to translate to at least one wall or imagine a ROOM!

Yeah, yeah, yeah the product has bennies: there is zero waste, it's mold-resistant, non-fading, easy to repair, durable, 100 percent natural, it doesn't fade, odorless, quick-drying and has the benefits of negative ions.

But after the prep (same with painting), after the primer is applied, the real work begins. You can paint a wall one or two coats with a roller OR you can spread plaster with a trowel over the wall. Then spread the second coat of plaster with the handheld trowel. And then you can begin compressing the surface by hand with a trowel again or simply use a sponge. But trowel you must. Honestly, I lost interest and strength by the second pass.

And if I am going to paint a wall I will need to purchase that drill that really wasn't planning to be my Better Best Friend! After that I will drop $50 plus on the special sand primer, one bag of plaster around $75, then the pigment maybe another $50 unless you want to consider add-ins like mud glue or Israeli soap or a higher level product at twice the cost.

Still, after all is said and done and done and done... it is unspeakably a beautiful end product.

Maybe today I am still in awe or overwhelmed. Or maybe it's just a little too much too late.

Is it A or is it B?

July 12, 2009

WHICH IS THE PURPLE COW?

If you picked image above - B you are incorrect!

My life is more than half over. I could be three years from collecting social security. And at the apex of my working career, I find myself laid off during the worst recession I have ever experienced.

But I am a Purple Cow. I have had a lifetime of remarkable jobs that have yielded exceptional opportunities.

I absolutely love that Facebook and Twitter always ask... What are you doing now?

First, what I am not doing is:
Taking quizzes, trying to figure out what color I am or on my way to a manicure (even tho I may be challenging my brain, splashing on an artificial tan while searching craigslist or I may even be painting my toenails six shades of green).

I am working on:
Several worthwhile volunteer projects, exploring the limits, re-inventing myself, seeking out a risk or two, making connections, networking and even offering up references.

Seth Godin's remarkable little book, A Purple Cow, offers up one ideavirus after another that are really worth sneezing about. While it focuses on marketing and business this book is really about the why and how of what is remarkable. If you want to succeed or succeed trying, be or create someone or something that is remarkable that people will seek out. PERIOD.

I could go on. But I need to get out there right now and be remarkable.
So... read it and leap!

Naughty Naugahyde

July 08, 2009

It almost sounds… naughty!

Naugahyde.
A most unusual and nasty word. Naugahyde.

A word I haven’t heard in years.



I reference the word of artificial leather and a booth appears.
I haven’t given thought to Naugahyde in 45 years.
Say it loud and a famous childhood dream cocktail,
Shirley Temple comes to mind.

I recall sitting perched on the slippery fabric while my tightly wound long blonde curls bobbed in anticipation of my adult-like beverage.

Naugahyde, an honest to goodness word with history and origin that might surprise and amuse even you. Nauga, artificial leather is supposedly named after Naugatuck, Connecticut (say that combination rapidly six times), the city where Naugahyde was first manufactured.

I can remember our first burnt orange 90 degree angled kitchen booth made out of the unspeakable fabric. When my friends came over to the house this piece of furniture was the focal/vocal point of any conversation.

And the booth came with a story or its own legend. The tale was told to me that Nauga was an animal that shed his skin for Naugahyde. It is said that this was a friendlier process than killing animals for leather for sofas, coats, belts, etc.

Our kitchen Naugahyde booth came to life in the early sixties when Allen Sherman popularized the fictional Nauga character in the Mary Poppins movie with the “Chim Chim Cheree “ song:

My chair is upholstered in real Naugahyde
When they killed that Nauga, I sat down and cried.
He moved to Chicago when that Nauga died!

Take Your Cartoon with Kleenex

 

July 02, 2009

An old man, an endearing little boy, a talking dog and a house that flies under balloon power… UP: It will steal your heart and make you fall in love with love again and again.

Be prepared to laugh and cry and believe that adventures can happen even in your own heart and home. This gem of a Disney/Pixar film is a blend of sweetness and cuteness but not too much so. The director brilliantly captures the boldness of color that only a child can see in his innocence and imagination.

A sweet story, UP begins with childhood sweethearts who marry and grow old together. The story focuses on the life of 78-year-old Mr. Fredricksen after his wife, Ellie dies. The world is moving on without him as he shuts himself off from others. His home is a memorial to the love of his life and then one day he just packs up the house, takes it with him, and flies off to fulfill a dream/and adventure of his wife to live in Paradise Falls. He is accompanied by a stowaway Wilderness Explorer Scout, Russell, who is just trying to earn his last, prestigious patch for helping the elderly!

This is the movie of which dreams are made and the places where they do come true.

Korean Street Tacos

July 2009

This ain’t no country club --- and it ain’t no disco neither… Nor is this Kogi Bar-b-q, but these are Korean street tacos. Look no further! You don’t have to drive to LA nor do you have to wait in line for 2 ½ hours. BUT Taqueria El Granjenal Taco Shop located at 899 W. 19th Street in Costa Mesa is just the ticket for authentic Mexican food. Owned by a Korean, who strongly influences the flavorful marinated meat... And while the owner may not be anywhere in sight, get a load outta Kim’s Tacos (beef or pork) for all of $1.79 and you will have found the closest place to food heaven. (Unless there is a hidden meaning known only to the locals or Mr. Kim… El Granjenal is a town in Michoacán, Mexico where everything and everyone is beautiful and welcoming).