My Nickname was "-2"

The original crux of this East Coast trip was to attend the Cornell Adult University (CAU). I was interested, and partcipated in, a weeklong seminar on the history of the US Senate. Even though my undergraduate major was Geological Sciences (and Economics but the department handed me a degree with me really knowing essentially nothing) I've recently have wondered if I got the wrong major starting with the letter G. If I were to go back to college now, I would more than likely major in Government. The added bonus was that the course was taught by two highly regarded professors who's names were always mentioned in reverent tones. The two professors claimed that teaching in the CAU was a highly sought after gig and one of them boasted that he had started teaching CAU courses in 1968 at which I promptly, and smugly blurt out, "I was -2" and thus I was called by that name.

We had lectures on:
1) The Historical Constructs of the US Senate
2) The Great Compromise of 1850
3) The Impeachment of Andrew Johnson
4) Woodrow Wilson and the Treaty of Versailles
5) Joseph McCarthy
6) The Civil Rights Bill of 1957
7) The Filibuster
8) Watched the movie "Advise and Consent"
9) The confirmation of Clarence Thomas
10) The Impeachment of Bill Clinton

We always had two hour long lectures in the morning followed by an afternoon discussion of the mornings lectures and the current political scene. I found it a totally different educational experience to actually be interested in class enough to listen and not need to take notes because I was absorbing what I was hearing out of sheer intellectual interest.

Outside of class, it was wonderful to be back in Ithaca. If I knew how well alumni were treated, I would have been more active alumni activities earlier!! During the week, I went swimming in one of the famous gorges that border the Cornell campus, ate at the Moosewood restaurant, visited for an afternoon and evening with friends Michelle P and Mike B and their very happy son, Raymond and played a round of golf at the Cornell golf course.

However, on the day before I left, I was in the dining hall grabbing a piece of French Bread before I headed out and I ran into a student that I taught at HRS and was working as an RA this summer. Sam W is in between her sophomore and junior years at Cornell and we spent Friday evening walking around campus and had dinner.

Sam W and I after dinner. I must note that the man who took the picture asked if we were a couple. I don't look that young, people.

In front of the building I lived in my junior year. Nothing has changed.

This last photo needs some explanation. In college, friends of mine would reserve the Lynah Ice Rink for an hour every once in a while, usually at 1AM, and we would get together and play hockey. Well, I tried playing hockey. It was just a blast to get out there on the ice. We took this picture (my friend Jeff O and I have no clue what Omega Beta Kappa was supposed to stand for), framed it and nailed it to the wall of the Chapter House Bar on Stewart Street right off campus. We did this in 1992 and the picture is still on the wall, as seen below.

It's pretty easy to see how young I looked. Jeff is kneeling and is located second from the right in his row.

Who says you can't go "home" again??

A Former Life

For those of you who have always wondered what my life was back in New Jersey when I taught at a boarding school, well, here you are. The first part of my journey took me back to the place where I felt as though I came of age as an adult. My three years there were truly a baptism by fire, but I am the better because of it. I thoroughly loved my three years at Lawrenceville and remember it in my heart with great fondness. Here's what it looks like:

The Chapel which lies around the circular lawn. The grounds were laid out by the famed Fredrick Olmstead; the same man who designed the grounds of Central Park in New York City

The Bunn Library

The Corby Mathematics and Computing Center on right(Yes, it does look like Pizza Hut) and the Science Building on left.

The track and football field

The rear of the Science Center (air is completely recirculated every three to five minutes) and the bleachers to the field. As punishment for their senior class prank in 1998, the seniors had to move every brick from the far end of the field to the base of the bleachers. A comical sight at 8AM the Sunday morning before graduation.

Upper House where I lived with 65 senior boys for two years.

The Haskell House where I spent my third and final year living with 14 (to start by 12 by the end) senior boys.

Where Am I?

Essentially, we can call this two week trip of mine, a journey down memory lane. But it's also serving as a cleansing of the soul as well. More on that later. Flying from Oakland to Newark (via Orange County of all places) I spent the first couple days of this trip at my old stomping grounds of Lawrenceville. I puttered around with Jim J., spent an evening in Philadelphia, and took a nice long walk around campus, where I was filled with emotions of great pride in having spent three years here. It's hard to put into words what I was experiencing, but it must be that same thing that my parents feel when we go and visit some place of significance in their lives, that for me mean nothing, but it brings up something for them. I can now respect that when it occurs for them or anyone else.

A great evening of bonding, eating with Ian M. and a potential celebrity sighting of the star of the moving "Edge of Seventeen", Chris Stafford. But I'd say it's more than 50/50 but I didn't confirm by actually asking the guy who looked like the movie actor, who was sitting a mere two feet from us. By the way, high praise for the movie "Little Miss Sunshine".

Where am I now? In Ithaca, NY for the week. Again, it's another significant place in my life. I'm having those same nostalgic feelings. But it's also here where I am finally ridding myself of my relationship with Scott. I'm sad because I can envision him here taking a Wines course while I sit through lectures and discussions on US Politics. But here I am, alone. It's good to be here alone, although somewhat sad as well. But most important, I think, is that I am sitting with the feelings and letting them work through me and let them run their course. It's not easy to admit to oneself that I'm sad and that there are parts of my life I wish were different and parts of my personality that I could change but that will take immense effort and perseverance, but I guess the journey begins now. The sign? Last night, I deleted Scott's entry in my cellphone.

Onward!

I can complete what I start

Remember those flower boxes I mentioned that I had started to make. Well due to the trips this summer and a lack of motivation to get after my friend to bring over the router for me to borrow, it languished on the back burner for a month. Well, after returning from my trip to visit my family in Seattle, I was on my best behavior by the way, I got the fire to finish up the flower boxes.

Here's a couple of them for you to see.

Angel Island

Ernie's summer adventures continues with a recently completed camping trip to Angel Island State Park. For many of you, this name might ring a bell. It has a long history serving many different functions since the San Francisco Bay Area was discovered by non-natives. Angel Island is a large island in San Francisco Bay. Much like it's more famous sister, Alcatraz, Angel Island can only be reached by boat. However, Angel Island looms much larger and has much more to offer than the prison structures of Alcatraz. In its time, Angel Island was considered the Ellis Island of the west. It processed many Chinese Immigrants through its Immigration Station. The United States Military claimed possesion to it in the early 1900's, through the cold war. Angel Island was the launching point and return point for military men who served in the Asian theater. Many of those structures stand, albeit in no habitable condition, today. Between 1952-64, there were three Nike missile sites on the island. These missles had a range of 25 miles and were eventually rendered obsolete when ICBM's were introduced. Sometime between the 60's and now, the island was turned over to the state of California and turned into a State Park. On the island, there are 8 environmental (no fires allowed) campsites that can be reserved for $20 a night.

My friend Richard and I, after a number of my friends flaked out, set out to spend a couple nights on the island. If you check out this map you will see that our campsite was just above the word "Perimeter" just above Pearl's Beach on the south side of the island. The south side of the island faced San Francisco and here are some pictures of our campsite.

The city of San Francisco directly ahead

The Golden Gate Bridge off to the right

Richard trying his hand at his star chart and SF in twilight

Richard surveying our picnic table. We ate like kings.

My sleeping bag and a fog shrouded Golden Gate Bridge in the distance.

Strange fog patterns such as this morning shot where Alcatraz is the only landmark shrouded in fog.

What I was struck by the most is that the San Francisco Bay Area is still a working port of great magnitude. We saw large container ships enter and exit the Bay by sailing underneath the Golden Gate Bridge almost continuously. The city and surrounding region was originally settled because the Bay provided a calm port to load and unload ships and that is a huge part of the areas economic foundation to this day. I think we here in the SF Bay Area tend to forget that it is the basics such as shipping that what undergird our regions huge success and fortunes.

What the ships also provide is a symphony of foghorns when visibility is low to nothing. Early on during the second morning we arose to a wall of white. We could see nothing beyond the tops of the trees below. However, we could hear all the ships emitting their horn sounds. Usually, one wouldn't even pay attention to these but I was attuned to the different ships' sounds and it was fascinating. It also put a smile on my face.

Thanks to Richard for a great trip. We should do it again sometime!

Read and Follow the Instructions

Yesterday, I received a six page document from the Internal Revenue Service stating that I had claimed too much for my Mortgage Interest Deduction on my 2004 return and I therefore owed the government an additional $1,850 paid within a month.

After doing a bit of sleuthing (thank god I harbor my Dad's gene for filing away documents for situations exactly like this) by reviewing my 2002, 2003 and 2004 tax returns I found that because the 2004 tax return was the first time I calculated my taxes with Turbo Tax and didn't file through my Dad's accountant, I entered my deduction amount on Line 10 of the Schedule A instead of Line 11 and added a statement of explanation at the end.

The issue stems from the fact that the building is owned as a TIC and all the 1098 forms have the name and SSN of one of the other owners, therefore the IRS doesn't automatically apply the portion I paid in mortgage interest to my return. Entering the amount on Line 11 should be done when claiming mortgage interest in the case one doesn't have a 1098. Pretty obvious that I missed that key instruction and that miscue is coming back now.

I went down the the IRS office and consulted with a very helpful agent and was in and out of there in under five minutes. So, I've written a letter explaining my mistake and included a number of supporting documents. I hope this gets resolved quickly.

The silver lining here is that in going over my forms, I may have UNDERREPORTED my actual total mortgage interest because I didn't include the interest I paid on the Line of Credit I had in 2004. So, I actually might get money back from this whole ordeal. Ironic if I actually gain financially from this whole thing.

What good friends are for....

Tickets to daytona .......$140.00
Hot Dogs & Sodas...........$21.00
Picture Number 16 .......PRICELESS

Love you bud - Dave, Thom & Donald

"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