Sole-less Holiday

I was about nine when I first realized that my family life was one of uncertainties and fear. My father was in and out of work as much as he was in and out of a bottle of gin—or whatever he could afford at the time. My mother was a stereotypical Native American (half-breed) whose self-induced poisoning came by way of a tall rum and coke every hour on the hour, and a menthol cigarette. Today, she is unpolluted.  I grew up knowing hunger and pain; knowing that my feet were going to hurt and smell the next day because I had hand-me-down shoes with holes in the bottoms; knowing that my Dad would put newspaper inside my shoes and tell me they were fine; knowing that I would be embarrassed at the lunch counter because my friends had money and I had food stamps; not knowing if I would ever feel normal.

 To be fettered by poverty should be endured by no one, especially an innocent child.   

I recently received an e-mail that was forwarded to me by my sister-in-law. The original e-mail was sent by a LAPD officer involved in a program called PALS (police activity league supporters).  Officer Kelly, above her regular duties, is also in charge of the police explorers in her division. She felt the need to reach out to others to help a young man in need and prevent him from slipping through the cracks. His name is Chance. He comes from a broken home and is having trouble fitting in. He lives in a one bedroom apartment with his Mom and brother, and one other family. He has no real father figure and his unemployed mother is trying her best to keep food in the house, which usually doesn’t include school money or clothes. The kids at high school constantly ridicule him for wearing the same hand-me-down clothes every day. And, as if that weren’t enough, he is constantly picked on for being the only blond-haired, blue-eyed teenager on a gang-infested street. At 16 years of age one can only imagine the turmoil his mind and body are experiencing.

Chance is not the only boy with these problems, but I felt similarities between us that compelled me to act. Money is tight for us right now but my wife and I wanted to help, so we went shopping. With a large assortment of clothing in hand, and an even bigger care package from my Momma, I breezed into the police station to meet with Chance.  I had a strange reaction—I was nervous.  Is it possible that I didn’t really want to see myself in him or revisit my past? We sat down across from each other as he opened his gifts. He put me at ease as his smile grew at each item he got. Suddenly he had to excuse himself…he went to the other room to wipe his eyes.  When he came back I shared my childhood history with him. My simple message to him was direct, you are not alone. He began to open up to me. In a show of respect his eyes never averted from mine. He told me his home life consists of a mother who is completely absorbed by her gay relationship of a few years and a lesbian roommate that is constantly yelling at him. If it wasn’t for the explorer program and sports he doesn’t know where he would be today. He tells me he aspires to be a canine police officer—the teaching officers agree that he would make a good officer provided he stays on this path. More people start to arrive. At first I thought it was an outpouring of concerned people coming to support a struggling young man but Chance told me that there is a hand full of explorers graduating tonight and he invites me to stay. How could I refuse?  Like a proud parent I waited with eagerness and when they finally called his name I was the only one standing…I didn’t care—it felt right. He shied away from his photo being taken, shook his instructors’ hands and walked straight down the aisle to the back of the room to shake mine. In the brief time with Chance I noticed when he is in a social climate he’s very distant at first, possibly in attempt to keep himself in check.   I surmise that there is a lack of understanding on the part of his family, however, in his mind; I think he has already replaced them.  We said good-bye to each other…I haven’t heard from him since, perhaps I never will.

If one little gesture from a stranger can make a difference in a person’s life, even if it only has a small impact, it’s worth the effort— it makes us a humane people. Happy holidays!

Jakes house

Dr. Kami (a prominent pediatric dentist in the San Diego area) was charged with involuntary manslaughter. Dr. Kami was alleged to have supplied Sandra Rodriquez (a 21 year old party girl) with Ecstasy that led to an ill reaction, causing her to fall to her death 12 floors beneath the doctor’s Long Beach Hyatt Regency room.

After being exonerated, Dr. Kami made this statement: “The death of Ms. Rodriguez was tragic, and my heart goes out to her family, but bringing up past charges isn’t going to bring her back, especially charges on which I was acquitted.”

Why was the wife of Dr. Kami present (Dr. Nazli, who works with her husband) while he picked up these party girls? Rumor has it she was the one that picked the girls.

In an e-mail response to the doctor’s statement from an unknown sender:
“I know what you did, Kami. You’re not innocent. You simply beat the rap. I’m glad that not a day goes by that you don’t think of her death and your temporary acquittal.
You only prolong the twisted agony of your guilt and judgment by hiding behind your storefront facade. Every dog has his day.”

 Yeah, I want my kids to be treated by Dr. Christian Szell (The Nazi dentist in the “Marathon Man”- “Is it safe”?)

Good question huh?

Hey Jake—better pay on time, or start running!

Copperhill Incident

I understand the need to stop your vehicle to render aid to an injured dog, but parking on a bridge and blocking all lanes causes more harm than good. I was several cars back from the actual scene, and cars that normally travel faster than the speed limit on this stretch of highway are beginning to pile up into the intersection.
Everyone was so concerned with the actual accident, that no one kept the big picture in mind. I got out and ran up to the scene and asked one car to move over to the side…that’s all it took! People! Take the blinders off– there is always more to consider.
I don’t know what happened to the dog but I did hear two male adults arguing over its injured body. At least someone had some compassion and placed the dog in their vehicle, but wouldn’t common sense dictate the need for self preservation (getting off the bridge)or all we all so self absorbed?

Elderly discharge

 

By Michael Roberts

So often I have wondered what compels a person to shoot their mouth off at a complete stranger. In most instances the occurrences are related to driving.  More than often it’s left to a shoot out over hand gestures. But even more mystifying is when it comes from a senior. Not long ago I was driving through a double-sided, narrow parking lot here in our valley. The main thoroughfare had just been reconfigured and all traffic to this Government building is routed in the same direction. As I proceeded down my path, a car driven by what I will identify as Grandma, barreled backward from her spot almost hitting the back end of my car. I turned to look and much to my surprise was Grandma on her cell phone with a leering look on her face directed at me. She guiltily slammed her phone down and began to shout at me through her rolled up window. What followed you ask, the bird! Unleashed like a cannon! All I could do was laugh. I have a healthy respect for my elders, which I don’t feel is a sentiment shared by most, including today’s youth. I understand the basic need to voice a frustration but you’re not a FBI profiler-you don’t know who you are dealing with.  Maybe I presume too much, that years of understanding would lead to self control. My words may seem inhospitable, but I am concerned that spouting off at the wrong person could turn tragic as often seen in today’s shock value-driven media. My advice for all is this: Think before you speak, act – don’t react or simply, just leave it alone! For me, I write about it.  

 Michael Roberts (Santaclaritablog.wordpress.com)

Earth Day 22-2065

 

The year is 2065 and there is no more room for landfills and most of the planets agriculture is tainted, there is no more crude oil to be sucked from the planet; gas prices are $31.00 a gal., legislators failed to do anything about implementing new laws to save the planet….. Now we are seeing the long term effects of such neglect.  Because of male and female reproductive mutations, parents are made to rely completely on fertilization techniques and of the twenty-five percent that take, half of the births are either stillborn or deformed. The other half consists of multiple births of not less than eight identical babies, fraternal sets do not survive in utero and aborting is not an option. The global economy has been unified, unemployment is astronomical and crime is the number one past time. Farfetched? Probably, but I like to write fiction.  Non-fiction food-for –thought:

• A future based on carbon-free, renewable energy that will end our common dependency on fossil fuels, including coal is attainable.

• We as individual’s need to commit to responsible and sustainable consumption.

• Creating a new green economy that lifts people out of poverty by creating millions of quality green jobs and transforms the global education system into a green one is needed now, not in 2065.

How will you respond?    Littlehenn, over and out.

 

SCV writers turf

By Littlehenn

As a new writer to this area I am finding that there is a protocol to article or column submittals. I recently submitted a brief article on the Loose Goose (an insider’s view) which got a “we will pass” by the local paper. Instead they went with quotes from an e-mail sent by the Goose and a phone interview from someone that is unjustly suing him. In my opinion, it’s weak and tabloid like journalism. However, I did like the fact that his contributions to the community were mentioned but the story is bigger than what was printed. Maybe it’s possible that I’m too close to this story? I recently spoke with some writers and it comes down to this: seniority has its privileges, which is why they like the title (senior writer) even if your only twenty something, but most of all, they just don’t want to have their toes stepped on. I can respect that. Besides, I know how difficult it can be to get a decent pedicure or a shoe shine. I don’t fancy myself a journalist nor do I want that label. I’m just looking for a niche and aiming for readership and credibility while I work on my books.   

Loose Goose

check out article

The Goose is Cooked

An insider’s view by Littlehenn

It comes as no surprise to some that a company could meet its demise in this economic uncertainty.  The end of the Loose Goose and its direct counterpart the Loose Goose Wine Festival is a sad and tragic loss for all.  For the Goose to be shot down in mid flight is a difficult prospect to handle, however, much like the streets of Santa Clarita this is just another turning point.

We all became enveloped by Peter Goossen’s vision and his passion for what I would come to call a “festival Grandiose.”  

The first year had the most highlights for me.  I was the construction team leader.  In addition I gained the title ‘Little Doppler’ for projecting the weather.  And, may I just say that year one will go down as a bad weather year for the Goose.  Rain is a killer for any outdoor event and when it came time for breakdown I had to make an emergency call to the site to warn everybody that there was a fast moving cell approaching with lots of rotation.  They responded with, “What the hell does that mean?”  “It means a possible tornado is heading your way!”  Seconds later a burst of wind, hail and a large downdraft destroyed the remaining tents.  Another highlight forever ingrained in my memory will be the annual team leader decompression party.  Like a biological mutation, some things just occur naturally and this party was no exception and was certainly typical for this crowd – the crowd of team leaders.  Unfortunately, we all took an oath” what happens at decompression stays at decompression,” so if you want details, I’m sorry, I cannot oblige.  But, if you’d like to share some of your fondest memories of the festival go to my blog (Littlehenn.wordpress.com).

With each year, new triumphs were enjoyed and new challenges were endured.  Peter with his pied piper like seduction had handpicked and finely crafted a group of people, many from the Festival’s inception, with a few newbies sprinkled in each year, who returned year after year to “volunteer” for his festival.  Since the Festival was so large and held just once a year, it was impossible to ‘staff’ it with people you could really trust – folks that would really care about the outcome.  Peter’s gift, as so many in this valley know, was to energize people and get them excited about X…whatever that may be.  So, he was able to put together, along with help from his team leaders, a network of people that became his volunteer staff – working for wine.  Imagine having 200+ people work their butts off for a really nice party and some free wine. 

For me, 2008 was the year for me to prove that I could organize and coordinate what would be the largest but more profoundly, last Loose Goose Wine Festival.  Peter entrusted me with his festival for which I am grateful.  And, to all my fellow team leaders, I thank you for migrating with me.  To the people of the Santa Clarita Valley and beyond, it was a pleasure serving you in this capacity.

After working on the Festival for 4 years, I reflect with so many emotions.  I gained a huge appreciation for wine and everything related, learned a lot about myself, met wonderful people (vendors, suppliers, sponsors, partners, and festival-goers), made lifelong friends with the team leader group and so much more.  And, as I sit writing this, it is from the immediate memory of this very evening as I sat in a living room with most of the team leaders listening to Peter make his final, yet emotional address to ‘his flock.’ 

My most recent conversation with Peter was enlightening. He told me that the first year was rather harsh and he considered the possibility of not hosting another festival.  But, like most big dreamers, Peter knew he had a good concept and needed to see it come to fruition.  Due to a multitude of damaging scenarios including the brush fires, inclement weather, a failing economy, the Loose Goose had made it to the extinction list – a long list as of late.

To internalize all of this would probably kill the average person, and in Peter’s case it almost did.  He became gravely ill and is still suffering the effects of his poor health.  Objectively, I feel Peter is a very private person. He never shared his anxieties because he felt it was an unfair burden to those who believed in him.  I can’t begin to fathom the impact this has had and is having on his wife and three small boys.  When all is said and done, he will likely have lost everything.  

Are there some burned bridges in this community for him?  Maybe, but I believe he put his best webbed foot forward and tried to give this valley something to remember and cherish always.  I sincerely hope that all the folks who constantly called on him will recall fondly the person who attended every event, gave tirelessly of his time, and donated more product than perhaps he should have, all in the name of good business and charitable giving. 

As for the future, who knows? What I do know is that Peter is a visionary and an entrepreneur at heart and as any risk taker will tell you, we learn from our mistakes.

p.s.  Perhaps our City should seriously consider keeping this event? 

                                            Littlehenn (SantaClaritaBlog.wordpress.com)

Renaissance Dad’s Guide for the Parents-to-be

 

By Michael Roberts

Part 1

So you’re pregnant, now what? How do you truly plan for or expect what is to come with a new pregnancy?  From the moment she says “Honey, I have something to tell you” or “I thought you said you were sterile!” this is a life changing event whether this is your first or your octupleth. So you’ve got you’re: Ob/Gyn., hospital plan, overnight bag, and 911 programmed into your phone’s speed dial function.  That phone is next to the flashlight strategically placed next to your wallet and keys.  Every day you make sure there is plenty of gas in the car.  You damn well know you’re not delivering this baby yourself and getting a taxi in this valley, forget about it!  Then there’s countless nights rehearsing in your head those words, “honey its time” and immediately springing to life at 3 am.  Come to think of it, that’s how my wife became pregnant!  Note: while trying to get the pregnant lady ready and loaded, (in the car) don’t forget all the items you need for the hospital and try not to step on the dog upon your graceful leap, er crash, as you run out the door. 

 Here is a small taste of what I found helpful: 

• Do you have a chain to break?

This is a slight change of pace but I feel it’s a necessary topic… Old dogs can learn new tricks.  So, gather up your bad habits and flush them.  Smoking!? Now is the perfect time to quit because you owe it to your new family.  And trust me; you cannot afford to buy cigarettes when you have to buy diapers!  Excessive drinking!?  The blurry mind does not capture any real moment. Cursing?  Oh come on! Even I love to drop the F bomb, nothing can exclaim better- but don’t we want more for our children?  Abuse? I have seen and experienced this evil in my life and it can come in many forms.  For the sake of the innocent and pure souls, sincerely ask yourself, “Do I want to pass this behavior on?”  I chose a long time ago that I did not want to be a person who could throw anger around so needlessly.

• Choosing a doctor

In most cases your HMO restricts your choices, like a presidential voting ballot.  I just asked my regular doctor, “Who delivered you’re children?”  For most people, bedside manner is right up there with academic credentials.  Referrals are the best source of info in this case. 

• Prenatal Care

 A healthy diet, prenatal vitamins and very mild exercise is a good start. Then it’s time to consider birth-assistance methodology like Lamaze, the Bradley method and Hypnobirthing. Much to my scrutinizing surprise, we went with hypnobirthing. No it’s not some scurrilous performer that puts you way under and then you awaken with a snap of the fingers and a newborn nestled against mommy.  It’s just another medium to help the mother gain control of her body and relax.  In retrospect, the only thing I got from it was peace of mind knowing she felt in control and she didn’t let the fear factor consume the experience.  Then there’s the question of a natural delivery versus C-section? Every woman wants to deliver naturally, it’s the true order of nature (naturally, nature, get it?!)  However, let the doctors make the call whether you need intervention or not. And, what about those sympathy pains? Psychosomatics and Murphy’s Law dictate that it is possible!  I did get bloated for awhile – so you read stories to her belly, and she reluctantly reads stories to yours.

• The hospital

 Depending on how fast the labor is you may only have time to see what color they painted the room. Get acquainted with the nurses because let’s face it they are the true backbone of any efficiently running hospital. Don’t care for your nurse? Ask to switch, it’s ok. Do you need an I.V.? My wife opted for a saline lock, they are portable and easily accessible for the nurses and if you truly need fluids they just plug it in.

• Coming home

Before you come home, anticipate the needs of your wife: a few meals in the ready, clean linens, prescriptions to be filled, etc.  Create a list.  Got a dog? Bring home one of the baby blankets you used to swaddle your newborn with and introduce the new scent to Rover. The last thing you want is Rover marking his new found territory. You’re going to need an infant car seat. Do yourself a favor and get one that has a snap and go type base, you’ll thank me later. I would advise against visitors for awhile – this is a key bonding time for Mommy, Daddy and baby.

Whether you’re twenty-something or fifty-something, there is a metamorphosis taking place mentally and physically in the mother and father. Discussing, planning and implementing are essential for a cohesive and enjoyable experience. If you’re sixty-something I think Jerry Springer and the Guinness book of records folks are looking for you. Be prepared to laugh, sing and cry.  Something happens to us as developing parents… we become emotionally attached. Some of this may seem nerve-racking and it should be, but the rewards far outweigh any possible negatives. Welcome to the race!