On Being Thankful in Hard Times
Wikipedia states that Marin County, California, has, according to the 2000 census, the highest per capita income in the country and the third highest mean personal income. (Yeah. I don’t exactly know the difference either.) I’m not sure whether or not these data hold true in 2008. Whatever our actual rank, however, there’s no denying that I now live in one of the wealthiest places on earth. (Of course, you can’t count Dubai.) And, the abundant natural beauty of Oregon notwithstanding, it’s likely I now live in about the most gorgeous place I’ve ever been.
One of the facts of life here is that everything costs more. Sometimes a lot more. When I moved to Marin in July 2007, I was a victim of extreme sticker shock. My rent here is 250% of my last place in Oregon. (Of course, the view from my patio is incredible.) I still often cringe when I check out at the grocery store. And it’s been my experience that restaurant eating is outrageous.
Another element of life in Marin is that you don’t really see that many homeless people. When you take a trip into the city, of course, that’s a whole different story. But here...they’re largely invisible.
However, as I mentioned in my last essay, times are changing. Even here, evidence of the current economic crisis exists. At an intersection in the northern part of the county yesterday, I saw a man standing, with his dog, holding a sign that said “FORECLOSED. EVICTED.” (Along with some other smaller print that I could not read.) As I was driving, passing by him at the corner, I handed him some cash...something I admit: I do not normally do.
I filled up my car with gas yesterday, too. Now, because I live so very close to work, and don’t do that much other driving these days, I fill up only once about every three or four weeks. Two fill-ups ago, I paid $4.51/gallon. Yesterday, I paid $2.11. Yes, I filled up my tank for less that 50% of what it cost me in early October.
I also saw a front-page article in the San Francisco Chronicle yesterday which reported the state’s unemployment rate had risen to 8.2% in October, up from 7.7% in September and 5.7% in October 2007. Here in the Bay Area things are not quite as bad, with the unemployment rate for San Francisco at 6.0% and in Marin County, 4.9%.
Of course, what the stock market has done to my plans for retirement has been incredibly emotional to deal with. It was going to be tough enough anyway...now...who knows? “Retirement” may forever remain only a vague theoretical construct in my life.
Still, I know I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know: we’re in deep economic doo-doo in this county. And it’s going to take herculean efforts to dig our way out. I have faith that our new leadership, coming into office on January 20, is up to the task. In the meantime, I fear things are probably going to get a lot worse before they get better.
It’s been three full years since my first blog entry on Thanksgiving Day 2005. As I reflect on the Thanksgiving holiday coming up this week, I’m thankful for the supportive people in my life (including my new Twitter “friends”), that my health continues to improve (there’s evidence of getting stronger and stronger every week), that I remain employed, and that I live in such a blessedly beautiful part of the world.
Finally, during this holiday week, special love and hugs go out to Browyn & Corey, Grace & Kaleb, Tobin & Tanya, Ryan & Colby, Anne & Pete. And to my soul-mate in Portland; you know who you are.
Snippets from a Life
I am here at the UCLA campus early on a Sunday morning. Conference registration starts at 9:00 a.m., but it’s just now 8:00 and I’ve already eaten breakfast and am ready to go. I dig my camera out of my backpack and decide to go for a walk. About three blocks from my residence hall, I discover an athletic field filled with young women attending a cheerleading camp. I keep a respectful distance yet take a couple of shots. I climb the bleachers to get a different angle. A person with the group comes up to the top to talk to me…to ask me what I’m doing. “Just taking pictures,” I reply. He indicates that that is not allowed here, and could I please leave? Which, of course, I do.
I’m sitting on a bench at a local park here in Marin. Reading. Getting a few minutes of sunshine. I’m wearing khaki-colored shorts and a grey t-shirt that says “Oregon State University” in big letters. A man and a woman slowly go by while walking their dog, giving me just a little glance. They finally get past me, but the gentlemen eventually turns around and asks, “are you an old Beaver?” I sigh and reply, “yes, I’m an old Beaver.” Then, stealing a Michael Douglas line from The American President, I add, “but I’m not all that comfortable with the old part.”
I’m sitting at a table outside a neighborhood Starbucks. Again: reading. The same novel (Haunted by Chuck Palahniuk) as before, as a matter of fact. I have on the table beside me: a cup of tea (hot tea), a partially-eaten toffee-almond cookie (a newly-discovered weakness), a couple of napkins, and my cell phone. A woman and her (big) dog walk by. (I think it’s a Golden Lab.) She’s blabbering away on her cell phone. The leash is very loose, and the dog wanders over to me. I start to pet him/her and it jumps up on my lap. Then, right away, it’s on the table (front legs only) and gobbles down my cookie. The cup of tea goes flying and I try to catch it. I do, and spill hot liquid all over my right arm and cell phone. The woman sees what’s happening and gives a firm tug on the leash. While I start to mop up, she and the dog walk away. She’s still talking on her phone.
Go Bruins
Royce Hall, University of California Los Angeles
I have opinions. Lots of them. And, as you are aware, I’m rather critical of some things now and then. You know, like the last entry where I complained about the utter senselessness of the workshop (seminar? training? conference? er…none of the above…) I attended last week. And, on these pages, I have shared negative views about such topics as our misguided U. S. foreign policy, rude cell phone users, loud neighbors, dysfunctional organizations, and inept health-care providers. Yes folks, with TechnoMonk, it’s whine, whine, whine. All the time. Or so it seems.
When will I have something positive to say?
Well, perhaps, today.
Because, other than the event I went to Los Angeles for, the actual campus experience wasn’t all that bad. Wonder of wonders, I have nothing but praises to sing for the UCLA staff and students I met.
The SuperShuttle van dropped me off right outside the residence hall main door, and when I approached the desk to announce that I was there to check in, I was greeted with a big smile by a delightful (and totally lovely) undergraduate female student who gave me every indication that I was the most important person in her world right then. She patiently checked me in, gave me a lot of the information I’d need to have to navigate the residence-hall world I was about to enter and, when I became confused with the (rather involved) directions to my room, offered to escort me through the maze this first time. And she did just that. When I expressed to her my reservations about how I would even endure a residence-hall stay, fearing that I would be the oldest in the building, even among those in my own group, she assured me that they try to keep everybody happy, and expressed genuine (it seemed) skepticism that I was the most senior. (Oh, she was sweet.)
The room, course, did not match the Hilton. But, as long as it stayed quiet, my first impression was that it just might be OK. (Also: there are private bathrooms in residence halls these days…thank god.) As I was settling in, I had difficulty connecting to their wireless network. And while there was an Ethernet connection in the room, guests were responsible for furnishing their own cable. I didn’t have one, and the office that sold them was closed (I arrived on a Saturday night). Sarah, the residence hall manager, loaned me the sole extra cable that she had.
Sarah. What a dedicated and talented one she is. She coach me through my initial wireless network issues, loaned me that cable (for my entire stay), took care of my room immediately when the air conditioner sprang a leak, and was just generally available anytime I asked for her. (I believe I was one of the more needy guests that week…maybe any week. She handled me superbly.)
Next up were the staff at the Covel Business Center (CBC) on campus. The technical issues I ended up having with my network connections (both wired and wireless) for my laptop were considerable. Within an hour of when the CBC folks helped me figure out the details of finally making my network connections “functional,” (not really), my computer started crashing. (This was during my second day on campus.) Some of you may be familiar with the ol’ Blue Screen of Death that can scare the bejesus out of Windows users. That’s what started happening to me whenever I was connected to the UCLA network. I had one long conversation over the phone with a CBC technician and then more personal help when I walked my machine over there for them to look at. We could not replicate the problem in the presence of a technician (of course!), but he was totally focused on my problem, and even offered to keep my machine for awhile to run a series of diagnostics on it to try and figure out the problem. I didn’t want to leave my machine there for an entire day, but the offer was very thoughtful (and unexpected). I ended up going to the Westwood Starbucks for a reliable internet connection, having determined that whenever my machine was not connected to the campus network, it was happy and well-behaved. CBC also helped me get my course materials shipped back home (as their sheer bulk made it impossible to pack them in my luggage or carry on board).
On Tuesday afternoon we had some time off. It was a warm and sunny afternoon in LA, and I took the opportunity to walk around campus with my camera. First off, I was soooo impressed with the beauty of this place. I had not visited here since 1981, and then only for a short part of one day (Bid Day group pictures for the Tri Delts, as I recall.) I had forgotten what a great-looking place this was. It made me wish I was back working on a university campus. Maybe even this one.
Although this was a “quiet” summer day, there was a lot of activity going on. There were several signs around announcing orientation activities, and I discovered several groups of new freshmen undergoing this formal introduction to their lives as college students. One group, in particular, was on the lawn down the hill from the library, and I eavesdropped for a few minutes. There were two group leaders (upperclassmen, I’m assuming) who were both incredible. They were great speakers and displayed considerable expertise and knowledge about the UCLA general-education requirements – patiently fielding questions from group members. I was in particular awe of the depth of one of the group-leader’s abilities in this area.
Finally, there were several, maybe dozens, of campus tour groups. Undergraduate guides were leading prospective students (and parents) all over the place. Again, I was totally impressed with their professionalism, the depth of their knowledge of the campus, and their ability to focus their remarks in order to start the initial indoctrination process about what it is to “be a Bruin.” One young-lady tour guide I stopped to listen in on was explaining to the group the fierce nature of the UCLA – USC (“University of Second Choice,” “University of Spoiled Children”) rivalry, and the practice of freshmen students being “baptized” (my term) at the Inverted Fountain (where we were at the time). She told the story much as it is related on the website of the UCLA History Project. She indicated that, “during orientation, freshmen are commonly ‘initiated’ by being told to wade in or touch the water, and then forewarned that doing so again before graduation will tack on an extra quarter to their academic career.”
She was an engaging speaker, enthusiastic, and a true Bruin-believer. She made sure that the group knew: “once a Bruin, always a Bruin.”
I was ready to enroll. Where do I sign up?!
At any rate, the UCLA campus experience was a delightful one. I was well-treated, totally taken care of, and very impressed by the professionalism, enthusiasm, and customer-service orientation of both students and staff.
Thanks, UCLA!
Mundane Yet Meaningful
Vacation is over. The traveling portion of my time away from work entailed six nights in Eugene. And I’ve been back in Marin for four nights now. As a follow-up to my last entry, I can now report that I successfully did find that place of safety and security I was seeking while away, if only for a little while. And the chatter in my mind, well, it quieted down some too. This happened gradually over my time in Oregon, and seemed to have snuck up on me while I was doing, simply, nothing special.
This trip was not about going to an exotic place or seeing wonderful new things. I sought, and found, a blessed zone of comfort and familiarity. Some of the mundane yet meaningful portions of the trip included:
A monstrous hug from two-year-old Kaleb. (He’s is the younger child of the daughter I never had; C’s second grandchild.) His warm and loving greeting was entirely unexpected, and the gesture tugged fiercely at my heart.
Lunch with two former colleagues from my time with the Oregon University System, including lots of stories and laughter.
A hike to the top of Mt. Pisgah on a 90-degree afternoon. This is the most strenuous workout I’ve had in over three years, and I survived it. In great shape.
A long walk around Corvallis and the Oregon State University campus, including time to sit quietly on a bench at the MU quad.
Two entire days at the Oregon Country Fair. The photos I took at this year’s event were probably about the best I’ve ever done there. Laura Kemp was, of course, spectacular. And the chat I had with Jill was delightful.
Revisiting Café Yumm, Café Sienna, the Glenwood Café, and the Dairy Queen on Coburg Road. (Even after a year away, the folks at Café Sienna remembered my “usual.”)
Going to two movies.
Shopping without paying California sales tax. (Though I had to UPS a package back to myself before I left Eugene…so I probably paid the tax anyway!)
