High Culture, Low Culture and A Chick Flick

My friend Carlos P. (a University of Montana alum and fellow lover of Missoula, MT) and I loved the show, Gilmore Girls. I have unilaterally made a pact that he and I would watch each and every movie Alexis Bledel and Lauren Graham ever made and will make. Because of that, I watched a matinee of The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2. I am just going to come out and say it that I teared up at two points and the bigger declaration and that is I LOVE CHICK FLICKS, especially ones that are centered around high school.

The afternoon was spent at the Western Montana State Fair. Photos.....

This Democratic Party table was out of Obama stickers, perhaps a good sign?

Seriously this was a booth at the fair.

Our energy woes even hit at the fair.

I won once, but then got greedy and lost my winnings.

Soft on the cheek!

Time for the demolition derby. We sang the Star-Spangled Banner and stood to salute the flag and this tank.

Right after the derby, it was time for the Missoula Symphony Orchestra's summer concert in the park.

The Missoula Symphony Orchestra in Caras Park

It's a great country we live in that a immigrant from the former Yugoslavia can be the conductor of this Symphony in the mountains and select popular tunes from Raiders of the Lost Ark, Legends of the Fall, the William Tell Overture, Clair de Lune as well as a medley of jazz and the theme from a number of great Western Movies. A great day here in the mountains makes me think about moving to Missoula.....

The Gods Smile Upon Me (Mostly) Part III

During my stay here in Missoula, I have been camping at a USFS campground about 20 miles outside of town while my friend Keith stays in a motel here in town. On my third night, I drove to the campsite and when I got there, my tent was GONE, as well as everything I had in there, my sleeping bag and duffel bag of clothing. GONE. I slept in the car that night and in the morning when I spoke to the campground host, Earl, didn't have much to say but to console me to say that sometime it happens. Miffed, I drove into town, pissed but resolved to get back on the horse and buy new equipment and get camping again. So, finding out the ONLY REI store in Montana is here in Missoula, I got a new sleeping bag and bivy sac (not a tent) I was out at site #2 at the Lolo Creek Campsite last night and slept under the stars.

Where is the good news? This morning, Earl woke me up to say that he was glad I came back because he found my bag in a dumpster and pulled it out for me. I picked it up and found that everything was there. The only thing I lost was my tent. That's it. Everything else, although a bit wet, was THERE and I had it back. And now I have TWO half lime green and gray sleeping bags. Even thieves are on my side!

Smoke Jumpers

Missoula, MT houses one of the Forest Service's six smoke jumper centers. It is also a museum to the fire fighters that do such great work in our forests. And, I was trained as one back in the summer of 1991. And yes, I wore the Nomex.

The dorm the smoke jumpers stay in when not out on a fire.

The Modern Fire Fighter

Many of the smoke jumpers sew their own gear

The room in which they pack the parachutes

What's in the cargo box that gets dropped to the smoke jumpers

Missoula, MT, Part 1

Those of you who know me, know I speak glowingly of the state of Montana, and specifically the college town of Missoula. My friend Keith, also a Missoula fan, have decided to spend four days here in Missoula. The town of Missoula is surrounded by mountains, one of them Mt. Sentinel, hard against the University of Montana, has the distinguished M mounted on it's hillside.

The Missoula M

A half hour hike takes you to the M itself

The view from Mt. Sentinel

A man I met on my hike, and when I first met him he was only in his black bikini underwear. I love that freedom comes with age.

This evening, I attended a talk by political writer David Sirota at the local bookstore, Fact & Fiction. He spoke about the election of 2008, about how elections are simply one in a series in a movement that start locally. He also talked about how important it is for the voters of Montana, especially since their votes for senator carry so much more weight than most of the voters in the United States. And he spoke about how the voters of Montana need to take action and put pressure on their senior US Senator, Max Baucus, who is chairman of the Finance Committee in the US Senate. In addition, he spoke about the power "the uprising" that is happening throughout the United States, how it is about Us vs. Them and how the epicenter is right here in Montana. How is is that Montana, which gave a mere 38% of its vote to John Kerry in 2004 can be in play for the Democratic party. It's not Obama, but a sense that the voters of Montana are feeling no longer a part of the conservative movement, that it has left them behind. Lastly, he reiterated the fact that the progressive/Democratic movement can't rely on the fact that occasionally the conductor of the conservative movement (Bush) is faulty, but that if it continues to rely of incompetency, it is only a temporary derailment of the continued conservative, issues based movement. The progressive/Democratic needs to work on its own movement.

Phew!

San Francisco, CA to Lewiston, ID

The Sundial Bridge in Redding, CA

The bend in the Deschutes River in Bend, OR

Oregon for Obama (which was Oregon for Hillary just a month ago)

Wrong in so many, many ways

Eastern Oregon

Downtown Walla Walla, WA (home of 26 Brix, an amazing restaurant(

Onions on Parade

Amphitheater on the Whitman College campus

Myself at the Vogel Plant Biosciences Building on the Washington State University Campus in Pullman, WA (proud of my sister's work on this building)

Vogel Plant Biosciences Building

On the left, Lewiston, ID, on the right Clarkston, WA (get it?)

More on Obama

A shout out to Thom B. of Casselberry, FL for A) being a great friend and B) alerting me to this article!

In ANOTHER entry on Obama, this one actually is snippets taken from an article in the San Francisco Chronicle from yesterday titled, Could Obama Be The First Asian President?

First, the facts:

"He was born and raised in Hawaii, the only majority-Asian state in the union; he spent four formative years in Jakarta, the home of his Indonesian stepfather Lolo Soetoro, where he attended local schools and learned passable Bahasa Indonesia. The family with whom he's closest — half-sister Maya Soetoro-Ng and her Chinese Canadian husband, Konrad Ng — are Asian American. So, too, are the most senior members of his congressional team — his Senate chief of staff Pete Rouse, whose mother is Japanese American, and his legislative director Chris Lu, whose parents hail from China."

Having the common Asian-American experience:

"Evidence for Obama's affinity with the Asian American experience runs true even as one delves deeper into his history. "A lot of aspects of the senator's story will be recognizable to many Asian Americans," says Lu, a Harvard Law School classmate of the senator's who joined the team in 2005. "He talks about feeling like somewhat of an outsider; about coming to terms with his self-identity; about figuring out how to reconcile the values from his unique heritage with those of larger U.S. society. These are tensions and conflicts that play out in the lives of all children of
immigrants."

"TV, movies, the radio ... Pop culture was color-coded, after all," he writes. "I began to notice that Cosby never got the girl on 'I Spy,' that the black man on 'Mission: Impossible' spent all his time underground. I noticed that there was nobody like me in the Sears, Roebuck Christmas catalog ... and that Santa was a white man."

The emphasis on education:

"If the boy has done his work for tomorrow, he can begin on his next day's assignments. Or the assignments he will have when he returns from the holidays") and about his overprotective mother's use of guilt as leverage ("A healthy dose of guilt
never hurt anybody," she tells him, "It's what civilization was built on, guilt. A highly underrated emotion") the Asian American reader's feelings of deja vu will have slipped from amusing to uncanny."

"The senator often talks about the importance of education, the value of hard work, and the need for a sense of personal responsibility," says Chris Lu. "That resonates with a lot of Asian Americans, who feel they've pulled themselves up by their bootstraps, and understand the notion that what we accomplish in life is in large part a measure of who we are as people, and how hard we strive."

It's a stretch, I know, but an interesting intellectual exercise nonetheless.

Ernie and Emma

Myself and Emma S., daughter of my colleague Molly B.

Had a couple hours to kill as my car was getting its first service, so I visited six week old Emma. This goes out to those who believe I have an antipathy towards babies. Not so.

Delacroix, LA

At the end of Louisiana State Route 46 is the town of Delacroix, LA. It is truly the end of the world. I took an afternoon after my hot shower to drive and see what this area looked like. This trip, along with a chat with a resident of Delacroix, Tino, that I met at a local restaurant gave me a peek into what this community was/is like and is experiencing.

Delacroix is a community that relies on crabs (blue and stone) and crawfish.

This 59 year old crabber is putting on a sealant that is red (to distinguish his traps from others) and acts to keep the "sea hair" from growing on them. He was scheduled to leave the next morning at 4AM. He claimed the the Discovery Channel's Deadliest Catch series is spot on. He used to live in Delacroix but his house was destroyed by Katrina and he now lives 12 miles up the road.

Because this house is "mobile" it costs some $800 a year to insure.

This house costs some $9000 a year to insure. Because of the incredible costs to get insurance most of the new permanent homes are built by sport fisherman (people from out of the area who use the homes occasionally or rent them out) who can afford the costs of insurance and replacement if lost to a hurricane). The majority of the locals live in trailers.

The "end of the world"

New Orleans Round 2

There has been lots of progress, but some items stand as a snapshot in time.

Wading through my email while in Texas a couple weeks ago, I came across a trip being organized by One Brick to bring a group of volunteers to work with the St. Bernard Project and do work on rebuilding houses in the hard hit parish east of New Orleans.

A little background on St. Bernard Parish (SBP). We all heard and saw pictures of the Lower Ninth Ward and the devastation there. The Lower Ninth is the eastern portion of Orleans Parish. So water flooded SBP from the west. But the majority of the land of SBP and the six towns that lie along the strip of land hugging the Mississippi River all sit in one of the "feet" that sticks out into the Gulf of Mexico. So the SBP was also hit with the double whammy of the storm surge from the South and East. Every home and business (68,000 pre-Katrina residents) was declared uninhabitable. This is a community that has to start from scratch.

In chatting with the few locals I (and our group of 22 volunteers) met, three years post hurricane and flooding a sense of acceptance has set in. The stages of grief have been experienced and the event is simply a part of the history of their lives. Certainly, they are sad about it, but it feels like each day is just the next step forward. However, the common refrain from these folk is their high school graduation analogy. The day before the flood was graduation day. Their community and family members were together as one for one last time. The flood dispersed everyone. And even though people promised to return and to visit, 50% of the community didn't or hasn't returned. They are gone physically but not in spirit. At this time, 28,000 residents live in SBP.

Our group was housed at a place called Camp Hope which is a former elementary school in the town of St. Bernard that was transformed into a volunteer center. Being semi-permanent, the facilities are much more plush than the church I was scheduled to stay in last time. Internet facilities, hot showers with plenty of water (although the oil spill on the Mississippi River, this area really doesn't ever catch a break, closed the water intake in SBP and so we were limited on the last couple days) and decent food (morning biscuits were the best) made the experience enjoyable.

The 9 guys of our group stayed here in Room 3 (Courtesy of Mike L.)

Our group of 22 was split to work on three houses. My group, Team Kilz, was sent to "kilz" houses. Kilz is the name of the brand of paint that is used to seal wood after it has been scraped of mold.

Inside the houses, we sweat as the houses act as a heat oven. But those in the attic were in a virtual sauna. Coming down from the rafters and stepping into the 95 degree heat felt like stepping into a cold breeze. (Courtesy of Mike L.)

My hair at the end of the day. (Courtesy of Mike L.)

Done (Courtesy of Mike L.)

Team Kilz after knocking off a house. Note the "Jethro Tull" look I'm sporting. Remember, fashion is out the window when it's over 34 Celsius (note my use of the metric system). From Left, Charlotte, Dana, Chris, Alison, Gordon, Tamra, Jules, myself, Tom, Mike and Priscilla

We worked on Angelique Street in Violet, LA on Monday and Tuesday. Beachhead Lane also in Violet on Wednesday, Pecan Street in Chalmette on Thursday and Gardena Lane in New Orleans on Friday.

On Tuesday evening, our group (as well as all the NCCC/Americorps volunteers at Camp Hope) were treated to a Bayou dinner hosted by the Perez family, formerly of Chalmette. Paul P. and his family are a family that has relocated to a different part of the state, but come back once a month to throw a dinner to honor the volunteers who are working in SBP. Paul echoed the sentiments we heard all week about loss of community and family, but he also wanted to shard how appreciative he and the New Orleans area are of the stream of volunteers who continue to come down to work. After the federal government response left the people of the area feeling hopeless, the volunteers like us and the love and support offered has provided the people of the area the sense that they are remembered. I will admit that I was moved by the outpouring of appreciation and the need these people have to say thanks. I think for all of us who are usually on the giving side of the equation find it hard to learn to accept help and love. So when we do it, the appreciation is even more emotionally charged.

Host Paul P. wears the hat and infamous fish shirt. (Courtesy of Mike L.)

Most evenings members of our group drove into New Orleans proper to have some good food and absorb the mood. I experienced the food and music culture that New Orleans is known for. One afternoon we finished our house early and stopped by the famous "Musician's Village", which is the blocks of land purchased by Harry Connick Jr. and friends upon which Habitat has build homes. Connick feared that New Orleans would lose a generation of musicians if they didn't have places to live so he simply had them built.

These homes at the corner of Alvar and Derbigny are colorfully painted. (Courtesy of Mike L.)

Tom in red tried to corrupt this child by teaching him wheelies and then raced him down the street. (Courtesy of Mike L.)

A great week after the three weeks in Texas. The hard work felt good and I slept better than I have in a month. Good friends, who happen also to be from San Francisco, good food and a feeling that I'm doing something to help. The residents tell us not to forget them and to continue coming back to help as there is still work to do. I'm betting I will.

I am happy to report that my Dad, to save his sanity and health, has resigned as executor of my Uncle's estate and has turned it over to my cousin Henry. He'll consult but he's gone home to Seattle.

Cafe Du Monde

Cafe du Monde, open 24 hours a day in the French Quarter

3 Beignets and a Cafe au Lait for $4. I experienced this bit of consumer surplus twice.

45 Down and 5 To Go

State Number 45

The beach in Pass Christian, MS

The five states left are Alabama, Alaska, North Carolina, South Dakota and Tennessee

Indignation Level 3

Ok, on the Carlos P. Levels of Indignation, with 5 being outright moral outrage and incredulity at the audacity of someone or some organization, I am sitting here at Level 3 having had to pay $15 to check my bag in on American Airlines. Ok, they did return my bag when it got lost this past week, but they lost the bag to begin with, so I think I'm even with them karma-wise. But $15 for a service that I think is an entitlement? Am I wrong? (Wow, did I ever think I would ever act like someone who feels entitled to a service?)

I feel like I was being held up by a crook when I had no option but to check a bag since I couldn't have three carry-ons. I mean, Southwest Airlines allows at least the first bag checked free.

I don't like having to pay, but I did so anyway under GREAT mental (as in I didn't take it out on any airline employee) protest.

My time has come to a close

As I wrap up my time here in Texas, I have a few final thoughts about this unraveling (and that truly has been the operative term here) of my deceased Uncle's estate. First off, what has come to the fore is that my father and I approach this process differently than my cousin. The forefront of our motivation is that we are here to settle the estate of my Uncle. Creditors get paid off, promises kept and laws get followed to the letter. In my mind, and what has caused some tension between myself and my cousin, is that he and his half-sister are here for asset preservation. Each time I declare a check should be written (and remember I can only voice my opinion as I have no legal power to write checks in this instance) I have been reminded that I am "writing a check out of (their) pockets."

I've also been given further proof of the practice of dealing with problems and affairs as they become known. How much of the pain and work that we are dealing with here is a function of my Uncle just not addressing issues right away. Fines and judgments galore here because he simply didn't pay things (or in many cases probably didn't have the funds to pay his bills). Also, how many lawyers could one person need and deal with at the same time?

On a personal front, I have come to realize that we are really products of our fathers and parents. More often than not, how I respond to a situation is pretty much the same way my father answers. I approach things the same way he does. Cut no corners, honor your commitments and say what you mean. I have watched my Dad deal with this really, really stressful and complicated situation with great calm (ok MOST of the time, it's my Dad remember) but his management of people is something I've never actually seen in action before. I've had to rein him in on some tendencies to want to micromanage people, but overall, he's been great. I'm proud of him.

In addition, I've learned how having financial security as a child and throughout life alters the way you approach the world. It's not that money can buy me anything, but its having the ability to not have to shortchange people or to be able to pay in full right up front. The ability to do so makes life a lot easier and more pleasant.

Now that I'm finishing up service to the family, I'm going to fly to New Orleans to spend a week doing relief work in St. Bernard Parish, east of the city. I need to do some physical labor after having sat around here for the last three weeks.

Thank You to the Staff of American Eagle in.....

Fayetteville/Bentonville, AR. That's where my lost bag turned up. I got a call this past Monday from my branch of Bank of America to call a woman named Diane C. with an area code of 479. I know my area codes, but this one was a new one to even me. I called the woman and end up talking to a man there named Dave who says that the American Eagle at XNA (Northwest Arkansas) has had my unmarked bag for a couple weeks. They searched through my bag and found the teller receipt for a $500 withdrawal I had made at my local branch because I knew I was going to need some petty cash here in Texas and wasn't sure when my cash card would arrive. I put the cash and receipt inside my bag and that was the only piece of identification inside my bag.

The agents in Arkansas convinced their local Bank of America to contact my branch and have my branch call me to have me contact the agents in Arkansas. I did and Dave didn't feel comfortable with putting the cash back in the bag. He therefore was willing to take the cash and turn it into a money order and stuck it back in the bag. The bag was then expedited on the first flight out of Arkansas back to DFW where I picked it up the next morning. I am still amazed at the good in people and how this worked out. These wonderful people will be getting a huge gift sent from me when I return to San Francisco.

For those of you keeping track, this is the second time my camera has been lost and returned to me. The first time was last year in Panama, when I left my camera in the car of a couple that gave me a ride. They tracked me down because they called Continental Airlines because the couple and I had sat next to each other on the plane flight down. My camera is now on the third of its nine lives.

This is San Francisco and the Bay Area at its best

Many of you know that I am a huge devotee of Richard Florida (Juliet, if you're reading this get cracking on "Rise of the Creative Class" because this posting is exactly what he's talking about), so here is what's happening at Intel in Berkeley.

Check this link about street sweepers helping collect air quality data.

P.S. Make sure to watch the video link to see that there is a person out there who perhaps, is more expressive with their hands while talking, than I!!!

July 2008 = Texas and the Southeastern USA

Early in the morning of June 28th, 2008 (as in 12:30AM), having parked my car at friend Tony's (or marriage fame) house in Oakland, taking BART back across the Bay to SFO, rushing through the concourse and being the LAST person on the American Airlines #1441 to Dallas/Fort Worth, I handed my black roller-bag to the stewardess at the door of the plane to have it gate checked. She asks, "does anyone have a gate check tag?" No one does. She ASSURES me that the bag will make it into the baggage area below and show up in Dallas as the flight is scheduled to stop in Dallas and the plane cleared before the next flight boards.

Three and a half hours later, I stand at the baggage carousel, looking longingly at the circular metal device spinning around and around with no sign of my black bag in sight. Stupid is as stupid does.

The reason I was on this flight was that I was to attend my Uncle's funeral in Arlington, TX. Nothing out of the ordinary there. However, I was asked by my father and cousin Henry to extend my stay for another two weeks to help them unravel my Uncle's estate.

My father was named executor of the estate. His job in this case was to assemble a list of the assets and liabilities, proceed with whatever probate court issues needed to be handled, ensure the value of the estate is evenly divided between my two cousins, and be done.

EASIER SAID THAN DONE. I am not at liberty to reveal any of the details of the case but my Uncle had some unorthodox financial practices and so the three of us are basically trying to understand how to "follow the money." We really do need one of those big poster board charts you see on television shows where pictures of suspects are put on the board and lines are drawn between major characters to show relationships. In our case, substitute pictures with boxes that represent corporations, accounts and creditors.

It's been a slow slog, and I find it particularly challenging because I don't have a set path to go on. In my regular life, I set things up so I can make a list and be able to work through it systematically because I know exactly how to accomplish each and every task. In this case, I struggle to even come up with a strategy to accomplish my part of this case.

However, I have to report that these past couple days I've had some moments of success. I will report that yesterday, I managed to establish an online account with the Texas Secretary of State's Office and in a 45 minute flurry of brilliance determine, download and print out a bunch of information that will help us determine what parts of the estate will eventually need to be transferred into the trust, to eventually pay off debts and then be divided amongst my cousins. And David D., I did say "thank you."

I will report that I have told my father and cousins that I will work during the week, but that my weekends are mine. This part 4th of July weekend, I flew to Orlando to visit my friends David C. and Thom B. David and I took Saturday afternoon to get on an airboat and go look at alligators in their native swamp environment and then went to Cocoa Beach and Cape Canaveral. The rest of the time, I took advantage of their couch to nap, watch television and commune with my inner potato. This upcoming weekend, I fly to Atlanta to visit a potentially someone special.

The weekends have been fun, but I've also decided to no throw myself a pity party and to enjoy the evenings as well. This past Monday, I attended Raising Sand, which is a concert with Robert Plant and Alison Krauss. Last night, my cousin Henry and I enjoyed the Texas Rangers/Los Angeles Angels game here in Arlington. A highlight was not only that Texas beat the Angels, but we also won free tacos in the fifth inning because a Rangers player hit a home run. Thanks, Chris Davis!

So, that's been my July so far. I was fearing what I was going to do this July since the India fellowship fell through. I had to believe that it was going to reveal itself to me, and it most certainly did. I am chalking this all up to the category of "service to the family."