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UC Berkeley gained a pair of new treesitters Monday morning in one of two acacias at People's Park designated for the ax by university officials.
By Richard Brenneman
UC Berkeley gained a pair of new treesitters Monday morning in one of two acacias at People's Park designated for the ax by university officials.
 

News

Sink Hole Closes Tunnel Road

Wednesday January 07, 2009 - 10:38:00 AM

 Tunnel Road westbound will be closed from Highway 13, as will the intersection of Vicente and Tunnel Road, this morning and afternoon due to a large sink hole caused by a water main break, according to Berkeley police. 

Cal Trans and EBMUD are working on the problem and expect the road closure to last between three and five hours. Highway 13 will still be open to eastbound traffic.


Treesitting Pair Occupies Acacia at People's Park

By Richard Brenneman
Tuesday January 06, 2009 - 04:51:00 PM
UC Berkeley gained a pair of new treesitters Monday morning in one of two acacias at People's Park designated for the ax by university officials.
By Richard Brenneman
UC Berkeley gained a pair of new treesitters Monday morning in one of two acacias at People's Park designated for the ax by university officials.

The treesitters are back on UC Berkeley’s turf, this time occupying the branches of an acacia at People’s Park. 

    Two protesters declared their occupation Monday morning of one of two People’s Park acacias that the university plans to chop down. 

    Unlike the Memorial Stadium treesit, which ended in September with the demolition of a venerable oak grove, the People’s Park protest wasn’t sparked by construction. 

    While the university wanted to clear the stadium grove to make way for a four-level high tech gym and office complex, UC Berkeley spokesperson Irene Hegarty says safety concerns have prompted plans to remove the trees from the park. 

    And even some treesit supporters say they aren’t adamantly opposed to removal of the trees should that prove necessary, so long as the university replaces them, and not necessarily with acacias.  

    “We have a lot of demands,” said one of the treesitters. 

    Just what those demands were still wasn’t clear by early Tuesday afternoon, though some had been made explicit. One of the most controversial is certain to be the demand to reinstate the free box, where people could drop off clothing and other donations for the park’s homeless population. Protests, an arson and several arrests marked the prolonged battle between activists and the university that ended with the elimination of the People’s Park free box. 

    While some supporters say they want the acacias to live, others say that they might accept replacements if the university shows that the trees must go. 

    Zachary RunningWolf staged a brief occupation of one of the acacias on Dec. 18, before UC Police Capt. Guillermo Beckford signed an agreement to postpone any axing action until after the holidays. 

    RunningWolf is among the backers of indigenous replacements if needed, preferably a redwood—the same species he climbed to kick off the Memorial Stadium treesit two years earlier. 

    Kingman Lim, an independent certified arborist who volunteered to look at the two acacias, said he believed the trees could be saved “with a combination of non-invasive cabling and end-weight reduction.” 

    University spokesperson Hegarty said reports on the park’s acacias were prepared by three arborists in 2003 after safety concerns were triggered when another park acacia toppled unexpectedly. 

    One consultant was on the university staff and a second was hired by the school, while a third was paid “by the community.” 

    All of them said the three playground acacias were structurally weak, and one had been reduced to a hollow shell. The hollowed tree was removed, and the decision was made to examine the remaining trees in five years. 

    The university’s latest plans to remove the trees were sparked by the collapse of a fourth acacia at the western end of the park in early December, she said, though the People’s Park Community Advisory Board had been briefed on concerns about the trees a month earlier. 

    RunningWolf said he didn’t believe the larger community had been adequately notified, “and needed to be involved before any decisions were made about the trees. 

    Regin, another supporter of the treesit and one of those who had occupied the trees at Memorial Stadium for 11 months, said “the kids up there in the trees know they are depending on this earth to keep on living, and they are there to save life that is in jeopardy.” 

    And in a statement released Monday night, treesit supporters said one of the demands is that “stay-away orders given to people involved in the Oak Grove tree-sit should refer only to the campus, not other UC properties such as People’s Park.”


Burning Body Found Near Berkeley Shore

By Richard Brenneman
Tuesday December 30, 2008 - 10:40:00 AM

Berkeley police and firefighters rushed to the shoreline early Tuesday morning, where they discovered a body burning inside a container. 

The grisly scene was at the Virginia Gate to East Shore Park and was discovered by passersby, who saw the flames and called 911. 

Because the site was located within the East Bay Regional Park District, jurisdiction was assigned to the park district police force, said park police Capt. Mark Ruppenthal. 

“All I can tell you is that we have a body that was set on fire in a container. We’re still trying to figure out what we have,” he said later Tuesday morning. “At this point I cannot tell you the age, race or even the sex of the victim.” 

Officer Andrew Frankel of the Berkeley Police said BPD and firefighters initially responded to the scene, then called the park police when jurisdiction was determined. 

“We immediately sent investigators and patrol officers, and I responded as well,” said Capt. Ruppenthal. “Berkeley police and firefighters were on scene at the time I arrived and they transferred the scene to us.” 

By 10 a.m. park police crime scene investigators were preparing to examine the site for evidence, and a coroner’s van was waiting nearby to take the body away once investigators had finished their initial examination of the remains. 

Capt. Ruppenthal said witnesses did not have a description of any suspects in the crime, and said detectives were trying to determine the ownership of a bicycle found nearby. 

He said that the body had been set alight “with some sort of accelerant, and we’re trying to figure out just what it was.” 


Post-Christmas Fire Claims Berkeley Cats

By Richard Brenneman
Monday December 29, 2008 - 04:42:00 PM

Two cats died on Friday from smoke inhalation in a slow-burning fire in a rented home at 1367 La Loma Ave. 

“A neighbor called at 9:44 a.m. after seeing smoke coming from the residence,” said Deputy Fire Chief Gil Dong. The first engine to arrive found the house full of “smoke and a lot of heat.” 

No humans were present, however, so an initial search of the home found the asphyxiated felines as well as the source of the smoke. 

“Apparently someone had left a rug partially covering a floor furnace,” said the deputy chief. While the heat began to char the rug, which then spread to the wooden flooring. There appears to have been little or no flames. 

Slow-burning fires, or pyrolysis, can cause extensive damage, and in the La Loma dwelling, the embers ate a four-foot hole in the floor, reducing floor joists beneath to ashes. 

“We estimate the damage to the residence at $50,000, and damage to contents at $10,000,” said Deputy Chief Dong. 

Unlike many a Christmas past, he said, Berkeley made it through the holiday without an oven fire from a forgotten roast or turkey. 

The residents of the home had still not appeared by the time firefighters cleared the scene.


Buried Body in Wall Identified by Police

By Richard Brenneman
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 09:57:00 AM
A crime scene cleanup technician finishes donning his protective gear as he prepares to work on the Ashby Avenue room where police found a body buried behind a wall.
Richard Brenneman
A crime scene cleanup technician finishes donning his protective gear as he prepares to work on the Ashby Avenue room where police found a body buried behind a wall.

The dramatic suicide of a Berkeley man last week led police to a second gruesome discovery two days later, a badly decomposed male corpse walled up inside the first floor laundry room. 

Today (Tuesday) Berkeley police announced that the Alameda County coroner was able to identify the remains using dental record as those of Taruk Joseph Ben Ali. It is not yet known how or when Ali, born in 1968, had died. 

A caller’s report on Dec. 15 of a loud argument brought officers to the building at 2235 Ashby Ave. Monday night, and they were directed to the apartment of Hassan Bin Ali, 60. 

Once the officers were inside the apartment, Bin Ali “pulled a handgun, put it to his head and subsequently took his own life,” said Berkeley police spokesperson Officer Andrew Frankel. 

The police daily bulletin for Dec. 15 lists the time of the shot as 5:55 p.m. 

Mortally wounded, he was rushed to Highland Hospital by a Berkeley Fire Department ambulance, where he was pronounced dead on arrival. 

Frankel said that the older Ali had lived alone, and officers don’t know whom he was arguing with at the time they were called. “We haven’t heard any reports of anyone seen coming or going, so it could’ve been an argument over the telephone,” he said. 

During the subsequent investigation, “officers on the scene found evidence that led them to believe another crime may have been committed.” 

Based on that evidence, detectives obtained a search warrant and began a thorough search of the building, leading to the discovery of the body entombed behind a wall on the first floor. 

While one published account cited a neighbor who had described Bin Ali as paranoid before his suicide, Frankel said he had spoken to a neighbor who had been shocked that the man had taken his own life. 

Frankel said the cause of death of the body in the wall was being listed as “suspicious,” rather than as a homicide. He asked anyone with any information about Bin Ali and the case to call police at 981-6900.  

Berkeley firefighters were called to the scene after the body was discovered to assist with biohazard containment, said Deputy Fire Chief Gil Dong.  

Berkeley police were responsible for retrieving the remains, which were contained in a large coffin-sized wooden box. 

“We provided tools and equipment,” said Deputy Chief Dong. 

Once police and firefighters had completed their phase of the removal, Arturo Sopon and his private cleanup team Morgan Environmental Service, an Oakland firm licensed by the state to handle hazardous waste and trauma scenes, arrived to finish the job, donning Tyvek suits, protective masks, boots and gloves, taping over the seams to prevent exposure. 

“We clean up bodily fluids,” Sopon said, adding that work often spiked over the Christmas season and during summer months. 

 


Fire Forces Evacuation of Regent Street Apartments

By Richard Brenneman
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 09:59:00 AM

A second-floor bedroom fire led Berkeley Police to evacuate a large three-story apartment building on Regent Street on Monday morning as firefighters fought to contain the flames. 

Fire damage to the stucco-clad L-shaped building was contained to the single room, while heat and smoke damaged the rest of that apartment and its contents, said Berkeley Fire Department Duty Chief Donna McCracken three hours later. 

“It was a single-alarm fire,” McCracken said. “There were no injuries.” 

Most residents were able to return to their apartments soon after the smoke was cleared, and by the time emergency workers left the scene, only the single apartment had been ruled unfit for occupancy.  

An investigation of the cause is underway, and no dollar estimate of damages was yet available. 

“The fire was extinguished within four minutes of arrival,” said the duty chief, which occurred shortly after an 8:30 a.m. call to 911. Firefighters had to force the door open because the tenants of the charred apartment weren’t home. 

By noon, the scene was clear and no ready evidence of the drama remained for passers-by save for the shadow of a smoke stain ascending the wall above the bedroom window.


People’s Park Tree-Sit Ends With Holiday Reprieve

By Richard Brenneman
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 09:59:00 AM
The threatened acacia trees are fenced off at People’s Park.
Richard Brenneman
The threatened acacia trees are fenced off at People’s Park.

Berkeley’s latest tree-sit ended the same day it began last week when campus police signed a Christmas truce that spares—for the moment—two acacias in People’s Park. 

Zachary RunningWolf, the same arboreal ascender who began the lengthy occupation of the oak grove at Memorial Stadium on Dec. 2, 2006, was the lone occupant of one of the People’s Park acacias, which share space with a children’s playground. The grove tree-sit ended Sept. 9, the same day the last of the trees there was leveled by a chainsaw-wielding contract crew. 

RunningWolf’s ascent at People’s Park on Dec. 18 came after campus officials cut down one tree south of the park’s stage area and posted a notice that they planned to ax the other two to the east. 

According to the plastic-shielded notice placed on a fence surrounding the playground, one of the shoots of the acacia at the park’s western end had collapsed Dec. 2, and the remainder of the tree was then taken down. 

“Two other acacia trees at the east end of the park … have been identified as potential hazards by UC Berkeley and consulting arborists,” the notice declared. “They are structurally weak and subject to failure and collapse, and are planned to be removed in the near future.” 

After RunningWolf ascended the branches Thursday and a preliminary effort failed to dislodge him, negotiations began, and by mid-afternoon, UC Police Capt. Guillermo Beckford had signed a statement which was passed up to RunningWolf. 

“This is written notification that if you will voluntarily come down from the Acacia tree that you are in presently, that the university will NOT remove these two trees during the holidays,” read the statement that opened “Dear Zachary.” 

“If the stadium treesit was the longest urban treesit, this was the shortest,” said RunningWolf Thursday afternoon. 

Both campus and city police were on hand when he descended, but Capt. Beckford had promised no arrest would be made, so RunningWolf was free to accept the accolades of supporters, who included Dumpster Muffin and other veterans of the stadium grove action. 

The protesters plan to consult with their own tree experts to see if the acacias really are diseased. 

“I was up in the trees and I didn’t see any sign of disease,” RunningWolf said, adding, “I suspect they really just want to cut whatever they can in the park. But this isn’t on fraternity row. This is People’s Park.” 


Round and About

By Jerry Cote
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:19:00 AM

Virginia Bakery… Virginia Cleaners… Virginia Street—it’s all right there on two short blocks in a small north Berkeley neighborhood. As I jog past the bakery’s storefront, the scent of warm bread and joy from inside drifts out into the street deliciously.  

Farther on, a group of drowsy Hispanic women are trudging to work at the drive-through cleaners as dawn peels away the darkness. This’ll be just one of several Berkeley neighborhoods I’ll run through this morning; one of many memories I’ll have of growing up and moving on. 

It was the Chocolate Ribbon cake that I liked best—that’s what I always asked for on my birthday. Sometimes I’d get it and at others, well … maybe something unexpected. This morning, it’s the dainty little chocolate-chip tea cookies that tickle my nostrils and get me to thinking of when I was young and that corner shop held so much pleasure.  

Part of my run takes me down Cedar Street past a small Craftsman house where in 1969 I seemed to have lost a simile of that earlier word—my virginity. I’m not exactly certain about the facts of that night when I was fourteen; high on LSD and returning back to her home to “fool around” after seeing Walt Disney’s Fantasia, but embodied in me there’s a song and a girl that I’ll probably remember forever.  

As I jog around in the city I grew up in these days, one that doesn’t seem so large anymore as I navigate around all of its boundaries, it’s often very cathartic. For a time, 20 years to be exact, I’d left Berkeley to live somewhere different. Reacquainting myself with the town again, I’m amazed by the return of so much from my past as I run through my life and the places that shaped who I am. 

Most of the time you won’t find me running through neighborhoods though. In the early mornings when I like to jog and have the energy to do so, I get myself to the track at the local junior high school. Going around in circles is a fairly boring form of exercise, but the forgiving dirt surface and recollections from the past keep my body and mind coming back. 

It was when I was in the 7th grade and on that very same field that one of my gym teachers singled me out and suggested that I might want to sign up for the track team. I was 13 years old at the time and probably feeling like many young adolescents do at that age—lost and confused about life. Being asked to join something did a lot for my esteem and for a while it was how I identified; I was a runner. 

Previous to that, and for a major part of my childhood, I’d been a fat kid. I used to arrive home after school and plop myself down in front of the TV where I’d gorge myself silly on junk food ‘til one of my parents came home. Creature Features—that’s what I’d watch. In fact, now that I think about it, they probably ran those late afternoon movies for latch-key kids just like me. These days, it’s just “Maury”, “Ms. Banks,” and “The Doctors”; how depressing the thought of that is. 

After I became a runner, though, on those afternoons following school, I’d go down to the track to run and work out where I’d invariably see many of my schoolmates. As they sat around chatting and smoking on the lawn while I huffed and I puffed and circled them furiously, they pointed and snickered at me as I ran. I suppose it was mean of them to do that but I didn’t care, I felt happy and accomplished pursuing my athletic endeavor. Little did I know that by the next year I’d also be sitting in the middle of that field—tripping on acid and smoking big joints as I watched others run happy and free. 

Growing up, and also as a young adult, I resided in many places all over Berkeley and Oakland. When I was younger, I actually lived in three different houses on one short block in the course of several years. My parents never owned a home in their lifetimes, never really put down any serious stakes. For me, maybe the running came natural. 

Recently, I bumped into my old gym teacher again, a man well known throughout this town and the healthiest, best looking seventy year-old I know. I told Jack about this story and thanked him much for the encouragement he’d shown me as a kid. I also let him know that I was running again on a track so important in my life, explaining about how I’d begun to weep as I labored on that course once more.  

What touched me so much that it brought me to tears was recalling how the track helped me mend; summoning memories from far and now as I circled restoring my center. In reality, the tears were for the gratitude I felt for being able to run again—to sprint and feel free and reflect on my life, changing for a moment what disturbed me. For many years, I thought I’d lost that ability for good. 

Solano to Shattuck, down Hearst to San Pablo, I’ll run to the end of the pier. As I look back at the town from the middle of the bay, the scope of the picture becomes larger; this city, this place that I love and call home, is where I was meant to be. Whoever said you can’t go back home was probably right in the end, but to return to a place that feels so good certainly seems fulfilling today. 

So it’s not blocks, or miles, or streets that I run, it’s my history passing under my soles. Nearing my house as the iPod spools on uttering Neil Young’s ballad “Country Girl,” I trot along briskly and think about Corkie and where in the world she’s gone. Suddenly back home, it occurs to me now how little my life has really changed. 


Finding Berkeley’s Center

By Ted Friedman
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:06:00 AM

In 1950s Springfield, Illinois, we often settled arguments with the absurd challenge: “If you’re right, I’ll kiss your hiney [although we pronounced it differently and spelled it with only three letters] at Fifth and Monroe.” Why there? It was the center of town, at least to us.  

Does Berkeley own such a spot, a central location holding our municipal soul, where arguments can be squared and keister kissed? Shattuck and Center, with its BART bubble, a transport hub; University Avenue with “how Berkeley can you be?,” a beeline to the bay, and good for cruising. College at Ashby is nothing more than a freeway jam-up. Think City Hall is center? Although rich in butt-kissing, it seems off the beaten path.  

The city has successfully nurtured a district of theaters, music, poetry, and art—a centrality of cultural life, starting at Shattuck and Addison. All this a mere block from the university’s future blockbuster: an art museum, a repertory cinema, and a classy hotel for university visitors—something for everyone. 

At this point, some mystic might suggest that we are our own centers, that we carry the center with us wherever we go; that each of us is the center. Someone else, more literal, might pick Center and Shattuck. It is named Center, but that would be too easy: besides, the intersection bores.  

Will Berkeley’s center, its Fifth and Monroe, please stand up? Before you make your choice, take a little stroll on Telly (if you haven’t sworn off the Avenue). Start at Bancroft, head south on the left side of the street until you reach the corner of Haste and Telegraph.  

Here you will find a confluence of Berkeley history and pathos that may qualify this intersection for centerhood. Note the “drug free zone” signs, placed almost whimsically smack dab in the center of a drug superhighway, and ironically marking the remains of the burned-out and razed Berkeley Inn, which was anything but drug-free. Like a treasure-hunt clue, the drug-free zone sign aligns with another abandoned site, Cody’s books, past center of intellectual commerce. Sometimes Cody’s door stands open for workers, revealing nothing.  

You also happen to be sandwiched between two murals, the People’s Park mural on the wall of Amoeba Records, and behind you the “mural Berkeley,” keeping watch over the weedy mound once home to Berkeley-Inners who actually resembled the people in the mural.  

While there, you would hear (because you couldn’t help hearing) live Christian missionary music performed sullenly, volume levels lowered in response to a community clamor. They’ve settled in for the long haul, knowing a good spot when they find one. But if their theology is wrong, they can just kiss our arse at Fifth and Monroe—where ever that is. 

 

Ted Friedman has lived here 40 years. Can you tell? 


Remembering Rose

By Joanne Kowalski
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:05:00 AM
Rose Eve Patterson, July 20, 1942-Dec. 17, 2007.
Rose Eve Patterson, July 20, 1942-Dec. 17, 2007.

Where, after all, do universal human rights begin? In small places, close to home...[in] the world of the individual person; the neighborhood he lives in; the school or college he attends; the factory, farm, or office where he works. Such are the places where every man, woman, and child seeks equal justice, equal opportunity, equal dignity without discrimination. Unless these rights have meaning there, they have little meaning anywhere. Without concerted citizen action to uphold them close to home, we shall look in vain for progress in the larger world. 

—Eleanor Roosevelt 

 

When I read these words on Dec. 10, the 60th anniversary of the United Nations adoption of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, the image that immediately jumped to my mind was of an older woman, her faced scared, teeth missing, dressed in multiple layers of faded, dirty clothes sitting mutely in the rain at a bus stop bench on Shattuck Ave. in downtown Berkeley. I knew her. She called herself Rose. She died last year on Dec. 17. Since then, I’ve often seen her sitting on a bench or walking just ahead of me only to have her disappear when I get close.  

I first met Rose in 1987 at a weekly free breakfast program attended by homeless folks (along with some seniors, minimum wage workers and poor students) that operated out of a local church close to my house. I knew her for 20 years. I was a witness to her life.  

She was born near the California Delta, lived all her life in East Bay towns like San Jose, Oakland, Hayward, and Castro Valley. She arrived in Berkeley in 1987 at age 45. Initially undocumented (without papers) and unable to recall basic personal information like her social security number, she had minimal access to social services and no visible means of support.  

For the next six years Rose was, as she put it, houseless, not homeless, in Berkeley. She mainly slept in bushes near churches. She felt safer there. During the day she would sit at bus stops or walk slowly up and down our streets sometimes talking to herself. She never begged but did accept gifts given by passers-by—hamburgers, sodas, coffee, Belgium chocolates, teddy bears, cigarettes, socks, coins, hard boiled eggs, and the rare but much coveted dollar bill. I was always touched by the generosity she inspired in others. Even homeless spare-changers would take from what they collected to buy her something to eat. As a member of what she called “the shopping cart culture,” Rose was photographed by tourists from all over the world.  

Rose considered herself a “peace-loving domestic humanitarian living on toothpaste and shoe strings.” She had an enthusiasm for life and an empathy for others that the dismalness of her own condition could not diminish. While she was hurt by the rejection she received from some members of our community she was even more angered when their hostility was directed at others who she saw as weaker, slower, sicker, or more defenseless than herself. 

An avid writer, she could often be found in the library where she wrote long letters (big black words on white paper) about the corruption, crime and human rights abuses she had experienced. She sent these letters to places like the United Nations, the Vatican, Amnesty International, and B’nai Brith. She mailed them using stamps purchased from money given to her on the streets.  

She refused to use her given name for fear of being traced. Despite pressures from social service agencies (including the refusal of aid), she would not apply for social security disability because, as she put it, if she were judged disabled the corrupt powers could have her declared incompetent and incapable of managing her own estates. 

Rose was not born homeless. Until age 46 she had been a suburban housewife living on funds from a trust. When she realized the attorney responsible for managing it was embezzling money she went to various authorities to try and get him stopped. The attorney however called her a “crazy lady.” He was believed by both the police and the courts. (Years later the attorney was discovered to have not only stolen from Rose but from over 30 other clients as well.) When she persisted in her claims, she was threatened and abused. Traumatized, she fled with almost nothing and wandered California for months before coming to Berkeley. Her fear of that lawyer remained so great that even 10 years later simply hearing his name could throw her into a catatonic trance.  

In 1993 Rose managed to move into a room at a local SRO paid for in large part by HUD. Initially it provided a supportive atmosphere in which she began to blossom. After a few years, however, the hotel began to deteriorate and became, as she put it, full of “covert activities” that made it “unsafe for life.” Although Rose wanted to move, all her attempts to be “relocated” to a less “lethal environment” failed due to bureaucratic regulations, incompetent administrators and lack of available alternatives. She remained at the SRO until 2004 when she was pushed out and once again resumed living on the streets. 

This time it was harder. She was 10 years older. Her health had declined. Although she now had documents, shelter stays were limited and she spent most nights outside churches terrified by visions of blood in the streets. She moved slower now, too, and often couldn’t make it to a bathroom in time. This made her feel ashamed. “There are forces,” she wrote “who want to get rid of all the old, disabled, poor who don’t fit the functioning of a stainless steel society.” 

After a year she was hospitalized with pneumonia. While in intensive care, she suffered a severe stroke and received a small inheritance. Declared by the Court to be incompetent and incapable of managing her own affairs, she was sent to a nursing home with locked doors, minimal staff and cramped three-bed rooms. Whether as a result of the stroke or the psychiatric medication she was now routinely given, her mood was calmer and more subdued although her mental furniture remained unchanged. 

Rose was a warm and loving person, a good friend, a bright spirit. She died on Dec. 17, 2007 following an operation for a broken hip. Rose Patterson dead at age 67. A canary in the Berkeley mine.


Wine Tasting Class

By Ray Saturno
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:50:00 AM

Here are the results of a recent wine tasting class held at the El Cerrito Recreation Department. This was a “blind tasting” of four California Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignons. Each member of the class had a score card with four categories; color, odor, taste and after taste. Each category had maximum of two points. With this system, a top score would be eight points. The class was led by Ray Saturno who has worked in the wine industry for 10 years and has been teaching wine tasting classes for 30 years. 

At this particular session, there were fourteen student judges. 

In first place. Clos Du Val 2005 at $26. At first taste, this wine faded fast on the palate. However, after sitting in the glass for 45 minutes, it began to open up and blossom into a delicious wine. 

In second place, Whitehall Lane 2005 $30. Odor of black cherry, mouth filling and lingering on the palate. 

Third place, Beaulieu Vineyards 2005 $14. Good flavor, easy to drink and a great value. I’ve seen this wine priced at $24.00 at other stores.  

Fourth place, White Oak 2004 $24. Full flavor with mouth filling taste and strong after taste. (This was my favorite, but the class as a whole gave this the least amount of points.) 

The best value of these four wines was the Beaulieu Vineyards 2005 at $14.  

Since all of these wines are high alcohol content, it is advised to decant them several hours before serving. 

For more information on future wine tasting classes, contact the El Cerrito Recreation Department at 559-7000. 


Louise and George, Helen and Lloyd

By Andrea Carney
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:07:00 AM

Recently sitting in our backyard, Louise knitting, me browsing through a collection of political essays called The Power to say No, the sun slowly starting its descent, Louise looked up thoughtfully and said, “You know, George, this house is awfully large for the two of us now that the children are grown.” 

“Louise,” I said petulantly, “this house was a tiny shack. The additions were done at your insistence.” 

“I know,” Louise’s chubby little hand tried to reassure me. “I love the house. I’m just saying wouldn’t it be nice to share it with someone else.” 

I really didn’t want a big confrontation with Louise. “OK,” I said reluctantly. 

So Helen and Lloyd moved into our upstairs. The two women were immediate best friends. 

Lloyd was a recently laid off computer programmer. Sitting in our living room, I said to Lloyd, “You know, Lloyd, let’s face it—we live in a society run by capitalist pigs who don’t care about their workers. That’s why you’re not working right now.” 

“Ummmm,” said Lloyd “Are you a commie?”  

“Commie!” I laughed, “It’s been a long time since I heard that term. There are no more communists!” 

“Don’t you believe it, George. They’re just wearing turbans now—but they still want to bury us and that makes them commies.” 

“You know something Lloyd—you’re an idiot.” 

“Yeah!” stammered Lloyd as he sat there pouting, “Who says so?” 

Just then the front door swung open and Helen and Louise walked in. 

“Hi, everyone,” chirped Louise. 

“Hi,” beamed Helen 

“You probably already know this, Helen, but your husband is a fascist.” I announced. 

“Come on with me,” Helen nudged Lloyd. Lloyd squinted at me suspiciously before following her upstairs. 

Lloyd seldom left the living room sitting in front of the television watching one inane T.V. show after another.  

One afternoon, I drove to the local pub to spend some time with a few of my old buddies. We watched a baseball game on television and I downed a couple pints before leaving.  

I was definitely coherent—not drunk. The light was dim—it was almost dark. I swear she ran directly in front of the car. 

I slammed into her, hit the brakes and jumped out of the car. I dropped to my knees and touched the body that now lay between my front tires. There was a little blood on her head but no overt bleeding. I was unable to find a pulse. All I could think was, “My God! I’ve killed Helen.” I ran to the house and banged on the front door. Lloyd answered in his bathrobe. 

“Lloyd, I’ve killed Helen.” I screamed. 

Together we ran to the car and looked at Helen. Lloyd was sniffling and sobbing over her corpse. “I guess we better call the police,” he managed to say. 

“No, Lloyd, I can’t,” I pleaded. “I’ve already got two DUIs. They’ll send me to prison.”  

Lloyd had dropped to his knees. “She loved me,” he sobbed. 

“Stop it, Lloyd,” I said nervously, “Help me get her body off the street.” We dragged Helen’s body to the back yard. 

“I don’t know if this is right, George,” Lloyd sobbed. 

“Help me with this, Lloyd. We’ll bury her here in the backyard. You can live forever in my house rent free. You will always be close to her and I won’t have to go to jail.” 

Lloyd looked up at me. “You know, George, I loved Helen and she adored me.” 

“I’m really sorry, Lloyd,” I said and rushed into the house to grab a couple shovels, a large flashlight and a black tarp to throw over Helen “Start digging.” I said as I picked up a shovel. 

“I can’t,” Lloyd said. So Lloyd sat there until I put down my shovel in exhaustion. Then he picked it up and did a little digging. There was no light from the house. 

“Aaaaaahhhhhh,” came a moan. 

Helen’s hand flopped out from beneath the black tarp. 

“My God! What do you think you’re doing?” Louise stood at the railing enclosing the deck and stared down upon us. 

Lloyd and I froze in the dull glow of the flashlight. Louise stormed from the deck and lifted the tarp. 

“Uuuuuuuhhhh,” moaned Helen. 

“Is, is, is she alive?” peeped Lloyd. 

Louise glared at me.  

The three of us managed to get Helen into the front room where we cleaned her up and bandaged her head. At the emergency room, they said she had a concussion and let us take her home on condition that we keep her in bed for week.  

After that our lives changed. Lloyd became much more serious about finding another job and Louise and I waited on poor Helen who was given our bed to rest up in. 

One morning, Lloyd and I sat in the kitchen having a cup of coffee before Lloyd left on a job interview in the city. I finally broke the silence. 

“You know, Lloyd, you have to admit that we, of the more liberal bent, are more concerned about humanity than you tight-fisted conservatives.” 

Lloyd stared at me and said, “Don’t preach your hypocritical moral shit to me. You were ready to bury Helen alive to save your own ass. We, of the conservative bent, are fiscally responsible enough to take care of our selves and not depend on government handouts.” 

“Yeah I saw how you take care of yourself, Lloyd,” I said contemptuously, “You were ready to bury Helen alive in order to get free rent for the rest of your life.” 

“George, I have a job interview to go to.” He left his coffee half finished, picked up his briefcase at the front door and left. 

I sat there pondering for a few minutes and then walked into the bathroom undoing my pony tail as I went. Looking in the mirror, I thought out loud, “You know, maybe it’s time I got a haircut.”  

 

 

Louise and George, Helen and Lloyd 

By Andrea Carney 

1000 

 

Recently sitting in our backyard, Louise knitting, me browsing through a collection of political essays called The Power to say No, the sun slowly starting its descent, Louise looked up thoughtfully and said, “You know, George, this house is awfully large for the two of us now that the children are grown.” 

“Louise,” I said petulantly, “this house was a tiny shack. The additions were done at your insistence.” 

“I know,” Louise’s chubby little hand tried to reassure me. “I love the house. I’m just saying wouldn’t it be nice to share it with someone else.” 

I really didn’t want a big confrontation with Louise. “OK,” I said reluctantly. 

So Helen and Lloyd moved into our upstairs. The two women were immediate best friends. 

Lloyd was a recently laid off computer programmer. Sitting in our living room, I said to Lloyd, “You know, Lloyd, let’s face it—we live in a society run by capitalist pigs who don’t care about their workers. That’s why you’re not working right now.” 

“Ummmm,” said Lloyd “Are you a commie?”  

“Commie!” I laughed, “It’s been a long time since I heard that term. There are no more communists?” 

“Don’t you believe it, George. They’re just wearing turbans now—but they still want to bury us and that makes them commies.” 

“You know something Lloyd—you’re an idiot.” 

“Yeah!” stammered Lloyd as he sat there pouting, “Who says so?” 

Just then the front door swung open and Helen and Louise walked in  

“Hi, everyone,” chirped Louise. 

“Hi,” beamed Helen 

“You probably already know this, Helen, but your husband is a fascist.” I announced. 

“Come on with me,” Helen nudged Lloyd. Lloyd squinted at me suspiciously before following her upstairs. 

Lloyd seldom left the living room sitting in front of the television watching one inane T.V. show after another.  

One afternoon, I drove to the local pub to spend some time with a few of my old buddies. We watched a baseball game on television and I downed a couple pints before leaving.  

I was definitely coherent—not drunk. The light was dim—it was almost dark. I swear she ran directly in front of the car. 

I slammed into her, hit the brakes and jumped out of the car. I dropped to my knees and touched the body that now lay between my front tires. There was a little blood on her head but no overt bleeding. I was unable to find a pulse. All I could think was, “My God! I’ve killed Helen.” I ran to the house and banged on the front door. Lloyd answered in his bathrobe. 

“Lloyd, I’ve killed Helen.” I screamed. 

Together we ran to the car and looked at Helen. Lloyd was sniffling and sobbing over her corpse. “I guess we better call the police,” he managed to say. 

“No, Lloyd, I can’t,” I pleaded. “I’ve already got two DUIs. They’ll send me to prison.”  

Lloyd had dropped to his knees. “She loved me,” he sobbed. 

“Stop it, Lloyd,” I said nervously, “Help me get her body off the street.” We dragged Helen’s body to the back yard. 

“I don’t know if this is right, George,” Lloyd sobbed. 

“Help me with this, Lloyd. We’ll bury her here in the backyard. You can live forever in my house rent free. You will always be close to her and I won’t have to go to jail.” 

Lloyd looked up at me. “You know, George, I loved Helen and she adored me.” 

“I’m really sorry, Lloyd,” I said and rushed into the house to grab a couple shovels, a large flashlight and a black tarp to throw over Helen “Start digging.” I said as I picked up a shovel. 

“I can’t,” Lloyd said. So Lloyd sat there until I put down my shovel in exhaustion. Then he picked it up and did a little digging. There was no light from the house. 

“Aaaaaahhhhhh,” came a moan. 

Helen’s hand flopped out from beneath the black tarp. 

“My God! What do you think you’re doing?” Louise stood at the railing enclosing the deck and stared down upon us. 

Lloyd and I froze in the dull glow of the flashlight. Louise stormed from the deck and lifted the tarp. 

“Uuuuuuuhhhh,” moaned Helen. 

“Is, is, is she alive?” peeped Lloyd. 

Louise glared at me.  

The three of us managed to get Helen into the front room where we cleaned her up and bandaged her head. At the emergency room, they said she had a concussion and let us take her home on condition that we keep her in bed for week.  

After that our lives changed. Lloyd became much more serious about finding another job and Louise and I waited on poor Helen who was given our bed to rest up in. 

One morning, Lloyd and I sat in the kitchen having a cup of coffee before Lloyd left on a job interview in the city. I finally broke the silence. 

“You know, Lloyd, you have to admit that we, of the more liberal bent, are more concerned about humanity than you tight-fisted conservatives.” 

Lloyd stared at me and said, “Don’t preach your hypocritical moral shit to me. You were ready to bury Helen alive to save your own ass. We, of the conservative bent, are fiscally responsible enough to take care of our selves and not depend on government handouts.” 

“Yeah I saw how you take care of yourself, Lloyd,” I said contemptuously, “You were ready to bury Helen alive in order to get free rent for the rest of your life.” 

“George, I have a job interview to go to.” He left his coffee half finished, picked up his brief case at the front door and left. 

I sat there pondering for a few minutes and then walked into the bathroom  

undoing my pony tail as I went. Looking in the mirror, I thought out loud, “You know, maybe it’s time I got a haircut.”  

 

 


Jolly Folly: Why an Atheist Keeps Christmas

By Sonja Fitz
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:41:00 AM

Local (San Jose) boy-turned-preacher Rick Warren recently made the rounds of morning talk shows to promote his latest book, The Purpose of Christmas (released in November, naturally—just in time for holiday shopping!). (Christmas too commercial, you moan? Please, that’s so last year. We’re in an economic crisis: it’s our duty to shop.) It set me thinking yet again about my giddy love for this holiday. Me, a devoted atheist and card-carrying secularist, one of the annoying holly-festooned carolers sending out handmade Christmas cards in an era of eCards and text greetings. 

The roots of the holiday are obviously Christian, although the trappings on the season are markedly less so. Officially declared a federal holiday in the U.S. in 1870 by President Grant, the holiday has devolved (in some opinions) since that time from a hallowed and somber observation of Jesus’ birth to a wintertime festival of twinkling lights and frenzied commercialism. But the slippery slope goes even farther back, as even Oliver Cromwell preached against “the heathen traditions” of Christmas carols and decorated trees, given their possibly pre-Christian origins. 

The battle between religious and secular celebrants is as old as the holiday itself, with reason: there are many schools of thought that throw doubt on the veracity of the date as that of the savior’s birth. Isaac Newton postulated that Christmas was marked to coincide with winter solstice (in ancient times celebrated on Dec. 25), and Pagan Scandinavia did celebrate a winter festival called Yule. Various sources also credit December as the month of Christ’s conception rather than birth, and several cultures celebrate Immaculate Conception Day on Dec. 8. The New Testament does not give a date for the birth of Jesus, and some scholars place it in the spring. 

The controversy drives die-hard midnight mass-goers bonkers while fueling the grog-spiked festivities of those of us who choose to celebrate minus the nativity diorama. For us, the fun part of the holidays is the surrealistic winter giddiness that lies well outside church doors. Hello, Santa! First drawn as the familiar red-coated white-bearded jolly-maker in 1863 by German American cartoonist Thomas Nast, Santa has been claimed as a resident of the North Pole, Finland, and Lapland, while in Sweden, prior to the 20th century, Santa’s gift-distribution function was served by the Yule goat (given Santa’s possibly Finnish roots, a dig at the Swedes’ historical rivals?) 

In Latin America, Christmas is marked by fireworks. In Serbia, families bring home a young tree and burn it on an open fire, thumbing their noses at the hassle, expense, and pet-choking hazard of tinsel and tree trimmings. They also spread straw over the floor and spread walnuts on it. Huh? They sound a little wacky, those Serbs, but being a Croat by heritage perhaps I am wired to find them so. There are official Declarations of Christmas Peace in Finland, as well a hunting reprieve (Merry Christmas, reindeer! So helpful on Christmas eve and so delicious the rest of the year), and the refreshing Christmas sauna. 

In World War I, there was an unofficial Christmas truce, during which soldiers placed candles on trees and sang Christmas carols. The two sides shouted greetings to each other, and there were calls for visits across the “no-man’s land” for a small exchange while recently fallen soldiers were retrieved for burial parties. Christmas has even been commemorated from space, with a reading from Genesis aboard Apollo 8. It’s perhaps a function of how religious one’s upbringing was, the extent to which religious ceremonies and beliefs give you the heebie-jeebies. I was raised to freely choose my religious—or not—belief system and as a result I don’t gag at religious imagery and recitations the way my recovering catholic friends do. (Don’t try to convert me or do any harm with your beliefs and I’ll defend your traditions with my last breath.) 

Whenever there’s a controversy about public displays of Christmas trees vs. Hannukah menorahs vs. Eid crescent moons vs. Kwaanza candles, I say display ’em all: the more celebrating, the better! In fact, why stop at Christmas? A few international holiday gems I’d love to adopt include Meeting of Cultures Day in Costa Rica (Oct. 12), Anti-fascist struggle day in Croatia (June 22), Heroes Day in Namibia (Aug. 26), and a cool quartet in Japan: Greenery Day (May 4), Marine Day (third Monday in July), Respect for the Aged Day (third Monday in September), and Health and Sports Day (second Monday in October). Iran celebrates the Nationalization of the Oil Industry, while the eminently practical Taiwanese celebrate Tomb Sweeping Day. The Russians and Fins have holidays for different first names—I myself have been campaigning to make Sonja’s day, celebrated in May in Finland, a national day off here in the U.S. Any takers? 

So, those of you who want to forgo card-giving (e.g., Seventh Day Adventists) or trees and colored lights (e.g., the Amish) in order to focus squarely on the holiday’s spiritual elements, I say go for it and enjoy. But the way I look at it, ’tis always better to light a thousand-watt rooftop Santa’s sleigh than to curse the darkness. 

 

Sonja Fitz is an Oakland resident and still the proud owner of the translucently thin lint-attracting polyester Santa’s hat she wore during December while working at the downtown Berkeley McDonald’s her senior year in high school. 

 


Poem

By Iris Crider
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:07:00 AM

Mountain cold steaming 

Snow glowing white 

Green pine tips of trees 

Touch light 

 

I sit in the sky 

and peacefully write 

I am peacefully thinking above 

I am secretly being love. 

 


Murky Waters Run Deep in the Reservoir of Memory

By Helen Rippier Wheeler
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:23:00 AM

We were something like a family for five years, 1926-1931. In a memory-snapshot of the three of us standing at the foot of my father’s little bed in his little room, in front of the closet that was so small the hangers hung flat against the wall on hooks. I have trailed my parents in there and am observing. They are arguing. He takes down a gray cardboard carton, and heaves it onto the foot of the bed. The throw causes it to bounce, and the lid comes off. Inside is a new doll, Betty, a Christmas gift and the second of my three dolls.  

Dotty Dimple, whose eyes opened and shut, was my first love. I played with Betty, but remained loyal to Dotty Dimple with the blinking eyes. Marie arrived later, a French doll with curly hair. The government provided my father a Pullman lower berth when he traveled. A French woman who was ill occupied the upper berth, and he generously offered to exchange berths. They chatted about me, and she gave him Marie.  

My father took charge of my before-dinner wash, wrapping my hands in his big ones around a towel. Later my grandfather and my uncle might drop by for an evening of man-talk in the smoke-filled living room. Conversation couldn’t have been too raunchy. I played in their midst on the carpeted floor. A tree stood in front of the fireplace, and there was a tradition of gifts that included “Florida Water,” more or less the same elixir that Scarlet O’Hara swigs down when Captain Butlah hoves into view.  

I had two “aunts” who were not relatives, dating back to when, as young women, my mother and her sister and Aunt Nellie were pre-World War I shop girls. Helen “Nellie” Apel was from their church and neighborhood, waiting to get married. Former Surgeon General C. Everett Koop pumps her up somewhat when he writes in his autobiography, “My mother, Helen Apel, grew up in a large Brooklyn family. … Well read and intelligent, she entered the work force in a secretarial/managerial capacity.” As mass transit lines pushed suburban development farther into Brooklyn, many Park Slope residents moved on and up, from renting row houses to owning freestanding homes with yards, farther out. Aunt Nellie, husband and son moved to a frame house with a porch in Flatbush and enrolled their son in private school. Married to a banker and with lots of time and taste, she always produced delightful Christmas presents. In my first photo, taken in 1926, I am wearing a gold bracelet, another charming gift from Aunt Nellie.  

Now it’s 1932-1935, the height of the Depression. We are renting on a one-block, dank, dead-end street in Stamford, Connecticut. The Rippowam River rushes by or, depending on the season, gurgles its way to Long Island Sound. I have been placed in a first grade presided over by a holier-than-thou type who punishes kids by making them crouch under her desk. The school principal throws a party in his house up on Hubbard Heights for the winners of a competition to sell the most Christmas Seals. It’s clear to me that the party-goers have unloaded those stamps on relatives. I am 6 or 7 years old, a believer in a modified Santa Claus who enters at night to place an orange and some unshelled nuts in the bottom of my mother’s stocking. His representative in a Santa costume is an OK guy at the C O Miller department store. My mother chats with a sales clerk who is blowing her nose and wiping her eyes. She lives on our block, a few houses down. Her son, my age, has recently died of “sleeping sickness.” I don’t let on that I stood in front of their house and watched as he was removed in a straw container with a lid. The following year I have pre-penicillin pneumonia. A crowd gathers to watch as I am removed to the pie wagon by two police officers who have taken over and are transporting semi-conscious me to the hospital.  

Rockefeller Center Christmas in 1939 means two things: the tree and the Radio City Music Hall show. People wait in the cold for hours to get inside—corps de ballet, fabulous organ music, the Rockettes and the O Holy Night pageant, plus a motion picture opening. It’s Balalaika, 100 percent fantasy. Nelson Eddy plays Peter Karagin, a singing Russian prince disguised as a worker who falls for a café singer secretly involved in revolutionary activities. Karagin sees Lydia Marakova (Hungarian Ilona Massey, billed as “the new Dietrich”) in St. Petersburg’s Cafe Balalaika. All the St. Pete gang turn up later at the Parisian Balalaika Night Club—one is a doorman, another the proprietor, and Karagin the wine steward.  

It was my good fortune to have middle-aged, sandy gray-haired Miss Mabel Skinner for three years of Freeport High School Spanish and a year of homeroom. Two Spanish prizes were awarded at the end of the school year, one announced in assembly in May, and the other among Commencement program awards in June 1944. When my name wasn’t called in assembly, she was so concerned for my feelings that she hinted about the still-to-come Commencement program! But Mabel Skinner introduced me to more than Spanish. . .  

I remember it this way: During Christmas vacation, she takes two other students and myself to “the city.” The Belmont movie theater, now long-gone, is located in the Times Square area, admission 30 cents until noon. Miss Skinner is wearing her black Persian lamb coat and Mexican silver jewelry. We see, without subtitles, Un Ave Sin Nido (A Bird Without a Nest) in weepy black-and-white. At the end of the day, she invites us to have dinner with her at a nearby eatery. We ingrates fail to realize that she is lonely and not eager to return to her apartment. She orders steaks and ice cream sundaes for everyone, and she eats slowly. The steak comes with French fries and pickled beets. I have never had any of these delectables before, and I discover that I like them!  

 

This essay is extracted, in part, from Wheeler’s book The Truth Must Dazzle Gradually…


Holiday Bikes for Kids

Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:02:00 AM
Richard Brenneman

Claudia Medina of the Alameda County Office of Education smiles Monday as she looks over the bikes her agency arranged as holiday gifts for youths at Berkeley’s Building Opportunities for Self-Sufficiency family shelter on Harrison Street.


The Joys of Life on Two Wheels

By Laura McCamy
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:26:00 AM

The Jack Kerouac of this generation would write a very different version of On the Road. Stalled freeways and clogged cities don’t provide the adventure he went in search of. Today’s seeker might find the freedom of the road in a different mode: on a bicycle. As I glide past stuck cars on city streets or match the speed of the freeway on the bike path that parallels I-80, I feel liberated and exhilarated—a little bit of a modern-day Kerouac. 

I started riding again as adult about 10 years ago. I woke up one day to the absurdity of driving to the swimming pool to exercise. If I wanted movement, it seemed logical to start at my front door. Two years ago Thanksgiving, I sold my truck and went car free. I haven’t looked back. My bicycle is my main mode of transit and life on two wheels gets better all the time.  

I do my grocery shopping, run errands, and pick up heavy loads with my 30-pound bike and a bit of physical effort and the occasional assistance of my bike trailer. I am not a jock—I’m a 45-year-old woman with asthma, and I am, according to Kaiser, carrying around enough extra pounds to put my health in jeopardy (feh!). If I can do it, you probably can too. The bike is a wonderful invention that allows me to travel three times as fast as I would on foot with one-third the energy expenditure, so I don’t have to be superwoman to get myself where I need to go. Sixty percent of car trips are five miles or less—a distance easily traveled by bike, especially for those of us who live in the flats of the East Bay. 

I won’t tell you that being car free is without its challenges. There were some cold, rainy days the first winter when I felt heartily sorry for myself. Over time I have built better riding muscles, gotten more confidence on the road, and found better routes to my destinations. At the beginning, I thought I would need to borrow cars often and that I wouldn’t be able to go to certain places by bike because they seemed much too far away. REI is a good example: it’s a 15-minute drive from my house by freeway. I thought I would never get there by bike. It turns out that REI is a 20-minute bike ride on a lovely flat bike boulevard. As a bonus, I spend the journey to and from smelling the aromas wafting from bread bakeries, cafes, and whatever is in bloom, rather than cursing the freeway traffic. 

When one of my neighbors went out of town this summer, she gave us the keys to her car. I thought the keys would sit unused, but several vet emergencies led us to take it out. Soon my wife and I fell back into the habit of leaning on the car. One evening, I needed to go over to Piedmont Avenue, which is slightly uphill from my Emeryville home. I was tired. I was tempted to take the car, but the difficulty of parking on Piedmont and the $60 I had just spent to fill the tank gave me pause. I decided to ride my bike. The ride took me 10 minutes—about the time it would have taken me to drive and find a place to park. When I got to my destination, my mood had turned around and I felt energized. On the way, I reflected on my impulse to use a 3,000-pound machine to transport myself a couple of miles. Nature designed me to be able to move myself from place to place under my own power. The bike gives me a little mechanical boost—just enough to get around our no longer walkable cities. 

A bike ride is part of my commute to work each day. I arrive at the office with my blood pumping (but not sweaty), and I ride off the stress of the day on my way home. I ride to the farmer’s market each weekend, sometimes taking my neighbors with me. Bike riding keeps my spirits up and my health good. The journey has become half the fun of any trip. 

The most common reaction I get when I tell people about my rolling life is concern for safety. While it’s true that bicyclists are at a disadvantage in collisions with cars, I don’t believe the solution is to drive a bigger and bigger tank-like vehicle to protect myself from all the other tanklike vehicles on the road. What if car drivers were asked to share the road responsibly? What if roads were designed to safely accommodate both cars and cyclists? In Berkeley both are true: drivers are mostly considerate to cyclists, often stopping to let me pass even when the right-of-way belongs to them. And Berkeley’s bicycle boulevards create car-lite streets where bicyclists of all ages can safely use the road.  

The main thing that makes me feel safer on the city streets is other bike riders. The more of us on the road, the more car drivers are looking for the next bike. One of the best parts of my two years of car freedom has been watching the number of cyclists on Bay Area streets grow. Even on the coldest, darkest days of the year, my way is lit by the blinky lights of my fellow bikers. We chat with each other when we’re stopped at lights; we ride together for a few blocks until our paths diverge.  

I hope to see you out there, on the streets of Berkeley or Oakland or Emeryville, loving the ride! 

 


Stolpersteine

By Laura Bushman
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:08:00 AM

 

“And these little round bronze plaques here in the center of the stones are called stolperstines,” said Barbara, our German tour guide. “They represent the names of the German Jews who were shipped off to German concentration camps by the Nazis.” 

“But why do they do that?” I gently asked.  

Barbara with her sad eyes said. “To remember the guilt and shame of our Nazi past.”  

“But why do you have to have such guilt since it was over two generations ago?” 

“Let me tell you my story,” continued Barbara. “It all started with my parents and grandparents. My father was born in Poland in a small village in the Silesia area. Our families were farmers and carpenters. He was only 16 when the war broke out and the Germans invaded Poland. Although he was a part of the Nazi youth, he never had to serve in the army. The Russian invaded in 1944 as the Germans were forced out. My dad was more afraid of the Russians than the Nazis. The Russians were mean and raped and pillaged as they went. We hid our aunt because in our village they had raped all the available women. Alfred, my father, remembers starving when there were no crops and tried to find a better life by moving to Germany.  

“During the ’50s my dad made several moves back and forth between East and West Germany before he settled in Pirmasens, Germany. This was a small community in the Alsace-Lorraine region. There he met and married my mother, Martina Bauer. Shortly we were a family of five with my brother and sister coming along in the ’60s. I was born in 1960. 

“My guilt started when I was 14 and had to spend a year studying the Nazi history of Germany. I hated being a German and I hated Germans. I was disgusted with my grandfather for being a Nazi and fighting. But most of all I wanted them to talk about the past and they refused. I can see now that they were ashamed of what they had done during the war. My depression was so great that my parents soon tired of my whining. For a graduation present from high school they gave me a ticket to actually go to the Auschwitz concentration camp in Poland and also visit my Polish relatives. 

“My visit to Auschwitz was the turning point of my life. The camp was huge and responsible for the death and misery of so many thousands of Jews. After seeing the devastation I started crying and I couldn’t stop. The kind guide didn’t know exactly what to do. I followed her from terror point to terror point. I was exhausted and emotionally drained. At the end of the tour when the rest of the group had left, Marta, that was her name, held me in her arms and gently stroked by hair and said that it was not my fault because the Jews who died didn’t know who I was or even my grandfather. It took awhile but I finally understood. The gift that took away my shame and guilt was the love that Marta showed me. She, who was of Jewish ancestry, worked as a guide was able to love me well. I felt if she could overcome her hatred of Germans I could stop hating myself. 

“So my life changed after my trip to the death camp. I went back to school and became a nurse. My parents and grandparents now feel free to talk about the past and not be shamed. After many life changes and living in other countries, I am now working in the tourist business as a guide here in Germany so that I may be an instrument of change.” 


Family Tree

By Roopa Ramamoorthi
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:27:00 AM

Few weeks ago I spent two days in Mendocino 

tucked away on California’s northern coast 

Heard the waves lashing the rocks, saw a red-breasted robin 

ready to take flight, a young seal on the rocks 

sunning itself, then setting out for a swim 

When I hiked in fern canyon  

I touched the trunk 

Of one sturdy redwood tree 

Climbing the narrow trails, inhaling the misty air 

I saw nobody else out there this Tuesday 

Only those ancient pteridophytes  

Layers upon layers of green 

Beckoning and bewitching from the other side of time 

 

I descended back to pygmy forest 

Nature’s bonsai of acorn and cypress 

Stunted trees adapted to the saline soil 

five hundred thousand years old 

The landscape here became more stark, less serene 

I stood transported to a different tree, a different time 

A photocopy in charcoal black, empty white and shades of gray 

From five full years ago. It could have been  

a Japanese artist’s ink brush drawing  

A single tree standing on a winter’s night, severe and still 

Or a botanist’s sketch of a new species 

with nodules narrowing four branches 

But no, it was my mother’s arteries 

Captured from her angiography 

In Jaslok hospital, Mumbai 

soon after her heart attack 

 

I took that image—consulted cardiologists  

In Palo Alto and San Francisco 

A month later she became ashes sprinkled in the Godavari River 

Traveling to where the Arabian sea kisses the star-studded sky 

Becoming engulfed in the universe’s eternal canopy 

A black and white sketch that still breathes in a cardboard box of mine 

Along with the torn black book of her recipes and her childhood photos 

One of her sitting in her chubby frock at one 

Another of her watering young saplings 

as a girl of eleven 

One more at twenty-four 

Holding her newborn baby 

standing next to a budding jasmine tree 

 

 

 


25 Below

By Sandra J. Whittaker
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:08:00 AM

Blazing sun dogs rise ... 

Hauling up the weak cold sun. 

Snow squeaks underfoot. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Christmas Story

By Richard Cormack
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:35:00 AM

There is a homeless man whose daily station is a bench in front of an espresso shop near the UC Berkeley campus. He’s a gray shell of a man now, crippled and aged, but his life once mattered. In his younger years he sat in a comfortable office and made decisions that affected people.  

His colleagues respected him for his knowledge and skill, and he had dignity, although he never thought about that concept much in his life before. It was when dignity was gone that it became a word for him to ponder. He once had a wife and two beautiful children, a house in a nice neighborhood in a town far away and so many years removed. He had a present full of happiness and a promising future. His family looked up to him, depended on him, and loved him for the good husband and father that he was.  

One day it was all gone, as if a pleasant dream had faded away upon a rude awakening—the family, the house, the job; even the good health he had once enjoyed. A drunk driver ran a light one winter’s evening while he and his family were returning from his little girl’s school concert. His daughter and his wife, the love of his life, were killed instantly in the violent crash. The other child, a little boy of three, hung on for several weeks but eventually he too passed away. The man was seriously hurt but he lived on, although, if he could have, he would have willed himself dead thereafter.  

His joyless life got only worse when he was unable to work any longer in a job that demanded people skills. Partial paralysis turned his comfortable stride into a stiff shuffle that was uncomfortable to watch. His broken nerves connected with only half his face, the other half bearing a permanent grimace that was startling to some. He could see it in their eyes now; he was a hideous sight to behold. He withdrew from friends and in time from society in general. For years he was able to live a modest, if secretive, existence in another town. Many sleepless nights he lay on a bed in his tiny apartment and watched reruns on a tiny black-and-white TV to fill his time and deaden his mind against painful thoughts. But eventually his savings were exhausted. He tried sleeping in local men’s shelters, but none allowed an indefinite stay. More and more frequently he slept outdoors at night, usually in parks or storefront doorways. He hated the idea of begging, but with virtually no income he eventually found himself squatting on a sidewalk, leaning against a storefront and timidly holding out a cup. He hid his face. The small change added up over time. Occasionally he would look down and see a dollar bill, or even larger once in a great while.  

The man used the money mostly to buy cheap wine. He knew he could eat at local shelters, even when there was no room for him to sleep the night. But the people there were damaged in so many different ways, and mostly they were unpleasant to be around.  

For a very few dollars he could buy a bottle of wine and numb his mind, so sleeping on a sidewalk didn’t seem so bad. Eventually he settled on a spot in the daytime that seemed to fill his cup more than others. There was a great hustle and bustle in the workday morning when successful people were headed to work and stopped for their daily caffeine to jolt them awake.  

This was usually when he did best, although most people ignored him on their way to buy their lattes and cappuccinos. A few passers-by might acknowledge him with a “how’s it going,” or, “sorry, no change,” and that sort of thing. More rarely he might gather rude comments.  

One man in particular would let him know that by his presence he was ruining the day for others. This man’s disapproval made him feel bad, but he had no choice but to grow calloused against it. Where else could he go? It was Christmas Eve morning, and the homeless man took his usual place early. His thin jacket was not nearly as warm as his sleeping bag had been on this frigid morning. Arising early was worth it for him today though.  

He expected to profit from the Christmas spirit, perhaps earning extra change on this one day when even tight-fisted patrons of the café tended to show charity toward those less fortunate. He arrived before the doors opened and sat shivering, thinking of Christmases long ago.  

“Look at the poor man, Daddy.” The sound of the small boy’s voice caused him to look up from his usual downward stare. There before him was the very image of the son he had once loved dearly in a life long ago. The tow-haired child wore a heavy wool jacket and a small fleece-lined aviator’s cap. He held his father’s hand. The father looked familiar and yet different. He realized it was the man who often spoke unkindly to him, but this morning he had a softer demeanor as he looked down at his son. “C’mon hon. I’ll buy you a hot chocolate,” he said.  

“Merry Christmas,” the child said to the man, resisting his father’s tug. With great effort, through cracked lips that rarely spoke, the man rasped, “Merry Christmas to you, sweetheart.” The little boy beamed back at him. The father, looking thoughtful now, removed a 20-dollar bill from his wallet and placed it in the man’s cup. “Merry Christmas to you, sir,” he said, before walking away with his child.  

The man felt a teardrop cross his cheek. He marveled at his ability to weep after all these years. He removed a careworn photograph from his breast pocket and smiled as he looked at the image. Merry Christmas, my sweethearts,” he whispered to himself.


The Poor Wee Birdies (spoken in Scottish brogue)

By Sandra J. Whittaker
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:09:00 AM

Oh, I would na’ be a birdie 

In cold and snow so deep... 

I would na’ be a birdie 

So hungry could na’ cheep. 

Such price to pay for wing-ed flight... 

For freedom of the air... 

Poor birdies search and huddle low 

For tiny bits of fare. 

But then when sun doth grace the sky 

In stillness’ hushed first light... 

Then price t’was paid to lift on wings 

Was worth it. 

Gone the night! 


The Timid Ones

By Lowell Moorcroft
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:36:00 AM

The Timid Ones 

 

I know they will not come in. 

My house is too vast, runs up the hillside 

Through giant rooms. They will stay 

By creeks in muslin plaits and braids,  

Or take their teachers’ books 

Forever into the shade, thinking. 

I will lose them as the forests they prefer 

Stop standing, birds for friends are gone. I know 

It is my blatant use of things they so despise,  

My city stances and my spite for 

Inept procedures they know nothing of. 

I wish I could entice these brothers, sisters 

Along. I cannot bow to them so simple but 

I want to be their father and chastise 

How like animals they remain. Yet I 

Keep dogs, own horses, a bristling car 

And feel myself purring at times. Then how 

I could run with them and finally know 

How they see my door as cave to fearful light.  

 

 

The Lady of Good Counsel 

 

We’ll sit down and be to ourselves here. 

The chairs are handmade, I needn’t check 

Broadcloth, cherrywood, labels, tuft. I tell 

You, pull up the chair to cozen literatures 

I bring you. I will keep you as mother would. 

Now tell me the part of the story I can use: 

Begin with parting waters, when you first met 

Her. Don’t say pretty and don’t say dance, but 

Only give me the light, for that was how you saw— 

That was the saint of her face. You 

Knew you could keep her, it was a sign, I 

Mean that light, just as it’s golden here 

Where we sit. It is not regarding you, it is 

Regarding that light. Remember her. She was 

The wood, the land, the streams, the birds, everything, then. 

 

 

The Dark Salon 

 

He sat in a ghost salon. 

My restaurant surrounding him, I 

Placed a white fish down the cook had braised 

For him as he sat looking. 

What was I there for? Could he 

Uncoil himself from thoughts and say 

The thank-you he had in his quiet mouth? 

A kiss, a touch…I waited. But too slowly 

He took form. Since then I sold 

The restaurant and gave out two girls 

To my husband, to myself. We are  

The happiness we can be, we dwell 

On the light air we are given. 

There is grass. A neighbor waves. I 

Wonder now what dark salon he makes 

Of someone else’s restaurant. We owners 

Breed these many tired men to feed 

And place in houses on thin beds 

Where they brood backwards, where 

Pen-strokes slowly darken them. 

My child calls from the park. Perhaps 

In the salon of dream and thought 

Where he dims, he can hear her. I hope 

She says to him the perfect, the kindly thing. 

 

 

The Environment 

 

It kept our hearts mired. In the afternoons 

When the twilight went roaming for cover, 

Hiding under the bus benches or undressing 

In the rear-view mirror, each of us rose 

From the nap of warriors, convinced 

There was a beginning, a morning, and 

A dark sleep waiting for us later, but 

Now we had the ecstasy of midday learning, 

Now we had these other lives secured to ours 

By familiar ropes, entangles, brackets of soft 

Flexible despair and longing, and the powdered bluffs 

Of some kind of however-broken poetry from 

Talented guitars, elite fixations on performance,  

Studded cars, blinding us to thinking 

Life was here, of all places, here on this posed 

Geometry of earth, and all the lines went here, 

All the points and centers and angles of enchantment 

Bent here at the elbow of love. So we drank 

The air, the wine, the gasoline, the ocean’s endless 

Taunt, saying this was a prayer that had no uttering, 

Only the touch of pressured molecules before 

Their drift fell into twilight, and, 

Looking in the mirror, we saw society staunch up 

Its rough skyscrapers and the curved hip of steel 

Bridges, whispering after us the messages from scriptured 

Glades, telling us, the animals have gone, the trees 

Are bending in, the summer is deciding to 

Yield the planet up to dark orbital foreboding, and 

For us the time is here to enter porches of cabin silence to 

Inaugurate the end, the flies and screen doors emptying the 

Bedroom where we in the quiet lay us down, 

And say it was humanity, it was the shortest of lives. 

 

 

The Middle Class 

 

I am afraid for you as tones of religion 

Begin to subscribe to something else. Churches always seemed 

Like eternally parked cars from which I failed 

To see you, ever, emerge in doorways. It is 

You I didn’t want to see into death because you 

Are a representation I helplessly conceive. 

When you disappeared instead into string quartet music, 

With well-dressed preparations followed by an empty stage, 

I was relieved this come-and-go was so much more pronounced 

Than ordinary movements. With your voice confined by the viola, 

I forgot how long it took to be reminded 

You had lived. So featureless had everything become—the trees— 

Who knows how they got there? The ocean—about which 

We could do nothing. I should have left messages in 

All of nature for you. I had no skill, I wasn’t even 

Given love of work to make one. My hands— 

They lift coffee, doorknobs dumbly meet them as 

I wait for simple openings they make into a 

Doorway where you appear—perhaps a church— ready to leave, 

Your viola case in hand. I see the 

Temperature of your face not meant for me, it is descending 

From Brahms, Dvorak. I can smell them— 

They wrote messages for you in tempo markings which 

I would not understand. You didn’t even show me— 

So impatient you were to sing in another land. 

 

 

The Wrong Path 

 

He went down corporate ways. His tongue 

Was frozen but he made copies as though trying 

To stutter speech. The gathered white of 

Tie-bound men, the laugh of a woman who 

Could stand that tired attention, took them all 

Home to minds of faded wives. He wondered: 

Home? How could it be made here? Could 

Binders, clips, wire baskets be 

Nest-pieces taken back to fabricated houses? 

And could he read these people’s scratches anymore 

On papers handed him, their own small words, 

Their poems of correction? He would like to hear 

A woman laugh; no, hear her silence looking up 

From a poem of his, a copy in her eyes, 

The only copy worth imagining. 

 

 


December

By Annie Kassof
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:10:00 AM

A few years ago I drove to OSH so my kids, at their request, could get me my Christmas present. I remember this as an especially poignant moment—sitting in my car watching the two of them walk through the crowded parking lot. I was already pretty sure what they were getting me. I’m not materialistic, but as on other holidays I’d cobbled together a list anyhow. Though far from glamorous, first on the list was a new toilet seat; something we could use at the time. 

I watched them, my 16-year-old son and my 9-year-old daughter, as they headed toward the hardware store’s glass doors. On that chilly December afternoon as I waited I suddenly, though not for the first time, saw them through Everybody Else’s eyes: a lean teenager talking, then playfully nudging the bright-eyed young girl next to him, her skin much darker than his, her braids shiny in the winter sun. She barely reached his shoulder, and the two of them appeared easy and comfortable with each other. She looked up at him with a smile that could melt an iceberg. He grinned back, said something, and she gave him a push back with her arm. I remember this.  

Do people assume they’re brother and sister, one adopted? They are so different from each other; in appearance, in temperament. But it’s my son and my daughter’s expressions and gestures that day that will stay with me.  

Sometimes I want to tell people—and I do—that my son was an ardent advocate for my daughter’s adoption back in 1999, when I myself, a single mom who knew next to nothing about transracial adoption, was on the fence about adopting my first foster child. Thankfully I did adopt her, a year and a half after she’d arrived as a 2-year-old. The familial bond that began to grow the first day she came has grown ever stronger, and on that cold winter day when I was feeling poor and somewhat depressed it was heartwarming to see the radiance that still shines around my kids. 

On Christmas morning a few days later I sat on the couch drinking coffee and watching my kids’ faces light up as they opened packages containing electronic games and clothes and books; I feigned surprise when I unwrapped the clunky package that held the blue toilet seat. Of course they’d remembered blue is my favorite color. 

We’ve been through hell and back since then.  

My son’s depression-related diagnosis the following year, 2006, isn’t as important to relate as are the small moments that helped hold my little family together then, like the day my daughter went into the hospital gift shop before we took the elevator upstairs and bought her brother a small, clear stone with the word “Hope” engraved on it.  

Or the way the next December, still recovering and regaining his spark, wit, and confidence, he used a big chunk of his own savings to buy his sister an X-Box for Christmas. The way recently when my daughter got dropped off after a visit to a friend’s house she swept right past me with barely a “Hi,” to wrap her arms around her brother’s shoulders as he worked on his computer in his room.  

“I love you,” they call to each other spontaneously and often, their voices filtering through the small house. But often my son’s eyes still look sad—as I’ve been told mine do. 

This year, my happy, resilient, now-twelve year old daughter just e-mailed us her Christmas list—complete with brand-names, colors, sizes, etc. Topping it is an expensive new cell phone, and then continues in order of priority including gift cards for clothes stores, a sewing machine, games. She’s clear about she wants. And knowing my son, he might just spring for the cell phone. But when I ask him what he wants, he says he doesn’t know. 

However, you can bet that if happiness came in a box my daughter would give it to him. I would, too. 

 


Sunday

By Jerry Cote
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:51:00 AM

sunday 

to sunday—  

that’s how  

I live; 

envisioning you 

as the week grows long. 

 

oh my… 

when I see your smile 

on those sabbath evenings 

while stupidly weakening 

—the daydream veering madly  

astray. 

 

charmed by illusion 

my impractical heart 

—a glance, a sense,  

or star-eyed chance 

in trusting sundays 

will always come. 

 

 


In Search of French: From Tahiti to Nice

By Tony and Laura Bushman
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:36:00 AM

Where can you learn French in the winter where it is warm? In Tahiti. So we set off for French Tahiti. The weather in Tahiti was sticky and hot, but the water was perfect. The yellow and red hibiscus plants were captivating and the azure ocean was stunning. We lay on the beaches, swam among the coral and admired double-breasted white-throated warblers. With all this beauty surrounding us, it was clear we would not be learning much French in Tahiti. Two weeks were up before we got fully acclimated in our search for French lessons. France seemed the better place to learn French. The trip from Tahiti to France was a three-day nightmare, which left us dizzy from lack of sleep. We were met at the airport in Nice by Christian, our host, with a very warm welcome. 

 

Nice 

We continued our learning of French in Nice. Nice is a fancy Mediterranean city made famous by the Hollywood set and the rich from the world over. We were definitely not in this group, although we were lucky with the location of our accommodation and our new French family. Our apartment was located in downtown Nice, about a five-minute walk from our French school, Lingo Planet. We truly enjoyed our family, Dagmar and Christian, our hosts, and Angela, our housemate from Bath, England. Part of our experience was getting to know our family and having dinner meals with them. 

Dagmar and Christian have been married 40 years and have a huge and lusty family. They have five children and eight grandchildren and seem to interact with them daily. Dagmar is a great cook. We never had a repeat meal in the two weeks we stayed with them. Christian is one of the perfect husbands in the world. He got up every morning and made breakfast for himself and Dagmar, and they enjoyed having a few minutes and breakfast in bed. He then cleaned up their breakfast items and fixed our breakfasts. Each evening we shared the dinner with Dagmar, Christian and Angela. Angela was such a special gift to us during our stay. She majored in music during her college days and got a job at a local Bath university, teaching English as a second language. She was in Nice to learn French so she could do a better job. She was on a six-month sabbatical and had stayed with our hosts for three months already. What made our time with her so special was that we played flute and recorder music most every evening. Because Angela was still in her 20s she would often go out with the younger generation. She was also generous with her time and helped some of her classmates with their English. 

The Lingo Planet language school, about two blocks from our apartment, was a good school. We found the perfect classes for our needs. We had homework every evening and still found time to explore the city. 

Nice has changed tremendously in the last 10 years. You would not recognize it now. Most of the big streets were torn up to put in a tram system to relieve the downtown congestion. Only a few construction barriers and holes remain. 

The best part of Nice is walking on the Promenade Anglaise. This was built in the 19th century by the English who used to winter here to get away from the London winters. It has, of course, been expanded, but there is still a feel of elegance about the beach and the Mediterranean. We had some cold and wet days while we were there, but our walks along the promenade made our stay memorable and pleasant. The one unchanging feature about Nice is that you always have to dodge the doggie droppings in spite of the fact that, every night, street workers are hosing off the sidewalks. We understand that Paris has laws requiring cleaning up after your dog, but they are unenforced. Another law that is unenforced is no smoking in public places. Smoking in restaurants is particularly distressing to nonsmokers. It ruins the whole ambience of the restaurant and the flavor of the food. 

There are a number of treasures in Nice. Although we have visited Nice several times, there is always something new to discover. The most special discovery this time was the Museum of Asiatic Art, located in the Parc Phoenix. The museum is ultramodern and feels like a Zen meditation center. The architect made the building more of a sculpture than just a museum. The museum hovers over a lake in the middle of the park, and its exhibits are divided into individual cubes, which all fit into a harmonious whole. We were fascinated by all the beautiful pieces of art. The museum was small but perfect. 

Another glorious building is the Orthodox Russian Cathedral. St. Nicolas is an easy walk from the main train station. Being in the cathedral is just like being in Russia. Sadly, Russia is suing France to get the Cathedral artifacts back again. It was built as a gift by Nicolas II early in the 20th century. Since the fall of the USSR, we understand, Moscow wants to sell off the treasures in order to pay some Russian debts. The matter is still in the French court.  

We decided to take in some real southern French entertainment on our last night in Nice. We went to the Ruhl Casino to have dinner and see the topless girly show. The French have a lot of fun at these spectaculars. We started eating at 8:30 p.m. There was a lovely three-piece band playing throughout dinner. We had a pre-show entertainment at 10 p.m. and the real show didn’t start until 11. It was a typical bare breasted Las Vegas-style show. It seems that over 90 percent of the French show consisted of American songs. The dancing was tremendous. This was our only late evening in Nice. Seems we are not up to long nights out on the town. 

 

 

 


Seeing

By Marcia Craddock
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:11:00 AM

The L.A. night was sullen. Low clouds reflected the hundreds, thousands, millions of neon lights and produced an angry red glare in the compressed sky. The air was still and the traffic noises muffled, almost muted. 

The girl? The girl was waiting, was distracted, was excited and anxious, determined to be cool, the epitome of coolness if possible. The old, blue Chevy truck rattled by, backed up, and the boy not driving, got out and sweepingly ushered her in, between him and the driver and the truck swung wide in a turn and headed west to the Pacific. The conversation? Did they exchange “hi’s”? She couldn’t remember. Everyone was super-cool, no need for conversation. 

Cruising north on the coast highway each of the three silently checked the scenery, the speed and the sky. The clouds, the fog, hung lower and not even the rolling white breakers relieved the heaviness of the night. The truck was traveling fast, so when the driver made a sharp and abrupt right turn, the three were slung sideways, and the girl against her will, made a sound. 

A mile into the canyon, another right turn and the road began to wind and incline rather steeply. No person protested but the truck made unhappy noises. Gearing down didn’t seem to make much difference, the laboring sounds continued. The girl gritted her teeth in sympathy. The road ahead was often obscured by thick patches of fog and then suddenly made clearer by thinner patches.  

How long? The time did and didn’t seem long,  

Did she blink, close her eyes? There was the brilliant moon, and an achingly blue-black sky, starless and serene. Does that sound trite? Starless and serene and achingly? But that’s how it was. That describes it, almost perfectly. But how did she feel? Aching and serene, excited and beguiled.  

The driver again, abruptness his forte, stopped the truck and backed, trying to snuggle the vehicle against a small hill. He squeezed out his door and the others went out the passenger door, which was left wide open. The hill was obviously to be climbed and the courteous males offered the girl a hand up, which she was self-obliged to refuse. It just wasn’t that steep, was it? They easily preceded her while she struggled slowly up. She noted that when they reached the crest they wordlessly parted, one going left the other right. When she reached the crest ... there was the ocean, immediately below the hill, the moonlight waves slowly rolling toward her, white and silver illuminated by that astounding moon. 

She had never known the meaning of the word “gazing” before. Now she did. She gazed and gazed till finally she understood. The “ocean” was the tops of those heavy clouds, that so oppressed those below. She sat down where she stood, the boys almost equidistant, perhaps twenty-five yards each, away from her. The girl was caught and transported and she thought, so were the boys. 

How long? That question again? Who knows how long, who understands that what those eyes experienced was timeless, eternal? Trite again? Oh, you’re probably right. Did those three understand? Perhaps, only perhaps. The illusion of flowing ocean could be summoned for seconds at a time before reverting to clouds, but either way was enchanting. 

At some click of a thought, both boys rose and headed toward her at the top of the path. They started down the hill, she following, no offered hands this time. She was independent, they acknowledged that. 

The truck rushed her down the mountain to the heavy overcast, it took her to her house. Being cool lost its importance, she waved good-bye, went in the house, closed her eyes and tried to see again.  


Last Licks

By Linda Rose
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:37:00 AM

I kissed my beloved canine companion on the lips yesterday and let her tongue lick all over me. Something I would never let her do if I had lipstick on.  

Many moons ago, a dirty, wounded, malnourished stray with a collar showed up in my backyard and decided to stay. This fluffy, blonde, wolf-like creature made herself at home, and I fed her while attempting to find her owner. We couldn’t have a dog. We already had a cat who hated dogs.  

A storm hit on the third day and it was pouring outside. The dog was soaked. So I decided to keep the back door open with the inside door to the house shut. The next morning, I woke to find her sleeping in the hallway. Something came over me and I picked her up, carried her to the tub and gave her a bath. First time I ever gave a dog a bath. My young son, who had been asking for a dog, named her Princess. 

My little digger made her first hole right after she was spayed about 14 years ago. Princess worked diligently for over an hour digging a deep hole. When she was done, she filled it with gloves, woolen hats, stuffed animals, and slightly deflated balloons from my son’s recent birthday party. She carried each item one at a time to the backyard and put them into the hole. Princess would take one or two of the cuddlies out, lick them, and put them back lovingly in the hole. She would also whimper constantly with grief and resignation. My vet said that it was a rare and little known reaction to the spaying, something that occurs only in ultra-sensitive dogs: an inner knowing that she would never conceive. 

Several months ago, Princess had a mild stroke that left her slightly debilitated. I was just thrilled that. at 16, she pulled through and was able to walk, albeit slower, down the steps to the backyard again. Every now and then she would seem disoriented, and she’d lost some of her bowel control, but she was doing well, considering.  

Last Sunday, early on Mother’s Day morning, my beloved girl had another round of excruciating seizures. This time it was severe. She could longer move her hind legs and had to drag herself, inches at a time, to move at all. Her head was contorted at a 90 degree angle. The angle of her head made it impossible for her to drink from her water bowl ... and the only way to hydrate her was to shoot water into her mouth with a syringe. Not easy to do, since she had no control over her head or mouth. I did this for three days, while we waited hopefully for a prescribed remedy to kick in. If it was working, she would show signs of improvement on the third day.  

By Wednesday, she was worse. Much worse. It was unsually hot and she was incredibly thirsty. She desperately needed to lap up big mouthfuls of water but ... she just couldn’t. Princess tried with everything she had in her, even trying to extend her tongue as long as possible to reach a bowl of water that I held right under her mouth, but the only angle that would work was literally upside down. We tried every possible method and there was just no way to get that water into her mouth... except by syringe.  

Princess did not sleep more than five minutes at a time that night because she was in so much constant pain. We slept a total of 2 hours in those three days. I sat vigil with her around the clock with that syringe, sleeping a few minutes every night. She was grateful.  

Wednesday night was torture. It took up to 30 minutes to stroke her face and talk to her sweetly to get her to shut her eyes, but every single time she did, a train passed. We get a lot of trains passing here in Berkeley. Long, loud locomotives with loud horns. All night long. I’d finally get her down into a state of repose... and another damn would go by. Or planes overhead. Or a bad muffler. And she would wake up. All night long. This is how it was. I was hearing every sound through her sensitive ears and it was agonizing. 

But still, her big, beautiful brown eyes were saying “Thank you. Thank you, mom, for keeping me alive”. And I redeemed myself. For all those times she missed her morning walk because I was too busy working. 

Thursday morning, an angel of mercy arrived to ease her though her transition. I held her, stroked her, told her how much I loved her, and let her tongue kiss me ravenously on the mouth as the sedative started to take effect. Her favorite CD, a healing instrumental called Bliss was playing softly. Unbelievably sad. But it was a relief to see my precious girl out of pain. The vet’s gentle presence was the perfect final ending.  

As Princess passed from this realm, an unusually powerful but benevolent breeze started to blow wildly.  

Water. The stuff of life. My relationship to water, being mostly water myself, is far from ordinary. I’ve been talking about water shortages, water related calamities, water wars, etc. for years. It’s beyond ironic that my own precious girl had to die thirsty. For today, my first heartbreaking day without Princess, I am drinking only with a syringe. 

Princess started digging a hole several months ago in my backyard, right below my bedroom window. Being an indulgent Cancer moon mom, I let her to bury her nose in the moist, cool soil and even bring some of it into the house. The odd shaped hole, which kept getting bigger, was soon filled with half-chewed bones, a basketball, and some dried leaves. After Dr. Smith left, I had a sudden impulse to walk over to where Princess was digging. I took the basketball out and looked at the odd shaped hole. Then it hit me. The hole was the exact size and shape of Princess’s contorted body. Crazy grief talking? Both my son and a dear friend saw it and agreed. 

Now Princess Rose is in repose in the hole she dug below my bedroom window. 

 

 


Up a Tree Without a Ladder

By Mary Spivey
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:12:00 AM

Christmas is, generationally, stressful. My parents’ mantra was “...in my day we were happy to get an orange and an apple in a stocking...” My comments “... seems like it should be practical and meaningful.” Watching television ads now seems like light years away from a Christmas culture I recognize. 

My particular memory goes back to a Pennsylvania Christmas in 1936. We lived in the country and this Christmas my mother took it upon herself to cross the frozen creek, enter the State Forest, and cut a tree. I was 7 at the time. My mother settled on the “top” of one of the trees. Now, in those days, women did not wear pants or slacks, so my mother was climbing the tree in a skirt. She was up in the tree ready to saw out the top when she spotted an approaching trapper “running his trap lines.” She hissed down to me to distract him so he would not look up in the tree. The trapper greeted me politely, passed a few words, and went on his way. He never looked up in the tree. My mother cut the top off, we dragged the tree through the snow, over frozen creek, giggling all the way. I remember my part of the fun, successfully fooling the trapper.  

Only recalling this tale later, I realize, of course, he knew my mother was in the tree. A 7-year-old girl is not out in the forest alone. Also they were both probably not supposed to be operating in State Forest lands. 

Just now I appreciate the parents’ sense of adventure and fun instead of fear and anxiety. For in 1936 we were in the depths of the Great Depression. 

 

P.S. I am bagging my yard lavender for Christmas this year.


The Ache of Christmas

By Dorothy V. Benson
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:37:00 AM

Do I remember turkey and all the trimmings 

when I was small and knew the bracing taste of hope, 

like mountain water? 

One bird, brought to the door 

by some unnamed agency. No more. 

But just as well, for how my mother loathed the unrequested blind charity. 

Where did they get our name? 

I see the accusation yet in Mama’s angry eyes. 

 

Do I remember large boxes beckoning in joyous colors 

and tied with ribbon curling in a pile at center top? 

Boxes roomy enough to cage a basketball for my brother? 

Or hide a baby doll that cried once, briefly, 

when you turned her over, 

or went to sleep when you laid her down? 

No. Without specifying, memory counts the presents few 

and meager. 

Pa might get a tie, Ma a pair of stockings 

left unexpectantly by a relative. 

From us children they received Christmas cards 

made out of cut-outs from old magazines, 

a child’s fevered determination, and flour paste. 

 

Remembering childhood Christmases 

I see through the mists of time 

hope’s reservoir diminished by disappointment, 

falling away to resignation. 

Only now have I thought to ask about my parents, 

how, the luxury of giving failed them, 

they must have sorrowed 

for merely not having. 

 

 


The Little Engine That Wanted To

By Kathy Horn
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:12:00 AM
The Little Engine
By Kathy Horn
The Little Engine

1955. Little Girl dreams Roller Coaster lives outside her bedroom window.  

What a fun Dream! 

When Girl is Woman, She, Man and Child go live on Top of the World in the Eucalyptus woods. Man makes firewood from trees hurt by the Freeze of ‘72. Family camps out, then becomes the Boxcar Family. Old Watertruck hauls in water. Propane brings lights, stove, fridge and hot water. Slowly, simple structures appear. And a Baby!  

One day, Family drives to Richmond Brickyard. The huge domed brick Kilns are about to be demolished! Man pays to go into the Big Dark, and pushes unfired bricks off the little railcars. Crane pulls them out and loads them into Dump Truck. They all drive home happy. 

It is time to build Little Engine! Kids will have a train to ride on Top of the World! Man uses Friend’s shop, cutting many, many pieces of steel. He welds shapes together with Torch. He adds a good Datsun motor, real cast railroad wheels and silver and brass decorations. Back home, Mill cuts wooden ties from logs. Man makes jig to bend rail into curves, pounds spikes to hold the rails 15” apart. 

Six years later: Big Day!! Dump Truck drives Locomotive home! Woman stands in the driveway, watching it come up the hill. Oh My Goodness! Such a large piece of Jewelry!!  

A beautiful Dream. 

Crane carefully moves Little Engine onto her new Track. She fits perfectly! Engine is so Happy!! She loves Man squirting oil in all her joints, firing her up for a run around Quaint House, Redwoods and Oaks. White flags fluttering, she lets Cowcatcher point the way. Cherub beats his drum in front of Smokestack. Little Engine loves hearing Kids ring her Bell, laughing.  

She kind of likes scary trestle.  

Night Runs with Moon and Stars are enchanting! But then again, she is not too sure about those tall shadowy Totems standing amongst the Trees! Or Redwood Cougar always leaping off that Roof! Raccoon and Skunk nose around, looking for tidbits. Liberty Bell barely bongs when Owl swoops in to perch. Fox steers clear of Bobcat. Gopher and friends dig tunnels under Track. Deer Family munches tasty flowers. 

Bright Day Again! Opossum stays safe in Burrow across the road, far from Little Iron Horse chug-chugging around at any odd moment. Opossum does not like surprises! Girl and Boy bravely head off for book learning. Loco and Speeder gossip and reminisce, whiling away the lonely hours. Privately, Loco wonders, “Why DO Kids love racing around on MY track in that old white Speeder??!! I’m SO much prettier and more dignified...”  

Burro brays, Ducks quack, “I see You!” when new Little Folks arrive. They climb on Flatcars and journey past Gypsy Jeep, Supersleeper, Boomtruck and Lumber Mill...Blast Booth, Bing Crosleys... Fageol, Jungle Cabin, Ecobarn II... and Aermotor catching the breeze up top the biggest, baddest tree. Now, just Who is playfully pelting the passengers with Eucnuts from the Lone Star Observatorium??!  

Cedargirl calmly pours silverwater into her Pond. 

Little Engine loves it when Woman hangs the Christmas wreath on her Headlamp, or plants marigolds in her Windowboxes. When Man gives Kids brushes, they paint graffiti on her Caboose. It tickles!  

What a funny Dream! 

Some mornings, slow motion ocean Fog silently lays in, muffling World below.  

One day, Earth quakes, Bridge breaks, Trees shake, “sh-sh-sh-sh” so faint.  

Winter storms bend trees. A big old Euc smashes Pickup.  

One Indian Summer, Fire rages! Immense black smoke across Valley. Sirens! Sirens! Planes dropping red! Huge pieces of houses rise up in the heat. All day. All night. Who died? 

Other tragedies happen, or amazingly, do not. The list of blessed Coincidences is much longer.  

2001. Clock chimes emphatically: “It’s only a Matter of Time!” Shark roars up driveway, yelling. Friends always said Family would be Grandfathered In. They love Grandfathers. That sounds fine. 

But soon, Family sadly takes everything out of Shop, Barn, House and Studio. Friends come by to help and say “Good Bye.” Off come windows and doors! There is so much racket as buildings are taken apart or crunched! What is happening??  

Crane lifts off the roof panels, then the walls of Sibley’s former Firestation 22, now Family’s Redwood livingroom. Crane lays them flat on Trailer Of The Future. Last, Family gives away Housetrailer Haven on Craigslist. It goes to Mountains with Cat for company.  

Man starts pulling up spikes and stacking Rail!! Soon, Little Engine is all alone on not enough track to go Any Where, certainly not around the Top of the World. Is Family going to leave Little Engine all by herself in the Sky?? 

Such Not a good Dream!! 

Crane rumbles over and carefully slings Engine and track section up through the air, gently setting them down onto another Trailer. Heavy chains clamp down to hold her safely. Engine rides down the same road she had come up so long ago, onto Free Way, through the Tunnel, to Martinez. Man parks her, and wraps her with a tarp. 

It is so dark in there! But she can hear Aunty Tanker and Uncle Diesel rolling past on Big Track nearby every day. If only Man would unwrap this dark coccoon so she could at least watch! 

Nobody comes. 

Nobody hangs the Christmas Wreath on Little Engine. Nobody plants Marigolds in her Windowboxes. Engine wants Track back, Scenery and Kids!! Little Engine wants to Roll! 

Grandkids ask about Engine. Man and Woman look at each other and shake their heads, “Not Yet.” “We don’t know.” 

And they wonder: Maybe there is a new Friend they have not met yet. Maybe Some Body reading this knows a new Place with Scenery and nearby Kids, where Man, Woman and Little Engine can make a New Dream Happen. 

They wonder. 

 


Come Walk With Me

By Kay Y. Wehner
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:38:00 AM

Come walk with me, 

I need to hear the red-winged blackbirds sing, 

They’re swinging on the rushes by the Bay. 

 

Something has chased my mockingbird away, 

He sang up the Sun and comforted the night, 

I miss his song. 

 

The earth is bare, 

Leaves are falling, and Time is stretched to share, 

Where is his song? 

 

Come walk with me, 

Help me to find the red-winged blackbirds’ songs, 

Their secret reassures me all is well. 

 

 

 


The Little Christmas Tree That Almost Didn’t Get to Celebrate Christmas

By James K. Sayre
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:14:00 AM

Once, not long ago, there was a small Douglas Fir tree named Sarah that grew up on a Christmas tree farm near Woodland, Washington. When she was 5 years old, she was already almost six feet tall, so the owners of the Christmas Tree Farm decided to have Sarah and all her identically-genetically-cloned brothers and sisters cut down and shipped to California in early December. 

Sarah was tightly wrapped with plastic string to protect her branches during shipment. Sarah and 83 of her siblings were loaded onto a large truck-trailer.  

The drive from Washington State down to Northern California took two days, with the driver spending the night in a motel in Medford, Oregon, just north of the Siskiyou Mountains, which straddle the Interstate 5 route. There had been a snow storm that had come through the day before, so the drive through the Siskiyou Mountains the next day was properly wintry white. Sarah and her siblings arrived in Danville, Calif. where they were unloaded and set out for sale in a vacant lot one block west of the main street. Gradually through the month of December the Christmas trees were sold off. 

As Christmas Eve approached, only a few trees remained unsold on the lot. Sarah became quite worried: she feared that she was not attractive enough to attract a buyer (or even to get unwrapped for that matter). At 8 p.m. on Christmas Eve, the men selling the trees decided to close up shop and go home. Sarah was the only tree that hadn’t been sold. She was the only tree that wasn’t going to be decorated on Christmas Eve. She was the only tree that would not have presents beneath her branches on Christmas Day. She was heart-broken.  

On Christmas Day, a man came to the lot in the morning and dragged Sarah out of the lot and unceremoniously tossed her into a large dumpster, which was located just behind the vacant lot. Sarah was desolate. Was there no hope for her to fulfill her function as a Christmas tree? 

Across the Bay from Danville, there lived a somewhat strange, middle-aged man named Jerry, who loved Christmas. Although he was not a Christian, he still loved Christmas time with the carols, the lights and the festive foods. He usually baked a batch of fruitcakes, but this year he experimented with steaming a Christmas Plum Pudding. There are not any “plums” in a Plum Pudding. Actually, “plum” is an Old English word for raisin, so a Plum Pudding is actually a raisin pudding. Puddings were steamed in England for hundreds of years, before economical baking ovens were available to the average family. The Plum Pudding is apparently the ancestor of the fruitcake. Jerry is currently trying to investigate this connection, but that is another story... 

Jerry was somewhat of a tightwad, too. He loved Christmas; he loved Christmas trees; but to save money, he usually found a used Christmas tree that someone else had discarded after Christmas Day. The Christmas season always went by much too quickly for Jerry. To stretch out Christmas to what he deemed its proper length, say, 63 days or so, he would start listening to Christmas carols in early December. Of course, nowadays, department stores begin their Christmas displays just after Halloween, but he didn’t spend much time in retail stores.  

This year, on the fourth day of Christmas, Dec. 28, he was driving around and ended up in Danville. He went to Danville to visit the town’s thrift shop, but it was closed for the holidays. It was noon and his lunch time, so he went to find a place to have a small picnic lunch. It was a beautiful winter day in Danville, with the sun shining and the temperature up into the 50s, so that a jacket was not needed for sitting outside. Jerry parked his old car next to the vacant lot, which was located only a block behind the Old Danville Historical District.  

The lot was sheltered by a large oak tree. He noticed a large dumpster parked nearby. It had a Christmas tree sticking out of one end. He made a mental note to check it out after lunch. The large oak tree was filled with large cawing crows and smaller chirping blackbirds. Jerry shelled some newly purchased pistachio nuts and threw them out for the birds, but they were seemingly not interested. The ground of the vacant lot smelled nice, because the trimmings of the Christmas trees that had been sold were scattered around.  

After lunch, Jerry walked over to the dumpster, but its sides were so high that he could not see into the interior. 

He drove his old car over and backed it up against the side of the dumpster. He then climbed up on his car’s trunk and peered down into the dumpster. It was then that he saw a second Christmas tree. This one was all wrapped up, having never been unpacked for display. Jerry realized that the wrapped tree would fit nicely into the back seat of his car, so he dragged it out of the dumpster, after removing two large plastic bags of trash that were resting on top of the tree.  

Sarah, the wrapped Christmas tree, was in Seventh Heaven. She knew instinctively that she was going to a good home, where she would be properly decorated as a traditional Christmas tree. Sure enough, an hour later, Sarah was carried up into Jerry’s apartment, where she was placed into a large pot of water sweetened with sugar. What a delight. Sugar water. Electric colored Christmas lights. Christmas balls. Icicles. Five black-eyed and black-nosed white stuffed Christmas bears sat on top of the sofa. A long Christmas celebration lay ahead. Sarah and Jerry were very happy together. 


Bikini

By Esther Stone
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:38:00 AM

I confess. Guilty as charged. I’m an inveterate and unrepentant pack rat.  

Periodically I determine to weed out some of my excess possessions, but these efforts are, for the most part, singularly unsuccessful 

An example is a skimpy red-, yellow- and blue-striped bikini I purchased in a little shop on a side street in the resort town of Cascais, Portugal in 1976.  

 

Portugal was the final destination of a six-week trip to Europe my husband and I took that year. We had started in London, continued to Paris, and then on to the Riviera. We spent three nights in a very undistinguished hotel in Nice. It was a cheap, dingy hole-in-the-wall, but it was in a prime location: just a block from the beach, and around the corner from the legendary Negresco Hotel, a splendid fin de siecle edifice with its distinctive onion-shaped dome. 

After sightseeing in the area for two days, we decided to spend a relaxing day at the beach. We walked down to the Negresco’s swim club, paid a small entrance fee for chairs and towels, and were soon settled in our little place in the sun. 

We looked around. The sunbathers who surrounded us were quite a chic and elegant assemblage. The women had sleek, shapely bodies, onto which they frequently applied suntan lotion, in a kind of ritual dance. They seemed preoccupied with this task, and seemed, too, to be fully aware that they were on display. They were all wearing bikinis, of course, and nearly all were also wearing thin gold chains which rested seductively on their hipbones. Their male companions, meanwhile, sat nonchalantly by. 

Further down the beach were other sunbathers, not nearly so sleek and shiny. There were old women, fat women, dumpy women, women with other women, women with their grandchildren, women by themselves—all wearing bikinis. Unlike here at home, no one seemed self-conscious about any real or imagined bodily imperfections. 

As I sat there, taking in the scene, I soon noticed that there seemed to be a certain etiquette which applied to the proper wearing of the bikini. When a woman was seated, apparently, it was not inappropriate for her to remove the top of her bikini and go topless. But if she were to get up to swim in the sea, the top went back on. 

There was one instance in which this took on a particularly humorous dimension. A woman sitting near me was, unsurprisingly, topless. She was throwing a ball for her pet poodle to retrieve. She would throw the ball; the dog would retrieve it. She’d throw the ball again, and again the dog would retrieve it. It was pure theatre!—particularly so when three Japanese tourists came strolling down the beach, and trained the telephoto lenses of their cameras on her! 

After a while I realized that I, too, was part of this little tableau. I started to feel conspicuous in my one-piece American bathing suit, and I decided to remedy the situation.  

My first step was to discretely unhook the strap from the top of my bathing suit, rendering me strapless. 

This sufficed for a while, but did not sufficiently deal with the situation. Indeed, I felt like a Hemingway hero, asking myself, “Do I dare?” I did.  

As the afternoon wore on, in very teeny increments, I lowered the top of my suit, at the rate of about a quarter-inch per half-hour, until, by afternoon’s end, I achieved a state of total toplessness! I have a picture at home to prove the veracity of this statement, but that shall remain privileged property, if you please! 

 

This little tale of my adventure on the beach at Nice is all preamble for the purchase of my bikini in Cascais a few days later. 

After leaving Nice we proceeded to Avignon and Barcelona by train. I bought a spectacular wide-brimmed straw hat in a little shop near the cathedral in Barcelona, and by the time I arrived in Cascais I was primed to get a bikini to go with it!  

The Revolution of 1975 in Portugal had just barely ended, and we were among the very few tourists in that country at that time, and prices were very low. We stayed in a charming small hotel, the former home of a duke, and spent 11 blissful days in this unspoiled town just north of Lisbon.  

Most mornings we wandered around the area on foot, and spent most afternoons by the magnificent pool of the Estoril Sol Hotel, just down the road from where we were staying. I still remember the absolute luxury of it all—lying on a lounge chair, attired in my bikini and my big straw hat, cigarette in hand. At our beckoning, attentive waiters would bring our lunch—trays of sandwiches and “vino verde,” the light local wine— and all for little more than pennies. It was all paradisiacal. 

 

I was never daring enough to wear the bikini here at home after I left Portugal. I never even tried it on. However, when, in one of my recent efforts to clean house I came across it, I decided to do so. 

As I had anticipated, the top barely covered the additional expanse of flesh I have accumulated since that earlier period. And the bottom had entirely given up the ghost: the elastic had completely disintegrated, and the material sagged in my hand. I chose not to inflect the additional indignity upon myself of actually trying it on!  

But neither did I cast it aside. Because it still has the power to evoke memories in me of that delightful interlude in my life, my ancient bikini continues to reside among my possessions!  


Flamenco Puro

By Ruth Guthartz
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:14:00 AM

Because the seasons changed early that year, I chose an early spring cleaning. Armed with large plastic bags, a brown cardboard carton and a dust cloth, I tackled my bedroom closet. Determined to be sensible and unsentimental, I started by tossing away much of the footwear.  

Then I lifted each hanger off the horizontal rod and checked each piece of clothing: Did I want to keep it or discard it? No matter that I recalled people, places and events tied to each; no matter that I almost cried at times, that I laughed or sighed about some of the recollections. I placed the discards in the plastic bag before moving on to the next item. And there in the crush of skirts at one side of the closet, there was a red sweatshirt. It looked clean, and had a cozy and comfortable feel when I rubbed it against my cheek. A closer look at the woman who danced across the shirt’s front revealed her long black, low-necked and ruffled dress; below her feet, yellow letters spelled out in large uneven letters, “Flamenco Puro.” Yes, yes, pure flamenco.  

The soft cotton shirt in my hand, I sat down on the floor and recalled the San Francisco performance that the troupe from Broadway, had given in—was it ’87? or possibly ’88? My son David and I, along with several of the local flamenco company, Flamenco Vivo, for which he’s the guitarist, had been part of the large audience who snapped our fingers, cheered, called out “Ole” stamped our feet, clapped palmas and yelled out Spanish phrases to encourage the dancers. Everyone joined in the excitement that evening; the music, the dancers and the cantaor aroused all of us. Close to frenzy, the atmosphere echoed off the walls of the theater. At the intermission, milling about in the lobby, we passed a table where colorful fans, programs and sweatshirts were on sale. That was where David bought this sweatshirt for me.  

The memorable performance over, David, the dancers Sarita, Ricardo, Alicia, Carla and others of the local Flamenco Vivo company, along with me, made our way to a bar to round out the evening. After reviewing the performance, enjoying gossip and laughter, and after one piña colada, I looked forward to home and a good night’s sleep.  

With my cat curled up beside me, I reflected on that spine-tingling evening. Was it the music and dance? The alcohol? Or Ricardo? Or was it the never before-known aspirations for the stage, the cravings to be in the spotlight that produced my dream? Decades after Flamenco Puro’s performance, the red sweatshirt in my lap, I recalled my dream that night, that dream when I danced with Ricardo the flamenco dancer. 

Ricardo: tall, jet-black wavy hair, swarthy and lean. He wore a white ruffled, tapered shirt with a brief black vest over it. High-waisted black trousers hugged his narrow hips. Not a wrinkle, not a crease marred the perfection of fit between suit and body. Shiny black, low-heeled shoes completed the ensemble of light and dark. It reflected the music itself: a hidden guitarist’s strings called up the haunting folk music of Madrid, Toledo and Seville, alternately lively, even wild, and sometimes cheerfully breezy but always heart-breaking. 

When Ricardo twirled, turned his back to me, I saw his firm, fetching buttocks. I thought he might have been carved of stone, they looked so hard. 

So there I was, up on the stage with him, wearing a long colorful dress with a low-cut, revealing bodice, spinning, whirling and clicking tipos, (that is, snapping my fingers) and clicking my heels in time to the music’s rhythm. Ricardo sang some of the lyrics to a ballad as we smiled at one another, turned away and returned, over and over again. I felt breathless, the sweat pooled at my hairline, I heard voices calling out “Ole.” 

The drumming of our heels, the music’s passionate beat, the clapping of unseen spectators rose to a crescendo. Dizzy, I reached for Ricarrdo to steady myself. My fingers groped, wanting to clutch at his waist but there was no give to hang onto. I clawed at the air until my hand slid down. I tried to clutch those bewitching buns but they were so tight, not even Sir Edmund Hilary could have gotten hold of that polished marble sculpture. I stumbled and moaned softly, ready to fall into a heap at Ricardo’s feet. But he seized my arm, swept me up toward him for a second, then flung me across the stage into the wings where I landed on my feet. 

And woke up on the floor with my cat licking my face. I laughed at my one-night dream tryst with Ricardo. 

Sitting on my bedroom floor, the red sweatshirt on my lap, I wonder where Flamenco Puro is and I think of Ricardo. It’s been many years since I’ve seen him but I still think of him fondly. And now decades later, I look back at that woman who dreamed of being a flamenco dancer for one night, who only in her dreams could put that into action. I put away the red sweatshirt. I’d save it for a grandchild.


Mrs. Perle

By Dana Chernack
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:39:00 AM

Mrs. Perle, my sixth-grade teacher, was an unnatural woman given to transports. Her transports had teeth, rather fangs. She was certainly venomous. Mrs. Perle tapped into something twisted within us all. Are we not all sadists and masochists in various degrees at various times? Yet, we hold ourselves back; we are self-aware, or aware of God. Mrs. Perle is mostly likely in hell now, that part reserved for petty tyrants, the ones without a saleable ideology. 

Mrs. Perle gave us rules to follow, then a posture, finally a face, a particular smile, a mask to be put on. You submitted. If not, you were ridiculed, reviled, humiliated and mocked, pointed at, laughed at, became one of them: the despised. One by one, my classmates put on the mask, first the usual suspects, the usual suck-ups. Then all the girls. The girls were more practiced in hiding behind a smile. Then Roger, then Dennis, then Paul succumbed, then the floodgates. How they beamed, the mask, eyes bulging out of their heads. The fake smile. That was what Mrs. Perle wanted. A real smile might turn on her, the class laughing au naturalle, in her face. Then, there were just four of us. Myself, Irwin Katz, David Laks and Tommy Glass. We weren’t heroes; the stakes were not great. We didn’t even have the nerve to split, leave the room when she became weird, nothing much would’ve happened to us, I’m sure. The four of us would do everything she would ask, except put on that mask. 

The last election of the school year. Class representative or some such nonsense. So confident was Mrs. Perle, she put the election in the hands of a student as she left the room. We elected Tommy Glass. Mrs. Perle, upon returning to the classroom, overturned the election, explained the qualifications needed in a class representative, explained the hefty stakes involved. We had another vote. Tommy lost. 

After 50 years, the lessons are the same, but now the stakes are existential. Perhaps Tolstoy was right: “God sees the truth, but waits.” Waits! He sleeps! Although even now as I speak, he may be stretching, turning off the snooze alarm, putting on his boots, getting ready to re-enter history. Perhaps an age of miracles awaits us. 


Winter Clouds Over Berkeley Marina

Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:03:00 AM
Richard Brenneman

Brisk, cold winter winds kept the San Francisco Bay waters choppy off the Berkeley Marina, just north of one of the two sites proposed for a ferry terminal.


A Box of Hope Tied with a Ribbon of Patience

By Pamela McNab
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:42:00 AM

I told my husband I wanted to skip Christmas that year; all I wanted was a box of hope tied with a ribbon of patience.  

I phoned the kids in New York. “I have bad news—your dad’s had a stroke. He’s paralyzed on the right side of his body. He can’t walk or talk on the phone; his speech is very slurred.” I assured them that he’d recover, but the doctors couldn’t predict if he’d ever be able to walk or use his right hand again. 

Joanie and Alice were both in New York; Alice was in graduate school and Joanie had just started a new job. Neither could fly back to Berkeley immediately. 

Alice said, “We’ll come home as soon as the Christmas break begins.” 

Six weeks later I heard a taxi pull up in front of the house. 

“The kids are here!” I cried, and threw open the front door.  

David’s face broke out in a huge lopsided smile. 

The girls hauled their luggage down the front steps and into the foyer. The living room was unrecognizable. A plywood ramp with heavy railings descended into the sunken living room. All the furniture was pushed up against the walls. A bed was installed where the couch used to be and David, in a wheelchair, sat where the lounge chair had been. The coffee table was littered with pill bottles, syringes, a blood pressure cuff, eating utensils with big handles, and clothes.  

The girls eyed the ramp and living room, ran down the plywood runway, kissed and embraced him. Tears ran down his face. 

I brought in lunch, placed David’s on a little table with wheels, and slid it up against the wheelchair. The girls pretended to eat but were watching their Dad, who was working to swallow properly after each bite. 

David said, “Something’s missing: ketchup, that’s it, ketchup.” 

I fetched the bottle and started to open it. 

He protested, “No, let me try it.”  

He set the bottle down in front of him and considered how to open it with one hand. He tried to unscrew the top with his teeth-no luck. With his good left hand, he laid the bottle on its side then picked up the dead-weight right hand and carefully arranged each finger around it like a grip tool. Spastically, involuntarily, his fingers tightened to a viselike clutch. With the bottle stabilized he unscrewed the top with his left hand. Then he tried to release the vise grip of the right. 

“All the little things that take two hands,” he said as he pried his fingers off the bottle, one at a time.  

Finally Joanie said, “So, I see you don’t have a Christmas tree.”  

“No,” I said, “I just don’t have the energy, and besides, where would we put it?” 

“But you can’t have Christmas without a tree,” Alice said, glancing at her sister. 

I just shrugged. 

The next day, I asked the girls to go to the drugstore to pick up a prescription. They came home with a small tree. 

“It was the last one left,” they said triumphantly. 

I could see why, but then I glanced at David’s face, and seeing a big wide grin, I smiled, too. It looked like a Charlie Brown Christmas tree: tired, lopsided, and frazzled. Like me. The girls set it up in the living room, wedged between the plywood ramp and the bed. The smell of pine needles mixed with the smell of plywood sawdust.  

David’s brain had only a brief window to heal itself before the damage would be permanent. I imagined the little nerve fibers in his brain reaching out, trying to knit together and heal; if they couldn’t find each other soon, they never would.  

David still couldn’t move his right hand although his walking had improved with physical therapy. Each day he held onto the railing of the ramp with his left hand, his right arm hanging limply at his side, and practiced taking a few steps. As Christmas approached, he was able to lift his right leg a little higher and he went a little farther. I sat next to him during the day, holding and stroking his hand, warm but strangely flaccid. I thought if I touched and caressed it, the nerve fibers in his brain might be stimulated to heal. But that Christmas day, I realized I’d been stroking his hand for weeks and had felt nothing in return except for a spastic response, like a Venus fly trap clamping shut instinctually when an insect touches it. I had to admit it that day—his hand wasn’t ever going to work again. He’d have to give up his medical practice. I didn’t know how I was going to look after him. I had a full time job. 

On Christmas morning we lit a Presto-log in the fireplace, put on some Christmas music and exchanged gifts. After we opened the presents, David announced, “I’m going to try to walk upstairs.”  

The girls and I looked at each other, scared he might fall. “I feel I can do it—let me try.”  

I wheeled him to the bottom of the stairs leading up to the bedrooms. We’d installed black iron railings along both sides of the staircase. He grasped the railing and pulled himself up out of the wheelchair. Then he slowly placed his left foot onto the first step, waited, and then pulled the right foot up beside it. I inched along behind him, ready to catch him if he fell. The girls stood at the bottom of the stairwell holding their breath. When he reached the top landing, he yelled out triumphantly, “I did it!”  

It wasn’t exactly a Christmas miracle, but it would do for us.  


Season of Hope

By Mary Wheeler
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:16:00 AM

Christmas, for me, is the season of hope, as I believe it is for many people. Historically, it started with the Solstice, when people celebrated the return of longer days and more sunlight. Bonfires were lit to represent hope of new light and warmth. With Christianity came the hope of a new birth: shepherds and wisemen following a star in hopes of greeting a new king. Now, for children, there is Santa Claus. What child does not await Christmas morning with hope and excitement that the long-wished for toy is lying wrapped under the tree? 

I feel a renewed hope every year beginning in November. It is an irrational hope that springs up unbidden and without discernible cause. It is born of the childhood wait for Santa. I used to love to lie under the tree just looking at the presents, each one representing a surprise, and thus a hope of something new and different. As a teenager, my hopes became less tangible and less attainable, but I hoped nonetheless, and was often disappointed when Christmas came and went and nothing in my life had changed. I outgrew the disappointment but not the hope. Now I no longer expect a miracle but the hope arises unbidden just the same. Not hope for anything in particular, just hope. 

This year, life has been complicated, too busy, and full of problems, both personal and worldwide. But my December hope and optimism springs up at odd moments. My class is impossible this year; they refuse to learn. But then they sing “Deck the Halls” in tune and my heart gladdens. I am driving home from visiting my parents in the nursing home, where my mother lies in bed with a broken hip. I drive along Telegraph and suddenly there are holiday lights everywhere and my heart fills with gladness. I leave a school board meeting, where drastic cuts are being threatened, but I am listening to the Messiah on the car stereo and the strains of “For unto us” drown out the economic woes. I read in the paper of car crashes, murders, war and corruption, so I take a break and go out to see Shadi’s display or the Tilden merry-go-round and my Christmas spirit returns.  

There are Scrooges who would say, “What right have you to be merry?” To them, I answer, “Why not?” Why not spend a month with hope, looking for the good things around one, feeling one’s spirit rise with song or light? And so, I wish all of you a season of hope and goodwill. And may it continue throughout the new year. 


Election Haiku Diary

By Judy Wells
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:42:00 AM

Feb. 1 

Bright sun after storm. 

Next one—Tuesday. Barack or 

Hillary Clinton? 

 

Feb. 5 

Stevie Wonder loves 

me. Wants me to vote Barack. 

I vote Hillary! 

 

June 6 

I miss Hillary 

in the news. Her bright smile cheered 

me, inspired courage. 

 

July 1 

President campaign 

moves from woman candidate 

to looking at wife. 

 

Aug. 25 

Hillary, golden 

in orange pantsuit, outshines 

all at DNC. 

 

Sept. 3 

I fought for women’s 

cause but am appalled by right- 

wing Sarah Palin. 

 

Nov. 4 

First Black President— 

Barack Obama. I weep 

tears of joy, disbelief. 

 

Nov. 5 

Pumpkin grinning with 

OBAMA spelled in its smile— 

Hold your head up high! 

 

Nov. 23 

Hillary Clinton— 

New Secretary of State. 

Does she take dictation? 

 

Nov. 26 

Obama wants us 

to be hopeful. Curmudgeons, 

your time is over! 

 

 

 

 


Vanguard City

By Dana Chernack
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:16:00 AM

We moved to Vanguard City, Calif., in June of 1973. Brooklyn had turned toxic. We came to V.C., as we referred to it back then, to be with the other dope smokin’ Godless Commies. We came to have a great time and build a just society. 

In Vanguard City, I partied, dealt drugs all through the ’70s. Spring of 1980, I went to rehab, cleaned up. For the next 30 years I labored, rendered anonymous by occupation. I was a beast of burden, an untouchable, pushing a lawnmower over the manicured hills and dales of Alta Vista, California, just to the east of Vanguard City. 

Then my wife died. We had been very close. She died a hideous death, a medical malfeasance suit, leaving me more than enough to get by on. 

Fifty-five years old, bereft of companionship and short on purpose, I joined a fiction writing group which met in the Vanguard City Senior Center. I’d been in the group two years when Chester Ague showed up. Chester Ague was our resident alien, not that he was from Mexico or Zanzibar or Patagonia, or Mars. Well perhaps Mars. Perhaps he was from the bowels of the earth; maybe that would explain him. At first, I took him under my wing. In a city full of the purposefully weird, Ague stood out as being genuinely odd. 

When I inquired about his past, all he’d say was that he lucked out on a “dot com,” getting out just in time. “Not millions but enough to live on while I try to write.” And how that sonuvabitch could write, not the type a’ thing I could write or would wanna’ write. I much preferred my Romantic Comedies to his ….. horror stories, to my way of thinking. The fact that the rest of the group took solace from these tales was what so disturbed me. You didn’t listen to Ague’s stories with your heart and your mind. You listened with your glands. I was immune to his charm. My jealousy inoculated me. In my two years in the group, I had more than established myself. My light comedies were a hit with the ladies in the group. I had been quite the darling. It didn’t take Ague long to beat my time despite his pot belly and his ravaged complexion. I was amusing; he touched baser emotions. 

When Ague read one of his stories to the group, it wasn’t unusual for the ladies to sob, or sigh. These were mature and gentle ladies, bear in mind, sophisticated and worldly. The men would hold their breath till the climax of the story when inevitably, an army of the dispossessed or Indonesian pirates or space aliens or a Great Horned Beast would appear in order to smash the thin veneer of civilization, revealing the sensual paradise beneath. Then the men would roar and the women would moan. That was only the beginning; it wasn’t long before Ague had his own little harem. His own praetorian guard. 

So I seethed at my computer and wrote a story that savaged Vanguard City and all of its inhabitants, from its larcenous mayor to its nihilistic hordes pining for the beast and the no-nothing bourgeoisie they hid behind. 

Sadly, I went word for word with Chester Ague and was humiliated, scorned, finally shunned. If the pen is mightier than the sword, what do you do when the devil is the better wordsmith? That is not a rhetorical question. 


My 2009 Resolutions — for Other People

By Scott Badler
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:43:00 AM

Normally, I make New Year’s resolutions for myself. It hasn’t worked. For example, last year’s resolutions to “avoid the social ramble,” eat more gefilte fish and try to like people fell by the wayside shortly after President’s Day (oddly, Washington and Lincoln are two of my least-favorite presidents). 

But I’m not giving up on resolutions. They have their place—just not at my placemat. So this year, in the spirit of giving (another failed resolution), I’ve authored resolutions for the rest of you. I believe these are sensible ideas that will help make the world a better place—for me, and yes, you too.  

There are only four. That shouldn’t be too hard. A word of caution: Failure to follow through on these resolutions means it’s on me next year. I don’t want that. 

 

Resolution for Diners 

Excusez moi, Madame, but you weren’t going to leave your dishes on the table, were you? Pardonez, but did you not notice you picked up your entrée at the counter? What this means is that there is no maitred’, waiter or bus boy. They do not work here. Let me point something out to you. Do you see that tub of dirty dishes over by the wall? You are allowed to use this. No extra charge. In 2009, the busy counterperson, or the people coming after you won’t have to clean up your mess. 

 

Resolution for People Who Talk 

Mr. Language Person and People Who Talk, please retire “awesome” and “absolutely” from our daily conversation beginning January 1, 2009, and forever after. Given our current downturn, perhaps all is not awesome. The Urban Dictionary’s take on this word is that it’s “Something Americans use to describe everything.” 

A hangnail.  

Acquisition of a coupon guaranteeing “50 percent off the second Deluxe Sinking Titanic when you buy two Deluxe Sinking Titanic Burgers.  

When you’ve got exact change for, well anything. Awesome! Not really. Choose another word or phrase. 

As for absolutely, did you have dinner? How about “yes” instead of absolutely? Or “sure.” Save your breath. They’re both one syllable words and they work. Have for hundreds of years. 

Finally, it’s time to be different. Who hasn’t said, “I want to make a difference”? Or been urged to do that. But it’s time to be, well, different. Let’s replace that tired phrase with the more definitive “reinvent the wheel.” As in “I want to reinvent the wheel in my community.” If we reinvent the wheel, or at least say it enough times, we might find a way out of this economic mess. 

 

Resolution for Two-Wheelers 

You there Mr. Bicyclist, in front of me in the left-hand turn lane. What are you doing? I’ve been seeing more and more of you there, and it has me worried. By law, you have the same rights as other moving vehicles, but please go the long way and cross at the street like a pedestrian. They’re people too. Be with them for those few seconds. You may have to wait for two lights to get over to that other side. Relax and enjoy the moment. Meditate. Perambulate. Masturbate. Do not make 2009 the year you invaded the left hand lane. If others follow your lead, we, in motorized moving vehicles behind you may run out of gas—and patience. 

 

Resolution for the President-Elect 

Mr. President-Elect Obama, don’t use the left-hand turn lane when riding your bike on Pennsylvania Avenue. Unfortunately, you will have to clean up your predecessor’s mess. Make sure to tidy up any of your own untidiness. Strike out any attempts by your speechwriters to include “awesome” or “absolutely” in your Inauguration speech.  

Above all, reinvent the wheel.  

 


In Their Pace ... In The Closet

By Garrett Murphy
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:17:00 AM

The majority in times past 

Would’ve been proud to say 

That they knew how to keep them 

“in their place.” 

 

Now the majority of once-thems 

Seem a little too proud to say 

That they wish to keep another set of them 

In a “different” kind of place--- 

 

(only in this case 

they call it 

“the closet.”) 

 

But is that not 

still 

“place?” 

 

Maybe it’s not 

EXACTLY 

The same… 

 

But it’s still 

Being expected to live a lie 

(er, life) 

of second-class content with the quo 

to appease the delicate sensibilities and “traditions” 

of “normal” folk. 

 

Still, 

As Emmett and Matthew might have warned all today, 

It’s a painful, 

Potentially tragic oppression 

Just 

(…well…) 

 

…the same. 

 

 

 


Wildlife in My House

By Sherry Bridgman
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:17:00 AM

Boys between the ages of seven and nine have a great affection for reptiles. They catch’em, cage’em and talk constantly about them. Could a boa constrictor swallow a VW car, Mom? 

Perhaps their interest was peaked by watching television (they did a lot of that), or by reading (not likely) various books on reptiles. Many Saturdays were taken up by a bus ride to Golden Gate Park to visit the California Academy of Sciences to view the many reptile specimens on display in the aquarium. 

Their room already housed a small reptilian zoo: lizards, frogs, turtles and a very big, mean iguana. 

And so they decided they were ready for a snake. Could they buy one? No, snakes are too expensive, I told them. 

Some Saturdays when they didn’t visit the Aquarium, they rode the bus to a reptile store in the outer Richmond district spending a good part of the day there. One day I went to pick them up there, and as I entered the store a horrible nauseating smell hit me making me very faint. I looked at my daughter, who was with me, and she was white as chalk, and she had her hand over her nose and mouth. 

As time went on, they still asked for a snake. Finally, I relented, with one condition—you’ll have to catch one. 

We planned a day for the great snake expedition. We dressed for bushwhacking: jeans, heavy boots, a Wonder bread lunch, canteens, and some of my best-embroidered pillowcases. They said that’s how you transport the snake home. So I think to myself, they will probably not see or even find a snake.  

We hiked for several hours, ate our lunch, looked for snakes, dammed up a small creek, went wading, and again, looked for snakes. Nothing. 

As we started back to the car, we walked down slope through golden fields of dried grasses. Up ahead something dark lay in the path. Was it a snake or merely a stick? The boys got excited and ran ahead. As I came up, I could see that it was indeed a snake. “It’s a gopher snake,” said the nine-year old. “How do you know?” He said he knew. They stood there gazing down at the snake. “Well” I interrupted, “who is going to catch it?” They both stepped back shaking their heads. Then the seven-year old stepped forward and said, “You’re the Mom, you pick it up!” I went down for the head, pinning it, and then tackled the rest of the body. At that very moment, I heard a rattle. Am I picking up a rattlesnake? Grasping the body firmly I quickly emptied the snake into the waiting pillowcase. I glanced at the boys whose shades of white blended with the pillowcases; they too had heard the rattle. 

When we had all calmed down and our hearts were back to normal, the seven-year old assured me that it was a gopher snake: they sometimes mimic rattlesnakes by moving their tail in the dry grass or leaves, which makes a sound like a rattle, or a guttural sound. 

The boys, with help from Dad, built a long cage, (it resembled a small coffin), which was then installed into the rest of the reptilian compound. Gumby the gopher snake stayed in the cage about a week, before checking out. 

After about a week into the search, the boys stopped looking, turning their attention to baseball cards. I knew it was lurking somewhere in the house, and I wanted that snake back in its’ cage with a very big 20-pound rock on top! 

We had a plumber doing some work in the bathroom, and it occurred to me that with all the banging and clanking of pipes, the snake might make an appearance. So I told him. He dropped his tools, turned white and said: “Lady, I hate snakes. I moved here from Texas to get away from snakes” He left. 

The next day as we were having breakfast, Gumby the gopher snake (of course, I had other names for it!), slithered out from under the stove with dust bunnies covering his entire body and I was quite sure I saw a slight hint of a smile. 

The next week Gumby disappeared again, and had been gone over two weeks when my sisters came to visit. We had dinner, and then went to the movies to see Jaws. Once home we prepared for bed then the shrill of my sister’s screams sent visions of the neighbors calling 911. Gumby had crawled into one of my sister’s slippers. 

Gumby stayed in his cage for two weeks, eating and resting preparing for his next big escape. This time he was gone over a month. 

Our neighbor came over to borrow some tools one afternoon. I unlocked the workshop in the basement, and we stepped inside. I handed him the tools, then he very casually said, do you know there is a snake on your workbench? There was Gumby, lying in a heap. At first, I thought he was a dead heap, and then I realized he was just a cold and hungry. 

Gumby became quite tame and easily handled over the years that we had him. He was always a star, making several appearances at school, and a source of awe for the neighborhood children who came to visit with him. The boys took turns carrying him around on their shoulders, proud of their reptilian pet. 

Eventually, they tired of Gumby and traded him for two white rats, which they also carried around on their shoulders. They said some kid in a movie did the same. 

Everyone asked how we got Gumby. Always, the boys proudly announced—Mom caught it! 

 

PACIFIC GOPHER SNAKE, (Pituoophis melanolecus catenifer) 

Common in grassland and open brush land along the Pacific coast. Gopher snakes are harmless. They are an important predator of rodents. Kills by constriction.  


Listen

By Cherrie Williams
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:51:00 AM
Winter Frost, 2003
By Cherrie Willams
Winter Frost, 2003

From the tree watch, listen! 

Admiring the trees; bumble bees 

The smell of the fresh breeze 

You! Tell a Story! That say, “Have a good-day!” 

Where green grass grows! Common 

Folk, waving hands; tell an old 

Story, “Have a good-day!” 

How the land was harvested; the 

Richness of soil brought forth food 

From the warth all the 

Year’s work listen. You, tell a story: 

People say, Hello, how are you  

Today?” the a reply; “How are you today?” 

Have a goo-day 

Have a good-day ... listen 

How the earth listens 

 

 

 

 


Craven

By Joseph Stubbs
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:49:00 AM

Craven was a frog upon my bog 

slender coelacanth, 

salamader in my deep recesses 

I never gave him pennance due, promises, protection, 

or trembly sweaty reverence 

I never recognized his slimy mission 

And so—great claw around my chicken neck 

as time goes on 

 

time is a pole stuck in the tide 

cast iron face glaring blankly 

towards the choppy surface 

Floating down into the darkness  

puncturing the tissue, fearing oblivion 

no wonder his glistening toes 

were UFOs—surprising blows, 

always 

 

my pencil jerks the words 

straight away from me 

and if they don’t belong 

they don’t belong to Craven 

and if I do not belong 

then what is I? 

it is not Craven 

Craven sleeps between my toes 

up my nose—in my ear, 

outside my fear 

when a storm comes calling 

he simply hides 

he has no problem 

he has no pride 

 


Hope Is Never Silent

By Tracie De Angelis Salim
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:43:00 AM

“This is my identification,” he said, clutching a hand painted picture of ancient olive trees, pointing at it, exclaiming “This is it! Without this, I lose hope!” 

“Where is your identification?” shouts the heavily armed soldier. “Huwiya? Huwiya?” (Arabic for identification). 

“This is my identification!” the old man repeats. This has been the identification for generations of Palestinians. The evidence of olive trees is his identity. It is what reminds him of his history. 

Amidst hundreds of clapping hands, stomping feet, soldiers and children, the voice of one man rose above it all. A full six years after the building of the separation wall in the small village of Jayyous, Palestine, hope is still alive. Hope intricately woven into the landscape of Palestine. “That is my home,” he said, pointing to the land of Palestine, “that is who I am!” His hope of reclamation is what keeps him alive! The chance to harvest his ancient olive trees again. 

In 2002, Jayyous farmers were given maps of how the separation barrier would cut off a full 73 percent of their land, annexing their most fertile soil, olive groves, citrus trees and greenhouses. In subsequent years, they have lost six of their seven water wells and another 13 percent of their land for the expansion of an Israeli settlement. The wall is fully erected around their village with only two access points, which are tightly monitored and infrequently opened for the farmers of this village to access what is theirs to harvest. This is a village win which 90 percent of the income came from their land; it is what sustained them. It was their hope for the future. 

On Nov. 28, 2008, farmers from Jayyous, surrounding villages and cities gathered to be sure their protest is never silenced. Children who were too young to remember what the village was like before the barrier, stood tall to claim their identity with their land; elders who have survived war, incursions, occupation and poverty walked with canes to the gathering point at the gate. 

It was a peaceful and passionate demonstration. Israeli soldiers at times looked bored and unsure of their purpose. What do they identify with? I thought. What is their hope? Do they hope to just make it home safely to their families? Do they hope to spark a conflict with the farmers? Or do they, too, hope the Palestinians may claim that which is theirs and end the occupation once and for all? 

What I know is that both sides of this conflict are exhausted. The separation wall has been not only a barrier to the land, but also barrier to peace and hope. When this wall went up, it seemed that the road to destruction was paved. 

Today, there is hope. Hope in the form of children and elders. Hope in the ability to still identify with what is familiar: the olive trees of Palestine. Hope in the form of peaceful protest and the written word. Hope in harvesting olives with the solidarity of internationals. Hope in the truth. 

While many may fear the Palestinian flag or the idea of a Palestinian state, others have hope that the firm planting of this flag on her own soil may well be the hope that the world has been waiting for. 

Harvey Milk once said, “Hope is never silent.” I pray in this holiday season that the voices of hope stay strong until that day of peace shall come. 

Happy Holidays. 

A positive, fruitful New Year. 

 


Regarding the Spanish Civil War

By Peter Loubal
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:18:00 AM

Civil wars are extremely uncivilized, their political aftermath even filthier. To put a human face on The Planet’s recent Lincoln “Brigade”—Spanish Civil War (Bermack /Jarach) debate, the story of my aunt.  

I first met Vlasta Vesela, when she returned to Czechoslovakia in 1945 as a hero of the anti-Nazi struggle. A member of the Communist Students’ organization, she got her M.D. just in time to volunteer with a medical group that went to Spain in 1937. A dozen doctors operated a 500-bed “field hospital,” housed in villas and monasteries, moving with the front to Guadalajara, Valencia, Barcelona. She was remembered as “getting old people to shelters during an air raid and then fearlessly saving children from a bombed-out children’s home.” In 1939 she escaped to France, joined the Resistance, and, after Vichy was occupied in 1942, got to Switzerland. Along the way she hooked up with my father’s cousin, i.e., became “family.” 

Both were rewarded with reasonably high-up jobs during the first four post-war years. But in mid-1949, with the Party firmly in power, these “Spaniards” were among the first Communists to be imprisoned as “American spies.” With Tito defying the Soviets in Yugoslavia, Stalin felt threatened by veteran die-hard idealists, especially those “exposed to the West” and aware of how revolutions are won or lost. 

Vlasta did not play her role in a planned show trial. “She rudely insults both her interrogators, comparing them to the Gestapo,” reads one report. A fellow prisoner remembers her as “refusing to testify against anyone else.” She was force-fed during a hunger strike, but became so weak she couldn’t stand and was given sleeping powder, one dose per night. These she saved up, and in June 1950, aged 38 years, she killed herself in prison, leaving behind two letters made with pin pricks on scraps of paper. 

One of the interrogators was executed two years later for, among others “helping Vesela kill herself.” The second interrogator committed suicide. My uncle was released from prison in 1954 and received a good job in Prague. He must have signed some document and refused to talk about what happened. By then I was in college, aware that both he and Vlasta were essentially “apparatchiks” lacking the warmth, mutual trust and outspokenness of my other relatives. Not to even dare to say “this system sucks,” was just one more confirmation that this was a Country I did not wish to live in.  

Conclusions: Vlasta was a gutsy lady, but by no means “an innocent victim.” Beware, when ideals turn into ideology. A “neutral majority” cannot stay uninvolved while extremes battle it out. With terrorists sooner or later getting hold of WMDs there are no more “innocents.” We will have to agree to let some injustices be grandfathered in, and make sure “the Center” holds, globally. Decide (by democratic vote) who is “family” and who not, and stay out of “other people’s” conflicts.  

 

 

 

 


Giving Love for Christmas

By Melinda Pillsbury-Foster
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:50:00 AM

Christmas is coming and along with the joy most of us experience the stress of not having finished our buying. This year most of us are also suffering through the pangs of not having enough money to buy the gifts that would we would normally give. 

Across the country people are reexamining the choices they would have made and finding a wealth of possibilities that change their relationships with each other in unexpected ways. Instead of giving from the wallet they are giving from their hearts. 

This trend made me smile, recalling to mind the gifts that have stayed with me over the years, many of them from my children. Small objects made by hand with the finger prints will visible; the plates from preschool with their artwork; the small things remind us of days past. The best gifts keeps giving. My daughter, Dawn, gave me a packet of coupons one year. Those memories still make me smile today. I should have Xeroxed them, looking back. I was tempted to keep them but Dawn insisted they be used, after all, she had worked hard thinking up the contents of each coupon. So I used them, every single one. My favorite was the coupon that promised her room would be cleaned, that once, without argument and to my entire satisfaction. Wow. 

Dawn, now very much grown and married and firmly committed to saving the world through going green, went through some interesting times when she was entering her teens. The state of her room was an ongoing issue for the entire family. Our house cleaner eventually told me she was afraid to enter and I had to agree that she had reason. 

Dawn’s room was accessible only up a narrow staircase, over the garage. It had its own bathroom, with tub and separate shower. It was roomy and had a lovely view of the back yard where various interesting events took place over the years we lived there. The aging Walnut Trees nodded through long, sun warmed summers. When we moved in the room, very private and inaccessible, had a new and crisply clean light blue carpet on the floor. The walls were a creamy white. The bathroom sparkled. As time went on these things changed. At first I tried reminding her. Then I began sending her off on short trips and cleaning it myself. Dawn objected to my invasion of her “private space.” My pleas did not avail. Nothing kept it fit for human habitation. 

A pot pie disappeared there to be found six months later compressed into a flat, green patty in Dawn’s bed. Dawn had searched all over the house, complaining someone had stolen it. The cats viewed her room as a place to relieve themselves since they determined, correctly, no one would notice. I acquired bright yellow hazardous waste tape which I put up, a not so gentle hint. Dawn ignored it. She liked her room just as it was with a foot of waste on the floor and a bathroom that would make any reasonable being blanch. The smell could be intense. 

As you can imagine, it was a point of conflict between us and also a cause for humor and horror from her siblings who generally had far more tidy habits. 

That was why the gift she gave me that Christmas still makes me smile. The coupon was hand made with an edging of holly and berries. It came with others, one for breakfast in bed, another for any chore I chose. But that one was the best. 

I do not recall how many garbage bags it took to clean her room when I finally used the coupon. She took care of it all herself on that occasion. But the pile was monumental. Looking back over these many years, and knowing that now she is an impeccable housekeeper for herself and her husband and their family of cats, still makes me smile. Dawn knew what would make me happy. She proved she was entirely competent to deliver. She was a woman of her word. 

This kind of gift showed she knew what would make me happy. Receiving that small sheaf of coupons had surprised me, telling me I was visible as a person and not just as a mother. I do not recall any other present I received that year. But I remember the coupons and that gift links to another gift she did not know she was giving me. I used to have a lot of keys which lived on a copper ring heavy enough to be used as a minor weapon. Dawn once said that the sound of those keys jingling let her know she was safe, Mom was on her way. 

Gifts can come consciously, as something we intend to give. They can also come straight from the heart to warm us long afterwards without our even knowing. 

At this time in our nation’s history we are all reaching out for what lasts, sustains us, warms the heart and makes life worthwhile. We will forget most of the things we get this Christmas. But some gifts we will remember forever. The best gifts last a lifetime and never wear out, break, or lose their power to move us. When we use our knowledge of others to show them we really know them, see them, understand what we can do to bring them happiness, we are giving greenly, now and to last. 

Today Dawn lives in El Cerrito and has a lovely website dedicated to her passion for growing locally called Garden2table. Growing her own food locally has become another form for giving green, connecting her to those around her. As we move from this year to 2009 growing and giving will become ever more central to our lives. As individuals, as members of families and communities, we need to see each other, care, and ensure no one is forgotten. The moments that nourish us spiritually build love, and that is always a good thing, 

 

Ms. Pillsbury-Foster is the author of the book, A Star for Christmas, which explores an enduring family tradition founded on her memories of James Dean.


Bookstore Blues

By Roopa Ramamoorthi
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:43:00 AM

I looked at my watch. My husband had just dropped me off at the Berkeley BART station. I had 15 minutes to catch the train to San Francisco to meet Bernadette. We were to join some of our classmates for a beach barbecue reunion of our “Human Factors and Team Dynamics” class.  

I had time to pop into the Half Price Books on Shattuck. Besides I wanted to see if Junot Diaz’s book The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, the one that won the Pulitzer, was there. I could pick up a used copy on sale. I wanted to read the book before I went to his fiction workshop—assuming I got accepted. 

I looked again as I had before between Diamant and Dickens. His other book, Drown, was there, but not this one. The bookstore was well lit with white fluorescent lights and since it was a Sunday morning, other than two teenager girls in the romance section I was the only one at the bookstore. My eyes wandered to G—Uruguayan writer Galeano—I had two books in his trilogy, wanted the third, Faces and Masks, if I could get it cheap. It was a wonderful book about the taking of the Americas, 1700-1900. I wish I could write as poetically as he does. 

Then I moved to García Márquez. I had One Hundred Years of Solitude, had seen the movie version of Love in the Time of Cholera. There was a short story collection of his—$4—seemed a steal. But I had spent $30 on books only the previous day, and when I spoke to my father in Bombay, he, the biggest book lover of all, admonished me to go slow on buying books. “Where will you put them in your two-bedroom apartment?” 

I caressed the book, then put it back. I shouldn’t be such a junkie. As I wandered off to literary criticism I heard the teenage guy at the register tell someone, “García Márquez, you should check him out, man.” 

I felt like running over and grabbing my book, but I hesitated and continued scanning the literary criticism section. Still the possessive urge dragged me back to García Márquez, where I saw a middle-aged man in shabby clothes, maybe someone down on his luck, fingering my book. 

“If you don’t want the book, I will take it,” I blurted out. 

He turned to look at me. “Do you know this author? Is the book worth $4?” 

His tone was friendly. If I press, he will probably give up the book, but I cannot do that. “Yes, he is very good.” 

“Thanks, you made up my mind. I am taking this book.” 

I leave the bookstore, a junkie without my fix. But that man would probably read and reread the book—maybe it is only three or four books that he has—while it might have just sat on my shelf in the company of Borges and Babel having only one or two stories read. 


Richmond Plans Threaten Point Isabel

By Rosemary Loubal
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:18:00 AM

Richmond’s Planning Commission voted to rezone Point Isabel to accommodate a Kohl’s department store with 400 parking spaces. Local developer Oliver, who owns the land, has already vacated the existing stores and offices on the corner of Central Avenue and Rydin Road. There is constant traffic from Costco and USPS trucks. The dog-park lots are often full. Hundreds of people daily use the area for hiking, cycling, dog walking, bird watching. Thousands at weekends. Ever more traffic and pollution will further worsen already major traffic and access issues for park visitors and trail users, and damage the bird habitat and the vegetation of this world-class shoreline, a major segment of the Bay Trail, s fantastic regional asset that is to eventually completely circle the bay.  

The commission accepted a blatantly misleading environmental impact report, claiming that “Caltrans will resolve traffic issues” and ignoring unresolved problems with frequently gridlocked Central Avenue. The developer’s lobbyist, knowing it was a “done deal,” sat smiling smugly, as over 30 citizens used two minutes each time to point out the dangers to this wonderful area. No one spoke in favor. Most telling was a commissioner’s leading question: “How many endangered species does the [built-up] site have?”  

Well, “How many lobbyists does it take to sway the Planning Commission?” (Answer: “Only one, in a town dominated by construction interests!”) The project approval is now being appealed. 

This lobbyist, by the way, championed the (fortunately defeated) plans to develop Franklin Canyon in Hercules and is a major player in promoting Chevron’s controversial $1 billion hydrogen update plans. Many of us would like a Kohl’s store closer than Pleasant Hill or Vallejo. Oliver Construction is a highly respected local firm. But why bring in West County’s foremost “anti-environment” lobbyist?  

The economy is in very poor shape; retail business is getting worse daily. Kohl’s has just “cherry-picked” the best of existing Mervyn stores. If Kohl’s wants a new store in our area, it could be given the vacant Target store at Del Norte in El Cerrito, close to BART and public transportation. This store was subsidized by EC redevelopment and has a clause stating that, if the Target store becomes vacant for six months, then it reverts to Redevelopment. After all, EC citizens’ tax money paid for it! This would be a win-win. Kohl’s and shoppers would get a ready-made store, the Point Isabel habitat preserved for more-suitable development. Target stores should learn not to take subsidies from a town and then spurn it in favor of another. 

The Contra Costa Transportation Authority considers the Central Avenue/freeway intersection West County’s most congested and hardest to resolve, with a price tag of $40 million. Even if funding is available, why add capacity if at the same time the plan is to install traffic metering? The project’s financial benefits may not outweigh the cost of “fixing the traffic.” This is not a matter of trying to balance economics and job-creation against environmental concerns. The cost of resolving these issues is substantially more than the sales and property tax generated by a Kohl’s.  

There is still time to fight this vile and silly project. Join others (environmentalists and shoppers) at 7 p.m. Tuesday, Jan. 6, at an appeal hearing in front of the Richmond City Council, 1401 Marina Way South.  

Ask Richmond to do a full and honest environmental assessment, and to drop the Kohl’s idea. Oliver Construction should consider lesser-impact (perhaps senior) housing, built with help from Richmond and El Cerrito Redevelopment housing funds. But only after Caltrans and adjoining cities resolve current traffic issues. An AC bus line goes to Point Isabel.  

Any additional development should be geared to bus use, walking and bicycling, not thousands of more cars going shopping.  

Put the Kohl’s store where it belongs. 

 


Night at the Musée d’Orsay

By Judy Wells
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:44:00 AM

If the curators knew 

I, a moth, 

was in the Van Gogh room 

at the Musée d’Orsay 

in Paris, 

they’d be shocked! 

But what do they expect— 

I love light 

and I’m particularly 

attracted to a painting 

of stars—globs of light 

reflected in a river. 

 

I’ve sat on top of these yellow blobs 

and survived somehow 

though I can feel 

the heat of these stars 

right through the paint. 

Light bulbs are cold by comparison 

though I’m not singed by Van Gogh. 

Somehow I’m transformed 

and waves of ecstasy 

wander through my wings. 

 

I rest on Van Gogh’s stars all night 

and in the morning 

I flit to a cottage 

with a voluptuous garden 

and settle on a deep blue iris. 

The tourists think 

I’m part of the painting. 

I laugh. 

I’m just a moth 

with grand taste. 

 

 

 

 


I’d Like to Live in Paris

By Judy Wells
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:44:00 AM

I’d like to walk along the Seine 

View Notre Dame de Paris 

I’d like to live in the 5ème 

Walk down the rue des Ecoles 

Sit at la Place de la Contrescarpe 

and sip chocolate 

Shoo away the pigeons 

that Hemingway stalked 

for his stews as a poor man in Paris 

 

I’d like to live in the 6ème 

Walk in the Jardin du Luxembourg 

Visit Gertrude Stein’s place 

Sit among her visitors 

Picasso’s great portrait of her on the wall 

Alice with her brownies 

about to serve us all 

 

I’d like to live in the 16ème 

or Passy as it was called 

in the 19th century 

Visit with Balzac in his house 

where he hid from his creditors 

Have him serve me a nightcap 

of his famous coffee— 

a thick brew made of ground beans 

Then hear his stories toute la nuit 

of Esther and Lucien de Rubempré 

before I waltzed away 

 

To stroll around Montmartre 

with Salvador Dali 

at dawn. Why not? 

Or maybe I would join 

Apollinaire and Marie Laurencin 

wandering over bridges on the Seine  

The sun rising slowly 

on a cold, foggy day 

My mind jazzed with Balzac’s coffee 

till I see Notre Dame de Paris 

 

And bow my head  

 

 

 


Call Center

By Roopa Ramamoorthi
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:45:00 AM

“Hello, this is Sandy speaking, how can I help you?” I pushed the words up my nose, tried to manufacture the twang we are encouraged to have, to make us sound more American. It could have been Sally. But doesn’t Sandy sound closer to my name Sandhya? 

“I’ve been trying to get a reservation, need to get from Iowa City to Boston for Thanksgiving weekend and your damn airline has all these blackout dates for frequent flyers.” 

Phones flash and buzz in the 40 cubicles in this tiny room, each operator twanging to their clients in Iowa, Missouri and New York, tracing paths from one place to another where we have never been. The late shift is the busiest, the time most people in America are doing their business. 

“Sir, I will try to make the reservation, please give me a minute. What is your good name, sir, and your frequent flyer miles number?” Oops, I shouldn’t use terms like “good name,” stick to American expressions only, that is what the training manual says. 

“My frequent flyer no. is XXX-YZZ.” 

“Can you repeat that again please, sir.” When these people speak with all their different American accents it is hard for me to get the numbers correctly. 

“I said XXX-YZZ. Is it so hard to follow.” 

“Sir, you don’t have enough miles for the trip.” I have to cut the call soon. I have to spend no more than three minutes per call otherwise they may replace me if I don’t make the quota. I wish I could visit Boston or even Iowa, all these cities. Daily I am booking these people, and I haven’t even been outside Delhi and Gurgaon, Haryana.  

“Dammit, can I speak to someone who understands real English, someone without an accent.” 

Be patient, never get angry at a customer. 

“Sorry, sir, my manager is busy. But if you want to pay by credit card and make a reservation I can do that, sir.” 

“Where are you, in some goddamn Indian city? I will file a complaint.” 

Phone bangs. 

It is 3 a.m. now. At 5 a.m., the bus will come. I can go home. At least I make more money in a month than my father did in six months working as a government clerk all his life. And we need money to buy jewelry for my elder sister’s wedding and for my mother’s blood pressure medications. Maybe later I can buy some T-shirts like all those Americans wear even if I can’t visit America. 

Maybe, maybe one day some Sally sitting in Iowa at midnight will say, “Hello, I am Sandhya, how can I help you? Yes, you want to go from Trivandrum to Mumbai; let me see how to book you.” At least I can dream, even if Lakshmi doesn’t answer my prayers tonight. 


Crackpot Rules

By Don Anderson
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:20:00 AM

Having visited Berkeley many times since 1939, I thought it would be a good retirement colony. So I hired a 26-foot moving van, engaged my daughter and stepdaughter and drove north from Idyllwild on Nov. 2.  

When I rented the van for delivering my goods to Berkeley, the agent said something was peculiar and that I was forbidden to take the van to Berkeley U-Haul, so I said I would take it to Richmond. After a long drive, we arrived at Berkeley Self-Storage on San Pablo Avenue and parked for the night, staying in San Francisco.  

The next day, with a crew of three, we unloaded into four storage units and tried to deliver the van, not to Berkeley U-Haul, a block away on San Pablo, but to Richmond U-Haul, where a very hostile young lady refused to take it, since I hadn’t called, and said that I must take it to Oakland, where, after much trauma, burning of gas, pollution of the atmosphere, etc., we finally managed to leave the van.  

What kind of crackpot rules has Berkeley generated?


Three Poems

By (s.b.r) Soul-1990
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:48:00 AM

Dissent 

For those who question the mechanics of our tactics, 

that is not for them understand, only to open their eyes, 

and if our actions are cause for debate, 

we’ve already been successful.... 

—(s.b.r) Soul-1990 

 

Two Souls Touching 

Two souls touching are like drops of rain slowly sliding down a window pane, 

they suddenly meet side by side inching their way down for the ending ride, 

some hit rough edges but must go on , both soul’s knowing they must remain strong, 

when soon the end is near and they’ll each hit the bottom and both disappear.... 

—( s.b.r) Soul-1998 

 

Life’s Special Bond 

Hearing the waves flowing in and out reminds me of turning all about, 

in a time long ago before you were born, floating around and being formed; 

because of a connection made very neat which brought together two heart beats, 

when you and your mother were one, being slowly and rythmatically unspun....  

 

—(s.b.r) Soul-1983 


Going to and from Work in Downtown Berkeley on a Friday of the First Rain

By Mike Palmer
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:46:00 AM

My alarm is the morning news at 6:30; 

I awake to an interview with a man who used 

to work as a guide on Mt. McKinley in Alaska 

but left that job to go to Iraq and record the thoughts 

of people whose homes had been bombed 

and destroyed 

by the Americans. 

He’s compiled these into a book. 

 

The interview goes on until  

Amy Goodman tells him “You have ten seconds” 

for a final response. 

 

It’s 7a.m. I want to 

sleep in—for at least another half hour. 

But I can’t. 

I have to be at work by 8:30. 

Punctuality is an important category on our 

annual performance evaluations 

and the fewer checks in the “needs improvement” column 

the better. 

 

I get up, shower, eat and leave. 

I remember what Uncle Charlie 

played by Joseph Cotten in 

Alfred Hitchcock’s Shadow of a Doubt said: 

“I can’t face the world until I’ve had my morning coffee.” 

So I go directly to Peet’s on Shattuck Avenue 

for a nonfat latte. 

 

It’s the first day of rain in months; 

people seek shelter. 

Inside Peet’s a homeless man says 

“It’s already 8:25. I have to get back out there.” 

He says this with the determined focus 

of a high-powered executive 

or of a policeman who loves his job. 

His possessions are in a metal cart with tiny wheels; 

His hair hangs like wet strings against the side of his head. 

 

Leaving Peet’s I continue up Shattuck Avenue 

past the Bank of America and 

the Chinese, Taiwanese, Vietnamese, Japanese, and Nepalese 

restaurants. 

And the Marine Corps 

“Officer Selection Office” 

that isn’t as big as it looked on the TV news. 

 

Outside McDonald’s  

a man I’ve seen sleeping in the doorway 

of the abandoned skin care spa 

staggers down the center of the sidewalk, 

roused out of his soiled sleeping bag bed  

by the rain and wind. 

 

With all the energy he has  

he punches the air in front of him 

the way you imagine King Lear acts toward the end of the play 

shouting in his own language. 

 

A man in a suit, carrying a briefcase, 

hurriedly walks by. 

 

I’m afraid of King Lear but when I walk by him 

he stares directly into space  

missing me completely. 

I watch him stagger away around the street corner 

and out of sight. 

 

I walk down the street past 

the store that sells only Bollywood videos and saris. 

I enter the Golden Bear office complex and 

get on the elevator at the same time as Renita, 

who works in payroll. 

It’s one of the few times 

we’re close or speak to one another 

about anything other than 

the printer that keeps jamming. 

 

The hallways leading to our office are carpeted and clean; 

the lighting and temperature  

controlled. 

The sounds muffled.  

If it were not for the windows 

I could be in some underground complex in  

Antarctica or somewhere  

in the center of the earth. 

 

From the offices of the ones 

who have large windows 

and who make more money 

than those who work in cubicles 

you can see what’s outside 

but you can’t hear anything 

except the sirens: 

 

the fire trucks, the police, 

the ambulances. 

 

At 6 p.m. I leave work 

and go to the Musical Offering Café  

across from Zellerbach Hall. 

Tonight they’re serving lasagna. 

 

I stand in front of the glass door of the Musical Offering 

and watch Marcella the Muse as she moves among the tables 

as gracefully and as peacefully 

as a young doe in a field of grass. 

 

There are plenty of empty seats in the place and 

I consider going inside but 

turn and 

go home. 

 

The rain has stopped. People 

look happier. I hear the wind 

breathe through the wet leaves on the trees. 

 

The dark clouds 

slowly roll away 

like the smoke from an explosion. 

 

 

Somewhere in the distance 

I hear the song of the BART train  

as it stops and leaves for the next station. 

 

All day, all night 

it plays the same long note.  

 

In the apartment above mine 

I hear a couple talking. 

I can’t understand what they’re saying. 

 

And the silence returns.  

But it never left. 


Paulina

By Dana Chernack
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:46:00 AM

The air hangs heavy this particular April afternoon as Paulina Rabinovich parks her orange Volvo on Bonita Street.  

Bonita Street with its gardens, its trees .... its wind chimes. A green, leafy, genteel Bohemia. Paulina notices a daisy standing alone in the mist. She picks the daisy, brings it to her nose. Paulina is 54 years old, her petals are drooping, perhaps her pheromones are not as they were, maybe that’s why she can’t close the deal with Vincente. She is on her way to the North Berkeley Senior Center, where her writing class meets. Paulina is writing a novel, which takes the form of an erotic diary kept by an immigrant from the Ukraine who writes of her husband’s inadequacies and her longing for romance, sex, and intimacy. 

Like a bad roll of the dice, Paulina met her husband, Dr. André Wingate, 25 years earlier in Las Vegas. She was working as a Charo impersonator. He was attending an anesthesiologist convention. 

Paulina peers into the mirror of the bathroom at the North Berkeley Senior Center. The handicapped bathroom— she needs her privacy, she needs her space. She needs to look just right for Vincente with the long, dyed, relaxed and moussed hair, which he combs straight back from his radically receding hairline. Vincente, with the brush under his nose and his blue-tinted shades, looks like a retired Columbian hit man, though he writes gentle tales about an angel that comes down to earth in the guise of a street performer only to become disillusioned, strung out on cheap laughs and empty sentiments. 

Paulina gave it her all the week before. She and Vincente were in the Café of the French Hotel. They were tete a tete, over their cappuccinos, Paulina’s breasts resting on the tiny café table, her face framed by her hand. This was her deal closing face. It made her look knowing, full of mischief and hi-jinks. The air between them became palpable. Out of the chaos of life, a totality of conscious choices and mere accident had conspired to bring their lips one inch apart. 

“What about my wife?” Vincente spoke in that odd English of his that was accented not only by his Hispanic mother and his Brooklyn father, but also by his first 10 years spent in Seoul, South Korea. This too was part of the mystique; there was even an Asian cast to his eyes, and a slow deep wisdom to his remarks. 

“We won’t tell your wife!” Paulina was aware of heads turning. “That’s the idea!” 

“Hashem would know!” 

“Not if you keep your mouth closed.”  

“Hashem knows all!” 

Paulina had spent her first 10 years behind the Iron Curtain, believing in God was no different from believing in the Easter Bunny or the efficacy of Dr. Phil’s advice. 

“I’m a Yid!” 

“I thought you were Columbian!” 

“Dominican!” 

“Whatever.” 

“Your problem, Paulina, is that you cannot understand the Latin male!” 

“You’re problem, Vincente, is that you’re afraid of assertive women!” 

“I fear no one but Hashem!” Vincente slapped his attaché case on the table. Everyone hit the floor. “I have something for you, Paulina!”  

People were praying in four languages as Vincente popped open his attaché case. He reached in and pulled out a book. Kabala for Dummies, it said on the cover, in faux Hebrew characters. 

Paulina in the handicapped bathroom of the North Berkeley Senior Center looks in the mirror one last time and is out the door, finding to her embarrassment a line of people in wheelchairs and crutches patiently waiting. She mumbles an apology and then heads for class. 

Alas, Vincente has not saved a seat for her. He smiles his Vincente smile, waves from across the room, goes back to his flirting. The petals were right, he does not love her, and it is plain to see. 

There is no way she can keep her game face on. She flees down Bonita Street in her pedal pushers and off the shoulder blouse. She gets in her Volvo. 

It is then that the clouds that had been building for hours on this muggy April afternoon finally overflow. It isn’t the lightning that rouses Paulina from her slumber. It is that first crack of thunder rattling her Volvo that rocks her soul. She thinks of Vincente pointing toward the heavens that day he caused such a commotion at the French Hotel. She reaches for her Kabala for Dummies where she had tossed it. Then the tears. What a low, vile, creature, she is. How cruel to her André, who loved her unconditionally. 

Paulina opens her glove compartment, gets out her emergency sewing kit. Sure enough, there is a tiny spool of red thread. She ties a piece around her wrist. Formerly this would have been a fashion statement, now it is her I-thou statement. Like Madonna, Paulina Rabinovich would reconnect with her Jewish roots. 


On Passing

By Randy Fingland
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:23:00 AM

past the window & doors that mask the offal smells from 

the morgue chilling corpses of dead oaths of office 

past the gate to the center for the circulation of subverted truth 

kept in influential poses at cost plus unlimited spin 

past the mirror image afloat in the bulletproof glass protecting 

the Magna Carta from handgun destructionist urges 

past the video game that best captures the ongoing struggle to 

guarantee the safety of the Bill of Rights in the face of 

Wall Street wunderkind unregulated by the big screen’s 

pale shades of Hiroshima 

past the derivations of Tom Paine’s common sentiments about 

sellouts for merely personal gain who bring to mind the 

complimentary blanket providers used to spread small 

pox into targeted populations 

past where the entrance to Constitution Square used to be 

before the pedestrian became an outlaw unless malled 

and carded for the privilege of participation in the 

consumptionary revolution, honk if you have credit 

past the weather extremes of politicians’ crocodile tear floods of 

regrettable decisions over this situation that necessitates 

doing nothing until you hear from a dodge-the-issue 

leadership out of step with the bipartisans of record 

past locked-door houses of worship & the muffled silence of 

adjacent neighborhoods in hiding from the injustice 

that weighs on the thoroughfares by the busload 

past the portals sealed from cacophonous screeching out of 

the compressed lungs of unrighteous detainees held 

for their thoughts rather than their deeds in inestimable 

holding cells around the world 

past the secret prisons and the wispy nature of the countless 

rendition listees who remain in the white pages already 

distributed to each home in the area code although 

destined to never again answer a call 

past the mass burial sites due to air strikes based upon faulty  

research provided by the institutions of higher learning 

who forge better living through chemistry’s double 

edged sword’s swath into the survival rate of suckling 

babies who just happened to be born there 

past the shipping docks full of trucks loading up the orders 

requesting landmines, bombs, ammunition, rockets, 

guided missiles, & trigger fingers from fully recession 

proof manufacturers subsidized by tax dollars 

past the water-boarding technique instruction camps where 

there’s forever a waiting list of capable individuals 

devoted to enforcement instead of protection & service 

past the municipal offices & their ostentatious plaques of 

civic pride at services rendered during eras reported 

as more prosperous forgotten now by the citizenry 

because stories of bravery by the hero-leaders are extinct 

past the elementary schools named after Generals Macarthur, 

Pershing & Eisenhower 

past the junior high schools still called Andrew Jackson (none 

Andrew Johnson?), U.S. Grant, or Robert E. Lee 

past the high schools named for Jefferson, Washington or Hoover 

past the myriad campuses of Lincoln Junior College, good old  

Roosevelt U., Reagan School of Economics 

past the graduate chairs named for fallen astronauts in the vacuum 

of empathy shown for favorite chimps lost in experiment 

to rid skin irritants from cosmetic concoctions 

past the escalating cost of stamps in post offices with flags 

abreeze in the particulate air Benjamin Franklin would  

want to invent as per spectacles as nose siphon to 

filter the fumes a hundred dollar bill buys from Exxon 

past the promises given in the Army Recruitment Centers 

regarding low fatality rates on the modern battlefield 

& the backup financial aid for college degree & beyond 

past auto corridor & gas station row off the freeway under 

protection by a private mercenary army better equipped 

than US as well as UN allies in Afghanistan 

past the veterans’ hospitals with prominent memorial statues to 

prove heroes of war, often on horse, never fade away, 

however must withstand graffiti & occasional urination 

past political party headquarters of all denominations who incubate 

the eggs of power into full-blown chickens-with-their-heads- 

to-cut-on-insider info on the scramble to grab sand money 

castles from the jaws of deflation 

past brick & stone, wooden & glass, & open air cathedral-style 

churches full of polished vacant pews filled with empty 

donation coffers that force the sale of resources & property 

past major meth labs disguised as legitimate pharmaceutical 

concerns on state street that not so straight street up 

the nose that sniffs profit from the grasp of instability in kind 

past munitions installers who work 24-7 anywhere in the world 

such a service is required, satisfaction security certified  

no matter APR, call now, no waiting 

past main street disconnects from what cheap goods actually 

don’t leave when they’re taken, if, as most resources are, 

removed according to the methodology of strip mining 

past elm street denials that truly just deserts take taste from  

the mouths of uneducated minions who never received 

a decent appetizer, much less an entrée, let them eat 

whatever’s in the crate of trickle down 

past the complicit nature our tax support for atrocity suggests 

to any descendants able in a century or two to picture 

our actions, against reason’s best guess a fool’s quest 

at best the charge of the light-headed brigade into oblivion 

past dysfunctional representation who above & over the hill 

according to the will of prudence in daily decisions lead 

right where this emphasis can only go 

these signs of an ad infinitum continuum point toward the well- trod road to armed conflict, more hurt, more death 

 

better shout out no, better not go, return to the family awaits 

peace & love, live side by side neighbors, glad to remain 

the person you are in the eyes of the children everywhere 

 

 

 

 


Backyard Photo

Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:21:00 AM
Bill Woodcock

A squirrel eating a fig. 


People’s Park Treesit Ends With a Reprieve

By Richard Brenneman
Friday December 19, 2008 - 11:18:00 AM

Berkeley’s latest treesit ended Thursday, the same day it began, when campus police signed a Christmas truce that spares—for the moment—two acacias in People’s Park. 

Zachary RunningWolf, the same arboreal ascender who began the lengthy occupation of the oak grove at Memorial Stadium on Dec. 2, 2006, was the lone occupant of one of the People’s Park acacias, which share space with a children’s playground. The grove treesit ended Sept. 9, the same day the last of the trees there was leveled by a chainsaw-wielding contract crew. 

RunningWolf’s ascent at People’s Park came after campus officials cut down one tree south of the park’s stage area and posted a notice that they planned to ax the other two to the east. 

According to the plastic-shielded notice placed on a fence surrounding the playground, one of the shoots of the acacia at the park's western end had collapsed Dec. 2 and the remainder of the tree was then taken down. 

“Two other acacia trees at the east end of the park … have been identified as potential hazards by UC Berkeley and consulting arborists,” the notice declared. “They are structurally weak and subject to failure and collapse, and are planned to be removed in the near future.” 

After RunningWolf ascended the branches Thursday and a preliminary effort failed to dislodge him, negotiations began, and by mid-afternoon, UC Police Capt. Guillermo Beckford had signed a statement which was passed up to RunningWolf. 

“This is written notification that if you will voluntarily come down from the Acacia tree that you are in presently, that the university will NOT remove these two trees during the holidays,” read the statement that opened “Dear Zachary.” 

“If the stadium treesit was the longest urban treesit, this was the shortest,” said RunningWolf Thursday afternoon. 

Both campus and city police were on hand when he descended, but Capt. Beckford had promised no arrest would be made, so RunningWolf was free to accept the accolades of supporters, who included Dumpster Muffin and other veterans of the stadium grove action. 

The protesters plan to consult with their own tree experts to see if the acacias really are diseased. 

“I was up in the trees and I didn’t see any sign of disease,” RunningWolf said, adding, “I suspect they really just want to cut whatever they can in the park. But this isn’t on fraternity row. This is People's Park.” 


Berkeley Man’s Suicide Leads to Discovery of Body Buried Behind Wall

By Richard Brenneman
Friday December 19, 2008 - 03:02:00 PM
A private crime scene cleanup technician finishes donning his protective gear Thursday afternoon as he prepares to work on the Ashby Avenue room where police found a body buried behind a wall.
By Richard Brenneman
A private crime scene cleanup technician finishes donning his protective gear Thursday afternoon as he prepares to work on the Ashby Avenue room where police found a body buried behind a wall.

The dramatic suicide of a Berkeley man late Monday afternoon led police to a second gruesome discovery two days later, a badly decomposed male corpse walled up inside the a first floor laundry room. 

A caller’s report of a loud argument brought officers to the building at 2235 Ashby Ave. Monday night, and they were directed to the apartment of Hassan Bin Ali. 

Once the officers were inside the apartment, Bin Ali “pulled a handgun, put it to his head and subsequently took his own life,” said Berkeley police spokesperson Officer Andrew Frankel. 

The police daily bulletin for Monday lists the time of the shot as 5:55 p.m. 

Mortally wounded, he was rushed to Highland Hospital by a Berkeley Fire Department ambulance, where he was pronounced dead on arrival. 

Frankel said the dead man had lived alone, and officers don’t know who he was arguing with at the time they were called. “We haven’t heard any reports of anyone seen coming or going, so it could have been an argument over the telephone,” he said. 

During the subsequent investigation, “officers on the scene found evidence that led them to believe another crime may have been committed.” 

Based on that evidence, detectives obtained a search warrant and began a thorough search of the building, leading to the discovery of the body entombed behind a wall on the first floor. 

“I have no idea how long the body had been there,” he said. The body was in a state of advanced decomposition, and it was only the following day that forensic examiners were able to determine that the corpse was that of a male. 

While one published account cited a neighbor who had described Bin Ali as paranoid before his suicide, Frankel said he had spoken to a neighbor who had been shocked that the man had taken his own life. 

The Alameda County Coroner’s office is currently conducting an examination to determine what killed the concealed corpse, and until a finding is made, Frankel said the cause is being listed as “suspicious,” rather than as a homicide. 

“We’re still aggressively working the case,” he said. 

In a statement to the press released Friday afternoon, Berkeley Police Sgt Mary Kusmiss said “the Alameda County Coroner completed an autopsy yesterday. Due to decomposition of the body, the coroner will have to rely on dental records to confirm and/or rule out an identity.” 

Bin Ali is known to have had a son, and officers have been unable to locate him, “though we are in contact with other members of the family,” Frankel said. 

He asked anyone with any information about Bin Ali and the case to call police at 981-6900.  

Berkeley firefighters were called to the scene after the body was discovered to assist with biohazard containment, said Deputy Fire Chief Gil Dong.  

Berkeley police were responsible for retrieving the remains, which were contained in a large coffin-sized wooden box. 

“We provided tools and equipment,” said Deputy Chief Dong. 

Once police and firefighters had completed their phase of the removal, Arturo Sopon and his private cleanup team Morgan Environmental Service, an Oakland firm licensed by the state to handle hazardous waste and trauma scenes, arrived to finish the job, donning Tyvek suits, protective masks, boots and gloves, taping over the seams to prevent exposure. 

“We clean up bodily fluids,” Sopon said, adding that work often spiked over the Christmas season and during summer months. 


Berkeley Schools Top Bad Air Quality List

By Kristin McFarland
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 07:13:00 PM

Last week’s USA Today report that placed three Berkeley schools in the first percentile of schools with bad air quality has activists, community members and school directors in an uproar. 

The report studied industrial pollution outside 127,800 nationwide schools for eight months. Thirty-nine Berkeley schools made the list, all within the worst 55 percent. The Black Pine Circle School, the Via Center and the Nia House Learning Center, all located in West Berkeley, were in the first percentile, meaning that the air outside the schools is worse at only 377 other schools around the country. Berkeley High fell in the eighth percentile, with worse air at only 9,722 schools.  

Since the article’s publication, the issue has received wide media coverage with all involved parties pointing fingers at probable causes. For many, it’s one more example of the health hazards caused by Pacific Steel Casting Company; for some, it’s a sign that the Berkeley government should take a more active role in improving its own environment. 

“The city needs to aggressively enforce regulations that Pacific Steel is ignoring on a daily basis,” said Denny Larson, executive director of the Global Community Monitor, an El Cerrito–based nonprofit that works to empower industrial communities toward a healthier, sustainable future. “This should put the ball back in the City of Berkeley’s home court to enforce its own policies in regard to this.” 

Elisabeth Jewel, Pacific Steel’s representative and a partner at the Aroner, Jewel and Ellis firm in Berkeley, had not returned telephone re-quests for an interview by press time. 

Pacific Steel itself released a Health Risk Assessment Report (HRAR) in 2007 at the request of the Bay Area Air Quality Management District. According to the report, “The results of this HRAR indicate that cancer risks and non-cancer hazard indices estimated for individuals … who reside or attend day care or school in areas surrounding the Facility … do not exceed the Notification Levels established by the District.” 

In other words, no matter what independent reports say, state agencies have approved the air quality in West Berkeley. 

But there are inconsistencies in the study and in government air-quality monitoring that some say suggest a larger issue: Why haven’t we been paying more attention to the environment of our schools all along? 

According to Larson, the USA Today study was more comprehensive than any study to date because it included levels of manganese and other metals. The study, he said, was not conducted by “people running around with test kits,” as Pacific Steel representatives have suggested to other publications, but with science approved by the air-monitoring district.  

However, Larson also said that the study’s results are limited because it monitored the air quality for only eight months of the year; with a longer study, more schools might have made the list because of changes in the prevailing winds. 

The study has other, more apparent flaws, critics say. For example, schools within blocks of one another have differences of five percentage points between them, without any explanation of how the air quality could differ so vastly over such a short distance. Some of the schools are much closer to I-80 than others, and the study does not appear to differentiate between industrial contaminants and traffic contaminants. 

California Sen. Barbara Boxer, chair of the Senate Environment and Public Works Committee, has called for government action in monitoring the air quality at schools. 

“Expect this not to die down,” Larson of the Global Community Monitor said. Larson suggests that residents should write to the mayor, City Council or Senator Boxer. 

The Healthy Air Coalition of Berkeley and concerned parents meet on the third Thursday of every month from 7 to 9 p.m. at the Mt. Zion Missionary Baptist Church, 1400 Eighth St. The group aims to hold a summit in mid-January about the air quality of local schools.


Neighbors Win One, Lose One in Legal Actions Against Pacific Steel

By J. Douglas Allen-Taylor
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 07:14:00 PM

Neighborhood opponents of West Berkeley’s Pacific Steel Casting went one-for-two in Alameda County Superior Court legal decisions on Friday, with one judge overturning a previous Berkeley Small Claims Court ruling in favor of several PSC neighbors and, in a separate action, a second judge ruling that a class-action lawsuit against the steel foundry can go forward.  

In the appeal from the Small Claims Court decision, Super-ior Court Judge Jacqueline Tabor overruled a Novem- 

ber 2007 ruling, which had awarded $35,000 in damages to a group of West Berkeley neighbors who sued Pacific Steel Casting last year. In a terse, one paragraph judg- 

ment that did not explain the reasons for her decision, Tabor ordered plaintiff Thomas McGuire, a PSC neighbor, to pay Pacific Steel $85 in court costs.  

In the appeals procedure from a small claims decision, the Superior Court judge takes testimony and accepts evidence as fresh, disregarding anything that was earlier presented to the small claims court. 

Predictably, the antagonists in the small claims lawsuit took dramatically opposite views of the decision. 

“We’ve always known that if you take the time to look at the facts, then it’s clear that Pacific Steel cannot be held accountable for the activities of an entire industrial neighborhood located next to a congested freeway,” PSC President Joe Emmerichs said in a prepared statement. “We are very gratified that this judge clearly saw how unjustified these claims were. For PSC, and its 600-plus union employees, this verdict reinforces our belief that we cannot be recklessly blamed because we’re an easy target. We’ve been making steel castings in West Berkeley for a long time as the neighborhood has become increasingly residential. We’re going to continue to do everything we can to be a good neighbor while preserving good paying jobs and serving our customers with high quality castings.” 

But in a telephone interview, plaintiff Tom McGuire called the decision a “grave injustice” and a “hasty decision” by the Superior Court judge that was “a setback for the citizens of West Berkeley…Our nuisance claims were thrown out by the judge at the get-go. She didn’t give us a chance to make our claims. She let Pacific Steel railroad their way through. It was a David and Goliath case. We were being represented pro bono and they had attorneys whom they paid thousands of dollars.” 

But McGuire said that despite his opinion that the judge’s decision was unjust, he will not appeal, noting that a statement in the Oakland Tribune by PSC spokesperson Elisabeth Jewel that an appeal could only be filed on technical, procedural grounds was “probably true.”  

McGuire said, “I consider it a closed case.”  

In the class-action lawsuit filed in the name of Berkeley resident Rosie Lee Evans, Judge Bonnie Sabraw largely denied outright a motion by Pacific Steel Casting’s attorneys to have the case either thrown out entirely or possible punishments weakened, giving Berkeley attorney Tim Rumberger until mid-January to amend the original complaint. The judge’s ruling only allows the case to go forward, and is not an indication of whether the judge will ultimately rule in favor of the neighbors or Pacific Steel.  

According to Rumberger’s office in a story reported last April in the Daily Planet, the class-action lawsuit is seeking an injunction to require the foundry to “reduce its off-site toxic emissions impact to safe levels or relocate from this neighborhood,” and demands a “compensation to the thousands of neighbors affected daily by the noxious odors and toxins.”  

Pacific Steel attorneys have not yet filed a formal answer to the original complaint, seeking instead to have the case thrown out of court.


Church Burial Rights Gain Support in Berkeley

By Richard Brenneman
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 07:15:00 PM

Forget all that stuff about “godless Berkeley.” 

Truth be told, only the churched will be interred here, if new regulations passed last week by Berkeley’s Planning Commission are approved by the City Council, likely in early February. 

Commissioners approved language for a new ordinance to allow ashes of cremated corpses—“cremains” in the trade language mocked by the late Jessica Mitford, whose ashes couldn’t have been kept in Berkeley—to stay in the city, but only in columbaria on property maintained for religious assembly. 

Columbarium is a term of Latin origin, a word for dovecote, which the modern structure resembles in the multitude of niches used to house the encased ashes of the departed. 

Berkeley churches—but not non-churches—would be able have them, thanks to City Councilmember Laurie Capi-telli, who requested the action on behalf of his constituents at Northbrae Community Church, which is located at 941 The Alameda. 

The church, he wrote to colleagues in September, “is expanding their formal garden area north of the sanctuary and dedicating it to Native American spirituality. They also want to include a small columbarium for the remains of parishioners and community members.” 

Since ashes can’t be stored in Berkeley under existing law, Capitelli asked that the city change its zoning ordinance to allow columbarium construction so long as it’s “incidental” to “Religious Assembly Use” and contains no more than 400 niches and occupies no more than 5 percent of the church’s turf. 

Keeping the size small allows Berkeley’s columbaria to slip through the city’s business and zoning codes as an accessory structure, a term more commonly applied to garages and gardening sheds.  

In other words, unless you’re happy to let your mortal remains repose on sacred soil, they have to be stored elsewhere. 

Berkeley banned columbaria along with crematoria, cemeteries and crypts around the same time San Francisco evicted its dead to Colma due to city public health and odor concerns. 

Church member Bob Davis, a former zoning officer, said cremation is the most environmentally friendly manner of handling human remains. “I’m rapidly approaching the final exit, and I’m looking for a quick decision,” he told commissioners. 

The church’s proposal called for 500 niches, which Davis said “would probably take 100 years or so to fill,” concealed behind a six-foot fence and occupying about one percent of the church’s lot. 

City staff proposed a 400-niche maximum but expanded potential land area to five percent. 

Gene Poschman, the only commissioner to abstain when it came time to vote, said he was concerned that staff had proposed allowing columbaria under the city’s accessory structure ordinance, which he described as one of the city’s most problematic code sections. 

What if the church sells the property? What happens to the ashes then? “It might be Bekins time,” he quipped, referring to the van and storage firm.  

Was the site reserved only for church members? he asked. 

Primarily, Davis said. 

“We are a community church,” said Northbrae treasurer John Oldham. “You don’t have to be a member to go to church,” he said, and the congregation wasn’t planning on a rule to bar non-members.  

Patti Dacey, the only commissioner to oppose the new regulation, said she didn’t have any problems with columbaria in Berkeley—just their restriction to religious assembly sites. 

“It seems a little strange to me that only people who are churched can have their ashes in Berkeley,” she said. “That does seem to me to be a problem.” 

And it’s also a problem for David Silverman, the national spokesperson of the American Atheists. The organization has fought legal battles for the rights of the godless for the last 45 years. 

“There are lots of atheists in Berkeley, and now they have fewer rights than people who believe in an invisible man in the sky,” he said. “This is essentially a two-class system, with religious people obeying one set of laws and non-religious people another.” 

And it’s not just atheists who wouldn’t want to be buried on church property. “Neither do pagans or Jews or Moslems,” he said. 

Silverman said the new Berkeley regulations were part of a disturbing trend in federal and local regulations granting churches expanded rights unavailable to the churchless. 

In Southern California, the Cornerstone Community Church in Simi Valley is challenging a Ventura County Planning Commission veto of its plans to build a seven-building complex on land the county has set aside for open space. 

The church contends that the Religious Land Use and Institutional Persons Act passed by Congress in 2000 preempts state and local land-use regulations, including the county ordinance barring church construction in dedicated open space. 

Silverman said the Mormon church has used the law to build “huge monstrosities” in residential neighborhoods, “because they like their churches to really stick out."


Council Fails to Act on Cell Phone Antenna Applications

By J. Douglas Allen-Taylor
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 07:17:00 PM

Berkeley City Council stumbled (again) on Tuesday over the vexing issue of expanding cell-phone tower facilities in the city, failing to decide on a Verizon Wireless application for 1540 Shattuck Ave. and failing for the third straight meeting to either grant a hearing or dismiss a similar appeal for ZAB approval of a T-Mobile facility at 1725 University Ave. 

Tuesday night’s debate sometimes got a bit testy, with Councilmember Gordon Wozniak—generally a cell-phone antennae facility supporter—appearing to accuse Councilmember Max Ander-son—a committed cell-phone antennae expansion opponent—of grandstanding. 

With wireless communications companies insisting they must steadily increase the number and location of cell-phone tower facilities in Berkeley in order to keep up with the rising demand of cell-phone users, and several groups of neighbors fighting pitched political battles to either limit or keep out entirely such facilities in their neighborhoods, the issue of denial or approval of cell-phone tower applications is becoming an increasingly regular topic at council meetings. 

On the 1725 University Ave. issue, where T-Mobile is seeking to place eight towers and related equipment, councilmembers voted 4-0-3 (Anderson, Susan Wengraf, Kriss Worthington, Mayor Tom Bates, yes; Laurie Capitelli, Darryl Moore and Wozniak, abstaining; Jesse Arreguin, absent; Maio, recused) on Anderson’s motion to grant a public hearing. The motion failed because it did not receive five votes. The issue comes back to the council on Jan. 13.  

If the council can’t muster enough votes to grant a hearing or deny the appeal by then, ZAB approval of the T-Mobile request automatically goes into effect. 

Following the hearing on the appeal of the ZAB approval of the 1540 Shattuck Ave. facility—where Verizon wants to place 10 antennas—council failed on a 2-3-5 vote to uphold the citizen appeal and deny the Verizon application (Anderson, Worthington, yes; Wozniak, no; Maio, Moore, Capitelli, Wengraf, Bates, abstaining; Arreguin, absent) and then failed on a follow-up 3-3-2 vote to approve the Verizon permit (Moore, Capitelli, Wozniak, yes;Anderson, Worthington, Bates, no; Maio, Wengraf, abstaining; Arreguin, absent). 

Some councilmembers who abstained on one of the two votes—therefore insuring an eventual Verizon victory if the council cannot get enough votes to deny the application—said they did so only because they felt hamstrung by the federal Telecommunications Act, which puts tight controls on the discretion local governments can use to deny cell-phone tower applications. 

“A lot of us are very conflicted on this,” Maio said. “I don’t want to keep voting for these things. But we don’t have the money to keep going to court.” 

Bates agreed, saying, “I believe we don’t have any choice. I don’t like it. I hate it. But we have to do it.”  

Bates added that “immediately after the vote we should bring this issue back before Congress. The best way we can do this is to fight it in the right way—in Congress, not in the courts.”  

Noting that it was “not right” that current federal law prevents local governments from considering the possible health detriments of cell-phone towers when considering applications, Bates said he would use his influence with the National Conference of Mayors to advance the Congressional fight to amend the Telecommunications Act. 

But earlier, cell-phone antenna facility expansion opponent Anderson called for court action on the issue, at least by outside parties. 

“This issue is not going away,” Anderson said. “You can’t believe that you’ve beaten us down [because we can’t consider the health aspects of cell-phone towers] and we’re no longer going to be concerned about our well-being.”  

Anderson added that “I hope somebody gets up enough nerve to challenge [the Telecommunications Act] in federal court.” 

Speaking immediately after Anderson, however, Wozniak spoke against denying the Verizon application, implying that such a denial might put Berkeley back in court.  

“The record is very strongly against us,” Wozniak said. “[Our] decision must be based on whether there is a need for this [cell-phone antennae] site.” Saying that the proof presented for such a need by Verizon was “incontrovertible,” Wozniak said that “we have to pick our battles and pick the ones we can win. Grandstanding is popular with the crowd, but it’s irresponsible.” 

Feeling that Wozniak’s words about grandstanding had been aimed at Anderson, Worthington then called the use of the term “inappropriate and out of order,” adding that “Max Anderson has consistently taken a principled stand” on cell-phone antennae issues.  

And when Bates, sitting at the center of the dais between Worthington and Wozniak, turned to Worthington and tried to conciliate, saying “I don’t think it [meaning Wozniak’s remarks] was meant that way,” Anderson snapped, “Are you sure?” 

Meanwhile, while the deadlock in the two cell-phone tower appeals was similar, the results of the 1540 Shattuck Ave. application are a bit more complicated. 

Earlier this month, Acting City Attorney Zach Cowan revealed that following a Verizon federal lawsuit over several Berkeley cell-phone tower facility applications, Berkeley and Verizon had entered into an agreement with Verizon that required a council decision—one way or the other—on the 1540 Shattuck Ave. application by Tuesday night’s meeting. 

Cowan told councilmembers Tuesday night that the council can still act on the 1540 Shattuck appeal when it meets after the turn of the year, but said that the failure to decide on Tuesday left the possibility that Verizon could now immediately return to federal court and press its claims.


Conference Calls for Strategies To End America’s Prison Cycle

By J. Douglas Allen-Taylor
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 07:15:00 PM
Nation of Islam Minister Christopher Muhammad of San Francisco speaks at Saturday’s Stanley “Tookie” Williams Legacy Summit while Bill Ayers looks on.
'Reginald James/HARAMBEENEWS.COM
Nation of Islam Minister Christopher Muhammad of San Francisco speaks at Saturday’s Stanley “Tookie” Williams Legacy Summit while Bill Ayers looks on.

More than 300 ’60s and ’70s era radicals and students not born until the ’80s gathered at Oakland’s Merritt College on Saturday to honor a man executed by the State of California three years ago and to hear strategies to end the cycle of criminalization of American communities and the country’s re-volving prison door and the death penalty. 

The occasion was the second annual Stanley “Tookie” Williams Legacy Summit, held at Merritt’s Huey P. Newton/Bobby Seale Student Lounge in the name of a man who went from founder of Los Angeles’ violent Crips street gang to convicted murderer to internationally famous author and crusader for street peace to Nobel Peace Prize nominee. 

The sponsors of the summit, Richmond-based STW (Stanley “Tookie” Williams) Legacy Network, are trying to build a national network of activists to, among other things, sponsor peacekeeping efforts to end street violence within urban inner cities and to lobby for progressive state and federal legislation. 

Presenters at the four-hour conference included Chicago university professor Bill Ayers—the former radical made infamous during the recent presidential campaign for his association with then-candidate Barack Obama—Ayer’s wife Bernadine Dohrn, another well-known ‘60s and ‘70s radical, and former Black Panther Party Chairperson Elaine Brown. 

Ayers talked of going out to Chicago’s Grant Park on last November’s election night to gather in celebration with “one million people brought together by love, hope, and unity.” Referring to the election of Barack Obama, Ayers, who is white, said that “a blow was struck against white supremacy that night, and that’s a good thing. That night the spirit was ‘yes we can,’ and that’s the spirit today.” 

He called for an “urban public school bailout” similar to the recent Wall Street bailout, adding that the country needed an “ongoing dialogue to rethink the purpose of education in a democracy.” 

And Elaine Brown, who now lives in Savannah, sharply criticized the nation’s prison system, saying that while the use of torture is being debated and condemned around the world, it is regularly being practiced in the nation’s prisons.  

“They’re going to close [the prison at] Guantanamo Bay” because of allegations of torture of foreign nationals by U.S. security officials, Brown said, “but not a word is being said about Pelican Bay and all the dungeons there.” 

Pelican Bay is the California prison where the state houses prisoners it considers the most violent and dangerous. There have been numerous allegations of abuse of prisoners at the facility over the years. 

Brown, an associate of Panther Party founders Bobby Seale and Huey P. Newton, called for the end of three-strikes laws across the nation and “the creation of a new Freedom Movement.” 

And noting that the cities of Oakland, Berkeley, Richmond, and San Francisco all had mayors, councilmembers, and legislators who were allies of the progressive movement, San Francisco Nation of Islam mosque minister Christopher Muhammad urged conference participants to use that influence to change city and state policies.  

“It’s not enough to simply meet here in conference,” Muhammad said. “We have to begin to shape policies and make legislation.” 

And Stan Muhammad of the H.E.L.P.E.R. Alliance Cease Fire Committee of South Central Los Angeles talked about efforts in that community to organize and promote a gang cease fire between the Crips and Bloods gangs called for by Tookie Williams, among others. Stan Muhammad said that his group, all of whom are ex-gang members, did training in the city of Richmond last year among that city’s violent gang-bangers.  

“We came up several times, and in the period we were there, the killings went down,” Stan Muhammad said. He said the Alliance’s efforts in Richmond ended only because the “financial resources to support it went down, so we couldn’t continue,” but he said the group was willing to return to Richmond to continue peacekeeping efforts among that city’s gangs, and would welcome coming to Oakland as well, if they were invited and if financial sponsorship could be arranged. 

While Ayers and Brown were the headliners at Saturday’s conference, the most dramatic moment of the day’s events was a live call to the conference from San Quentin’s Death Row by Death Row inmate Kevin Cooper. 

Cooper had been scheduled to call in at 1:30 p.m. to speak to conference participants, but the scheduled time came and went with no call. It was only at 2 p.m., when presenter Crystal Bibby was reading a previously prepared statement by Cooper, that the call suddenly came in. But with Cooper’s voice breaking in and out over the phone line, conference participants could not hear him directly, but could only listen to Bibby as she alternately heard what Cooper had to say over the phone and passed it on. 

Asked to give examples of the dehumanization of Death Row prisoners, Cooper gave a vivid description of a full-body cavity search done on him by guards in 2004 while they were preparing him for his execution, an execution that was later put off. Cooper described how the procedure is deliberately designed to turn inmates into animals in a process similar to the inspection of captive Africans 150 years ago on the American slave blocks. Some audience members visibly squirmed during the description, and then sat almost in stunned silence as Cooper—through Bibby—concluded, “My God, we have to stop this madness.” 

Presenters also read statements from several other Death Row inmates, including one from inmate Correll Thomas who said that guards once confiscated and presumably destroyed several years of letters he had written and was saving for eventual presentation to his young son. Thomas said, “I’m no angel and don’t pretend to be, but I’m not a monster either.”  

Presenter Brandy Howard broke down in tears before continuing with the statement of Death Row inmate Richard Boyd that San Quentin prisoners “are driven to mental madness and chaos.” 

“We’re at the beginning stages of galvanizing an incredible movement,” STW founder Barbara Becnel of Richmond told the gathering. “We’re not going to wait for our issues to get on the table. We’re going to put our issues on the table.” 

Williams was executed in San Quentin’s gas chamber in December of 2005 still denying he was guilty of the four 1979 shotgun deaths he was convicted of committing. Becnel worked closely with Williams over the last years of his life, editing his children’s books and serving as a witness at his execution. 


Hillside School Neighbors Seek to Purchase Playground

By Kristin McFarland
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 06:44:00 PM

Hillside Elementary School, a local and national historic landmark, stands on the brink of yet another reinvention. 

The Tudor-style building, located at 1581 LeRoy Ave., was built by Walter H. Ratcliff Jr. in 1925 to replace the Virginia Street location that burned down in 1923. The school operated until 1983, when it was closed due to declining enrollment. 

Because it is located on traces of the Hayward fault, the building cannot be used as a public school, and in the past 20 years it has played home to a variety of tenants, including artists, the Berkeley Chess School, and several pre-schools. 

But in September, the school district approved the sale of the surplus, run-down property. 

The Hillside Association of Berkeley, made up of community members, school alumni and friends, now seeks an agreement with the city that would allow the community itself to help pay for the purchase of the playground section of the property. 

“The city would love to have it as a park but has financial constraints,” said Cynthia Cowgill, coordinator of the Hillside Association’s Playground Committee. “We hope to partner with the city to provide financial help.” 

The Berkeley Unified School District declared the Hillside School property surplus in 2007 and put it up for sale in October 2008. 

Under the California Naylor Act of 1982, cities or counties are allowed to buy a portion of surplus school properties used for outdoor recreation at a significantly reduced price. The city could buy up to 30 percent of the property for 25 percent of the market price. 

When it became clear that the city could not afford the $250,000 reduced price tag, the Hillside Association took action, working with the city to propose a Mello-Roos Community Facilities District, a neighborhood tax-assessment district that will reimburse the city through slightly increased property taxes over the next 10-12 years. To create the district, 67 percent of the 150-200 affected households will have to approve the proposal in a mail-in election. 

“If the city goes forward, the neighborhood will support the city,” said Peter Lydon, secretary of the Hillside Association. 

Christine Daniel, deputy city manager, said the school board will not enter into discussion with the city until mid-January and that a formal proposal cannot be made until the school board has decided if it wants to accept the purchase under the Naylor Act.  

The desired parcel of land is an acre of paved playground, complete with basketball goals, jungle gyms, swing sets and a small baseball diamond. 

Once purchased, the playground would continue to serve not only as a haven for local kids and basketball players, but also as a gathering point for emergency vehicles or residents in case of a fire or earthquake, Lydon said. 

“It has served as a de facto playground/park for years,” Cowgill said. “Kids learn to ride their bicycles there.” 

The school building itself remains unsold and troublesome for BUSD and any potential buyers. The school district must decide who will buy it and for what purpose, while the new owner will face significant repairs to bring the building up to code. 

Lew Jones, facilities manager at BUSD, said that the partial sale of the Hillside property is potentially problematic for the school district, and the city would rather sell the whole property at once.  

City Manager Phil Kamlarz, who has been working with the Hillside Association, is on vacation and could not confirm the details of the current negotiations. 

Negotiations on the playground, including appraisals, definition of the land parcel and implementation of the community facilities district, will go forward after the new year, when the city and school district must navigate the “twists and turns” of the Naylor Act, Jones said.


Zoning Board Approves Shattuck Offices, Delays Action on Kashani Condos

By Richard Brenneman
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 06:45:00 PM

Berkeley’s Zoning Adjustments Board delayed approval of developer Ali Kashani’s five-story condo project at the corner of Ashby and San Pablo avenues last week. 

The Thursday decision came after Steven Wollmer, a land use activist, pointed to problems in the wording of the proposed use permit’s handling of the project’s affordable housing units. 

The 98-unit, five-story, project is being developed by Kashani and his business partner Mark Rhoades, formerly the city’s land use planning manager. 

The board also approved a three-story office building at 1926 Shattuck Ave., the demolition of a once-popular drive-in, a wine tasting room in the Elmwood and a fast food eatery on 10th Street. 

 

Shattuck office 

The new building on Shattuck that ZAB approved will serve two purposes. First, it will provide expanded quarters for a leading seismic engineering firm, and, second, it will be used as a demonstration model of new engineering techniques. 

“We want to showcase our building so it reflects who we are and what we do,” said Steven B. Tipping, a principal in Tipping Mar + Associates, the same firm which did the earthquake engineering for the David Brower Center. 

The new structure “will be the smallest base-isolated building in the U.S. when it’s done,” Tipping said, “a demonstration building.” 

Tipping and fellow principal David Mar brought a group of employees and neighbors, who praised and occasionally applauded their proposal. 

In approving the building, the city waived parking requirements and regulations which would have block construction of a third floor. 

While city staff had sought a fee in lieu of providing required parking, the board rejected the notion, citing company programs designed to encourage workers to use transit or bike, with only Sara Shumer and Chair Rick Judd looking for something more for the city. 

The board also overruled a proposal from Planning Director Dan Marks to seek some tradeoff for allowing some of the upper part of the building to overhang the sidewalk, which the board also rejected. 

Judd said that if the city wants to impose tradeoffs, then it should do so through changing the city’s regulations accordingly. 

“The Planning Commission of Berkeley really needs to do its job,” Judd said, and set general policy rather than leaving ZAB to decide on a case-by-case basis. “This is not our business.” 

 

Ashby Arts 

Developer Ali Kashani spoke on two projects Thursday night. First, he had nice things to say about the Tipping Mar building on Shattuck, and he later had even nicer things to say about Ashby Arts, his five-story condo project at 1920 Ashby Ave., at the southeast corner of San Pablo Avenue—one of the city’s gateway intersections. 

While the board had been scheduled to vote on the project, action was delayed because of problems Wollmer pointed out in the way the developers had calculated the costs of units to be made available as affordable housing—a process regulated by both municipal and state regulations. 

While the city hopes to use the project to leverage a $9 million state grant to fund streetscape improvements on San Pablo and Kashani’s Citycentric Investments hopes to maximize their project, Wollmer said the developer had failed to meet the basic affordability requirements laid out in state law. 

The state density bonus and Berkeley’s own inclusionary ordinance regulate pricing for so-called affordable housing units included in market-rate apartment and condo projects. 

Under the permit brought before ZAB, Kashani would have distributed the affordable units through the middle three-fourths of the building, leaving the top floor units all at market rate—whether rented or sold. 

In return for 15 affordable units, Citycentric was to get a density bonus of 24 units, nearly a one-third increase in the size otherwise allowed by city regulations. 

Wollmer said that his calculations showed that the projected prices for would-be affordable units were actually higher than allowed by state regulations, and city staff agreed that the figures needed to be recalculated. 

In the end, the board voted unanimously to continue the hearing so that staff could run the numbers and return with a revised permit proposal. 

Judd said he was also concerned because of the cumulative impact of seven projects approved in the area which, taken together, will delay left turns at the intersection by more than four minutes by 2030. The new Berkeley Bowl a block away is one of the seven projects.  

“This area is where we have done the most damage in the city by approving projects without (traffic) mitigations,” he said. 

But member Bob Allen said that the delays added by the Kashani projects were minimal, and praised what he said “is going to be a very successful building.” 

 

Other action 

The board also approved a permit to open a wine and beer shop with a wine- tasting room at 2949 College Ave. Earlier objections from neighbors had been resolved, and the item was approved as part of the night’s consent calendar. 

Also issued by consent was a demolition permit for 3020 San Pablo Ave., where Yerba Buena Builders of San Francisco had sought approval to level the old Twin Castle drive-in, where the board has already issued a use permit for a new mixed-use residential-over-commercial project. 

The old drive-in, which had offered one of the most eclectic menus in the city, had been heavily vandalized after the eatery closed, prompting a city nuisance finding that led to the demolition permit. 

The board also approved without discussion architect Kava Massih’s request for a permit to build a quick-service restaurant at the site of an old nursery at 1326 10th St.


Two Marina Sites Emerge for Ferry Terminal

By Richard Brenneman
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 06:47:00 PM

Sprawling parking lots proposed at either of the two Berkeley Marina sites picked as potential locations for a new transbay ferry service have sparked concerns among the city’s planning commissioners. 

Four sites have been proposed for an East Bay terminal, three of them in Berkeley and one in Albany, but only the two marina sites are viable candidates, city Planning and Development Director Dan Marks told commissioners last week. 

The other sites—one at the foot of Gilman Street and the other at the foot of Buchanan Street in Albany—have “significant environmental impacts and the cities of Berkeley and Albany have opposed them for a long time,” Marks said. 

The city’s Transportation Commission is the city’s lead agency for assessing the project, and the San Francisco Bay Area Water Emergency Transportation Authority (WETA) will meet in Berkeley on Jan. 8 to pick the Locally Preferred Alternative, Marks said. 

“Don’t let the name fool you,” Marks told commissioners. “It’s not about emergency transportation service; it’s about ferry service.” 

The two most probable sites, one on the windward side of the breakwater north of Hs Lordships and the other adjacent to and south of the Doubletree Hotel along Marina Boulevard, would result in major landscape changes as a result of the need to accommodate 400 parking spaces. 

“They want our support, but they’re going at it in a rather slapdash manner,” said commission Chair James Samuels. 

“No comment,” said Marks. 

Commissioner James Novosel said he was troubled by the parking proposal. “The one at Hs Lordships flattens out the landscaping and gets rid of the privacy screen, and the parking for the other is just godawful,” he said, and both have “an overwhelming, unappealing aesthetic.” 

“We’re hamstrung here,” said Sam-uels. “What if we had a two-story building for parking like what you find at a shopping center?” he mused. 

Commissioner Gene Poschman raised a broader question. “To what extent are the issues of sustainability, carbon footprints, etc., considered in the EIR? From what I’ve read about ferries, they really have minimal impacts on reduction of greenhouse gases or carbon footprints.” 

Dorothy Walker, the newest member of the commission, called the parking proposals in the draft EIR “a terrible use of waterfront land” and said the transportation authority should consider a structure instead. 

But she did like the ferry if it would result in shuttle service to the UC campus (her former employer) and North Berkeley. 

“So the shuttles would be for people who live in condos in downtown Berkeley who commute to work in downtown San Francisco,” Poschman responded. 

“We have an opportunity for a well-funded public agency to help us with our public transportation,” said Walker. “And if we can get them to provide some service that augments what we already have,” then Berkeley should avail itself of the opportunity. 

“I don’t know why they wouldn’t just stay on BART,” said commissioner Patti Dacey, who said Walker seemed to be suggesting that “if we’re going to have the shuttle, we should have the ferry, even if it makes no sense.” 

The full document is available online at the WETA website: http://www. watertransit.org/newsInformation/publicnotices.aspx 

The two marina sites would require considerably less dredging than the sites on either side of Golden Gate Fields. Total project costs, including construction and the cost of new ferries, is estimated at $58.1 million.


Fire Department Log

By Richard Brenneman
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 06:49:00 PM

Boat blaze 

Berkeley firefighters rushed to the marina Tuesday afternoon, after a caller reported heavy smoke pouring from a boat moored at the end of D Dock. 

The emergency crew discovered flames in the cabinets in the vessel’s galley and quickly extinguished the blaze, said Deputy Fire Chief Gil Dong. The blaze was later determined to have been caused by electrical system problems. 

Welding fire 

A homeowner working with an arc welder Sunday afternoon managed to ignite cardboard covering the floor of a detached garage, and the resulting fire caused heavy damage to the structure and its contents. 

Deputy Chief Dong said the fire was reported at 5 p.m., and when firefighters arrived moments later they found heavy flames and smoke coming from the building in the 1700 block of San Lorenzo Avenue, which they quickly extinguished. 

The fire caused about $10,000 in loss to the structure and its contents, he said. 

New firefighters 

Berkeley has 11 new firefighters this week after graduation ceremonies Friday, which fills the department’s budgeted slots. 

The new graduates come from a diverse range of backgrounds, said Deputy Chief Dong. One was recruited from the New York Fire Department, another from the San Francisco department and a third from the Vallejo firefighters. 

“Five of them either grew up in Berkeley or already lived here,” he said. 

 

Holiday news 

About 125 volunteers from the BFD, Berkeley Lions Club and the Alameda County Fire Reserve gathered in Berkeley Saturday morning to deliver more than 400 food baskets and holiday greetings to seniors and the less fortunate. 

And speaking of the holidays, said the deputy chief, “be sure to be vigilant in this cold weather and keep those holiday trees well-watered.”


Police Search for Three Men Involved in Pharmacy Burglary

Bay City News
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 06:50:00 PM

Berkeley police are searching for three men responsible for the burglary of more than $10,000 worth of prescription drugs from Elephant Pharmacy around 1 a.m. on Dec. 9. 

The pharmacy’s surveillance cameras captured the three men  

arriving in a 1990s model two-door white sedan and gaining entry into the store  

by prying open the back door, police said. 

The suspects took several hundred pills from the store at 1607 Shattuck Ave., according to police. 

Anyone who may have information about the crime is urged to call the Berkeley Police Department Property Crimes Detail at 981-5737 or the non-emergency dispatch line at 981-5900. Callers wishing to remain anonymous can also call the Bay Area Crime Stoppers tip line at (800) 222-TIPS. 


Shopping with Old Friends: A Day on Piedmont Avenue

By Anna Mindess Special to the Planet
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 07:04:00 PM
A mud pie from Fenton’s.
By Lila Volkas
A mud pie from Fenton’s.
Flowers from Mille Fiori.
By Lila Volkas
Flowers from Mille Fiori.
The Piedmont Cobbler’s sign advertises shoe repair services.
By Lila Volkas
The Piedmont Cobbler’s sign advertises shoe repair services.
 An aisle from Piedmont Stationers.
By Lila Volkas
An aisle from Piedmont Stationers.

The charm of Piedmont Avenue in North Oakland is its mix of newness and nostalgia; like a big family, where young and old live side by side.  

The matriarch of the clan is venerable Piedmont Grocery, at 106 and still going strong. Assistant manager Dave Howland has worked there 27 years and explains, “When you’re the little guy, you have to have a niche and ours is service, service, service.”  

A century ago, that meant food delivered to customers’ homes by horse drawn carriage. Today it means a restyled market with a huge salad bar, wide array of prepared foods and extensive wine selection. Exotic imports like Hungarian hot paprika, Turkish Black Mulberry Vinegar and French hazelnut oil please both consumers and chefs. Howland reports that Michael Wild, owner-chef of celebrated Bay Wolf restaurant down the block, often pops in to pick up some produce or meat. Wild probably appreciates the cadre of experienced butchers—a throwback to a time when workers manning meat counters were all dedicated professionals. 

Centered along an eight block stretch with some spill-over onto neighboring streets, the Piedmont family of stores is a self-sufficient one with almost everything one could need; from restaurants that consistently appear on “Bay Area 10 Best” lists, to a library, movie theater, and post office. But nestled between the ubiquitous nail salons and dry cleaners are one-of-a-kind gems that make Piedmont Avenue worth visiting. 

Shelly Lowe has owned Piedmont Stationers for almost 20 years and says, “I try to have stuff that you don’t see everywhere.” That includes distinctively French Clairefontaine notebooks, British Tollit and Harvey organizing packets, buttery Italian leather bound journals and teensy Japanese stickers and magnets.  

“What I like about Piedmont,” says Lowe, “is the diversity: we get kids on bikes, college students and elderly folks from Piedmont Gardens retirement home—a nice mix of people from funky to upscale.” 

Next door, Spectator Books is a bibliophile’s dream, with three large rooms of pre-read books lovingly housed and awaiting their next owners. This is made easier because the volumes are organized on carefully labeled shelves that take you from Infant Care to Home Repair, Civil War to Reincarnation, Cage Birds to Opera. 

If magazines are your preferred read, Issues, on nearby Glen Avenue has all the esoteric titles you could want, such as Fly Fisherman, Billiard Digest and Dairy Goat Journal. Readers of Cigar Aficionado are probably well acquainted with the Piedmont Tobacconist across the street, a cozy spot to enjoy pipes and cigars. 

Piedmont Cinema on the corner of Linda Avenue is the oldest operating movie theater in Oakland and began showing silent films in 1917. It is now a tri-plex and part of Landmark Theaters, but still holds old-time raffles on Saturday nights, when moviegoers win prizes related to a featured film. When My Big Fat Greek Wedding was playing, the prize was a dinner coupon from Simply Greek restaurant down the block. 

No matter what film is being shown at Piedmont Cinema, there is probably a matching restaurant nearby, since the Piedmont Avenue food scene circles the globe. Little Shin Shin is a popular family place with a wall of awards for best Chinese restaurant. Their lemon chicken is crunchy, sweet and satisfying. Lotus Thai’s calming décor is in yellows and purples with flowers and fountains. Remove your shoes and sit at a low table to enjoy zesty grilled salmon served on banana leaves.  

You can find friendly fish tacos at Baja Taqueria, Caribbean dishes at Tropix, French country cooking at Jojo’s, Sicilian pizza at Lococo’s, Mediterranean-Thai fusion at cozy Ninna’s and Turkish specialties at Zati’s. What other street could support three Japanese restaurants in one block? Kotobuki for the freshest sushi, Aki Sushi, whose Nabeyaki Soba soup will warm you up on a chilly day, and the diminutive Geta Sushi for a quick lunch.  

Some of the “new kids” in the family have already made quite a name for themselves: Spanish Cesar’s trendy tapas, Italian Dopo’s thin crust pizza and Xyclo’s edgy modern Vietnamese get rave reviews in print and in person.  

For families with children, Piedmont can supply a host of necessities, diversions and treats. Crackerjacks sells new and used maternity, baby and toddler clothes, baby gear and toys. Kids love searching the aisles at Teddies Party Store for party favors and decorations for every holiday and leaving with a jaunty balloon tied around their wrist.  

Dr. Comics and Mr. Games just celebrated its 20th anniversary. The store sells board games, collectible cards and action figures, but its real focus is the collection of thousands of new and antique comics and graphic novels. Classic DC comics like Superman and Batman share the space with the latest Japanese Manga. The store even offers a Saver System for 300 regular customers who have the latest installments of their favorite titles held for them in a special rack.  

When the kids clamor for a treat, head to Piedmont Café and Bakery for donuts or Yogurt Delite for frozen yogurt. For more sophisticated palettes, Tango Gelato serves up seasonal flavors like Rosemary and Pumpkin, plus a selection of gourmet chocolates. The oldest sweet stop on the avenue, Fenton’s Creamery, which opened at a nearby location in 1894, would qualify as the indulgent grandma in the family of Piedmont Avenue. This beloved, family-owned, independent ice cream store still whips up its goods on the premises. Try a crab sandwich followed by a Black and Tan sundae made with toasted almond ice cream, overflowing with homemade caramel and fudge toppings.  

After all the treats, the kids can work off their sugar rush at Kids in Motion Gymnastics which offers classes, camps and birthday parties. 

While the kids are busy with gymnastics, give yourself a break. Take a yoga class at Piedmont Yoga Studio or a hot soak and a massage at Piedmont Springs and then relax with a nice cup of tea at L’Amyx Tea Bar or a sip a latte at Gaylords, while you peruse the latest art works on the walls. 

Bees Knees is the fashionable auntie of the avenue who will share her treasures: sublimely scented French tulip candles, Romanian crystal goblets, Re-mix retro shoes and a back room with lacey dresses and pleated plaid jackets. Co-owner Alisa Rudloff describes the clothing as, “Fun, creative and definitely not boring.” 

Two stores over is A Step Forward, a tiny place, crammed to the rafters with shoes, clogs, boots, bags, shawls and skirts where you can pick up the latest style. Or you can create your own fashions. Pick out material at Piedmont Fabric and stroll over to Sew Images for sewing machine sales and repairs and sewing classes. Piedmont Yarn and Apparel features natural fibers and a knitting circle on Friday afternoons. 

Nothing completes a family like a couple of uncles who can be relied on to repair anything. At Jakob’s Watch Repair and the Piedmont Cobbler, Jakob Roudi and Carlos Fuentes have been fixing clocks and wristwatches, heels and soles, (respectively) for decades. 

So if your own nuclear family is a bit skimpy, you can always drop in to the merchants on Piedmont Avenue. They will quickly adopt you as one of their own. 

 

 

 


School Acknowleged for Closing Achievement Gap

By Kristin McFarland
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 06:45:00 PM

Berkeley’s Malcolm X Arts and Academics Magnet, an elementary school that integrates art and academics, has been awarded the Title One Academic Achievement award for 2008-2009. 

The award honors 200 Title I-funded California schools that show academic growth for two or more years or that significantly close the achievement gap. Schools must have an Academic Performance Index (API) score above its category’s median score, have met their API goals for the past two years, and show strong API growth for at least one of its socioeconomically disadvantage subgroups. 

For the staff and parents of Malcolm X, the award recognizes years of dedication to improving education for all students. 

“We’ve been working on our mission to close the achievement gap for a good three years of focus on it,” said Cheryl Chinn, principal of Malcolm X. 

“The award is for schools that really improve their performance with economically disadvantaged students,” said Michael Mascuch, chair of the school’s site governance council. “What makes Malcolm X’s achievement remarkable is that economically disadvantaged students have made really significant academic progress alongside their peers in other subgroups. The success of the disadvantaged students has not come at the expense of other students; instead, all kids are thriving together.” 

The school developed a three-pronged strategic plan that focused on monitoring and assessing underperforming students, strong intervention programs to help students before they fall behind, and teacher collaboration and professional development. 

“One is not isolated from the others,” Chinn said. “You have to have each piece.” 

In a program called Project Connect, Malcolm X teachers target four students functioning below their grade level for twice weekly after-school tutoring and additional help. The school also has a program designed to help disadvantaged first-graders meet their reading goals. Additionally, parents are required to attend Saturday workshops focused on helping their children reach academic success. 

The school has employed training from the Foundation for Comprehensive Early Learning Literacy and Extended Literacy Learning, which provides literacy-based continual professional development for teachers. The program targets new teachers but offers ongoing professional development for all staff members. 

Kathy Burns, a parent of Malcolm X students and former member of the school’s site governance council, credited the dedication of the staff to programs like Project Connect as the key to the school’s success. 

“I think it was a very concerted effort among the teachers to try and track the underperforming students,” she said. 

Although Chinn emphasized that all of the approaches working in tandem led to the school’s success, Mascuch, Burns and other parents identify Chinn’s leadership as a driving force in reaching its goals. 

The elementary school has worked carefully to spread its funding and attention across its art programs and its academic intervention programs, balancing the needs of both gifted and struggling children. 

“The visual and performing arts provide learning opportunities that enhance classroom teaching, and enable delivery of education to multiple and diverse learning styles among the student population,” Mascuch said. “The Malcolm X school community appreciates and supports this combination of arts and academics in education, which is yet another reason for the school’s strong performance.” 

Although the award offers no financial bonuses, the symbolic value of the recognition is sufficient reward for the members of a diverse school community. 

“I think the gratification that we’re achieving our goal of closing the achievement gap is enough to keep us working hard,” Chinn said. 

Recipients of the award will be honored at an awards ceremony and banquet in Orange County on April 28, 2009. 

 

 


Prime West Berkeley Property Headed for the Marketplace

By Richard Brenneman
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 06:47:00 PM

Berkeley’s largest private development site—8.2 acres adjacent to Aquatic Park—is coming on the market, and the owners want the city to ease the rules. 

Their target market would be startup companies created to commercialize technology developed at UC Berkeley and the lab that gave the United States its Secretary of Energy. 

James B. Bohar, a development executive with international brokerage firm Cushman & Wakefield, recently told planning commissioners that the owners are looking for “flexibility,” a word so polarizing it had led the city planning staff to drop it from the title of their look at a change in zoning rules for West Berkeley. 

The site, bounded by Bolivar Drive on the west and the Union Pacific right of way between Aquatic Park between Addison Street and Bancroft Way, is owned by a family which has hired the brokerage to analyze and market the property. 

“We have been able to release the potential of this wonderful marquee property,” Bohar told commissioners, describing development as “a powerful new opportunity you must support.” 

“We met with the technology transfer people at Haas [School of Business] two weeks ago, and we heard that there were 20 companies in play. We heard that they would take off for Silicon Valley or Alameda because of the difficulty of the entitlement process here,” Bohar told the planning commission. 

“Incubators are risky and costly,” he said, and best “thrive as part of a large, dense business park.” 

UC Berkeley had planned to create a business park at its Richmond Field Station, but plans were shelved in part because of delays caused by the forced implementation of a new cleanup regime to remove hazardous waste from the site. 

The site has been home to American Soil & Stone Products Inc., which still stores materials at the site though its main operations have moved to Richmond and San Rafael. 

Bohar said the property has been owned by members of the Jones family since 1978, and his firm has been retained to develop a proposal for putting the property on the market. 

Despite the market collapse and chaos in the financial sector, “now’s a good time for a very large project, because it will take a long time to study the options and then put it on the market.” 

Once a proposal is assembled, more time will be needed while the developer goes through the entitlement process, winning all the governmental permissions needed before the first shovel of earth can be turned. 

“We are a marketing company, and we are now doing the research to determine what will be the optimal development,” he said, looking at needs, market conditions and what the city itself would like to get out of the site. 

“We want to know what the real opportunities are,” Bohar told planning commissioners. “What are the transportation issues? What kind of companies would be interested?” 

He said he was looking to have “a much more informed marketing package in February.” 

Berkeley’s newest planning commissioner, Dorothy Walker, is an un-abashed fan of the word “flexibility,” which had raised such concerns among West Berkeley’s artists and artisans that “West Berkeley Project” replaced “West Berkeley Flexibility” as the title of their work on a proposed zoning update. 

Walker, a former university development executive and a member of the strongly pro-development minority of the Downtown Area Plan Advisory Committee, recently told her colleagues that it was time for a new West Berkeley Plan, something not even city staff has been willing to propose. 

Introduction of the Jones property into the mix, a site already marked out by the city staff as a key West Berkeley development property, dovetails with the City Council-directed effort to loosen zoning restrictions in the city’s only sector zoning for light industry and manufacturing. 

Rick Auerbach, who works for WEBAIC, the West Berkeley Alliance of Artists and Industrial Companies, has been leading the effort to retain the existing plan’s protections for artists and for the industries which he said are a major source of living wage for the city. 

West Berkeley is the local focus of the East Bay Green Corridor initiative by mayors to attract so-called green businesses, including companies capitalizing on technology developed at the university and its affiliated national labs. 

“I went to a Green Corridor meeting up at the university recently, and at the end of the day, there weren’t that many companies, and they were very small,” Auerbach said. 

WEBAIC hasn’t looked at the Jones family property in detail, he said, other than to note that there are other businesses than American Soil which occupy parts of the property. 

And then there’s the unspoken question: Just how much development is likely, even with the most flexible of standards, given the current state of the economy? 


Commission Votes to End Downtown’s Fast Food Moratorium

By Richard Brenneman
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 06:46:00 PM

The man who residents of downtown Berkeley elected to represent their district on the City Council came to the Planning Commission last week to make a request. 

The commissioners turned him down at the Dec. 10 meeting on a 5-3 vote, then voted 6-2 to end the ban on new fast food outlets in the city center. 

Jesse Arreguin, who was elected to the City Council in November after the death of popular District 4 Councilmember Dona Spring, the original author of the moratorium ordinance, urged commissioners to hold off on a vote on ending the ban until he had a chance to meet with stakeholders in his district. 

“This is not a time-sensitive issue,” he said. 

Arreguin said he believed ending the moratorium was a good idea, but he said he wanted more time to consider the underlying issues which had led to imposition of the moratorium a decade ago. 

Neither the Downtown Berkeley Association, which has pushed for lifting the ban, nor city Economic Development Director Michael Caplan objected to the delay, he said. 

Arreguin said problems with definitions in the zoning code could bar some potentially desirable businesses while allowing others that weren’t. Commissioner James Novosel said, “If we lifted the moratorium, you could still work out those issues. Why not lift it now and you can come back” to the commission with proposed changes? 

If the commission did decide to lift the moratorium, Arreguin said, he wanted the issue put on the calendar for a future meeting to address the questions, but “why not delay action a few weeks so we can actually talk to the interested parties?” 

“I’d like to point out that only one other person showed up to talk about it,” responded chair James Samuels. 

When Gene Poschman, Spring’s appointee to the commission, suggested continuing the hearing to allow Arreguin time to conduct his meetings, commissioner Harry Pollack immediately moved to close the hearing, getting a second from Dorothy Walker. 

“The middle of December is a lousy time to have a hearing and expect merchants to come,” he said. Poschman too said he had talked to Caplan, who had agreed that the existing definitions needed clarification. 

But chair James Samuels said he would vote to lift the moratorium, declaring that if the commission wants to ban any uses, the ban should apply citywide. 

Dorothy Walker, the commission’s newest member, said the commission had already spent too much time on “a small issue” and that Arreguin should come back to the commission when he had specific proposals. 

During the public hearing that preceded the commission’s vote, Downtown Berkeley Association Executive Director Deborah Badhia and developer/broker John Gordon asked the commission to end the moratorium, while only Merilee Mitchell spoke in favor of Arreguin’s request. 

While Poschman and colleague Patti Dacey urged the commission to continue the hearing to allow Arreguin the time he sought, only Roia Ferrazares joined them on the vote, which failed 5-3. Ferrazares then joined with the 6-2 majority on the vote to end the moratorium. 


UC Santa Cruz’s Redwood Grove Felled

By Richard Brenneman
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 06:48:00 PM

The last UC Santa Cruz tree sitter surrendered to campus police Saturday, moments before a chainsaw-wielding crew began to level the redwood grove they had occupied for 402 days. 

“We knew they were getting ready for an extraction, so we had been preparing,” said Jennifer Charles, who had been the designated media contact for the protest. 

In the end, when “about 90 police in riot gear” and the commercial tree-cutters appeared Saturday morning, only one tree sitter was left in the branches, Charles said. He came down of his own volition, to be promptly booked on charges of trespassing, disturbing the peace and violation of a court order, she said. 

The tree-cutting crew cleared the last platforms occupied by the tree sitters and then set to work felling 48 century-old redwoods and 11 oaks on the site designated for construction of a new biomedical facility. 

The tree-clearing crews didn’t need to resort to the scaffolding used to clear the last redwood at UC Berkeley’s Memorial Stadium, where a longer arboreal occupation ended Sept. 9 after police were able to mount a structure that reached to within a dozen feet of the top of that grove’s tallest redwood. 

Charles said the protest, mounted in opposition to plans in the Santa Cruz campus Long Range Development, didn’t end with the treesit on Science Hill and the arrest of Scott Poshian the moment his feet touched earth Saturday. 

“We’re all going to continue fighting together to prevent the expansion in our own different ways,” she said. 

The university’s plans will be going to the Local Agency Formation Commission in the spring. 

The university’s announcement Saturday was terse, beginning, “Construction preparation activities began earlier this morning on the Science Hill site that will be home to the new Biomedical Sciences building.”


Window-Smashing Burglar Sought by Berkeley Police

Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 06:48:00 PM

Berkeley police said that they have a person of interest and a vehicle of interest in connection with seven daytime “window-smash” burglaries, and one attempted burglary, at homes in northwest and north central Berkeley in the last two weeks. 

Police spokesman Andrew Frankel said the person of interest is a white female about 30 to 36 years old who is about 5 feet 6 inches tall with long straight black or dark brown hair. 

A community member who saw the woman said she was wearing a trench coat and had a “weathered” appearance, according to Frankel. 

He said the vehicle of interest is a gray, GMC-style van with a bicycle rack on the back. 

Frankel said police don’t know at this point if the woman is actually responsible for any of the burglaries or if she had any accomplices. 

However, detectives are attributing the burglaries to the same suspect or suspects, he said. 

The burglaries have occurred between 8 a.m. and 3 p.m., apparently because the suspects think there’s a good chance the occupants will be gone, Frankel said. 

The suspects generally have taken items that are easy to hide and easy to carry, such as laptop computers and iPods, according to Frankel. 

He said Berkeley police are reminding people to take crime prevention measures such as being alert and aware of activity around their homes and neighborhoods, locking all their windows and doors and not allowing anyone in their home that they do not know or have not hired or screened. 

Frankel said people should report any suspicious people or activities, especially anything that matches the person and vehicle of interest. 

In addition, Frankel said people should get to know their elderly neighbors and pay attention to any unusual activity in or around their homes. 

He said people should call the Berkeley Police Department’s non-emergency line at 981-5900 if they notice any suspicious individuals or activity. Frankel said that to report crimes in progress, people should call 911 from a landline or (510) 981-5911 from their cell phone. 

 

—Richard Brenneman


Opinion

Editorials

Watching the Watchdogs: It’s Everyone’s Job

By Becky O’Malley
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 06:54:00 PM

Those of us who voted for President-elect Barack Obama (possibly 95 percent of the readers of this paper) are waiting for his arrival with the same eagerness that our children and grandchildren are waiting for Santa Claus. But like the children of the 19th and early 20th centuries, the anticipation we feel is tempered by a bit of anxiety: Perhaps instead of sugarplums we might get Ashes and Switches or lumps of coal in our stockings. 

The left-leaning chattering class, in print and in conversation, seems not to be thrilled with most of Obama’s announcements about what he calls his “team.” The economic team in particular seems to have an overrepresentation of the Clinton-era architects of the policies that are currently causing the financial system to crash and burn in a spectacular way. Environmentalists don’t particularly like Obama’s choice for Interior, a fellow who seems to have made some bad decisions along with a few good ones.  

The overwhelming pride that many felt when America finally elected a president of African ancestry, someone who could speak in complete sentences and who has even written a very fine book, has been tempered by the realization that it’s possible to be intelligent, articulate, even charismatic, and still be wrong from time to time. Monday’s announcement of the choice of Barack’s Chicago basketball buddy Arne Duncan as Secretary of Education was greeted with groans from some of the most visible and active critics of the disastrous No Child Left Behind program.  

Here’s Greg Palast, for example, the frequently bombastic though seldom fact-checked columnist-at-large:  

“Hey, you Liberal Democrats. You may have won the election, but you’re getting CREAMED in the transition. 

Today, President-elect Barack Obama stuck it to you. He’s chosen Arne Duncan as Secretary of Education. 

Who? Duncan is most decidedly NOT an educator. He’s a lawyer. But Duncan has this extraordinary qualification: He’s Obama’s pick-up basketball buddy from Hyde Park. 

I can’t make this up.” 

Like many of us, Palast claims to be an education expert because he’s got a couple of little kids. But those of us who have seen lots and lots of public school systems, even some in places less demographically challenged than Chicago, know that there’s more to good education management than being an educator by profession, and certainly more than just being a teachers’ union activist. (The worst teacher any of my three children ever had was a union officer, an activity which interested her more than her classroom charges.) 

I’m in perfect agreement with Palast that the Bush administration implementation of the No Child Left Behind law has been a disaster. But that’s no reason to throw the baby out with the bathwater. Just because this particular attempt to hold schools and teachers accountable for the children’s failures hasn’t worked, the goal shouldn’t be abandoned. Congressman George Miller, who perhaps now regrets his co-sponsorship of the original NCLB bill, is ready to try again to get it right. 

A more reasoned critique of the kind of management style touted by people like Arne Duncan (whose title is “CEO,” not superintendent, of the Chicago schools) is offered by Arnie Kohn in the current issue of The Nation. He offers an excellent checklist of school “reform” methods which he accuses Duncan and others of promoting which are more retrogressive than progressive. Several of his targets are unarguably bad: fill-in-the-bubble testing, top-down curriculum management, “disproportionate emphasis on rote learning.”  

But then Kohn throws in a blanket condemnation of charter schools with no rationale for why they’re all bad, and his argument falters. If you don’t like top-down curriculum management, how can you be categorically opposed to charter schools? There are good charter schools and bad charter schools, just as centralized school administration produces both good and bad schools (but mainly bad). 

Reading all this polemical prose prompted me to engage in some cheap-and-dirty fact-checking: a long-distance call to a trusted old friend and fellow grandmother in Chicago to find out what Arne Duncan looks like at ground zero. Her three accomplished adult children went all through the Chicago public schools. Two of them (and/or their spouses) now teach in the system. One is a special education teacher who has a child of her own with learning disabilities.  

Several of the grandkids are now in the Chicago system. A couple of them attended an excellent bilingual charter school, but it was disbanded because of anti-charter agitation. My friend is certainly not anti-union herself, since she’s retired from a glorious career as an in-the-trenches union organizer. 

Her verdict? Duncan’s fine. She points out that the main problem with Chicago schools in her experience (now going back 40 years or more) has been chaotic management: not necessarily the wrong policies, but just no policies and no (here’s that word again) accountability. Her view is that if anyone can get a grip on the situation, the kids benefit.  

What we might be tempted to forget is that we elected Obama to be a lever, not a hammer. He’s not, nor does he claim to be, an expert on education. What we can and should do is prepare to hold him accountable, just as his management choice for Secretary of Education claims to want to do with schools, for the success or failure of his administration’s program. That’s our job, and it’s a big important one. 

Here in Berkeley, right now, there’s an excellent debate in progress about major changes which are being proposed for Berkeley High. Various theories and points of view have been well articulated, and experts of every stripe have claimed authority. The solutions-du-jour seem to be block scheduling, which my informants tell me is widely hated in Santa Cruz, but which local proponents say has been successful elsewhere, plus small schools within the large high school, which look a lot like the better kind of charter schools.  

Some local opponents have charged that changes are being rushed through in secret. Concerned citizens (especially parents) need to inform themselves of the facts, and also of the reviews that similar programs have gotten elsewhere, and then participate intelligently in the discussion. The Berkeley Unified School District board members need to do their part by scheduling informational and decision-making meetings so that both current and future high school students and their parents can take part before the decision is final.  

The worst way to make crucial decisions like this one is to leave everything up to self-styled professionals, particularly to consultants from outside the local system who offer one-size-fits-all solutions to all their clients. Students and parents have different perspectives from those of consultants, administrators and teachers—all are valuable. The best argument for open and transparent democratic decision-making is that it prevents mistakes which are easy to make if criticism is shut out of the process.  

That’s something Arne Duncan will need to keep in mind in his new job as well. We Liberal Democrats need to help him do it in case he forgets. 

 


Cartoons

Lighting Up The Neighborhood

By Justin DeFreitas
Wednesday December 24, 2008 - 09:46:00 AM


Insects in the Grill

By Justin DeFreitas
Wednesday December 24, 2008 - 09:45:00 AM


This Space for Sale

By Justin DeFreitas
Thursday December 18, 2008 - 10:04:00 AM


Recessionary Snowman

By Justin DeFreitas
Thursday December 18, 2008 - 11:11:00 AM


Browsing the Addison Street Gallery

By Justin DeFreitas
Thursday December 18, 2008 - 11:15:00 AM


Public Comment

Letters to the Editor

Monday January 05, 2009 - 07:20:00 PM

Editors, Daily Planet: 

CENSORED ARTWORK 

Censorship is a controversial issue, as evidenced by the amount of discussion in regard to the censoring of visual art from the Addison Street Windows Gallery. However, unless we are able to view the work, our judgment about this gallery's decision lacks perspective. To facilitate an educated debate on this topic, The Red Door Gallery (reddoorgalleryandcollective.blogspot.com) is showing two of the aforementioned censored works in its exhibition, "Art and the Body Politick." Hopefully, this lends perspective to the discussion and encourages healthy discourse on a topic so critical to our community's history. 

Lauren Odell Usher 

 

• 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

PEOPLE'S PARK TREE-SIT 

I tolerated the Memorial Stadium tree-sit with reasonably good humor. Despite being an environmentalist myself, I never fully empathized with the cause. It seemed too small an area of landscaping to dedicate such resources toward protecting when there are much larger ecological causes in our own backyard that warrant much more attention (e.g., the bay and delta). But I allowed that some people may have a strong connection to their own sacred places and perhaps this grove was a sacred place for the people sitting in the trees. I was disappointed to find out that many of the final tree-sitters were not local and had little to no connection to Strawberry Canyon or even the Bay Area prior to ascending. It hinted that their motivation was one of self-aggrandizement rather than a committed passion for a piece of land. Still, to each his or her own. 

This latest tree-sit in People’s Park goes beyond the absurd and borders on the offensive. I don’t intend to question the motives of the tree-sitter, but as someone who has dedicated his life to healing ecosystems, I find distractions to petty causes such as the preservation of three acacia trees in People’s Park counter-productive.  

I know the trees in question. I travel past the one that was removed every day on my way to work. Acacia trees are invasive and horribly damaging to native Californian ecosystems. People’s Park is a small urban park. It has great cultural value but its ecological value is minor. The ecological value of three invasive acacia trees in a small urban park is negligible, if not negative. I would urge the tree-sitter and his compatriots to focus their energy, attention, and local celebrity on more productive and urgent environmental issues.  

Rich Walkling 

 

• 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

AUSTRALIA 

Estelle Jelinek’s Dec. 23 review of my book, Multiethnic Australia: Its History and Future brought out some changes in the status of indigenous peoples there: citizenship and the vote. The recent movie, Australia, set on a cattle station (ranch) in the Northern Territory from 1939 to 1942, can serve as a prelude to other major changes in later decades: 

When a cattle industry developed in the Territory and adjacent Western Australia (it’s too hot there for sheep), station owners used indigenous people as stockmen and their wives as domestic servants; they lived in camps on the stations, working for room and board. By 1940 stockmen received wages, but they were about a fifth of what white workers got. During World War II many indigenous people worked for the military in Darwin or served in the army; seeing how other people lived and were treated made them chafe under the old system. In 1946 stockmen from 25 stations in Western Australia went on strike, demanding higher wages and better living conditions. They didn’t get either. 

In the mid-1960s the Northern Territory legislature passed an equal pay for equal work law; station owners appealed and got a three year delay to help them make the transition. After that, many downsized their operations and evicted their indigenous workforces. As one worker recalled, station managers said: “We can’t afford to pay you the basic wage, and we can’t afford to keep feeding you. The Welfare mob have a lot of money for you to live on in the town. So pack up your camp and start walking.” At Wave Hill, a large station in the Northern Territory owned by an English lord, where Gurindji people still worked for low wages, they went on strike in 1966, but again to no avail. 

Their plight had an unforeseen side effect, leading to a movement for the return of their traditional lands so indigenous people could run their own cattle stations. In the 1970s, under a program initiated by the Labor government of Prime Minister Gough Whitlam, the Gurindji and some other indigenous peoples were granted land. And in 1992, in the landmark land reform case called Mabo (brought by indigenous people including Eddie Mabo, in Queensland), the High Court ruled that indigenous peoples had a right to the use of their ancestral lands. The effects of that ruling are being played out to this day. 

Celeste Lipow MacLeod 

 

• 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

DON'T EXPECT A MIRACLE 

After reading the recent article in the San Francisco Chronicle, "Dellums faces growing criticism," I agree with San Francisco State University political science professor Robert Smith's assessment that Mr. Dellums' next two years will be like his last two. "It's his personality and character." 

Why should Oakland residents continue to pay the mayor his full salary, with limo and driver, travel expenses and other perks when he essentially only works part time? If we don't remove him from office now and cut our losses, Mr. Dellums will continue to disappoint us and leave us with a bigger mess, if that's possible. More crime victims will suffer needlessly. 

Impeach the mayor now. Don't sit and wait and expect a sudden miraculous major turnaround in terms of the mayor's personality and character. Let someone more motivated and competent take over. Someone who is willing to work full time to combat the escalating crime we face these next two years. We need to take tough measures in order to make Oakland a safe city again. 

Tori Thompson 

Oakland 

 

• 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

INEXCUSABLE 

I would like to point out to Ms. Loubel two errors in her Dec. 23 piece. First the commission did not accept a misleading environmental impact report (EIR). They did however accept a mitigated negative declaration (MND) which can be accepted in lieu of an EIR. It is the first step so to speak. If the commission denies the MND, an EIR must be prepared which is a more complete declaration of impacts and requires a higher level of mitigation for those impacts. 

Second, the statement, “How many endangered species does the [built-up] site have?” and comment upon it by Ms. Loubel, while funny, misses the point that the site is unlikely to have endangered species on the site since it is built up. Nevertheless, significant impacts from traffic, streetlights, runoff etc would significantly affect any species, endangered or otherwise from associated indirect impacts. Missing this point means the article did not disclose to the public that the commissioner's comment was ignorant. Considering she is a member of the Planning Commission and should therefore understand the importance of indirect impacts, her comment shows how ignorant she is of basic planning concepts—inexcusable. 

Peter Weschler 

 

• 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

HAVE YOU BEEN TO THE THEATER LATELY? 

If you read the arts pages of national newspapers and magazines, you might have noted that most U.S. theaters display anglophilia in their "theatre" names and listings. After wracking my brain for a way to do something about this incredibly trivial annoyance, I think I have a solution that will also give a boost to the economy.  

We could make it illegal to use the English English rather than the American English spelling of "theater." Business would boom for graphic designers, printers of books, posters, letterheads, and programs. Architects, neon crafters, sign installers would be busier from coast to coast. And the penalties for infractions could be steep. 

I can't think of another area that suffers from this echo of colonial power. How often do you go to your favourite automotive centre to change your tyres or go to the banque to cash a cheque? 

Enough said. 

Bonnie Hughes 

 

• 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

THE HOMELESS 

Stevanne Auerbach ("One Neat City! Change Starts with Clean Community," Commentary, Dec. 10) has a stack of things she doesn't like about Berkeley's landscape; old food wrappers, trash, graffiti—and homeless people. Thank you for allowing her to so clearly express her interest in having the "streetlivers," as she puts it, "cleaned up" like so much trash. 

My idea of "one neat city" would be a place where such obvious bigotry is just as obviously and publicly singled out for objection. If any readers out there know Ms. Auerbach, let her know that in a month where 533,000 jobs were lost and one out of 10 homeowners is in foreclosure, her suggestion that homelessness be treated like so much graffiti is not kind, useful, or welcome. 

Carol Denney 

 

• 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

CEOs NO BETTER THAN WORKING CLASS 

Hard-working Americans should have to right to organize their coworkers around issues like health care and workplace safety. But that's not the case today. 

American workers trying to form or join a union today have the odds stacked against them. Major corporations routinely coerce, intimidate, or even fire employees who try to unionize. They can essentially veto their workers' choice to form a union. 

We need a system that puts the power to organize back in the hands of American workers, and the Employee Free Choice Act (EFCA) does just that. It prevents corporate bullying and allows hard working men and women to form a union so long as a simply majority supports it. It's democracy in the workplace, and it's commonsense fairness. 

Big business and their super-rich CEOs are already flooding radio and television with attack ads, but we shouldn't back down now. Big CEOs pay themselves seven-digit salaries with eight-digit bonuses while giving nothing back to the people who work their entire lives. It's time for a change. 

Barack Obama and Democrats in Congress were given a mandate last month, they should use to pass the Employee Free Choice Act into law. 

Kenneth Martin 

Oakland 

 

• 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

MAYOR DELLUMS 

J. Douglas Allen-Taylor asks a very good and well phrased question in his recent article: 

"But has the [Mayor Dellums] carried out his core responsibility of running the city? If you’re looking for the definitive answer to that question, you’re going to be disappointed. The answer depends upon the criteria put forth by the person posing the question, and those criteria have a wide variance. " 

There is one criterion I'd like to ask about, and that is the criterion described in the city charter. What exactly are the Oakland mayor's areas of responsibility? Does he appoint? Oversee? Propose? Veto? And what departments? Does he have any role in the Redevelopment Agency or the Port? What is the relationship between the mayor's powers and the school system? Can he fire administration officials? Can he fire the chief of police for example? The city administrator? Or does he ask for the resignation? Can he declare a state of emergency? Call an election? How is the "Strong Mayor" strong? Did Harris have that much less power when he had Manager Bob? What are the checks and balances with the council? What powers are held by council and the mayor cannot do anything about them? Who, if anyone, is responsible for the quality of Oakland agencies?  

I am not asking these questions because I know the answers. I have lived in Oakland for most of the last 20 years and I do not begin to know or even know where I could find out. Is it spelled out clearly in the charter or does it take a team of lawyers to understand? Do state laws dictate some of the terms? I think it might be good to take a step back and have a background report on what the powers of that office really are and then match that to the actions taken by Dellums, Brown, and Harris to give us an idea of when they are using their charter authority and when they are exercising their leadership role outside of the strict legal description of the job.  

Don Macleay 

Oakland 

 

• 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

SILVER-PLATED SHOES 

Do you remember in the good old days when folks used to hang tiny silver-plated kiddy booties over their car's rearview mirrors? Well, here's a chance for that old fashioned custom to come to life again; only this time with a little less cutesiness and more meaningful political significance. Tiny silver-plated replicas of the two shoes thrown at Bush should be made available immediately! I would be the first to buy them! Liberal venture capitalists, here's an opportunity.  

Robert Blau 

 

• 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

EQUALITY FOR ALL 

After reading Zionist Freedom Alliance Director Yehuda Hakohen's commentary, "Address the Real Problems at Berkeley," I was wondering what Mr. Hakohen meant by stating that "the ZFA's overall message is one of Jewish rights." Does he mean the right to conquer and occupy neighboring territories? 

The right to impose curfews on the non-Jewish residents of those territories? 

To erect separation barriers deep inside their borders that choke off any possibility for normal subsistence? To starve a massive population by closing border crossings, disabling their ability to obtain life-sustaining food, fuel and medicine? I could go on, but I think my point has been made. 

I fail to see why the ZFA needs to "unapologetically assert that the Jewish people...enjoy national rights," while denying those same rights for their Palestinian neighbors. Maybe what is needed, Mr. Hakohen, is something broader, say, a desire for human rights, and equality for all. 

Robert Kanter 

Emeryville 

 

• 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

A RHETORICAL QUESTION 

I've always considered former Secretary of State Donald Rumsfeld to be an absolute master of perplexing, convoluted and unintelligible rhetoric. I'm having second thoughts. Oakland Mayor Ron Dellums, in explaining the bungled investigation of the Chauncey Bailey murder case, stated "Look at the whole thing. All of it is tied in. The whole thing means the whole thing." 

Move over, Donald—you have competition. 

Dorothy Snodgrass 

 

• 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

BERKELEY AIR QUALITY 

Recently, USA Today published an article, shocking to many of us, asserting that the air quality around Berkeley's schools was among the worst in the nation. The article linked the bad air to the Pacific Steel Casting (PSC) plants at Gilman and Second Streets. The city and the school district joined many who were greatly concerned. We made a formal request to the Bay Area Air Quality Management District to explain the USA Today reports. Below is the Air District's strongly worded response, which Mayor Bates has also sent to Berkeley Schools Superintendent Bill Huyett.  

The city will not relieve Pacific Steel Casting of its responsibility to improve its processes and limit its emissions. We will continue to press for improvements based on facts. The USA Today report does not appear to fall into the "factually useful" category.  

Linda Maio 

 


• 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

USA TODAY ARTICLE: BAD DATA
 The USA Today series that looked at toxic air near schools and communities was misleading and false. The EPA data used to research the story is not scientifically valid or verified for the purposes of making risk based assessments.
 The EPA's Toxics Release Inventory data is not used for quantifiable inventory purposes by any local, state or federal agency to determine air emissions limits. The data are notoriously inaccurate, and there is no quality assurance/quality control required before it is submitted.
 The most damning point against the EPA's TRI data is the fact that the agency does not recognize diesel particulate matter as a toxic pollutant, even though the agency two years ago significantly tightened the fine particulate matter air quality standard—cutting it nearly in half. Diesel particulate matter is the primary source of risk in most industrial or high traffic areas. The study itself states that "large industrial sites account for only a fraction of the nation's toxic air pollution. The EPA estimates that in 2002, cars, smaller businesses and other sources accounted for 85 percent of the toxic chemicals in the nation's air."
 The Political Economy Research Institute sites six reasons why the TRI data should not be used for risk screening purposes, citing incorrect, inaccurate and inadequate information as the first three sources of error.
 It is irresponsible for a national newspaper, like USA Today, to develop a "study" based on unscientific and invalidated data. Readers throughout the United States deserve better standards of reporting than this.
Jack Broadbent
Executive Officer
Bay Area Air Quality Management District

 

 

• 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

CLOSING THE ACHIEVEMENT GAP 

Thank you Kristin McFarland for your Dec. 18 article in the Daily Planet, highlighting Malcolm X School's successful efforts in academic growth with socioeconomically disadvantaged students. Educators know the significance of The Title One Academic Achievement Award along with the Distinguished School Award as the most honored awards a California public school can earn. Malcolm X School has achieved both! 

Take the opportunity and visit Malcolm X School in South Berkeley during the instructional day and note how clean and quiet the halls are while learning in the classrooms is taking place. The time, effort, planning and professional skills involved in achieving success are daunting! Students, parents and staff working together show what is possible! This is happening in a state that ranks at the bottom in money spent on education! 

Congratulations to Principal Cheryl Chinn and her staff of dedicated and hard working professionals! By the way, in addition to academics, Malcolm X School has an outstanding performing arts program! The school motto is "Together We Can." 

James Harris    

Past parent and teacher, Malcolm X School 

 

• 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

INSPIRED BY ILLINOIS GOVERNOR BLAGOJEVICH 

Though we simplify good versus bad, 

No conscience means utterly mad. 

To some, copacetic  

Is sociopathetic. 

There isn't much more I could add. 

 

Ove Ofteness 

 

• 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

BIRDS 

Maybe Joe Eaton’s feeders are too close to an open window. Too prevent birds from coming inside the house, one should be mindful not to provide an environment where they can get lost. Be mindful that a captured bird is extremely frightened long before the gigantic hand captures it. Considering it has only a mere seven or eight years to live, this could be a very stressful event if you count those moments in a bird’s time. Maybe this is the same wren that visits our place as does Joe’s. We placed our specialty feeders (including the nectar) up high and away from the house for the wren and his other buddies. It is nowhere near a building, or cats, dogs, or even those annoying squirrels. If we intentionally maintain a garden area for the birds then it is also a Sanctuary for Wildlife. We should make those surroundings safer for the birds as suggested by nature organizations like the National Wild Life Federation. If we can’t do these little things for the protection of the birds then who will? At least, we should put a small screen around the opening or close the enticing window.  

Dea Robertson-Gutierrez 

 

• 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

CHRISTMAS SPIRIT 

With an economic downturn propelling it, I'm more aware this year for the need to focus on the simplicity of the original message on which Christmas is based: the birth of a baby whose adult life was to become all about love, healing the sick, and justice for the downtrodden. Jesus sought out society's rejects—tax collectors and others considered sinners. All were included in his ministry. Can I do less than try to bring my thought, word, and action in line with the command to "love one another," and to do so through simple acts of kindness and grace? For me, this includes a daily period of quiet contemplation of the God whom Jesus called father and shepherd and whose goodness he trusted unquestioningly. It may be hard to believe that good can triumph when evil seems to be so active in the world, but there is evidence all around of people of good will applying their expertise to the problems around them. My prayers seek to encompass and lift up all—people, animals, the environment—suffering hurt and degradation, that they may know hope and peace. May the spirit of gratitude and joy, "the wonders of his love," extend the reach of blessings, as 19th century author and healer Mary Baker Eddy wrote, "…over continent and ocean, to the earth's remotest bound." 

Marilyn McPherson 

 

• 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

A WAY TO HELP 

With the daily news of declining sales and increasing layoffs I want to ease the suffering. When I hear of restaurants, retailers and auto-makers facing possible closure and millions of people losing their homes because they can’t earn enough to make their payments, I want to help. I want to go out and lunch at restaurants, not the simple salads my wife packs into my cooler. I want to buy clothes at malls instead of thrift stores and outlets. And I want to buy a brand new truck, especially from poor Chrysler. I wonder—would they reward my benevolence with a good deal on one of those 25mpg Dodge Sprinters that Mercedes builds?  

The problem is, I don’t have much money in my pocket, and my plastic is all in debits. The only way I can see to be of any real help in this time of great national need is to spend the money I normally give to the IRS. As far as I can tell, once they get it, they simply give it to their crying friends. Wouldn’t it be more efficient for me to distribute this money to my crying friends? With the extra money in my pocket and not yet debited accounts I would, for my country man and woman, go out and spend like I’ve never spent before. I’m sure I could do this, so long as I felt the money wasn’t really mine. 

This simple plan would surely work. Local cafes, thrift stores and mechanics would smile again. For me to be even more helpful, to lift the bottom line of larger companies, I’d need the pro-active assistance of the federal government. If the president, Congress or treasurer would give me a loan against the taxes they could no longer afford to let me pay, I would promise to spend every penny, and spend it locally, since it’s a global economy and I can get that German truck at my nearby American dealer. 

Hard times can only be softened if we help each other. I’m willing to do my part. And I bet you are, too.  

Eric Rasmussen 

Castro Valley 

 

• 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

ALTERNATIVE ENERGY MOVEMENT BEHIND DROP IN FUEL PRICES 

In slick advertisements paid for by oil companies, we are led to believe that the big oil producers are on the forefront of researching and obtaining alternate fuels. In fact, the opposite is true: The oil companies would like it if alternatives to gasoline would disappear and never come back. 

I see a two-year cycle in the fluctuation of gas prices, a cycle intended to disrupt the implementation of alternatives to gasoline. When alternates to gasoline are widespread, this will end the monopoly of the oil companies on transportation fuel, and it will end this horrible choke hold they have on Americans. 

Gas prices soar at the high point of the cycle. At that point many people join the alternative fuels movement because of the fact that gas prices are becoming unbearable. 

A few months later, at the point where the alternate fuels movement is gaining momentum, and we are getting ready to implement many of the plans, gas prices inexplicably drop, way down. And they stay down for about the next year; enough time for people to forget about alternate fuels. After all, who needs biofuels when gas is cheap? 

Then, when alternate fuels have been forgotten, and when we’re not looking, gas prices begin to creep upward. The oil companies at this point are reaping huge profits. 

Gas prices go upward some more, until someone says we ought to do something about this. And we have arrived again at the top of the two-year cycle. 

If we employ our human memory, and remember that at some point, the oil companies will stick it to us again if we let them, we can end the monopoly of the oil companies forever, and we will no longer have the wild fluctuations in gas prices. 

We ought to continue the pursuit of alternative energy, including times when gas prices are low. 

Jack Bragen 

Martinez 

 

• 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

GREEN TALK 

There's too much "green talk." Many businesses are jumping on the ecology bandwagon. Bank of America has a Mastercard that rewards customers with carbon tradeoffs. McDonald's has tried to greenwash its hamburgers by touting the use of recycled paper. General Motors has become more environmentally friendly by stopping production of their 10-miles-per-gallon H1 Hummer. Unfortunately, even well-intentioned efforts may have little impact on global warming because increased population inevitably results in more pollution. For example, buying a hybrid automobile simply means that it is less environmentally unfriendly. Any effort to stop global warming—other than population reduction—is just a speed bump on the way to the apocalypse. 

Robert Gable 

 

• 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

CARING WITH LOVE AND DESIRE TO CURE 

I am wondering if in the medical field doctors will do the research to bring changes in the existing system of providing treatment to their patients for better health and longevity. Mostly the patients are only told about the physical problem or the trouble but they don't encourage the patients to take preventive steps. I know that in major drastic health reasons, the medical intervention may be important but it should be done after real discussion with the field of all experts naturopathy, homeopathy and allopathy. The human life must be treated with respect, and care so the poor patients do feel comfortable. We need to think in the ancient way of healing where the supreme power and natural healing also takes place even in the hospitalized patients. 

Romila Khanna 

 

• 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

KEEP THE FAITH 

In this time of such heartbreaking terror in the name of God, let us all take a moment and be open to the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit of justice, and mercy and love; this is where of I speak. In our own small world here in the Bay Area, let us not give into the naming rights and ownership of peace and justice. All of us, all good people: Christian, Jew, Muslim, Hindi,Pagan, Agnostic and Atheist; we have to stand together in the widening division brought on by the most radical of the political-religious zealots. The Spirit of peace and love is indeed Holy by its nature. When we encounter one another, let us be united in grace and tenderness, and not attack our sisters and brothers for their own spiritual beliefs (or lack there of). Let us not bring the battle to our fellow citizens, but to those who may make a difference. And in our unique ways, let us offer a prayer, a song, a work of art, or a pice of theatre to peace. 

Mike Vaughn 

 


Letters to the Editor

Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 06:54:00 PM

NEW SECRETARY OF ENERGY 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

Richard Brenneman’s recent story on the reported selection of Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory Director Steven Chu as the nation’s new secretary of energy was remarkably one-sided. Instead of describing how Dr. Chu has forcefully made the case for the urgent need to tackle climate change, and his promotion of a broad range of research on technologies that could provide alternatives to fossil fuels, Brenneman quoted a critic of the biofuels research effort that is one of the approaches that may be part of a strategy to reduce use of fossil fuels. Apparently he feels that good reporting doesn’t require presenting views other than the one that he himself agrees with (as has been evident in his reporting). 

The nation is fortunate to have someone with Dr. Chu’s vision and drive as secretary of energy, and the people of Berkeley deserve a better profile of him than what we read in the Daily Planet. 

Steve Meyers 

 

• 

OBAMA, CHU BLAZE GRASS-OIL TOGETHER 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

Progressives have a new foe: Barack Obama. After the environmentalist group Save Strawberry Canyon declares victory over the scale of LBNL’s Helios building, Obama rewarded LBNL director Steven Chu, naming him secretary of energy.  

Sadly UC-BP’s Helios may continue, just smaller. The largest corporate-university deal in history, UC Berkeley and BP want to mar and pollute Strawberry Canyon with a monstrous temple dedicated to unintelligent business and scientific decisions. The Helios building begins with intentional deception; it has nothing to do with the sun and solar energy. A main thrust is actually to do research that would increase oil production. Helios will also try to dupe the masses by reviving the “clean coal” myth. It also focuses on genetically engineered switch grass, as opposed to a wide variety of natural (undesigned) or recycled biomasses. Though the U.S. will use the majority of this biofuel, it will be grown in developing countries after we cut down more of their forests. BP has its hands in Iraq; what would stop switch grass related conflicts? 

What of Berkeley’s trees? The original plans for Helios didn’t meet environmental standards, but Steven Chu, Robert Birgeneau, and the UC Board of Regents (aka the Legion of Doom) tried to move forward anyway. The only things that stopped UC from breaking the law, and stopped Chu from being director of an illegally and immorally constructed lab, were a rag tag team of canyon defenders and their lawsuit.  

If Obama had been president during the past couple of years, and Helios being integral to his energy policy, would things have been different? How would Obama have handled protesters (the BP Bears, Stop UC-BP and others) who rallied on campus against BP and its Helios? 

Oh, you remember the talk of the Bevatron pulverization? That’s right, Obama gave the secretary of energy position to someone who wants to haul debris including Cobalt 60, Cesium 137, and Europium 154, asbestos, lead, mercury, PCBs, and chlorinated VOCs through the city, past residences, in uncovered trucks.  

No, we can’t succeed through shifty corporate deals, giving bad projects cute names, relying on production overseas, ignoring human rights, and by refusing to severely use less energy per American. The next administration must understand that if we are going to overhaul our energy plan, we must overhaul our values, communities, and relationship to nature.  

Nathan Pitts 

 

• 

BERKELEY HIGH REDESIGN 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

In critical care units the term “triage” is often used. A triage system is implemented in a critical care unit when there are more patient admissions than available beds. Patients determined to be safe enough to transfer to lower levels of care are transferred so as to be able to give priority to those who need more attention. If there were enough resources available at all times, triaging would not be necessary. Comparably, if there was no achievement gap and no at-risk students at Berkeley High School, a redesign plan would not be needed. Those speaking out against the redesign plan and the idea of “initiating a school wide change to help only a few hundred students” (Daily Planet, Dec. 11) have perhaps not been in a situation where stepping back and letting the more critically ill people—or in this case the more at-risk students—be the priority. Is it possible that some Berkeley High parents are only supportive of progressive politics when their own children are not affected?  

Felicity Blau 

 

• 

WEST BERKELEY 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

Planning Commissioner Larry Gurley said the following about the West Berkeley area: “I’m not sure it’s in the city’s interest to provide storage for Berkeley residents.” Perhaps instead of trying to decide what is best for the rest of us, planning commissioners can trust the people involved—those that care the most about storage in West Berkeley. People in Berkeley want to pay to store their stuff in this city, and the owners want to make money providing that storage. Conclusion? Very clearly in the best interest of Berkeley residents as both sides benefit, and (as is very important in this city) their transactions have few, if any, negative externalities. Using land for mini-storage may not bring in as much revenue to the city, but increased city revenue is not the goal of land-use decisions.  

Furthermore, Mr. Gurley and others on the commission need to be reminded that the city of Berkeley is not a singular entity to be pleased, only an amalgamation of all its residents, each with different desires and ideas of what is best. Allowing some to be happy and to conduct storage business without having to fork over tax dollars should be a desirable thing. Lastly, I hope all land use controllers appreciate why this attitude towards planning engenders tremendous dislike towards them. You want to allow certain types of businesses and activities that conform to your idea of what Berkeley should be without regard to the large (but unseen) costs your meddling imposes on all Berkeley residents. 

Damian Bickett 

 

• 

2700 SAN PABLO AVE. 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

Chuck Heinricks suggested that the city buy the failed condo project at 2700 San Pablo Ave. for housing police. That’s a good idea, though maybe too late. When the property went into default this summer, I suggested to Councilmember Darryl Moore that the city purchase it for employees, especially first responders. We’re really going to be in trouble after the next big earthquake because so many of our firefighters and police live out of town. 

In Britain it is usual for towns to own and operate housing as well as parking garages, sport complexes, and other communal facilities. Instead of giving away so many development rights to private companies for the building of more big yuppie dormitories, we could create some attractive and affordable family-sized housing for city employees. 

For financing, the city could tap the enormous equity of older property owners who might be willing to pool their wealth for a stake in new housing development.  

Toni Mester 

 

• 

CAMEJO: FEET OF CLAY 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

Now that Peter Camejo is stone-dead, buried, lionized and memorialized, can we discuss his legacy?  

I always said Peter was a good candidate and spokesperson. I worked with him on two of his vanity projects, the Progressive Alliance of Alameda County in 1993 (a $20,000-plus failure) and his first run for governor in 2001 (a wash). I walked away thinking, “What a pompous, self-involved blowhard.” So my animus is well-earned.  

But I kept my opinions to myself. When a friend complained terly about the poor return on her investments at Progressive Assets Management, I ignored it because I had nothing to invest. And when Peter rallied his acolytes and initiated the divisive purge known as the “Greens for Democracy and Independence,” GDI (another failure), and began to target fellow greens with his Stalinist attacks, I still withheld my opinion. When he died and all the flowers started to drop, I was told it was in bad taste to criticize him. But I think it is a perfect time to share my distaste for this self-appointed egotistical millionaire political poseur.  

I can’t think of another white male leader during my entire history with the Green Party (since 1989) who has done more damage, both state-wide and nationally, than Peter Camejo.  

As for all those mystical superlatives, what would you expect? The only people at the memorial were his fans and supporters. Peter’s detractors, among whom I count myself, stayed away. 

Hank Chapot 

Oakland 

 

• 

MIDDLE EAST 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

For me and to many others, our opposition to President Carter’s statements on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict do not stem solely from his criticism of the Israeli government, but from the fact that he chastises only one side. I am hard pressed to find any statement of his taking the Palestinians—politicians and terrorists alike—to task for their actions. Many of us are saddened by discriminatory actions taken by the Israeli government and by strains of racism which permeate some—but hardly all—of Israeli society. And we are appalled not only by the actions of the Hebron settlers last week, but by the IDF’s refusal to take immediate action to halt these outrages. 

So when I and other members of San Francisco Voice for Israel counterprotest against groups we consider to be Israel-bashers (as we did against Bay Area Women in Black at the Ashby Flea Market last Sunday), we are there solely to support the right of Israel to exist in peace, as a Jewish state, within secure boundaries. We have a limited mission statement, because once we go beyond this narrow focus there are too many opposing opinions for us to agree on anything without alienating many of our members and supporters. And when we stand in opposition to larger groups, as we did at the annual AIPAIC dinner in San Francisco this week, it’s for the same reason and, even more so, to counter even more radical groups who declare that Israel has no right to exist. 

The Daily Planet seems to have fallen into the same trap that many of these anti-Israel protesters have found themselves—stating only one side of the case. Trying to find a way out of this morass is impossible when you have only one eye to guide you. Without a balanced approach to this quagmire, any effort at peace is doomed to failure. 

Marshall E. Schwartz 

Oakland 

 

EDITOR’S NOTE: The Daily Planet does not state just one side of this issue. In fact, the Planet itself rarely makes any statement at all on the issue, but, with the exception of an occasional editorial cartoon or Conn Hallinan column, merely publishes the views of its readers in the form of commentaries and letters. Opposing viewpoints are always welcome, but the Planet actually receives very few pro-Israel submissions; most pro-Israel submissions come in only in response to pro-Palestinian letters. It’s one of the pitfalls of free speech: If you don’t take advantage of this forum to express your views, surely your opposition will. So if a writer wants to make the case for Israel, this is the place to do it—better to be pro-active than just cry foul when the opposition makes its case first. 

 

• 

ISRAEL 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

With force of arms, the government of Israel lords over the fate of five million Palestinians who did not consent to be ruled by a government by Jews and for Jews alone, that speciously calls itself a “democratic and Jewish state.” But John Gertz decries the International Jewish anti-Zionist Network (IJAN) and our protest against this patently racist order. Gertz is perplexed that we condemn not only the current horrors of the Israeli occupation of Gaza and the West Bank—but that we call attention to the underlying problem, which is Israel’s ongoing conquest of Palestine .  

The Israeli government claims to speak for all Jews, and as Jews we recognize our implication in the colonial project that we unwittingly serve to justify. As anti-Zionist Jews, we seek to demonstrate that Jews are not united in support of Zionism. While Gertz seeks to politically isolate us, calling us the “quaint remains of an outdated worldview,” we assert our place in the great history of resistance that we are a part of; Gertz calls us “extreme,” but we contend that IJAN is a part of the contemporary global majority that is mobilized against colonialism, militarism, and occupation. 

In a blatant display of visual racism, Gertz complains about lack of “truth in advertising” because, as he writes, “in a group photo of a brand new group touting itself as comprised of Jewish anti-Zionists not all its members appeared to be Jews.” Gertz claims that people of the wrong ethnicity (wrong for him) attended our public demonstration—he says that, like his orange juice, we are not “100% pure.” Gertz’s argument is appalling: as he proposes to police our identities by scrutinizing our physical features, his statement reproduces the logic of scientific racism and recalls the oppressive ideology that has been used against Jews and others to justify persecution, forced sterilization and genocide.  

IJAN is a Jewish network. Founded by Jews who believe in equality and justice for all, it speaks unambiguously from a Jewish location. Unlike Gertz, we stand against racism not just in Berkeley, but everywhere, including Israel. IJAN includes Jews of many ethnic backgrounds and we proudly welcome participation and coalition with everyone who shares our passion for justice, whether they identify as Jewish or not. 

Brooke Lober 

Mich Levy 

International Jewish anti-Zionist Network, Bay Area 

 

• 

CARTER AND OBAMA 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

Joanne Kowalsky (Commentary, Dec. 11) fails to zero in on why Obama didn’t give former President Carter a speaking role at the Democratic Convention. Obama didn’t give Carter a speaking role not because of Jewish lobby opposition or because Obama doesn’t respect Carter’s policies or humanitarian efforts. No, Obama didn’t give Carter a speaking role because Carter as President was very bad for the Party. Carter took a Democratic Party enjoying an extraordinarily steep rise in popularity beginning in 1974 and ran it into the ground. Carter failed to include various coalitions of the party in his government. Too many Carter appointees were from his native state of Georgia and not enough from other regions. Hence, he was challenged by the very influential Senator Kennedy in the Democratic primaries of 1980. Plus, Carter was ineffective. His time as President was one of high inflation and high unemployment. Thus, Carter was ousted from power by the 1980 49-state landslide victory of Republican Ronald Reagan. As a future President who wants to serve two terms and to be an effective president, President-elect Barack Obama can ill afford to too closely associate himself with Jimmy Carter.  

Nathaniel Hardin 

El Cerrito 

 

• 

GREED TRUMPS HEALTH 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

Last summer the Congress passed and the president signed the Consumer Product Safety Commission Improvement Act which set a strong lead limit and banned the use of plastic softeners called phthalates in toys and other products designed for children and sold after Feb. 10, 2009. Phthalates are endocrine disruptors and hormone mimics. They have been linked to birth defects, early puberty in girls, deformities of the reproductive tract in male infants, and cancer. Did that solve the problem? Apparently not. The Consumer Product Safety Commission’s legal council has decided to reinterpret the intent of the Act to allow retailers to continue selling toxic toys until their back stock is sold, which may be long after Feb. 10. Greed apparently trumps health. 

Allowing greed to endanger these precious children is a violation of moral principles, common decency, and good sense. The CPSC should be called back to its mission to protect consumers. Christmas should not be an occasion for a child to receive a present that may permanently damage health. 

Joe Magruder 

 

• 

A THOUSAND SHOCKS 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

By the time Barack Hussein Obama is sworn into office he will have had 11 weeks to get his personnel in place, just barely enough time to assemble several hundred skilled people into a ship tight and sufficiently seaworthy to stay afloat and on course in a sea of troubles. The storms raging at home and abroad were created by eight years of incompetence, greed, neglect and insolence. The accumulated virulence, however, is unprecedented and so the new president’s ability to calm the seas will necessarily be an experimental endeavor.  

Meanwhile, everyone who can talk or write, including those in the punditry and in academia, has advice: put this person in the wheelhouse, avoid this guy, be careful not to steer here or to run with the wind, too fast or too slow, be bold, be circumspect, etc., etc. 

When the jubilant inaugural celebration ends we can be sure of one thing: the 44th presidency will set out on an “enterprise of great pitch and moment…” What we do not know is whether the course he takes is the one we hoped for when we voted for him. 

Marvin Chachere 

San Pablo 

 

• 

CONSERVATION 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

In an age where humans are increasingly disconnected from the natural environment, it is more pressing than ever to protect what remains of America’s pristine forest areas under the Roadless Areas Conservation Rule. It is important to remember that although most of us carry out our daily lives in urban concrete jungles, a vast and rugged wilderness is part of a truly unique American cultural heritage. The Roadless Areas Conservation Rule was passed by the U.S. Forest Service in 2001 in order to protect that last remaining areas of our national forest system that are truly “wild”—those areas that are completely free from road building and logging. This area makes up approximately 58.5 million acres of national forest, and is home to 1,600 threatened or endangered plant and animal species. Unfortunately, in the following eight years the Bush administration has done all it could to rollback the protection offered by the rule. This has been compounded by the efforts of big business, particularly the mining and lumber industries, which have filed nine lawsuits against the rule. With the new Obama administration we now have a fresh opportunity to make sure this important legislation is respected and upheld, but we as ordinary citizens have the responsibility to let those in power know that this issue is important to us. 

Rebecca Huyck 

 

• 

OUR DEADLIEST EXPORT 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

The Associated Press recently reported that the Mexican “war on drugs” has resulted in more than 8,000 deaths in the last three years, with about 5,376 in this year alone. Those murdered include judges, police, witnesses, journalists, and innocent citizens. There is a growing perception among Mexicans that the government is losing the war against these well-armed drug cartels. However, little is said about the source of the weapons used in these killings.  

For the period Oct. 1, 2004 to Sept. 30, 2007, weapons found discarded at shootings in Mexico or confiscated from the drug cartels were traced to 15 states. Texas sellers were the source of 2,085 weapons. California was runner-up with 1,006. Texas and California together are the source of more than the combined total of weapons from the other 13 states. An untold number of guns couldn’t be traced or are still in the hands of the drug cartels. The illicit drugs flow north and the weapons flow south. Under Mexico’s strict regulations, it is against the law to own or sell armor-piercing penetrating assault rifles and semiautomatic pistols. But they are legally available in sporting goods stores and gun shows in the United States where straw men buy them and then they are smuggled into Mexico. And weapons are easy to purchase in the U.S.  

Now, U.S. law only requires that dealers run an instant FBI background check to make sure the potential buyer has no felony convictions, is a U.S. citizen, and then require the buyer to sign a form attesting that the weapon is not for someone else. We have heard the old canard that “people, not guns, kill people.” Actually, it is people with guns that kill the most people. Obviously, the United States and Mexico must place more emphasis on catching gunrunners and tightening and enforcing the laws regarding the sale and purchase of weapons in the U.S.  

Ralph E. Stone 

San Francisco 

 

• 

RFID 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

Once again, those people at SuperBOLD (Berkeleyans Organizing for Library Defense)have got it right, and are willing to speak up on behalf of budget and best service. Once again, the public library is messing around with the check-out system when the obvious technique is bar code! 

Perhaps more persons would get involved in safeguarding the library (beyond cultcha) if the assistant library director would arrange for posting of all board meetings—regular and irregular—on the Planet’s Community Calendar, the city’s Community Calendar (access by clicking on “View full Community Calendar”), and the Library’s “Upcoming events” and “Board of Library Trustees.” 

Helen Rippier Wheeler 

 

• 

BRT—FAITH OVER LOGIC 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

I laughed all the way through the twisted logic of Charles Siegel’s commentary about the “Anti-Transit Crowd.” 

He complains that the same “familiar faces” opposed Bus Rapid Transit (BRT) at a recent AC Transit meeting. Yet, the majority of pro-BRT letters and commentaries are written by just three devout BRT worshipers, Mr. Siegel and two of his brethren. Through the entire election season, I do not think I saw one letter promoting BRT from a Berkeley resident who was not one of the few well-known “Friends of BRT.” 

By contrast, there were many new voices in the Planet opposing BRT, from people that Measure KK supporters had never heard of before. And such splendid voices they were! One person who we still have not met, Russ Tilleman, wrote several pithy and informative pieces. He suggested an explanation for the riddle of the empty 1R buses—invisible riders—an idea that still amuses me when I see a passengerless VanHool bus careen by. 

Dedicated bus lanes for BRT on Telegraph Avenue would essentially require eliminating local service on that route. I don’t want the local bus service cut. Actual people (visible ones, no less) use it every day. How the desire to continue service that is needed by real people can be deemed “anti-transit” is beyond me. 

This is an example of the twisted logic of the BRT religion. Up is down; black is white—kill the service that people depend upon in favor of service that isn’t used because it doesn’t stop near riders homes—and call it improved transit! 

Thank you Charles for your letters and commentaries. Keep those chuckles coming. 

Gale Garcia 

 

• 

FIRST AMENDMENT 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

This letter is in support of D. Minkler’s appeal to the First Amendment (“Popular speech needs no protection,” Daily Planet, Dec. 4). Guidelines concerning political expression should be as relaxed for an artist as they are for any other individual. Displaying in art works particular to any wide range of opinions is a daunting challenge. For example, in Cuba’s Old Havana there was a consecration ceremony for a new Russian Orthodox cathedral, “the second to be built outside the country (of Russia)” (Granma Int’l, Oct. 26). Someone might portray this as a nice gesture towards a culture and its architecture, while someone else might critique it as indicating toleration of a reactionary political/cultural institution.  

Minkler suggests for the Berkeley Art Commission an actual list of issues. In the list he omitted references to art in support of release of political prisoners. An example, to stick with Cuba: the Cuban Five in U.S. federal prisons now for 10 years. The Cuban Five were railroaded to prison for acting to prevent CIA-trained Cuban exile terrorists based in Florida from engaging in acts of piracy, bombings, hijackings, sabotage, murder, attempted assassinations etc. against the sovereign country of Cuba. The U.S. government unfairly seized and tried the five, kept them in isolation for months, and arrested and jailed partners (with U.S.-issued visas) who were trying to visit them. A picture display promoting winning their release could be an act of elementary solidarity. However, others might object to a focus on the Cuban Five when there are many others also deserving of freedom from U.S. Prisons (such as Leonard Peltier and Mumia Abu Jamal).  

Curating artworks’ different political views in the context of Berkeley is an art in itself. 

Fred Hayden 

 

• 

MIYA RODOLFO-SIOSON 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

Miya will be sorely missed. I enjoyed working with her, even when we were (occasionally) on opposite sides about contentious issues. Unlike many others, she rose above the impulse to be petty in acrimonious disputes. She dealt with conflict and disagreement in a classy, measured way. She never took political or policy disagreements to a personal level, and we remained on very good terms throughout the 8 years that I knew her. 

I am honored that I knew her and was lucky enough to work with her on many issues over the years. 

Jesse Townley  

 

• 

BAD IDEAS 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

Times are tough when millionaires who bought newspapers out of a fancy are struggling with overhead and costs.  

Times are even tougher when that struggle plays out in an aging, highly educated, mainly middle-class city—because I am sure to the publisher of this newspaper it doesn’t make any sense that The Planet is not making any money. 

In Becky O’Malley’s editorial (”Keeping Newspapers Alive: A Few New Ideas”), she floats non-profit status, pay as-you-go giving, subscriptions, and grants as possible ways to keep up the Daily Planet’s woeful status quo. Mrs. O’Malley even suggests wanting to put together an advisory board to offer their ideas. What a dumb idea: a for-profit company looking for help from non-investing individuals. If anything, she should offer “shares” to those she wants to share her influence with. Maybe they too will be millionaires. Think: soon we might have a whole circle of rich citizens who will get to use this editorial page as a demagogic soapbox. But the Daily Planet will to saved! 

The best option and the one that worked for me when I was a public radio program manager is to Live Within Your Means! That means to be innovative on small money and to keep to that until economic times improve. If this newspaper’s costs are hypothetically $6,000 per issue, and it prints seven or eight issues a month, spending is over $2.5 million each year. Costs can be brought down and spending can be wiser. Contractors could be hired and the paper could run longer weekly feature articles instead of a multitude of smaller stories. A good once-weekly with council/committee coverage; an Alameda-Contra Costa political gossip column; letters; the blotter; and one good feature story on a local news subject will be more innovative; more local than New Times; and save well over a million dollars each year. If that savings are in real dollars rather than borrowed cash or credit, the publisher can raise salaries and start investing in overhead again. 

I would challenge that if even if the Planet brought its costs up to raise readership and coverage in Oakland, which I hope for your sake you are seeing as a growth market, and only printed one issue per week it could still earn a tiny income in 2009.  

Good luck and to hell with all your bad ideas. 

John E. Parman 

Washington, D.C. 

 

• 

WINDOWS GALLERY 

Editors, Daily Planet:  

Censorship is a controversial issue, as evidenced by the amount of discussion in regard to the censoring of visual art from the Addison Street Windows Gallery. However, unless we are able to view the work, our judgment about this gallery’s decision lacks perspective. To facilitate an educated debate on this topic, The Red Door Gallery (reddoorgalleryandcollective.blogspot.com) will unveil two of the aforementioned censored works in their upcoming exhibition, Art and the Body Politick. Interested readers can attend a free and open reception from 6-10 p.m. Jan. 2 at 416 26th St., Oakland. Hopefully, this lends perspective to the discussion and encourages healthy discourse on a topic so critical to our community’s history. 

Lauren Odell Usher 

 

• 

CIVIL RIGHTS 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

History shows that each generation of Americans has been defined by a particular hardship and their ability to overcome it. Just as my grandma’s generation is defined by their ability to work through the Depression and help win World War II, and just as my parents’ is defined by their handling of the Civil Rights Movement, so shall mine be defined by its ability to overcome the struggles we face. In the last few weeks, perhaps one of the biggest hardships that my generation will have to overcome has presented itself. I’m talking about the battle against the gay marriage ban—the most logical next step towards universal civil rights.  

Contrary to the stereotype that’s been perpetuated against Democrats, I’ve always felt proud to be an American because our society has become increasingly more compassionate since its inception. Since the time our country was founded, the definition of freedom has expanded, not condensed. Each time we’ve taken a big step in advancing civil rights, in fact, has started when a group of people dared to stand up against the status quo. 

There is no denying that the same-sex marriage ban, like other examples of “separate-but-equal” type policies has prejudice at its core. Just as Jim Crow laws were defended by the assertion that segregation would help prevent interracial breeding, so was the marriage ban promoted as a form of keeping homosexuality from being taught in public schools. The good news is that, with the ’60s generation in mind, we can fight these similar forms of oppression the same way they were fought back then. 

In the weeks following Nov. 4, I find myself thinking more and more of the Civil Rights Movement—a time when my parents’ generation was able to cripple institutionalized racism and help put an end to the draft simply by protesting. I’ve realized, however, that one of their most important accomplishments was more symbolic. By successfully fighting against the draft and for civil rights, they showed future generations that the youth can have a voice.  

In 2003, when the war in Iraq began, most of the anti-war protests were organized and heavily populated by people my parents’ age. Now, the response to Proposition 8’s passing has been largely headed by teenagers and young adults. With the last 50 years in mind, I’m taking this as a sign that my generation is willing to step up to plate. 

Nate Gartrell 

Oakland 

 

• 

CLIMATE ACTION PLAN 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

The latest draft of Berkeley Climate Action Plan (CAP) for public review and comment is misusing its basic greenhouse gas information. 

Please look at the pie chart (page 5) for Berkeley in 2005. This chart shows gasoline transportation (autos) at 29 percent of greenhouse gas emissions, and diesel transportation (buses and trucks) at 17 percent. 

But then, in chapter 3, staff combines these two figures (total 47 percent) and erroneously blames the total percentage of emissions on cars, (page 25, paragraph 1): “automobiles within Berkeley city limits account for 47 percent of Berkeley’s total greenhouse gas emissions, approximately 293,000 tons per year in 2005.” An error this egregious renders all of the plan’s statistics questionable. 

In the case of natural gas, they choose to report residential emissions (19 percent) and commercial emissions (17 percent) separately. But they should be combined because they are the same type of emissions. So the single largest source of emissions in Berkeley is natural gas (total 36 percent), while gasoline transportation total is 29 percent. 

There is something quite good in Apendix C, buried in the back on page 171—My Very Own Climate Action Plan. It lists suggestions. Howewer the lists have been reversed from the original order so they now start with “Advanced Actions” instead of the easier actions most of us would begin. The easy actions add add up quickly, and little actions combined mean a lot! 

The advanced items begin with—can you guess?—sell your car. That is a big turnoff for most people. It is also ridiculous as stated. If you sell your car the buyer will likely drive away and continue polluting. The other Advanced Actions are costly, complicated and not easy to jump-start. But they are things we can think about now and plan todo later. 

Try to read and comment on this document. Deadline posted on-line for public comments is Jan. 16. But City Council will discuss this plan at their Jan. 13 meeting. So it is best to to have your comments date-stamped in time for the Staff Report—Jan. 7. 

I try to do all the little things to save energy, and to protect trees which absorb greenhouse gasses naturally in order to live. Think about trees and note how our politicians and UCB don’t hesitate to cut trees and pave the earth..  

Merrilie Mitchell 

 

• 

STATE GOP 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

GOP tactics are putting the whole state at risk. A handful of Republican legislators are trying to force their flawed and suspect anti-tax doctrine on tens of millions of Californians causing a financial earthquake. Who are these unsavory culprits and obstructionists? State Assembly and Senate members Mike Villines, Dave Cogdill, Dave Cox, Roger Niello, Ted Gaines, Kevin Jeffries and Rick Keane are GOP leaders holding the state hostage. 

Why doesn’t fellow Republican and Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger call the members of his party to task? 

Maybe it is the apathetic Californian citizenry and their ho-hum attitude that is adding fuel to this crisis. Will it take the loss of basic services to finally get the public off their easy chairs and say enough is enough to this GOP minority that is holding the state at bay? 

Ron Lowe 

Nevada City 

 

• 

REMOVE CORPORATE  

VETO POWER 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

The American middle class worker is being squeezed. Major corporations give their CEOs contracts that protect their salaries, bonuses, and benefits, but they deny those same protections to hard working men and women. When those same hard working men and women try to come together to form a union to gain those rights, they’re often harassed, intimidated, or simply fired by their superiors. 

It’s time for a change. The Employee Free Choice Act (EFCA) is a commonsense bill that was blocked by George Bush and the Republicans in Congress. It prevents employers from bullying working people who want to organize a union, and empowers workers by bringing democracy into the workplace and recognizing unions supported by a majority of employees. 

Unionized workers are the backbone of a strong middle class. They’re working harder than ever before, but they have less to show for it than at any other time. It’s time we gave them the power to organize around issues like health care benefits, a pension plan, and safe working conditions. American workers deserves all the same rights as CEOs. 

Jaquelin Pearson 

San Rafael 

 

• 

NORM ABRAMS IS GREAT 

Editors, Daily Planet: 

After watching Norm Abrams’ shows, This Old House and The New Yankee Workshop, on PBS for several years, I, as a beginner in carpentry, found that by osmosis had picked up some of the terms used, like “easing” a corner or “sistering” a support beam. He talks about joists and studs and rafters in a way that over time begins to make sense even to a beginner. 

He speaks as a friend who believes you can readily understand. His unobtrusive respect makes it possible to listen to descriptions of complicated, unknown topics without discomfort. We always feel grateful that this good guy is willing to spend time showing us how to do things and explaining how they work. 

He starts every show of The New Yankee Workshop by reminding us that it’s very important to work safely, continuing, “And remember, there is no more important safety tip than to wear this (points at glasses), your safety glasses.” And he does that himself. When he uses a lathe he also wears an additional face shield in front of the safety glasses. 

A good friend of mine, and a very capable person, lost an eye using a wood lathe years ago. (We were all less conscious of safety then.) So Mr. Abrams’ advice has personal meaning for some of us. 

When using a drill on some wood recently, I was in a hurry and didn’t feel like stopping to get out the safety goggles I had. I probably would not have, except for thinking of all the times Norm Abrams had taken the time to tell us once again about wearing your safety glasses. 

Since he had told us and told us that in a calm and caring way, I took the time to get the safety goggles out and put them on. Nothing happened in any case but it was certainly the wise thing to do. I’m glad there was someone somewhere who was enough of a human being to go out of his way to encourage people he does not know and may never meet to do things that will help them. 

So, I am grateful to PBS for having the wisdom to produce and air shows like these, and to Mr. Abrams for helping me to work more safely and to feel a little less lacking in knowledge when thinking about wood and furniture and houses and tools. 

And thanks also to all his wonderful colleagues, past and present. Great people all. 

Norm Abrams is great. 

Brad Belden 


Berkeley High School Deserves the Best

By Jessica Quindel and Amy Burke
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 06:59:00 PM

Across our country, millions of Americans embraced President-elect Obama’s message of change. They embraced this idea because they knew America could do better. Today, Berkeley High School is also ready for change. We support the Berkeley High School Redesign Plan because it will improve academic achievement for all students by providing personalization through a student advisory program, increasing time on task in academic and elective classes, providing greater student support services, and improving teacher quality through increased opportunities for professional development. Moving to a block schedule is a fundamental component of this plan.  

Recently, Berkeley’s progressive tradition drove the City of Berkeley and the Berkeley Unified School District to pass the 2020 Vision for Berkeley’s Children and Youth. Its goal is to empower all children, regardless of race, ethnicity and/or income, to achieve equitable outcomes, with no proficiency differences, by the year 2020. For too long, our educational system has not served its students as well as it should. We need to bridge the educational gulf. We cannot continue doing things the same way and expect different results.  

Studies show that improving the quality of teaching is the most significant factor in improving student achievement and preparing students for college. We acknowledge that there is a range of effectiveness of teachers at Berkeley High School, but to improve teacher performance, we need strong professional training. Berkeley High teachers are like talented players on a basketball team without time to practice together and with minimal coaching. Quality professional development includes time for teachers to share and plan lessons together, learn new instructional strategies for working with diverse groups of students, develop content knowledge, and become quality student advisors. Teachers should be held accountable for quality instruction, but we must be given adequate support. This plan gives teachers the resources needed to create more engaging lessons and improve academic success for all students. 

Our goal is to educate and challenge all of our students and move away from the factory model of schooling. All our students need to be prepared to succeed in college. The proposed block schedule actually resembles a college schedule since students would take a limited number of classes each day with more focus and in-depth learning. Recognizing these benefits, some of the top high schools in the nation, including Phillips Exeter Academy, Cambridge Rindge and Latin, and San Francisco’s Urban High School, use a block schedule. Moreover, all Berkeley middle schools have moved to a block schedule, so students are already familiar with this model. In our global economy, education, business and community leaders are looking for critical thinkers, problem-solvers, collaborators, communicators, and analyzers. We need a different system to develop the skills that colleges and the 21st century workplace demand. 

In the current schedule, much of a teacher’s day is spent in transition; welcoming students to class, introducing a topic or activity only to hurry students out the door as we shout out that night’s homework assignment. A block schedule will allow us to cover the material in more depth due to the reduction in transitions and increased time to develop innovative teaching strategies. A daily math lesson might include a warm-up activity, lecture on a new concept, a problem-solving group activity, student presentations, and introduction to the homework. Our current schedule doesn’t allow enough time to complete this kind of lesson in one session, even though it’s the kind of lesson that works best in schools around the country and world with high math achievement.  

Opponents of the Redesign Plan argue that the proposed schedule would lead to loss of instructional time. It is true, there will be some loss in instructional minutes—however, schools that have moved to a block schedule have reported an increase in time on task and in learning, which are more important than the number of minutes a student is physically sitting in a classroom. The cost-neutral Redesign Plan focuses on the quality of teaching, not the quantity. The Academic Support and Access Period will provide additional tutoring for students who are behind and opportunities for study groups for challenging Honors and Advanced Placement courses, giving students increased time in the day to get individualized support based on their needs. 

Opponents also argue that bad teaching is the reason we should not change the schedule at BHS. Let’s not lose sight of the fact that there is a national teacher shortage and that about 30 percent of teachers, mostly new and highly-prepared teachers, leave BHS each year because of the lack of support and a system that does not enable teachers to grow and excel. A number of great teachers, many in their first five years, have expressed that the Redesign Plan is what it would take to keep them teaching our students at Berkeley High. 

We share the belief of a diverse group of teachers at BHS that the Redesign Plan will improve the academic achievement for all our students. All students deserve individualized attention and support in meeting their academic goals and preparing for college, including a schedule and system that makes individualization possible. We should move away from a system where only some students have access to private college counselors while others have limited time to talk to a professional about their future plans.  

We came into teaching because we believe education is the most important factor in creating social and economic equality. We want to make a difference with all of our students by helping them learn the mathematical thinking they’ll need to succeed in college and beyond. We LOVE what we do. As undergraduate math majors with graduate degrees from Stanford and UC Berkeley, our college peers would ask why we would “waste” our math degrees on teaching. Our response: “Who do you want teaching your children?” We are proud to teach at Berkeley High School and believe that all students deserve highly qualified and prepared teachers, personalization, and access to a rigorous, college-preparatory curriculum. A Berkeley education should be nothing less than the best. 

 

Amy Burke and Jessica Quindel are Berkeley High School math teachers and co-teacher leaders of the Math Department. 


RFID and Nuclear Weapons: Continuing Misrepresentations

By Peter Warfield
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 06:59:00 PM

The Berkeley Public Library is continuing its unfortunate tradition of seriously misrepresenting the facts about radio frequency identification (RFID) as it seeks a waiver of the Nuclear Free Berkeley Act from the Peace and Justice Commission (P&J), and eventually from the City Council.  

The library wants to sign a multi-year maintenance contract with 3M, a company that has taken over this function from the original RFID system seller, Checkpoint—and 3M has refused to sign a standard city form verifying that it does not, and will not for the life of the contract, do “work for nuclear weapons.” 

In her Nov. 10 letter to the Peace and Justice Commission chair, seeking the waiver, Director of Library Services Donna Corbeil made no mention of the possible alternatives to obtaining maintenance from 3M, other than getting another RFID system from a different vendor. But the law requires any waiver consideration to evaluate alternatives and their costs. The most obvious alternative is to switch systems and install reliable, inexpensive bar code technology that continues to be used by 99 percent of libraries today.  

The bar code option would include using existing or new bar code checkout equipment—and eliminating expensive and unreliable RFID self-service checkout machines. Bar code self-service checkout machines could be substituted. Alternatively, staff could be provided as necessary to replace these machines altogether. That could provide more personal service and avoid the high cost of purchasing self-service machines that cost about $20,000 each.  

The library wants to keep its existing system, and its strategy appears to be to understate the ongoing costs, overstate the supposed benefits, and make any real alternatives look unthinkably painful and expensive. But the union previously recommended a return to bar code technology. And the Oakland Public Library did just that—it pulled the plug on RFID and went back to bar code technology several years ago at its Cesar Chavez branch.  

Past benefit claims for RFID have typically been unsubstantiated—and were actually incorrect.  

 

1. RFID was supposed to cut repetitive stress injuries (RSI) dramatically—but it did not.  

Actually, RSIs had been declining and went to zero—that is, none—in fiscal year 2003-2004, the year before RFID was installed. In fact, there are serious questions as to whether bar code technology necessarily causes any RSIs. As Lee Tien and I wrote in our March 4, 2005 Daily Planet Commentary analyzing Workers Compensation at the library, “RFID Should be Canceled Immediately,” “There were no RSI claims in 1998, 2000, and 2004, and only one RSI claim worth $1,008 in 1999.” Bar codes were used in all of those years.  

Our analysis of the library’s Workers Compensation history concluded: “Simply put, the documents we received from the library contradict the library’s claims that RSI is a major financial burden [when using bar code technology].”  

Indeed, RFID appears to have actually increased injuries. A Daily Planet report on April 6, 2007 said that “because the [RFID] system does not consistently function properly” a library worker reported “repetitive stress injuries are up.” The reporter added that this was “something of which Library Director Donna Corbeil says she is unaware.”  

 

2. Tag prices were supposed to go down—instead, they went up. 

The Berkeley Daily Planet reported on May 18, 2007, in “Library Budget Raises RFID Questions,” that Donna Corbeil said media “donut” tags for CDs and DVDs cost $2.12 and regular tags cost 77 cents each. The story noted this was up from prices reported to the Board of Library Trustees (BOLT) 19 months earlier, when the cost was $1.15 for donut tags and 60 cents for regular tags. That represents an 84 percent price increase in donut tags and a 28 percent price increase in regular tags. The story quoted the technical services manager as saying in 2005, “There is general agreement that in the near future the costs of the RFID security tags should drop below their current 60 cents apiece.”  

 

3. RFID was supposed to allow simultaneous checkout of multiple items, making the process easier and quicker for staff and public. It didn’t turn out that way. Checkouts typically occur one at a time, reportedly because reading multiple items is simply too unreliable. 

Here are some recent misrepresentations. 

The library sent a Dec. 5 letter responding to questions posed by two of three members of a Peace and Justice subcommittee which was appointed to do further research. The responses were quite unresponsive and highly misleading. 

Example one: The answer to one question indicated that RSIs had gone down with installation of RFID, when in fact they went up.  

The letter says, “Staff repetitive stress injuries fell significantly from six incidents in fiscal year 2002 and five in fiscal year 2003, to a single incident in fiscal year 2005 following the installation of self-checkout at BPL.”  

But the library’s list of years left out a crucial year—2004. In that year, before RFID installation, RSI claims were zero. In other words, RSIs had dropped to zero before RFID was installed, and actually increased in the year following installation.  

Example two: Question 4 asked, “How many libraries in the U.S. use RFID technology? The library’s reply was: “According to trade magazine ‘Computer in Libraries’ Feb-08 in a non-comprehensive survey there are 7,741 self-checkout units installed in U.S. libraries.” What the library did not make clear is that many self-service checkout units are not RFID—but typically use bar codes—such as Berkeley Public Library before installing its RFID system, and as currently used by San Francisco Public Library and others. The last figure for RFID installations that we have seen is about 300. There are more than 30,000 libraries in the U.S.  

RFID in the Berkeley Public Library has been an expensive failure. It has not lived up to performance and cost promises, and there are hidden costs including privacy threats and potential health risks. Bar code operation is far cheaper and more reliable, with bar code stickers and security strips costing from one-quarter to one-tenth the RFID tags. A bar code system is an alternative that would allow the library to avoid signing a contract with 3M, a company that refuses to sign that it does not, and will not for the life of the contract, do work for nuclear weapons.  

The Peace and Justice Commission will consider the waiver at its next meeting, Monday, Jan. 5, at 7 p.m. at the North Berkeley Senior Center, Hearst and Martin Luther King, Jr. Way. Please attend, and send letters to the commission, with copies to the City Council care of the city clerk, as the City Council has final say over whether a waiver is granted. 

 

Peter Warfield is executive eirector of Library Users Association. 

 

 


Address the Real Problems at Berkeley

By Yehuda HaKohen
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 07:00:00 PM

As director of the Zionist Freedom Alliance and one of the organizers of Israel Liberation Week at UC Berkeley last month, I was disturbed to learn some of the things being said about the ZFA not only by the “Students for Justice in Palestine” and their supporters, but also by the Bay Area’s organized Jewish leadership. For readers unaware of recent events at Berkeley, the ZFA hosted Israel Liberation Week on campus from Nov. 10-14. On the afternoon of Thursday, Nov. 13, we brought Jewish, black and Mexican performers together for a concert advocating Jewish national rights. A series of unnecessary events that began with a disruption of the concert by the SJP and ended in a violent confrontation between Arabs and Jews has since become the focus of media attention.  

Rather than address the underlying tensions at Berkeley that led to the unfortunate incident, the Jewish community leaders have placed the blame for the violence on the ZFA, labeling us as an “extreme right-wing” group and accusing us of brainwashing impressionable Jewish students towards confrontational behavior. But this libel holds no water when one looks at what we stand for and what we stand against. The ZFA message carries absolutely no anti-Arab or Islamophobic sentiment. ZFA has never brought speakers like Daniel Pipes or Walid Shoebat to any campus, nor have we ever screened alarmist anti-Muslim films like Obsession. To the contrary, genuine efforts were made to dialogue with members of SJP and the Muslim Student Association. I even personally invited SJP leaders to an Israel Liberation Week event called “Moral Dilemmas Confronting the State of Israel Today” that deals with certain problematic areas of Israeli government policy. Although similar efforts to engage in genuine dialogue with Muslim and Arab students on other campuses have been well received, we encountered only a hostile atmosphere at Berkeley to anything that could be labeled Zionist. 

In truth, the perception that Zionist students at UC Berkeley are “confrontational” is simply the most recent outgrowth of an obvious intolerance on campus for any individuals or groups who appear supportive of the Jewish state. In all my years working on university campuses, I have never encountered a climate of hate towards Israel like that at Berkeley. During the week I spent on campus, I witnessed pro-Israel students incessantly mocked, taunted and ridiculed by their peers. The Zionist students justifiably feel discriminated against by the university. The dean of students, Jonathan Poullard, told me following the concert that these Zionist students (most of whom are members of the Tikvah organization) have been making trouble on campus for the last year. But such “trouble making” simply means that these students have been assertive in their opposition to the anti-Zionist bigotry and SJP propaganda that has flourished unchecked at UC Berkeley for years. Before Tikvah, the activities of anti-Israel groups went unchallenged and no one contested the erroneous narrative that Zionism is akin to racism or that Israel is an oppressive colonial regime. But now Jewish students at Berkeley proudly proclaim their national rights and anti-Israel groups know that they no longer have free reign. 

Marginalizing any ideological group is dangerous, yet this is precisely what the UC Berkeley administration, dean of students, Jewish Student Union and campus Hillel have done to the leaders of Tikvah. If the administration is truly interested in calming tensions on campus, the first step is making pro-Israel students feel that their political views are valid and that Zionism has a legitimate place among the many other just causes at UC Berkeley. 

The ZFA’s overall message is one of Jewish rights. We unapologetically assert that the Jewish people, like all other peoples, enjoy national rights—specifically the right to self-determination in our homeland; without denigrating anyone else. Even though some Jewish leaders and groups are curiously afraid to vocally assert such rights, these are mainstream views within the Jewish community. Just because we promote the Jewish people’s legal, moral and historic rights to our country does not justify labeling the ZFA as a “right-wing” group. And neither does defending oneself from physical attack. It was the assertion of our own people’s legitimate rights that prompted the regrettable disruption of our concert by the SJP and the physical confrontation that ultimately followed. 

The ZFA leadership fully understands that the deplorable incident at our concert has justifiably alarmed many in the Bay Area community. We understand that it has brought long standing tensions to the forefront and forced Jews and non-Jews alike to deal with deeply rooted problems that have in the past been swept under the rug. But rather than seek a convenient scapegoat to deflect blame from local Jewish leadership, why not work together and address the real difficulties confronting pro-Israel students at Berkeley? Why not take advantage of ZFA’s experience and expertise in making the Berkeley campus, and the Bay Area in general, a more accepting place for those who speak of Jewish rights? 

 

Yehuda HaKohen is director of the Zionist Freedom Alliance. 


The Electoral College Has Gotta Go

By Bruce Joffe
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 07:00:00 PM

With the final vote count now certified, we can be very thankful that the victor’s margin was more than 8,500,000 votes. Had it been a closer election, with, say, a 500,000 vote margin, the wrong candidate—the one with fewer votes—might have been elected, once again. We know the terrible costs of this flaw in our electoral system: more than 4,000 American soldiers dead, 60,000 severely wounded, and three trillion dollars wasted on a war brought on by hubris and deception. This, plus 4 million Iraqi people displaced from their homes and over a hundred thousand killed. Now, in the twilight of this disastrous presidency, we are suffering an economic recession, a flat-out theft, of so many billions of dollars that one’s sense of outrage is numbly anesthetized.  

This calamity must never be repeated. We must transform our method of self-governing into a democracy in which everyone’s vote is counted equally. The current Electoral College system gives voters in sparsely-populated states like Wyoming, for example, one elector for every 82,110 voters—almost three times California’s ratio of one elector for every 226,622 voters. This disparity enables the candidate with fewer popular votes to win an electoral majority, thereby defeating democracy. The Electoral College system only accounts for the bare majority of the votes in each state, the candidate that receives one vote more than the opponent garners all of the state’s electoral votes. The surplus votes don’t count at all. In 2000, California’s margin of additional votes for Gore, 1,293,744, put him ahead of Bush nationally, but those votes were irrelevant once the electoral votes were determined.  

Objections to abolishing the Electoral College include the notion that without it, candidates would not campaign in states with small populations, and therefore those states would not have political influence. First off, this is a fallacy, because states shouldn’t count as campaign units, only people should count. Secondly, most states, both small-population and large, have a significant majority of voters who are committed to one party or the other. They don’t receive much campaign attention now, under the current system. Only a dozen or so “swing states” get most of the attention.  

Look at a map of red states and blue states on the county level, and you will find red counties in the blue states and blue counties in the red states. Break it down further, to the city level or neighborhood level and you will see even more mixture. All those blue people in the red states, and all those red people in the blue states, are ignored when the election is decided by statewide electoral votes.  

Without the state-based Electoral College, undecided or “swing vote” communities anywhere and everywhere would be suitable recipients of political campaigns. There are many ways that a candidate could build a coalition of like-minded voters. For instance, appealing to suburbanites, or to urbanites, or to small town residents; appealing to angry people, or to hopeful people, to salaried workers or to business owners. People, not states, should be the building blocks of political coalitions.  

What about farmers? They accounted for less than 2 percent of the employed population in 2000, and most food production is actually conducted by a handful of gigantic farming corporations. Ours is no longer a country where most of the people live in sparsely-populated agricultural states, as it was 220 years ago. If the Electoral College was established to protect the interests of farmers, it is obsolete now. Sure, the dwindling number of family farmers need protection, but from the farming mega-corporation lobbyists that run their states! 

We need our democracy to reflect our current era, a time in which every person in this country, whether located in the farms of Nebraska or the towns of Alaska or the cities of New York, can engage in the political process through many different channels—print media, radio, television, internet, as well as community meetings, precinct walkers, supermarket petition solicitors, leafleteers, and of course, bumper stickers. Every registered citizen can vote in this country, no matter where that citizen lives, and every vote can be counted. Every person’s vote should be counted equally. Our votes do not need to be filtered and discounted by a flawed, historic electoral system from a bygone century.  

We now know the consequences of the lesser candidate gaining the presidency. We are paying the price. We cannot afford to risk the calamity of another election stolen from the majority of voters. We can demand our legislators vote a Constitutional amendment to abolish the Electoral College, making the United States a fully democratic republic that is accountable to a majority of its citizens. When the Electoral College becomes a ceremonial anachronism of the past, then the threat of the lesser candidate gaining the presidency will be a thing of the past as well.  

Amending the Constitution is a difficult process, requiring the assent of two-thirds of Congress and three-quarters of the states’ legislatures. Another method for modernizing our electoral system, the national popular vote, may be more practical. This campaign encourages each state to pass a law binding the award of its electors to the candidate who wins the popular vote nationally, rather than to its statewide winner. This provision would only go into effect when enough states agree, so that their total electoral votes equal the 270 majority of the Electoral College. When that happens, the candidate who wins the total popular vote will automatically have a majority of the electoral votes. The national popular vote could take effect as soon as enough states pass laws agreeing to this interstate compact. Currently, four states (New Jersey, Maryland, Illinois, Hawaii) have enacted the national popular vote into law, the legislatures of four more states (Vermont, Rhode Island, Massachusetts, California) have passed the compact, and those of 38 states are considering bills that would put into the law the national popular vote. The full text of legislation, together with legal discussion and current updates, are available at www.nationalpopularvote.com. 

 

Oakland resident Bruce Joffe works as a consultant to city, county and state governments on the effective use of geographic information systems.  


In Support of Windows Gallery Decision

By Patrick Hayashi
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 07:01:00 PM

I agree with the judgment of the curator of the Addison Street Window Gallery and am glad that the Arts Commission supported her decision. When I first saw Jos Sances’ poster, I had an immediate, visceral, negative reaction. I tried to figure out why I had reacted so strongly. I thought about the Eddie Adams’ photograph upon which the poster was based. I remembered the pain on Nguyen Van Lem’s face as the bullet fired by Nguyen Ngoc Loan ripped through his skull. That photograph affected me deeply as it did so may others because it caused me to wonder about how the Vietnam War had destroyed the humanity of both men. Adams’ photograph, in turn, caused me to think about Nick Út’s photograph of 9-year-old Phan Th Kim Phúc running naked on the street after being severely burned on her back by an American napalm bomb. I thought that Út’s photograph was powerful precisely because it showed how individuals were being brutally victimized by American actions. I wondered if the pilots of the planes, after they saw the photo, reflected on the unspeakable pain they were inflicting on innocent people. 

I believe that in highly public places images of people who suffer because of American policies should first convey a sense of these people as human beings. I reacted negatively to Sances’ images because his images verged on racial caricature and stereotype. To me, they objectified people of color as little more than helpless victims. While the images may have elicited political outrage, they did not provide the basis for me to respond with empathy; they did not help me understand and feel my shared humanity with the people depicted. They failed to convey how the fundamental humanity of all people involved—aggressor, victim and witness—is threatened. I applied a simple test to the images: Would I want a young child to see the poster? My answer was no. If the child were a person of color, s/he might feel profoundly diminished without understanding why. If the child were white, s/he might look without feeling any human connection with the person depicted and walk on unaffected. 

I Googled Jos Sances and looked at some of his other art. I saw that other images, e.g., of Noam Chomsky, Pete Seeger and Dr. Martin Luther King, and his public murals, conveyed a deep respect for the humanity of his subjects. These images made me wonder if I was wrong to judge this poster so harshly. I realized that the poster upset me because when I was young stereotypical images of Asians, however well-intentioned, made me feel wooden and empty. They have the same effect on me as an adult. But as an adult, I can appreciate that Sances’ intentions are generous and humane. While I do not think his images should be displayed in a sidewalk window where people have no choice but to look at them, I am glad that I will have a chance to see them at the Pueblo Nuevo Art Center and to experience, first-hand, what they express and evoke. 

I very much appreciated the fact that Sances’ poster and the controversy sparked by the curator’s and the commission’s decision made me think about war, opposition politics, multicultural sensitivities, art, censorship and democratic values. Discussion of these issues is difficult and sometimes hurtful, but discuss them we must—particularly now. 

 

Patrick Hayashi is a Berkeley resident. 

 


Minority Rights for ‘Those People’

By Russ Tilleman
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 07:01:00 PM

Charles Siegel’s Dec. 11 commentary “The Anti-Transit Crowd Is at it Again” takes aim at a local minority group, using the tired old language of discrimination. He correctly points out that only a minority of Berkeley citizens voted for Measure KK, but he seems to have forgotten that legitimate democracies protect the rights of minority groups whenever possible. 

The people who live and work in my neighborhood, referred to as “those people” by Mr. Siegel, have legitimate concerns about Bus Rapid Transit. Maybe Mr. Siegel would not personally be affected in the same way as the people who live here, but that does not give him the right to discount the effects BRT would have on our lives. In decades past, many whites resisted equal rights for racial minorities, because they didn’t care about “those people.” Mr. Siegel’s rhetoric would fit right in with their arguments. 

Instead of name calling, personal attacks, and gross distortions of reality, the proponents of BRT should be making their case based on the science of global warming and the legitimate needs for public transit. If they do not have the science and transportation training and experience to make their case that way, they should hire some impartial experts who are qualified to do so. As it is, someone like Mr. Siegel can make an apparently untrue statement, such as “AC Transit has promised to mitigate” the loss of parking for neighborhood residents, and all that people like me can do is try to point out that he is wrong. To my knowledge, AC Transit plans to convert 72-hour parking spaces in my neighborhood into short-term spaces with parking meters. They will not be constructing parking garages or adding any other new spaces to make up for these lost long term parking spaces. So they have not promised to mitigate the BRT parking impact on the people who live here. If AC Transit makes a legally binding promise to build a parking garage for us that would replace every removed space, I will stop complaining about BRT’s impact on parking. 

Lies will not save the polar bears. We need projects that will reduce greenhouse gas production. Sadly, BRT looks like it will increase greenhouse gases, but the citizens of Berkeley should not have to take my word on this. There should be an independent, impartial group of experts who can honestly tell us what we can expect out of BRT. AC Transit is not impartial, or an expert. Mr. Siegel is certainly not impartial, and he doesn’t appear to be much of an expert either. Likewise with the Van Hool bus company, whose US distributor financed the campaign against Measure KK. 

Personally, I am proud to be one of “those people” who are willing to stand up for their rights. And I like to think that, if an issue like this someday affects people who live and work in another neighborhood of Berkeley, I will be considerate of their rights as well. After all, that is the way real democracies are supposed to function. When citizens find themselves in the majority on an issue, they consider the rights of the minority. One of the reasons they do this is because, sooner or later, they are likely to find themselves in the minority on another issue. What goes around, comes around. 

Democratic governments are supposed to represent all their citizens, weighing the benefits of a proposed act to one group against the harm to other groups. If the people of Berkeley make an informed decision to sacrifice the quality of life in my neighborhood for the legitimate greater good, so be it. But basing important decisions on misinformation, and belittling the concerns of an affected neighborhood, is not good government. Even if most citizens of Berkeley don’t live in this neighborhood and won’t be directly affected by BRT, eventually an issue may arise that does affect them. How can they expect me to care about their neighborhood if they don’t care about mine? 

 

Russ Tilleman is a Berkeley resident.


Bus Rapid Transit Proponents at it Again

By Jim Bullock
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 07:02:00 PM

Charles Siegel’s entire Dec. 11commentary (“The Anti-Transit Crowd Is at it Again”) is based on a fallacy. In it, Mr. Siegel equated, as he has on many occasions, opposition to AC Transit’s current BRT proposal with being “anti-transit.” No one that I know who is anti-BRT is anti-transit. It is, in fact, just the opposite. Those of us who oppose the current BRT proposal oppose it because we are pro-transit. We want to see taxpayer dollars spent for real improvements in public transportation in the East Bay. The current BRT proposal is not projected to provide any benefit which would justify its enormous cost. 

The following facts, which I have pointed out on several occasions, come directly from the BRT draft environmental impact report (EIR). The draft EIR is, to my knowledge, the only publicly available study of AC Transit’s specific proposal. I challenge Mr. Siegel (or anyone else) to refute these statements, not with rhetoric or high minded and well-intentioned desires for improved public transit, nor with results of BRT implementations in other cities, but with documentation from any other publicly-available study of this specific proposal. We are, after all, not debating BRT as a concept—we are debating a specific BRT proposal, a proposal which has been studied by traffic engineers, transportation engineers, and city planners. 

1. The current BRT proposal will not increase transit usage very much. By the year 2025, total daily East Bay transit boardings without BRT are projected to be approximately 659,800. With the most successful of the BRT alternatives, the projected 2025 ridership is 670,100—a 1.6 percent increase. 

2. The current BRT proposal will not save energy. Here’s a quote directly from the draft EIR: “The energy impacts of the Build Alternatives as compared to the No-Build Alternative would be negligible.” 

3. The current BRT proposal will have essentially no effect on Alameda County air quality. If the current BRT proposal is built, the resulting projected decrease in carbon monoxide, reactive organic gases, nitrogen dioxide, sulfur dioxide and suspended particulate matter is just 0.03 percent. 

Compare those projected results with the following projected costs. 

1. The current BRT proposal will cost at least $250 million to build. Actually the draft EIR estimates the costs between $310 and $400 million. Since then, however, AC Transit has reportedly found alternate construction methods that would would reduce the project cost to under $250 million. (What a relief! To qualify for funding under the federal Smart Starts program, the project must cost less than $250 million.) 

2. The current BRT proposal will increase AC Transit’s operating costs from $4.9 to $8.8 million. Funding for $3 million of these additional costs has been identified, which leaves a funding gap of $1.9 to $5.8 million per year. Would anyone like to speculate how much fares will have to be increased to fund the operation of BRT? 

With our federal govenment slowly sinking under the weight of massive deficits and our city and state governments facing enormous, painful cuts in vital services such as education and health care, we taxpayers must be smart about how we spend every single dollar. For our own health and the health of our planet, we must fund mass transit projects which result in increased transit ridership, decreased energy use and reductions in air pollutants. The current AC Transit BRT proposal is not such a project and should be scrapped. 

 

Jim Bullock is a Berkeley resident. 

 


A Few More Thoughts on the Abraham Lincoln Brigade

By Lawrence Jarach
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 06:59:00 PM

Don Santina is apparently incapable of discerning between disputing the lopsided writing of history and “historical revisionism.” Neither can he acknowledge that criticizing Communist Party politics do not make the critic a “McCarthyite.” Historical revisionism, in the lexicon of neutral historians, denotes questioning the dominant interpretation of past events. I would be honored to accept the label if Santina were using it descriptively instead of as an insulting conversation-stopper. The main Revisionist issue is Holocaust Denial, a predominately right-wing position, and Santina’s clear intent is to paint me with that brush, along with the other right-wing phenomenon he mentions: paranoid American anti-Communism. As an anarchist, my distrust of Leninists and Stalinists is directly tied to the often homicidal interactions (initiated by them) between the partisans of our respective movements, and has absolutely nothing to do with the frenzied Cold War hunt for secret Communist sympathizers and agents. I have no connection to Rush Limbaugh either—another of Santina’s absurd attempt at guilt-by-association, made in conscious bad faith.  

Santina claims that I’m being silly for alleging that he asked for special care for Ted Veltfort at Kaiser, yet that’s exactly what he wrote: “I told the doctor to take special care of him…” If all Santina wanted to do was alert his doctor to Veltfort’s remarkable past, he could have done so in the course of a conversation not related to his medical care. 

The Lincolns were one of six battalions that made up the XVth International Brigade. Magically multiplying the number of Americans who fought in the IBs was a deliberate distortion. No contortions are necessary to correct that, just a commitment to honesty over slick public relations. Contrary to what Santina says, numbers are not silly. 

None of the Lincolns (or any other brigadista) ever entered into any agreement concerning their lengths of service in the IBs. Yet if any of them left the front without a pass or overstayed their leaves, they were rounded up as deserters and either returned to the front in labor battalions (not brigades this time!), incarcerated in one of several IB prisons, and/or summarily executed. That’s hardly a voluntary situation, at least not in my understanding of the word. Maybe Santina thinks words are as unimportant as numbers. 

I paid Milt Wolff an inadvertent compliment by calling him a commissar, since they outranked all military officers in operational matters within the IBs. I stand corrected on that one detail, an admittedly important distinction. 

The sad case of Oliver Law’s death is, contrary to Santina, not conclusive. Some insist he was killed by Nationalist bullets; others say he was shot by one of his own men. The fictionalized version has the character based on Law beaten to death. Regardless, how sworn statements of eyewitnesses could be transformed into an “outright lie,” or how my bringing it up becomes a “racist canard” is not explained.  

Most of the early Lincolns, staunch Communist union men, were accustomed to forming grievance committees on the job, and they continued to do so at IB bases and in the trenches. Their complaints against what they considered unfair treatment from officers and commissars was what made them politically unreliable, not their implied independence from Stalinism in general and/or the orders of their Comintern commanders in particular. Nowhere did I mention or imply that the Lincolns were “Stalinist dupes,” another example of Santina’s bad faith. 

Those who fought with the IBs undoubtedly thought of themselves as fighters for freedom and justice; nobody who fights for a cause believes they’re fighting to impose slavery and discrimination—at least not upon those they consider allies. But what anyone thinks about what they do has little to do with the actual social consequences of their actions. Those who fought to defend the Spanish Republic by enlisting in an army organized and controlled by the Comintern were implicitly—and in some cases explicitly—fighting against what Santina refers to as “the heroic revolutionary achievements of the Anarchist collectives.” In revolutionary Spain beginning in July 1936, the choice was between promoting and extending that revolution or propping up the Popular Front government; those who chose the latter helped to bury the former, whether or not they thought that was what they were doing.  

Santina attempts to forestall any possibility that readers will look further into the history of revolutionary Spain by discrediting my analyses, putting me in league with right-wing anti-Communists, racists, and possibly Holocaust deniers. Such clumsy straw man caricatures and obviously false associations are beneath contempt, but plenty of lies have been told about anarchists throughout history. I and others, however, shall continue to defend ourselves and our political predecessors against such contemporary defamation and calumny, turning a critical eye toward self-serving propaganda and historical distortions, regardless of the uncomfortable conclusions.  

 

Lawrence Jarach is a Berkeley resident.


Columns

First Person: Academic Journey—Two Crashes

By Marvin Chachere
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 06:51:00 PM

One Friday in early March of 1965 I received in the mail two job offers: mathematics instructor at Diablo Valley College and Extension specialist at the University of California, Berkeley. 

At the time I was a high school teacher and, if there is a top tier in high school teaching, I had reached it. The year before an article of mine was published in The Mathematics Teacher. 

If I took the DVC job I’d have fewer classes, teach a wider range of math subjects and make a bit more money. The UC Berkeley job paid about the same but I had no idea what an Extension specialist did. 

I took the UC Berkeley job. 

My teacher friends tagged me a traitor; the incompatibility of administrators with teachers was pronounced, like that between dogs and cats. 

That was how my academic journey started, and as it progressed I encountered teapot-sized obstacles, adventures and surprises that I now recall with fascination and that form a souvenir collection in my memory bank, gathered here and there during the 17-year arc of my career. In particular I learned to appreciate F.M. Cornford’s cynical advice offered a century ago to the young academic politician: show “…just enough bitterness to put a pleasant edge on your conversation” (Microcosmographia Academica, 1908). 

Although I was ignorant of what it entailed, I was comfortable with my choice. I’d been on the receiving end of academia for a long time and felt familiar with its shape; I’d recently put the cap on my graduate work at UC Berkeley with an M.A. to go along with my B.A. and my M.Ed. Obviously, holding these degrees helped, and yet, as it turned out, they contributed only marginally and indirectly to the work that lay ahead. 

Extension’s motto was “Lifelong Learning.” I was assigned a desk, a telephone, given a collection of instructors on 3x5 cards ordered by academic specialty and told to schedule courses for the general public. So, my job was to extend the university’s reservoir of knowledge. Registered UC Berkeley students drank directly, Extension students from a straw, as it were. I was directed to use last semester’s Extension catalogue as a guide.  

My boss, eschewing the ivory tower metaphor, placed Extension on the growing edge of the university; the first course in Shakespeare was offered by Extension in the early years of the 20th century; the English Department followed years later. UCLA itself began life as an extension of UC Berkeley. 

By the time I realized that the Extension Department was near the bottom of the academic pecking order—the Physics Department was on top, followed closely by Biology, Chemistry, Mathematics, etc.—I had also experienced the wide-ranging and invigorating challenges inherent in its entrepreneurial slant. 

Fees paid to Extension had to cover all expenses, including my salary. I had not, as it happened, become an administrative dog; I was a free-market entrepreneur who contributed to an exotic menu of Extension programs, marginally appended to the university’s state-funded mission.  

The challenge struck an enthusiastic chord in me that I never knew was there. I produced a lecture series, “Creativity and Discovery in Mathematics,” searched and found an instructor for a course in the history of mathematics, a course not offered in the Math Department. 

However, this article is not about my successes, such as they were. It is an account of a couple of crashes in which I failed to grow the margin—failures that reveal, I think, the tender hidebound core of academia. The first crash, illustrates the temerity endemic to academic institutions. 

I developed a multifaceted program titled “The Black Experience.” It was centered on a series of lectures, each sandwiched between discussion groups chaired by scholars and located at sites in different sections of Berkeley’s black neighborhoods. The Civil Rights Movement had by now grown contentious with disputes between the followers of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and those of Malcolm X. I hoped to diminish the virulence, or at least introduce a distraction by casting an academic light on the plight of citizens, demeaned, belittled and second-classed because of their slave forebears. 

I was on the verge of sending the brochure to be printed when I was obliged to scuttle the entire project.  

I withdrew lecture invitations that had been accepted by such notables as Lerone Bennett Jr., executive editor of Ebony Magazine, Dr. Price Cobbs, psychiatrist and co-author of the bestseller Black Rage, and Katherine Dunham, world renowned anthropologist, dancer and choreographer.  

Major social changes always generate a destructive wave that drowns compromise; anyone who stood in the gray area was either white-ed out or inked in, while individuals with rhetorical talent and dramaturgical instincts rose like sludge to the top.  

On campus Negro students (Colored, Black, Afro-American, African-American—no consensus existed regarding the label) formed a united but discordant group that marched daily outside the Chancellor’s office demanding that he establish a Black Studies Department. The leaders decided that my project, “The Black Experience,” subverted their purpose by giving the Chancellor a plausable excuse for inaction, i.e., Black Studies is already being launched in the Extension Department. Scatological language was used. Threats were made. End of program, end of story. 

The second crash involved a survey course in American music.  

Every program offered by Extension had to receive approval from an appropriate department within a dozen or so campus schools and colleges. If the course or program carried credit, additional approval by the Academic Senate’s Committee on Courses was necessary. 

Weeks after I routed the course title, description, instructor’s bio and three reference letters to the Music Department, I called thinking the documents had been lost or mislaid. The administrative assistant told me the chairman had the documents and transferred my call. The chairman said that he would not approve the course and when I asked why he told me, “There is no such thing as American music. All music composed here is derivative.” 

I was stunned, speechless. I took this to mean that musical works in “Old World” forms belonged to the “Old World” no matter where or who composed them.  

This was a tenured professor telling me, by implication, that Ives, Copeland, Grofe, Bernstein were pseudo-Europeans. 

Thus, I came to appreciate “…fully the peculiarities of powerful persons, which [was] sufficient to sicken any but the most hardened soul” (Cornford again). 


Dispatches From The Edge: Angels and Demons in Mumbai

By Conn Hallinan
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 06:52:00 PM

Two things emerge from last month’s horrendous attack on Mumbai: one is how interconnected South Asia is with the rest of the world. The other is how the Carter Administration’s ill-conceived strategy in Afghanistan more than 30 years ago still reverberates throughout the region. Decades of subversion, terrorism and invasion have created what historian Vijay Prashad calls a “cauldron” from which has emerged avenging angels and dark demons in equal measure. 

Consider for a moment the following:  

1) Lashkar-e-Taiba, the organization that launched the terror attack, was organized not in Pakistan, but in Kunar Province, Afghanistan, as part of the U.S. war on the Soviet Union. Its patron, Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence Agency (ISI), later turned it against Indian troops occupying Kashmir, but initially the organization was one of a number of Muslim extremist groups, including the Taliban, cobbled together by Pakistan, the U.S. CIA, and Saudi Arabia. 

2) When the U.S. invaded Afghanistan in 2001, it drove the Taliban into Pakistan’s Northwest Territories and tribal lands. When the organization began a comeback in 2004, the Bush Administration pressured the Pakistanis to send troops into the region to fight the insurgents and seal off the border. No one in recorded history has ever successfully subdued the Pashtun tribes who inhabit the area, and the Pakistani Army soon found itself under siege. While Islamabad’s invasion did nothing to quell the Taliban’s infiltration into Afghanistan, it did spark the creation of a homegrown Pakistan Taliban, which has launched scores of attacks and recently destroyed the Islamabad Marriott Hotel. 

3) For years, the U.S. has tried to leverage India away from its traditional foreign policy of non-alignment and neutrality. It has particularly wanted to rope New Delhi into its campaign to surround China with hostile bases and allies. Under the rightwing Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) government, India signed onto the U.S. anti-ballistic missile system and, under the current government, has expanded military ties and cooperation with Washington.  

Most of all, India wanted to break out of the nuclear isolation imposed on it and Pakistan after both countries tested nuclear weapons in 1998. Under strictures imposed on the two countries, no member of the 45-nation Nuclear Suppliers Group could sell uranium to either one unless they agreed to sign the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NNPT). This was particularly onerous for India because the country has limited domestic supplies of uranium ore. 

The White House saw an opportunity: craft a deal that lets India buy uranium ore without having to sign the NNPT in exchange for increased military ties with the U.S. and for sending aid and road building engineers to Afghanistan. The so-called 1-2-3 Agreement allows India to purchase uranium for its civilian program and use its domestic sources for its weapons program. Not only will this spark a nuclear arms competition between Pakistan and India, it threatens to unravel the NNPT, one of the few remaining treaties that prevents a worldwide nuclear arms race.  

For Pakistan, the U.S.-India quid pro quo is deeply threatening. On the one hand, Indian involvement in Afghanistan squeezes off Islamabad’s “strategic depth,” a place to retreat to in the event of a war with the much more powerful Indian Army. On the other, the 1-2-3 Agreement means Pakistan has to ramp up its nuclear weapons and missile programs in the midst of a devastating economic crisis that has seen inflation rise 15 percent and food insecurity spread to 86 percent of the population. 

4) The Carter and Reagan Administrations’ jihad against the Russians translated into supporting whoever would aid the infiltration of mujihideen into Afghanistan and later back the 2001American invasion. If that meant backing military dictators like Mohammad Zia-ul-Haq and Pervez Musharraf, who crushed democracy and filled the pockets of their feudal supporters with gold, so be it. The result, of course, was entrenched extremists groups—some of whom eventually blew up the World Trade Towers and attacked the Pentagon—and weak civilian control over the government. 

Over the past year, the wave of U.S. attacks on Pakistani targets using remote- controlled robot aircraft has helped to undermine the current civilian government. 

5) Part of the Bush Administration’s wooing of India involved turning a blind eye to Kashmir, one of the most dangerous flashpoints in the world. When India and Pakistan refused to accept a United Nations-sponsored referendum that would have allowed Kashmiris to decide if they wanted to opt for India, Pakistan, or autonomy, it set off a vicious shadow war between New Delhi and Islamabad. The Pakistani ISI infiltrated fighters to attack Indian troops in Kashmir, and Indian troops responded with savage repression. This past August, the Indian Army brutally crushed the largest non-violent demonstrations in Kashmir’s history. An estimated 80,000 people have died over the past 20 years, and the area has spawned terrorist attacks throughout India.  

Pakistan and India have a long history of mutual grievances, but as each country is drawn deeper and deeper into the orbit of the U.S. and its allies, those grievances have become more dangerous. In the 1999 Kargil border incident, both countries came distressingly close to a nuclear exchange, and there are elements in both countries that talk quite openly about the possibility of a nuclear war. The 1-2-3 Agreement, and the nuclear arms race it will ignite, adds yet another explosive ingredient to the volatile “cauldron” that makes up Indian-Pakistani relations. 

To date, the response of both countries to the Mumbai attack has been measured.  

India has accused Pakistanis of being behind the attack, but has not charged that the Islamabad government was directly involved. It has also refrained from any overt military moves as it did following the 2001 terrorist attack on India’s Parliament.  

Pakistan, which denies any official involvement in the Mumbai assault, has raided a Lashkar-e-Taiba training camp and apparently arrested some of the organization’s leaders. Pakistani President Asif Ali Zardari condemned the attackers as “enemies of civilization” and called on India to work with Islamabad “together to track down the terrorists who caused mayhem in Mumbai, attacked New York, London and Madrid in the past, and destroyed the Marriott Hotel in Islamabad.” 

Left parties in both India and Pakistan have called for restraint. India’s Communists want their government to rely on the UN, not the Indian Air Force, and Pakistan’s Communists are calling for a “unified commitment…to combat extremism and terrorism in all its shades and colors.” 

There are, however, actors on both sides who see an advantage in having India and Pakistan at each other’s throats. Lashkar-e-Tabia and other extremist Pakistani groups would like nothing more than to increase the polarization between Hindus and Muslims. So would their ideological counterparts in India, rightwing Hindu extremists in the BJP and the semi-fascist Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS). The BJP has already made “national security” the centerpiece of its election campaign, and the Party’s general secretary has called for India to respond the same way the Bush Administration did in the aftermath of 9/11. 

Such a response “knocks at the doors of insanity,” says P. Sainath, India’s leading investigative reporter and last year’s winner of the Ramon Magsaysay Award, Asia’s equivalent of the Pulitzer Prize.  

The Indian journalist is currently teaching a class in the graduate school of journalism at UC Berkeley. 

Sainath points out that the result of the American response to 9/11 was two disastrous wars, close to a million deaths and, according to Nobel Laureate economist Joseph Stiglitz, a three trillion dollar butcher’s bill for the Iraq War. That figure, says Sainath, is “about three times India’s GDP.” 

Rather than talking of war and revenge, Sainath suggests that the most important thing both sides can do is to act in way that “denies the authors of this outrage the success of their goal.” To that end he sees resisting polarization along religious and ethnic lines as critical. And rather than “undermining the constitution,” as the Bush Administration did in the aftermath of 9/11, he calls for “shredding chauvinism and jingoism.”  

In his commentary in the New York Times, Zardari argues “reconciliation and rapprochement is the best revenge against the dark forces that are trying to provoke a confrontation between Pakistan and India, and ultimately a clash of civilizations.” 

As for Americans: isn’t it time we examined our part in setting loose the avenging angels and dark demons that have brought South Asia to the edge of an abyss? 


Undercurrents: A Beginning Analysis of the Dellums Administration

By J. Douglas Allen-Taylor
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 06:53:00 PM

I have long believed that in the first term of a two-term, four-year administration, the second year is the one to watch if you’re trying to figure out where the administration is going. The first year can be spent getting oriented, hiring staff, learning the situation, and beginning the first policy initiatives. Unless the mistakes are spectacularly bad, there is plenty of time left in the term to make up for first-year mistakes. The fourth year is an election year, and the administrator—president, governor, or mayor—is either deeply involved in running for re-election or have decided to settle for one term. The record upon which a four-year administration is running for re-election, therefore, must be firmly established by the third year. Because most government policies take a long time to actually bear fruit, things which an administration wants to make manifest in the third year must have already been planted at least a year in advance. Thus, it’s at the end of the second year that you can start making judgments of possible success or failure. 

Because the administration of first-term Oakland Mayor Ron Dellums is moving towards the end of its second year in office, we’ve now reached the proper time to start making those long-term judgments. 

Let me suggest a beginning framework for analysis by posing three questions regarding, so far, the success or failure of the Dellums administration. Has the Dellums administration fulfilled the enormous hope and promise generated by the Dellums candidacy? Has the mayor carried out his core responsibility of running the city? And, finally, how have the mayor’s record and actions, so far, affected his chances for possible re-election? 

The quick answer to the first question—has the Dellums administration fulfilled the enormous hope and promise generated by the Dellums candidacy—is easy: no. But that answer, of course, demands some clarification. 

Ron Dellums was elected mayor of Oakland, in part, on a wave of expectation and belief that his election would spark a progressive overhaul of Oakland’s government and institutions. After a barren eight years under Jerry Brown in which Oakland progressives essentially wandered in the wilderness—shut out of most important City Hall decision-making and relegated to a sideline of letter-writing and press-conference protesting and two-minute speaking at public comment time before the City Council—there was a feeling of euphoria in the spring and summer of 2006 that under Mr. Dellums, Oakland would experience a sort of South African-type overhaul in which the bottom rail would replace the top and a wind of change would blow open the doors of Oakland’s halls of decisions. How all of this would actually work was never specifically spelled out—and it was certainly never specifically promised by Mr. Dellums himself—but that feeling that we were at the beginning of a new era of progressive-and-popular overturn and involvement reached its peak with the creation of the Dellums community task forces in the summer and fall of 2006, months before the mayor even took office. 

But in his first two years in office, we have not seen what you would describe as progressive, open-style government in Oakland. The mayor has governed with a close hand, less like the shade tree mechanic who sips a beer and shares jokes and stories and invites everybody to stand around and offer comments and suggestions or hand him tools while he works under the hood of your car, more like the standard repair shop that puts up signs reading “employees only allowed in here,” and asks customers to either wait in the lobby or come back only when they get a call that their vehicle has been repaired. It is not a bad style of government. But it is not what a lot of people expected.  

The loudest and most persistent criticisms of Mr. Dellums have come from those people who confess that they never supported the mayor in the first place, and did not vote for him. But the bitterest disappointment has come from progressives who supported the initial Draft Dellums petition campaign and worked for the mayor’s election, but now feel that the administration has not lived up to its expectations. Many of those progressives feel that they are still being ignored and are still standing on the sidelines, but the pain of it is worse, because now they feel that they are being ignored by someone they considered their champion and a progressive icon. Most of Mr. Dellums’ progressive detractors can be brought back into his fold, I believe, because he does not appear to have lost their core respect. But like once-burned lovers, they will be far more cautious and circumspect, the second time around, and the wild progressive enthusiasm for Mr. Dellums that marked 2006 is probably forever lost. 

But has the mayor carried out his core responsibility of running the city? If you’re looking for the definitive answer to that question, you’re going to be disappointed. The answer depends upon the criteria put forth by the person posing the question, and those criteria have a wide variance. 

The criteria I use for judging an administration, as an example, are the same as I’d use for judging a cardplayer. You must consider the way the cards are played, of course, but you must also consider what hand was dealt. The success or failure of Jerry Brown—whose eight-year administration encompassed the boom in the real estate market—must understandably be judged by a different yardstick than the one used for judging Ron Dellums, who came into office as we were entering the greatest national economic downturn since the Depression and, to make matters worse, was also tasked with cleaning up the mess Mr. Brown had left behind. That is not to make excuses for Mr. Dellums. That is only to set fair criteria for judgment. 

And while we ought not to set our bar of expectations too low, we ought to set it at a level that is reasonable to achieve. Some see the success or failure of the Dellums administration falling, for example, on whether or not the mayor is able to “solve” Oakland’s problems of crime and violence, that is, to bring crime and violence down to some “acceptable” level. Even allowing for a variance in the differences in what one considers “acceptable,” that would seem out of step with the realities of Oakland in 2008. 

Instead, I believe it is more reasonable to look at Dellums Term One (there is no implication that there will be a Term Two…this is only to keep things straight) as a transition administration. If one believes that during the Jerry Brown years, for example, Oakland floundered around with no well-defined plan that could reasonably be expected to lead to a significant reduction in crime and violence in the city and a public safety infrastructure ill-equipped to carry out such a plan even if it existed, then the reasonable goal for the Dellums administration would be the development of such a plan, the putting in place of that infrastructure, and the first steps in carrying the plan out. Reaching the end of the tunnel would be nice but at this point, it is important to determine that we are on the right track. 

In its first two years, the Dellums administration has put in place significant reforms in the police department, including moving to geographic division of the command and implementation structure, strengthening the ability of the chief to manage the department, and bringing the department up to its full authorized strength. Are these good reforms, and can they be expected to lead us in the direction of a safer city? Those are the questions to be asked. Meanwhile, the administration has one inherited police scandal on its hands to clean up-the aftermath of the “Oakland Rider” lawsuit and settlement—as well as a new one developed under its watch—the fallout from the Chauncey Bailey murder and the Your Black Muslim Bakery raid. There is the continuing problem—continued over from the Brown administration—of the charge of indiscriminate targeting of African-American and Latino youth by Oakland police, which raises the broader issue of how well the Dellums administration is managing the balance of police-oriented public safety with the protection of citizen rights. And, finally, there are the Dellums initiatives in the area of non-police crime and violence prevention, the social programs aimed at the causes of the problem. Are these the right initiatives, how seriously are they being worked on, how well are they working? These are all factors which ought to be included in the mix when formulating a judgment of the Dellums administration. 

And that is only in the area of public safety. 

The final question that ought to be posed is how poised is Mr. Dellums for a possible run for re-election? For me, that’s another easy answer. The mayor is well-poised, if running for re-election is what he chooses to do. 

Late in October, USA News released a poll which showed dismal numbers for the mayor. Mr. Dellums’ approval ratings were listed at 27 percent, his disapproval ratings at 55 percent. The mayor was not doing well in what ought to be one of his twin bases—the African-American community, where his approval-disapproval numbers were polled at 37-49. Mr. Dellums’ other political base—listed in the poll as “liberal” but which we will interpret as people who usually define themselves as “progressive”—where the numbers at bottom at 27-57 approval-disapproval. 

But even if the polling numbers are accurate (and they are often skewed), they reflect what can reasonably be expected to be the low point in the mayor’s popularity, with two years spent largely out of the public eye, with the results of his administrative and political reforms not yet made manifest, under relentless critical attack in several areas of the major media and the blogsphere to which his administration has largely offered a weak—and often inept—response.  

Given Mr. Dellums’ enormous political abilities as well as the large reserve of unpolled but easily observed support that exists for the mayor throughout Oakland, I would not put much faith that those polling numbers are automatically going to remain so dismal for the mayor. But this is not intended to be the conclusion of an analysis of the mayor’s administration, only the middle. And so we will leave the vast bulk of this to be chewed over, ongoing. Just wanted to give you something different to think about.


Wild Neighbors: A Wren in the Room

By Joe Eaton
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 07:13:00 PM

I walked into my living room last Saturday morning and found a Bewick’s wren perched on the back of the armchair.  

I knew this bird, or at least its family. We’ve been hearing a wren sing in the vicinity of the house for about the last five years, and seeing it—wrens being furtive skulkers—on rare occasions. The song is loud and energetic, and I have a mental block about it; it always takes a while before I think “Oh, right, Bewick’s wren.”  

We don’t know if it’s been the same wren all along (according to AnAge, the Animal Ageing and Longevity Database, Bewick’s wrens may live to be eight years old, a surprising lifespan for such a small bird) or a succession of wrens handing down the territory from father to son. We don’t know if it has ever found a mate or raised a brood. We just know that it’s out there. 

Except now it was in here, watching me from the back of the chair. Ron, who usually deals with birds in the house, was unavailable. Every marriage has its division of labor. I take out the garbage; she takes out the wildlife. Most often she has dealt with Anna’s hummingbirds, which chase each other into the house and sometimes get trapped in the curtains. The one California towhee that found its way in also found its own way out, with the help of its mate who had been making contact calls outside the open bathroom window. But I was on my own with this one. 

Matt the cat, just as well, was also absent. If Matt catches birds, he’s extremely discreet about it. He does point them, though. We’ll be hearing this repeated “tick tick tick” noise, trying to figure out if the smoke detector needs a new battery, and Matt will be staring at the curtain where the hummingbird is. He’s also done that with rodents, and with a suicidal fish that leaped out of the aquarium. I’ll never entirely trust him with birds, but his behavior has given no cause for complaint. 

At least I wouldn’t have to fend off an interested cat while coping with the wren, which had now moved to a windowsill and was fluttering against the closed window. That was what I had been afraid of-the possibility that it would hit the window hard enough to stun or injure itself. So I went for the butterfly net. 

The net hasn’t been used against an actual butterfly for years, but it’s handy for out-of-place birds. We used to use it to retrieve a budgerigar that was not quite finger-trained. I made a couple of swipes at the wren, but it ducked down among the tchotchkes on the windowsill. Not good. At one point it flew up and perched on the rim of the net. Great, I thought, just hold that pose and I’ll carry you out to the porch. Then it flew back to the window. 

I reflected that my late mother would have hated this situation. A childhood attack by a hen that wouldn’t give up her eggs left her (my mother, not the hen) with a deep-seated fear of birds. This probably makes it psychologically interesting that I became a birder, but I have worse things to worry about.  

She would always call bird-owning friends before visiting to make sure the budgie or canary was caged. Once a small flock of chimney swifts burst out of our fireplace in Little Rock, and she freaked out, as did the Siamese cat, who was a high-strung animal even for his breed. Walk-through aviaries were not her favorite places, and I can imagine her reaction to having rainbow lorikeets perch on her head. 

Meanwhile, the net was not working for me. In desperation I made a two-handed grab for the wren, trying to be as gentle as possible. And I got it. It gave a dismayed squawk—the first thing out of its mouth. The bird was almost weightless (about a third of an ounce, says the Sibley Guide.) 

Out to the front porch, quickly. I opened my hands and the wren flew out of them, into the Hollywood juniper. We haven’t seen or heard it since. Since I value it as a neighbor, I hope it wasn’t upset enough to relocate.  

In parts of the British Isles, hunting the wren (that would be what Americans call the winter wren, not the Bewick’s) on St. Stephen’s Day—Dec. 26—is an ancient tradition. One version turns the quarry into a hulking creature that has to be dispatched with a cannon, hauled home by a team of oxen, and cooked in a great black cauldron. Sounds like a lot of work. Better to let the wren come to you. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


About the House: Slavery Lite

By Matt Cantor
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 07:12:00 PM

I recently received a letter from a reader (Let’s call him PR) about his experiences with a local contractor and his illegal help. His concern, which is to be commended, is in regards to the pay and working conditions afforded his helper, whom he pseudonymously called Gem (presumably his feelings about the worker, which he effused copiously in a letter which is too long to include herein). 

Gem was left on site to do most of the work, according to PR and was being paid “pennies above minimum wage.” Current California minimum wage is set at $8 an hour and is almost $10 in San Francisco, which, like many jurisdictions, can set their own amount as long as it’s above the U.S. level of $6.55 (due to increase to $7.25 next July). 

Actually, according to PR, Gem is not in this country legally and, should officials become involved, would probably be deported. This raises serious questions about the legal pay requirements of the individual that I cannot answer. What I can say is that contractors, licensed or otherwise (according to PR, the “contractor” is not licensed), like all employers (short term or longer) are required to withhold tax and to file certain employment documents for all workers who are not simply “day labor.” Day labor designations are designed to cover up to several hundred dollars to one person in the course of a year and are capped to prevent this designation from being used for other than very short-term employment. 

One of the requirements for contractors of many kinds is Workman’s Compensation and, again, an illegal alien has no rights that I am aware of to collect from this fund. Further, most illegals would rather receive their fully untaxed wages and have no withholdings at all, preferring to fly under the radar. 

These circumstances mean that many day laborers get hurt and have no recourse. There are also many deaths each year that go uncompensated as a result. 

This conspiracy, of sorts, puts everyone at risk but has become the common specie of the trades. My friend Harold, a brilliant and hardworking ecologist, landscaper and philosopher, aptly calls this whole constellation of issues “Slavery Lite.” 

The contractor, according to PR (I keep saying this because it’s all second hand and much of what he has surmised is unverified, making the depth of the well of untruth hard to plumb), is making “upwards of 50 percent” of Gem’s wages. So, perhaps we’re talking about $15 an hour being charged for the worker. While this may seem grossly unfair, I have trouble arriving at that conclusion based on wage distribution alone.  

As a recovering contractor and one who worked with fully taxed as well as casual labor over the years, I can tell you that by the time you finish paying all your bills, it’s very hard to have made any money at all if you don’t charge the client substantially beyond the laborer’s wage. The number of items that go into this calculation is often beyond the awareness of all but the best contractors but trust me when I say it’s true. It’s the same as our home budgets and some of us, on our grouchier days might term it the death by a thousand cuts. That said, one would need to take a very close look at the workings of the contractor’s operation to ascertain the level of misfeasance. 

If you are actually paying only $15 an hour (or close to it), you’re getting a bargain (albeit a bargain with the devil since you’re also de facto hiring an illegal, as well as working with an unlicensed contractor). 

If the contractor were to charge an additional $3-4 per hour over Gem’s wages, I can be sure that within a few accounting cycles he would find that he was losing money so this shouldn’t be your focus. Furthermore, to assume that Gem sans the contractor could provide you with the same end product may be false.  

However unscrupulous the contractor may be, they may be bringing many things to the table, including the right tools, transportation, planning, knowledge, training for the worker, knowing what to buy and actually doing it. Knowing what they can and cannot do according to codes and other local rules is another thing the contractor may bring to the workbench. 

I don’t know the skill level of your contractor or of Gem but it is common for leadership to provide much to make themselves essential. 

Gem claimed to have been kept, for most of a year, in “quasi-bondage” (obviously PR’s terminology) through a “combination of vague inducements, threats, and by partial and delayed payments in “installments” for his labor.” True or not, in this case, it is a sad reality for some of our national day labor force. 

Now, there’s a lot of hearsay on which to attempt to base an opinion here, but even assuming that this laborer is giving a fair representation of his circumstances, one wonders why Gem would stay with this contractor for the better part of a year, as has been claimed. While many illegals are hungry to work as much as possible, there is a very active marketplace for hardworking, capable day laborers and, were he to feel threatened, he could certainly head back to the street to get picked up at any one of the many “slavery lite” venues readily visible within a block of so many of our local lumber yards (it’s a wonder that the INS doesn’t have offices across the street from every Home Depot). 

PR, by participating in hiring either Gem or the contractor, you are participating in the propagation of these circumstances. If you want to help Gem become legal, that would be great but it won’t be easy. There are also about 12 million Gems out there (57 percent being Mexican according to the Pew Hispanic Center). Write your congressperson and demand fair employment and basic services for everyone here illegally OR demand that the U.S. and Mexico establish basic human rights and minimum wages on both sides of the border.  

Then, all the Gems will be able to choose what circumstances they want to work under and can more easily leave an abusive situation. NAFTA has been very good for big business but not very good for the hombre on the street, as you can see. 

I’ll climb down from the soap-box for a minute to address a last issue brought forth by PR, that being a matter of undisclosed mark-up. Marking up materials within reason and by agreement is perfectly fine. In fact, if the contractor gets a discount at the store, that’s his to pocket and is not required to share it. If the contractor is charging for things he didn’t buy or marking up beyond the price you would pay at the store, he needs to tell you. If he didn’t, I would bring it up in a non-hostile manner and see if you can get the money back. 

Frankly, I am more concerned that you are not getting minimally acceptable construction performed than that you may be overpaying. The latter seems unlikely and I very much doubt that this contractor (if we may stretch the fabric of reality to call him such) is making a lot of money. 

I don’t blame PR for trying to save money or for wanting to go to bat for an illegal laborer off the street. I am concerned, though, that there are legal, licensed contractors employing legal, insured, tax-paying workers who are displaced through this process.  

These latter ones cost more and come with substantially more accountability for PR, who is concerned about his recourse with Gem’s employer (there is very little and if he calls the IRS (another of his questions), he may be in trouble for having illegals working for him, despite the contractor’s involvement. Additionally, working with an unlicensed contractor may mean that if someone gets hurt, he may get sued as the nearby deep pocket. 

Don’t get me wrong. I’m certainly not finding fault with PR. There are many among us who have made all these same choices. Certainly, I think we’re dealing with a contractor who should be forced to hire legal people at a living wage, protect them with insurance and withhold taxes. It’s too bad.  

Most people have no idea how widespread this is. If you want some idea, park where you can watch the labor pool on the street some morning and watch the trucks pick up men for a few hours. It’s a sizeable percentage of the work in every major city. 

To PR, here’s my suggestion. Don’t hire the contractor again. Hire a licensed, well-reputed one who comes with references. Say goodbye to any money you think you may have overpaid and, as my mother would say, don’t send any more good after the bad. Have Gem over to dinner and find out his situation. See if you can help him without hiring him illegally. Talk to the INS about how to help someone get a green card and seek work in the U.S., naming no names, of course. You wouldn’t want them digging up your Gem. 


Arts & Events

Arts Calendar

Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:40:00 AM

TUESDAY, DEC. 23 

CHILDREN 

The Blue Fairy Storyteller for 3-7 year olds at 10:30 a.m. at West Branch of the Berkeley Public Library, 1125 University Ave. 981-6270. 

Chin-Chin for 5 year olds and up at 2:30 p.m. at Berkeley Public Library, 2090 Kittredge St. 981-6223. 

MUSIC AND DANCE 

Oakland Ballet Company “Ron Guidi’s Nutcracker” at 2 p.m. at Paramount Theater, 2025 Broadway, Oakland. Tickets are $15-$50. www.ticketmaster.com 

Zydeco Flames at 8:30 p.m. at Ashkenaz. Cajun dance lesson at 8 p.m. Cost is $10. 525-5054. www.ashkenaz.com 

WEDNESDAY, DEC. 24 

MUSIC AND DANCE 

Oakland Ballet Company “Ron Guidi’s Nutcracker” at 2 p.m. at Paramount Theater, 2025 Broadway, Oakland. Tickets are $15-$50. www.ticketmaster.com 

Natasha Miller’s Christmas Eve Concert at 8 p.m. at Yoshi’s at Jack London Square. Cost is $16. 238-9200.  

THURSDAY, DEC. 25 

MERRY CHRISTMAS 

FRIDAY, DEC. 26 

THEATER 

Berkeley Rep “Ennio” comedy and mime for the whole family at 2 and 8p.m. at the Roda Theater, 2015 Addison St, through Dec. 31. Tickets are $20-$45. 647-2949. berkeleyrep.org 

Berkeley Rep “The Arabian Nights” Tues.-Sun. at the Thrust Stage, 2025 Addison St., through Jan. 4. Tickets are $27-$71. 647-2949. berkeleyrep.org 

Paul Mooney “Black Man in the White House” comedy, through Dec. 31 at Black Repertory Theater, 3201 Adeline St. Tickets are $25-$100. 652-2120. 

FILM 

Movie Classics “Mary Poppins” the 1964 film starring Julie Andrews at 8 p.m. at Paramount Theater, 2025 Broadway, Oakland. Tickets are $5. 625-8497. 

MUSIC AND DANCE 

Danny Caron Trio at 8 p.m. at Anna’s Jazz Island, 2120 Allston Way. Cost is $12. 841-JAZZ.  

We A Dem, Messenjah Selah, Luv Fyah, Reggae Boxing Day celebration at 9:30 p.m. at Ashkenaz. Cost is $10. 525-5054. www.ashkenaz.com 

The Cavepainters at 9:30 p.m. at The Starry Plough. Free. 841-2082.  

The P-PL at 10 p.m. at Beckett’s Irish Pub, 2271 Shattuck Ave. 647-1790.  

Patrick Wolff Trio at 8 p.m. at Jupiter. 843-8277. 

Roy Hargrove Big Band at 8 and 10 p.m. at Yoshi’s at Jack London Square, through Wed. Cost is $18-$28, Dec. 31 $100. 238-9200. www.yoshis.com 

SATURDAY, DEC. 27 

MUSIC AND DANCE 

String Circle with special guest Ian Swenson “There were Shepherds, abiding in the Fields” at 8 p.m. at Trinity Chapel, 2320 Dana St. Tickets are $8-$12. 549-3864.  

Dangerous Rhythm with Tim Fox at 9:30 p.m. at Albatross, 1822 San Pablo Ave. Cost is $3. 843-2473.  

Macy Blackman & The Mighty Fines at 8 p.m. at Anna’s Jazz Island, 2120 Allston Way. Cost is $14. 841-JAZZ.  

MC Zion, Jack Sprat Collective, hip hop and funk, at 8:30 p.m. at Ashkenaz. Cost is $13. 525-5054. www.ashkenaz.com  

David Grisman Bluegrass Experience at 5 and 8 p.m. at Freight and Salvage. Cost is $34.50-$35.50. 548-1761.  

2ME, CD release party, at 10 p.m. at Beckett’s Irish Pub, 2271 Shattuck Ave. 647-1790.  

Lost Cats, with Jim Passard at 8 p.m. at Spuds Pizza, 3290 Adeline St. Cost is $7-$10. 558-0881. 

Stymie and the Pimp Jones Luv Orchestra, The Funkanauts at 9:30 p.m. at The Starry Plough. Cost is $10. 841-2082.  

Roy Hargrove Big Band at 8 and 10 p.m. at Yoshi’s at Jack London Square, through Wed. Cost is $18-$28, Dec. 31 $100. 238-9200. www.yoshis.com 

SUNDAY, DEC. 28 

THEATER 

“The Big Fat Year End Kiss Off Comedy Show XVI” with Will Durst, Johnny Steele, Steven Kravitz, Debi Durst and others at 7 p.m. at Julia Morgan Center for the Arts, 2640 College Ave. Tickets are $15-$20. brownpapertickets.com 

MUSIC AND DANCE 

Mike Marshall & Catrina Lichtenberg at 8 p.m. at Freight and Salvage. Cost is $20.50-$21.50. 548-1761. www.freightandsalvage.org 

Val Mih Quartet, with special guest Eddie Gale, at 8 p.m. at Anna’s Jazz Island, 2120 Allston Way. Cost is $14. 841-JAZZ. www.AnnasJazzIsland.com 

Flamenco Family Fiesta at 7:30 p.m. at Ashkenaz. Cost is $10. 525-5054.  

MONDAY, DEC. 29 

READINGS AND LECTURES 

Poetry Express “Between the Holidays Erotic Poetry Night” at 7 p.m. at Priya Restaurant, 2072 San Pablo Ave. 644-3977. 

MUSIC AND DANCE 

Roy Hargrove Big Band at 8 and 10 p.m. at Yoshi’s at Jack London Square, through Wed. Cost is $18-$28, Dec. 31 $100. 238-9200. www.yoshis.com 

TUESDAY, DEC. 30 

MUSIC AND DANCE 

Singing For Your Life with members of SoVoSó and special guests, from noon to midnight at First Congregational Church of Oakland, 2501 Harrison St., at 27th. Suggested donation $10 and up, benefits Arts First Oakland. 444-8511, ext. 15.  

Tee Fee Swamp Boogie at 8:30 p.m. at Ashkenaz. Cajun dance lesson at 8 p.m. Cost is $10. 525-5054.  

WEDNESDAY, DEC. 31 

MUSIC AND DANCE 

San Francisco Chamber Orchestra “Leading Ladies” with Amanda King, vocalist, Robin Sharp, violinist, and Gwen Mok, pianist, at 8 p.m. at First Congregational Church, 2345 Channing Way. Free. 415-248-1640.  

Bobi Cespedes & Her Quintet at 7 and 10 p.m. at Anna’s Jazz Island, 2120 Allston Way. Cost is tba. 841-JAZZ.  

High Country, Dix Bruce & Jim Nunally at 8 p.m. at Freight and Salvage. Cost is $26.50-$27.50. 548-1761.  

Orquesta La Moderna Tradición, Cuban dance music, at 9:30 p.m. at La Peña Cultural Center. Cost is $25-$28. 849-2568.  

Balkan Bash with Edessa, Brass Menageri, Joe Finn & Friends, at 8 p.m. at Ashkenaz. Cost is $20. 525-5054. www.ashkenaz.com 

The 2008 Beatdown, hosted by The Mundaze, at 10 p.m. at Beckett’s Irish Pub, 2271 Shattuck Ave. 647-1790.  

Chuck Prophet, Aiden Hawken at 9:45 p.m. at The Starry Plough. Cost is $25-$30. 841-2082.  

Code Name: Jonah at 9 p.m. at Jupiter. 843-8277. 

Roy Hargrove Big Band at 9 p.m. at Yoshi’s at Jack London Square, through Wed. Cost is $100. 238-9200.  

THURSDAY, JAN. 1 

MUSIC AND DANCE 

The Adrian Gormley Jazz Ensemble at 10 p.m. at Beckett’s Irish Pub, 2271 Shattuck Ave. 647-1790.  

FRIDAY, JAN. 2 

THEATER 

Berkeley Rep “The Arabian Nights” Tues.-Sun. at the Thrust Stage, 2025 Addison St., through Jan. 4. Tickets are $27-$71. 647-2949. berkeleyrep.org 

Shotgun Players “Macbeth” Thurs.-Sat. at 8 p.m., Sun. at 5 p.m. at The Ashby Stage, 1901 Ashby Ave., through Feb. 1. Tickets are $18-$30. 841-6500.  

EXHIBITIONS 

“Art of Democracy” Opening reception at 6 p.m. at Red Door Gallery, 416 26th St., Oakland. www.artofdemocracy.org 

MUSIC AND DANCE 

Lakay, Alexa Weber Morales Band, reggae, caribbean, and Haitain, at 9 p.m. at Ashkenaz. Cost is $10-$13. 525-5054.  

Jarl & Coe, Whitney Gardner at 7:30 p.m. at Nomad Cafe, 6500 Shattuck Ave. 595-5344.  

Kitchen Fire, The Golddiggers at 9:30 p.m. at The Starry Plough. Cost is $7. 841-2082.  

Pharoah Sanders at 8 and 10 p.m. at Yoshi’s at Jack London Square, through Sun. Cost is $28. 238-9200.  

SATURDAY, JAN. 3 

CHILDREN  

Los Amiguitos de La Peña with Paul Silveria at 10:30 a.m. at La Peña. Cost is $5 for adults, $4 for children. 849-2568.  

Kirk Waller, storyteller, Sat. and Sun. at 1:30 and 2:30 p.m. at Children’s Fairyland, 699 Bellevue Ave., Oakland. Cost is $6. 452-2259.  

Children’s Stories, readings and activity for ages 2-5, at 1 p.m. at Museum of Children’s Art, 538 Ninth St., Suite 210, Oakland. Cost is $7. 456-8770.  

READINGS AND LECTURES 

Celebration of the Cuban Revolution with Saul Landau at 7:30 p.m. at La Peña Cultural Center. Cost is $10. 849-2568.  

Bay Area Poets Coalition open reading from 3 to 5 pm. at Strawberry Creek Lodge, 1320 Addison St. 527-9905. 

MUSIC AND DANCE 

Breakin’ Up Xmas Square Dance with The Stairwell Sisters at 8 p.m. at Ashkenaz. Cost is $12-$15. 525-5054.  

Saturday Afternoon Gallery Acoustic music open mic series at 2 p.m. at the Frank Bette Center for the Arts, 1601 Paru St., Alameda. 931-7646. 

Wilson Wong, Katherine Peck at 7:30 p.m. at Nomad Cafe, 6500 Shattuck Ave. 595-5344. 

Brama Sukarma and his quartet at 8 p.m. at the Jazzschool. Cost is $10. 845-5373. 

Montana Slim, The Jugtown Pirates at 9 p.m. at The Starry Plough. Cost is $8. 841-2082.  

Lorijo Manly, folk, at 8 p.m. at Spuds Pizza, 3290 Adeline St. Cost is $7-$10. 558-0881. 

Pharoah Sanders at 8 and 10 p.m. at Yoshi’s at Jack London Square, through Sun. Cost is $28. 238-9200.  

SUNDAY, JAN. 4 

CHILDREN 

Nigerian Brothers at Ashkenaz at 3 p.m. Cost is $4-$6. 525-5054. www.ashkenaz.com 

EXHIBITIONS 

“L.A. Paint” Tour of the exhibition at 2 p.m. at Oakland Museum of California, 10th and Oak sts., Oakland. Cost is $5-$8. 238-2200. www.museumca.org 

FILM 

African Diaspora Film Society “February One” the story of the 1960 Greensboro lunch counter sit-in, at 2 p.m. at Parkway Theater, 1834 Park Blvd., Oakland. Cost is $5. 814-2400. 

Celebration of the Cuban Revolution Film screenings and discussion at 7 p.m. at La Peña. Cost is $8, no one turned away. 849-2568. www.lapena.org 

MUSIC AND DANCE 

Redwing at 11 a.m. at Nomad Cafe, 6500 Shattuck Ave. 595-5344. www.nomadcafe.net 

Community Roots, a community empowerment celebration with Aima the Dreamer, Seasunz, and others at 8:30 p.m. at Ashkenaz. Cost is $9-$15. 525-5054. www.ashkenaz.com 

George Garzone and the East Coast Jazz Jam Band at 4:30 p.m. at the Jazzschool. Cost is $18. 845-5373. www.jazzschool.com 

MONDAY, JAN. 5 

READINGS AND LECTURES 

Michael Chabon in Conversation with John Carroll at 7 p.m. at Berkeley Rep, 2025 Addison St. Tickets are $25. Benefit for Park Day School. 653-0317, ext. 103. 

TUESDAY, JAN. 6 

FILM 

“The Power of Myth in Movies” with Richard Stromer at 7:30 p.m. at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Berkeley, 1 Lawson Rd., Kensington. Cost is $40. 525-0302, ext. 306. 

MUSIC AND DANCE 

Andrew Carierre & The Zydeco and Cajun Allstars at 8:30 p.m. at Ashkenaz. Cajun dance lesson at 8 p.m. Cost is $10. 525-5054.  

Singers’ Open Mic with Ellen Hoffman at 8 p.m. at Anna’s Jazz Island, 2120 Allston Way. Cost is $5. 841-JAZZ.  

WEDNESDAY, JAN. 7 

FILM 

“Last Chance for Eden” on the impact of racism and sexism, at 7:30 p.m. at La Peña Cultural Center. Cost is $5. 849-2568. 

READINGS AND LECTURES 

Berkeley Poetry Slam with host Charles Ellik and Three Blind Mice, at 8 p.m. at The Starry Plough. Cost is $7. 841-2082.  

MUSIC AND DANCE 

Vince Ho, organ music of Matthew Locke at 12:30 p.m. at St. Alban’s Episcopal Church, 1501 Washington Ave., Albany. 525-1716. 

Brian Melvin Trio with Brad Buethe at 8 p.m. at Anna’s Jazz Island. Cost is $8. 841-JAZZ.  

Whiskey Brothers, old-time and bluegrass at 9 p.m. at Albatross Pub. 843-2473.  

Wild Women of the Accordion at 8:30 p.m. at Ashkenaz. Cost is $10. 525-5054.  

Pellejo Seco at 8 and 10 p.m. at Yoshi’s at Jack London Square. Cost is $12. 238-9200.  

THURSDAY, JAN. 8 

THEATER 

Shotgun Players “Beowulf: A Thousand Years of Baggage” at 8 p.m. at The Roda Theater, 2025 Addison St. Tickets are $30, includes a party after the show. Advance reservations strongly advised. 841-6500. 

READINGS AND LECTURES 

Elisabeth Payne Rosen discusses her new Civil War novel “Hallam’s War” at 1 p.m. at Oakland Museum of California, 10th and Oak sts., Oakland. 238-2200. 

MUSIC AND DANCE 

Open Decks, Grateful Dead night, at 9 p.m. at Ashkenaz. Cost is $6. 525-5054.  

Peter Rowan Bluegrass Band at 8 p.m. at Freight and Salvage. Cost is $20.50-$21.50. 548-1761.  

Kelly Park & Friends at 8 p.m. at Anna’s Jazz Island. Cost is $10. 841-JAZZ.  

Seconds on End, Tistrya at 9 p.m. at The Starry Plough. Cost is $7. 841-2082. 

Brwn Bflo, hip hop, at 8 p.m. at La Peña Cultural Center. Cost is $5. 849-2568.  

The Dave G Experience at 10 p.m. at Beckett’s Irish Pub, 2271 Shattuck Ave. 647-1790.  

Airto Moreira with Zakir Hussain at 8 and 10 p.m. at Yoshi’s at Jack London Square. Cost is $20. 238-9200. 

 

 


Chabon, Carroll Meet to Benefit Park Day

By Ken Bullock
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:00:00 AM
Michael Chabon
Michael Chabon

Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist and Berkeley resident Michael Chabon will join San Francisco Chronicle columnist Jon Carroll, “an East Bay local,” for an evening of conversation to benefit the academic and financial aid programs at Park Day School in North Oakland, 7 p.m. on Monday, Jan. 5 at Berkeley Rep.  

Chabon’s three children are in their first year at Park Day School.  

“And that’s combined with a longstanding admiration—and a fondness, even though I don’t know him that well—for Mr. Carroll,” Chabon said. “He’s a grandparent of a Park Day student with a history of strong involvement with the school. As a new parent, I wanted to show Jon Carroll how much it means to me, too—how much to both of us. 

“Park Day School’s on a great historical site,” Chabon continued, “very much integrated in the fabric of Oakland: a former orphanage, and an old age home for women were both here. The school has quite a progressive educational system, incorporating recent research, and is very open in trying new approaches. It’s the kind of place you always think about in terms of the Bay Area, asking if there are better ways of doing things, yet holding onto fundamental academic studies. They teach children to respect themselves and other people.  

“Everything is a balancing act in life, especially when it comes  

to kids: discipline and freedom, academic work and social life. Park Day School has that flexibility, and the awareness that, for anything, you might be wrong. That kind of openness.” 

Chabon has lived in Berkeley “this time since 1997; before, briefly, in 1985”—but regards himself as a California resident since 1985.  

Asked about his observations of the area in that time, he mentioned: “Overall, in American society at large, there’s that movement from the cities to the suburbs and towards greater homogeneity—powerful, unstoppable. If you dropped down from an airplane in most places, you wouldn’t know where you are. Places I remember, like Pittsburgh, Penn., where I grew up, lived for a long time, the funky, bohemian sections have disappeared. Big box stores—Banana Republic, Ann Taylor, The Gap—replace everything. 

“Berkeley is unusually resistant to these powerful forces. You still see so much diversity here, of every kind—religious, racial, sexual, diversity in age ... also retail diversity: mom and pop stores and start-ups. Only in Berkeley. It’s like a pocket universe. 

“You travel around and say you’re from Berkeley, and people  

say, ‘Oh, I know what that is!’ And a lot of that’s still around; a lot of the same people are still around.” 

Asked about what he’s working on, Chabon said he’s writing a novel “set here, in Berkeley and Oakland. I’ve been thinking a lot about the things we’ve been talking about. This one is definitely informed by my deep love of genre, though not as explicitly as some of my other work.” 

And in answer to a query about the progress of a film project announced last February by the Coen Brothers, of his Hugo, Nebula and Sidewise award-winning novel, The Yiddish Policeman's Union (2007), Chabon relied, “They keep very busy. A movie just came out, and they’ve finished another one. I’ve heard they’re going to start on the script. I’m just in the same position everybody who loves the Coen Bros. is in—waiting for their next film.” 

The program at the Berkeley Repertory Theatre, 2025 Addison St., will follow a cheese and no-host wine reception at 6 p.m. Tickets: $25; call 653-0317 x.103 or see www.ParkDaySchool.org 

 


Book Review: A People’s History of Australia

By Estelle Jelinek
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:22:00 AM

Don’t waste your money on the romantic-epic film Australia, but rush out and buy Berkeley writer Celeste Lipow MacLeod’s Multiethnic Australia. Conn Hallinan has written in these pages of the country’s increasing cooperation with the United States, from sending troops to Iraq, allowing the U.S. to build a military base on Australia’s west coast, and agreeing to let the country become the world’s nuclear waste dump with its reward: joining a nuclear-technology information clearing house. 

International politics is not the focus of this history of Australia. What is is the country’s extraordinary accomplishment of peacefully integrating dozens of disparate cultures despite its predominantly Anglo-Saxon culture. Like MacLeod’s previous book, Horatio Alger Farewell, this one finds her interested in working people’s struggles to cope with or co-opt the power elite. 

Multiethnic Australia could easily have been called, a la Howard Zinn, A People’s History of Australia. It’s an amazing story of how the country consciously nurtured each newcomer’s customs and language, six million of them in a land with 20 million people, arriving since 1947, along with a slower recognition and support of the indigenous Aborigines. And it all happened peacefully—with no rioting—because the country devised practical services to help the new arrivals retain their cultural traditions while becoming loyal Australians. 

Little known abroad is the country’s progressive social heritage, with its original prisoners, finding themselves in a spacious land with a labor shortage, joining forces with poor immigrants and turning the country into a “fair go” society. They organized trade unions and then formed a political party geared to their own needs. By the end of the 19th century, labor had emerged as a political force in Australia. MacLeod writes, “Unlike the United States, where self-made millionaires were cheered and worshipped, in Australia they were seen as traitors to their class.” Australia was also an innovator in women’s suffrage, women getting the vote as early as 1902. 

You may recognize prominent names like diva Joan Southerland, film director Peter Weir, writer Christina Stead; novelist Patrick White, the only Australian so far to win the Nobel Prize in literature; and Miles Franklin (My Brilliant Career), but there’s much more to Australia. Founded as a British penal colony, defining itself as a satellite of the British Empire, during the 19th century it restricted immigration in what was known as the “White Australia” policy. When the Australian colonies became a federation of states in 1901, one of the new government’s first acts was to pass a law aimed at keeping out people of color. At that time, working people and their unions were strong supporters of the policy. 

But after World War II, the country came increasingly to identify with its neighbors in the Pacific Rim, and in 1960 the old protection legislation was dismantled in every state, and even indigenous people became citizens, making them eligible for the same social service benefits as other Australians. In 1962 they were given the vote, and their numbers keep growing because of better living conditions and health care. 

Multiculturalism gradually took on the meaning of replacing assimilation with a policy that validated diversity. The policy of cultural pluralism received bipartisan support, not because of a need for migrant labor (by the mid-’70s there were labor surpluses) but because the old White Australia policy had become a political embarrassment and an economic liability for a country at the edge of Southeast Asia. 

Politically savvy readers may know the names of prime ministers like Robert Gordon Menzies, who in the late ’30s identified more with Britain and its empire than his own country or its Asian neighbors. When the Labor Party won the national election in 1973, Prime Minister Gough Whitlam was determined to reverse support for White Australia, to reduce the British connection, and to oppose racist ideas and practices, launching a series of sweeping reforms. Racially selected sports teams were banned from entering Australia. Equal pay for women was introduced. Wages, pensions, and unemployment benefits rose. A national health service was established, open to all. But he tried to change things too quickly and was dismissed, which reinvigorated the desire to make Australia a republic. Prime Minister John Howard, leader of the Opposition Liberal (sic) Party, was opposed to multiculturalism and worked hard to save the constitutional monarchy. In 1999 a referendum to become a republic was defeated 55 percent to 45 percent. Queen Elizabeth still remains the country’s head of state. 

MacLeod believes that Australia will remain a predominantly Anglo-Celtic-Irish country into the foreseeable future, and Asian nations will not accept Australia fully as part of the region as long as its official head of state is the monarch of a Western nation. But there may be some hope. With Labor Party Prime Minister Kevin Rudd, elected in 2007, who is opposed to the Iraq war and supports multiculturalism, Australia may have an even better future. 

MULTIETHNIC AUTRALIA: 

ITS HISTORY AND FUTURE 

By Celeste Lipow MacLeod. 226 pages. N.C.: McFarland. 


Reflections on Holiday Music

By Ken Bullock
Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:40:00 AM

Holiday music, usually canned, has become the audible public hallmark of the season, with all the homogenized commercialism this time of year.  

Here are a few off-the-cuff reflections by some local people in the music business on holiday sounds, good and bad: 

• Daniell Revenaugh, concert pianist and founder of the Busoni Society: 

“A holiday concert in a church, with holiday colors, or singing carols at home, which people did up until World War II, is fine. But I abhor the way it starts right after Halloween now. Its omnipresence becomes annoying. The tunes become parodies of themselves; it degrades the concept of Christmas—and certainly degrades the appreciation of music.  

“The way it blares out in stores, like over a loudspeaker, is ridiculous. It would be interesting to follow a given person through the course of their day this time of year and see how many times they listen to a particular carol—and whether it reminds them of memories of their childhood, or if they’re just gradually desensitized? That is, unless you find someone who likes hearing ‘Silent Night’ in the elevator of the Bel Air Sands Hotel at two in the morning after parking your car in the garage, as once happened to me.  

Music should be elevating, not elevator-ing! Going into my local 7/11 to see if I’ve won the lottery, then flee, I’m subject to an electric eye that plays the first five notes of Mozart’s Symphony in G minor, with no resolution. It’s debilitating to the victim of it—and suppose you had to work in that store? We’re stuck with so many things anyway, why do we have to be stuck with somebody’s idea of music? I don’t mind the Salvation Army bell, but I don’t want the guy to sing! Anyway, after the oral surgeon quoted his price, my favorite holiday song this year is ‘All I Want for Christmas Are My Two Front Teeth’!”  

• Charles Amirkhanian, founder of Other Minds new music series and former KPFA programmer:  

“I was young when LPs first came out, and some re-releases have made me realize how very taken I’ve been with performances and arrangements of what’s not the conventional Christmas music ... things from RCA, Robert Shaw chorales, obscure hymns ... and Spanish music, and other nationalities on Musical Heritage ... there’s so much more than ‘Deck the Halls.’ We forget what a rich variety of music’s been written around the season. The Christmas Cantata of Honnegger’s, a not very well-known collage of carols, with full orchestra and choruses ... Oh—and that piece done by The Residents I used to play on KPFA on seven-inch 45, ‘Santa Dog,’ with the words ‘Santa Dog’s a Jesus Freak’ over and over!” 

• David Parr, director of the Christmas Revels at the Oakland Scottish Rites Theater:  

“Carols like ‘The 12 Days of Christmas’ or our Mummer’s Song—like Father Christmas at the end of the Mummer’s Play—‘May there be a pig in your poke/May there be a pudding in your pot’ kind of thing, don’t exactly mean what they might sound like today, an incitement to shopping, but reflect an appreciation and awareness of the bounty of the world around us--a truly festive holiday spirit!” 

• Ronn Guidi, founder of the Oakland Ballet Company and the Ronn Guidi Foundation:  

“What surprised me a few years ago was finding out that Adolphe Adam, the composer of Giselle [1844], that great Romantic ballet, also wrote ‘O Holy Night.’ [’Minuit, chretiens!’—1847]” 

• Michael Morgan, conductor of the Oakland East Bay Symphony and Festival Opera (after chuckling that Ronn Guidi’s remark had never occurred to him): 

“As an outside choice, the only holiday song I really like these days isn’t on the festive side at all, but more melancholy— ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,’ from Meet Me in St. Louis, written by a friend of mine, Hugh Martin, who’s 94, living in San Diego. We met through mutual friends; he’s the last one that generation of Hollywood composers alive—and makes a whole living from that one song. After this wild rollercoaster year of 2008, it’s far more appropriate a holiday song than the rest. Next year has to be better!” 

• Mz. Dee, Jazz and R&B singer:  

“What I dislike is the dang ‘Jingle Bells!’ Drives me nuts! The limited, fake, not-real drone of Christmas music. Somebody’s in the studio, shakin’ these silly bells! It’s weird. You hear it too much—then, after Christmas, it’s gone. A wave came in, then went out. We need good music—every day—to make us feel good!” 

 

 

 

 


Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:27:00 AM
A house on the 1300 block of Ashby Avenue is decked out for the holidays.
By Michael Howerton
A house on the 1300 block of Ashby Avenue is decked out for the holidays.


Community Calendar

Tuesday December 23, 2008 - 10:11:00 AM

TUESDAY, DEC. 23 

Tuesdays for the Birds Tranquil bird walks in local parklands, led by Bethany Facendini, from 7 to 9:30 a.m. Today we will visit the Marina at Lake Chabot Regional Park. Call for meeting place and if you need to borrow binoculars. 525-2233. 

Telegraph Avenue Holiday Street Fair with over 200 street artists, merchants, community groups and entertainment, from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m.between Dwight and Bancroft. 234-1013. 

Red Cross Blood Drive from noon to 5 p.m. at Gelateria Naia, 2106 Shattuck Ave. To schedule an appointment go to www.BeADonor.com  

“The Barefoot Doctors of Rural China” A documentary at 7 p.m. at Revolution Books, 2425 Channing Way. 848-1196. 

Berkeley PC Problem Solving meeting at 7 p.m. at 1145 Walnut St. at Eunice.  

Family Storytime at 7 p.m. at Kensington Library, 61 Arlington Ave. 524-3043.  

Tuesday Tilden Walkers Join a few slowpoke seniors at 9:30 a.m. in the parking lot near the Little Farm for an hour or two walk. 215-7672, 524-9992. 

End the Occupation Vigil every Tues. at noon at Oakland Federal Bldg., 1301 Clay St. www.epicalc.org 

Boffers and Board Games from 3 to 5:30 p.m. at Codornices Park, 1201 Euclid Ave. across from the Rose Garden, or 33 Revolutions Record Shop & Cafe, 10086 San Pablo Ave., El Cerrito when bad weather. Free, but parental supervision required. 526-5985 

Berkeley Camera Club meets at 7:30 p.m., at the Northbrae Community Church, 941 The Alameda.548-3991. www.berkeleycameraclub.org 

St. John’s Prime Timers meets at 9:30 a.m. at St. John’s Presbyterian Church, 2727 College Ave. We always welcome new members over 50. 845-6830. 

Sing-A-Long Group from 2 to 3 p.m. at the Albany Senior Center, 846 Masonic Ave., Albany. 524-9122. 

WEDNESDAY, DEC. 24 

Telegraph Avenue Holiday Street Fair with over 200 street artists, merchants, community groups and entertainment, from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m.between Dwight and Bancroft. 234-1013. 

Berkeley Potters Guild 38th Holiday Sale from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. at 73 Jones St. at Fourth St. www.berkeleypotters.com 

Golden Gate Birding Walk at Lake Merritt and Lakeside Park. Meet at 9:30 a.m. at the large spherical cage near Nature Center at Perkins and Bellevue. 549-2839.  

SATURDAY, DEC. 27 

Mini-Farmers in Tilden A farm exploration program, from 10 to 11:30 a.m. for ages 4-6 years, accompanied by an adult. We will explore the Little Farm, care for animals, do crafts and farm chores. Wear boots and dress to get dirty! Fee is $6-$8. Registration required. 1-888-EBPARKS. 

“Ring in the New” Make noisemakers and party hats for New Years, Sat. and Sun. from 1 to 4 p.m. at Museum of Children’s Art, 538 Ninth St., Suite 210, Oakland. Cost is $7. 456-8770. 

Close the Farm Help us close the Little Farm and tuck in the animals for the night, from 3:30 to 4:30 p.m. at Tilden Little Farm, Tilden Park. 525-2233. 

The Berkeley Lawn Bowling Club provides free instruction at 10:30 a.m. at 2270 Acton St. 841-2174.  

SUNDAY, DEC. 28 

“A Short History of Islam” A film by Karen Armstrong at 10 a.m. at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Berkeley, 1 Lawson Rd., Kensington. 525-0302, ext. 306. 

“What Would Steady State Economics Look Like?” with Sterling Bunnell at 11 a.m. at Humanist Hall, 390 27th St., Oakland. www.HumanistHall.org 

Family Restoration Day for families who care about the environment with interactive games and working in the park, from 2 to 3:30 p.m. at Tilden Nature Area, Tilden Park. Registration required. 1-888-327-2757. 

Winter Wanderland Hike Series An invigorating fast-paced hike from 10 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. This week we will visit Tilden Nature Area. Call for meeting place. Bring water, layered clothing and a snack to share. 525-2233. 

Nature Theater nature games, a movie, popcorn and cider for the whole family from 2 to 4 p.m. at Tilden Nature Center, Tilden Park. 525-2233. 

Lake Merritt Neighbors Organized for Peace Peace walk around the lake every Sun. Meet at 3 p.m. at the colonnade at the NE end of the lake. 763-8712. lmno4p.org 

Tibetan Buddhism with Sylvia Gretchen on “Healing Mind, Heart, and Spirit” at 6 p.m. at the Tibetan Nyingma Institute, 1815 Highland Pl. 809-1000. www.nyingmainstitute.com 

MONDAY, DEC. 29 

Kensington Library Book Club meets to discuss “The Reluctant Fundamentalist” by Mohsin Hamid at 7 p.m. at 61 Arlington Ave., Kensington. 524-3043. 

Red Cross Blood Drive from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. at the Albany YMCA, in the parking lot at 921 Kains Ave., Albany. To schedule an appointment go to www.BeADonor.com 

TUESDAY, DEC. 30 

Family Storytime at 7 p.m. at Kensington Library, 61 Arlington Ave. 524-3043.  

Tuesday Tilden Walkers Join a few slowpoke seniors at 9:30 a.m. in the parking lot near the Little Farm for an hour or two walk. 215-7672, 524-9992. 

End the Occupation Vigil every Tues. at noon at Oakland Federal Bldg., 1301 Clay St. www.epicalc.org 

Boffers and Board Games from 3 to 5:30 p.m. at Codornices Park, 1201 Euclid Ave. across from the Rose Garden, or 33 Revolutions Record Shop & Cafe, 10086 San Pablo Ave., El Cerrito when bad weather. Free, but parental supervision required. 526-5985. 

Berkeley Camera Club meets at 7:30 p.m., at the Northbrae Community Church, 941 The Alameda. 548-3991. www.berkeleycameraclub.org 

St. John’s Prime Timers meets at 9:30 a.m. at St. John’s Presbyterian Church, 2727 College Ave. We always welcome new members over 50. 845-6830. 

Sing-A-Long Group from 2 to 3 p.m. at the Albany Senior Center, 846 Masonic Ave., Albany. 524-9122. 

WEDNESDAY, DEC. 31 

New Year’s Eve Onboard the USS Hornet with live music, dancing, and views of the Bay Area skyline, from 8 p.m. to 1 a.m. at 707 W. Hornet Ave., Pier 3, Alameda.Tickets are $50-$98. 521-8448, ext. 282. 

Walk Berkeley for Seniors meets every Wednesday at 9:30 a.m. at the Sea Breeze Market, just west of the I-80 overpass. Everyone is welcome, wear comfortable shoes and a warm hat. 548-9840. 

Theraputic Recreation at the Berkeley Warm Pool, Wed. at 3:30 p.m. and Sat. at 10 a.m. at the Berkeley Warm Pool, 2245 Milvia St. Cost is $4-$5. Bring a towel. 632-9369. 

Berkeley Peace Walk and Vigil at the corner of Shattuck and Center. Sing for Peace at 6:30 p.m. followed by Peace Walk at 7 p.m. www.geocities. 

com/vigil4peace/vigil 

Berkeley CopWatch Drop-in office hours from 6 to 8 p.m. at 2022 Blake St. 548-0425. 

Stitch ‘n Bitch at 6:30 p.m. at Caffe Trieste, 2500 San Pablo Ave., at Dwight. 548-5198.  

THURSDAY, JAN. 1 

HAPPY NEW YEAR 

FRIDAY, JAN. 2 

Confetti Days at Habitot with a dance party and art projects for children 0-6, Fri.-Sun. at 10:30 a.m. at 2065 Kittredge St. Cost is $7-$8. 647-1111.  

Golden Gate Audubon Society Walk at Jewel Lake in Tilden. Meet at 8:30 a.m. at the parking lot at the north end of Central Park Dr. for a one-mile, two-hour plus stroll through this lush riparian area to see wintering waterfowl. Sponsored by Golden Gate Audubon Society. 843-2222. ggas@goldengateaudubon.org 

Berkeley Women in Black weekly vigil from noon to 1 p.m. at Bancroft and Telegraph. Our focus is human rights in Palestine. 548-6310. 

Berkeley Chess Club meets every Fri. at 7 p.m. at the Hillside School, 1581 Le Roy Ave. 843-0150. 

SATURDAY, JAN. 3 

“Is this the Final Crisis of Capitalism?” A discussion with the Political Affairs Readers Group of the Communist Party USA at 10 a.m. at Niebyl-Proctor Marxist Library, 6501 Telegraph Ave., Oakland. www.marxistlibr.org 

Free Garden Tours at Regional Parks Botanic Garden Sat. and Sun. at 2 pm. Regional Parks Botanic Garden, Tilden Park. Call to confirm. 841-8732. www.nativeplants.org 

The Berkeley Lawn Bowling Club provides free instruction every Wed. and Sat. at 10:30 a.m. at 2270 Acton St. 841-2174.  

Car Wash Benefit for Options Recovery Services of Berkeley, held every Sat. from 9 a.m. to 2 p.m. at the Lutheran Church, 1744 University Ave. 666-9552. 

SUNDAY, JAN. 4 

“Miya of the Quiet Strength” A documentary film about the life of Miya Rodolfo-Sioson at 2 p.m. at Parkway Speakeasy Theater, 1834 Park Blvd., Oakland. Cost is $6. 814-2400. www.miyafilm.com 

Free Garden Tours at Regional Parks Botanic Garden in Tilden Park Sat. and Sun. at 2 p.m. Call to confirm. 841-8732. www.nativeplants.org 

Lake Merritt Neighbors Organized for Peace Peace walk around the lake every Sun. Meet at 3 p.m. at the colonnade at the NE end of the lake. 763-8712. lmno4p.org 

“A Worldview Derived from Darwin’s Thought” with Jack Steller at 10 a.m. at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Berkeley, 1 Lawson Rd., Kensington. 525-0302, ext. 306. 

MONDAY, JAN. 5 

Auditions for the chorus Soli Deo Gloria will be held by appointment at Trinity Lutheran Church, 1323 Central Ave., Alameda. For an appointment please call 888-734-7664 or email auditions@sdgloria.org 

Destiny Arts Center Spring Class Registration for classes in Martial Arts, Ballet, Modern, Hip Hop Dance, and Theater for ages 3-18, from 3:30 to 7:30 p.m. at 1000 42nd St., Oakland. 597-1619. 

World Affairs/Politics Discussion Group, for people 60 years and over, meets at 9:45 a.m. at Albany Senior Center, 846 Masonic Ave, Albany. Cost is $3.  

TUESDAY, JAN. 6 

Tuesday Tilden Walkers Join a few slowpoke seniors at 9:30 a.m. in the parking lot near the Little Farm for an hour or two walk. 215-7672, 524-9992. 

End the Occupation Vigil every Tues. at noon at Oakland Federal Bldg., 1301 Clay St. www.epicalc.org 

Berkeley Folk Dancers beginning folk dance class meets for eight Tues. at 7:40 p.m. at Live Oak Recreation Center, 1300 Shattuck Ave. Cost is $30 or $5 drop in. 841-1205. www.berkeleyfolkdancers.org 

Boffers and Board Games from 3 to 5:30 p.m. at Codornices Park, 1201 Euclid Ave. across from the Rose Garden, or 33 Revolutions Record Shop & Cafe, 10086 San Pablo Ave., El Cerrito when bad weather. Free, but parental supervision required. 526-5985. 

Family Storytime at 7 p.m. at Kensington Library, 61 Arlington Ave. 524-3043.  

Berkeley Camera Club meets at 7:30 p.m., at the Northbrae Community Church, 941 The Alameda. 548-3991.  

St. John’s Prime Timers meets at 9:30 a.m. at St. John’s Presbyterian Church, 2727 College Ave. 845-6830. 

Sing-A-Long Group from 2 to 3 p.m. at the Albany Senior Center, 846 Masonic Ave., Albany. 524-9122. 

Yarn Wranglers Come knit and crochet at 6:30 p.m. at Nomad Cafe, 6500 Shattuck Ave. 595-5344.  

WEDNESDAY, JAN. 7 

“Planet Earth” Parts I and II of David Attenborough’s documentary at 7:30 p.m. at Humanist Hall, 390 27th St., Oakland. Donation $5. www.Humanist Hall.org 

Red Cross Blood Services Volunteer Orientation from 10 a.m. to noon at 6230 Claremont Ave., Oakland. Registration required. 594-5165. 

“How to Tune & Wax Your Skiis/Snowboard” at 7 p.m. at REI, 1338 San Pablo Ave. 527-4140. 

Hiroshima survivor Takashi Tanemori, founder of Silkworm Peace Institute, talks about self-healing through forgiveness at 7:30 p.m. at Northbrae Community Church, 941The Alameda. Optional pasta dinner at 6:30 p.m. for $6. Call for dinner reservations. 526-3805. 

Walk Berkeley for Seniors meets every Wednesday at 9:30 a.m. at the Sea Breeze Market, just west of the I-80 overpass. Everyone is welcome, wear comfortable shoes and a warm hat. 548-9840. 

Theraputic Recreation at the Berkeley Warm Pool, Wed. at 3:30 p.m. and Sat. at 10 a.m. at the Berkeley Warm Pool, 2245 Milvia St. Cost is $4-$5. Bring a towel. 632-9369. 

Teen Chess Club from 3:30 to 5:30 p.m. at the North Branch Library, 1170 The Alameda at Hopkins. 981-6133. 

Morning Meditation Every Mon., Wed., and Fri. at 7:45 a.m. at Rudramandir, 830 Bancroft Way at 6th. 486-8700. 

Stitch ‘n Bitch at 6:30 p.m. at Caffe Trieste, 2500 San Pablo Ave., at Dwight. 548-5198.  

THURSDAY, JAN. 8 

Berkeley Oil Independence Report and Public Hearing at 7 p.m. at the Ecology Center, 2530 San Pablo Ave. The report is available at www.relocalize.net/groups/oilindependentberkeley 

College Admissions Panel with college admissions officers on the college admission process and the abilities and strengths colleges are looking for in applicants at 7 p.m. at Redwood Day School, 3245 Sheffield Ave., Oakland. RSVP to 534-0804 ext. 225. JLewis@rdschool.org 

Red Cross Blood Drive from 8:30 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. at Kaiser Center Lobby, 300 Lakeside Dr., Oakland. To schedule an appointment go to www.BeADonor.com  

Pacific Boychoir Academy Open House to learn about the academic and music program from 6 to 8 p.m. at 410 Alcatraz Ave. Please RSVP to 652-4722. www.pacificboychoiracademy.org 

Baby & Toddler Storytime at 10:15 and 11:15 a.m. at Kensington Library, 61 Arlington Ave. 524-3043.  

CITY MEETINGS 

Council Agenda Committee meets Mon., Jan. 5, at 2:30 p.m., at 2180 Milvia St. 981-6900. www.ci.berkeley.ca.us/ 

citycouncil/agenda-committee 

Community Health Commission meets Thurs., Jan. 8, at 6:30 p.m., at the North Berkeley Senior Center. 981-5356.  

ONGOING 

Help Low-wage Families with Their Taxes United Way’s Earn it! Keep It! Save It! needs Bay Area volunteers for its 7th annual free tax program. No previous experience necessary. Sign up at www.earnitkeepitsaveit.org


Arts Calendar

Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 07:04:00 PM

THURSDAY, DEC. 18 

CHILDREN 

“Coppelia: The Doll with the Porcelain Eyes” Puppet show at 2, 4 and 6 p.m. at Children’s Fairyland, 699 Bellevue Ave., Oakland. Cost is $6. 452-2259. www.fairyland.org 

EXHIBITIONS 

“Crazy After All These Years” NIAD faculty art show. Performance at 6 p.m., artists’ presentation at 7 p.m. at Craft & Cultural Arts Gallery, State of CA Office Bldg., Atrium, 1515 Clay St., Oakland. 622-8190. www.oaklandculturalarts.org 

MUSIC AND DANCE 

Berkeley High School’s African American Dance Program “Breaking The Chains of the New Generation” at 7 p.m. at Berkeley Community Theater. Tickets are $3-$10. 644-6120. BrownPaperTickets.com  

Berkeley Symphony Orchestra Joana Carneiro, conductor, at 8 p.m. at Zellerbach Hall, UC Campus Tickets are $20-$60. 841-2800. www.berkeleysymphony.org 

Oakland Ballet Company “Ron Guidi’s Nutcracker” at 10 a.m. at Paramount Theater, 2025 Broadway, Oakland. Tickets are $15-$50. www.ticketmaster.com 

Caribbean Allstars at 9:30 p.m. at Ashkenaz. Cost is $10-$13. 525-5054. www.ashkenaz.com 

Crooked Still at 8 p.m. at Freight and Salvage. Cost is $20.50-$21.50. 548-1761. www.freightandsalvage.org 

Kelly Park & Friends at 8 p.m. at Anna’s Jazz Island, 2120 Allston Way. Cost is $8. 841-JAZZ. www.AnnasJazzIsland.com 

Chabela, music from the Latin American Songbook at 8 p.m. at the Jazzschool. Cost is $12. 845-5373. www.jazzschool.com 

I’m a People, The Jug Dealers, bluegrass, at 9 p.m. at The Starry Plough. Cost is $8. 841-2082 www.starryploughpub.com 

Beat Boxing Great Show with Soulati, Infinite, Syzygy, Eachbox and many others at 8 p.m. at La Peña Cultural Center. Cost is $8-$10. 849-2568. www.lapena.org 

Diablo’s Dust at 10 p.m. at Beckett’s Irish Pub, 2271 Shattuck Ave. 647-1790. www.beckettsirishpub.com 

Taj Mahal Trio at 8 and 10 p.m., through Sun. at Yoshi’s at Jack London Square. Cost is $18-$18. 238-9200. www.yoshis.com 

FRIDAY, DEC. 19 

THEATER 

Altarena Playhouse “A Taffeta Christmas” Fri. and Sat. at 8 p.m., Sun. at 2 p.m. at Altarena Playhouse, 1409 High St., Alameda, through Dec. 21. Tickets are $17-$20. 523-1553. www.altarena.org 

Aurora Theatre Company “The Coverlettes Cover Christmas” Mon.-Sat. at 8 p.m., Sun. at 7 p.m. through Dec. 23 at 2081 Addison St. Tickets are $23-$25. 843-4822. auroratheatre.org 

Berkeley Rep “The Arabian Nights” Tues.-Sun. at the Thrust Stage, 2025 Addison St., through Jan. 18. Tickets are $27-$71. 647-2949. berkeleyrep.org 

“The Christmas Revels” A celebration of the Winter Solstice at 7:30 p.m., Sat. and Sun. at 1 and 5 p.m. through Dec. 21 at Scottish Rite Theater, 1547 Lakeside Dr., Oakland. Tickets are $15-$50. 452-8800. www.calrevels.org 

Impact Theatre “Tallgrass Gothic” Thurs.-Sat at 8 p.m. at La Val’s Subterranean, to Dec. 20. Tickets are $10-$17. 464-4468. impacttheatre.com 

Masquers Playhouse “Do I Hear a Waltz?” Fri. and Sat. at 8 p.m., Sun. at 2:30 p.m. at 105 Park Place, Pt. Richmond, through Dec. 20. Tickets are $20. 232-4031. www.masquers.org 

Shotgun Players “Macbeth” Thurs.-Sun. at 8 p.m. at The Ashby Stage, 1901 Ashby Ave., through Jan. 11. Tickets are $18-$30. 841-6500. www.shotgunplayers.org 

READINGS AND LECTURES 

“A Christmas Carol” read by English actor Martin Harris at 7:30 p.m. at Berkeley City Club, 2315 Durant. Donation $5-$10. Dinner available with reservation. 848-7800. 

The Best of Actors Reading Writers short story readings by local actors, at 8 p.m. at Berkeley City Club, 2315 Durant Ave. Donation $8-$15. 932-0214. 

MUSIC AND DANCE 

Berkeley Ballet Theater “The Nutcracker” at 7 p.m., Sat. at 2 and 7 p.m., Sun. at 2 p.m. at Julia Morgan Center for the Arts, 2640 College Ave. Tickets are $17-$23. 843-4689. berkeleyballet.org 

Oakland Ballet Company “Ron Guidi’s Nutcracker” at 10 a.m. at Paramount Theater, 2025 Broadway, Oakland. Tickets are $15-$50. www.ticketmaster.com 

Pacific Mozart Ensemble & Quartet San Francisco “Bruebeck & Brahms: Canticles and Love Songs” at 7:30 pm Berkeley City Club, 2315 Durant Ave. Tickets are $15-$25. 848-8022. www.pacificmozart.org 

San Francisco Girls Chorus East Bay Holiday Concert at 8 p.m. at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church, 2300 Bancroft Way. Tickets are $25. 415-863-1752. 

The Women's Antique Vocal Ensemble “Shepherds Arise!” at 8 p.m. at Montclair Presbyterian Church, 5701 Thornhill Drive, Oakland. Tickets are $5-$15. 233-1479. www.wavewomen.org 

Vince Ho, organ and harpsichord at 8 p.m. at St. Alban’s Episcopal Church, 1501 Washington Ave., Albany. Suggested donation $10. 525-1716. 

Clarinet Thing at 8 p.m. at The Hillside Club, 2286 Cedar St. Tickets are $10-$15. 845-1350. 

Arab Orchestra of San Francisco at 8 p.m. at La Peña Cultural Center. Cost is $13-$15. 849-2568. www.lapena.org 

Nathan Clevenger Group and Lisa Mezzacappa's Bait & Switch at 8 p.m. at Temescal Arts Center, 511 48th St. at Telegraph, Oakland. Tickets are $5-$10.  

Larry Vukovich Quintet at 8 p.m. at Anna’s Jazz Island, 2120 Allston Way. Cost is $14. 841-JAZZ. www.AnnasJazzIsland.com 

Andre Thierry & Zydeco Magic, Creole Belles at 9 p.m. at Ashkenaz. Cost is $15. 525-5054. www.ashkenaz.com 

Girlyman at 8 p.m. at Freight and Salvage. Cost is $20.50-$22.50. 548-1761. www.freightandsalvage.org 

Masahiro Nitta with Monsters of Shamisen at 8 p.m. at Rhythmix Cultural Works, 2513 Blanding Ave., ALameda. Tickets are $12-$15. 865-5060. www.rhythmix.org 

Plays Monk, ROVA Saxophone Quartet at 9:30 p.m. at The Starry Plough. Cost is $8. 841-2082. www.starryploughpub.com 

D.I., Opressed Logic, Neighborhood Watch at 8 p.m. at 924 Gilman St., an all-ages, member-run, no alcohol, no drugs, no violence club. Cost is $8. 525-9926. 

Rhythm Doctors at 10 p.m. at Beckett’s Irish Pub, 2271 Shattuck Ave. 647-1790. www.beckettsirishpub.com 

Dan K Harvest Holiday Bash at 9 p.m. at Shattuck Down Low, 2284 Shattuck Ave. Cost is $10. 548-1159.  

Flowtilla at 8 p.m. at Jupiter. 843-8277. 

Taj Mahal Trio at 8 and 10 p.m., through Sun. at Yoshi’s at Jack London Square. Cost is $18-$18. 238-9200. www.yoshis.com 

Adesha at 9 p.m. at Maxwell’s, 341 13th St., Oakland. Cost is $15.  

SATURDAY, DEC. 20 

CHILDREN  

Los Amiguitos de La Peña with Fran Avni & Bonnie Lockhart at 10:30 a.m. at La Peña. Cost is $5 for adults, $4 for children. 849-2568. www.lapena.org 

THEATER 

Berkeley Rep “Ennio” comedy and mime for the whole family at 2 and 8 p.m. at the Roda Theater, 2015 Addison St, through Dec. 31. Tickets are $20-$45. 647-2949. berkeleyrep.org 

Berkeley Public Library’s Teen Playreaders “Bizarre Shorts” Short plays, monologues and musical numbers from Shakespeare to Sondheim to Stoppard, at 7:30 p.m. at the Willard Middle School Metal Shop Theater, 2425 Stuart St. at Telegraph. 981-6236. 

READINGS AND LECTURES 

The Best of Actors Reading Writers short story readings by local actors, at 8 p.m. and Sun. at 2 p.m. at Berkeley City Club, 2315 Durant Ave. Donation $8-$15. 932-0214. 

Rhythm & Muse spoken word and music open mic series features Soul of Sparrow at 7 p.m. at Berkeley Art Center, 1275 Walnut St., between Eunice & Rose Sts., behind Live Oak Park. 644-6893.  

MUSIC AND DANCE 

“Amahl and the Night Visitors” and “Christmas Oratorio” at 7:30 p.m. at Unitarian Universalist Church, One Lawson Rd., Kensington. Tickets are $15-$20. 525-0302. 

Berkeley Ballet Theater “The Nutcracker” at 2 and 7 p.m., Sun. at 2 p.m. at Julia Morgan Center for the Arts, 2640 College Ave. Tickets are $17-$23. 843-4689. berkeleyballet.org 

Musae “Waitin’ for the Light to Shine” women’s vocal ensemble with the Menlo Brass Quintet at 8 p.m. at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church, 2300 Bancroft Way. Tickets are $10-$25. www.musae.org 

Oakland Ballet Company “Ron Guidi’s Nutcracker” at 2 and 8 p.m. at Paramount Theater, 2025 Broadway, Oakland. Tickets are $15-$50. www.ticketmaster.com 

“Pomegranates & Figs: A Feast of Jewish Music” featuring Nikitov & Teslim at 8 p.m. at Zellerbach Hall, UC Campus. Tickets are $20-$32. 642-9988. www.calperformances.net 

The Function, hip-hop and soul, at 9:30 p.m. at La Peña Cultural Center. Cost is $7-$8. 849-2568. www.lapena.org 

Terrence Kelly with Ellen Hoffman, Annual Holiday Caroling at 8 p.m. at Anna’s Jazz Island, 2120 Allston Way. Cost is $12. 841-JAZZ. www.AnnasJazzIsland.com 

In Harmony’s Way at 8 p.m. at Freight and Salvage. Cost is $18.50-$19.50. 548-1761. www.freightandsalvage.org 

Suzanna Smith at 8 p.m. at the Jazzschool. Cost is $12. 845-5373. www.jazzschool.com 

Charlie Wilson’s War at 10 p.m. at Beckett’s Irish Pub, 2271 Shattuck Ave. 647-1790.  

Blue Turtle Seduction, Feels Like Fire at 9:30 p.m. at The Starry Plough. Cost is $12. 841-2082. www.starryploughpub.com 

Taj Mahal Trio at 8 and 10 p.m., through Sun. at Yoshi’s at Jack London Square. Cost is $18-$18. 238-9200.  

SUNDAY, DEC. 21 

READINGS AND LECTURES 

The Best of Actors Reading Writers short story readings by local actors, at 2 p.m. at Berkeley City Club, 2315 Durant Ave. Donation $8-$15. 932-0214. 

MUSIC AND DANCE 

“Amahl and the Night Visitors” and “Christmas Oratorio” at 1 p.m. at Unitarian Universalist Church, One Lawson Rd., Kensington. Tickets are $15-$20. 525-0302. 

Berkeley Ballet Theater “The Nutcracker” at 2 p.m. at Julia Morgan Center for the Arts, 2640 College Ave. Tickets are $17-$23. 843-4689.  

Vivaldi’s “Gloria” at 2 p.m. at First Presbyterian Church, 26th and Broadway, Oakland. Free.  

Berkeley Community Chorus & Orchestra “The Geography of Emotions” Selections of Opera Choruses with Marcelle Dronkers, soprano, and Richard Goodman, baritone at 4:30 p.m. at St. Joseph The Worker Church, 1640 Addison St. Free, donations appreciated. 

Oakland Ballet Company “Ron Guidi’s Nutcracker” at 2 p.m. at Paramount Theater, 2025 Broadway, Oakland. Tickets are $15-$50. www.ticketmaster.com 

San Francisco Choral Artists “Glorious Early Music” with the premier of Ted Allen’s “Earth’s Winter Song” at 4 p.m. at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, 114 Montecito Ave., Oakland. Tickets are $12-$28. 415-979-5779.  

Messiah Sing-Along at 6 p.m. at St. David of Wales Church, 5641 Esmond Blvd. Richmond. Admission by donation; extra scores will be available for rental. 237-1531.  

Joyful Noise Choir “Old and New Christmas Carols” at 5 p.m. at El Sobrante First United Methodist Church, 670 Appian Way, across from El Sobrante Post Office, El Sobrante. 223-0790. 

Mariachi Los Camperos de Nati Cano “Fiesta Navidad” at 3 p.m. at Zellerbach Hall, UC Campus. Tickets are $24-$38. 642-9988.  

The Sephardic Music Experience with vocalist Kat Parra at 7:30 p.m. at La Peña. Cost is $12-$15. 849-2568. www.lapena.org 

Zoyres Wild Ferment! at 8 p.m. at Anna’s Jazz Island, 2120 Allston Way. Cost is $10. 841-JAZZ. www.AnnasJazzIsland.com 

Everyone Orchestra, Chris Haugen’s Seahorse Rodeo at 8 p.m. at Ashkenaz. Cost is $15. 525-5054. www.ashkenaz.com 

Trumpet Supergroup at 4:30 p.m. at the Jazzschool. Cost is $15. 845-5373. www.jazzschool.com 

Debbie Faigenbaum “Stories from the Heart” at 8 p.m. at the Jazzschool. Cost is $15. 845-5373. www.jazzschool.com 

Freight Holiday Revue hosted by Laurie Lewis at 8 p.m. at Freight and Salvage. Cost is $15.50-$16.50. 548-1761. www.freightandsalvage.org 

MONDAY, DEC. 22 

CHILDREN 

Tony Borders Puppets for 3-7 year olds at 4 p.m. at South Branch of the Berkeley Public Library, 1901 Russell St. 981-6260. 

MUSIC AND DANCE 

Downtown Jam Session with Glen Pearson at 7 p.m. at Ed Kelly Hall, Oakland Public Conservatory of Music, 1616 Franklin St., Oakland. Cost is $5. www.opcmucsic.org 

African Roots of Jazz Youth Drummers at 8 and 10 p.m. at Yoshi’s at Jack London Square. Benefit for Youth Arts. Cost is $10. 238-9200. www.yoshis.com 

TUESDAY, DEC. 23 

CHILDREN 

The Blue Fairy Storyteller for 3-7 year olds at 10:30 a.m. at West Branch of the Berkeley Public Library, 1125 University Ave. 981-6270. 

Chin-Chin for 5 year olds and up at 2:30 p.m. at Berkeley Public Library, 2090 Kittredge St. 981-6223. 

MUSIC AND DANCE 

Oakland Ballet Company “Ron Guidi’s Nutcracker” at 2 p.m. at Paramount Theater, 2025 Broadway, Oakland. Tickets are $15-$50. www.ticketmaster.com 

Zydeco Flames at 8:30 p.m. at Ashkenaz. Cajun dance lesson at 8 p.m. Cost is $10. 525-5054. www.ashkenaz.com 

WEDNESDAY, DEC. 24 

MUSIC AND DANCE 

Oakland Ballet Company “Ron Guidi’s Nutcracker” at 2 p.m. at Paramount Theater, 2025 Broadway, Oakland. Tickets are $15-$50. www.ticketmaster.com 

Natasha Miller’s Christmas Eve Concert at 8 p.m. at Yoshi’s at Jack London Square. Cost is $16. 238-9200. www.yoshis.com 

THURSDAY, DEC. 25 

MERRY CHRISTMAS 

FRIDAY, DEC. 26 

THEATER 

Berkeley Rep “Ennio” comedy and mime for the whole family at 2 and 8p.m. at the Roda Theater, 2015 Addison St, through Dec. 31. Tickets are $20-$45. 647-2949. berkeleyrep.org 

Berkeley Rep “The Arabian Nights” Tues.-Sun. at the Thrust Stage, 2025 Addison St., through Jan. 4. Tickets are $27-$71. 647-2949. berkeleyrep.org 

Paul Mooney “Black Man in the White House” comedy, through Dec. 31 at Black Repertory Theater, 3201 Adeline St. Tickets are $25-$100. 652-2120. 

Shotgun Players “Macbeth” Thurs.-Sun. at 8 p.m. at The Ashby Stage, 1901 Ashby Ave., through Jan. 11. Tickets are $18-$30. 841-6500. www.shotgunplayers.org 

FILM 

Movie Classics “Mary Poppins” the 1964 film starring julie Andrews at 8 p.m. at Paramount Theater, 2025 Broadway, Oakland. Tickets are $5. 625-8497. 

MUSIC AND DANCE 

Danny Caron Trio at 8 p.m. at Anna’s Jazz Island, 2120 Allston Way. Cost is $12. 841-JAZZ.  

We A Dem, Messenjah Selah, Luv Fyah, Reggae Boxing Day celebration at 9:30 p.m. at Ashkenaz. Cost is $10. 525-5054. www.ashkenaz.com 

The Cavepainters at 9:30 p.m. at The Starry Plough. Free. 841-2082.  

The P-PL at 10 p.m. at Beckett’s Irish Pub, 2271 Shattuck Ave. 647-1790.  

Patrick Wolff Trio at 8 p.m. at Jupiter. 843-8277. 

Roy Hargrove Big Band at 8 and 10 p.m. at Yoshi’s at Jack London Square, through Wed. Cost is $18-$28, Dec. 31 $100. 238-9200. www.yoshis.com 

SATURDAY, DEC. 27 

MUSIC AND DANCE 

String Circle with special guest Ian Swenson “There were Shepherds, abiding in the Fields” at 8 p.m. at Trinity Chapel, 2320 Dana St. Tickets are $8-$12. 549-3864.  

Dangerous Rhythm with Tim Fox at 9:30 p.m. at Albatross, 1822 San Pablo Ave. Cost is $3. 843-2473.  

Macy Blackman & The Mighty Fines at 8 p.m. at Anna’s Jazz Island, 2120 Allston Way. Cost is $14. 841-JAZZ.  

MC Zion, Jack Sprat Collective, hip hop and funk, at 8:30 p.m. at Ashkenaz. Cost is $13. 525-5054. www.ashkenaz.com  

David Grisman Bluegrass Experience at 5 and 8 p.m. at Freight and Salvage. Cost is $34.50-$35.50. 548-1761.  

2ME, CD release party, at 10 p.m. at Beckett’s Irish Pub, 2271 Shattuck Ave. 647-1790.  

Lost Cats, with Jim Passard at 8 p.m. at Spuds Pizza, 3290 Adeline St. Cost is $7-$10. 558-0881. 

Stymie and the Pimp Jones Luv Orchestra, The Funkanauts at 9:30 p.m. at The Starry Plough. Cost is $10. 841-2082.  

Roy Hargrove Big Band at 8 and 10 p.m. at Yoshi’s at Jack London Square, through Wed. Cost is $18-$28, Dec. 31 $100. 238-9200. www.yoshis.com 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SUNDAY, DEC. 28 

THEATER 

“The Big Fat Year End Kiss Off Comedy Show XVI” with Will Durst, Johnny Steele, Steven Kravitz, Debi Durst and others at 7 p.m. at Julia Morgan Center for the Arts, 2640 College Ave. Tickets are $15-$20. brownpapertickets.com 

MUSIC AND DANCE 

Mike Marshall & Catrina Lichtenberg at 8 p.m. at Freight and Salvage. Cost is $20.50-$21.50. 548-1761. www.freightandsalvage.org 

Val Mih Quartet, with special guest Eddie Gale, at 8 p.m. at Anna’s Jazz Island, 2120 Allston Way. Cost is $14. 841-JAZZ. www.AnnasJazzIsland.com 

Flamenco Family Fiesta at 7:30 p.m. at Ashkenaz. Cost is $10. 525-5054. www.ashkenaz.com 

MONDAY, DEC. 29 

READINGS AND LECTURES 

Poetry Express “Between the Holidays Erotic Poetry Night” at 7 p.m. at Priya Restaurant, 2072 San Pablo Ave. 644-3977. 

MUSIC AND DANCE 

Singing For Your Life with members of SoVoSó and special guests, from noon to midnight at First Congregational Church of Oakland, 2501 Harrison St., at 27th. Suggested donation $10 and up, benefits Arts First Oakland. 444-8511, ext. 15.  

Roy Hargrove Big Band at 8 and 10 p.m. at Yoshi’s at Jack London Square, through Wed. Cost is $18-$28, Dec. 31 $100. 238-9200. www.yoshis.com 

TUESDAY, DEC. 30 

MUSIC AND DANCE 

Tee Fee Swamp Boogie at 8:30 p.m. at Ashkenaz. Cajun dance lesson at 8 p.m. Cost is $10. 525-5054. www.ashkenaz.com 

WEDNESDAY, DEC. 31 

MUSIC AND DANCE 

San Francisco Chamber Orchestra “Leading Ladies” with Amanda King, vocalist, Robin Sharp, violinist, and Gwen Mok, pianist, at 8 p.m. at First Congregational Church, 2345 Channing Way. Free. 415-248-1640. www.sfchamberorchestra.org 

Bobi Cespedes & Her Quintet at 7 and 10 p.m. at Anna’s Jazz Island, 2120 Allston Way. Cost is tba. 841-JAZZ. www.AnnasJazzIsland.com 

High Country, Dix Bruce & Jim Nunally at 8 p.m. at Freight and Salvage. Cost is $26.50-$27.50. 548-1761. www.freightandsalvage.org 

Orquesta La Moderna Tradición, Cuban dance music, at 9:30 p.m. at La Peña Cultural Center. Cost is $25-$28. 849-2568. www.lapena.org 

Balkan Bash with Edessa, Brass Menageri, Joe Finn & Friends, at 8 p.m. at Ashkenaz. Cost is $20. 525-5054. www.ashkenaz.com 

The 2008 Beatdown, hosted by The Mundaze, at 10 p.m. at Beckett’s Irish Pub, 2271 Shattuck Ave. 647-1790. www.beckettsirishpub.com 

Chuck Prophet, Aiden Hawken at 9:45 p.m. at The Starry Plough. Cost is $25-$30. 841-2082. www.starryploughpub.com 

Code Name: Jonah at 9 p.m. at Jupiter. 843-8277. 

Roy Hargrove Big Band at 9 p.m. at Yoshi’s at Jack London Square, through Wed. Cost is $100. 238-9200. www.yoshis.com 

 


An Endangered People and Their Art

By Dorothy Bryant Special to the Planet
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 07:02:00 PM
Margot Schevill, curator of the exhibit of Mayan textiles at the Hearst Musuem, stands in front of the display of a white and red Mayan ceremonial blouse from the 1930s.
Michael Howerton
Margot Schevill, curator of the exhibit of Mayan textiles at the Hearst Musuem, stands in front of the display of a white and red Mayan ceremonial blouse from the 1930s.

More than two years ago (April 25, 2006) the Daily Planet published my profile of Margot Blum Schevill. In that piece I emphasized Margot’s successful, even smooth, transition from one creative phase to another. A well-known singer when I first knew her over thirty years ago, Margot had completed a degree in anthropology and had become an authority on the Maya textiles of Guatemala, both as art and as history of a culture.  

At that time she had completed two books about Maya textiles: “Maya Textiles of Guatemala and The Maya Textile Tradition (with photos by Jeffrey Jay Foxx). In addition, she had just narrated and coauthored Splendor in the Highlands, a half-hour documentary DVD with videographer Kathleen Mossman Vitale, introducing the weaving styles and techniques of 22 Maya weavers of Guatemala. As soon as they could get funding, Margot and Kathleen planned make an hour-long documentary, covering a longer time period. It would start with the 1902 collection gathered by Dr. Gustavus A. Eisen, during an expedition financed by Phoebe Hearst, and continuing up to the present (A Century of Color: Maya Weaving & Textiles now available from Endangered Threads Documentaries, 1530 Tuolumne St., Vallejo, CA 94590).  

As if that were not enough to keep her busy, Margot had been asked to curate an exhibition of Guatemalan/Maya textiles at—appropriately enough—the Phoebe A. Hearst Museum at Kroeber Hall on the UC campus. The exhibition, titled “Traje De La Vida: Maya Textiles of Guatemala,” opened on Sept. 25 and will run through most of next year, with rotating exhibits, in the tidy space reached by going through the Museum Bookstore. 

For an ignorant layperson like myself (as well as for the better-informed who know what to look for!), Margot and the PAHMA staff have made impressive, yet welcoming, use of this space. On the walls of a far corner in the back of the hall, facing each other, are ongoing, silent films of Guatemala in the early 20th century and today, giving images of historical context.  

If you can visit the museum by Jan. 9, you might catch Martina Jimenez weaving a piece using the traditional “backstrap loom.” (Ms. Jimenez speaks not only her native Mayan language, Mam, but Spanish too, if you want to ask her a question about her ongoing demonstration.) 

Among the displays of glass-enclosed garments, well lit and hung to show their intricate design, there are videos by Kathleen Vitale of other Guatemalan Maya, each speaking one of the 22 Mayan languages, then translating their remarks into Spanish, with English subtitles. There are family scenes too, but, says Kathleen, “I never photograph a child unless he or she is enrolled in school—their best chance for a good life in these times—otherwise I would be exploiting child labor!” 

Which brings up the ways in which the tortured history of Guatemalan oppression and civil wars (as Margot explains) are woven into these textiles—in the very fabrics used, the materials available, the dyeing processes, the uses of the clothing. Margot points out that most of the Maya men “wear jeans and T-shirts now, and speak Spanish, lest they be targeted for ‘execution’ in the still ongoing violence.” Yet the beauty of the displayed clothing seems to triumph over the dangers that threaten these people and their traditional art.  

But this is not an overtly political exhibit. It has a lighter side. We are invited to try on some colorful shirts, pantalones, or exquisite and elaborate blouses or huipiles, and then admire ourselves in a conveniently placed full-length mirror. We can laugh (as the Maya obviously succeeded in doing) at the silly ferocity of a spangled, life-sized figure of a conquistador. And we may even hope for good luck emanating from a life-sized image of Marimón—a saint? a god?—even the Maya aren’t sure. 

This is a classy exhibit, worth visiting several times as it changes through the next year, displaying other examples of clothing that is art. Or just to take a second look at some of the intricate, decorative complexities of what is hanging there now. 

Of course, the danger is that you might not be able to leave through that gift shop without buying a unique huipil, a documentary DVD, a book, or, at least, a woven handbag. So relax, already, and do it. The money will go to a good cause, helping the Maya artists and these “endangered threads” to survive. 

Teachers: There are one-hour docent tours that meet California State Content Standards in Social Studies, Visual Arts, and Language Arts. Call 643-7649 or contact pahmaeducation@berkeley.edu. 

 

Traje De La Vida:  

Maya Textiles of Guatemala 

10 a.m.-4:30 p.m. Wednesday-Saturday;  

noon-4 p.m. Sunday, at the Phoebe A. Hearst Museum, 103 Kroeber Hall, UC Berkeley (Bancroft at College). Free admission.  

 

 


‘Mz. Dee’s Medicine Show,’ Live on BETV

By Ken Bullock Special to the Planet
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 07:07:00 PM

Mz. Dee’s Medicine Show, a new musical variety TV series, hosted by lifelong local jazz and R&B singer Mz. Dee, will be cable- and web-cast live on BETV Channel 28 and BETV.org, 2 p.m., this Saturday, from the Berkeley Community Media studio. 

The show will feature local talent and locations. Guests will include guitarist Risa Gratiano, harmonica player Bird Leg, Berkeley High student and pianist Andre Couture, musical members of Mz. Dee’s family—her brother, Mr. Pockets, on drums and nephew, Playboy, as MC—and her band, the VIPs. “It’ll be a big party, live with a live studio audience, party favors, balloons and dancing.” 

The show will also include interviews with a range of artists from different disciplines, as well as public service announcements focusing on agencies that help the disadvantaged in the Bay Area. 

Future locations will include Anna’s Jazz Island, the JazzSchool in Berkeley and Dorothy King’s Q-Lounge at her Everett & Jones BBQ Restaurant in Oakland. 

Mz. Dee was a featured vocalist with bandleader Johnny Otis and has sung on CD with Bonnie Raitt and at Italy’s Umbria Jazz Festival, besides playing in Ascension of the Blues with Berkeley singer Nicholas Bearde and others. She characterizes herself as “fortunate enough to sing all different styles—jazz, blues, soul, classical, popular tunes ... My mother’s a church organist—not so much Gospel, per se, more Methodist anthems and classical arias. She played for the Church by the Side of the Road on Adeline and for Phillips Temple, for Taylor Methodist and now for Mills Grove Disciples of Christ. It sounds like a bunch of gigs! I call her the Minister of Music, though she corrects me by saying she’s not a minister, but she’s directed massed choirs, been voted best organist in the area, and is a great singer. She used to sing opera.” 

Her mother didn’t teach her music, however.  

“She’d say ‘Not my own children!’ Didn’t think that would work out. But I heard her instructions, just picked it up from her—and growing up, heard all that good music from the Beatles ... I wanted to be a rock star! Then got more into Soul and R&B, listening to Sly and the Family Stone, Tower of Power—the best. I opened for James Brown and he later told a friend of mine, ‘She’s got a lot of Soul.’”  

She also cites “hanging out with Ruth Brown, a wonderful influence in my life. I miss her. And I’ve been fortunate to go on tour in Europe 14 or 15 times. I’m going back to Germany in April for two weeks.” 

Mz. Dee has a CD available on CD Baby, Mz. Dee—Real Woman/Real Soul. “I play a little piano and write songs that way. Some will be on my new CD, hopefully out by summer.” 

Mz. Dee has hosted a TV show before, “about seven years ago, in Alameda, ‘Dee Talks’—people thought it was ‘Detox’! I want to network using television, to help promote other musicians and show good places to hear music. Club business is bad now. We’re making the same money we did in 1980. That’s where the blues is from, trying to get that paycheck, feed your family. And it’s hard to go out and party like we used to—to see a good band costs a lot. People are sitting at home at their computers. They can see us on the web stream.” 

Mz. Dee sums it all up: “You got to keep giving back, remember where you came from. Taking care of everything. I’ve been out of the circuit about a year now, I think. I’ve got no sense of time, except within the song! Some might think I’m emerging again. I’ve been here all the time, but I got to get it back in gear!”


Teen Playreaders Present ‘Bizarre Shorts’

By Ken Bullock Special to the Planet
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 07:08:00 PM

Teen Playreaders, which meets weekly at the Berkeley Public Library to read aloud from plays and monologues, have invited the whole community to their free show of Bizarre Shorts, featuring short plays, musical numbers and monologues (some original), “something for everybody, from Shakespeare to Sondheim to Stoppard,” 7:30 p.m., this Saturday at the Willard Middle School Metal Shop Theater, 2425 Stuart St. (off Telegraph). 

Debbie Carton, who organized Teen Readers eight years ago as a program of Teen Services and Friends of the Library, noted the free price tag at the door “wasn’t a case of getting what you pay for.” 

“It’s good!” she said. “That’s my role: I play the Roman emperor the night before the show, thumbs up or down. I’m ruthless! The kids start out ambitious—when you get a bunch of them together, they want to put on a show—but we don’t want to hurt the audience, so what doesn’t work gets nibbled away.” 

Even if “there’s no torture, there’s a tortuous piece” from Sweeney Todd, “and the kids can sing!” Then there’s “the catfight scene” from A Midsummer Night’s Dream (“teens can relate to it—like high school romance!”) and “the ‘Dead in a box’ scene” from Rosenkrantz and Guildenstern. There are two original monologues, one from a poetry slam that starts with prose and goes into rap, and “a surprise finale, ‘I’m So Glad to Be a Girl,’ with the girls dressed as men, singing the chorus, while the boys mince out onstage in drag!” All the pieces performed are “no more than 10 minutes, no more than six people.”  

Andy Cantor, a Berkeley High student who has been into theater since age 9, started going to Teen Playreaders “about eight months ago. I heard about it from Libby Vega, who I met in the summer program of the California Shakespeare Conservatory, assistant-directing a production of King Lear.” 

Cantor was “kind of nervous” going to Playreaders, but “everybody was so sweet, so accepting,” she felt a part of the group.  

She characterizes it as “a bunch of kids, some really talented, putting on characters, playing all the parts to the hilt, getting goofy—but even when it’s quieter, we’re still getting together to have fun.”  

Everybody plays all the roles—they often switch off at the punctuation in a line—and even “very quiet kids, with little voice” that Cantor has observed “really enjoyed themselves and kept coming back.”  

There’s been hard work—“a lot of singing lessons, tons of rehearsing,” said Cantor, but “every single person is so committed. It’s fun because we all know each other. We’re determined to make it a really good show. What strikes me about Playreaders is that we can do that with hardly any adult involvement. It’s inspired me to go off and do my own stuff, to direct.” 

“It shows what happens when you empower kids. I hate that word!” laughs Cantor. “They participate as much as they like. Teens like to gender-bend—so let ’em!”  

And she promises the audience won’t be “just warm bodies in folding chairs.” There’s some audience participation, which she calls “the hat trick—but it involves only those who want to participate. The others get let off the hook. But there’s always an element of chance. There’re no ringers in Teen Playreaders!” 

BIZARRE SHORTS 

Presented by Teen Playreaders at 7:30 p.m., Saturday, Dec. 20, at the Willard Middle School Metal Shop Theater, 2425 Stuart St. Free admission. 981-6236. berkeleypubliclibrary.org.


Hansberry Theater Stages ‘Black Nativity’ in SF

By Ken Bullock Special to the Planet
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 07:10:00 PM

From the staged, stylized Gospel story of the door-to-door search for shelter and the adoration of the wise men in a stable in Bethlehem to the full-out testifying, choral singing and social pageantry of the African-American church, Lorraine Hansberry theater company’s Black Nativity: A Gospel Celebration of Christmas, now in its 10th year (and Hansberry’s 28th), is playing through Dec. 28 at San Francisco’s PG&E Auditorium. 

With a new script and staging, the show bursts forth with the exuberance of its assembled voices, dancers, musicians and narrator. Its dynamic storytelling, often full of humor, constantly shifts focus, just as the music does for each voice, always bringing it back together in community to tell of the love of birth and creation in exciting rhythms and harmonies. 

Hansberry’s artistic director, Stanley Wil-liams, first gives us the sacred story as told, with the earthy embellishments theater has always brought to the hallowed—then brings on the congregation that enacts and celebrates it in their own Come Sunday glory, a direct address to our emotions, thoughts and all our senses.  

The singing, both choral and solo, is almost continuous, a mix of Gospel songs with a few “gospelized” Christmas carols. Each soloist is distinguished not only by differences in range and timbre from the others, but in mood, manner of delivery, movement and facial expression. 

In the first part on opening night, the story of the nativity itself, the shepherds—as was true in the medieval miracle plays—clown around. The older herdsmen alternate with the younger as cut-buddies, disapproving of the kids’ contemporary singing and rap, ducking in with Motown and Stax numbers. The audience rocked with laughter. 

This lightening of the stylized biblical material, overseen by Allison L. Payne’s warm narration (in the church-going part, she preaches lustily), was just a hint of the opening up of the second part.  

Coming back from intermission to our seats, the audience watched the congregation shown to theirs onstage, white-gloved ushers (Demure Adrianna Bre Harris and the lithe Michael Montgomery, who danced Mary and Joseph in the first half, now come into their own, choreographed by Pjay Phillips), worshippers in full regalia—and attitude, bringing the humor out of the fields of Bethlehem, and a little closer to home. There are some deft touches of satire, even in the midst of stirring anthems.  

Arvis Strickling-Jones, raised in the Bay Area and a world traveler as performer and choir director, who brought the San Quentin Inmates Choir to “Good Morning, America” on TV with her song “A Friend,” has returned to shine as music director and principal artist (Robin Hodge-Williams, another past music director of Black Nativity, will step in Dec. 20-21). 

Yvonne Cobb and Sherral Strickling-McCall assist in musical direction and sing with the choir, which—with the dancers joining in—comes close to 20 voices. Each deserves her own review. On this crowded—sometimes overwhelmed—stage, the musicians are invisible but never unheard, swinging away behind the scenes: Kenneth Little, conducting from the keyboards, James “Booyah” Richard on bass and drummer Troy Hill. 

The designers (Rose Plant, costumes; set, Robert Broadfoot; Matthew Royce, lights; Ian Hunter, sound) and the techs have transformed a handsome corporate auditorium into a theater (Hansberry having just lost their longtime downtown SF home) to stage a tabernacle. 

Easy to praise Black Nativity and its wonderful cast and crew; hard to get across the sheer exuberance—and fun—they convey their deep-down message for the holidays. It’s delightful just to sit and watch it unfold. But the audience never just sits—toes tap, hands are clapping or being shaken by the choir, moving from the stage, up and down the aisles. 

BLACK NATIVITY 

Through Dec. 28 at the PG&E Auditorium, 77 Beale St., San Francisco. $18–36. 

(415) 474-8800. LHTSF.org


Thornton Wilder on the South Side of Our Town

By Phil McArdle Special to the Planet
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 07:11:00 PM
Thornton wilder and Gertrude Stein in 1937 at her country home at Bilignin, in the Rhone Valley.
Thornton wilder and Gertrude Stein in 1937 at her country home at Bilignin, in the Rhone Valley.

Thornton Wilder created a substantial body of work but there seems little doubt that his lasting fame depends on Our Town. Since its opening on Broadway 70 years ago this extraordinary play has never really been off the stage. New productions of it open somewhere in the world almost every month. 

Wilder was born in Wisconsin in 1897, but he spent important childhood and adolescent years in Berkeley. When he was 9, his father was appointed U.S. Consul-General in China. The whole family traveled with him to his post, but Thornton’s mother quickly decided Hong Kong was no place for her and the children (Thornton had a brother and two sisters). She promptly took them back to the United States, and they settled in Berkeley for four years. 

 

Berkeley, 1906-1910 

They lived on the south side of the University campus, at the corner of Parker Street and College Avenue. Thornton attended Emerson Grammar School at Forest and Piedmont Avenues, and McKinley School on Dwight Way, between Dana and Telegraph Avenue. When he was ten he discovered music. As his sister Isabel wrote, “...St. Mark’s Episcopal Church, about two-and-a-half blocks from our Congregational church in Berkeley, had...an excellent organist and choir-master, and Thornton had discovered that a boy was needed to pump the organ when the organist practiced...Happening to meet the rector of St. Mark’s, Mother dared to ask if it would be possible for Thornton to be a choir boy. It all came together ... [he was] excused from our Sunday School five minutes early so that he could dash over to St. Mark’s, get helped into a little white cotta...and march down the aisle singing joyously ... The organist appreciated Thornton’s thirst for music ... and let him practice a little on the organ.” 

At about the same time Thornton discovered the theater and began writing plays for himself and his siblings to perform at home. In her preface to his “Alcestiad,” Isabel Wilder said: “Several times a year the [UC] Classics Department mounted productions of plays by Sophocles, Aeschylus and Euripides [at the Greek Theater]. Our mother joined the volunteer workers in the costume shop and stenciled furlongs of borders in the Greek key or laurel leaf patterns on gorgeously colored togas. She made a little blue one with shells around the hem for Thornton—and a green one for brother Amos—and sent them off to apply for roles as members of the Athenian mob. Thus Thornton discovered “total” theater and the Golden Age of Antiquity. 

 

Berkeley, 1913-1915 

In 1911, when Thornton was 13, the family reunited briefly in Shanghai, only to scatter again. Mrs. Wilder returned to Berkeley in 1913, rented a house on Prospect Street (near today’s Memorial Stadium) and gathered her children around her. Thornton enrolled at Berkeley High School for his junior and senior years. According to Gilbert Harrison’s description, at fifteen he was thin, “about five feet eight inches tall, with a straight nose, firm chin, thick eyebrows...a high forehead, and wavy black hair.” He was also socially inept, badly dressed, and thought by his classmates to be an odd duck. 

Thornton escaped from the slings and arrows of his daily life by reading voraciously in the high school library and, after he discovered it, the University library. He also indulged in day dreams. Once, while walking to school he was “sky-gazing” and walked into a telephone pole. He grew out of this, but in his early days at college, memories of being a misfit came upon him “every now and then” and he “remembered what it was like at Berkeley High.” 

Despite his problems he accomplished a lot in those two years. Most importantly, he wrote plays. One, The Advertisement League, was performed at a school assembly. He also started writing a series of very short, three-minute plays. When he published a selection of them in The Angel That Troubled the Water (1928), he included two written at Berkeley High, Proserpina and the Devil and Brother Fire. 

His absorption in the East Bay’s theatrical offerings became intense. He attended classical plays at the Greek Theater and serious drama at local community theaters. And once a week he went to Oakland to see touring companies from New York perform the comedies and melodramas of the day. Among the actors he saw were Sir Johnston Forbes-Robertson, Margaret Anglin and Sidney Howard. He may have been an ungainly teenager, but he saw all this through the eyes of genius. 

 

Rome 

Wilder graduated from Berkeley High in 1915, attended Oberlin and Yale, served in the Coast Guard, and found a teaching post in Rome. Thornton Wilder was a gay man and very protective of his privacy; it seems to have been in Italy that he came out and began to live on his own terms. 

But there is no doubt that after years of preoccupation with theater, Rome is where he began writing fiction. When his first novel, The Cabala, appeared in 1926 Edmund Wilson thought it “...quite extraordinary that a novelist so young should display from the first page of his very first book, so accomplished a mastery of form and a point of view so much his own.” Wilder followed it with The Bridge of San Luis Rey, The Woman of Andros, and Heaven’s My Destination. 

 

‘Our Town’ 

Our Town was suggested to Wilder by “Lucinda Matlock,” a poem in Edgar Lee Masters’ The Spoon River Anthology. Lying in her grave, Lucinda remembers how she “went to the dances at Chandlerville,” and 

Driving home in the moonlight of middle June, 

...I found Davis. 

We were married and lived together for seventy years... 

These lines inspired him with the desire to “record a village’s life on stage, with realism and with generality...the life of a village against the life of the stars.” He succeeded completely. Our Town is a powerful work which makes an indelible impression on any receptive viewer. 

In developing Our Town Wilder employed ideas he had discussed with his friend Gertrude Stein, another former East Bay resident. They had met in Paris, and Wilder was impressed by her vast novel, The Making of Americans (subtitled “Being a History of a Family’s Progress”). He wrote to her that his play’s “third act is based on your ideas, as on great pillars” and “whether you know it or not, until further notice, you’re in a deep-knit collaboration.” 

In The Letters of Gertrude Stein and Thornton Wilder, Edward Burns and Ulla Dydo have pointed out “structural parallels” between Stein’s book and Wilder’s play: Act 1 deals with “daily life;” Act 2, with “love and marriage;” and Act 3, with “death.” In their view, Stein’s book goes “rolling along inexorably in huge incremental epic waves,” while Wilder’s play is “small” and “homey” in its New England setting “with its astonishingly accurate portrayal of daily life.” 

Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas took a rooting interest in the plays success. As opening night approached, they developed a case of first night jitters, and Gertrude sent him an urgent letter. “My dear Thornton,” she wrote, “Where oh where is that cable telling all about how the play went, what happened, we say it to each other every morning, why no word from Thornton and there is not even an echo that answers nein...tell us what happened to you and be quick about it and lots of love now and always.” 

They needn’t have worried. The play opened in February 1938, and began a triumphant run of 336 performances. 

Our Town struck audiences as revolutionary in technique because it abandoned conventional staging. There were no paintings hanging on the walls of the set. In fact, there were no walls. The props consisted of folding chairs arranged by the stage manager, an actor who also narrated the story. It marked a bold return to the bare stage of classical drama which Wilder had seen as a boy in Berkeley. 

Wilder’s imagination gives life to Our Town, and his Grovers Corners draws on all the small towns he had lived in. His transformation of his material is so complete that specific places cannot be recognized. There are, of course, tantalizing moments that invite speculation. For example, the choir rehearsal and the character of Simon Stimson, the organist, may draw remotely on Wilder’s youth in Berkeley. A sensitive musician trapped in a world of tone deaf singers, Stimson’s choir makes his teeth hurt. In despair he beseeches the singers to remember that “music came into the world to give pleasure.” It was at St. Mark’s, Isabel Wilder told us, that love of church music became a permanent part of Thornton’s life. 

 

‘The Matchmaker’ 

Of The Matchmaker, one of his last important plays, he wrote, “This play parodies the stock-company plays that I used to see at Ye Liberty Theater, Oakland, California, when I was a boy.” It is a mellow romp in which, as the Daily Planet’s Ken Bullock wrote recently, out of a series of farcical and comic coincidences, “a charming happy ending befalls everyone.” 

Thornton Wilder spent six years of his childhood and youth in Berkeley, and those years played their part in his work. He became a major figure in our literature and, after a long and productive life, died in his sleep at home in Connecticut on Dec. 7, 1975. 

 

Phil McArdle is at work on a book about Sidney Howard. 


About the House: Slavery Lite

By Matt Cantor
Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 07:12:00 PM

I recently received a letter from a reader (Let’s call him PR) about his experiences with a local contractor and his illegal help. His concern, which is to be commended, is in regards to the pay and working conditions afforded his helper, whom he pseudonymously called Gem (presumably his feelings about the worker, which he effused copiously in a letter which is too long to include herein). 

Gem was left on site to do most of the work, according to PR and was being paid “pennies above minimum wage.” Current California minimum wage is set at $8 an hour and is almost $10 in San Francisco, which, like many jurisdictions, can set their own amount as long as it’s above the U.S. level of $6.55 (due to increase to $7.25 next July). 

Actually, according to PR, Gem is not in this country legally and, should officials become involved, would probably be deported. This raises serious questions about the legal pay requirements of the individual that I cannot answer. What I can say is that contractors, licensed or otherwise (according to PR, the “contractor” is not licensed), like all employers (short term or longer) are required to withhold tax and to file certain employment documents for all workers who are not simply “day labor.” Day labor designations are designed to cover up to several hundred dollars to one person in the course of a year and are capped to prevent this designation from being used for other than very short-term employment. 

One of the requirements for contractors of many kinds is Workman’s Compensation and, again, an illegal alien has no rights that I am aware of to collect from this fund. Further, most illegals would rather receive their fully untaxed wages and have no withholdings at all, preferring to fly under the radar. 

These circumstances mean that many day laborers get hurt and have no recourse. There are also many deaths each year that go uncompensated as a result. 

This conspiracy, of sorts, puts everyone at risk but has become the common specie of the trades. My friend Harold, a brilliant and hardworking ecologist, landscaper and philosopher, aptly calls this whole constellation of issues “Slavery Lite.” 

The contractor, according to PR (I keep saying this because it’s all second hand and much of what he has surmised is unverified, making the depth of the well of untruth hard to plumb), is making “upwards of 50 percent” of Gem’s wages. So, perhaps we’re talking about $15 an hour being charged for the worker. While this may seem grossly unfair, I have trouble arriving at that conclusion based on wage distribution alone.  

As a recovering contractor and one who worked with fully taxed as well as casual labor over the years, I can tell you that by the time you finish paying all your bills, it’s very hard to have made any money at all if you don’t charge the client substantially beyond the laborer’s wage. The number of items that go into this calculation is often beyond the awareness of all but the best contractors but trust me when I say it’s true. It’s the same as our home budgets and some of us, on our grouchier days might term it the death by a thousand cuts. That said, one would need to take a very close look at the workings of the contractor’s operation to ascertain the level of misfeasance. 

If you are actually paying only $15 an hour (or close to it), you’re getting a bargain (albeit a bargain with the devil since you’re also de facto hiring an illegal, as well as working with an unlicensed contractor). 

If the contractor were to charge an additional $3-4 per hour over Gem’s wages, I can be sure that within a few accounting cycles he would find that he was losing money so this shouldn’t be your focus. Furthermore, to assume that Gem sans the contractor could provide you with the same end product may be false.  

However unscrupulous the contractor may be, they may be bringing many things to the table, including the right tools, transportation, planning, knowledge, training for the worker, knowing what to buy and actually doing it. Knowing what they can and cannot do according to codes and other local rules is another thing the contractor may bring to the workbench. 

I don’t know the skill level of your contractor or of Gem but it is common for leadership to provide much to make themselves essential. 

Gem claimed to have been kept, for most of a year, in “quasi-bondage” (obviously PR’s terminology) through a “combination of vague inducements, threats, and by partial and delayed payments in “installments” for his labor.” True or not, in this case, it is a sad reality for some of our national day labor force. 

Now, there’s a lot of hearsay on which to attempt to base an opinion here, but even assuming that this laborer is giving a fair representation of his circumstances, one wonders why Gem would stay with this contractor for the better part of a year, as has been claimed. While many illegals are hungry to work as much as possible, there is a very active marketplace for hardworking, capable day laborers and, were he to feel threatened, he could certainly head back to the street to get picked up at any one of the many “slavery lite” venues readily visible within a block of so many of our local lumber yards (it’s a wonder that the INS doesn’t have offices across the street from every Home Depot). 

PR, by participating in hiring either Gem or the contractor, you are participating in the propagation of these circumstances. If you want to help Gem become legal, that would be great but it won’t be easy. There are also about 12 million Gems out there (57 percent being Mexican according to the Pew Hispanic Center). Write your congressperson and demand fair employment and basic services for everyone here illegally OR demand that the U.S. and Mexico establish basic human rights and minimum wages on both sides of the border.  

Then, all the Gems will be able to choose what circumstances they want to work under and can more easily leave an abusive situation. NAFTA has been very good for big business but not very good for the hombre on the street, as you can see. 

I’ll climb down from the soap-box for a minute to address a last issue brought forth by PR, that being a matter of undisclosed mark-up. Marking up materials within reason and by agreement is perfectly fine. In fact, if the contractor gets a discount at the store, that’s his to pocket and is not required to share it. If the contractor is charging for things he didn’t buy or marking up beyond the price you would pay at the store, he needs to tell you. If he didn’t, I would bring it up in a non-hostile manner and see if you can get the money back. 

Frankly, I am more concerned that you are not getting minimally acceptable construction performed than that you may be overpaying. The latter seems unlikely and I very much doubt that this contractor (if we may stretch the fabric of reality to call him such) is making a lot of money. 

I don’t blame PR for trying to save money or for wanting to go to bat for an illegal laborer off the street. I am concerned, though, that there are legal, licensed contractors employing legal, insured, tax-paying workers who are displaced through this process.  

These latter ones cost more and come with substantially more accountability for PR, who is concerned about his recourse with Gem’s employer (there is very little and if he calls the IRS (another of his questions), he may be in trouble for having illegals working for him, despite the contractor’s involvement. Additionally, working with an unlicensed contractor may mean that if someone gets hurt, he may get sued as the nearby deep pocket. 

Don’t get me wrong. I’m certainly not finding fault with PR. There are many among us who have made all these same choices. Certainly, I think we’re dealing with a contractor who should be forced to hire legal people at a living wage, protect them with insurance and withhold taxes. It’s too bad.  

Most people have no idea how widespread this is. If you want some idea, park where you can watch the labor pool on the street some morning and watch the trucks pick up men for a few hours. It’s a sizeable percentage of the work in every major city. 

To PR, here’s my suggestion. Don’t hire the contractor again. Hire a licensed, well-reputed one who comes with references. Say goodbye to any money you think you may have overpaid and, as my mother would say, don’t send any more good after the bad. Have Gem over to dinner and find out his situation. See if you can help him without hiring him illegally. Talk to the INS about how to help someone get a green card and seek work in the U.S., naming no names, of course. You wouldn’t want them digging up your Gem. 


Community Calendar

Wednesday December 17, 2008 - 06:51:00 PM

THURSDAY, DEC. 18 

Town Hall Meeting on the Berkeley Climate Action Plan Hosted by Council Members Darryl Moore and Max Anderson at 7 p.m. at the Frances Albrier Center, in San Pablo Park at 2800 Park St. www.BerkeleyClimateAction.org 

Health Care Community Discussion in response to the Obama transition team invitation to offer ideas to achieve health care reform at 7:30 p.m. at the Hillside Club, 2286 Cedar St. at Arch. info@hillsideclub.org 

Holiday Crafts and Tree Trim for ages five and up from 3 to 5 p.m. at Kensington Library, 61 Arlington Ave. 524-3043.  

Larry Everest and Norman Solomon Debate “U.S. Foreign Policy and Opposing Wars during the Obama Presidency” at 7 p.m. at Berkeley Fellowship of Unitarian Universalists, Cedar and Bonita. Donation $5-$10. 495-5132. 

Santa’s Wonderland Thurs. though Sun. until Dec. 23 at 1809 Fourth St. Donate socks filled with toiletries or an unwrapped book for the Children’s Learning Center at Harrison House Homeless Shelter. 644-3002.  

Toastmasters Berkeley Communicators meets at 7:30 a.m. at Au Coquelet, 2000 University Ave. Rob.Flammia@gmail.com 

Baby & Toddler Storytime at 10:15 and 11:15 a.m. at Kensington Library, 61 Arlington Ave. 524-3043.  

Circle of Concern Vigil meets at noon on West Lawn of UC campus across from Addison and Oxford to oppose UC weapons labs contracts. 848-8055. 

Avatar Metaphysical Toastmasters Club at 6:45 p.m. at Spud’s Pizza, 3290 Adeline at Alcatraz. namaste@avatar.freetoasthost.info  

Fitness Class for 55+ at 9:15 a.m. at Jewish Community Center, 1414 Walnut St. 848-0237. 

FRIDAY, DEC. 19 

City Commons Club Noon Luncheon with Jeff Robinson, photographer on “Wildlife of Asia.” Luncheon at 11:45 a.m. for $14.50, speech at 12:30 p.m., at the Berkeley City Club, 2315 Durant St. For information and reservations call 524-7468.  

Demonstrate for Peace! Bring your signs and determination to bring our troops home now and keep out of Iran, from 2 to 4 p.m. at Acton and University Aves. Sponsored by Berkeley-East Bay Gray Panthers, Strawberry Creek Lodge Tenants Association and the Iraq Moratorium. 841-4143. 

Berkeley Women in Black weekly vigil from noon to 1 p.m. at Bancroft and Telegraph. Our focus is human rights in Palestine. 548-6310. 

Kol Hadash Humanistic Judaism Chanukah Celebration at 6:30 p.m. at Albany Community Center, with a farewell party for Rabbi Jay. Please bring non-perishable food for the needy. For more info about the potluck email info@kolhadash.org 

SATURDAY, DEC. 20 

Women on Common Ground Holiday Decorations Join this annual workshop to make holiday decorations for the Women’s Drop-In Shelter and for yourself also, from 10 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. at Tilden Nature Center, Tilden Park. Bring a small pair of hand-clippers and a bag lunch if you wish to join the afternoon solstice hike at 2 p.m. 525-2233. 

Holiday Crafts Fair at the Berkeley Farmers’ Market with live music, hot lunches and a variety of handcrafted gifts, from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. at Civic Center Park, Center St. at MLK Jr. Way. 548-2220, ext. 227. www.ecologycenter.org 

Telegraph Avenue Holiday Street Fair with over 200 street artists, merchants, community groups and entertainment, Sat. and Sun. from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m. between Dwight and Bancroft. 234-1013. 

Temescal Holiday Skate and Stroll from 1 to 5 p.m. at the outdoor skating rink at 49th and Telegraph, Oakland. Cost is $3 for skating. 

Revolution Books Open House from 11 a.m. to 9 p.m. at 2425 Channing Way. 848-1196. 

Berkeley Open Studios Sat and Sun. from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m. through Dec. 21. 845-2612. www.berkeleyartisans.com 

“Paws and Claus” Santa visits the Oakland Zoo Sat. and Sun. from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. at 9777 Golf Links Rd., Oakland. 632-9525. www.oaklandzoo.org 

“Hanging Around” Create winter ornaments and decorations from 1 to 4 p.m. at Museum of Children’s Art, 538 Ninth St., Suite 210, Oakland. Cost is $7. 456-8770. www.mocha.org 

Edwardian Holidays Dunsmuir Hellman Historic Estate Weekends through Dec. 21 with costumed docents, festive trolley, live music, entertainment, cozy tea in the cottage, and Breakfast with Father Christmas, from 11 a.m. to 5 p.m. Cost is $7-$12. For reservations call 925-275-9490. www.dunsmuir.org  

Hanukkah Event with Latkes Sat.-Mon. from 11 a.m. to p.m. on the sidewalk in front of Saul's Delicatessen, 475 Shattuck Ave. Latkes are $2.25 or $27 per dozen. www.saulsdeli.com 

Pre-Winter Trash Clean-up of Ohlone Greenway from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. Meet on Moeser and the Ohlone Greenway, behind Safeway in El Cerrito. Wear jacket, long sleeves, pants and closed toe shoes. For information contact 215-4353. 

“I Sit and Stay” Survival guide for children with author Leah Waarvik at 2 p.m. at REI, 1338 San Pablo Ave. 527-4140. 

Tree of Life Qi Gong Workout at 10 a.m. at 2929 Summit St., Ste. 103, Oakland. Cost is $15. 253-8120. 

Free Garden Tours at Regional Parks Botanic Garden Sat. and Sun. at 2 pm. Regional Parks Botanic Garden, Tilden Park. Call to confirm. 841-8732.  

The Berkeley Lawn Bowling Club provides free instruction every Wed. and Sat. at 10:30 a.m. at 2270 Acton St. 841-2174.  

SUNDAY, DEC. 21 

Winter Solstice Celebration Learn the solstice’s cultural history on a short walk, then share seasonal stories, poems and music around the campfire from 1 to 4 p.m. at Tilden Nature Center, Tilden Park. For ages 5 and up. Cost is $6-$8. Registration required. 1-888-327-2757. 

Winter Solstice Gathering, led by Alan Gould, Lawrence Hall of Science, at 4:10 p.m. at the Interinm Solar Calendar, Cesar Chavez Park, Berkeley Marina. Dress warmly. www.solarcalendar.org 

Winter Solstice Labyrinth Walk from 6 to 8 p.m. at Willard Middle School, Telegraph Ave. between Derby and Stuart. Everyone welcome. Wheelchair accessible. 526-7377. info@eastbaylabyrinthproject.org  

Winter Solstice and Open Talent Show at 6 p.m. at The Deep Green Humanist Church, 390 27th St., Oakland. Free, bring healthy potluck food to share, donations welcome. 451-5818.  

Telegraph Avenue Holiday Street Fair with over 200 street artists, merchants, community groups and entertainment, from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m. between Dwight and Bancroft. 234-1013. 

Temescal Holiday Skate and Stroll from 1 to 5 p.m. at the outdoor skating rink at 49th and Telegraph, Oakland. Cost is $3 for skating. 

Test your Child’s Toys for Lead with the Center for Environmental Health from 12:30 to 3 p.m. at Berkeley Fellowship Hall, corner of Cedar and Bonita St. For information call 655-3900. www.ceh.org 

“Home Sweet Home” Build candy cottages and cookie castles from 1 to 4 p.m. at Museum of Children’s Art, 538 Ninth St., Suite 210, Oakland. Cost is $7. 456-8770. www.mocha.org 

Kol Hadash Bagel Brunch with Prof. Bernard Rosen on “Why I am Not an Atheist” at 10 a.m. at Albany Community Center, 1249 Marin, Albany. Suggested donation $5. 525-2296. Programs@kolhadash.org  

Community Multi-Traditional Holiday Sing-Along at 5 p.m. at GNC, 2138 Cedar St. www.downhomedancing.org 

Community Menorah Lighting at 4 p.m. at Bay Street Emeryville Mall, across from Barnes & Noble. 540-5824.  

Kehilla Chanukah Celebration at 4 p.m. at Kehilla Community Synagogue, 1300 Grand Ave., Piedmont. Tickets are $10. www.KehillaSynagogue.org  

“Spiritual Perspectives for Independent Thinkers in a World of Paradox” with Jeremy Taylor at 10 a.m. at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Berkeley, 1 Lawson Rd., Kensington. 525-0302, ext. 306. 

Free Garden Tours at Regional Parks Botanic Garden in Tilden Park Sat. and Sun. at 2 p.m. Call to confirm. 841-8732.  

Lake Merritt Neighbors Organized for Peace Peace walk around the lake every Sun. Meet at 3 p.m. at the colonnade at the NE end of the lake. 763-8712. lmno4p.org 

Berkeley Chess Club meets every Sun. at 7 p.m. at the Hillside School, 1581 Le Roy Ave. 843-0150. 

MONDAY, DEC. 22 

Christmas Caroling at 6 p.m. in front of Sweet Dreams, 2921 College Ave. Song sheets provided. 

Berkeley Potters Guild 38th Holiday Sale from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. at 73 Jones St. at Fourth St. www.berkeleypotters.com 

Berkeley CopWatch organizational meeting at 8 p.m. at 2022 Blake St. 548-0425. 

TUESDAY, DEC. 23 

Tuesdays for the Birds Tranquil bird walks in local parklands, led by Bethany Facendini, from 7 to 9:30 a.m. Today we will visit the Marina at Lake Chabot Regional Park. Call for meeting place and if you need to borrow binoculars. 525-2233. 

Telegraph Avenue Holiday Street Fair with over 200 street artists, merchants, community groups and entertainment, from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m.between Dwight and Bancroft. 234-1013. 

Red Cross Blood Drive from noon to 5 p.m. at Gelateria Naia, 2106 Shattuck Ave. To schedule an appointment go to www.BeADonor.com  

“The Barefoot Doctors of Rural China” A documentary at 7 p.m. at Revolution Books, 2425 Channing Way. 848-1196. 

Berkeley PC Problem Solving meeting at 7 p.m. at 1145 Walnut St. at Eunice.  

Family Storytime at 7 p.m. at Kensington Library, 61 Arlington Ave. 524-3043.  

Tuesday Tilden Walkers Join a few slowpoke seniors at 9:30 a.m. in the parking lot near the Little Farm for an hour or two walk. 215-7672, 524-9992. 

End the Occupation Vigil every Tues. at noon at Oakland Federal Bldg., 1301 Clay St. www.epicalc.org 

Street Level Cycles Community Bike Program Come use our tools as well as receive help with performing repairs free of charge. Youth classes available. Tues., Thurs., and Sat. from 2 to 6 p.m. at at 84 Bolivar Dr., Aquatic Park. 644-2577. www.watersideworkshops.org 

Boffers and Board Games from 3 to 5:30 p.m. at Codornices Park, 1201 Euclid Ave. across from the Rose Garden, or 33 Revolutions Record Shop & Cafe, 10086 San Pablo Ave., El Cerrito when bad weather. Free, but parental supervision required. 526-5985 

Berkeley Camera Club meets at 7:30 p.m., at the Northbrae Community Church, 941 The Alameda. Share your digital images, slides and prints and learn what other photographers are doing. Monthly field trips. 548-3991. www.berkeleycameraclub.org 

St. John’s Prime Timers meets at 9:30 a.m. at St. John’s Presbyterian Church, 2727 College Ave. We offer ongoing classes in exercise and creative arts, and always welcome new members over 50. 845-6830. 

Sing-A-Long Group from 2 to 3 p.m. at the Albany Senior Center, 846 Masonic Ave., Albany. 524-9122. 

Caribbean Rhythms Dance Class begins at 5:30 p.m. at Redwood Gardens, 2951 Derby St., and meets every Tues. eve. Donations accepted for Community Rhythms Scholarship Fund. 548-9840. 

Ceramics Class Learn hand building techniques to make decorative and functional items, Tues. at 9:30 a.m. at St. John's Senior Center, 2727 College Ave. Free, materials and firing charges only. 525-5497. 

WEDNESDAY, DEC. 24 

Telegraph Avenue Holiday Street Fair with over 200 street artists, merchants, community groups and entertainment, from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m.between Dwight and Bancroft. 234-1013. 

Berkeley Potters Guild 38th Holiday Sale from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. at 73 Jones St. at Fourth St. www.berkeleypotters.com 

Golden Gate Birding Walk at Lake Merritt and Lakeside Park. Meet at 9:30 a.m. at the large spherical cage near Nature Center at Perkins and Bellevue. 549-2839.  

SATURDAY, DEC. 27 

Mini-Farmers in Tilden A farm exploration program, from 10 to 11:30 a.m. for ages 4-6 years, accompanied by an adult. We will explore the Little Farm, care for animals, do crafts and farm chores. Wear boots and dress to get dirty! Fee is $6-$8. Registration required. 1-888-EBPARKS. 

“Ring in the New” Make noisemakers and party hats for New Years, Sat. and Sun. from 1 to 4 p.m. at Museum of Children’s Art, 538 Ninth St., Suite 210, Oakland. Cost is $7. 456-8770. www.mocha.org 

Close the Farm Help us close the Little Farm and tuck in the animals for the night, from 3:30 to 4:30 p.m. at Tilden Little Farm, Tilden Park. 525-2233. 

The Berkeley Lawn Bowling Club provides free instruction every Wed. and Sat. at 10:30 a.m. at 2270 Acton St. 841-2174.  

SUNDAY, DEC. 28 

“A Short History of Islam” A film by Karen Armstrong at 10 a.m. at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Berkeley, 1 Lawson Rd., Kensington. 525-0302, ext. 306. 

“What Would Steady State Economics Look Like?” with Sterling Bunnell at 11 a.m. at Humanist Hall, 390 27th St., Oakland. www.HumanistHall.org 

Family Restoration Day for families who care about the environment with interactive games and working in the park, from 2 to 3:30 p.m. at Tilden Nature Area, Tilden Park. Registration required. 1-888-327-2757. 

Winter Wanderland Hike Series An invigorating fast-paced hike from 10 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. This week we will visit Tilden Nature Area. Call for meeting place. Bring water, layered clothing and a snack to share. 525-2233. 

Nature Theater nature games, a movie, popcorn and cider for the whole family from 2 to 4 p.m. at Tilden Nature Center, Tilden Park. 525-2233. 

Lake Merritt Neighbors Organized for Peace Peace walk around the lake every Sun. Meet at 3 p.m. at the colonnade at the NE end of the lake. 763-8712. lmno4p.org 

Tibetan Buddhism with Sylvia Gretchen on “Healing Mind, Heart, and Spirit” at 6 p.m. at the Tibetan Nyingma Institute, 1815 Highland Pl. 809-1000. www.nyingmainstitute.com 

MONDAY, DEC. 29 

Kensington Library Book Club meets to discuss “The Reluctant Fundamentalist” by Mohsin Hamid at 7 p.m. at 61 Arlington Ave., Kensington. 524-3043. 

Red Cross Blood Drive from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. at the Albany YMCA, in the parking lot at 921 Kains Ave., Albany. To schedule an appointment go to www.BeADonor.com 

Berkeley CopWatch organizational meeting at 8 p.m. at 2022 Blake St. 548-0425. 

TUESDAY, DEC. 30 

Family Storytime at 7 p.m. at Kensington Library, 61 Arlington Ave. 524-3043.  

Tuesday Tilden Walkers Join a few slowpoke seniors at 9:30 a.m. in the parking lot near the Little Farm for an hour or two walk. 215-7672, 524-9992. 

End the Occupation Vigil every Tues. at noon at Oakland Federal Bldg., 1301 Clay St. www.epicalc.org 

Street Level Cycles Community Bike Program Come use our tools as well as receive help with performing repairs free of charge. Youth classes available. Tues., Thurs., and Sat. from 2 to 6 p.m. at at 84 Bolivar Dr., Aquatic Park. 644-2577. www.watersideworkshops.org 

Boffers and Board Games from 3 to 5:30 p.m. at Codornices Park, 1201 Euclid Ave. across from the Rose Garden, or 33 Revolutions Record Shop & Cafe, 10086 San Pablo Ave., El Cerrito when bad weather. Free, but parental supervision required. 526-5985 

Berkeley Camera Club meets at 7:30 p.m., at the Northbrae Community Church, 941 The Alameda. Share your digital images, slides and prints and learn what other photographers are doing. Monthly field trips. 548-3991. www.berkeleycameraclub.org 

St. John’s Prime Timers meets at 9:30 a.m. at St. John’s Presbyterian Church, 2727 College Ave. We always welcome new members over 50. 845-6830. 

Sing-A-Long Group from 2 to 3 p.m. at the Albany Senior Center, 846 Masonic Ave., Albany. 524-9122. 

WEDNESDAY, DEC. 31 

New Year’s Eve Onboard the USS Hornet with live music, dancing, and views of the Bay Area skyline, from 8 p.m. to 1 a.m. at 707 W. Hornet Ave., Pier 3, Alameda.Tickets are $50-$98. 521-8448, ext. 282. 

Walk Berkeley for Seniors meets every Wednesday at 9:30 a.m. at the Sea Breeze Market, just west of the I-80 overpass. Everyone is welcome, wear comfortable shoes and a warm hat. 548-9840. 

Theraputic Recreation at the Berkeley Warm Pool, Wed. at 3:30 p.m. and Sat. at 10 a.m. at the Berkeley Warm Pool, 2245 Milvia St. Cost is $4-$5. Bring a towel. 632-9369. 

Berkeley Peace Walk and Vigil at the corner of Shattuck and Center. Sing for Peace at 6:30 p.m. followed by Peace Walk at 7 p.m. www.geocities. 

com/vigil4peace/vigil 

Teen Chess Club from 3:30 to 5:30 p.m. at the North Branch Library, 1170 The Alameda at Hopkins. 981-6133. 

Morning Meditation Every Mon., Wed., and Fri. at 7:45 a.m. at Rudramandir, 830 Bancroft Way at 6th. 486-8700. 

Berkeley CopWatch Drop-in office hours from 6 to 8 p.m. at 2022 Blake St. 548-0425. 

Stitch ‘n Bitch at 6:30 p.m. at Caffe Trieste, 2500 San Pablo Ave., at Dwight. 548-5198.  

CITY MEETINGS 

Medical Cannabis Commission meets Thurs. Dec. 18 at 1:30 p.m. at City Hall, Cypress Room, 2180 Milvia. 981-7402. 

Design Review Committee meets Thurs., Dec. 18, at 7:30 p.m., at the North Berkeley Senior Center. 981-7415.  

ONGOING 

Help Low-wage Families with Their Taxes United Way’s Earn it! Keep It! Save It! needs Bay Area volunteers for its 7th annual free tax program. No previous experience necessary. Sign up at www.earnitkeepitsaveit.org