"My life is ironic, yours is just funny"

This was a quote as I was ending my conversation with a former advisee/student of mine who I chatted with as I sat in the New Orleans airport waiting for my flight to Orlando to visit friends of mine who moved from San Francisco last year. Hers is ironic because I've been correctly predicting the events of her life for the past five years and mine is funny because upon arriving in Florida and watching the delay of the shuttle launch, I attended my first NASCAR race, the Pepsi 400 at the famed Daytona International Speedway.

The racetrack is called a "trioval"

The Vice-President was on hand

Members of pit row stand for the national anthem

Our seats were right before turn 1 where the cars exited pitrow

One of the things I learned quickly was that Dale Earnhardt Jr. is beloved and Jeff Gordon is loved by women and hated by men. I really didn't understand it until Jeff Gordon responded to his exit from the race by blaming the "out of control" driving of those racers around him, but taking none of the blame himself. Lame.

Jeff Gordon's #24 car coming to halt after trying to re-enter the race following a crash near with 10 laps left in the race.

I must confess that I had a great time. Just like I found with horseracing, I simply couldn't experience the speed, sound and smells of the race unless I witnessed it live. And Jeff Gordon sucks!

Save the NCCC

What is the NCCC? It stands for the National Civilian Community Corps and the budget planners of the Bush Administration are trying to cut funding for this program. It takes 18-24 year olds from across the country and for 10 months bases them at one of five different campuses across the country, trains them in crisis management and whatever other skills they need to go into any disaster situation and be of assistance.

Why am I such a huge proponent of this program at this time? Because I was so impressed with the quality of young men and women I met from this program in my week of work in New Orleans that I had to publically make a statement of support. Since the days after the flooding of Hurricane Katrina, NCCC have been on site in New Orleans doing hands-on relief work. Groups of 8-12 NCCC members from the different campuses have spent on average two months at the Hands On site serving as leaders for the groups being sent out to gut houses.

Gutting of houses took on three phases, of which I participated in only the first two over my weeklong stay. As you saw in pictures that I previously posted, it starts with removing all the debris from a house that a homeowner wants. Generally, it is everything, save for the occasional lighting fixture or to look out for some precious keepsake, but it's all moved out to the curbside. Currently, the federal government is still paying for debris removal in Orleans and St. Bernard Parishes. Debris removal consists of all major appliances and electrical items. I watched in complete awe and a pride as 19 year old young women of the NCCC enter homes and remove refrigerators (these are NOT to be opened under any circumstances) and hot water heaters without so much as a second thought. Debris removal was generally an all day affair for a team of six or seven, all while wearing the white Tyvek suits in which sweat became a veritable swimming pool inside by the end of the day.

The second phase was removing the sheetrock and the all parts of the house below the water line right down to the 2x4 studs. This again was an all day to two day affair for larger homes. Everything had to be removed and all the studs denailed in order for the third part of the gut to occur, mold remediation.

My experience in all this was one of a 36 year old who just got on site working with the NCCC members who have been here for weeks on end. They were all understanding of when I lost some zip after lunch and let me have longer breaks. But I was inspired by the quality of the work these NCCC members, and the numerous alumni of the NCCC who heeded the call to help, did on all these guts. And they did the work with good cheer, humor and a sense of purpose that the call to service wasn't because of the $4,700 they were to receive upon completing their 10-month service year, it was the fact that this current generation responds to the call of service as a part of their lives, it is ingrained in them and it isn't a burden. Service to others is simply another aspect of their busy fulfilling lives. These members of the NCCC embody that spirit and I urge all readers to write their Congressmen and Senators to save the NCCC and in turn continue to help the residents of the Gulf Coast reclaim their lives.

Scenes of Overwhelming Sadness

No energy to write or process, but here's a few pictures from the start of a "Gut".

2006 Summer Adventure #1

The obvious perk of being a teacher is having the summer months off to do whatever you want. I have resisted the easy way to occupy my summer months, teaching summer school. Usually, I am all about planning my summer months way in advance, most probably because what I’ve wanted to do was easily identified. As of April, I still had only one week accounted for; the rest being a list of possibilities. But about six weeks ago, everything fell into place and my summer plans came together. The first of my adventures of the summer has me in New Orleans doing a week of volunteer work with Hands On New Orleans. A big shout out goes to Hans W. for directing me toward this organization.

I arrived in New Orleans and had the good fortune to get into a cab driven by a Vietnamese immigrant named Lou. In the fifteen minute ride from the airport to the church in which the volunteers like myself will be staying, we struck up a conversation that led Lou to take me my own personal tour of the destruction of New Orleans. Over the course of our hour and a half together, I learned that Lou came to the United States in 1976 and landed in Oklahoma. At some point, he made it to New Orleans, living in the now famous Lower 9th Ward. At some point in the early 1990’s, he went back to Vietnam, got married and had two kids. At some point, he moved them to New Orleans and in time he bought a house in the suburb of Metarie. Lou, like most immigrants, loves the United States and has pretty negative opinions of the African-American population. He said that he through hard work and intelligence was able to buy a house in the suburbs therein lies a pretty sweeping implication. The most interesting, and ear-opening statement Lou made was his belief that the US Government’s post flood response was good, “really great” were the words I remember him using. I asked him to repeat what he said, and I got the same response.

Lou’s personal Katrina evacuation story goes as follows. The day before the hurricane hit, because he had his own car, he got on the freeway and went nowhere. Eight hours before the brunt of the storm, he drove to Baton Rouge. From there, he drove him and his family to Houston. After a week, he drove back to New Orleans and wasn’t allowed to come back so he went to San Diego to live with family members. After two months, he returned back to New Orleans at the beginning of December 2005. I asked why he came back. His response, “because it’s home.”

Coming into the city of New Orleans from the west, once you enter the city, you begin to see houses that are abandoned. There are lots of missing doors and windows and lots of piles in front of homes. It is quite easy to determine how the repopulation of New Orleans is going by simply looking for the white FEMA provided trailers that sit in the driveways and front lawns of homes that have had their owners/renters return. According to Lou, one has to provide proof of occupation and a FEMA trailer was yours. It’s hard to tell what percentage of the homes have trailers in front, but in the Western part of New Orleans, flood damaged, but not in the thoroughly devastating way as seen in pictures of the Lower 9th Ward, it’s about 50%.

Lou took me directly to the 9th Ward where the percentage of FEMA trailers is around 10%. The crossing over the Industrial canal, we entered the Lower 9th Ward, and saw total destruction.

You want to know how high the water level was during the flood? The blue house in this next photo gives a pretty clear idea that it was above the heads of the average person.

Moving east out of the Lower 9th, one crosses into St. Bernard Parish. It is a suburb but since it’s geographically contiguous with the Lower 9th, it too was flooded. In Lou’s words “you go 20 miles and it looks the same.” The sole difference here in St. Bernard Parish is the local officials mandated that FEMA trailers were not to be located on the property of the homeowner. Instead, the trailers are required to be placed together in specifically designated public areas.

A St. Bernard Parish Trailer Cluster/Park

An enterprising St. Bernard Parish government official decided to try and help the parish financially by declaring a part of the Parish “the” hurricane debris trash heap.

As we circled back towards central New Orleans, we got to glimpse the state of New Orleans East. According to Lou, a pair of racially different but economically successful groups inhabits this part of the city. One is upper middle class African-Americans. This group lives the American suburban dream, living in gated subdivisions full of McMansions.

The photo isn’t great and doesn’t show these huge homes that have no inhabitants or sign of life. Even though these homes look inhabitable, I get the sense from Lou’s ramblings that because of the lack of any services, it’s just too hard to try and live here.

The second group in this part of New Orleans is a community of some 70,000 Vietnamese immigrants. Lou thinks that a community of Vietnamese located themselves here because the bayou landscape looks a lot like their homeland. Lou said that a common story here is that many of the residents here got mortgages to buy homes. With that mortgage came the requirement to carry insurance, including flood insurance. Through hard work and thrift, many of these people paid off their mortgages early and didn’t continue carrying flood insurance. Their predicament now is the loss of their homes, but no money to start to rebuild.

I asked Lou whether or not his home was flooded. He said no. I then asked whether or not a higher income level meant you had a higher probability of not being inundated with floodwaters. I asked this because the high rent Garden District and French Quarters were not flooded (the damage in these areas were predominantly wind related). Again, his answer was no. He said it was all luck. The breaches in the levee occurred where they did and didn’t discriminate in whomever’s home it damaged. It’s just that the famous tourist areas and upper income areas were far from the breach. He told me that he was lucky. During times of heavy rains, his home floods as the water level rises, but that the flood from the levee breach occurred on the east side and he lives west of the city. He totally believed that luck played the biggest role in his still having a home.

What is going to be fascinating is to watch the rebirth of these communities. As a teacher of Economics, it truly will be watching an economy grow from scratch. For example, the Home Depot in New Orleans East just opened its doors again last month. We all can imagine what role that will play in getting people to be able to make the repairs to their homes to come back.

I saw so much in the hour and a half that Lou drove me around. I thank him for being willing to show me the devastation and to share with me his opinions. It’s his heartfelt belief that most of the people will return. It might be 5 years until even 50% of residents will return, but in the end, Lou thinks they will. Even for the African-Americans of the Lower 9th Ward, who have the biggest hurdles to overcome. They too will return, Lou said, because the displaced residents are living on the land of their ancestors, freed slaves.

Hell hath no fury like a pissed off family of Mice

Ok, I'm loathe to admit, but for the past month, what I originally thought was A mouse but has turned into a gaggle of mice has put down roots and settled into some place behind my dishwasher and kitchen sink. At first, the mouse/mice were respectful of my kitchen needs and only scurried around in the dark. I have to say that more than once I have turned on the light and caused the little creatures to scurry into that little gap between my little pantry and the dishwasher.

But of late, they have been MUCH more brazen. It's as if they decided to see what boundaries they could push and have promptly done so. I went so far as to go to the hardware store and peruse the mice entrapment/killing devices and settled on, at first, these three plug-in things that emit a high-pitched (we humans can't hear them) that apparently drive the mice insane. At first, I could discern a distinct decrease in scattering of little feet and I was hopeful that my fortunes had taken a positive turn. But immunity to the sound emerged and the little ones were back in greater force and brazenness.

So, in talking to my Mom the other day, she reveals to me that the favorite food of mice is rice. UH OH. Guess who has two large bags of rice sitting on the second shelf of his pantry? I first succumb to two or three days of denial and let the situation remain as it was. Until last night. I came into the kitchen and was doing my dishes and then heard the pitter patter of little feet running down the pantry door into the little gap. Enough!!

So I went to the pantry and sure enough, it had been rice buffet for the mice for who knows how long. Just like the vermin that they are, they also used my pantry as their restroom. I took their bottomless treasure trove of rice, tossed it into the trash and then cleaned things up. I then, in a moment of pure spite, tossed a layer of Comet cleaning powder all around the places they would run and where the rice was.

As I hunkered down in an adjacent room, I heard the pitter patter of feet again and probably because I was trying to hear them, it sounded like they were stomping. After a couple hours, I went to the kitchen and on the ground was scattered at least three or four pieces of insulation that the mice must have left as a message for me. So, this morning, I finally set out the traps with peanut butter and declared all out WAR!!!

38% Dixie. You are definitely a Yankee.

A productive day on this front. Made progress on the flower boxes I am making. Swept and mopped my floors. Got my finances in order. And took the test to find out if I am Yankee or a Rebel. I'll post pictures of the flower boxes when they are finished and planted with flowers. If all goes well, by the end of the week.

A tenuous connection with the outside world

I answered the phone as I was driving home from a colleagues birthday picnic. I see the wireless headset plugged into its charger, but where is my phone? Usually, it'll take me no more than 3 minutes to find it, on those rare occasions I do place it down and not conciously remember where I put it. However, this time, it's been three hours and I still can't find it. It's not in the car and it's not in the washer and dryer (that being my ultimate fear as I washed the shorts I was wearing). So where did it go? I have no way to call anyone to tell someone to call my phone so it will ring and I can locate it. So, if you read this anytime in the next day or so, call my home/only number and help me out.

____________

Thanks to those who aided in the search for my phone. I got my neighbor to call my phone and after three attempts, I found it at the foot of and next to the washer in the garage. There it was. And I was this close to going out and spending $$ to buy a new phone. How pissed would I have been?

Summertime in San Francisco

"The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco" I'm not sure who said that quote (I want to say Mark Twain) but it is OH SO TRUE. Except for these past few days where the weather has been perfect. In the afternoon, I again tackled a set of stairways, this time in the Corona Heights/Upper Market neighborhood. The chronology of the walk started me in the saddle up at the top of 17th St where it meets Clayton. First to Upper Terrace and then down to the Vulcan Stairway and then up Saturn Staircase, up 17th and up to Clayton again. It was a short, sweet, yet rewarding walk.

Stairs to Upper Terrace

The view from Upper Terrace

I've either loved or hated brown shingled houses and the juxtaposition of these two houses answers the question why. It's all about the trim, baby.

Throughout San Francisco, there are numerous long stairways lined with residential homes. These homes are can ONLY be accessed via the staircase. When tree-lined and well maintained as the Vulcan Staircase is, it can create a quiet paradise in the heart of the bustling urban environment. It's the best of both worlds. I think I covet one of these home.

A Vulcan Stairway home

Most of the homes on Vulcan line the North side, however, here is one of the three that are on the South side.

Here's what homeowners and architects have to deal with in their work.

Oh, and today, I went in for jury duty and after an hour, there were no cases to be tried and our group was excused and given credit for showing up this afternoon. Actually, kind of a anti-climactic ending to this civic duty in comparison to the drama of a few months ago.

The Never Ending Saga of J.D.

I can't even bear to write out the words. I asked that my service be sometime this week starting on Monday June 12th, 2006. As it works in many places your service can start anytime during the week. I called in every night and was told to call in the next day after 4:30PM. As of Thursday June 15th, 2006 I had not yet been called. So, this afternoon, I called in and my service will begin on Friday June 16th, 2006 at 1:30PM. Are they freaking kidding? They are going to try and start seating a case on a Friday afternoon? I am SO going to do my best to get excused. Watch this trial be something that might last two months. UGH!!

Summer Begins

The wonderful months of summer adventure began with a visit from a friend of mine Rochelle R. She's one of those friends who you meet in the living of life and end up sticking. We went to dinner at Little Nepal in the neighboorhood. We had a wonderful post dinner hike to the top of Bernal Heights and then I made sure to show her the Esmeralda Street slide on our way home.

She left this morning on the bus to another friends place and I decided to ride part of the way with her to get to another one of the stairway walks that I've been doing. The following are a series of pictures of interesting things I saw with occasional commentary. This walk took me through the northern part of Noe Valley and eastern part of Eureka Valley.

Dixie Stairway linking Market Street to Grandview Avenue

This house reminded me of a castle with a crown on top

These uneven dirt steps lead to.....

Kite Hill Open Space

This end of the street house is tucked right next to and under the Market Street Foundation

Someone has a planter fetish

Local neighbors have taken a city owned vacant lot and turned it into a community garden and playground. Results such as Corwin Gardens, shown here, is typical of the the power of communities that work together.

Along that big curve where Market turns into Portola sits the huge Joost house. Joost (yes the same one as the steet) was the man who built the first electircal railroad from downtown to what is now Daly City.

Noe Valley Victorians

An alley between Caselli and 19th Street

I end the photos section with this alley because it follows the tenets of New Urbanismwhich avoids putting garages on the front of the house.

Last comment. As Rochelle and I were walking around last, we were looking at individual buildings, some beautiful and well maintained and others being 70's boxes that were dilapidated. However, when looked at as a mosaic, it all becomes beautiful.

Where's the Beef?

Remember that famous line from the 80's Wendy's commercial? Takes us all back, eh? Anyway, this has nothing to do with Wendy's, but more to do with grassfed organic meat. Lots of it. A while back, I got an email from family friend Lynn asking if anyone was interested in going in on some grassfed organically raised (hmm, I'm not sure if this means that the grass that was fed was organically raised or if the fact that the animal was grassfed makes it organically raised), regardless, some high quality meat. She has contacts in that world and every year about this time a herd of steer (cow? I have no idea) is slaughtered, and the meat is pre-sold to those who are interested in this kind of meat. From what I can gather, one animal produces some 160-200 pounds of meat, which Lynn sold in 20lb units. I'm a sucker for good meat and am just interested in seeing if there is a distinct taste difference, so I ponied up my cash and purchased 20 lb of meat.

Here's what 20lb of frozen meat looks like

After yesterday's class of 2006 graduation (where I was simply there for show and had little investment in this class because I had taught only 7 of 77 because when they were freshman I was recovering from my accident), I went to Lynn's to pick up my meat. My haul brought it 1 London Broil, 2 Sirloin Steak, 1 Sirloin Tritip and 9 pounds of Ground Beef.

So any of you who come over will probably hear the refrain, "Want some meat?"

Mentos and Diet Coke

I don't mean for the blog to become a place for me to provide publicity for funky/funny videos, but it appears that this is the trend for the moment. One simply must watch this video clip where two guys in Maine create a performance piece using Mentos and Diet Coke. It is a sight to behold. You can hear an interview with the two "artists" on an NPR All Things Considered segment.

On the personal front, I've finished grading my finals and have just posted grades. All I have left is Saturday graduation and a Monday faculty meeting, which might be trumped by.....JURY DUTY!!

Consider this your 2006 forwarded email that I implore you to look at

For those of you who are a bit behind the technology curve, there is this new website called YouTube which allows anyone to upload video clips that they have/make and broadcast to any other person who wants to watch. As you an imagine, there is a great deal of crap and a lot of stuff that reverts to a teenage boys level of humor. However, every once in a while, something great is created and I hope that you'll take a second to go over to YouTube and view it. In the search field type in "Bernanke" and the first clip that comes up is the one you want to watch. If you are not so motivated, I'll make it even easier, you can watch it off of the SF Chronicles Technology Chronicles Blog.

It's even funnier now that I know that CBS stands for Columbia Business School, that main singer is the Dean of Columbia Business School, Glenn Hubbard. It was Hubbard that Bernanke "beat" for the appointment by President Bush.

And for those students of mine who are reading this, I hope that you understood what the songs lyrics meant.

A Proposition Party

No, not that kind. Next Tuesday June 6th, 2006 the California State Primary Election is to be held. As a permanent absentee voter (there is NO reason now NOT to vote since you can have the ballot mailed to you every single time and election is held and you can vote in your underwear), I am in possession of a Democratic Party ballot. I want it on the record that I am a registered Independent that chooses to vote in the Democratic Party's primary.

A couple weeks ago, I met a guy who lives a couple blocks from me at one of the game nights that have become a regular tradition at casa Chen. He told me about this get together he and his friends and housemates have before each election where each person is asked to research a proposition or set of candidates for an office and then present to the people attending the party.

So, tonight was the night. There were 14 of us and I knew only the guy who invited me but I was SO impressed with the quality of discussion. I mean this was the political process at it's best. I came in with my mind made up on a couple issues and/or candidates and clueless on others. What was clear is that the presentations and discussions fleshed out the true intent of the propositions and I was swayed back and forth a couple of times before a straw poll was held.

Surprisingly, the votes were more than 50% of the time split 50/50 with the other half generally being unanimous votes by a group of 14 San Francisco liberals. However, it was the propositions that asked us voters to approve bonds for various programs/construction that split our group down the middle.

It was truly democracy in action.

The Rise and Arrival of the Asian-American Male

The year-end Awards Assembly is always a time to celebrate the accomplishments of those students (mostly seniors) who represent and embody those characteristics that a school community holds forth as the best of youth and humanity. These are the students who our community is proud to send out into the world. There is always such a positive feeling in the theater and it always gives me chills. It also is one of those moments that confirms for me that I've been lucky to have moments like these in my job.

However, I noticed something today that is beyond coincidence. The surnames of the boys who earned the highest awards were Chen, Tran, Dang-Vu, Mar and Lalchandani. That's four boys of East-Asian descent and one of Indian-Asian descent. It indicates to me that Asian-American males have found a way to overcome the math-science geek pigeonhole and be leaders in their class and in our school community. I remember that when I was in high school in the 80's I never saw other Asian-American males as leaders, we were all just studying hard and not making waves. I never thought that I had something to contribute so I just stayed along the margins. But I say a hearty congratulations to these five young men. I never taught any of them but I've watched them be class presidents and club leaders and successful in sports. They have obviously found a formula that works and their legacy will be a model for younger Asian-American males. I wish these guys had been around when I was in high school.

Test your knowledge

Here is a link to Seattle Pop Quiz

I scored 25/32

Visitors and The Conservatory of Flowers

I received a voicemail yesterday from a friend of mine from a summer program I attended in 1986. She is always so good about making time to catch up when she is out here and for that she is to be commended. Deborah G.,her husband and 14 month old son were out for a visit to her brother. We agreed to meet his afternoon at the Conservatory of Flowers, located in Golden Gate Park.

I'm not a big plants fan, but I did find reading the history of the building to be fascinating. Fires, earthquakes and lack of funds had allowed the Conservatory to be placed on the World Momuments Fund as 100 structures that were in danger of being lost. In 2003, the renovated Conservatory reopened as seen in the picture above.

The special exhibit for Spring and Summer is one on Butterfly's. I've taken some pictures of butterflies for you to see for yourself

Here are some pictures of all of us on a glorious Saturday afternoon in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park.

Baby Micah taking his first few steps with Dad Ian

Deboran and Ernie, boy was 1986 a long time ago!

Calling all Yuppies

This weekend, Restoration Hardware held a warehouse sale down at the Cow Palace.

You've got to wonder about a pavilion with the name Cow Palace, so if you're willing to take a gander at the official Cow Palace website you'll understand the genesis of its name. The Cow Palace was the site of both the 1956 and 1964 Republican National Conventions where, repsectively, Eisenhower and Goldwater were nominated to run for president. As we know the former won and the latter lost.

So back the warehouse sale. It was row upon row of furniture, upholstery and other goods from the store.

Scene from the Restoration Hardware Warehouse sale held at the Cow Palace

I had visions of buying an end table for the corner of my bedrooom. I even went so far as to measure the dimensions of the space I wanted to fill. The deals were great, lots of things were 50% off. However, with starting prices in the stratosphere, 50% off still was more than I was willing to pay. As we Economists say, I was unwilling to forgo future opportunity to have the thing immediately in front of me.

A great mail day

In this day of the Internet and instantaneous service, the trip to the mailbox to see what came in the mail via the US Postal Service has become an exercise in junk mail futility. Then comes a day like today where it was a treasure trove of goodies. It's what makes the mail, the mail. I got the four pieces of ubiqitous junk mail which went directly into recycling but I also got my Sports Illustrated (which you all know I love and are some of the best 2 hours of every week when I read it cover to cover, ok so I don't read the hockey articles), my mortgage bill, the new stickers for my car from the DMV, my absentee ballot for the June California primary, my jury summons (we all know that story) and a letter from my dear friend Jennifer C.. What a day for the mail!!

Back to the Future, but not so much

The logicboard on the beloved G4 iBook that the school lent me died. In the post-mortem analysis that I had with the guys in the tech office gave the most probable cause for the breakdown was the bending that occurred when I would carry the laptop with one hand when the computer was in the open position. But this is only one possible cause. So after all this, the best the school could offer to loan me was the following:

One Orange G3 Clamshell ibook

I am grateful to have any computer at all. This "new" laptop has runs OSX and has all the basic features I need. Alas, it doesn't have a CD insert and only one USB port, but hell, the school was willing to lend me a computer considering I, in the past three years, have killed an iMac by trying to load OSX onto an iMac that wasn't able to handle it, had one stolen and then twice nearly killed the now dead laptop. Thank you HRS Tech Office.

Computer Malfunction Redux

It was only a matter of time. Things were simply going to well. There were no hiccups, no glitches, not even a glimmer or clue that the cliff was coming and that I would walk right over it. Metaphorically speaking, the cliff scenario is what it felt like that day during one of my days of jury selection, when I pulled my iBook out of my bookbag, took it out of its neoprene case, flipped open the top and after a couple minutes, the screen went blank and then began to cycle through the primary colors infinitely.

For six whole entire months, I did not make a pitstop into the tech office. I would see the guys in the hall and they would ask how things were and I could proudly proclaim that I was taking all the precautions and putting the computer into sleep mode when I was attaching a device through the USB port. I was doing my very best not to treat the computer as a bag of bricks and to treat it gently (I know you're chuckling as "gently" kind of isn't in my vocabulary let alone a way to operate in the world). But when I brought my iBook in after Spring Break, the howls of laughter and the jeering I got from the guys in the tech office were deafening. I am proud to claim that I lost NOTHING because I have been religious about transferring all work from the iBook on to the school's server. And I was able to boot the computer up to get to the point where I could email key documents to myself and thereby save them. BOOYAH!!

But, alas, I am again without a computer and feeling a bit lost in the world. I have been so wary of even stepping into the tech office that I only checked in yesterday and heard that they hadn't yet heard anything from their repair people. I'm praying it's something relatively inexpensive and simple, but it's looking like something major has friend inside. Damn.

I have to point you all towards a couple of causes I had forwarded to me. The first is a malaria prevention campaign that you can read in Sports Illustrated. The column is by Rick Reilly and there is a link off the article to the UN program that is running the campaign.

The second is one that sounds interesting as a way to battle high gas prices.
GAS WAR - an idea that WILL work




This was originally sent by a retired Coca Cola executive. It came from one of his engineer buddies who retired from Halliburton. It ' s worth your consideration.
Join the resistance!!!! I hear we are going to hit close to $4.00 a
gallon by next summer and it might go higher!! Want gasoline prices
to come down? We need to take some intelligent, united action.
Phillip Hollsworth offered this good idea.

This makes MUCH MORE SENSE than the "don't buy gas on a certain
day" campaign that was going around last April or May! The oil
companies just laughed at that because they knew we wouldn't continue
to "hurt" ourselves by refusing to buy gas. It was more of an
inconvenience to us than it was a problem for them.

BUT, whoever thought of this idea, has come up with a plan that can
really work. Please read on and join with us! By now you're probably
thinking gasoline priced at about $1.50 is super cheap. Me too! It
is currently $2.79 for regular unleaded in my town. Now that the oil
companies and the OPEC nations have conditioned us to think that the
cost of a gallon of gas is CHEAP at $1.50 - $1.75, we need to take
aggressive action to teach them that BUYERS control the
marketplace..... not sellers. With the price of gasoline going up
more each day, we consumers need to take action. The only way we are
going to see the price of gas come down is if we hit someone in the
pocketbook by not purchasing their gas! And, we can do that WITHOUT
hurting ourselves. How? Since we all rely on our cars, we can't just
stop buying gas. But we CAN have an impact on gas prices if we all
act together to force a price war.

Here's the idea:
For the rest of this year, DON'T purchase ANY gasoline from the two
biggest companies (which now are one), EXXON and MOBIL. If they are
not selling any gas, they will be inclined to reduce their prices. If
they reduce their prices, the other companies will have to follow
suit.

But to have an impact, we need to reach literally millions of Exxon
and Mobil gas buyers. It's really simple to do! Now, don't wimp out
at this point.... keep reading and I'll explain how simple it is to
reach millions of people.

I am sending this note to 30 people. If each of us sends it to at
least ten more (30 x 10 =3D 300) ... and those 300 send it to at
least ten more (300 x 10 =3D 3,000)...and so on, by the time the
message reaches the sixth group of people, we will have reached over
THREE MILLION consumers. If those three million get excited and pass
this on to ten friends each, then 30 million people will have been
contacted! If it goes one level further, you guessed it..... THREE
HUNDRED MILLION >>>>PEOPLE!!!

Again, all you have to do is send this to 10 people. That's all.
(If you don't understand how we can reach 300 million and all you
have to do is send this to 10 people.... Well, let's face it, you
just aren't a mathematician. But I am, so trust me on this one.)

How long would all that take? If each of us sends this e-mail out
to ten more people within one day of receipt, all 300 MILLION people
could conceivably be contacted within the next 8 days!!!

I'll bet you didn't think you and I had that much potential, did
you?

Acting together we can make a difference. If this makes sense to
you, please pass this message on. I suggest that we not buy from
EXXON/MOBIL UNTIL THEY LOWER THEIR PRICES TO THE $1.30 RANGE AND KEEP
THEM DOWN.

THIS CAN REALLY WORK.

I think I might actually try this. Ok, who knows when I'll post next. But when I get my computer (or a computer) back, I'll be back in the saddle.

"Why did I attend this conference?" is why I attended

Once a week, the HRS Headmaster sends out a Headmaster's Letter that we all receive by email. In it, we find out who's decided to leave the school and who will take their place. There are always announcements for different workshops and conferences included. I usually give a cursory glance to the latter but just before Spring Break, there was an announcement for the 2nd annual Asian Educators Alliance to be held April 21-22nd at Lick-Wilmerding High School. In the past, I would have dismissed the thought of even attending. But for some reason, I was drawn to the idea of attending and so with the aid of the Math Department Conference Budget, I sent in my registration form and fee.

The critical question that kept rearing its head in my mind was why I was so resistant to the idea of attending something like this? The former reaction was not one of simply ignoring the conference's existence, but I would have turned my back on it. My conjecture as to why I slammed the door on even addressing my being Asian in the teaching profession within the Independent School world was twofold. First, I used to (and perhaps still to a degree do) associate affintity groups as a place where those students who belong to that group weren't able to assimilate to the culture of the school. Secondly, because I never really felt as if I were left out (little did I know that I totally was clueless as to an entire life of my class that I wasn't privy too) or treated unfairly or even misunderstood, that I therefore had no need to attend anything that identified purely by affinity group.

So there I was at 5:00PM on a Friday afternoon sitting in my small group or 15 Asian educators sharing our answers to the two questions, A) When did you decide to be a teacher? and B) How was it when you told your parents? As I sat there and listened to the answers of other people, I began to ask myself, "what is my role as an Asian teacher in that do I have some inherent responsibilities?", "am I automatically supposed to teach the Asian experience or perhaps my experience? Lastly, I wondered "what does HRS want to get back from having a teacher with my face on their campus? If I am able to start answering these questions, or at least know how to study and address them, before the conference ended, I would be truly excited.

On Saturday morning, we started in the same small group of 15 and we were sharing our feelings on "how we identify with the term Asian-American educators?" As I listened to the others answer, I came to the realization that my answer to the question at hand, might answer one of the big three questions I posed myself at the end of Friday. My answer was that I could use my Asian-American heritage to help all students who live in the dual worlds of school and home. I find that I am able to help students navigate through certain situations in which what the school said contradict one another. In addition, I'm not sure that when the school hired me that they overtly were presenting to the Asian (and other non-white minority) students the idea that they too could grow up and choose teaching as a profession. On a more global level, students can be whatever they choose to be. As I reminisce about my high school years at Lakeside, I had all Caucasian teachers for my five major courses for each and every one of the four years I spent in high school. I didn't think that teaching was even an option for someone like me.

Looking around my small group, I was struck by the ratio of female to male was about 5:1 or 6:1. Then looking across the entire group later on, there just aren't many Asian men choosing teaching as a profession. Why?

For the first workshop, I chose one entitled "Asians Are Elemental! Moving beyond tokenism in our schools". What we wanted to understand is that to make Asian issues and stories a true part of a curriculum by integreting it into the main curriculum and not just a supplemental add on at the end. Our presenters were humanities teachers who had found ways to bring this multicultural knowledge. For History teachers, class doesn't need to ordered chronologically, but with themes or patterns that will give students a context for what they are studying. The English teacher also has designed her courses on on themes.

The keynote speaker of this conference was Gus Lee He told great stories but admonished us teachers to 1) Honor All Persons 2) Seek Social Justice 3) Demonstrate Courage under Great Present.

A voicemail from my sister

"I just had to call to tell you that George Bush is helping me get $390 back. I'm very upset about it. I felt like I should do something with it but of course it's $390 so what am I going to do with it? Alright, anyhow I get money because he lowered the capital gains tax and that's why I'm getting money back. Otherwise, I'd have to pay money. BUT IT JUST DOESN'T FEEL VERY GOOD (caps relaying the emphasis in her voice). Just had to tell you."

--Marlene C (4/16/06)

I've just inadvertantly both pissed off a judge and found out a foolproof way to avoid jury duty

Last time we met, I was in the midst of jury duty selection. Remember that I had already rescheduled jury duty from sometime in February to my Spring Break. I wasn't called until Wednesday of that week and was informed that I was going to be a potential juror in a six week trial. From my experience two years ago where I was almost a juror for a seven asbestos trial, it was at that time the judge in the case who made it a blanket policy that teachers would have to serve regardless of their situation. Seeing as that I am serving in a San Francisco court and I teach at a private school in Alameda County, I concluded that my "hardship" request would have no sway with any judge. Thinking that I was going to have to go through the process of jury selection because of my belief that I either couldn't be excused nor reschedule a second time, I played the odds that in a group of about 100, there was a small probability that I would end up one of the 15 jurors or alternate jurors.

So I made the blog posting a couple posts back. Go back and read it to familiarize yourself with exactly what I wrote. You don't really learn much about the case, right? So on Monday after the lunch recess, the District Attorney and the defendents lawyers use their preemptory bumps to excuse certain jurors and a jury of 12 is seated, with the people in seats 24, 25 and 26 moving into the 1st, 2nd and 3rd alternate jurors seats, those being 13, 14 and 15. The clerk called names to fill up seats 16 through 26 and I was called to sit in seat 24.

Questioning occurred and it was going at a nice rapid clip. The judge adjourned for break and asked four of us jurors to remain behind. I was one of the four. I am called into the judges chambers and am immediately asked if I had made a posting about the case on a blog. My head is spinning. I had no idea this was going to be the topic. I had no recollection of what I wrote but I did know that I had revealed no details of the case. He then asked me why I wrote about it. After a couple moments, I remembered that I wrote about how pissed I was that I had to come back on Monday. At this point, it was basically mayhem between the judge and I. My quibble (if at this point one can say it was a quibble) was that I felt as if I was working without any information. He nailed me on the fact that I was playing the odds of not being seated. And this made him incensed. He lectured me like a little kid. I just sat there and took it because I end up getting what I wanted, which was off this trial and to serve jury duty at a different time, most likely June. The judge made it a point to not excuse me from service but I had to defer my service and come in again to fulfill this years obligation. At that point, I got up and walked into the courtroom and in front of the entire room, walked right out the door.

So, my mistake in all of this is that I didn't realize that on the first Wednesday I was called in that I was allowed a second postponement or to apply for a hardship excuse or deferral. Had I known this, I would have avoided this all together and not had to sit through two days of court.

BUT, now that we know that the lawyers are out there on the internet searching for us in the cyberworld, here's a pretty easy way to get yourself disqualified.

I want to now write about the substance of the trial, but I'm not sure if I can. Once bitten, twice shy they say. So, judge and lawyers, if you're reading this, you win. You have scared the bejesus out of me and I'm keeping my mouth shut.

Read this book!!

The silver lining in this endless jury selection process is an opportunity to read. The icing on the cake was that the book, recommended to me by one Peilin C., was one of those that I couldn't put down.

The book is a look Ed Rendell's first term as the mayor of Philadelphia. But more importantly the book is about the place the large urban cities have in our society today. Are they valuable? Are they worth the investment? The best books leave us with more questions that they answer.

Spring has arrived

OK Next time there won’t be Mr. Nice Guy

Back in February, I received my summons for jury duty service for the criminal division of the San Francisco Superior Court. Two years ago, also in February, my summons was for the civil division of the Court. Each time, I asked to reschedule my service to the week of my Spring Break.

Two years ago, I was nearly selected to be the second alternate in a seven-week asbestos trial. Avoided that one by the skin of my teeth because I was the third to last person in the jury pool and who knows what might have happened had they needed more people. The selection process lasted all of two days.

This time, I wasn’t called in on Monday or Tuesday, but my scheduled appearance time was 1PM on Wednesday. This first court appearance was logistical. Who qualified for hardship dismissals and filling out a small questionnaire. I was there for an hour.

Thursday’s adjournment was at 1030AM. The judge is a very nice grandfatherly looking man. He spent some time explaining the process and then stated what the charges were against the defendants. I am not at liberty to say what the case is yet, but let’s just say that everyone will be doing their best to NOT get on this jury. It’s planned for five weeks.

Usually, the district attorney questions the 26 jurors in the hot seats and then the defendant’s lawyer does the same thing. This is a tedious and time-consuming process. In this case, there are two defendants and each has their own attorney, so we must listen to questions three times instead of two. We had a full day of questioning jurors on Thursday. We adjourned on Friday again at 1030AM but were let out for the afternoon at 1230PM. We were told to return on Monday at 10AM. At this point, I went to the court clerk and asked whether or not I would be able to reschedule my service until June, when school was out. She said that it wasn’t possible. I asked what would happen if I simply didn’t show. The clerk said that the judge could issue a warrant. So, I told her that I would be there on Monday, but I wouldn’t be happy about it.
What are some of my observations? Well, the theme of personal responsibility kept coming up in questioning. I’m glad that they are visiting a topic that I harp on constantly in my job. I also notice that there is a preponderance of single people. Yes, a great many single people may inhabit SF but the proportions can’t be this out of whack. Where are all the married Caucasians?

Lastly, I learned that there is a different burden of proof between civil and criminal. In civil, the burden is a preponderance of evidence, but in criminal the burden is beyond a reasonable doubt. Interesting.

Under different circumstances, this would be called a “Perfect Storm”

This story as so many different strands that come together at the same place at around the time. I am apprehensive about having missed something so as per usual, I’ll set the story with a list of characters and or a mosaic of other things. Of course they’ll be listed in as close to chronological as I can possibly remember.

About a year ago, I purchased a set of Klaus Teuber games at the HRS annual auction. The game I was after in particular was called Settlers of Catan. Subsequently, I began hosting games nights pretty regularly for friends, some of them my HRS colleagues.

The Alumni Director, being that it is her job to know what’s happening in the alumni world, catches wind of the fact that some faculty is playing Catan. She promptly tells a 1993 graduate of HRS about the game being played at school. Why would this 1993 alumna (I would mention her name but I can’t remember it) care? This alumna is married to none other than Klaus Teuber’s son Guido, who is heading the small Teuber office in the US.

The 1993 alumna’s younger brother, Nick J (not the Nick J that I advised for those of you in the know enough to ask that question) graduated from HRS in 2001. In college he earned a degree in marketing. During the years in college, he worked in bits and chunks for his future brother-in-law at the Teuber office. Upon graduation, he secured a job at the Teuber office trying to develop new markets of for the game.

Nick J. and I must have had the same epiphany around the same time but totally independent of each other. The genesis of my use of Catan lay when my Economics students didn’t truly understand the concept of an Economy. The way the game is constructed and some of the dynamics that occur in a typical 2-hour game mirrors quite closely the struggle that the poorer countries of the world face in trying to move up from the third world.

I seized the moment and asked my students to come in on an evening to play the game. In compensation, they got a class period off later in the week. Nick came by and we talked shop and about how Catan might be able to open an Economics market. He came to see how I would run the game and how I would relate it to Economic topics.

The students loved the game, a true testament to the high quality fun and challenge that Settlers of Catan possesses. I’ve emailed my students some of the things I wanted them to think about and be ready to discuss in class on Monday, but you’ll find out next why I can’t be there.

There is a bonus for the HRS Math Department and that is our Department will be the recipient of a set or two of the Catan series of games. Also, Nick stated that he and his boss (Teuber’s son) are always looking for game testers. How cool is that? And more interestingly, how crazy is the path of this story. No way one could have predicted something like this.

My oven mitts now have some homemade hangers

This is one of the many little changes that I am left with after my Mother visits every year. I've had to work really hard at not interpreting my Mom's cleaning of my kitchen the moment she arrives as a implicit disapproval of the cleanliness of my home. It's hard to not hear some hidden meaning in each and every statement and question. I can't say that I was perfect, but at least I'm cognizant of the fact that this is in fact MY ISSUE and my issue alone. Unfortuately, you know how a person can be so unattractive when they aren't completely nice to their mothers? Uhhhh, I was guilty of it at some points during her three day visit.

One thing that Mom did do, purely coincidental, was bring the sun with her. We've been having rain everyday for nearly a month, and she arrived on one of the first sunny days all Spring and the rain has been minimial since. We toured the new deYoung Museum in Golden Gate Park.

Mom posing in front of the deYoung Museum tower. (Dad, I know the composition of this photo leaves a lot to be desired. Guilty)

Since Mom and I were honest about the fact that neither of us was particularly interested in the art and artifacts in the museum itself, we just toured the grounds outside and went up to the top of the tower, all of which was free. Now the tower is the signature component of the deYoung.

At its base, it is a rectangle (an equiangular quadrilateral for those of you who are geometric terminology purists) that is aligned along the axis of museum complex and quadrangle within Golden Gate Park. It twists and at the top, it is in the shape of a parallelogram (a quadrilateral with two sets of congruent and parallel sides) that is aligned along the axis of the North-South streets of the Richmond and Sunset Districts outside the park. The view from the tower is simply gorgeous and shouldn't be missed.

As we walked around the grounds, my mother commented on the fact that every Spring when she comes to SF, she sees the trees pictured below that are all nobby but with one sprout coming out of the end. Anyone who knows what the name of these trees are and what the deal with them is, please email me.

What's the name of these tree's and what's up with the single shoot coming out of the ends?

After we left the park, I took Mom on a stairway walk through the Forest Hill section of San Francisco. It's one of the first neighboorhoods west of Twin Peaks to have been developed because it's right next to the Forest Hill Municipal Railway Station, which is what brought mass transit to the western portion of San Francisco. The houses are all large and have yards. The Pacheco stairway is one of the most elegant stairways in all of San Francisco.

The rest of the weekend was calm except for those times when I had to inform/educate Mom that when I told her that I was thinking about trying something new that if she reacted by laughing at the thought, that it was only going to have me not tell her things. Also, that if I asked to not talk about something, it didn't mean that she could continue to ask about it. We got real and it was hard at times, but what I learned is that the issue I have about asking for what I want is also something that I find my Mom also has. Well, she knows what she wants, it's just that she goes about it (perhaps learned as a way to get stuff from my Dad?) in a not very direct way. Perhaps more analysis and thought needed here.

Lastly, because of Mom, I'm now hooked on Sudoku puzzles. I even went onto my Geometer's Sketchpad program and created blank grids for the two of us.