Doing Nothing Won't Solve Anything

Columbine, Jonesboro, Blacksburg, Tucson, Aurora, Oak Creek, Clackamas, Newtown. We can no longer call these “isolated incidents.” This, unfortunately, has become a way of life. A way that must be changed now, before it happens again. For me, what makes it worse are all the people who think everyone should be armed. Are you insane? More guns equal more murders. People say if the ‘good guys’ have guns, they’ll stop the ‘bad guys.’ When I was in college, I had a summer job at a restaurant. My co-workers’ brother would come in every so often for free food (don’t tell the boss!) We were all around the same age and became friends. He was in a bar one night when a robber came in. The “good guy”, an off-duty cop, pulled out his gun and started firing. My friend was caught in the crossfire. He wasn’t killed, but that 19-year old who loved to go out dancing, was paralyzed from the waist down. The robber only wanted money. If that “good guy” didn’t have a gun, my friend would probably still be dancing today. When our founding fathers wrote the 2nd Amendment, the world was a vastly different place. Those men could no more imagine school shootings or automatic weapons than they could imagine cell phones or computers. Laws must evolve as life evolves. What worked 200 years ago, doesn’t work today. Automatic weapons, semi-automatic weapons, extended clips---none of those things had been invented when the 2nd Amendment was written. The only purpose of automatic weapons is to kill people, and to kill a lot of them in a short amount of time. There is no place in a civilized society for these types of weapons. They must be banned. Guns should be harder to obtain, and the laws need to be more uniform from state to state. If you want a gun for a legitimate purpose, if your hobby is target shooting or hunting, you should be OK with better regulation—because you don’t want the “bad guys” to ruin your right to own a firearm. I wanted to volunteer at a FanFest event when the MLB All-Star game came to Southern California a few years ago. I had to submit to a background check—just to volunteer my time. Buying a gun should be harder than volunteering for community service. I know people say there will always be criminals and crazies and bad guys. Sure, there will be, but doing nothing doesn’t solve anything. We have to try. We take off our shoes and put our shampoo in a plastic baggie in order to board a plane. Is that a perfect solution? No, it’s not—but we did something. We tried. We can be better. We must change our reality in the memory of 20 first graders, 6 teachers, 12 moviegoers, 6 constituents, 2 Christmas shoppers, 6 Sikhs and 32 college students. For all of us.

Grateful for others

Lately, especially over the past year, we've all seen the psycho-babble about finding something to be grateful for each day. I usually think "Gee, isn't that nice?" with a sneer on my face. I'm more the type who wallows in self-pity. I'm smart enough to know that I'm better off than literally billions of others on this planet in terms of health, finances, housing, food, hell--just about everything. I know that, but sometimes it's hard to remember, like these last 72 hours. I had a productive day planned on Saturday. I managed to get only the first thing done when my car just turned off WHILE I WAS DRIVING!!! I could have been killed! Fortunately, gratefully, I was near the entrance to a parking lot and was able to push the car to a relatively safe spot with the help of 2 strangers who jumped out of their cars and ran over to help me. Got a tow to my mechanic and they ordered a part for replacement the next day. Because the car started at that point, they sent me on my way. Too afraid to drive the rest of the day, I stayed home and did laundry. Still terrified to drive back to my mechanic on Sunday, my friend Willie followed me to make sure I'd make it there, then dropped me off at my Brownsbackers bar so I could watch football. After the game, my friend Becky picked me up from the bar and took me to pick up my car. I'm grateful to have friends who took time out of their weekend to help me out. I was still apprehensive about driving the car, but I made it through the weekend. On the way to work Monday, the 'check engine' light came on, so I was back at my mechanic for the 3rd day in a row. They assumed the light came on because it was improperly reset during the repairs. I managed to get just one more errand done when the car stopped in the middle of traffic again. But now, I wasn't near a parking lot and I had on high heels. The car behind me pulled into the next lane and left, but fortunately, gratefully, the guy behind him pulled over to help push my car. Then a girl in another car put her emergency flashers on, jumped out of her car, and helped him push while I steered to a safe side street. I called my mechanic, and after a little while my car started, so I drove back there, shaking the whole way. The manager, who I've known forever, figured out the problem. He hadn't been there on Sunday, and he made a nasty phone call to the guy who was there and made the mistake. And they are paying for the rental car I now have while they fix my car tomorrow. For me, it always seems to be a bad situation that makes me grateful for others, because none of us can get through this life alone. I'm grateful for the goodness and kindness in others--friends and strangers who go out of their way for someone else. That's what it's all about.

Paying to Pee

Bathrooms in Italy are a challenge for Americans. You have to figure out if the flusher is a wall-mount flat panel, a pushbutton, or a foot lever. The flat panel flushers are easy. The push buttons can be really hard. Thank God I'm flexible enough to put my foot 3 feet up on the wall to push the damn thing in--one was way too hard to push with just my hand. Same issue with the sinks. How do you turn on the faucet? Some have sensors, some have knobs, some have foot levers. It's a game to figure out which it is and we spent a lot of time looking around every bathroom we were in. Then the big issue: paying to pee. What a racket! We want to open public pay toilets in the US. Most toilets cost .50 to 1 Euro. It's not cheap! There were a few places without attendants and one where we could squeeze past the turnstile--what a bargain! We were happy on those occasions when we got a free pee.

Italy is a Workout

I spent 2 weeks in Italy. I ate a ton of food. I drank a few tons of wine. And I lost weight! So did my friends. The tour we took was titled "Leisurely Rome and Tuscany", plus we added Sorrento and Venice to our itinerary. I need to check my Webster's because either the tour company or I have the wrong definition of 'leisurely'. We were constantly on the go. Not that I'm complaining--we saw everything! We estimate that we walked 40 - 50 miles over the 2 weeks we were there. Italy is hilly. That's why they have better skiers than golfers. And it's why most of our miles were up and down hills and steps. The climb to the top of St. Peter's Basilica was brutal, but the view was worth it. Plus, it was good for bragging rights in our tour group--no one else attempted it. The subway in Rome is way underground, lots of steps to get to the trains--although I admit we cheated and took a few of the escalators. In Sorrento, it was quicker to take the steps down to the port than to wait for the bus--even if I did whine about the climb back up to town. On the Isle of Capri, the signs for the Blue Grotto were probably meant for cars, not walkers. After what seemed like a marathon, we caved in and flagged down a bus for the last few miles. Even Venice, built over the water, has only arched bridges: up the steps, over the bridge, down the steps, bridge after bridge after bridge. Italy is a great stairclimber workout. And every second of it was awesome!

Italian Customer Service

Italian Customer Service is kind of a funny thing. You just have to laugh and take it with a grain of salt. It started on our Alitalia flight to Rome. A 12-hour ride and not a single flight attendant even cracked a smile. The food cart rammed my friend's seat evey time it came down the aisle, and she never even received a 'sorry', 'excuse me', or any kind of acknowledgment whatsoever. When they needed you to do something, like move aside if you were standing in the aisle, they didn't speak--they just pointed. At a hotel in Rome, we needed to buy bus and metro tickets from the front desk. We knew how many tickets we needed but the desk clerk wouldn't even let us finish a sentence and kept interrupting us when we were trying to explain it all. My favorite 'customer service' experience was at Termini, the train station in Rome. We needed information on the times and prices for the train to Venice. I had already researched this from home, but we wanted to verify it in person. After waiting for half an hour, our number is called and we go to the window. Some Italian woman pushed in front of us and he waited on her first. Only Americans stand in line, Italians push to the front. Once she was done, I told him what we wanted. He presses a few buttons on his computer--and this is my favorite part: turns his computer monitor towards us, then promptly turns around to talk to his friends who were gathered in his cubicle. I had to get his attention in order to get him to scroll so we could see the next page of the train schedule. It was unbelievable and funny at the same time! But, I guess, in their defense, it all worked out: we landed safely at Fiumicino, we successfully hopped the correct bus and subway to get into town, and we made that train to Venice. And for what it's worth, I'd do it all over again!!

Replacement Refs

I had to wait a day before I commented on the incredibly controversial ending to Monday night's game between the Packers and the Seahawks. I know it's big business with lots of money involved, and I also know it's still just a game. There are way more important things to concern ourselves with--like the economy, war, poverty, world hunger, healthcare, education. But football is an escape from that for a few hours each Sunday (and Monday and Thursday.) To me, what happened Monday night shows us that the NFL epitomizes "Corporate America", where upper management simply doesn't understand how the work gets done. Where they think the 'stars" are all they need and the 'peons' are expendable, interchangeable, that anyone can do those jobs. Monday night's ending proved that blatantly wrong. Nothing personal against the men who are the replacement refs, but you don't have a first year medical student performing a heart transplant. These guys are Division 2/3 college refs. That game, while entertaining, is slower, the players aren't 350 pounds, and the stakes are smaller. It's not that it's good or bad--it's simply very different. That two refs, standing next to each other, signalled 2 opposite calls, and totally missed the correct call, was an embarassment. It looked like a Three Stooges sketch. There is too much money involved to exhibit that kind of incompetence. And it is devolving each week--what will happen when a wrong or missed call results in some kind of injury? Is the NFL going to let it go that far? The NFL and the Referees Union need to sit down, hash it out, and not get up until a deal is struck--and both sides need to give in just a little to restore the integrity and safety of the game before something even worse happens. The clock is ticking a lot faster now.

Was Jesus married?

Was Jesus married? I love this news item about the parchment allegedly written by Jesus referring to his wife. I was raised Catholic. I attended Catholic schools from kindergarten through high school. I used to go to church, but haven't for years--I golf on Sundays now. But I still consider myself Catholic. Old habits (no pun intended) die hard. I find the story of Jesus and the times in which He lived very interesting. I simply adore biblical movies (Jesus of Nazareth is my favorite--I watch it a couple times a year) and books, especially ones that get your imagination running wild, like The Da Vinci Code. Did Jesus have a wife? If you look at it objectively, it's pretty likely that He was married. In that time period, marriages were arranged by relatives and community elders. You didn't really have a choice, most people were probably married off by the time they were 16 years old. Jesus was 33 when He died--He could have been married more than a decade by that time. I hope He was--everybody needs someone! I also really, really like how the parchment reads "She will be able to be my disciple." This means women were equal in His eyes. That's my favorite part! This is where the church went the opposite direction and that's too bad. Maybe the church wouldn't be dying out in Europe and North America if women could be priests, and if priests had been allowed to marry--just like Jesus. And maybe that little peice of parchment, with a look into the long-ago past, gives us hope for the future.

The Worst in Some People Brings Out the Best in Others

I love the Batman movies. I've seen them all: Christopher Nolan's Dark Knight series, the older ones with Michael Keaton, Geoerge Clooney and Val Kilmer. So it was a lock that I would go to see The Dark Knight Rises. I thought I'd wait a week or two for the crowds to die down, but after the shooting Friday night in Aurora, I decided it was important to go opening weekend. I don't want the bad in this world to win out over the good, I don't want to live in fear, and I wanted to stand with Christopher Nolan and his cast to honor the people in Aurora who couldn't wait to see that movie and now never will. I chose the earliest movie, figuring it would be the least crowded. On my way there, I was the first car stopped at a red light. When it turned green, I went. BOOM--IMPACT! And a person went flying across the hood of my car! Holy Shit!! This guy jumps up and starts saying that I hit him. He hit me! Unfortunately for him, a busy road yields a lot of witnesses. Witnesses who got involved, got out of their cars, blocked traffic and kept telling me "It's not your fault. It's not your fault. He ran the red light. Are you OK?" "Call the cops, his insurance needs to pay for the damage to your car." "I'll wait with you. I saw everything. It's not your fault." My hands were shaking so much I don't know how I managed to dial 911--it's a very interesting experience to watch a person roll over the hood of your car. Then the red-light runner gets belligerent with me! Says "You fucked up my bike. You have to pay for it." I wanted to say 'Dude--I didn't run the fucking red light--you fucked up your own bike.' But I didn't say that because I was terrified he'd take a swing at me. That's when the huge, burly, tattooed motorcyclist pulled up and stopped. My witnesses were still there--but they didn't look like this guy. The motorcyclist didn't see the accident, but he said "I'll wait with you. I saw him getting belligerent. I'll wait with you till the cops get here". He stopped merely to protect me, to make sure I was safe from this guy. How nice was that? The cops arrived, got the witness accounts and my information. Then they talked to guy who hit me--who was such a dick that he was mouthing off to the cops! I'm standing next to my car, surveying the damage and I hear him say "Your car is fine, Lady". It's not. The cop standing with me says "Pipe down, you're not helping yourself here. You're really lucky, you know? It could have been a lot worse". He finally figured it out and shut up. And he is very lucky. If he had been 1 or 2 seconds faster, he would have passed in front of the northbound lanes, and with that 30-foot head start through the intersection, a car would have hit him, instead of him hitting a car--he could be dead. I'm sure he'll have a few bruises, and his insurance will probably go up after I take my car in for repairs, but he's alive. And I hope he learned his lesson and won't run a red light on a bicycle on a very busy 6-lane road again. And I have to thank the CMPD officers who responded. They were very nice. When we were done and getting ready to leave, one of them said "I'm sorry your day started like this. I hope it gets better for you". That's when I almost started to cry. When something bad happens in the world, like the shooting in Aurora, you lose a little bit of faith in the goodness of mankind. I am grateful to the people on Harbor Blvd this morning: my witnesses, my protector, and the cops--strangers who stopped to help me, and who made me believe again.

Trump National vs. Pelican Hill

I have been lucky enough to play two of the premier golf courses in Southern California: Trump National Los Angeles and Pelican Hill Newport Beach. They don't even begin to compare! At Pelican Hill they couldn't wait for us to leave and tried to shuffle us off the course at the 17th hole. We told them we were going to finish our round. God knows how rude they were to the foursome behind us! We even had to go to the mall down the street to get a post-round beer as they had closed the bar early! Guess they all wanted to get home. Trump National--totally different story. They could not have gone more out of their way to be friendly and accomodating. Range balls, water, and golf towels were included. Every single employee introduced themsleves and asked if they could be of any assistance and told us to push the button on the golf cart if we needed anything while on the course. (All I needed was a better game--and I don't think they could have fixed that!) Pelican Hill doesn't even have GPS on thier carts--shocking for a course charging $250 a round! Pelican bills itself as an ocean view course. If you carry around a postcard of Newport Beach, you'll see the ocean--otherwise, don't count on it. Trump National is truly on the ocean. It might be chilly and windy, just to test your game, but the ocean views from every single hole are spectacular! And best of all, Trump National plays like it's your own private course. We did not even see another golfer until the 16th, and then we just got a glimpse of them driving away from the hole as we were pulling up to tee off. If you are going to drop a shitload of money on golf in Southern California, go to Trump National--it's a great golf day!

My pet peeve--plastic bags and how to load them

All hail the LA City Council for becoming the largest city in the US to ban plastic grocery bags! Californians use 12 billion plastic bags a year and only 5% are recycled. I believe a contributing factor is that check-out clerks are trained improperly in loading bags. At Target a few weeks ago, I bought wine, crackers, and toothpaste, among other things. The trainee clerk was told to put my wine in one bag and the toiletries in another, and the food in another. I told the trainer clerk I only wanted one bag. She was very nice but still tried to put the wine in a separate bag. I had to repeat that I only wanted one bag--I only had a few items that were lightweight and easily fit into one bag. And last I checked, the crackers are inside a sealed bag, inside a sealed box. The wine is corked and the cork is sealed. The toothpaste is in a sealed tube inside a sealed box. I'm fine with sealed boxes touching each other for the ride home from the store. I went to Target again today. I bought milk, bandaids and vitamins. The clerk put the milk in a separate bag. I said "This is a waste of bags" and I put the bandaids and vitamins in with the milk. She said "Oh but they'll get wet." Seriously, lady??!! The bandaids are wrapped up inside a box, the vitamins are in a jar inside a box. The condensation from the milk carton won't hurt anything on my 5-minute drive home. And you know what? I got home and nothing was wet. Shocking! This inordinate amount of waste is why we need these bag ban laws on the books. If you've ever participated in a beach clean-up or trash pick-up event, you know that you collect tons of plastic bags. Even if you don't mean to pollute, when you toss them in the trash or a dumpster, they are so light, any amount of wind picks them up and carries them on the breeze until they get stuck in brush or trees or power lines. A car driving by moves them to a new location. They only stop blowing in the wind when they land in some body of water and pollute our lakes and oceans, or end up in the gutter only to be washed into the sewer and out to sea, therefore threatening the fragile ecosystems that sustain life. So I applaud the LA City Council and hope it starts the ball rolling to make this ban statewide. And once that happens, California can lead the way for the rest of the nation to follow in our bag-free footsteps!

What does a stolen car mean?

For as long as I can remember, or at least as long as I have lived in California, I have had a recurring dream that my car gets stolen. It's happened with different cars (but always my real car at the time), in different places, under different circumstances, with different people involved, but always the same theme. I had another one of these dreams last night. My car was stolen in 'downtown LA'--although the place certainly wasn't downtown LA. And all the dreams end the same: Whether friends, aquaintances or strangers are around, no one offers assistance, no one seems to care, and I am left trying to contact the police by myself. In last night's dream, in "downtown LA", I was going to give a ride home to a neighbor. In real life, this guy doesn't exist. I guess he was just a figment of my imagination. In the dream, when the car was gone, this 'neighbor" found another way home and left. Then I ran into a friend's brother, who does exist in real life. He was going to give me a ride home, but I had to keep arguing with him that I had to go to the police station. He finally understood and let me out of the car so I could report the crime to the cops. And then he was on his way. Then the dream ended--like they always do. I've never gotten to the point in the dream when the police come, or the car is recovered, or have any kind of conclusion. It just ends. I don't like it--it's very unsettling. So, today I researched dream interpretations on the internet. The few sites that had "car being stolen" listed, had the same interpretation. They said that dreaming about your car being stolen represents yourself and your ability to control your life, and that your personality is being taken away either through the loss of employment, a relationship, or other circumstance in which your sense of self plays a role. None of that applies to my life right now. At least I don't think it does. But I was telling a friend the other day that I am bored with everything in life and if I want to make it different, I need to do something different. Maybe the dream is telling me to go for it, that I do need to change my personality, my life, my sense of self. Now I just need to figure out who I am supposed to be. In the meantime, I'll keep locking my car doors.

$2 Billion dollars!

The big news here in Southern California, which you've all heard by now, is that the Dodgers sold for $2.15 billion dollars!! That is an unfathomable amount of moola. Just to comprehend that amount of money, divide $2 billion by your yearly salary. I know everyone reading my blog lives a relatively comfortable life, but how many THOUSANDS of years would it take you to make that kind of cash? Even if you make great money, you're probably looking at a 5-figure answer. It's shocking! I'm an Angels fan, but I have nothing against the Dodgers. I'm glad that Magic Johnson is part of the new ownership team. If my Angels don't win, I don't really mind if the Dodgers do--I'm happy with someone representing Southern California. And yes, my Angels spent a boatload of money too, on just one player, who I can't wait to see on opening night, but that's the problem--way too much money is spent in professional sports! Nearly a billion people on earth don't have access to clean, safe water and 3.5 million die every year of water-related disease. One in seven people on this planet don't know where their next meal is coming from, and some of them are probably your neighbors. Close to 600,000 people died of cancer in 2011 in the Untied States alone, and AIDS took over 1.5 million souls worldwide. What could we do with $2 billion dollars? We could provide water to the thirsty, food to the hungry, shelter for the homeless. We could shore up infrastructure in order to prevent another Katrina, we could work harder to find and implement alternative souces of energy and save our environment. We could educate the masses, cure disease. Hell, we could save the world! Instead, $2 billion bought a baseball team. Our priorities might be a little off, but this is our world, our reality. And we all have the ability to balance it out. Get out there and work at a soup kitchen, volunteer for a beach clean-up, teach an illiterate adult to read. Get involved in your community, pay attention to what is going on in the world, and for God's sake, vote! Just do something! Two billion is a lot of money for baseball, and Opening Day is next week. Go Angels!

Westminster Dog Show

This time of year always makes me wish I had a dog. The 2012 Westminster Dog Show is in the history books. The Grand Champion was the Pekingese, Malachy. I do like him--he made me laugh. It is impossible to watch that hairy little thing slowly waddle around the ring without laughing. I almost felt sorry for him making the cut to Best in Show because he'd have to make a few extra laps around the ring for the judge. It's a lot of walking for those little legs--and he lagged way behind the German Shepherd, Doberman and Dalmation. My all-time favorites, the Chinese Crested and Irish Wolfhound, never win, but my record was a lot better this year. Eight of the dogs I liked made it to the finals of their groups, and one, the Doberman, won her group! I picked a winner! And she was my overall favorite this year--beautiful dog. But the best part is that her name was Fifi! I mean, who names a vicious Doberman Fifi? I love it! It is so classic! This year I also paid attention to breeds that I thought would be good for me. I really like the Whippet, Manchester Toy Terrier, Canaan Dog, German Pinscher, and Standard Manchester. They are all small-to-medium size with short hair, dogs I could take for a long walk or a short run, who don't shed too much. But I'd need to win the lottery so I could buy a house with a yard before I could think about getting a dog. I guess I can always dream--and wait for Westminster next year.

The Jukebox at the Bar

I miss old fashioned jukeboxes. You know the kind--you hit a button and flip the 'pages' with pictures of album covers. You could play track 4 on side B of the album you bought because you liked the number one hit you heard on the radio, but track 4, side B became your favorite song. Years pass and you forget about that song, but on a jukebox, you could always find it again. The new high-tech jukebox at my favorite Irish bar is digital. Sure, it's pretty, it's fancy, it's new,and it has thousands of songs, but you basically have to know the song or artist you want to play. You can't flip through, see something you'd forgotten about, and think 'Wow, I used to love that song! I'll play it now'. It's just not as much fun, and it's a dollar a song!! So much for nostalgia!

Online Dating

Are you into the online dating thing? I'm not. Did it once maybe 10-12 years ago and went on one date--never again. Not that it was some horrible experience, but the guy was so damn irritating that I'd prefer to take my chances meeting someone randomly. But, sometimes when I'm bored, I'll look at some of the free sites for a laugh. Found a perfect one, NOT! This guy absolutely takes the cake. On this site you have to answer questions by completing sentences. Obviously not an easy task for some people. The sentence starts "I have a weakness for girls who..." He writes "women with intelligent." WTF!!! I almost want to fork over the $25 so I could write him and ask "Women with intelligent what? Pets, kids, what?" Anyhow, I doubt many women with intelligence want to date a moron. And if you are a moron who wants to upgrade to a higher caliber date, at least enlist the help of a friend to proofread your profile so you don't look like an idiot. He must have done that, after the fact, because he changed his answer. It now reads "are honest and wear there heart on there sleeve just like me." Good Lord--he went from bad to worse! Basic English, people! Isn't it 3rd or 4th grade when you learn the difference between there, their, and they're? Maybe he skipped school that year. Thanks for the laughs, guy--and good luck with that dating thing!