Christmas Cards

I've received the first two Christmas cards of the season. The first was from one of the volunteers, with a nice message about getting everything you wish for. The other is from Zirpu's stepbrother and his family with a message about how Jesus came "for you and me" and, strangely, a school picture of the older child but not one of the younger one.


I must admit that I don't like receiving Christmas cards. I like receiving kids' photos for the brag board, especially since the kids change so much and it's fun to compare last year's photo with this year's. So those of you who send me Christmas cards, please don't stop doing so because I really do appreciate them! Even the ones with newsletters in them!


But I don't send Christmas cards myself. This might be because I'm lazy and might be because I'm rather ambivalent about Christmas. Also I figure that I've been in contact with everyone during the year to whom I might send a Christmas card (if I were a Christmas card sender) and I hope they know that I wish them joy and prosperity and love all the time. Still, when someone distant sends a Christmas card, I feel guilty: I should send them one too! But if I do it this year I'm committed and I don't want to set a precedent.


I've actually been wondering if I should give Christmas cards to my volunteers. A lot of them are older, and therefore old school, and it would be a simple way to thank them for their work this past year. I don't want to seem as if I were raised in a barn. I do, when asked, come across as not-Christian (though gently), which should get me off the hook. I don't have any kids or animals to get photo cards made (which Shmeen tells me are difficult to find without a Christmas theme) to send out, though that sounds like the easiest option.



Of course I have to make a decision soon, which means that I might get away without making any decision because eventually it will be too late.

An Attitude of Gratitude

I feel grateful because or for:


First and foremost, the love of my family and friends and the love I have for them.

Also, I have the best husband in the world.


In no particular order except for how the following occur to me:

No and KT finally got married
...and that I got to go to Mexico with a big bunch of people I like because of the wedding

Lizard and Batman, Bug and Boy, and the babies that arrived this year

My job at the food bank and being able to afford to work there

Having a boss who notices when I do a good job and is willing to coach me when I need help

The Bi Women's Group

The support from Boegle and Tea to write this blog

Perspective and humor

E-mail

Blessings I receive from clients

Food bank volunteers, in their wide range of character, age, and experience

Being able to help a couple friends make things happen

Health and strength and safety

Another Jon Carroll Thanksgiving column that says what I want to say

My Part

The thing I find hardest about facilitating the Bi Women's Group is how I feel afterwards. I spend at least an hour wondering if I did a good job. Which is to say, I spend an hour off-and-on wondering if every person in the meeting had the best possible meeting she could have had, and should I or could I have done something differently to make that happen? Were everyone's needs met? Was it meaningful that this person or that person said so little? Did we talk about all the topics that people were burning to discuss? If it was a very talky group, should I have controlled it more closely? If it was a very quiet group, did I do everything I could have to spark conversation?


I've had this discussion with a couple of the other facilitators, and today,finally, with all of them. I've been told that I expect too much of myself and that the structure of the meeting doesn't really lend itself to controlling. It's "peer-facilitated" and everyone is responsible for speaking up if she has something to say. That's even in the guidelines we read at the start of every meeting. I have a hard time integrating that, though, and I feel especially responsible to new members or to members I perceive to be shy.


This week I had an experience which somehow is making me start to "get it." I know that I don't really feel this way yet, but something happening at the beginning and the end of the meeting that really feels like "People get the meeting they are willing to sit through." I don't have to be the one who changes the discussion to make sure we cover something someone mentioned, or to steer away from a topic that seems to be making people uncomfortable. I've been seeing that as my job, and I feel like I have consistently been unable to make that happen. There are so many unknowns in a meeting, with different personalities, moods, and needs, and the dynamics change all the time, and the meeting changes from week to week so it's just a fact of life that every meeting won't suit every person who attends.


Perhaps there's hope that I will eventually detach from feeling so responsible for others' experience. That's their part, not mine.

Good from Bad

Today was a tough day for me at the food bank. Not only did we move this week and are still working out the kinks, but we have been really busy each day, with about twice as many people each day as we normally serve. We served 200 households this week, when we've been serving about 100. I've been told to expect more of the same for the next two months.


Most of today I felt like I was being pulled in several directions at the same time. I think I said "I haven't forgotten you" about six times to different people. The phone was ringing constantly and half the callers just wanted to chat, so I had to walk that fine line of getting off the phone quickly while allowing them to feel heard. At one point I was so frustrated I had to take a five minute walk away from the site.


I did feel really supported by the volunteers today. This is a crew I don't know as well as I know the weekday crews because we don't have service every Saturday. But when I was walking out I told one of them he was in charge and when I came back he was handling a parking situation, a job I usually would have done (as paid staff, the Food Bank Director or I usually play the heavy). He and three others checked in with me to make sure I was okay.

Best of all, five volunteers stayed until I locked up the building and even walked with me to my car. Again, I really felt supported by the volunteers, and when I called the FBD he was just as supportive as they. So as frustrating as work was today was, what I'm feeling is appreciation and gratitude for my food bank people.

Facilitating and Structure

You all know I really care about the bi women's group to which I belong. I started going in early 2001, to connect with women - not because I was cruising, but because I was dating a male redneck and hanging out with a lot of men. It's been over six years and I have seen a lot of changes in the membership, the people who came regularly stopped coming and then new people started coming regularly, and then the "new" people stopped being "new" and, these days, most of my intimate friends are women I met through the group.


After a while it was clear to me that I should have taken the facilitators' training the Pacific Center offered, at that time, twice a year, but I didn't. Most of the times the all-day course was offered were times I couldn't attend, like days that conflicted with dance events. For a long time, though, I didn't take the training and become a facilitator because I didn't think that I would be a very good one.


I am really attached to structure, and as I write this I realize it is not as true as it used to be, but it is still true. The facilitator of the group is, most of the time, a member of the group who makes the announcements and watches the time. She doesn't really guide or lead the conversation or do much policing. Except for the few occasions when crazy things have happened,the group sort of leads itself (it's true that for the most part our group is fairly well-mannered and most people seem to have an idea of how groups like this work).


I thought that I would get really uncomfortable with things just going as they might go, if they veered at all outside the group guidelines or if people didn't exactly "behave." So I thought that being a facilitator wouldn't work for me, would reduce my enjoyment of the group, and, more importantly, impact what other people might experience. I tend to get a little protective of individuals and it's sometimes hard for me to allow them to have their own experiences about whatever is going on. I finally became a facilitator a couple years ago and for the most part facilitating groups has been going well for me.


I thought my attachment to structure would impact my ability to facilitate, but the other night while talking to Desi it occurred to me that my attachment to structure could be impacting my ability to be a facilitator, a member of the facilitating team. There are, technically, nine of us, though two of us are out of town this summer, and I'm not sure how involved a couple others actually are. It's a non-hierarchical organization, which I find really frustrating, which is why I took over as the Facs' Facilitator.


Recently some things have come up with the group that have me full of questions and frustrations about some ongoing trends that may or may not continue or may or may not rise again if they do stop now. I'm feeling like we have to make some decisions about how we are going to handle this thing or this other thing. While talking to Desi I noticed how rigid I'm getting about the general purpose and outline of the group, and I find myself wondering if it's because I'm getting rigid in general. Maybe I'm stressed out and just trying to control what goes on in my life. I'm talking about it as if I'm protecting other people's space, but I think I feel protective of my space.


When I'm not actually facilitating a meeting, I wonder if my being a facilitator is serving anyone. I'm not sure it is serving me, and it's because of a different take on my need for structure than I thought it would be.

A change in my direction

I won't be volunteering at the food bank anymore.


I'll be working there for wages. The volunteer coordinator gave her notice shortly before the director would be going on parental leave, and between them they decided that the director would ask me to take over the job for a few months to get the food bank through a couple of big transitions. The director knew that he would not have time to do a full candidate search and train someone before the VC planned to leave when he knew he would be out for a couple weeks with the new baby.


I knew this was coming. For one thing, the VC had told me that she was planning to leave when she finished her degree, and that when she had had to suddenly go home for a few weeks in March she told the director at that time that he could and should rely on me. In one of our conversations, I remarked, lightly, that I would "do her job" when she left. I didn't know the timing was going to practically coincide with the parental leave, but it has. When the director came to me a couple weeks ago and asked if I would be willing to take on additional responsibility and "be a key holder" I let him talk himself out, to see what he was thinking, even though I knew I would say yes.


So, this volunteering thing has led where I wanted it to: a "real" job at the food bank. It is just through August and anything could happen then, like I could not want to do it anymore, or the board of directors could decide they want to do a full candidate search (for whatever reasons) and not hire me. That's okay because that's the position I would be in anyway.


I'm feeling sad about losing all of the time I have now to do whatever I want whenever I want (I guess I'll be at the gym much earlier in the morning, for example). But that's another position I would be in eventually anyway, unless Zirpu wins the lottery. I'm going from working 16-20 hours a week to full time, though the hours aren't all 9 to 5. I'll be working two Saturdays a month, but I'll have the preceding Thursdays off in trade, and the Saturdays are half-days.


There are exciting things happening at the food bank this summer: We're getting a new building and will temporarily be in a couple of different locations while they take away the old double-wide trailer and bring us a triple. We will also be going electronic, which just in itself will probably result in some volunteer turnover. I'll get to be part of all of that!



I'm not that concerned about transitioning from volunteer to employee. I'm already kind of bossy so I don't think most people will find it odd to be suddenly taking my "suggestions." A lot of the volunteers seem to be pretty committed to the mission and are, for the most part, really easygoing. No one is there because they need the paycheck or the retirement plan, like people I knew at the state university.


I start tomorrow.

A Down And Up Day

We served 37 households at the food bank today. We had pre-cut melon, fruit salad, prepackaged salads, strawberries, six flats of mushrooms, tomatoes, leeks, beets, cheese, yogurt, eggs, and some other random things. At the end of the day we had some mushrooms, a few salads, and some of the random stuff left, plus some eggs (usually we go through them all but we had sooooo many! I don't know what is going on with inventory ordering at the store that donates to us).


One of the people who comes to the food bank is a young man in his mid-20s who has been doing data entry for the FB as a volunteer. He only comes to the FB when there aren't a lot of people around, because being around people scares him. He suffers from (at least) serious depression, and he doesn't like to take his medication because of the side effects. He didn't sound suicidal today, saying that he was trying hard to take care of himself so he didn't destroy himself, but he is clearly in bad shape. He doesn't want to go to the hospital or his therapist because they will only medicate him and he doesn't want to suffer the side effects. He talked to the volunteer coordinator for awhile, but she doesn't know what to tell him.


When we were running our program, we had some people "piled up" waiting. Our operation is that a volunteer calls the number that the client got when she or he signed in and then while one person is getting the pre-set boxes and the meat or fish, the client selects the produce, dairy, and eggs that we have out. They go down the counter (sort of) and when all of the client's stuff is together, then the next person is called. The process works about as quickly as a grocery store with one checker. I was the number caller and while I was waiting for some of my coworkers to help a client, I overheard a woman complaining into her cell phone that our "process is really f---d up... It's really slow."


When I called her number and she got up, I thanked her for waiting and apologized that it seemed a long wait. She immediately placed a call on her cell phone and I said, "This process will go quicker if you get off the phone." Yes, it was snarky but I was annoyed. I was trying to help her, after all, and she was being really arrogant. Of course she did not get off her phone, though I think I heard her say that she would call the person back (who must have ignored her, because she was still on the phone when she was choosing bread).


Late in the afternoon, like at almost 4pm when there was almost no one in the FB, a woman signed in and when I asked her how she was, she said she was blessed. "I woke up this morning and someone else didn't." She went on to tell me that she was feeling particularly blessed. She said she had struggled with her "German pride" but had finally come in because she was hungry and we had food. She has gotten a good paying job that starts in a couple weeks, had gotten away from a dangerous domestic situation in another state that she was in for more than five years, and had gotten her daughter on a trip out of the country. She was feeling happy, blessed, and grateful that things are good and getting better - and that we had all this great food for her to take home and cook. She gave me a hug when she was done getting produce.


Almost the last people we served were a man, about 40, wearing slacks and a white shirt, and a woman who had the kind of big smile that makes you think of toothpaste. She signed up and did the paperwork, and went down the counter with me getting produce; he looked tired and hot, and sat in a chair. The woman was happy. Happy that she could get food from us, happy with the selection when I explained what was in the pre-set box and bag (for a household of four), and happy that we had eggs and salads left when she got there. She was also happy, she told me, because they had just gotten the word that her husband had been hired at a new job. I gave her a high five (we do this a lot at our dance studio and it's become a habit) and congratulated the husband.


It's nice to end the day with smiles and gratitude, and hugs. It's totally not necessary, of course. But it feels good.

What was Odyssey?

Recently I've been thinking a lot about my Camp Odyssey experience, which was transformative at the same time that it was difficult. Without comparing Odyssey to Peoples Temple, seeing that movie about Jonestown and reading Raven (which I got from the library) has me thinking about my own experience with "trying to change the world."


Camp Odyssey was an immersion diversity training for youth and adults. When I was on staff, I (and others, obviously) worked with youth entering 10th through 12th grades and examined all the "isms" - racism, sexism, heterosexism, prejudice against immigrants, ageism, and even touched on classism (when I moved back to California we were thinking about working more class issues into the curriculum). Everyone who attended was split into ethnic groups according to their identification, into gender groups, and into sharing circles which were carefully balanced for ethnic identity and gender. Each group would meet with each other group to talk about stereotypes and then the sharing circles would meet to process the experiences of the day. It is very difficult to explain, and it was really really intense.


One of the things I believed was that Odyssey was led by some amazing, fabulous, dedicated people who saw things clearly. I also felt like a lot of the "regular" staff people were pretty amazing as well - Odyssey consisted of two demanding weekends and one really demanding week each year and we all worked very hard during those times. Ironically, the person who was the Camp Director was not someone I believed was any of those things. He and I didn't like each other, and I thought it was because I was in the not-straight group and the only strongly-identified bi person in Camp for the time I was involved, which was about two years, I knew it, and he knew that I knew it. Also, I have a memory of heated disagreements between us, including at Advisory Council meetings when I was in the leadership circle.


I don't know where the curriculum came from, though some of it came from other diversity programs and some of it grew out of the work that had been going on. When I got involved in 1996 Odyssey had been around for about three years (it only lasted maybe two years after I left). There were several two or three day adult trainings a year, but Odyssey was really focused on the Camp for youth which lasted for one week in late June. After Camp in 1997 I "forgot" to turn in my script/agenda/curriculum and while I haven't looked at it in years I haven't been ready to shred it.


Hard as it was, I loved Odyssey. I thought the things we did were important and there are lessons I carry to this day. I wonder what the people who were 14 to 18 years old at the time think now of that experience (some of them are as old now as I was then). We had some guidelines that were posted on a banner in the main hall, and I have found them pretty good guidelines to live by, some of which I see now are woven together for me:

Be honest

Take risks - a hard one for me, being naturally risk-averse.

Respect others

Close the loop - it's not always easy to follow up when I think I've offended someone or when someone has offended me, but working it out means I don't have to fret about it anymore.

Take responsibility for Self - this ranges from going when I need to go to the bathroom to being responsible for doing something stupid or hurtful.

Use "I" statements - I joke that my favorite "I" statement is "I feel you are a jerk" but I've noticed I get heard more easily if I really do say "I feel X when Y" and "It's been my experience that..."


There's more to write about Odyssey but not today. Odyssey was hugely important part of my growing up, even though I was 27 when I got involved. I don't think I would be the person I am today if I hadn't had that experience.

You can read this

But thirty million Americans can't. The lowest level of literacy in this country is defined as being able to read a bus schedule or total a deposit slip and about 15% of us can't do that. An additional 63 million of us can do that but not much else, which means that they aren't reading to their kids, succeeding in the classroom, working in higher-level positions, or even completing detailed paperwork (like a job application or insurance disclosure) without assistance. All of this is according to the National Assessment of Adult Literacy study done in 2003.


I attended an orientation last week as part of the Literacy Plus program at the library. It was the first step of training; there are all-day trainings both of the next two Saturdays and a follow-up shortly after we are matched with our first "tutees." There were eight people at the orientation, one man, seven women; three retirees; two people who work in schools; four under forty; one who was a literacy tutor in Atlanta before moving here.


We talked about the different roles in which one reads: Family member, someone who pays bills and makes household decisions; worker; community member; and life-long learner. The person leading the orientation asked us to think about what we did that day and separate all the reading we did into the different roles we had played. I hadn't really done much that day except stop by the bank on my way to a healthy checkup appointment in Oakland, but when I broke it down it sounded like a lot.

A) As a family member, I deposited a check, read the Patient's Right to Privacy document requiring my signature, and avoided getting a ticket by reading the street-sweeping-no-parking sign.

B) As a worker, well, I hadn't worked that day at the food bank or the Homework Help program, but I had read the news and the blogs I follow as well as the alumni magazine so I could write this later that evening. Of course I sent and received multiple emails about a number of things.

C) As a community member, I followed the directions to the clinic, and when I got lost getting back to the highway (which often happens to me in Oakland) I read the street signs and the "Entrance 880 North" signs while trying to get back to an 880 South entrance.

D) As a life-long learner, I read the instructions for the appointment (which told me to avoid ingesting anything but water before the appointment), read a memoir while waiting for my appointment, and reviewed the nurse practitioner's summary sheet at the end of the appointment.


I've been reading since before I can remember, and I don't even notice it unless I'm looking at a computer screen or holding a book. The people who had gone into an office and worked that day had even more detailed lists than I, and I was staggered by my own list. Are you?

FA, Far away

Two months ago I wrote about how I used to identify with being a Financial Aid Administrator. These days I feel like that is far, far away. In fact, I feel closer to my job at Letty Owings, which I left in 1998, than I do to being an FAA, even though I just left that last year.


An acquaintance of mine writes a blog called "Finding the Right College." In January I wrote a post for his blog, and I offered to write another one about how to read award letters. Finally I did, but it took me a couple weeks to actually sit down and do it. When I did, I felt like I was going into the back room in my mom's basement to get something I haven't used in a long time. I had to check FinAid because I remembered hearing that USED was going to raise the loan limit for freshmen but I haven't been paying close enough attention to the CASFAA listserv to know for sure if they did.


There is a huge student-loan scandal going on right now, and I probably was acquainted with people at at least one of the schools involved and I knew lots of people on the lender's side. I know that if I were still an FAA I would be talking about this with my colleagues every day, but I'm out of touch with all but one of my friends from what I think of as my FA days. Because I'm not an FAA now, the scandal is barely a blip on my radar screen.


At the same time, the CASFAA newsletter editor had sent out a request for news for the "Transitions" section of the newsletter. Usually these announcements are people's news about new jobs, marriages, or babies (it seems like there are a lot of people in FA, but in fact it's a small industry: If you didn't work with someone once, someone you work with now used to). I decided to send in a little announcement about what I'm doing, and I really had to work hard to come up with something that sounds like I plan to return to higher ed at the end of this "year on." What I sent in was pretty weak, but it was something.


It was hard to write the "Transitions" thing because I'm not totally sure I will return to FA. Anything can happen in a year and no one knows what's going to happen (least of all me, which is why this blog is called "Always Learning" and not, for example, "Always Right") so I'm not shutting the door in any way. Like I said above, though: FA seems far away. It feels like I'm moving in a line away from it rather than in a parabola.

Imagine The Longest Time

I went to the Friends and Family Concert by East Bay Harmony this evening after the food bank. I had volunteered to help sell raffle tickets; the F&F Concert is their big fundraiser. The concert was at the Lake Merritt Dance Center, in a beautiful ballroom with a big stage.

East Bay Harmonizers listen to Mark Bernfield, the director, introducing "Loch Lomond"

The songs they sang were:

Come Go With Me
Happy Together
Fyer Fyer (a 16th century madrigal - "I cry help me... and no help comes")
Weep O Mine Eyes (another 16th century madrigal - "I love you and you don't love me")
The Lion Sleeps Tonight
That’ll Be the Day
Na Na Hey, Hey
Son of a Preacher Man Ring of Fire
E Oru O ("The king comes to the marketplace")
In the Still of the Night
Ning Wendete ("I love you, you don't love me, why is that so?")
Loch Lomond
Imagine
The Longest Time
Blue Moon (this was introduced with "True love only happens once in... a baker's dozen?")
Ain't Misbehavin'
Because (arranged by a current member of the chorus)
Gonna Build a Mountain

The encore was "Imagine" with the audience singing the melody and the chorus singing the backup. It's an Oakland-Berkeley chorus and I suspect that since 2001 that song has a special place in its heart.


Most of the concert was the full chorus, with about forty members, but several songs were sung by small groups, four or five people. Only the women sang "Preacher Man" and only the men sang "Ring of Fire."

One of the five-member groups sang "The Longest Time," which has a special place in my heart. In the fall of 2001, I was learning this song with the chorus while I was falling in love with Zirpu.

"And the greatest miracle of all
Is how I need you
And how you needed me, too..."

Talking about our lives

I've mentioned before that I am one of the facilitators of the Bi Women's Group at the Pacific Center. I have sort of named myself Facilitator of the Facilitators, mostly because it's how I know that things will get done. What I mean is, it keeps me comfortable. I'm into structure, ya know, with four planets in Virgo. I haven't gotten the sense that anyone else wants to do it, or resents my coup.


The BWG has been in the doldrums since sometime last fall. The meetings were small and it didn't often feel like anything was really going on. We had moved to a larger room in the summer to accommodate the 15-18 women who were coming, and then for months there were five or six people coming (or fewer!), including the facilitator. With five people, even if there is only one person who is uncertain about speaking or how the group works, the dynamics of the whole meeting are affected: There would be low energy, scattered topics, silence, and discomfort with silence.


Two weeks ago there were eight people at the meeting, six of us "oldtimers," and last week there were thirteen, with four "oldtimers." Both weeks the topics were interesting and meaty, flirting and identity, respectively. I'm hoping and hopeful that we've moved out of the doldrums and will be picking up in people and in conversation. A friend suggested that with the start of Daylight Savings and the change in the weather perhaps people will start showing up: The two-hour meeting starts at 8pm and that feels a lot later when it's dark and chilly outside.


I really believe that our group provides an important service. Sometimes I've felt it more keenly than at other times, like when a woman says that she thinks maybe she should break up with her boyfriend because she is realizing she likes women also, or when someone asks how can she legitimately call herself bi before she's kissed a woman, or when someone's girlfriend tells her she has to make up her mind.


I started going to this group because at the time I had a lot of male energy in my life. I had been dating men, my friends at work were largely men, and I hung out at AsiaSF with the bartenders, who at the time were all men. I wasn't looking to date women, I was just looking for women. I've met some really great women and made wonderful friends through the group, talking over relationships, families, politics, sexism, heterosexism, identity, every subject you can imagine. Someone I really respect says that because we are bi, everything in our lives is bi-related. We talk about our lives.


Now I see my role as a sort of "elder stateswoman." I have been out as bi for a very long time, and I've been a member of the group for six years, and at Camp Odyssey I was the "Bi Speaker." I feel like I want to be a resource for others, the way I wish I had had a resource when I came out. A little story from those days: My girlfriend and I thought we may had met someone who would be a resource for us, and then she said she wasn't a feminist. Not that being queer means you have to be a feminist, but at the time we couldn't see any other way. I still remember the shock I felt when she said that.


I feel privileged to be one of the group's facilitators, all women whom I find it a pleasure to know and work with (or goof off with, or go out with, or march with). Our group serves women with all kinds of experiences, backgrounds, and lifestyles, ones who talk a lot and ones who come back week after week and say little or nothing. We don't know how we're serving them, but clearly we are. We facilitators are just like the women who attend the meetings. We are bi and we are anyone.

The most exciting blog post ever!

Tuesday 2/27/07

Well friends, I did not write every day while I was at Playa Fiesta attending my brother and sister-in-law's wedding and celebration. The thing is, if there's an opportunity to hang out with people I like, I will take that over anything else. If there's a party, I want to be there. Sleep is optional when fun is possible. I saw this same trait in my mother this last week, which I'd never really noticed before. If there's something going on, she doesn't want to miss it and will stay up or or stick around until she just can't anymore.

Since I can't write when I'm with other people, I didn't. I did write a few of the days, and I thought about writing the other days. So what follows is either what I actually wrote, or thought about blogging about on those days.

Sunday 2/18/07

No looks so happy. I don't really know how to describe it. He just looks really really healthy. KT is beyond perma-grin and into perma-laughter.

Completing my visa application presented me with a puzzle. Part of the information the form requests is your “occupation.” I didn't want to write “unemployed” and I should have written “volunteer” but I guess I thought someone would actually look at it closely, compile statistics, and that wasn't specific enough. I wondered if I should write “homemaker” because I don't really feel like I'm doing whatever “homemaking” is (do I picture Laura Ingalls Wilder's Ma, out on the prairie making a home out of an underground sod house?). I didn't know what else would be the right thing to write. I couldn't even justify it in a global way of “By volunteering I'm making Hayward, Berkeley, and San Francisco more home-like, more livable.”

So “homemaker” it was. What difference does it make, anyway? And yet it's another word whose meaning I have to try on, like “wife,” and make of it what I will. If I have to.

Side note: A couple days after I wrote this I was discussing with a man who is another brother, who is a stay-at-home dad. I asked him what he wrote on that line and he said he wrote “House Dad” and chuckled.

Monday 2/20/07

Last night I was dancing with one of my brother's father-in-laws, doing some salsa, which he and KT's mother are really into, and showing him some basic rumba. Later Charlie, one of the bartenders, complimented me on my “beautiful and strong legs.” Wow! I feel like if I hadn't shaved my legs he wouldn't have seen them at all. It was odd to get a compliment on my legs when I've always felt insecure about them for one reason or another. I think my relationship with my legs has changed somewhat, also: Since the car accident and the resultant physical therapy and weight training I see them more as helpful machines, and as such I am more aware of what they do for me rather than how they look.

Charlie also said that I don't dance like a gringa.

I had a quintessential No experience today. He and I were going to meet a couple for breakfast at a restaurant called Spiaggia, owned by – surprise! - a friend of No's from fifteen years ago. We were going to meet at noon and left Playa Fiesta at 1230. It's not so much that No and KT are late to everything as it is that minutes aren't necessarily as short in their world as they are in ours. Plus, we were in Mexico and on vacation.

Here's something you don't see in California: Your brother drinking a light beer, before breakfast, while driving you.

Tuesday 2/21/07

Waiting for people to arrive is as fun as arriving. It reminded me a lot of the second and third year of summer camp when the parents drove the campers up and we sat around the main courtyard waiting for last year's friends to arrive. The anticipation was exciting, and I would look up each time I heard someone on the stairs. Zirpu's plane was due in at 230, and I didn't go to the restroom or back to our room and I didn't hang out at the bar flirting with Charlie so I could watch the entrance. The nice thing about Playa Fiesta was that everyone staying at the hotel was there for the wedding. If I didn't know someone when they arrived, I knew I would soon.

KT made these little booklets with a picture and a name, like a yearbook. I plan to have everyone sign mine. I know I am a dork.

Wednesday 2/21/07

Psycopat's mother and I went jewelry shopping. She has good taste and a good eye, knows what she's talking about and what things are worth; in fact she was the one No asked to take him ring shopping. Additionally, she can do the negotiating/bargaining thing very well.

I realized that I have felt like Americans coming to Mexico to vacation is a kind of arrogant imperialism (I guess too many liberals at my college, ha ha), solely based on what I thought Mexico was like. And I know Puerto Vallarta isn't representative of Mexico any more than Palm Springs or Lahaina or Fort Lauderdale is of the US, but I realized in the cab yesterday that 1) I felt that way about Americans coming to these resort towns in Mexico and 2) that it isn't true, that Americans coming to Vallarta is all part of the tourist trade, the way Japanese tourists in SF are. Which is an interesting way for me to observe my own inner prejudice or at least preconceived notions (toward traveling Americans). A dollar is a dollar and just because pesos are valued the way they are doesn't mean that I am oppressing the cab driver or anyone because I have dollars and don't really speak the language.

Side notes: I suppose this little reverie just shows how untraveled I am, especially in comparison to my many peripatetic friends.

Later it turned out that that trip into downtown caused a lot of my Spanish to come flooding back. By the time I got back to Playa Fiesta I was able to have entire conversations with the (mostly bilingual) staff in Spanish without having to repeat “Una mas, despacio, por favor” after every sentence. I could only communicate in the present tense, but I could communicate pretty well, and I could definitely understand. I am particularly proud of completely understanding the salsero at the fiesta Cubana even though I thought at the time maybe I hadn't.

Thursday 2/22/07

I had a long conversation with Saj, someone No and I grew up with – and “grow up with” we did, as I remember, kind of, when he was born – I definitely have memories of him as a toddler. No and he were inseparable as kids. He came late to the wedding because of a family health issue (about which we, too, are concerned), but come he did. I've always thought of Saj as a very quiet person – none of my memories of him as a kid include him talking. But Thursday night he talked to me for maybe even as long as two hours about relationship issues. That sounds so evasive and incomplete, but it's not my story to tell and I don't think Saj would appreciate it if I were more specific. I've always told people Saj is quiet, that he always hangs back and listens, participating quietly in whatever is going on. Part of that conversation was me thinking, “He's not quiet at all. I'll have to change how I describe him” and “Not only is he talking, but he's talking about women. Hmm.”

To me it sounded like a lot of drama, probably caused by all parties, even ones outside. I'm sorry that Saj's women troubles are making him sad (or mad, or confused, or whatever) but it did cause me to have a When Harry Met Sally -type moment with Allan the next morning:

Marie (Sally's best friend): Tell me I'll never have to be out there again.

Jess (Harry's best friend): You'll never have to be out there again.

It's not about the other people at all. It's about recognizing and appreciating what you have.

Friday 2/23/07

My most chilled-out bridesmaid experience ever. The wedding was scheduled for 530; I got out of the pool at 330. Since I don't have any hair, and I wasn't going to be required to wear makeup, all I needed to do was put on my dress, and I wanted to wait until the last minute because I was going to be wearing a corset underneath and thought I would cook in it. I see KT all the time so I figured the other two bridesmaids, who live in NYC and Bakersfield, and she would want some of their own time together.

I cry at weddings of people I don't even know. I've said this before and I'll say it again: Look at the hope! Weddings are all about the future. When Zirpu and I got married, for me having a public ceremony was about telling my community that I was imagining my future, my far future, making a promise in front of them that my future would include this man. By bringing all these people from all over the US to Mexico, KT and No had created a wedding party community.

I won't bore you with how wonderful the ceremony was, but I will tell you that No and KT didn't write their vows and they came out very smoothly. Their part of the ceremony was totally unrehearsed and practically undiscussed between them. In one way this is typical of them: Wait so long (six years) that everything is hurry-up, and it comes off great anyhow. One of “the boys” acted as the officiant, and he said, “If there is anyone here who believes in this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace,” which updated the old version so well, and allowed us to cheer and express our support for their relationship.

Because I was in it and Allan was taking video, I don't have any pictures of the ceremony (yet anyway). Don't they look happy?

Saturday 2/24/07

Last night the toast from which I learned the most was that given by Psycopat. He and No have been friends for over 25 years, and much as I recognize that he is one of No's best friends and must have redeeming qualities, I've always found him rather obnoxious. Even if it is an act, it wears on me pretty quickly. Pyscopat's loud and funny, but I find a lot of his humor to be at others' expense and the things that come out of his mouth at times are extremely sexist and awful. Even though we've known each other for such a long time, I don't know him very well.

I made up my mind about Psycopat's character years ago. I believe he is such-and-such a way, with no soft spot in him... even though in the last few months I've come to see him as having a little bit of sensitivity in him.

Psycopat said two things during his toast that changed how I think about him. I still think he is obnoxious but now I see there's more to him than the bluster. One was that he mentioned our dad in his speech, said that Dad was present with us that day and that he (Dad) is proud of Noah. This especially moved me because Psycopat came into our lives years after Dad passed away, and doesn't have any memories of his own about him. The other thing that he did was say that he had this long quotation on his wall that he thought important to share with people, and among other things, that he wanted his (future) children to learn it. He then recited “Desiderata”:

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender,
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even to the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons;
they are vexatious to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain or bitter,
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs,
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals,
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love,
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life,
keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

Sunday 2/25/07

It is still a beautiful world, with love in it.

No and I have wedding anniversaries very close together, and for the same reason – reflecting the calendars of our respective industries' high seasons.

More coincidentally, each of us married into families with two sets of parents. KT's folks and Zirpu's folks all remarried years and years ago and now both No and I, who haven't had a father of our own in person, have two fathers-in-law as well as two mothers-in-law and our own amazing Mom.

Our family gets larger, the pie gets bigger, the world becomes smaller. The doors are open – come on in.

Monday 2/26/07

Did I mention Pia's baby was due on the 24th? He has arrived!

Welcome to the world, little one!

Fractions of tears

"Is the following statement reasonable or unreasonable? Please explain your answer.

At Fairchild Elementary, 1/2 of the children brought their lunches from home on Monday. The rest got their lunches in the cafeteria on Monday. 2/3 of the children at Fairchild Elementary ate lunch from the cafeteria on Monday."

This was the first problem on a sheet of word problems for a fifth grader I worked with yesterday. It was her homework assignment and since I'm a Homework Helper she needed my help with it. When I asked her if she thought the statement about 2/3 of the students was reasonable, she said yes. I asked, "Are you sure?" and with that cue she said, "It's unreasonable." So I asked her why she knew it was unreasonable.

She had no idea. She didn't even recognize it as a multiplication or division problem, and told me their teacher hadn't taught them how to multiply fractions yet (which I knew wasn't true). I asked her if there were 100 kids at the school, and half of them brought lunch, how many of them brought lunch. Her math was perfect: 100/1 divided by 1/2 = 50. But she couldn't tell me how many kids ate lunch in the caf if 50 kids brought lunch. Several times she insisted 2/3, because that's what was on the sheet.

We went over it several times. I told her about the magic of two: that you would always be even if you dividing by two, that two, in this case, equaled half, and halves are always even. I folded a piece of paper in half and described the sheet as "whole" and described the two halves on either side of the fold as "half," pointed out how they were absolutely even. I asked another HH for help. She came over and drew two boxes, coloring half of one of them in and coloring in 2/3 of the other one to demonstrate that 1/2 was smaller than 2/3. The girl nodded but I could tell this drawing didn't explain the concept either.

"Two thirds had lunch in the cafeteria," she would say. She even showed me how many kids were 2/3 of 100. She couldn't make the connection. It reminded me of the scene in Brave New World where Huxley describes the test run on kids, whispering facts to them while they slept. The kids would remember the facts, but only in the way they were whispered, so that while they could repeat something like, "Fifty is half of one hundred" they couldn't answer a question like "How many times does 50 go into 100?."

I realized that the student was crying. I totally understood why because I was that girl once, and I've forgotten more about fractions and word problems than she knows yet. The way I felt when I was in her position was this: "Here's this person who is explaining fractions/algebra/trigonometry to me and I don't get it. I know the explanation should make sense but I don't understand it." That was frustrating enough, but I would start feeling like the tutor was equally frustrated, and would get mad at me and think I was stupid. Most of the time I knew I wasn't stupid, but times like this made me doubt my intelligence: I should understand this, everyone else is... And that thought would oh-so-quickly turn into shame. No wonder math homework made me cry, as it did this girl yesterday.

Like my tutors did with me, I refused to give her the answer. It was her homework, and I'm old-fashioned enough (or went to strict enough schools) that I think a kid should do the homework herself. Ultimately the girl wrote on the sheet, "Unreasonable. 2/3 is bigger than 1/2" and I didn't push her on it. "Let the teacher deal with it," I thought, "It's the right answer for the wrong reason." Just like most of my geometry homework was.

Identity

"Who am I anyway?

Am I my resume'?"

- A Chorus Line

Remember how at the beginning of this project I was going to give myself a word to write on each day? I haven't been doing that, but today's word is "identity."

I used to really identify with being a Financial Aid Administrator (the way I did with being a social worker, come to think of it). Besides working for students at my schools, I was really involved in the fin aid community, sitting on our state association's committees, moderating and presenting at conferences, giving Financial Aid Night talks at high schools in the area. People knew who I was, and I was considered a "rising star" even if I say so myself. I was elected to the association's executive council against my will in 2002.

The more time goes by, the more comfortable I'm becoming with "being a member of my community." I've started talking about this as my "year on" and saying "working without pay" rather than "not working." Today when I dropped our tax information off with the CPA he said that with all the volunteering I'm doing I should track my mileage, because I can claim miles driven for volunteering the same way I can claim charitable giving.

I'm volunteering at the Hayward Public Library because I live here. I volunteer at the Pacific Center because I am a member of the LGBT community. I volunteer with the Wallenberg Community Foundation because I attended that high school. I don't have a direct connection to Alameda, but hungry people are my sisters and brothers. I've offered my financial aid expertise for Cash for College events in the area (and am waiting to hear back, still), because I've been a member of the fin aid community.

So I'm a volunteer. I usually tell people what I'm doing because a volunteer can be so many things, including a tree that grows without actually being planted by a person. My mom's yard has a couple of them, cherry trees that must have grown from seeds somehow buried when they fell from the original cherry tree.

The fact is, I don't know how to tell people "what I am." As I have found so often, a few words just aren't enough and I feel like I have to explain, to clarify, to make sure that whoever I'm talking to understands what I mean. It probably tires people out. Sometimes it tires me out.

Here's me in May '06 looking like a Buddhist nun, which I'm not.

Everything you want to know about my food bank

Here are some facts about my little food bank:

The (City of) Alameda Food Bank serves between 300-500 households a month averaging 2.5 people per household. We serve people who are primarily on fixed incomes, like disability, pensions/social security, and long term unemployment. A lot of the folks in that category are on disability, but we also serve people whose minimum-wage income primarily goes to pay the rent. 10% are seniors and 30% are families with children. While the income limit for a household of one is about $2200/month, the median income of our clients is only $850/month.

A household of two receives once a month, from our food bank, the following:
a box of cereal
two cans of fruit
two cans of vegetables
one can of soup
one can of tuna
one can of chili/corned beef hash/ravioli/spaghetti
one can of tomatoes/tomato sauce
one pound of pasta
one pound of rice
four potatoes
two apples
two oranges (soon to be two pears, as the price of oranges is about to go up sharply)
two carrots
one onion
two pounds of meat and/or fish
one jar of peanut butter
milk powder to make one quart

PLUS:
** We also include a "treat" in each box or bag that could be a package of cookies, a box of crackers, or a package of cake mix.

** People can choose from whatever fresh produce comes in, which comes from Trader Joe's and the Alameda Farmer's Market. What comes in those deliveries is totally unpredictable except that it always includes bread, egg salad, packaged salads, cooked sushi things, and flowers. Sometimes we get cheese, or a lot of eggs, or just totally random things. Starbucks sends breakfast pastries and today we got a lot of coffee from them and from Peet's.

I have a challenge for you, if you've never done this: Plan two weeks of meals with everything I've listed above. Extra points if one of your household members is under eleven years old.

If you want to know what to take to a canned food drive, canned protein is the best: Tuna, chicken, salmon, Spam. Rice, pasta, and canned or dried beans are also good choices. If you have access, and it hasn't expired, baby formula is wonderful, because of course it costs a fortune. Our food bank can also always use grocery bags.

The food bank has two paid staff and everyone else is a volunteer, some retired, some between jobs, and some with jobs that work second or third shift. Some people come to work community service hours because they are students or because they are working off traffic tickets.

It's easy to do good. Also, I receive a lot of blessings from the clients and we all can use all the blessings we can get.

Like a good neighbor...

Today when I arrived at the Alameda Food Bank the volunteer coordinator was showing a new person around, explaining how to pack the bags and boxes by family size. I usually work on Mondays, which seems to be full of long-time volunteers, but Tuesdays are apparently quiet days with a late afternoon opening rather than at 1:00 pm. For most of the morning it was just me, the new person, and the VC, and when the VC went to Trader Joe's for a pick-up, the she said I was in charge.

Whoo hoo! I haven't been there that long and I was in charge! And supervising someone! Not that packing groceries is difficult... In the 40 minutes the VC was gone we received several phone calls, including a teacher who had received chocolate and/or coffee from all her students and wanted to know if we would take it (yes, we would) and a woman who wanted to know if she and her son could come in and work some hours for his service learning requirement (yes, they could). We also packed twelve boxes and ten bags, and restocked the tables for future packing.

Volunteering has given the most shape to the past year and I wish I had started at the food bank, my third "job," earlier in the year. I started about the time I was feeling the most useless, and not only am I obviously doing something but the work I do is appreciated by others - and those others are nicer than some people with whom I've worked for pay. For example, I have a very high squeamy tolerance, so sorting broken eggs is not a big deal for me, but the VC doesn't like the slime. Smiling at the families and elderly couples that come to the food bank makes me happy. All that talk about how serving others increases self-esteem? I find it to be true.

If you want to volunteer, but don't know where, pick something you like to do or feel strongly about, and go here. If you're looking for a specific kind of place to serve, like a food bank or senior center, go to www.local.com.