Happy President’s Day

Missing bench-

When I was in college and starting to take classes in economics and government, my dad and I got in several recurring arguments. My dad was a lawyer – more specifically, a criminal defense lawyer – and he was very interested in the technicalities of the law. I thought that they were only technicalities and he thought they were the very foundation and our arguments often swirled around the spirit of the law vs. the letter of the law. I have always been a lumper and a spirit of the law kind of guy – unless it was about me and I was trying to get something, I suppose – and my dad, by training and disposition, was a letter of the law kind of guy.

One of the examples he liked to give was a case that went to the Supreme Court. As I remember it – and I may be way wrong on the details, here – in the 1930’s the Federal Government passed a tax on checks over a certain amount, I think it was $50. To get around that tax, a guy wrote twenty checks for $49.99 and one check for $.20 to pay a thousand dollar bill. The IRS taxed him anyway and the guy sued, he lost and appealed, eventually the case worked its way up to the Supreme Court where he won.

My dad’s point was that even The Supreme Court believed that technicality of the law was all that anybody could go by and there was no such thing as the spirit of the law. My position was that there was a spirit of the law and the Supreme Court was wrong. I usually defaulted to Dred Scott v. Sandford in arguments like this, saying that Dred Scott proved how wrong the court could be, and around and around we would go.

One of the requirements of the The Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act is that businesses with over 50 employees must offer health insurance to full-time employees. I keep reading about companies changing employees to part time to get away from that requirement and I wonder What kind of selfish jerk would do that?

According to an article written by Dr. Clarence Lusane, entitled Missing from Presidents’ Day: The People They Enslaved:

George Washington’s stated antislavery convictions misaligned with his actual political behavior. While professing to abhor slavery and hope for its eventual demise, as president Washington took no real steps in that direction and in fact did everything he could to ensure that not one of the more than 300 people he owned could secure their freedom. During the 10 years of construction of the White House, George Washington spent time in Philadelphia where a law called the Gradual Abolition Act passed in 1780. It stated that any slaves brought into the state were eligible to apply for their freedom if they were there for longer than six months. To get around the law, Washington rotated the people working for him in bondage so that they were there for less than six months each.

I guess the answer to that What kind of selfish jerk question is the kind of guy who might become President of the United States, the kind of guy who might even become The Father of our Nation.

 

Lip service is better than no service

Street Art-

My account was hacked and I should have shown better judgement in my initial response and handling of the event. Irina Rodnina, three-time Olympic gold medal winner, five months after she tweeted a racist photograph of President Barack Obama.

When I was a kid, it was OK to be a bigot, people advertised that apartments  were restricted, meaning Jewish people couldn’t live there. In the South, under Jim Crow, African-Americans were barred from everything including drinking fountains and State Colleges.  Then it was more than fashionable to be a bigot, it was expected. All the best people were  intolerant, that was how someone could tell they were quality people.

Today, that is not the case. I don’t mean that there aren’t bigots around anymore, but it is no longer socially acceptable. Today, when someone, like Irina Rodnina, says something intolerant, the world treats them as if they are small and stupid. I know that some of those people attacking Rodnina are just covering up their own intolerance, but that is still much better than climbing on her bandwagon.

Today, it is no longer fashionable to be a bigot or a racist or intolerant. There may be apartments that still will not rent to Jewish people, but nobody is advertising it. Sure, part of the reason is because it is against the law, but a big part of the reason is that it is no longer a popular thing to do. Is that great? No, but it is much better than it was.

San Francisco from near Nike Missile Site SF-88-L

View from Nike Battery-1128

I had lunch with my daughter a couple of days ago and, concerned about traffic crossing the Golden Gate Bridge, I left for home early. There wasn’t any traffic, so I took a detour up to an old Nike Hercules battery overlooking San Francisco. Standing there, looking at the view, I remembered one warm summer morning in 1965, when I drove a general up to this battery.

I was a Sergeant – a buck sergeant, E5 – teaching Germans  at Orogrande, New Mexico, when I met General Lolli. He had recently taken over the 28th NORAD Region – I thought it was the Eighth Region, but Google tells me, No, it was the Twenty Eight NORAD/Western NORAD Region – and Lolli was on a tour of various training facilities. Since I was from the Bay Area, he asked me if I wanted to be stationed in Sausalito and be his driver. I said something like Yes! Sir! and told my fellow teachers and my commander that I would soon be transferred to San Francisco. Then…nothing happened; for just long enough for everybody to think I had become slightly delusional. It wasn’t until about two weeks later, on a Thursday afternoon, that I was called into my Battery Commander’s office and told to report to Major General Andrew Lolli at Hamilton Air Force Base by 8 AM the following Monday.

While we were stationed at Hamilton Air Force Base, Lolli was an Army general – the only Army commander of a NORAD region – and I was his Army driver so I had to live at an Army facility. Fort Baker was the closest Army barracks and I had a private room near the entry (General Lolli lived at the Fontana West in San Francisco). Almost every morning, he would drive across the Golden Gate bridge and pick me up at Fort Baker, I would salute him and then drive him to Hamilton. On this particular morning, Lolli told me to drive him up the hill to the Nike Hercules Missile Site overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge.

As an aside, this was the height of the Cold War and the country was in full, paranoic, war hysteria. Schoolkids would practice hiding under our desks when the air raid sirens went off outside; F 101 Voodoo fighters, would take off out of Hamilton Air Base, looking for nuclear armed Russian TU-16 Badger heavy bombers; and our final defence was a series of twenty four Nike Hercules Surface to Air Missile – SAMs to the cognoscenti – sites around the Bay Area. I am not sure if this battery had missiles armed with nuclear weapons but the system was designed for nukes. End aside.

As we drove up to the site, Lolli called in a mock attack and, when we got there, the klaxon was going off and everybody was running to their battle stations. The missile site had probably been at DEFCON 5, but Lolli had now called it up to DEFCON 1, Air Defense Warning – RED. I don’t know if targets had been assigned, but the blast doors were opened and the missiles were brought up on their elevators, ready to launch.

I was standing way out of the way – way out of the way, not being nuclear cleared – next to a guard, and, to make conversation, I asked him how he liked being stationed in Sausalito. I was shocked when he said, It is terrible duty, nobody likes military people in the Bay Area, San Francisco is too expensive, and the weather sucks. It was hard to not agree about the weather. It was a warm summer morning almost everyplace but here; here we stood in a cold wind that was pushing the wet fog past us and then through the Golden Gate. The pavement was wet and slick  and, in the distance, we could hear, but not see, lonely fog horns. Waiting for the All Clear, I thought, The weather may be crummy but this is San Francisco and my dating prospects are much better here than Orogrande or Korea.

When the All Clear finally did come and General Lolli got back in the car, he was furious. It had taken about fifteen minutes too long to come up to DEFCON 1 and Lolli has just relieved a full-bird-Colonel of his command. As we drove down the hill, the General said, If this had been real, I would have lost San Francisco.

Now, almost 49 years later, we are in a warm spell, the only fog is across The Bridge, the Nike Hercules Missile Site is no longer operational, and San Francisco is still there, sparkling in the sun. I watch a freighter go under The Bridge and a Raven joins me. Maybe she wants me to give her – and I am saying her with no idea if it is a him or a her – some food, maybe he is just enjoying the view like me, maybe she wants to chastise me for all the harm my race has done to the planet. I tell her,  Hey, it could be worse, we could have fired off those missiles, we could have destroyed everything in a flash, more than 10,000 flashes, actually. But since you are here, just stay still and look over here, let me get your picture.

View from Nike Battery-1136

View from Nike Battery-1137 View from Nike Battery-1147

 

Reading about Michael Schumacher, thinking about traffic

 

View from Edgewood-3915-2

If you haven’t been worrying about the fate of Michael Schumacher, perhaps now is the time to start. Doctors have spent the past two weeks attempting to bring the seven-time Formula One World Champion out of the coma he’s been in since a December 29 skiing accident, but attempts to elicit responses to “deliberate stimuli” have been absent. Rather, Schumacher has only displayed reflex twitches. By Brandon Turkus at Auto Blog.

Michael Schumacher has been unconscious for almost a month and a half. I wonder how that can be? Two months ago, he was one of the fittest human beings on the planet. He has been in crashes at over 150 miles per hour and walked away…smiling. Gabby Giffords was shot in the head and was off the ventilator in three days. I keep thinking how capricious life is. All of it, at every level.

We live on a planet that is large enough to have an atmosphere and small enough to not have crushing gravity. We are the right distance from the sun to have water that isn’t frozen or boiling. However, what amazes me every day is the afternoon traffic. There are about seven million people in the Bay Area and, according to the U.S. Census Bureau, about 16% or 331,000 people use mass transit. That means that about 1,738,000 don’t use mass transit. Some walk and some ride a bike, but most drive; there are, very roughly, somewhere around 1,000,000 cars on the road every afternoon.

Most days, there is an accident or two, sometimes three and occasionally none. We have all had an occasion in which we jammed on the breaks and just missed plowing into somebody or something. That happens a hundred times a day, every afternoon, and in almost every case, it is a near miss. I find that amazing: amazing that there are so few accidents and amazing that there is one almost every day.

I find it amazing that we live on such a thin edge. That we could trip and fall and end up like Michael Schumacher or, much, much, more likely, get up and walk away with a dirt stain on our pants, mumbling about how unlucky that was.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Doing it in the rain

 

Farmer's Market loot-1112Over the weekend, a gentle rain –  in reality, a drizzle – fell steadily from the soft gray sky. It has been so long, it seems like magic.

On Saturday night, we had even more magic, going to dinner at Central Kitchen followed by the Kronos Quartet at Z Space, a spectacular birthday present to Michele that I got to enjoy, from Richard and Tracy. Coming into Central Kitchen from the rain, happy customers had already filled the restaurant with damp celebration and all we had to do was join in.

I felt like a young twenty-something again, just starting to go out and explore eating in nice restaurants. My twenties were during the 60’s and besides The Hippies and The Free Speech Movement, the Bay Area was incubating a new food movement that went viral; people as diverse as Cecilia Chiang of the Mandarin Restaurant, and Alice Waters of Chez Panisse, were redefining California food and dining out became an adventure. Central Kitchen, which bills itself as part of the ongoing conversation about what California cuisine means, brought back memories of those adventures. The Central Kitchen was not the best food I have ever had, but it was the most interesting food I have had in a long, long, time. We started with what they called an Orange Wine and it was actually orange – the wine was made as if it were a red, but from white grapes – and delicious.  It went very well with my appraiser of octopus with pork belly, blood sausage, pickled mushroom & almond. 

I grew up with Jazz and  in my late teens and early twenties, Jazz was Chamber Music (we spent alot of time sitting in small dark rooms listening to people like Cal Tjader, Miles Davis, and Barney Kessel). By the late 70’s, I discovered the The Kronos Quartet which has, pretty much by itself, redefined Chamber Music. The program Saturday night was a World Premiere of a work by Mary Kouyoumdjian, Bombs of Beirut, that was commissioned by the Quartet as part of a program called the Under 30 Project which is designed to help nurture the careers of young artists, while enabling Kronos to forge stronger connections with the next creative generation.

So much of my life is habituated and going to Central Kitchen and Z Space reminded me that it wasn’t always so, it also triggered my desire to take more advantage of the adventure of living in Northern California. Central Kitchen’s promo goes on to say  California is a young state, and right now it’s an exciting time to be… That is it, that is all it says as a tagline under the name Central Kitchen, on the Google page. Maybe that is all it needs to say, right now it’s an exciting time to be. 

On the way home from San Francisco, where we spent the night at Richard and Tracy’s, mists hung like cotton sashes in the hills. It was warm – 51°F. – and the trees were heavy with dew, releasing their collected moisture with big drops that hit the ground in hushed splashes. We detoured by the Menlo Park Farmer’s Market because I want to pick up some purple Peruvian potatoes and heritage, Bloomsdale Long Standing , spinach. The drizzle had let up and the farmer’s Market was full; full of shoppers and full of goodies saying Me, me, buy me.

I got some Yukon  Gold potatoes, red Dandelion Greens, baby Collards, and Kai-lan (a sort of proto-broccoli with mostly leaves and stems with yellow flower). Michele got a bunch of  Narcissus Erlicheer, baby lettuces, two huge artichokes, a head of Romanesco broccoli, a couple of lamb shanks from Holding Farm, and a jar of fermented Winter Sauerkraut (cabbage, kale, spinach, carrots, turnips, rutabaga, and kohlrabi, with garlic).

When we got home, we turned on the Olympics and I laid out our loot on the diningroom table to photograph.

Farmer's Market loot-1126