More About Writing; Writing Can Give You a Way – Especially Students – to Explore Who They Really Are and What They Want in Life – as It Did for this Remarkable Student at the Boys and Girls Club; It's a Window into the Soul -- This is Why I Urge Parents Working With Their Children Not To Worry About Spelling or Grammar First – But to Let the Writing Flow
Dear Readers:
When I first met this student, he was shy, awkwardly tall – because he wasn’t comfortable with his giant frame – and not giving himself much credit for anything.
(John – this is not his name, because he didn’t want his name used) didn’t seem to think he had any smarts and he was planted in a class of college bound students who were high achievers already. I asked for all the students to write down what they did for community service.
He couldn’t think of anything.
I asked the students to write down their strengths.
He couldn’t think of anything.
Finally, the girls in the class prodded him, with one asking about the shirt he was wearing – a Habitat for Humanity T-Shirt, because he had helped build homes for the non-profit. They also got him to confess that he volunteered in his church!
It took a bit of time for this student to discover he was also a writer – and it looks to me like a deep thinker. He gives the class a lot of credit here, but he should really credit himself because what he really learned is that he could write. When the writing flows, many answers can be discovered about oneself. In this exercise, I asked the students to write whatever came to mind for 15 minutes.
This is what he wrote:
“Going into this class for the first time, I felt uneasy at my ability and shy at having them accept or reject me based on their judgments.
I have changed.
I used to scoff at the idea of revealing myself to others, especially others who I see frequently or others who, even scarier, are my close friends.
I have changed a lot.
I didn’t want to look for a job or go to college or meet new people or talk in public because I hated rejection.
Now, at this point in my life, I fear not the trials and errors ahead of me. I fear not talking to unfamiliar people or speaking to others. I fear not rejection and failure as I had,so soon before, been immobilized by.
I have a job, and it’s helped me grow, both in my individuality and my social skills. I have grown not to fear failure or the resulting reprimands for it. I am changed so much now because of this class.
Writing to me used to be unfamiliar, and scary. But now, it is a way to express my true feelings and thoughts to others. It is somewhat impersonal but it is a start.
Writing to me is away to express my creative side in an environment that is in no way harmful to my self esteem or state of mind.
I can now tell someone what I think of them honestly, while not being mean or disheartening.
I have more confidence. I have higher self-esteem. I trust myself and put trust into others as well as myself.
I like writing. I knew I did when I was younger -- liked to write, liked to create, liked to draw. But that fervor diminished over the years by oppression of potential failure or the burden of embarrassment.
I know now to trust myself as person to do what is needed, and I am thankful that the class led me to this solid state.
Saturday, February 07, 2009
Sunday, February 01, 2009
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The Zany Zoe Strikes a Nerve with Literary Marketers Wanting Her to Review Their Clients Books! This is Not Such a Bad Way to Start a Writing Career for a 12-year-old Who Has a Real Zeal for Books and Writing and a Long Trail to Prove Her Worth Even Though She Still Considers Herself a Nerd
By Diana L. Chapman
The Zany Zoe Strikes a Nerve with Literary Marketers Wanting Her to Review Their Clients Books! This is Not Such a Bad Way to Start a Writing Career for a 12-year-old Who Has a Real Zeal for Books and Writing and a Long Trail to Prove Her Worth Even Though She Still Considers Herself a Nerd
By Diana L. Chapman
The day Zoe Alea Strickland got home from school and found two e-mails from publicists asking her to review their clients books, thrills ran up and down her spine and she told my niece, Wendy, who in turn emailed me.
This news shows me what I constantly tell kids – if you do something different, you find your niche and someone else notices – the sparks might fly and take you in a direction, one that was never even expected.
Zoe, a 12-year-old, admitted nerd who lives in Santa Rosa, reviews mostly young adult books on her blog: http://www.booksaregolden.blogspot.com/
“When I found the e-mail that they sent me, I was literally jumping around my room with joy,” Zoe e-mailed “I think it was possibly the best day I have had in 2009 so far. Then, when I got home after school there was another e-mail from a different publisher, that sent me the summary of a book that is going to be published soon, and they asked if I wanted to review it.”
What makes this story great to me is the peculiar thing about Zoe. For a long time, she disliked books. She read here and there and when she had too, but she hadn’t found much she cherished or looked forward to in print.
And then the Harry Potter series rolled out and it seems – like thousands of other kids across the globe -- Zoe not only began to read, she became obsessed with reading. And that’s what happened to Zoe who hasn’t put down books ever since.
“Just the thought that there may be other books out that are as good as Harry Potter amazed me,” she explained, which took this read-headed, curly-haired kid on a different course “and there will always be a special place in my literary heart for them.”
The difference, however, between her and other pre and mid-teenagers is she decided to review what she read by establishing a blog. It didn’t matter to her that she was only 12 or may not have enough of that “literary experience” some publishers would require.
Besides guts, what she does have – and that puts her ahead of everyone else – is that she can give ideas for reading to other youth and inform parents on how a younger person might react to a book. Also, unlike many teenagers, she reads obsessively which allows her to do this job.
“When I read a book, I get sucked into the book’s world, and I am so overwhelmed with the world that I am in and seeing that I am doing something, though it may be fictional. Books are also a way for me to escape from things that are going on in my life that seem stressful and a little overwhelming.”
Her top books are both “wonderfully,” written by John Green: Paper Towns and Looking for Alaska. Although Green writes more for high school students, she wrote me, “he puts a lot of thought into his books.” Of course the J.K. Rowling comes next and four on her list is: “I Am the Messenger,” by Markus Zusak.
In 2008, Zoe read 106 books; this year, she’s challenging herself to read 300. And yes, she does write herself and has some works in process that she’s just “letting unravel.” Her audience for her blog is currently her most special audience, “ultimately I write for people who want to read my opinions, because to me, those people mean a lot.”
In 2008, Zoe read 106 books; this year, she’s challenging herself to read 300. And yes, she does write herself and has some works in process that she’s just “letting unravel.” Her audience for her blog is currently her most special audience, “ultimately I write for people who want to read my opinions, because to me, those people mean a lot.”
Saturday, January 31, 2009
San Pedro AP English Teacher Goes the Extra Mile for her Students to Help Them Write;
This Teacher Comes Up High on My Ratings as She Understood Exactly the Extra Push Needed to Improve Her Student’s Writing; Writing Tips for You and Your Child
“Where to begin…I hate writing…To most people, it comes easy and it’s a way to vent and express yourself, but as for me, it’s much different. There are so many thoughts running through my head, but as soon as I see that blank white paper, they all evaporate and I don’t know where….
“After a couple of paragraphs of writing, I get lost and end up not having anything to write about. (Like right now…) – San Pedro Student, 11th grade
By Diana L. Chapman
The high school English teacher, towing her niece in hand, showed up at the Boys and Girls Club one dusty-orange evening in December.
She was on a hunt.
She was on a hunt for me.
What drove Heidie Hoffman, an English instructor at San Pedro High, to show up was the next-to-overnight change she spotted in one of her students when it came to his writing. She was explaining this to me as her niece clung to her wrist in the backdrop of the teen center where hip-hop blares and teenagers shout loudly.
This student, she said, was writing as he never had before. He told her some volunteer woman at the club had taught him how to wrap his mind around writing. “So I had to find you,” she rounded off succinctly.
Wow! I was looking at Ms. Hoffman and thinking, here is a teacher who has gone out of her way to find other avenues to supplement her student’s writing skills. It’s after school hours. We’re into the early night time and here she stood taking her personal time to find me.
I was so glad she did! Over the past 30 years, I’ve learned so much about writing and all it’s pitfalls – not to mention the times it seemed like I endured an absolute torturous, roller coaster ride. From that a mission arrived.
I wanted to rid myself of my love-and-hate relationship with writing and come to cherish it.
And still…be creative.
And still be a good writer.
Discovering the joy –instead of the pain of writing -- took me a long, long time. I had to come up with my bag of tricks to embrace writing fully and once I realized my discovery, it seemed this sense of liberation needed to be shared – especially with students who I watched slave away at the skill – many coming sadly to despise it.
Once, students visited my workshop, many left with a sense of freedom that they too can write, not a bad tool to have as its one of the most powerful on Earth. It’s sparked revolutions and taken us to worlds that don’t even exist. And at times, it’s changed society’s behavior.
So why can we not give this remarkable tool to all students?
Because it’s hard.
The English language is difficult at best.
Learning grammar, punctuation, spelling and sentence structure can be a jumble for some students. Now add in, adverbs, declarative sentences, imperative sentences, interjections, adverbial conjunctions, interrogative pronouns, indefinite pronouns, subjects, predicates, simple sentences, compound sentences.
Feel overwhelmed yet? Feel less than creative? Feel lost?
Even though I’ve learned all this in the past, I’ve forgotten much of it myself and where do I go as a writer to double check? Of course to an English teacher. This is exactly what I ask all my students do when they are finished with their first or second drafts.
My job is to “supplement” their writing tools and encourage them to learn the joy of writing. Here are some simple writing tips that I’m currently compiling in a book, The Seven Golden Secrets to Writing That Your Teacher Never Taught You:
--Writing can’t be perfect on the first round, second round or even the third.
We strive for it after we get the ideas down on paper. To this day, I’ve never seen an example of perfect writing. The best writers can often be sloppy and have glitches. They go back and refine, polish and massage their writing. One of my students wrote how much she loved art, because “it starts with a single line.” So does writing. Start with one line and go from there.
--To write, tapping into your creative brain must happen.
Your mind – your very own computer – will do all the work for you – that is, if you let it. If you feel tortured when you write, I can assure you, your poor reader on the other end will be too. So get comfortable and let it flow. Quit thinking. Stop worrying about spelling and grammar. That can come later. Let whatever comes to mind flow out and then go back and look for the gems you’ve unearthed.
--Writing is subjective.
Where one reader won’t enjoy a book, thousands of others out there will. The voice appeals to them. This recently happened in my own family. Our son wrote a remarkable piece for his English class at the Port of Los Angeles High School. As seasoned writers, we both were so impressed we gushed all over it and told him how proud we were. This apparently made him feel good about his writing, he said, because we rarely complimented him on it.
But he got a C on the paper. Does it matter? Not really. Other readers will like it and he’s still developing writing skills.
There are so many ways to turn on the joy of writing and I can’t possibly share them all here. But just start with this: Sit down, take out a pen and write. Start with a single line as this 11th grade student did at the top of this story: “Where to begin…
After speaking to the above student’s class – due to the English teacher’s visit – I believe that she learned something extremely important that day. She can write.
This Teacher Comes Up High on My Ratings as She Understood Exactly the Extra Push Needed to Improve Her Student’s Writing; Writing Tips for You and Your Child
“Where to begin…I hate writing…To most people, it comes easy and it’s a way to vent and express yourself, but as for me, it’s much different. There are so many thoughts running through my head, but as soon as I see that blank white paper, they all evaporate and I don’t know where….
“After a couple of paragraphs of writing, I get lost and end up not having anything to write about. (Like right now…) – San Pedro Student, 11th grade
By Diana L. Chapman
The high school English teacher, towing her niece in hand, showed up at the Boys and Girls Club one dusty-orange evening in December.
She was on a hunt.
She was on a hunt for me.
What drove Heidie Hoffman, an English instructor at San Pedro High, to show up was the next-to-overnight change she spotted in one of her students when it came to his writing. She was explaining this to me as her niece clung to her wrist in the backdrop of the teen center where hip-hop blares and teenagers shout loudly.
This student, she said, was writing as he never had before. He told her some volunteer woman at the club had taught him how to wrap his mind around writing. “So I had to find you,” she rounded off succinctly.
Wow! I was looking at Ms. Hoffman and thinking, here is a teacher who has gone out of her way to find other avenues to supplement her student’s writing skills. It’s after school hours. We’re into the early night time and here she stood taking her personal time to find me.
I was so glad she did! Over the past 30 years, I’ve learned so much about writing and all it’s pitfalls – not to mention the times it seemed like I endured an absolute torturous, roller coaster ride. From that a mission arrived.
I wanted to rid myself of my love-and-hate relationship with writing and come to cherish it.
And still…be creative.
And still be a good writer.
Discovering the joy –instead of the pain of writing -- took me a long, long time. I had to come up with my bag of tricks to embrace writing fully and once I realized my discovery, it seemed this sense of liberation needed to be shared – especially with students who I watched slave away at the skill – many coming sadly to despise it.
Once, students visited my workshop, many left with a sense of freedom that they too can write, not a bad tool to have as its one of the most powerful on Earth. It’s sparked revolutions and taken us to worlds that don’t even exist. And at times, it’s changed society’s behavior.
So why can we not give this remarkable tool to all students?
Because it’s hard.
The English language is difficult at best.
Learning grammar, punctuation, spelling and sentence structure can be a jumble for some students. Now add in, adverbs, declarative sentences, imperative sentences, interjections, adverbial conjunctions, interrogative pronouns, indefinite pronouns, subjects, predicates, simple sentences, compound sentences.
Feel overwhelmed yet? Feel less than creative? Feel lost?
Even though I’ve learned all this in the past, I’ve forgotten much of it myself and where do I go as a writer to double check? Of course to an English teacher. This is exactly what I ask all my students do when they are finished with their first or second drafts.
My job is to “supplement” their writing tools and encourage them to learn the joy of writing. Here are some simple writing tips that I’m currently compiling in a book, The Seven Golden Secrets to Writing That Your Teacher Never Taught You:
--Writing can’t be perfect on the first round, second round or even the third.
We strive for it after we get the ideas down on paper. To this day, I’ve never seen an example of perfect writing. The best writers can often be sloppy and have glitches. They go back and refine, polish and massage their writing. One of my students wrote how much she loved art, because “it starts with a single line.” So does writing. Start with one line and go from there.
--To write, tapping into your creative brain must happen.
Your mind – your very own computer – will do all the work for you – that is, if you let it. If you feel tortured when you write, I can assure you, your poor reader on the other end will be too. So get comfortable and let it flow. Quit thinking. Stop worrying about spelling and grammar. That can come later. Let whatever comes to mind flow out and then go back and look for the gems you’ve unearthed.
--Writing is subjective.
Where one reader won’t enjoy a book, thousands of others out there will. The voice appeals to them. This recently happened in my own family. Our son wrote a remarkable piece for his English class at the Port of Los Angeles High School. As seasoned writers, we both were so impressed we gushed all over it and told him how proud we were. This apparently made him feel good about his writing, he said, because we rarely complimented him on it.
But he got a C on the paper. Does it matter? Not really. Other readers will like it and he’s still developing writing skills.
There are so many ways to turn on the joy of writing and I can’t possibly share them all here. But just start with this: Sit down, take out a pen and write. Start with a single line as this 11th grade student did at the top of this story: “Where to begin…
After speaking to the above student’s class – due to the English teacher’s visit – I believe that she learned something extremely important that day. She can write.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
MARINE MAMMAL CARE CENTER NEEDS YOU; TOAST YOUR SWEETIE and PROVIDE 'TLC' FOR MARINE MAMMAL REHABILITATION & YOU CAN EVEN BRING THE KIDS
The Corner Store, San Pedro, Will Be Hosting A Wine, Hummus And Soda Tasting To Benefit The Veterinary Program At The Marine Mammal Care Center At Fort MacArthur
WHEN: Saturday, February 7
WHO: The Marine Mammal Care Center at Fort MacArthur began
operation in 1992. The Care Center is the only federally authorized hospital for sick, injured and orphaned marine mammals in Los Angeles County. To date the animal care team has treated over 3,000 marine mammals. MARRNE (Marine Animal Rescue, Rehabilitation and Release into the Natural Environment) is the Care Center's 501(c)(3) support organization that formed
in 1993 to help provide additional funding for food, medicine, equipment,
capital projects and special needs. Its mission is to support marine animal rehabilitation and non-invasive research along the southern California coast.
THE NEED: The Veterinary Program has enhanced the success of the Care Center's animal rehabilitation. YOUR funding support will allow this program to continue into the future!
WHAT: The Corner Store, San Pedro will be hosting a "Wine, Hummus and Soda Tasting" to support the Veterinary Program at the Marine Mammal Care Center at Fort MacArthur. The tasting will be held in a tented area and will include a variety of red, white and sparkling wines in addition to butlered hors d'oeuvres. There's something for the kids too, and those who choose not to "dabble" in wine. Inside, there will be a selection of specialty sodas to sample. It's
a fantastic way to celebrate Valentines Day. A great selection of spirits available for purchase following the event AND other items such as weekend getaways that will be part of a specia> Opportunity Drawing!
The Corner Store is located 1118 W. 37th Street, San Pedro, CA 90731 (310) 832-2424 and will host this event Saturday, February 7, 2009. Three will be three tasting times: 1-2pm, 2:30-3:30pm, 4-5pm
DONATION: $15.00 per person. Space is limited! Make your reservations ASAP. Please contact Jill Romano at 310.548.5677 for event details and reservation information or stop by The Corner Store in San Pedro to register.
The Corner Store, San Pedro, Will Be Hosting A Wine, Hummus And Soda Tasting To Benefit The Veterinary Program At The Marine Mammal Care Center At Fort MacArthur
WHEN: Saturday, February 7
WHO: The Marine Mammal Care Center at Fort MacArthur began
operation in 1992. The Care Center is the only federally authorized hospital for sick, injured and orphaned marine mammals in Los Angeles County. To date the animal care team has treated over 3,000 marine mammals. MARRNE (Marine Animal Rescue, Rehabilitation and Release into the Natural Environment) is the Care Center's 501(c)(3) support organization that formed
in 1993 to help provide additional funding for food, medicine, equipment,
capital projects and special needs. Its mission is to support marine animal rehabilitation and non-invasive research along the southern California coast.
THE NEED: The Veterinary Program has enhanced the success of the Care Center's animal rehabilitation. YOUR funding support will allow this program to continue into the future!
WHAT: The Corner Store, San Pedro will be hosting a "Wine, Hummus and Soda Tasting" to support the Veterinary Program at the Marine Mammal Care Center at Fort MacArthur. The tasting will be held in a tented area and will include a variety of red, white and sparkling wines in addition to butlered hors d'oeuvres. There's something for the kids too, and those who choose not to "dabble" in wine. Inside, there will be a selection of specialty sodas to sample. It's
a fantastic way to celebrate Valentines Day. A great selection of spirits available for purchase following the event AND other items such as weekend getaways that will be part of a specia> Opportunity Drawing!
The Corner Store is located 1118 W. 37th Street, San Pedro, CA 90731 (310) 832-2424 and will host this event Saturday, February 7, 2009. Three will be three tasting times: 1-2pm, 2:30-3:30pm, 4-5pm
DONATION: $15.00 per person. Space is limited! Make your reservations ASAP. Please contact Jill Romano at 310.548.5677 for event details and reservation information or stop by The Corner Store in San Pedro to register.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
DON’T MISS GRAN TORINO; NOT ONLY IS IT CLINT’S BEST IN MY BOOK, THE LESSONS ARE INVALUABLE AND YES, EVEN AN OLD DOG CAN LEARN NEW TRICKS; THAT INCLUDES YOU AND MEBy Diana L. Chapman
As a mother, I never thought I’d push my 14-year-old son to see not only a Clint Eastwood flick, but an “R” rated one at that.
I’d been hankering to see “Gran Torino,” the latest film featuring Eastwood as director and actor, since my girlfriend, Kim, told me she thought I’d enjoy it. But my husband declined my offer for three weekends in a row. He’d seen a preview and wondered if it was just another tired old story about violent gangs.
But like Clint, this flick is anything but tired and old. Although he’s 78, he has been churning out his boldest, brightest and most thought-provoking works in his golden years (“Unforgiven,” “Million Dollar Baby” and “Mystic River.”)
Who knew that the gorgeous, deadly cowboy/detective with pistol in hand, delivering memorable lines like “Go ahead, make my day,” could turn out socially conscious movies that question our own behavior – and do so with humor?
In “Torino,” Clint plays an angry and bitter Walt Kowalski, a Korean War veteran who hates about everything in life except for his wife and his dog. His wife has just died as the film opens. He’s left with two sons with whom he has little in common and some self-centered grandchildren who only want to know what Grandpa will do with his sleek Gran Torino when he dies.
In other words, they really don’t care about him. It appears he hasn’t done much to make them want to.
As a sour, wallow-in-my-racist-attitudes, foul-mouthed kind of guy, Walt continues to live in his deteriorating Detroit neighborhood that is occupied by more and more Asians. He lives with many ghosts from the war and doesn’t have a kind word for anybody.
When an extended Asian family moves in next-door, Walt is left spitting – literally.
But don’t worry. The grandma next-door can spit even further than Walt can. And there’s a lot more surprises to come.
The learning comes after Walt daringly saves the next-door family’s teen-age boy from violent gang members but has no interest in their gifts and gratitude. But they keep coming anyway, slowly stripping away some of his hate, and making him look around him for the first time in decades.
I don’t want to give away too much, so I’ll leave it at that. Let me put it this way: The film challenges our point of view by making us uncomfortable about spending time in another—vastly different culture -- and clarifies a point to society that oddly Clint but most others don’t get -- it’s not easy for teenagers surrounded by gangs to stay out of that dangerous mix. They get sucked in by the violence they are threatened with.
And don’t miss the young freckle-faced priest on a relentless mission to get Walt to go to confession. Acting on a request from Walt’s dying wife, he becomes a thorn in his side, even showing up at the bar where the veteran hangs out with his buddies.
Humor. Heartache. Discomfort. Learning about life, as the priest would say, grabbed my husband’s attention when he finally went to see it. He enjoyed it as much as I did and now we are just waiting for our son to see it – even if it is R-rated (for language and some violence).
Some movies are just too important to miss.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
WHY THE BLOG HAS BEEN SILENT FOR AWHILE AND WILL BE UP AND RUNNING SOON WITH A REVIEW OF THINK PRIME; FINALLY I’M WRITING THAT LONG DREAMED OF NOVEL AND A BOOK ABOUT THE SECRETS OF WRITING – FIGHTING BACK MY OWN FEARS
By Diana L. Chapman
I admit it.
I’ve taken time off -- a lot of time off the underdogforkidsblog. I kept up with writing this way and wanted to let people know what’s going on out there about kids.
But then an acquaintance of mine mentioned in October: “Did you know that November is novel writing month?”
No. I had no clue. What’s that about? I asked.
It turns out there’s a non-profit out there with a weird name, NANO, that encourages people like me to finally write that long lost novel that many of us writers dream about, but never do. The plan: write a 50,000 word novella in the month of November.
Since I was a kid and reading was my life and then a tea leaf reading fortune teller told me I would be a writer, I knew that it was true. But fear is a big factor in career making-decisions and I was petrified that I couldn’t do it. So I became a journalist to make sure I could write – but get a paycheck to boot.
Many writers struggle and never make it. Going in I knew that, and becoming a newspaper reporter, made much more sense financially. You knew you’d get paid!
As the months slipped by, then years, I finally realized in my lifetime I was never going to write that novel. In fact, I had given up. I had an underlying fear that I couldn’t do it anyway so it was easier just to delay the process rather than work toward finding out if I had the “right stuff.”
In my computer are the beginning births of many books, that have sat long and tiredly and have fermented away, forever it seems. But then two years ago, I knew I had an idea that was a winner. I started writing it, but never finished.
One day, my son was perusing the computer and found the book: “The Eight Levels of Life” and he marched out and said: “Mom this is the best thing you have ever written in your life.”
I knew it was true. But it still sat there. And sat there. And sat there. My fears mounted up.
I was afraid it wouldn’t get published. I was afraid I couldn’t write a novel. If you don’t do it, then you don’t have to find out – do you! It didn’t even seem to matter that I had gathered so many more secrets about writing – that I had learned to come to love the art that once tortured me – over all these years.
It didn’t matter that I had volunteered to teach scores of students how to open up their souls to writing. It didn’t matter that I knew shortcuts, ways to become passionate about your work and paths to nurse your brain – your own computer – to work for you.
So when this came up, I gasped because it seemed this novel writing thing had been meant for me. It gave me a deadline – the end of November, because after all, newspaper journalists work better with deadlines.
I started in November and by the end, I had filed 50,000 plus words and had the first workings of a book.
Is it perfect? Not even close. I’m giving myself January to rewrite the “Eight Levels of Life,” but then what popped out next was another book, “The Seven Golden Secrets to Writing that Your Teacher Never Taught You.”
I’ve been bouncing between those two books ever since, because I discovered something. It’s kind of cool to live in a fantasy world where all the problems are not your problems – but other characters – and finally you are sharing your secrets that could help others stem their writing woes and help them excel into waves of good words.
So if you have the itch to write, but you or your child need the push, check out this site: www.nanowrimo.org. Please pass this on. It also has a young writer’s program.
So there you have it. Now, you can go write that novel too!
By Diana L. Chapman
I admit it.
I’ve taken time off -- a lot of time off the underdogforkidsblog. I kept up with writing this way and wanted to let people know what’s going on out there about kids.
But then an acquaintance of mine mentioned in October: “Did you know that November is novel writing month?”
No. I had no clue. What’s that about? I asked.
It turns out there’s a non-profit out there with a weird name, NANO, that encourages people like me to finally write that long lost novel that many of us writers dream about, but never do. The plan: write a 50,000 word novella in the month of November.
Since I was a kid and reading was my life and then a tea leaf reading fortune teller told me I would be a writer, I knew that it was true. But fear is a big factor in career making-decisions and I was petrified that I couldn’t do it. So I became a journalist to make sure I could write – but get a paycheck to boot.
Many writers struggle and never make it. Going in I knew that, and becoming a newspaper reporter, made much more sense financially. You knew you’d get paid!
As the months slipped by, then years, I finally realized in my lifetime I was never going to write that novel. In fact, I had given up. I had an underlying fear that I couldn’t do it anyway so it was easier just to delay the process rather than work toward finding out if I had the “right stuff.”
In my computer are the beginning births of many books, that have sat long and tiredly and have fermented away, forever it seems. But then two years ago, I knew I had an idea that was a winner. I started writing it, but never finished.
One day, my son was perusing the computer and found the book: “The Eight Levels of Life” and he marched out and said: “Mom this is the best thing you have ever written in your life.”
I knew it was true. But it still sat there. And sat there. And sat there. My fears mounted up.
I was afraid it wouldn’t get published. I was afraid I couldn’t write a novel. If you don’t do it, then you don’t have to find out – do you! It didn’t even seem to matter that I had gathered so many more secrets about writing – that I had learned to come to love the art that once tortured me – over all these years.
It didn’t matter that I had volunteered to teach scores of students how to open up their souls to writing. It didn’t matter that I knew shortcuts, ways to become passionate about your work and paths to nurse your brain – your own computer – to work for you.
So when this came up, I gasped because it seemed this novel writing thing had been meant for me. It gave me a deadline – the end of November, because after all, newspaper journalists work better with deadlines.
I started in November and by the end, I had filed 50,000 plus words and had the first workings of a book.
Is it perfect? Not even close. I’m giving myself January to rewrite the “Eight Levels of Life,” but then what popped out next was another book, “The Seven Golden Secrets to Writing that Your Teacher Never Taught You.”
I’ve been bouncing between those two books ever since, because I discovered something. It’s kind of cool to live in a fantasy world where all the problems are not your problems – but other characters – and finally you are sharing your secrets that could help others stem their writing woes and help them excel into waves of good words.
So if you have the itch to write, but you or your child need the push, check out this site: www.nanowrimo.org. Please pass this on. It also has a young writer’s program.
So there you have it. Now, you can go write that novel too!
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Missing "Peanut" Gets My Readers Rolling; Please See If You Can Help Out And Keep Your Eyes Peeled Wide for this Little 3-year-old Who Disappeared Two Years Ago in North Dakota
It's one of those things once again your friends send you over the internet. This tiny imp of a girl has been missing for two years and the man she was believed to be with has died. Since his death, police don't have any leads as to where she might be.
The girl was taken from her bedroom after she was put to be about 10:30 p.m. on May 16, 2006.
There are few clues to the where abouts of Reachelle Marie Smith, who was born Sept. 10, 2002. After she vanished, she was allegedly was seen in the company of Leigh Cowan, 22, who was later found dead in a van from an alleged suicide.
For more information about her story, visit:
http://www.amw.com/missing_children/case.cfm?id=38883
Pass this on.
Have you seen this child?
BUY SOME TASTY INAUGURATION TREATS AND SUPPORT TWO LOCAL BUSINESSES WHILE YOU ARE AT IT DURING THESE ROUGH ECONOMIC TIMESThere could be no better way to celebrate incoming U.S. President Barack Obama by supporting two of our local businesses, one just starting out and the other working its way through the nation’s struggling economy. It’s the type of thing I bet Barack would want us to do.
Italian Cuppacakes, run by local gal Rose Cigliano, and one of my favorite places to eat, Nosh, have teamed up in many ways – but are starting our New Year with a bright American flag style cupcake coming in three flavors: Chocolate with butter cream frosting, chocolate with cream cheese frosting and red velvet with cream cheese frosting.
“On Tuesday, January 20th, the United States of America will be sworn in our 44th President, Barack Obama,” a delighted Rose emailed me. “This celebration will take place at noon and throughout the day, people will be celebrating the new change we have all been waiting for. What can be more exciting than celebrating with an Inauguration Cupcake made by Cuppacakes!
“Bring them to work, or celebrate with your family and enjoy eating a cupcake as you see a history being made!”
An order of at least a dozen cupcakes of the same kind is necessary to order.
The cupcakes can be ordered through Rose at http://www.italiancuppacakes.com/ (310) 707-3541. All orders can be picked up at the eatery, located at 617 South Centre Street, San Pedro.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
LOS ANGELES COUNCILWOMAN JANICE HAHN ONCE SAID LET THERE BE GOATS, BUT THERE ARE STILL NO GOATS AND A SURVEY OF HARBOR AREA RESIDENTS PARK LAND NEEDS JUST DON'T FIT THE BILL
By Diana L. Chapman
My old buddy, Ray Patricio, called me piping hot mad just the other day. And I can’t blame him. It was just one of the many peculiar things the city of Los Angeles Recreation and Parks does to upset and discourage people.
This time Ray’s anger stemmed from the ludicrous survey the department sent to the Harbor area residents residents asking what they wanted in their parks…probably a first in the history of mankind, I might add.
Because the truth is – they don’t really care what the residents want.
The results, released this week, turned out to be nothing that the community of San Pedro has been screaming for, but rather a water-down, diluted version of requests for walking, biking and nature trails, small neighborhood parks and pools – outdoor or indoor.
What happened to the ball fields? What happened to the skate park? What happened to the dog park? Those had been pretty well scrubbed down to the bottom of a list of 30 things Harbor area residents want. And most of all – what happened to Ray’s goats to clean up Peck Park Canyon, a campaign he’s waged for what seems an eternity and got the backing of Los Angeles Councilwoman Janice Hahn and hundreds of residents.
Here is my question to Recreation and Parks: If they do care, might they have not noticed the Harbor Area has at least four separate communities, Harbor City, Harbor Gateway, Wilmington and San Pedro – all of which have different needs, desires and identities.
Using the one-size-fits all plan was what Los Angeles Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa marched around accusing the Los Angeles Unified School District of doing. He must not have looked in his own backyard, because this is something Los Angeles does everyday – and in particular, Recreation and Parks.
Years back, city officials produced what were called park community advisory boards, designed to ease the uneasy feelings that residents didn’t have much to say about their park lands. The boards cropped up across the city with residents excitedly thinking they could make great changes.
Instead, what I’ve gleaned from serving on a park advisory board – and talking to members of many others – is that the department really doesn’t take the boards too seriously. Here are the three schools of thought from park advisers I have heard repeatedly.
--It’s so difficult to get anything done, even as small getting a park bench, that it turns into a frustrating odyssey and after years of quibbling – perhaps officials produce a bench.
--The constant joke among volunteers is: They wait you out, so finally you give up or leave or in some cases, die.
--To get anything done, you almost have to turn your whole life into that one cause and become a Joan of Arc – or else it will never happen.
While I thought we paid recreation and parks to be visionaries, it turns out they can’t get of their own boxes and the residents have to step up to show the city what it needs. It took long, not such pretty battles to get the dog park and to have the pool at Peck refurbished and turned into a year-round facility.
To get what they needed, the kids had to take matters in their own hands and build a bootleg skateboard park down in a vacant lot below the 110 Freeway. That happened despite that Peck advisers would have voted for such a facility in a heartbeat.
In the meantime, tiny towns like Napa – and even Ensenada in Baja – assembled skate board parks to address the crews of kids that were once riding the streets, using parking lots and school campuses.
When an idea crops up – no matter how remarkable – it seems we pay the staff to form a battle plan and use the words “no” as often as possible.
What also happens is that many of us discovered the hard way that even our councilwoman – who endorsed Ray’s goats-- wields little power when dealing with the bureaucratic, inbred bunch. With two term limits, it was easy to wait the council office out as well.
This might change with the new measure that will allow council members to run for a third, four-year term.
It makes me sad that for years, Ray has lobbied, screamed, yelped called everyone he knew on this planet to ask the city to allow for a small animal ranch at the park to symbolize the old and historic Hernandez ranch that was there for decades.
As a compromise, he finally settled on just bringing in goats to graze the canyon, clean it up and keep it from becoming a fire hazard. This is his swan song to make this canyon, a thriving come-to-life-park, where families could walk the trails and kids could see the animals -- rather than a bunch of dead trails and scrub.
Finally, the city agreed to let in the goats in for a short period of time. I guess it must have been too successful, because the residents flocked from all over, dragging their kids, just to watch something we’ve lost long ago – animals grazing.
It showed that Ray was right – a huge need exists to educate kids how animals operate – and it makes so much sense.
The trouble is: it just makes too much sense for Recreation and Parks.
By Diana L. Chapman
My old buddy, Ray Patricio, called me piping hot mad just the other day. And I can’t blame him. It was just one of the many peculiar things the city of Los Angeles Recreation and Parks does to upset and discourage people.
This time Ray’s anger stemmed from the ludicrous survey the department sent to the Harbor area residents residents asking what they wanted in their parks…probably a first in the history of mankind, I might add.
Because the truth is – they don’t really care what the residents want.
The results, released this week, turned out to be nothing that the community of San Pedro has been screaming for, but rather a water-down, diluted version of requests for walking, biking and nature trails, small neighborhood parks and pools – outdoor or indoor.
What happened to the ball fields? What happened to the skate park? What happened to the dog park? Those had been pretty well scrubbed down to the bottom of a list of 30 things Harbor area residents want. And most of all – what happened to Ray’s goats to clean up Peck Park Canyon, a campaign he’s waged for what seems an eternity and got the backing of Los Angeles Councilwoman Janice Hahn and hundreds of residents.
Here is my question to Recreation and Parks: If they do care, might they have not noticed the Harbor Area has at least four separate communities, Harbor City, Harbor Gateway, Wilmington and San Pedro – all of which have different needs, desires and identities.
Using the one-size-fits all plan was what Los Angeles Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa marched around accusing the Los Angeles Unified School District of doing. He must not have looked in his own backyard, because this is something Los Angeles does everyday – and in particular, Recreation and Parks.
Years back, city officials produced what were called park community advisory boards, designed to ease the uneasy feelings that residents didn’t have much to say about their park lands. The boards cropped up across the city with residents excitedly thinking they could make great changes.
Instead, what I’ve gleaned from serving on a park advisory board – and talking to members of many others – is that the department really doesn’t take the boards too seriously. Here are the three schools of thought from park advisers I have heard repeatedly.
--It’s so difficult to get anything done, even as small getting a park bench, that it turns into a frustrating odyssey and after years of quibbling – perhaps officials produce a bench.
--The constant joke among volunteers is: They wait you out, so finally you give up or leave or in some cases, die.
--To get anything done, you almost have to turn your whole life into that one cause and become a Joan of Arc – or else it will never happen.
While I thought we paid recreation and parks to be visionaries, it turns out they can’t get of their own boxes and the residents have to step up to show the city what it needs. It took long, not such pretty battles to get the dog park and to have the pool at Peck refurbished and turned into a year-round facility.
To get what they needed, the kids had to take matters in their own hands and build a bootleg skateboard park down in a vacant lot below the 110 Freeway. That happened despite that Peck advisers would have voted for such a facility in a heartbeat.
In the meantime, tiny towns like Napa – and even Ensenada in Baja – assembled skate board parks to address the crews of kids that were once riding the streets, using parking lots and school campuses.
When an idea crops up – no matter how remarkable – it seems we pay the staff to form a battle plan and use the words “no” as often as possible.
What also happens is that many of us discovered the hard way that even our councilwoman – who endorsed Ray’s goats-- wields little power when dealing with the bureaucratic, inbred bunch. With two term limits, it was easy to wait the council office out as well.
This might change with the new measure that will allow council members to run for a third, four-year term.
It makes me sad that for years, Ray has lobbied, screamed, yelped called everyone he knew on this planet to ask the city to allow for a small animal ranch at the park to symbolize the old and historic Hernandez ranch that was there for decades.
As a compromise, he finally settled on just bringing in goats to graze the canyon, clean it up and keep it from becoming a fire hazard. This is his swan song to make this canyon, a thriving come-to-life-park, where families could walk the trails and kids could see the animals -- rather than a bunch of dead trails and scrub.
Finally, the city agreed to let in the goats in for a short period of time. I guess it must have been too successful, because the residents flocked from all over, dragging their kids, just to watch something we’ve lost long ago – animals grazing.
It showed that Ray was right – a huge need exists to educate kids how animals operate – and it makes so much sense.
The trouble is: it just makes too much sense for Recreation and Parks.
THE RELEVANT STAGE PRESENTS THE SMASH OFF-BROADWAY HIT:
I LOVE YOU, YOU'RE PERFECT, NOW CHANGE TO PLAY AT THE WARNER GRAND THIS FEBRUARY:
I LOVE YOU, YOU'RE PERFECT, NOW CHANGE TO PLAY AT THE WARNER GRAND THIS FEBRUARY:
--Submitted by the Relevant Stage
You've seen the musicals about felines, cross-dressing nuns, teapots and candlesticks, old French flags, helicopters, flying pigs, singing murderesses, falling chandeliers, and lousy navigation through an ice field.
Now, at long last, "I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change" exposes everything you've secretly thought about dating, mating, and romance but were afraid to admit. The Relevant Stage's upcoming production of this hit musical will take you on a joyride through the jungle of the modern-day suburban mating game. Run dates are Feb. 13 to Feb. 22.
A free Champagne Intermission is offered to love birds who attend our special Valentine's Night performance on February 14 at 8PM.
Please be aware this is rated PG-13 due to some adult content
Warner Grand Theatre 600 W. 6th St., San Pedro, CA 90731
WGT is a facility of the City of Los Angeles Department of Cultural Affairs
Regular Ticket prices are: $5-$20
Show times are: 8:00 PM Fridays & Saturdays; 2:30 PM on Sundays
Call (310) 929-8129 for information.
The Relevant Stage Theatre Company at San Pedro's Warner Grand Theatre visit: http://www.therelevantstage.com/T: 310/929.8129Office: 600 S. Pacific Avenue, #220 San Pedro, CA 90731Venue: 478 W. 6th Street San Pedro, CA 90731
WGT is a facility of the City of Los Angeles Department of Cultural Affairs
Regular Ticket prices are: $5-$20
Show times are: 8:00 PM Fridays & Saturdays; 2:30 PM on Sundays
Call (310) 929-8129 for information.
The Relevant Stage Theatre Company at San Pedro's Warner Grand Theatre visit: http://www.therelevantstage.com/T: 310/929.8129Office: 600 S. Pacific Avenue, #220 San Pedro, CA 90731Venue: 478 W. 6th Street San Pedro, CA 90731
Also in 2009:*THE HOUSE ON MANGO STREET*UPTON SINCLAIR'S SINGING JAILBIRDS*HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL 2*ASSASSINS*RICHARD O' BRIEN'S ROCKY HORROR SHOW*THE CHRISTMAS CAROL*Subject to change
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
My Name is CABACABA - ID#A0985685My name is Caba and I am an unaltered female, brown and white German Shepherd Dog.The shelter thinks I am about 3 years old.I have been at the shelter since Sep 26, 2008.
BEHAVIOR: "she is SO sweet, She is shy and a little scared but really, really sweet. She seems good with other dogs. She just needs a little TLC."
Anna HernandezNEW HOPE /BABY BOTTLE FOSTER PROGRAM COORDINATOR North Central Animal Services3201 Lacy St. Los Angeles, CA 90031Cell - 213 - 305- 4096Fax- 213- 847- 0555Shelter-213-485-5767(preferred)Business Hours Tues-Sat. 8-5pm
BEHAVIOR: "she is SO sweet, She is shy and a little scared but really, really sweet. She seems good with other dogs. She just needs a little TLC."
Anna HernandezNEW HOPE /BABY BOTTLE FOSTER PROGRAM COORDINATOR North Central Animal Services3201 Lacy St. Los Angeles, CA 90031Cell - 213 - 305- 4096Fax- 213- 847- 0555Shelter-213-485-5767(preferred)Business Hours Tues-Sat. 8-5pm
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
THE SAD FATE OF TWO CANINES ARE ANOTHER REMINDER ABOUT TAKING PRE-CAUTIONS ON THE HEAVILY TRAVELED INTERSTATE-5 CONNECTING CALIFORNIA’s NORTH AND SOUTH; TRIPLE A GIVES TIPS ON HOW TO AVOID EXHAUSTION
By Diana L. Chapman
It was just your typical drive down the heavily traveled and oft-dangerous Interstate 5, as we zoomed home from a pleasurable holiday at my mom’s in the delicious Napa Valley. The graying mountains along the freeway whisked by as cars dashed past us.
On this drive, we would witness the sad fate of two dogs – unexpectedly -- and one that continues playing over and over again in my mind. It reminds me sadly that drivers on this freeway must be prepared for anything. Fog. Snow. Ice. Winds. And yes, even canines.
Over the years of heading up north for Christmas, this rather tedious drive seems to take on a life of its own in its 756 mile stretch across California. Having done it so many times, I’ve always tucked away the myriad of fatal and injurious accidents over the years.
In 2007 alone, the CHP reported 1,660 accidents along the I-5 stretching from southern Los Angeles county to Stanislaus in the north.
Of those collisions, 956 people were injured and 31 were killed. That is in one single year. So you can imagine what chance the two dogs had. Virtually none. Like young children, they are helpless.
When I called Jaime Coffee, a spokeswoman for the CHP, and asked about this dangerous freeway, she quickly explained that the officers don’t call the Interstate dangerous. “It’s the drivers,” she said.
This is true. As time whizzes on, it seems our senses get lulled and dulled and drivers and passengers alike start texting, talking on cells, driving at high rates of speed and doing all sorts of crazy things to keep them occupied. It’s long. It’s tiring. It’s boring.
But our lack of caution is exactly what drives us into perilous circumstances.
I was just thinking this when I spotted what appeared to be an unusual crate crushed like a square box, and flattened like a pancake, on the passenger side of the road. My mind started clicking into all the possibilities of what it could be, when I glanced toward my husband to tell him about it.
And that’s when I saw the Australian Shepherd/collie mix limping in the giant center divide – a wide swath of empty earth littered with glass, gravel, tumbleweeds, plastic bags, ratty old clothes -- and my heart sunk. My mouth opened and let out an ugly gasp and my husband yelped: “What? What?” You know that stupid thing you accidentally do that terrifies the driver.
Had we been a few seconds later, we might have been swerving to miss – or worse hitting -- this unfortunate canine.
It probably wouldn’t be to long before the shepherd would be dead, struck down by cars racing 80 to 90 miles per hour or higher.
I knew there was little time to go back. I also knew that my husband, Jim, wouldn’t take the risk of our lives or other humans by trying to rescue the dog. And worse, I knew as a reporter for years and years, that if the CHP was called, they might have to run the dog down as one of the only ways to protect the public. Officers do this if drivers start veering all over the place to avoid the canine or getting out of their cars to help, increasing the dangers dramatically.
Sitting back, I clenched my fists and knew there wasn’t anything I could do, but I couldn’t quit thinking about that dog.
No matter what I did after that, I couldn’t quit staring at the divide, thinking how many stories could be told from that stretch of land, how many animals, how many people, how many wrecks and deaths the center divide had witnessed.
The set up is next-to-impossible to get in and out of without crossing the dangerous interstate. That made me ponder that just about anything – except possibly a human -- could be lying out there for days on end without anyone noticing.
Tick. Tick. Tick. My brain kept pulling up the picture of the injured dog, with the thick black fur and the tipped white-tail and it’s remarkable fortitude to carry on despite its injuries. It just kept walking, limping, walking. Limp. Limp.
I wanted to cry, but couldn’t. I couldn’t take my eyes off the center divide. “Who takes care of that land?” I asked my husband. “Who cleans it up? How can anyone get in and out of there safely at any time of day?”
That’s when I spotted another dog in the very left lane, a champagne colored pit bull with a white chest and one leg lopped off and head appearing crushed. I gasped again. Two dogs within miles of each other. Had they been dumped? Had that been their cage that had fallen on the side of the road? Had the owners accidentally lost the cage? But no one appeared to be trying to get these dogs back.
It was clear the pit bull was dead, which didn’t bode well for the life of the collie/shepherd. How awful to have been the driver who hit the pit bull and probably couldn’t swerve in time without hitting other cars.
My mind was jumbled with questions. What if we had stopped and tried to help. But I knew that was stupid. My girlfriend once stopped on a freeway to help a German Shepherd and a CHP officer was furious. Not only did she put herself in danger, he told her, and as much as this sounds terrible to say, I’m sure rightly so, she put all the other drivers on the road in danger.
After the second dog siting in less than 20 minutes, I realized that perhaps I was supposed to write this story to remind people that the Interstate is no picnic and that cars driving as fast as bullets need to be more cautious – as you never know what will appear before you, dog, human or otherwise.
As we continued on, the next thing I saw sent chills down my spine. A child’s giant, blue teddy bear was lying on its back face up, looking to the sky.
It was a big reminder that not just dogs have died here. Children have too.
Sadly, often it can be our own fault, the fault of the adults.
I’ll never forget when an officer stopped us once on the 395 as we headed to Mammoth Lakes. We were going 85 mph, having lost all sense of how fast we were driving. Our son was strapped in his car seat in the back with a mop of blond girls, probably about age three.
“You just don’t understand what it does to me when I roll up to a crash with a child your son’s age," the kind officer told us. "I have a child that age.”
The point was well-taken. There was no argument from us, because I couldn’t imagine for a second being an officer pulling up where children have been killed or maimed. This takes me back to the question. I wasn’t sure why I wanted to write about this. But I had too.
I decided that it was perhaps just a gentle reminder to think while driving on I-5.
It doesn’t take much for that road to become a stick of dynamite and a single driver to become a match. Combine that with the tule fogs, driver exhaustion, the snow, rain, ice, turbulent winds, steep grades, unsafe passes and what you have is a highway that not only stands for the freedom of travel – but unfortunately, often death.
Here are some tips from the Automobile Club to Avoid Dangers
“Like the I-15 and the I-10, during the holidays the I-5 tends to have a lot of long-distance drivers and that creates a greater risk of crashes that are caused by drowsy driving,” according to Marie Montgomery, a spokeswoman for Triple A.
“According to AAA, research shows that being awake for 18 hours produces driver impairment equal to a blood alcohol concentration (BAC) of .05. With 24 hours of no sleep, the equivalent BAC is .10. You are much more likely to be involved in a crash while driving drowsy because fatigue impairs your reaction time, judgment, vision, information processing, and short-term memory.”
To avoid driving while fatigued, the Auto Club recommends these tips:
--Begin the trip early in the day and set reasonable daily itineraries.
--Share driving responsibilities with a companion if possible by rotating driving shifts.
--Stop every 100 miles or every two hours to get out of the car and walk around, since exercise helps to combat fatigue.
--Restrict night driving.
--Make sure you get a good night's sleep.
--If you find yourself getting drowsy, find a well-lit, safe area to pull over and take a nap. Even 20 minutes will help. Caffeine will also help, but not as much as sleep.
The other big factor in winter driving is poor visibility caused by fog, rain and early darkness. Here are a couple of brochures dealing with how to drive in bad weather: http://www.aaanewsroom.net/Assets/Files/20061213144200.GoinSnowBrochureNP.pdf
And http://www.aaanewsroom.net/Assets/Files/200612131444160.GETAGRIPBrochureNP.pdf
By Diana L. Chapman
It was just your typical drive down the heavily traveled and oft-dangerous Interstate 5, as we zoomed home from a pleasurable holiday at my mom’s in the delicious Napa Valley. The graying mountains along the freeway whisked by as cars dashed past us.
On this drive, we would witness the sad fate of two dogs – unexpectedly -- and one that continues playing over and over again in my mind. It reminds me sadly that drivers on this freeway must be prepared for anything. Fog. Snow. Ice. Winds. And yes, even canines.
Over the years of heading up north for Christmas, this rather tedious drive seems to take on a life of its own in its 756 mile stretch across California. Having done it so many times, I’ve always tucked away the myriad of fatal and injurious accidents over the years.
In 2007 alone, the CHP reported 1,660 accidents along the I-5 stretching from southern Los Angeles county to Stanislaus in the north.
Of those collisions, 956 people were injured and 31 were killed. That is in one single year. So you can imagine what chance the two dogs had. Virtually none. Like young children, they are helpless.
When I called Jaime Coffee, a spokeswoman for the CHP, and asked about this dangerous freeway, she quickly explained that the officers don’t call the Interstate dangerous. “It’s the drivers,” she said.
This is true. As time whizzes on, it seems our senses get lulled and dulled and drivers and passengers alike start texting, talking on cells, driving at high rates of speed and doing all sorts of crazy things to keep them occupied. It’s long. It’s tiring. It’s boring.
But our lack of caution is exactly what drives us into perilous circumstances.
I was just thinking this when I spotted what appeared to be an unusual crate crushed like a square box, and flattened like a pancake, on the passenger side of the road. My mind started clicking into all the possibilities of what it could be, when I glanced toward my husband to tell him about it.
And that’s when I saw the Australian Shepherd/collie mix limping in the giant center divide – a wide swath of empty earth littered with glass, gravel, tumbleweeds, plastic bags, ratty old clothes -- and my heart sunk. My mouth opened and let out an ugly gasp and my husband yelped: “What? What?” You know that stupid thing you accidentally do that terrifies the driver.
Had we been a few seconds later, we might have been swerving to miss – or worse hitting -- this unfortunate canine.
It probably wouldn’t be to long before the shepherd would be dead, struck down by cars racing 80 to 90 miles per hour or higher.
I knew there was little time to go back. I also knew that my husband, Jim, wouldn’t take the risk of our lives or other humans by trying to rescue the dog. And worse, I knew as a reporter for years and years, that if the CHP was called, they might have to run the dog down as one of the only ways to protect the public. Officers do this if drivers start veering all over the place to avoid the canine or getting out of their cars to help, increasing the dangers dramatically.
Sitting back, I clenched my fists and knew there wasn’t anything I could do, but I couldn’t quit thinking about that dog.
No matter what I did after that, I couldn’t quit staring at the divide, thinking how many stories could be told from that stretch of land, how many animals, how many people, how many wrecks and deaths the center divide had witnessed.
The set up is next-to-impossible to get in and out of without crossing the dangerous interstate. That made me ponder that just about anything – except possibly a human -- could be lying out there for days on end without anyone noticing.
Tick. Tick. Tick. My brain kept pulling up the picture of the injured dog, with the thick black fur and the tipped white-tail and it’s remarkable fortitude to carry on despite its injuries. It just kept walking, limping, walking. Limp. Limp.
I wanted to cry, but couldn’t. I couldn’t take my eyes off the center divide. “Who takes care of that land?” I asked my husband. “Who cleans it up? How can anyone get in and out of there safely at any time of day?”
That’s when I spotted another dog in the very left lane, a champagne colored pit bull with a white chest and one leg lopped off and head appearing crushed. I gasped again. Two dogs within miles of each other. Had they been dumped? Had that been their cage that had fallen on the side of the road? Had the owners accidentally lost the cage? But no one appeared to be trying to get these dogs back.
It was clear the pit bull was dead, which didn’t bode well for the life of the collie/shepherd. How awful to have been the driver who hit the pit bull and probably couldn’t swerve in time without hitting other cars.
My mind was jumbled with questions. What if we had stopped and tried to help. But I knew that was stupid. My girlfriend once stopped on a freeway to help a German Shepherd and a CHP officer was furious. Not only did she put herself in danger, he told her, and as much as this sounds terrible to say, I’m sure rightly so, she put all the other drivers on the road in danger.
After the second dog siting in less than 20 minutes, I realized that perhaps I was supposed to write this story to remind people that the Interstate is no picnic and that cars driving as fast as bullets need to be more cautious – as you never know what will appear before you, dog, human or otherwise.
As we continued on, the next thing I saw sent chills down my spine. A child’s giant, blue teddy bear was lying on its back face up, looking to the sky.
It was a big reminder that not just dogs have died here. Children have too.
Sadly, often it can be our own fault, the fault of the adults.
I’ll never forget when an officer stopped us once on the 395 as we headed to Mammoth Lakes. We were going 85 mph, having lost all sense of how fast we were driving. Our son was strapped in his car seat in the back with a mop of blond girls, probably about age three.
“You just don’t understand what it does to me when I roll up to a crash with a child your son’s age," the kind officer told us. "I have a child that age.”
The point was well-taken. There was no argument from us, because I couldn’t imagine for a second being an officer pulling up where children have been killed or maimed. This takes me back to the question. I wasn’t sure why I wanted to write about this. But I had too.
I decided that it was perhaps just a gentle reminder to think while driving on I-5.
It doesn’t take much for that road to become a stick of dynamite and a single driver to become a match. Combine that with the tule fogs, driver exhaustion, the snow, rain, ice, turbulent winds, steep grades, unsafe passes and what you have is a highway that not only stands for the freedom of travel – but unfortunately, often death.
Here are some tips from the Automobile Club to Avoid Dangers
“Like the I-15 and the I-10, during the holidays the I-5 tends to have a lot of long-distance drivers and that creates a greater risk of crashes that are caused by drowsy driving,” according to Marie Montgomery, a spokeswoman for Triple A.
“According to AAA, research shows that being awake for 18 hours produces driver impairment equal to a blood alcohol concentration (BAC) of .05. With 24 hours of no sleep, the equivalent BAC is .10. You are much more likely to be involved in a crash while driving drowsy because fatigue impairs your reaction time, judgment, vision, information processing, and short-term memory.”
To avoid driving while fatigued, the Auto Club recommends these tips:
--Begin the trip early in the day and set reasonable daily itineraries.
--Share driving responsibilities with a companion if possible by rotating driving shifts.
--Stop every 100 miles or every two hours to get out of the car and walk around, since exercise helps to combat fatigue.
--Restrict night driving.
--Make sure you get a good night's sleep.
--If you find yourself getting drowsy, find a well-lit, safe area to pull over and take a nap. Even 20 minutes will help. Caffeine will also help, but not as much as sleep.
The other big factor in winter driving is poor visibility caused by fog, rain and early darkness. Here are a couple of brochures dealing with how to drive in bad weather: http://www.aaanewsroom.net/Assets/Files/20061213144200.GoinSnowBrochureNP.pdf
And http://www.aaanewsroom.net/Assets/Files/200612131444160.GETAGRIPBrochureNP.pdf
Saturday, January 03, 2009
TWO RECOMMENDATIONS FOR PARENTS; ONE A MOVIE ABOUT BED TIME STORIES & THE SECOND: A BOOK SERIES CALLED “GREGOR THE OVERLANDER” & OOPS…DON’T LET ME FORGET TO TELL YOU ABOUT THE 12-YEAR-OLD GIRL DOING BLOG BOOK REVIEWS; IT’S CLASSIC
By Diana L. Chapman
I am not a big Adam Sandler fan. He’s a bit too crass, a bit too abrasive and rarely the big-hearted, teddy-bear-kind-of guy, that you’d ever want to hug. That was before Bedtime Stories.
This Disney entertainer released Christmas day reveals Sandler as a sort-of-consistent looser, hotel handyman, named Skeeter, with big dreams and aspirations to finally become the manager, but with no real way to achieve them.
It’s clear to the rest of us (the adults) that it’s never going to happen. – despite the promise the affluent hotelier gave Skeeter’s story-telling father who ran the place as a small Los Angeles motel and lost it due to bad business practices. The hotelier then built a giant, resort high-rise where Skeeter all day long fixes lamps, refrigerators, televisions and looks like that’s exactly where he’ll stay, forever.
That is until two children appear in his life. For him, it’s a miracle because they accidentally empower him and change his dull destiny.
The two elementary-aged cuties get stuck with their bumpkin of an uncle when his sister has to race to a job interview in Arizona. Skeeter hadn’t seen his niece and nephew for several years due to a family dispute over a wedgie.
Once Skeeter gets the kids, that’s when all the magic begins – because as we all know – many kids still believe in magic. For me, it starts as soon as Skeeter, the direct opposite of his elementary school principal sister who bans television, hamburgers and encourages meals of wheat germ, opens up a world of candy and fast food.
Not good. But the kids forgive him for just about everything (like trying to run out the door when he realizes there’s no television to help him baby sit). They do make him honor one request: he has to tell bedtime stories. Looking at a slew of health and environmental-conscious bed time books, the handyman tosses them aside and makes up stories of himself being a noble knight getting passed over to help the king run his castle.
What happens from then on is a shower of colorful gum balls, stories coming true, or partly true, a whirlwind of ridiculous magic that changes Skeeters’ life forever more. I’ve read the reviews that criticize Disney for “neutering” Sandler to do this movie. There’s not much I’m grateful to Disney for, but I am glad of this.
He did a stupendous job and so did his sidekicks. My mother, 80, my son, 14, and both my husband and I enjoyed seeing Sandler play in this role. Sometimes, you’ve got to let go of reality and seriousness and go with the story’s flow, which all four of us did here.
And we liked it. We liked it! It was creative and sparks the imagination’s juices.
As for Sandler, he took the role in the first place because it was perfect for it. Why?
Because he’s one big kid and probably always will be.
(Rated PG)
GREGOR THE OVERLANDER, a GOOD FAMILY READ, ACTION PACKED IN A TEEMING WORLD BELOW NEW YORK; A YOUNG BOY HAS TO RESCUE HIS LITTLE SISTER, BOOTS, WHO HAS BECOME QUEEN OF THE COCKROACHES IN a BIZARRE UNDERWORLD WHERE ONE JUST NEVER KNOWS FOR SURE WHO IS THE ENEMY
There’s not too many books out there where families can read them together with children of nearly all ages, but Gregor the Overlander worked exceptionally well for ours, especially with it’s unusual fantasy twist in the under world of New York City where bats “fly you high” and rats may be good or bad or otherwise.
At times, one just never knows, in this unraveling mystery involving prophecies that cleverly tied a poor young Gregor in an armed-grip to a fate he never wanted or expected in a world that is so different that it reaches far beyond other fantasies I’ve read.
This creative inspiration by author Suzanne Collins comes in a series of five books, starting with Gregor the Overlander and finishing up with Gregor and the Code of Claw, which devastated us all. We didn’t want the story to end.
The series was done and we were already missing Gregor and Boots, the toddling sister, who falls down a giant laundry chute from their apartment and – unfortunately for Gregor – he has to dive in after her to save her. He’s in charge of the beaming toddler, who constantly tells him she’s pooped and needs changing.
Gregor loves her, but he’s also become the adult in charge at about age 11, after his father simply vanished and his mother works full time to keep them in their apartment. He tries to do the right thing, but the right thing is not always clear.
In an endless spin, Gregor lands in a world that is ultimately dark all the time and filled with trash and gunk and the creepiest critters from rats to gnats that consume creatures like piranhas. When he at last finds his sister, he can’t even begin to fathom what to do next, but he’s sucked into an underground kingdom, where people have bluish skin and desperately need his help to survive.
What a stroke of Gregor luck! The whole world has landed on his shoulders due to a tumbling Boots. The story: funny (Boots keeps us laughing.); scary, but not overly so, and a series that provokes much thought in the sense of values, tolerance and learning that not everything is black or white. Even a bit of romance creeps in.
While my family wished the author had continued, she brought it to an end in her best novel yet, as we weave in and out of the black world on the backs of bats buried deep beneath New York. It becomes Gregor’s part-time – and often – unwanted home and leaves him in the turmoil of often misunderstood prophecies which seem to include him with every move he makes.
I will tell no more…My suggestion. Read it together as a family. Any kids from age six and up should be able to handle it.
Enjoy! And may you fly high.
A “Nerd” of a 12-year-old in Santa Rosa Starts to Critique Books on Her Wonderful Blog Which May Steer Parents and Kids to the Books They May Like to Read; She Even Has the Gumption to Tell Publishers to Send Her Their Books If They Want Them Reviewed
I like bravery. I especially like bravery in a 12-year-old. And I like it even more when a girl isn’t even a bit afraid to say she’s nerdy.
When my niece, Wendy, Righetti, told me about her friend Zoe Alea, and how she started up a blog to review young adult books, I was immediately intrigued.
On her site she wrote: “I am really obsessed with books, and I am a nerd.”
And a bit later, she suggests publishers send her books if they want her to review them.
Last year, she read 106 books starting out with a New Year’s resolution that she would read at least 50 books. Posted now, she gave an average review to “Frenemies” by Alexa Young which involved too much materialism for Zoe and “Someone Like You” by Sarah Dressen, another teen pregnancy story, a resounding must-read.
Hopefully, Zoe and I will do a story about how she came to do this incredible thing and take it upon herself to review books. But for now, you can visit her site at: http://www.booksaregolden.blogspot.com
By Diana L. Chapman
I am not a big Adam Sandler fan. He’s a bit too crass, a bit too abrasive and rarely the big-hearted, teddy-bear-kind-of guy, that you’d ever want to hug. That was before Bedtime Stories.
This Disney entertainer released Christmas day reveals Sandler as a sort-of-consistent looser, hotel handyman, named Skeeter, with big dreams and aspirations to finally become the manager, but with no real way to achieve them.
It’s clear to the rest of us (the adults) that it’s never going to happen. – despite the promise the affluent hotelier gave Skeeter’s story-telling father who ran the place as a small Los Angeles motel and lost it due to bad business practices. The hotelier then built a giant, resort high-rise where Skeeter all day long fixes lamps, refrigerators, televisions and looks like that’s exactly where he’ll stay, forever.
That is until two children appear in his life. For him, it’s a miracle because they accidentally empower him and change his dull destiny.
The two elementary-aged cuties get stuck with their bumpkin of an uncle when his sister has to race to a job interview in Arizona. Skeeter hadn’t seen his niece and nephew for several years due to a family dispute over a wedgie.
Once Skeeter gets the kids, that’s when all the magic begins – because as we all know – many kids still believe in magic. For me, it starts as soon as Skeeter, the direct opposite of his elementary school principal sister who bans television, hamburgers and encourages meals of wheat germ, opens up a world of candy and fast food.
Not good. But the kids forgive him for just about everything (like trying to run out the door when he realizes there’s no television to help him baby sit). They do make him honor one request: he has to tell bedtime stories. Looking at a slew of health and environmental-conscious bed time books, the handyman tosses them aside and makes up stories of himself being a noble knight getting passed over to help the king run his castle.
What happens from then on is a shower of colorful gum balls, stories coming true, or partly true, a whirlwind of ridiculous magic that changes Skeeters’ life forever more. I’ve read the reviews that criticize Disney for “neutering” Sandler to do this movie. There’s not much I’m grateful to Disney for, but I am glad of this.
He did a stupendous job and so did his sidekicks. My mother, 80, my son, 14, and both my husband and I enjoyed seeing Sandler play in this role. Sometimes, you’ve got to let go of reality and seriousness and go with the story’s flow, which all four of us did here.
And we liked it. We liked it! It was creative and sparks the imagination’s juices.
As for Sandler, he took the role in the first place because it was perfect for it. Why?
Because he’s one big kid and probably always will be.
(Rated PG)
GREGOR THE OVERLANDER, a GOOD FAMILY READ, ACTION PACKED IN A TEEMING WORLD BELOW NEW YORK; A YOUNG BOY HAS TO RESCUE HIS LITTLE SISTER, BOOTS, WHO HAS BECOME QUEEN OF THE COCKROACHES IN a BIZARRE UNDERWORLD WHERE ONE JUST NEVER KNOWS FOR SURE WHO IS THE ENEMY
There’s not too many books out there where families can read them together with children of nearly all ages, but Gregor the Overlander worked exceptionally well for ours, especially with it’s unusual fantasy twist in the under world of New York City where bats “fly you high” and rats may be good or bad or otherwise.
At times, one just never knows, in this unraveling mystery involving prophecies that cleverly tied a poor young Gregor in an armed-grip to a fate he never wanted or expected in a world that is so different that it reaches far beyond other fantasies I’ve read.
This creative inspiration by author Suzanne Collins comes in a series of five books, starting with Gregor the Overlander and finishing up with Gregor and the Code of Claw, which devastated us all. We didn’t want the story to end.
The series was done and we were already missing Gregor and Boots, the toddling sister, who falls down a giant laundry chute from their apartment and – unfortunately for Gregor – he has to dive in after her to save her. He’s in charge of the beaming toddler, who constantly tells him she’s pooped and needs changing.
Gregor loves her, but he’s also become the adult in charge at about age 11, after his father simply vanished and his mother works full time to keep them in their apartment. He tries to do the right thing, but the right thing is not always clear.
In an endless spin, Gregor lands in a world that is ultimately dark all the time and filled with trash and gunk and the creepiest critters from rats to gnats that consume creatures like piranhas. When he at last finds his sister, he can’t even begin to fathom what to do next, but he’s sucked into an underground kingdom, where people have bluish skin and desperately need his help to survive.
What a stroke of Gregor luck! The whole world has landed on his shoulders due to a tumbling Boots. The story: funny (Boots keeps us laughing.); scary, but not overly so, and a series that provokes much thought in the sense of values, tolerance and learning that not everything is black or white. Even a bit of romance creeps in.
While my family wished the author had continued, she brought it to an end in her best novel yet, as we weave in and out of the black world on the backs of bats buried deep beneath New York. It becomes Gregor’s part-time – and often – unwanted home and leaves him in the turmoil of often misunderstood prophecies which seem to include him with every move he makes.
I will tell no more…My suggestion. Read it together as a family. Any kids from age six and up should be able to handle it.
Enjoy! And may you fly high.
A “Nerd” of a 12-year-old in Santa Rosa Starts to Critique Books on Her Wonderful Blog Which May Steer Parents and Kids to the Books They May Like to Read; She Even Has the Gumption to Tell Publishers to Send Her Their Books If They Want Them Reviewed
I like bravery. I especially like bravery in a 12-year-old. And I like it even more when a girl isn’t even a bit afraid to say she’s nerdy.
When my niece, Wendy, Righetti, told me about her friend Zoe Alea, and how she started up a blog to review young adult books, I was immediately intrigued.
On her site she wrote: “I am really obsessed with books, and I am a nerd.”
And a bit later, she suggests publishers send her books if they want her to review them.
Last year, she read 106 books starting out with a New Year’s resolution that she would read at least 50 books. Posted now, she gave an average review to “Frenemies” by Alexa Young which involved too much materialism for Zoe and “Someone Like You” by Sarah Dressen, another teen pregnancy story, a resounding must-read.
Hopefully, Zoe and I will do a story about how she came to do this incredible thing and take it upon herself to review books. But for now, you can visit her site at: http://www.booksaregolden.blogspot.com
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
San Pedro High Students Write Their Tales About Writing, Soccer and Outer Space; The Writing Sky Has No Limits
Dear Readers: All these students were asked to write what came to mind in a period of 15 minutes. This is three samples, but there are many, many more. I was extremely pleased with the first piece from the student who said she had no writing talent. Oh, yes she does! And so -- probably -- do you. Happy New Year --Diana
***Where To Begin When It Comes to Writing***
By Claudia Ramirez, 11th grade
Where to begin…
I hate writing…to most people, it comes easy and it’s a way to vent and express yourself, but as for me, it’s much different. There are so many thoughts running through my head but as soon as I see that blank white paper, they all evaporate. I don’t know where.
They say that reading is the key to being a great writer. That’s where my problem begins. I really don’t like to read. I don’t see why or how people can be so passionate about reading, but I wish I could.
After a couple of paragraphs of writing, I get lost and end up not having anything to write about (like right now…)
***Writing About a Passion for Soccer***
By Raquel Barbas, 11th grade
It’s like waking up and something is waiting for me; like my life isn’t complete without it.
The dew on the grass I can’t wait to see
The painted lines orange, white, green, an aurora of colors as I look up from the field.
The freedom I feel as I run,
Power in my legs, my mind set on the net
The feeling of scoring that first goal; the wonderful sound of the crowd
I love the feeling of the sun.
I feel warm, cozy and inspired and it’s the end
Another game flew by as I did once with the ball
Another day is done; I lay in bed and wait for the morning. I love doing this again and again.
***Have You Ever Wondered About the Night Sky?***
By Luis Elliot, 11th grade
Have you ever looked at the night sky and wondered: What is out there?
Through the storms and thunder, all is darkness. That is all I can see – something that can’t be reached because it’s everywhere and anywhere.
This all ends time, when we look up at the sky and see. Have you ever wondered what’s out there? An epic battle raging in another world, a world we can’t see, but we believe in
This is something we can reach and find; it is something we just can’t see
That galaxy far away tries to do the same and reach out to what they can’t see. This is something that just can’t be -- unless we wonder.
Have you ever seen the sky and wondered what we really see? Could the light be a glimmer of hope or a beacon of safety; Could the light be a fire started by the battle to control all?
Have you ever wondered when you look up at the night sky?
Dear Readers: All these students were asked to write what came to mind in a period of 15 minutes. This is three samples, but there are many, many more. I was extremely pleased with the first piece from the student who said she had no writing talent. Oh, yes she does! And so -- probably -- do you. Happy New Year --Diana
***Where To Begin When It Comes to Writing***
By Claudia Ramirez, 11th grade
Where to begin…
I hate writing…to most people, it comes easy and it’s a way to vent and express yourself, but as for me, it’s much different. There are so many thoughts running through my head but as soon as I see that blank white paper, they all evaporate. I don’t know where.
They say that reading is the key to being a great writer. That’s where my problem begins. I really don’t like to read. I don’t see why or how people can be so passionate about reading, but I wish I could.
After a couple of paragraphs of writing, I get lost and end up not having anything to write about (like right now…)
***Writing About a Passion for Soccer***
By Raquel Barbas, 11th grade
It’s like waking up and something is waiting for me; like my life isn’t complete without it.
The dew on the grass I can’t wait to see
The painted lines orange, white, green, an aurora of colors as I look up from the field.
The freedom I feel as I run,
Power in my legs, my mind set on the net
The feeling of scoring that first goal; the wonderful sound of the crowd
I love the feeling of the sun.
I feel warm, cozy and inspired and it’s the end
Another game flew by as I did once with the ball
Another day is done; I lay in bed and wait for the morning. I love doing this again and again.
***Have You Ever Wondered About the Night Sky?***
By Luis Elliot, 11th grade
Have you ever looked at the night sky and wondered: What is out there?
Through the storms and thunder, all is darkness. That is all I can see – something that can’t be reached because it’s everywhere and anywhere.
This all ends time, when we look up at the sky and see. Have you ever wondered what’s out there? An epic battle raging in another world, a world we can’t see, but we believe in
This is something we can reach and find; it is something we just can’t see
That galaxy far away tries to do the same and reach out to what they can’t see. This is something that just can’t be -- unless we wonder.
Have you ever seen the sky and wondered what we really see? Could the light be a glimmer of hope or a beacon of safety; Could the light be a fire started by the battle to control all?
Have you ever wondered when you look up at the night sky?
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Saturday, December 20, 2008
ANOTHER SAN PEDRO HIGH STUDENT TELLS OF HIS GREAT RESPECT FOR HIS IMMIGRANT PARENTS FOR BETTERING THEIR LIVES AND HOW HE HAD TO FORGE AHEAD ON HIS OWN TO GET AN EDUCATION ONCE THEY COULD NO LONGER HELP HIM
By David Campos, 17, San Pedro High School
Imagine yourself growing up in a mixed race community, with two loving parents who came to this country from third world countries, neither of them having family, someone to offer them a helping hand and lacking an education.
This persona matches practically half of the parents in the low income area of my community. My father never made it past middle school due to the civil war that was taking place in El Salvador. They would take children and teens from their schools and villages and install them in the army.
Faced only with this option, he fled to the United Sates at the age of eighteen. He quickly had to become a man and find himself a job to survive in this nation. He later became successful father supplying me with the tools necessary to succeed.
My mother grew up on a field in Guatemala and she decided to give up her opportunity to receive an education to help her family in the household. She came to the United States at the age of seventeen looking for a brighter future. Despite knowing barely any English, she managed to receive a proper education. She returned to school and received her G.E.D. She then decided that she wanted to do something in the medical field. She attended college and earned her certification and became a certified medical assistant.
The world that surrounds me has made it clear that an education is important. My community has allowed me to view the opportunities that are given to people who have a good education. Being the first one in my family to attend college, I feel that it is my responsibility to graduate from college in order to repay my parents and everyone who has helped me make my dream of being an architect or civil engineer a possibility.
As I became older, I began to realize that the things that my parents could help me with academically were diminishing. My freshman year in high school, I realized that I had exceeded what my parents had learned in school.
I realized that I could no longer go to them for help, no matter the subject. When I entered my freshman year, I had no idea of what was in store for me throughout that year. Out of all the courses I was taking that year, the toughest was geometry.
It was a completely different type of math that required a lot of studying. I could never turn to my parents for help because they never got to this type of math when they were in school. I was forced to either look for help or take it upon myself to study harder to achieve the grade I wanted in that particular class.
Every day I did more than just the homework that was assigned to me. I even did the examples that are provided in the beginning of the section to make sure that I understood what I was doing. All the hard work paid off when I passed the class with one of the highest grades in the class.
Biology was my second hardest class that I had that year. At first it was simple, but as we progressed through the year it started to become more complicated. Not many people fully understood everything that was being taught to us, so my fellow classmates were not much help.
I asked the teacher a few times about what she had just gone over. Most of the time she clarified it for me, but sometimes she just made me more confused than I already was. That was when I turned to my parents for help.
I still remember what my mother said to me one night when I was studying for a biology test. She said, “Sorry, you know I would love to help you, but I never learned this.”
This was the precise moment of my life that I realized I could no longer go to my parents for help school-wise. Realizing that my parents could no longer help put obstacles ahead of me. Overcoming these obstacles have made me the person I am today. It has transformed me from a child with hardly any worries in this world into the person who takes initiatives and works hard to complete the task at hand no matter how difficult it may seem
Even if I do something incorrectly I demonstrate resiliency by getting back up on my feet and giving it as many tries I need to do it correctly.
During my tenth grade year I was forced to take a zero period in order to keep playing soccer for my school, which added an immense amount of stress and work to my already cluttered schedule.
Every day for twenty-five weeks I would stay until five o'clock for soccer practice; sometimes I would have to even stay until seven o'clock on game days because of the bus ride home after both Varsity and Junior Varsity teams had completed their games.
After I got home I would have to quickly eat dinner and bathe in order to get started on my homework. It was really stressful for me when I couldn't do a certain part of one of my assignments because I still had to do my other assignments from other classes.
It frustrated me that I wasn't doing it right, but I knew that I didn't have the time to retry it because I had to complete the other assignments so that I could get some rest. Some of my teachers even assigned homework on days before a big test. I took it upon myself to separate myself from my teammates and study on the bus and during the Varsity soccer games.
I would even study during meal breaks.
Through all this I still managed to find the strength and energy to keep up academically and to perform at my best throughout the soccer season. This part of my life has given me the experience necessary to balance my current hectic schedule. Apart from taking three rigorous AP classes and staying after school, I am preparing myself for the ACT and SAT, and I still manage to find the time after soccer practice to give back to my community.
I now go to the local Boys and Girls Club to tutor students because I want them to have someone who they can turn to for help and so that they don't have to go through what I went through. By doing this I'm hoping that they'll take it upon themselves to pay it forward by helping others, thus making it a better community to live in.
By David Campos, 17, San Pedro High School
Imagine yourself growing up in a mixed race community, with two loving parents who came to this country from third world countries, neither of them having family, someone to offer them a helping hand and lacking an education.
This persona matches practically half of the parents in the low income area of my community. My father never made it past middle school due to the civil war that was taking place in El Salvador. They would take children and teens from their schools and villages and install them in the army.
Faced only with this option, he fled to the United Sates at the age of eighteen. He quickly had to become a man and find himself a job to survive in this nation. He later became successful father supplying me with the tools necessary to succeed.
My mother grew up on a field in Guatemala and she decided to give up her opportunity to receive an education to help her family in the household. She came to the United States at the age of seventeen looking for a brighter future. Despite knowing barely any English, she managed to receive a proper education. She returned to school and received her G.E.D. She then decided that she wanted to do something in the medical field. She attended college and earned her certification and became a certified medical assistant.
The world that surrounds me has made it clear that an education is important. My community has allowed me to view the opportunities that are given to people who have a good education. Being the first one in my family to attend college, I feel that it is my responsibility to graduate from college in order to repay my parents and everyone who has helped me make my dream of being an architect or civil engineer a possibility.
As I became older, I began to realize that the things that my parents could help me with academically were diminishing. My freshman year in high school, I realized that I had exceeded what my parents had learned in school.
I realized that I could no longer go to them for help, no matter the subject. When I entered my freshman year, I had no idea of what was in store for me throughout that year. Out of all the courses I was taking that year, the toughest was geometry.
It was a completely different type of math that required a lot of studying. I could never turn to my parents for help because they never got to this type of math when they were in school. I was forced to either look for help or take it upon myself to study harder to achieve the grade I wanted in that particular class.
Every day I did more than just the homework that was assigned to me. I even did the examples that are provided in the beginning of the section to make sure that I understood what I was doing. All the hard work paid off when I passed the class with one of the highest grades in the class.
Biology was my second hardest class that I had that year. At first it was simple, but as we progressed through the year it started to become more complicated. Not many people fully understood everything that was being taught to us, so my fellow classmates were not much help.
I asked the teacher a few times about what she had just gone over. Most of the time she clarified it for me, but sometimes she just made me more confused than I already was. That was when I turned to my parents for help.
I still remember what my mother said to me one night when I was studying for a biology test. She said, “Sorry, you know I would love to help you, but I never learned this.”
This was the precise moment of my life that I realized I could no longer go to my parents for help school-wise. Realizing that my parents could no longer help put obstacles ahead of me. Overcoming these obstacles have made me the person I am today. It has transformed me from a child with hardly any worries in this world into the person who takes initiatives and works hard to complete the task at hand no matter how difficult it may seem
Even if I do something incorrectly I demonstrate resiliency by getting back up on my feet and giving it as many tries I need to do it correctly.
During my tenth grade year I was forced to take a zero period in order to keep playing soccer for my school, which added an immense amount of stress and work to my already cluttered schedule.
Every day for twenty-five weeks I would stay until five o'clock for soccer practice; sometimes I would have to even stay until seven o'clock on game days because of the bus ride home after both Varsity and Junior Varsity teams had completed their games.
After I got home I would have to quickly eat dinner and bathe in order to get started on my homework. It was really stressful for me when I couldn't do a certain part of one of my assignments because I still had to do my other assignments from other classes.
It frustrated me that I wasn't doing it right, but I knew that I didn't have the time to retry it because I had to complete the other assignments so that I could get some rest. Some of my teachers even assigned homework on days before a big test. I took it upon myself to separate myself from my teammates and study on the bus and during the Varsity soccer games.
I would even study during meal breaks.
Through all this I still managed to find the strength and energy to keep up academically and to perform at my best throughout the soccer season. This part of my life has given me the experience necessary to balance my current hectic schedule. Apart from taking three rigorous AP classes and staying after school, I am preparing myself for the ACT and SAT, and I still manage to find the time after soccer practice to give back to my community.
I now go to the local Boys and Girls Club to tutor students because I want them to have someone who they can turn to for help and so that they don't have to go through what I went through. By doing this I'm hoping that they'll take it upon themselves to pay it forward by helping others, thus making it a better community to live in.
Friday, December 19, 2008
OLD-FASHIONED, IT’S a WONDERFUL-LIFE-KIND-OF-NIGHT AT THE CORNER STORE TONIGHT (FRIDAY) OR YOU COULD CALL IT A MIRACLE ON 37TH STREET EVENING; SIP EGGNOG, LISTEN TO CAROLS, VISIT SANTA …and MAYBE THERE MIGHT EVEN BE A TAD OF PLEASINGLY PRETEND SNOW TO ICE UP THE ATMOSPHERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tonight, pack up the kids and trot on over to the Corner Store so they can tell Santa what they want for Christmas, sip a bit of eggnog and listen to Christmas Carols. There might even be a bit of powdery stuff provided by snow machine.
No, it’s not real snow, said Corner Store Owner Peggy Lindquist, but it should help set the mood just the same.
Children will be given small gifts and a candy cane when they visit Santa and photos will be taken for a small donation toward Clean San Pedro, a non-profit that has organized to keep the community clean.
The way it works is like this:
Santa and his elf will be jingling at the Corner Store from 6 to 7 p.m., played by a Secret Santa.
Carolling and eggnog servings will start at 7 p.m. And then customers and staff will hit the streets to sing carols up and down 37th Street. The owner asks for you to bring a flashlight and jingle bells to whip up the spirit of the night and keep everyone safe.
The Corner Store is at 1118 W. 37th Street. For more information, call: 310-832-2424.
Tonight, pack up the kids and trot on over to the Corner Store so they can tell Santa what they want for Christmas, sip a bit of eggnog and listen to Christmas Carols. There might even be a bit of powdery stuff provided by snow machine.
No, it’s not real snow, said Corner Store Owner Peggy Lindquist, but it should help set the mood just the same.
Children will be given small gifts and a candy cane when they visit Santa and photos will be taken for a small donation toward Clean San Pedro, a non-profit that has organized to keep the community clean.
The way it works is like this:
Santa and his elf will be jingling at the Corner Store from 6 to 7 p.m., played by a Secret Santa.
Carolling and eggnog servings will start at 7 p.m. And then customers and staff will hit the streets to sing carols up and down 37th Street. The owner asks for you to bring a flashlight and jingle bells to whip up the spirit of the night and keep everyone safe.
The Corner Store is at 1118 W. 37th Street. For more information, call: 310-832-2424.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
How One Set of Immigrant Parents Survive Poverty with Their Children While Instilling Values; Continuing Series of Students Writing About Their Role-Model Parents
Dear Readers: I have had the luck and good fortune to read stories about how students feel toward their immigrant parents who've worked hard to make their lives so much better. Since we often hear about the bad immigrant parents, it seemed like a good idea to post the stories students wrote about their successful parents who filled them with values and did everything possible to guide them and their futures and keep them from joining gangs. This story is by San Pedro High School Senior Ivan Lara, 18, varsity soccer coach.
By Ivan Lara
One afternoon, we were driving by a Burger King when my older brother, Edgar, and I were small and we asked our parents to buy us a hamburger. I could tell by the way my parents looked at each other that money was an issue.
My father checked his pockets. All he had was a couple of dimes and nickels. That was it. Once we parked, we decided to look under and between the seats of our truck for spare change. Finally we rounded up enough money to buy one hamburger.
One measly hamburger for two adults and two children. My mom and dad each had one bite and Edgar and I split the rest. This example illustrates my childhood. Most of our shoes came from the least expensive stores. My dad’s gardening clients donated most of our clothes. My parents are both immigrants and spoke no English.
Once they arrived in the U.S, my dad became a gardener; my mother worked for four years as a janitor and is now unemployed due to the economic crisis our nation is experiencing. Although my family and I have gone through several hardships due to financial matters, I know we will survive as we always have with every obstacle we faced. Being poor has taught me a great appreciation for life and the value of family.
My family immigrated to this country in August of 1994 and later became residents in 2002. When I started school at the age of four, I had no idea how to speak English, but I learned quickly and made many friends. My parents were unable to help with my homework as they didn't have much of an education.
During middle school, I fell into a bad crowd and I was teased and called names because I was smart and liked school. The following summer, my friends and I got into a fight with a gang; I nearly was jumped. After that, I dropped those friends and made new ones who wanted an education. I also focused more on my academics more than anything else because I knew my grades were going to help me with my future.
Meanwhile, I was thinking about college but had no idea how to get started. I walked into The Boys and Girls Club one day to check it out and saw their “Wall of Fame,” filled with the faces of students the staff helped go off to college. I was amazed.
Once, I talked to Cara, the College Bound director, I definitely knew college was perfect for me. The Boys and Girls Club has had a great impact in my life; I go there to take all the College Bound programs, including the writing class and for tutoring in calculus. But I also tutor younger students who need help. I wanted to help other kids who have parents like mine and are able to help their children study.
There was a point in my life where I felt helpless because I couldn’t do anything to help a person who I love greatly – my little sister. I heard a big thump in the middle of the night and saw my dad scrambling to get dressed. My mom was sobbing and I was clueless of what was happening. They rushed out of the house, my dad holding my little sister in his arms.
She was having an asthma attack and they rushed her to emergency room. More visits to the ER followed after that. One morning, I heard my little sister tell my mom: “Mommy, I feel like dying.” My mom just broke into tears. My little sister’s illness motivated me even more to go to college and make something out of myself, possibly in the medical field, so I can help children like my sister.
My families situation has taught me many things. Saying Happy Birthday to each other is special – much more than a material gift. Not all gifts are related to money.
Another special thing in my life was when I started playing soccer at age twelve and liked it a lot. I made the All Star Team and varsity by my sophomore year and later became San Pedro High’s team captain. I am grateful that I fell in love with the sport because it saved me.
While my older brother delved into the gangs and drugs – we lived in a crime ridden neighborhood in Wilmington -- soccer kept me away from that lifestyle and made me more determined to focus on my grades. I didn’t want to live that way. (When my father couldn’t get control of my brother, he pulled him out of school and took him to work everyday. My brother still works with my father and is working currently for his high school equivalency).
Besides my parents, my uncle is a good role model. He is trying to make the community we live in a better place which is nicknamed “Ghost Town” and was run by gangsters and drugs. My uncle has hosted several community clean-ups to try and make the area a better place. I help him to clean the streets and alley ways. While it is not the total answer, we have seen some success with this hard work.
My parent’s hard worked has helped me pave a successful future – and for that I need a college degree, which I will get. But more than anything, I respect that they gave me good values and a great appreciation for life, poor or otherwise.
Dear Readers: I have had the luck and good fortune to read stories about how students feel toward their immigrant parents who've worked hard to make their lives so much better. Since we often hear about the bad immigrant parents, it seemed like a good idea to post the stories students wrote about their successful parents who filled them with values and did everything possible to guide them and their futures and keep them from joining gangs. This story is by San Pedro High School Senior Ivan Lara, 18, varsity soccer coach.
By Ivan Lara
One afternoon, we were driving by a Burger King when my older brother, Edgar, and I were small and we asked our parents to buy us a hamburger. I could tell by the way my parents looked at each other that money was an issue.
My father checked his pockets. All he had was a couple of dimes and nickels. That was it. Once we parked, we decided to look under and between the seats of our truck for spare change. Finally we rounded up enough money to buy one hamburger.
One measly hamburger for two adults and two children. My mom and dad each had one bite and Edgar and I split the rest. This example illustrates my childhood. Most of our shoes came from the least expensive stores. My dad’s gardening clients donated most of our clothes. My parents are both immigrants and spoke no English.
Once they arrived in the U.S, my dad became a gardener; my mother worked for four years as a janitor and is now unemployed due to the economic crisis our nation is experiencing. Although my family and I have gone through several hardships due to financial matters, I know we will survive as we always have with every obstacle we faced. Being poor has taught me a great appreciation for life and the value of family.
My family immigrated to this country in August of 1994 and later became residents in 2002. When I started school at the age of four, I had no idea how to speak English, but I learned quickly and made many friends. My parents were unable to help with my homework as they didn't have much of an education.
During middle school, I fell into a bad crowd and I was teased and called names because I was smart and liked school. The following summer, my friends and I got into a fight with a gang; I nearly was jumped. After that, I dropped those friends and made new ones who wanted an education. I also focused more on my academics more than anything else because I knew my grades were going to help me with my future.
Meanwhile, I was thinking about college but had no idea how to get started. I walked into The Boys and Girls Club one day to check it out and saw their “Wall of Fame,” filled with the faces of students the staff helped go off to college. I was amazed.
Once, I talked to Cara, the College Bound director, I definitely knew college was perfect for me. The Boys and Girls Club has had a great impact in my life; I go there to take all the College Bound programs, including the writing class and for tutoring in calculus. But I also tutor younger students who need help. I wanted to help other kids who have parents like mine and are able to help their children study.
There was a point in my life where I felt helpless because I couldn’t do anything to help a person who I love greatly – my little sister. I heard a big thump in the middle of the night and saw my dad scrambling to get dressed. My mom was sobbing and I was clueless of what was happening. They rushed out of the house, my dad holding my little sister in his arms.
She was having an asthma attack and they rushed her to emergency room. More visits to the ER followed after that. One morning, I heard my little sister tell my mom: “Mommy, I feel like dying.” My mom just broke into tears. My little sister’s illness motivated me even more to go to college and make something out of myself, possibly in the medical field, so I can help children like my sister.
My families situation has taught me many things. Saying Happy Birthday to each other is special – much more than a material gift. Not all gifts are related to money.
Another special thing in my life was when I started playing soccer at age twelve and liked it a lot. I made the All Star Team and varsity by my sophomore year and later became San Pedro High’s team captain. I am grateful that I fell in love with the sport because it saved me.
While my older brother delved into the gangs and drugs – we lived in a crime ridden neighborhood in Wilmington -- soccer kept me away from that lifestyle and made me more determined to focus on my grades. I didn’t want to live that way. (When my father couldn’t get control of my brother, he pulled him out of school and took him to work everyday. My brother still works with my father and is working currently for his high school equivalency).
Besides my parents, my uncle is a good role model. He is trying to make the community we live in a better place which is nicknamed “Ghost Town” and was run by gangsters and drugs. My uncle has hosted several community clean-ups to try and make the area a better place. I help him to clean the streets and alley ways. While it is not the total answer, we have seen some success with this hard work.
My parent’s hard worked has helped me pave a successful future – and for that I need a college degree, which I will get. But more than anything, I respect that they gave me good values and a great appreciation for life, poor or otherwise.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Losing a Local Hero in our Small Fish Bowl of a Neighborhood Really Hurts; Clive Was The Man Who Just About Everybody Liked
By Diana L. Chapman
Not long after we moved into our tiny cottage style home on Leland Avenue, I met my neighbor who lives directly across the street, a short man with an English quip and a love for all things Winston Churchill.
Clive always called himself “a Churchillian” and it immediately bonded us together along with the fact he was born in England – as were all my grandparents. There was a lot to talk about and at the time we were both stronger and able to have many an outdoor conversation.
We both agreed Churchill saved the world.
We both loved to read about English history.
We both just enjoyed talking about this-and-that. He was one of my biggest fans when I had my kid’s column in the More San Pedro. He read it religiously. Eventually, the friendship evolved into inviting Clive over to have dinner with our friends. It didn’t matter that he was 74, a couple of decades older than most the people who come here, or that he drank a lot of Scotch. He just slipped into the group as easily as a fish moved in water – and I can honestly say, not a single visit went by where one of my friends didn’t call or email asking me about this man the next day.
Everyone seemed to enjoy his company. I teased him about his Scotch. He teased me about the fact I wasn’t “exactly sipping the wine.” I attribute the number of calls and emails regarding Clive to his English accent, but also just his way of listening at the right time. He was a good conversationalist and fun to have around.
As a joke, I’d contend to Clive that his popularity stemmed from his British charm which he put on every time he dropped by and took off each time he left. Eventually, my husband and I started calling him a “local hero” because he stood up for the children in the neighborhood, but before I get into that, I want to tell you just a bit of his life.
Yes, Clive moved here from England decades ago, when he was one of those English sailors who had gotten off his military ship and was headed for the “pubs” meaning bars along Harbor Boulevard.
He admitted to me sheepishly that he met his future wife – only because he needed to use a public facility – so he raced into yet another bar when he had actually intended to get back to the ship. But the bar was where he spotted the woman he was to marry. The next thing he knew, he had tied the knot, was living in San Pedro and had two sons, Ian and Doug. When his wife died from cancer, he was devastated and became some what reclusive. But eventually, he pulled out of his shell and befriended many in the neighborhood, including me.
He was like this: A woman walked by his home and started breathing in the smell of his stunning array of golden and white roses. He walked outside and the next thing this woman knew, she was back constantly to talk to him about his beautiful rose bushes several times a month. They too became friends, having many outdoor chats.
I loved talking to Clive. But more than anything, I appreciated him for the moment in time when he turned into our local hero and stuck up for the kids in our neighborhood. Apparently, a couple of neighbors were attempting to ban the kids from playing wiffle ball on our typically slow street. My son, his friends and some other boys had been playing wiffle ball since we moved in five years ago and no one had ever made an issue of it.
In fact, when we arrived two 20-somethings, brothers, were outside playing with the younger kids.
“How long has this game been going on?” I teased when I saw the two older men.
“Oh about 20 years,” one of the brothers replied. “We’ve been playing here since we were kids.”
To appease the neighbors, we moved our kids out of one driveway and asked Clive if it was alright if the kids hit wiffle balls in his yard. Of course, it is, he said. The kids have been playing ball out there for so long he couldn’t imagine it any other way. He enjoyed watching them and teased the boys that if they broke a window, he would pay them $10 – because he knew a window would never break and he’d never have to pay it.
Clive actually seemed to enjoy retrieving their balls and throwing them back into our yard and watching the kids play. It was soon after this, the neighbors showed up at his door and asked him to put a halt to it. The kids were too loud, they complained. They were interfering with their privacy. It was aggravating because car alarms went off when the kids ran near them.
Since he was friends, close friends with those neighbors, it must have been difficult for Clive to flat out refuse. But he did – and pointed out that not only had his two sons played there as kids for years – so had theirs.
So the wiffle balls continued to whiz across the street. Clive continued to throw them back. And he’d visit when we had company. Life went about as usual – until I took a sudden and scary plunge in my health to the point where I had trouble getting out of bed. Fatigue became my worst enemy and our social life pretty much crumpled and ceased. Multiple sclerosis does that to people.
Every ounce of my energy was consumed and now I had to be careful where I chose to spend the little I had. The social life tends to get dropped first. I tried to explain this to Clive, but I’m not sure he understood why he was rarely getting invited over anymore.
Life tends to put us on a collision course and I believe this is what happened to Clive after he fell at home and broke his back in three places just a few months back. I was struggling along, barely getting to reach him in the hospital. He came home, went back in the hospital and came home again. The pattern repeated. His friends and neighbors pitched in to help, one watering his lawn and picking up his newspapers. Others ran errands. Most everyone went to the hospital.
Being in and out of the hospital weeks at a time wears on anyone’s soul and it wore on Clive's. The last time I saw him leaving his home, he was a mere shadow of himself and I knew then he wasn’t coming back.
I felt awful that I wasn’t there for him and worse that he probably couldn’t understand why all those invites had evaporated. Then there came a Sunday when friends of the family dropped by to let us know that Clive no longer wanted to be on a ventilator and it would be turned off that morning. His sons sent them over to ask if we wanted to say goodbye.
Jim and I raced to the hospital and everyone was crying. We held his hand in an awkward silence and I began questioning myself about what I could have done better, all the things I could have done, but didn’t do because of my own situation. I was angry because I knew he looked forward to those times at our house and it might have helped pull him out of that downward spiral. At this point, Clive couldn't speak, but he could hear us.
"Look Dad," Ian told his father, who was now shy of being just a whisper of himself, "your party buddies are here to wish you goodbye."
He couldn't say anything, so I hope that it was enough for him to know that we were there.
It’s such a loss and I feel lonely looking out my window, wishing he was still there, wearing his tan-colored cap, watering his rose bushes or driving his royal blue convertible back into his garage so we could banter more about Churchill and our English roots.
While I feel sad, and will for quite some time, I believe Clive would rather that we celebrate his life than be so forlorn.
When January approaches, and if his sons agree, I will celebrate Clive’s life – with a small handful of neighbors and folks who came to know and respect him – and in his honor we will have a wee bit of Scotch and perhaps, just perhaps, he will know we toasted to his life.
By Diana L. Chapman
Not long after we moved into our tiny cottage style home on Leland Avenue, I met my neighbor who lives directly across the street, a short man with an English quip and a love for all things Winston Churchill.
Clive always called himself “a Churchillian” and it immediately bonded us together along with the fact he was born in England – as were all my grandparents. There was a lot to talk about and at the time we were both stronger and able to have many an outdoor conversation.
We both agreed Churchill saved the world.
We both loved to read about English history.
We both just enjoyed talking about this-and-that. He was one of my biggest fans when I had my kid’s column in the More San Pedro. He read it religiously. Eventually, the friendship evolved into inviting Clive over to have dinner with our friends. It didn’t matter that he was 74, a couple of decades older than most the people who come here, or that he drank a lot of Scotch. He just slipped into the group as easily as a fish moved in water – and I can honestly say, not a single visit went by where one of my friends didn’t call or email asking me about this man the next day.
Everyone seemed to enjoy his company. I teased him about his Scotch. He teased me about the fact I wasn’t “exactly sipping the wine.” I attribute the number of calls and emails regarding Clive to his English accent, but also just his way of listening at the right time. He was a good conversationalist and fun to have around.
As a joke, I’d contend to Clive that his popularity stemmed from his British charm which he put on every time he dropped by and took off each time he left. Eventually, my husband and I started calling him a “local hero” because he stood up for the children in the neighborhood, but before I get into that, I want to tell you just a bit of his life.
Yes, Clive moved here from England decades ago, when he was one of those English sailors who had gotten off his military ship and was headed for the “pubs” meaning bars along Harbor Boulevard.
He admitted to me sheepishly that he met his future wife – only because he needed to use a public facility – so he raced into yet another bar when he had actually intended to get back to the ship. But the bar was where he spotted the woman he was to marry. The next thing he knew, he had tied the knot, was living in San Pedro and had two sons, Ian and Doug. When his wife died from cancer, he was devastated and became some what reclusive. But eventually, he pulled out of his shell and befriended many in the neighborhood, including me.
He was like this: A woman walked by his home and started breathing in the smell of his stunning array of golden and white roses. He walked outside and the next thing this woman knew, she was back constantly to talk to him about his beautiful rose bushes several times a month. They too became friends, having many outdoor chats.
I loved talking to Clive. But more than anything, I appreciated him for the moment in time when he turned into our local hero and stuck up for the kids in our neighborhood. Apparently, a couple of neighbors were attempting to ban the kids from playing wiffle ball on our typically slow street. My son, his friends and some other boys had been playing wiffle ball since we moved in five years ago and no one had ever made an issue of it.
In fact, when we arrived two 20-somethings, brothers, were outside playing with the younger kids.
“How long has this game been going on?” I teased when I saw the two older men.
“Oh about 20 years,” one of the brothers replied. “We’ve been playing here since we were kids.”
To appease the neighbors, we moved our kids out of one driveway and asked Clive if it was alright if the kids hit wiffle balls in his yard. Of course, it is, he said. The kids have been playing ball out there for so long he couldn’t imagine it any other way. He enjoyed watching them and teased the boys that if they broke a window, he would pay them $10 – because he knew a window would never break and he’d never have to pay it.
Clive actually seemed to enjoy retrieving their balls and throwing them back into our yard and watching the kids play. It was soon after this, the neighbors showed up at his door and asked him to put a halt to it. The kids were too loud, they complained. They were interfering with their privacy. It was aggravating because car alarms went off when the kids ran near them.
Since he was friends, close friends with those neighbors, it must have been difficult for Clive to flat out refuse. But he did – and pointed out that not only had his two sons played there as kids for years – so had theirs.
So the wiffle balls continued to whiz across the street. Clive continued to throw them back. And he’d visit when we had company. Life went about as usual – until I took a sudden and scary plunge in my health to the point where I had trouble getting out of bed. Fatigue became my worst enemy and our social life pretty much crumpled and ceased. Multiple sclerosis does that to people.
Every ounce of my energy was consumed and now I had to be careful where I chose to spend the little I had. The social life tends to get dropped first. I tried to explain this to Clive, but I’m not sure he understood why he was rarely getting invited over anymore.
Life tends to put us on a collision course and I believe this is what happened to Clive after he fell at home and broke his back in three places just a few months back. I was struggling along, barely getting to reach him in the hospital. He came home, went back in the hospital and came home again. The pattern repeated. His friends and neighbors pitched in to help, one watering his lawn and picking up his newspapers. Others ran errands. Most everyone went to the hospital.
Being in and out of the hospital weeks at a time wears on anyone’s soul and it wore on Clive's. The last time I saw him leaving his home, he was a mere shadow of himself and I knew then he wasn’t coming back.
I felt awful that I wasn’t there for him and worse that he probably couldn’t understand why all those invites had evaporated. Then there came a Sunday when friends of the family dropped by to let us know that Clive no longer wanted to be on a ventilator and it would be turned off that morning. His sons sent them over to ask if we wanted to say goodbye.
Jim and I raced to the hospital and everyone was crying. We held his hand in an awkward silence and I began questioning myself about what I could have done better, all the things I could have done, but didn’t do because of my own situation. I was angry because I knew he looked forward to those times at our house and it might have helped pull him out of that downward spiral. At this point, Clive couldn't speak, but he could hear us.
"Look Dad," Ian told his father, who was now shy of being just a whisper of himself, "your party buddies are here to wish you goodbye."
He couldn't say anything, so I hope that it was enough for him to know that we were there.
It’s such a loss and I feel lonely looking out my window, wishing he was still there, wearing his tan-colored cap, watering his rose bushes or driving his royal blue convertible back into his garage so we could banter more about Churchill and our English roots.
While I feel sad, and will for quite some time, I believe Clive would rather that we celebrate his life than be so forlorn.
When January approaches, and if his sons agree, I will celebrate Clive’s life – with a small handful of neighbors and folks who came to know and respect him – and in his honor we will have a wee bit of Scotch and perhaps, just perhaps, he will know we toasted to his life.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
HALLELUJAH! SAN PEDRO HIGH WILL BE GETTING A NEW SATELLITE CAMPUS IN FOUR YEARS WITH A COMPETITIVE POOL, SOCCER AND BASEBALL FIELDS NOT TO MENTION THE REMARKABLE LEARNING GEMS THAT EXIST THERE ALREADY FROM MARINE MAMMALS TO OBSERVING WILDLIFE
By Diana L. Chapman
All I can say is Hallelujah and I know I’m going to get nailed for it. Hopefully, I’ll be alive after this column and I’ll be able to continue writing my novel which is about three-quarters of the way done.
But I can’t help but be enthused about the 800-seat campus the Los Angeles School Board voted for this week proposed for completion at Angel’s Gate in 2012 on nearly 23 acres of scrubby coastal land that has virtually gone unused for years except for a handful of small programs.
Not only do I perceive it as a dream school – a place tucked above the Pacific Ocean where white caps and red-tailed hawks can be spotted daily -- there’s no question in my mind – if the community plays it right – more than just students will experience this gem.
While we have a whirlwind of opposition – with arguments regarding traffic woes and disturbing the serenity of the area, the fact is that high school students need it desperately to reduce the intense overcrowding at San Pedro High School. That is the truth.
Everyone’s truth is different. But I can assure you here and now that it’s bad at San Pedro with the overcrowding and if we don’t do something, we will be raising a lot more criminals here than students who want to go off to college. The school has 3,500 students when it was built for 2,000. Our test scores are abysmal, our math in particular dropping to 657, not much higher than many inner-city schools.
And sadly, many high school students explain that their freshman year starts out crushed with students, but by the end of their years, about 50 percent of the students who they started with have vanished. They dropped out. Even with that, the school is still intensely overcrowded with about 17 teachers having to roam from room to room.
Out of scale of 0-100, City.Data.com reports that San Pedro High school in the state of California falls in the bottom of the ladder as 34. That’s heartbreaking and its embarrassing, especially when so many people here haveacollege degrees and are brilliant, highly educated people.
Our community can’t have it both ways. We believe the children in our village should be good, smart and respectful. They shouldn’t act like they are ghetto children. They shouldn’t do drugs, commit crimes, or become pregnant. But you know the old adage: you get out what you put in. It appears to me our town hasn’t invested much in our kids.
To do so, you start with the second home they are at – their school, no matter what level, elementary, junior high or otherwise. If I’m a student, I’m looking at every time the community gets completely riled and fights against every location for a new school. The message becomes clear to kids: maybe they don’t want us.
So I’d like for everyone to take a deep breath – and rather than fighting the district against this – work with them to make sure this proposed $102.5 million beauty will help all of us. For instance, if you live in the area, and want to use the pool, then perhaps it’s good time sit down – as a community – to put on the pressure to ensure that happens.
The district has already said it’s willing to make it a joint use with the city of Los Angeles, but if we want to have access to the facilities there, such as soccer fields, baseball fields and use rooms for meetings the time to focus on that is now. We can’t let down our guard on this, or this too will fall by the wayside.
Down the road, residents I truly believe will see this as a good thing – especially when more of our children march through the awesome educational marvels that already exist there -- the Marine Mammal Care Center, The Fort MacArthur Museum, the International Bird Rescue Center and the unbelievable flourishing art colony.
Imagine for just a moment using those tools in a child’s education and what our kids could receive.
--With this location, elementary and junior high students from all over San Pedro will probably undergo many field trips at any one of those gems I’ve named above and if all goes well, the high school students will be their teachers. These type of facilities make once boring lessons come to life – and that is why Debra Hetrick with Los Angeles Unified School District’s after school program -- worked exceptionally hard to build an outdoor education center there. That center will break ground this January and elementary children from all over the district will be able to stay for a week studying geology, biologyand spot the wild creatures from foxes to raccoons at the site. School officials said the new campus and the outdoor education center will be a boon for each other and they will share their resources.
--With this awesome state-of-the-art green building (meaning this facility will have vegetation on the roof top and wind turbines for energy), San Pedro High could build such an educational resource site that it would gain a good reputation throughout Los Angeles. Where there is a good reputation for schools, property values go up. It seems to me that White Point Elementary School has an excellent reputation and has long been considered one of the top in town. Home values have remained high, despite the morning and afternoon crowds for pick-up and drop-off.
You are going to argue that this is different because these are high school kids. I'd like to invite you to meet some of these students. You might be surprised by what you see.
--The students likely will come from the Marine Magnet and the Police Academy at San Pedro High. While at first I was worried that all the students in San Pedro wouldn’t get a shot at using this facility, I felt much better when I talked with Sandy Alvarenga, San Pedro High’s coordinator for both mini-schools, who assured me that she would be open to many schools coming in for field trips. Calling the new school location “optimal” for education, she added: “It’s just the natural history of the marine magnet to work with schools from all over. Our kids already do ‘Back Pack Science’ with Point Fermin Elementary school.
For those who disagree with the new campus, I’d love you to take classes for one week at San Pedro High School so you can see first hand what the students live with. I’ve long thought we had a powder keg for a high school – especially due to the overcrowding. I was so worried, I sent my son to Port of Los Angeles High Charter School.
Here is our chance – as a village – to make sure we sit on the district and get what we want from this sparkling gem that – if we do it right – will spread it’s rays across all the kids of San Pedro and perhaps to even us, the adults.
--The students likely will come from the Marine Magnet and the Police Academy at San Pedro High. While at first I was worried that all the students in San Pedro wouldn’t get a shot at using this facility, I felt much better when I talked with Sandy Alvarenga, San Pedro High’s coordinator for both mini-schools, who assured me that she would be open to many schools coming in for field trips. Calling the new school location “optimal” for education, she added: “It’s just the natural history of the marine magnet to work with schools from all over. Our kids already do ‘Back Pack Science’ with Point Fermin Elementary school.
For those who disagree with the new campus, I’d love you to take classes for one week at San Pedro High School so you can see first hand what the students live with. I’ve long thought we had a powder keg for a high school – especially due to the overcrowding. I was so worried, I sent my son to Port of Los Angeles High Charter School.
Here is our chance – as a village – to make sure we sit on the district and get what we want from this sparkling gem that – if we do it right – will spread it’s rays across all the kids of San Pedro and perhaps to even us, the adults.
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