I’ve been out of the loop for the past twelve hours, reading a book. Look what I missed by not turning on the radio, TV or Facebook! Breaking news!
The news of the day is that the LAUSD cop who got shot at last week faked it! He faked it! Turns out there isn’t a crazed, forty-something, white man with a pony tail and gun, hiding in somebody’s garage in the west valley after all!
Lots of people have rotten eggs on their faces this morning. This story has had a bad smell to it, ever since it broke. My first thoughts when I heard it were: Why all this media and police attention? It’s a horrible thing when a cop gets shot at, but it happens all the time in L.A., and the news doesn’t always cover it. Why now? Was it because it took place in an affluent area of the west San Fernando Valley? Why did they close streets and schools all day? Why so many cops (reports are 300-400) to search for a bad guy on foot? Why did the cops declare the senior citizen who called 911 a hero? A hero? For doing what every decent citizen is expected to do if they witness a crime? A HERO? Since there was no bad guy, why did this old man call 911? Or did he? And then there were the public speeches made by prominent elected officials and the newly appointed people of power. Lots of free TV ad time…… I’ll bet they wish that could give that TV time back now.
What happens to the faker now? I was really happy to hear Superintendent Cortines come out strong this morning, saying “You’re fired!” But will he fire him? Can he? Or will this be another disgusting defeat for human decency if his union steps in and rescues him?
If his union doesn’t end up fixing things for him, and I really hope it doesn’t, perhaps he’ll hire a lawyer to get him off. He could use the Twinkie combined with hot coffee and Prozac defense, where he ends up the victim of chemicals and heat. That might work, but only if he gets an attorney east of Reseda Blvd. The attorneys west of Reseda Blvd were pretty freaked out when their streets were closed, cop cars and news trucks were everywhere, and their kids had to pee in trash cans on that fateful day when the LAUSD cop faked it.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Every Good Mom Deserves Jail Time
So a mom in Ohio just got five days of jail time for doing the exact same thing a lot of good moms I know here in L.A. do all the time: lie about where their kids live so they can get them into a decent school. Why did she go to jail? Because she is black. No fast calls were made to her friend, the attorney, to get her out of trouble (unlike us white moms in the San Fernando Valley – our friend, the attorney, would be all over this, making all sorts of trouble for the school district and the state).
One disgusting reality of our public education system is that it forces good moms to lie. Since all good moms, no matter what color they are, or what their life situations are, will do anything for their children, they will lie about where they live to escape having to send them to their failing neighborhood school, if they have to. What’s more disgusting than having to lie, is that when white moms do it, they’re regarded as just being good moms. Ohio mother of two, Kelly Williams-Bolar, isn’t a good mom for lying, she’s a criminal.
Fifty seven years after the Supreme Court declared that the states could no longer segregate schools based on race (Brown v. Board of Education), things aren’t as equal for children of color as they should be. The evidence of this can be found in every failing school district across the nation, or in today’s news, with the Kelly Williams-Bolar story. She did the same thing many moms do, but she has to go to jail. I am outraged.
Why? Why should I care so much about this? My kids are fine. Why should I care about this mom and her family, or any other mothers’ kids for that matter? Why should I care about the many children of immigrants in my community? Plenty of people have turned a blind eye to them, or even blamed them for the deterioration of public education in our city……innocent kids - the scapegoats of a national epidemic. Why am I so worked up about this? Why do I feel guilty? Why can’t I just enjoy my good fortune, like so many others, and mind my own business?
Because I am acutely aware of the fact that my “good fortune” has nothing to do with anything that I have earned. My good fortune is that I happened to be born white.
Even though I live in Los Angeles, a large, international city rich in diversity and culture, racial and class inequities do exist. Just last week, 400 cops closed down a portion of the west end of the valley where I live to hunt down someone who had shot at a school police officer (off campus). Nine thousand kids in various schools were put on lock down all day. Every news station televised the hunt. Public speeches by city officials were made. Cops get shot at all the time in the poorer areas of the city. Sometimes the news doesn’t even cover those stories. The all day lock down and hunt in the valley was quite a spectacle, and they didn’t even catch the guy. Meanwhile, at the same time, a youth was shot a block away from another high school, but in a poor neighborhood. Only a few cops showed up (and it’s not because they were all busy in the west valley).
The only difference between Kelly and I is circumstance. Judging anybody on the color of their skin is absurd and ignorant, but to jail any mother of color for doing the exact same thing that lots of white moms all over the country do is criminal!
Have I ever lied about where my kids live so I could sneak them into a good school? No. But I would if I had to. I’d do anything to make sure my kids were safe, well fed, educated, and healthy, including sneaking them into another country to escape poverty, political or religious persecution, or sickness. Any good mother would. Inequities in public education are not as black and white as people would like to think (pun intended). There are many variables as to why our education system is such an abysmal failure. To understand how this all happened, we need to first educate ourselves, and stop blaming and scapegoating others. Today I say, “Give all the good moms of every color and creed, and their kids, a break!”
One disgusting reality of our public education system is that it forces good moms to lie. Since all good moms, no matter what color they are, or what their life situations are, will do anything for their children, they will lie about where they live to escape having to send them to their failing neighborhood school, if they have to. What’s more disgusting than having to lie, is that when white moms do it, they’re regarded as just being good moms. Ohio mother of two, Kelly Williams-Bolar, isn’t a good mom for lying, she’s a criminal.
Fifty seven years after the Supreme Court declared that the states could no longer segregate schools based on race (Brown v. Board of Education), things aren’t as equal for children of color as they should be. The evidence of this can be found in every failing school district across the nation, or in today’s news, with the Kelly Williams-Bolar story. She did the same thing many moms do, but she has to go to jail. I am outraged.
Why? Why should I care so much about this? My kids are fine. Why should I care about this mom and her family, or any other mothers’ kids for that matter? Why should I care about the many children of immigrants in my community? Plenty of people have turned a blind eye to them, or even blamed them for the deterioration of public education in our city……innocent kids - the scapegoats of a national epidemic. Why am I so worked up about this? Why do I feel guilty? Why can’t I just enjoy my good fortune, like so many others, and mind my own business?
Because I am acutely aware of the fact that my “good fortune” has nothing to do with anything that I have earned. My good fortune is that I happened to be born white.
Even though I live in Los Angeles, a large, international city rich in diversity and culture, racial and class inequities do exist. Just last week, 400 cops closed down a portion of the west end of the valley where I live to hunt down someone who had shot at a school police officer (off campus). Nine thousand kids in various schools were put on lock down all day. Every news station televised the hunt. Public speeches by city officials were made. Cops get shot at all the time in the poorer areas of the city. Sometimes the news doesn’t even cover those stories. The all day lock down and hunt in the valley was quite a spectacle, and they didn’t even catch the guy. Meanwhile, at the same time, a youth was shot a block away from another high school, but in a poor neighborhood. Only a few cops showed up (and it’s not because they were all busy in the west valley).
The only difference between Kelly and I is circumstance. Judging anybody on the color of their skin is absurd and ignorant, but to jail any mother of color for doing the exact same thing that lots of white moms all over the country do is criminal!
Have I ever lied about where my kids live so I could sneak them into a good school? No. But I would if I had to. I’d do anything to make sure my kids were safe, well fed, educated, and healthy, including sneaking them into another country to escape poverty, political or religious persecution, or sickness. Any good mother would. Inequities in public education are not as black and white as people would like to think (pun intended). There are many variables as to why our education system is such an abysmal failure. To understand how this all happened, we need to first educate ourselves, and stop blaming and scapegoating others. Today I say, “Give all the good moms of every color and creed, and their kids, a break!”
Monday, December 20, 2010
Turn To Your Art
When I was pregnant, I gave up my daily practice of formal meditation because I had morning sickness so bad and for so long, that I could barely make it off of the couch to use the bathroom, let alone sit before my altar. My husband reassured me that my spirituality would adapt and evolve along with me as I grew into my new role as a mother, and he suggested I try giving up my fantasy of flying off on the wings of a Goddess for a more Zen-like form of spirituality, finding moments of connection “on the fly” from then on. He was right. I haven’t managed to make it back to the meditation altar. My meditation at this point in my life is getting up at 5 a.m. to watch the news and drink two cups of coffee before everybody else wakes up and grabs on to me before I can.
My relationship to my art (which is also part of my spiritual practice, as it is with most artists), has had to adapt to my changing identity, too. I may not always paint, draw, or write on a daily basis, but I do create lots and lots of things (all the time), some of them obvious and tangible, some not. All mothers and teachers do this.
As a child, my art saved me. I escaped the pain and uncertainty of my home life by recreating my own happy world, one that I could escape to, to avoid the real life I had been born in to. When I drew, painted, crafted, or wrote, I was the master of my own universe, and I was in control. I credit my talent and the ways that I expressed myself for getting me through my very difficult childhood. I came out of it with only a few scars, not nearly as many, I believe, as I would have, had it not been for my art and a safe place to go. Creating a safe and healthy place to express one’s self is another important reason why I advocate for the arts in schools, but I don’t talk too much about that publicly because it isn’t appropriate. The adults in charge are preoccupied with money, time, and their own careers. To talk about a child’s soul is pointless because the Status Quo knows nothing about such things, for it has no soul. Even though I don’t talk about children’s souls when I argue for the arts publicly, they are in my heart and mind. Protecting them is what gives me the will to keep up the good fight, even now, in the face of soullessness in Los Angeles. I rely on my creativity to lead effectively, and I rely on my creativity to keep me happy and sane while leading, raising my kids, and trying to survive in L.A.
I have always made money on the side by doing all sorts of freelance work. When I was younger, I was a sign painter, illustrator, a draftsperson, a cartoonist, calligrapher, and painter. When desk top publishing came along, I created a small, monthly magazine which helped me develop new skills; publishing, marketing and selling advertising. At the age of 25, during a deep, meditative moment, I realized that it was time for me to leave my home in Colorado, to see if I could make it as an artist in Los Angeles. I knew that if I didn’t go then, I might never go, for the timing was right - I was young, single, and fearless. I packed my clothes, dog, and art supplies and headed off to California. I had about $400 in my pocket, and no job, but I didn’t care. I was determined to give it my best shot. If I failed, I could always go back to Colorado, satisfied in the knowing that I had tried, when some exceptionally talented, funny and smart people in my family never did. Close members in my family were just as talented as I was, but they withered up and collapsed in on themselves, which scared me to death. I didn’t want to end up like any of them.
Soon after I got to L.A., I got a job as marketing manager for Denecke, Inc. Mike Denecke, owner, had invented the TS-1 Time Code Slate (the electronic clapper board that is regularly used and shown in videos, commercials, etc.), amongst other post production products used in film, video and recording studios. I created a comic strip called, “Father Time” (a caricature of Mike and an entourage of behind-the-scene characters who don’t get enough credit for being part of the team that produces successful shows and helps make stars). The strip was used to market Denecke products. Mike had a huge impact on me. He was raised by professional, classical musicians (his mother was a flautist in a symphony in Minnesota, and his father, the conductor). He would speak highly of his parents, especially his mom, who encouraged him as a child to go for his dreams, and reminded him that everybody is born with a gift, he just needed to find out what that was. He did. He became a classically trained guitarist (having studied with Andres Segovia), a sound engineer and an inventor. Mike believed in me and encouraged my talent. As an artist himself, he knew how important it was to give me, and his other employees, space. He trusted us. He was a great “boss”. I strive to show the same sort of confidence and appreciation for the talented people I have chosen to hire over the years. I worked for Mike for seven years, developing a line of comic books, calendars, ads, t-shirts, mugs, etc. I only left so I could care for my newborn son. A few years later, Mike died of a heart attack. I like to think I’m having one of those Zen-like, “fly by” moments whenever “Dancing in the Moonlight” by King Harvest comes on the radio. Mike recorded that song in a hotel room in Paris in the early seventies. I get to say “Hi Mike!” whenever I hear that song.
As I look back at my creative career over the past 30 years, I see that the most prolific times in my life have always been when I was the most stressed, or was at some sort of impasse. Becoming a mother was a life changing experience for me, as it is for all women, and I was fearful that I would abandon my own dreams and goals for a life lived in service to others. I chose to be a wife and mother, and I wanted to stay home with my son, but I didn’t want to lose myself in that. So I threw myself into my cartooning. Painting would have to wait because having toxic, messy, permanent paints around with a baby in the house was not something I wanted to deal with. So I chose to put all of my energy into my cartooning because it was clean, easy, and I could be interrupted, a lot. Anyone who has stayed home with babies and toddlers knows what that means. You can’t complete a thought, let alone finish an involved creative project. While my baby slept, I cranked out a couple of new strips and went about the business of self syndication. I created a line of greeting cards and calendars. I was determined to keep my own art alive, and thus keep my own self alive, in my new role as wife and mother. As my son grew, I became more and more interested in teaching art to young children, so I started doing that. I really, really loved it, because I love preschool aged children. They’re a kick and I get to be a big goof when I’m with them. At the same time, my father in law had come to live with us because his health was failing. The added stress of caring for an aging, depressed family member put a lot of extra pressure on me. To get through it, and to mitigate the guilt I suffered due to the resentment I had towards an innocent loved one who needed my help, I turned to my art. I had the old shed in our backyard converted into a studio for myself and proceeded to throw myself into painting landscapes of the San Fernando Valley. By this time, my son didn’t need my constant supervision, which meant I could break out those messy, toxic paints. My studio, and my art, gave me a place of my own. I painted over 40 canvases. It made me feel better. I also opened my studio up to teach more art classes. Teaching art turned into full blown activism after my son entered public school at the age of five. I was outraged by the lack of arts education in schools, so I channeled all of my creative energies into starting and running a nonprofit organization that gets the arts back into schools. Another crisis! I took it on, head on, and have managed to lead it over the past eleven years in the most creative fashion I know how, even now, during one of the most devastating financial periods in our nation’s history.
The economic crisis has put us all into crisis, and I have once again turned to my art. I have had my heart broken by what has happened to my country, my state, my city, and the school system that I have worked so hard to improve. The greed, lack of heart and conscience, and hypocrisy that surrounds me just seems to be getting worse. The wide spread anger, disgust, and apathy is really getting to me. I am pissed. I feel so defeated by forces outside of my control.
So, just like when I was a kid, I am once again an innocent victim of circumstance, and have turned to my art to get through it. I distract myself by being constructive. I have thrown myself into my own work, painting, cartooning, and writing like never before. Through painting, I can really be alone with myself – getting away from “them”, so I can release my anger, frustration, and fear through the process of creating. Through my cartooning and writing, I can say things that I haven’t been able to say as a nonprofit leader, PTA president, or woman with kids in tow. My art is freeing me. I love it. I’m excited. I’m as happy as I would ever hope to be, all things considered, and I have a lot to show for myself.
Trying to save the arts for others has turned me to my own art, so I can save myself. Fellow artists: Turn to your art.
My relationship to my art (which is also part of my spiritual practice, as it is with most artists), has had to adapt to my changing identity, too. I may not always paint, draw, or write on a daily basis, but I do create lots and lots of things (all the time), some of them obvious and tangible, some not. All mothers and teachers do this.
As a child, my art saved me. I escaped the pain and uncertainty of my home life by recreating my own happy world, one that I could escape to, to avoid the real life I had been born in to. When I drew, painted, crafted, or wrote, I was the master of my own universe, and I was in control. I credit my talent and the ways that I expressed myself for getting me through my very difficult childhood. I came out of it with only a few scars, not nearly as many, I believe, as I would have, had it not been for my art and a safe place to go. Creating a safe and healthy place to express one’s self is another important reason why I advocate for the arts in schools, but I don’t talk too much about that publicly because it isn’t appropriate. The adults in charge are preoccupied with money, time, and their own careers. To talk about a child’s soul is pointless because the Status Quo knows nothing about such things, for it has no soul. Even though I don’t talk about children’s souls when I argue for the arts publicly, they are in my heart and mind. Protecting them is what gives me the will to keep up the good fight, even now, in the face of soullessness in Los Angeles. I rely on my creativity to lead effectively, and I rely on my creativity to keep me happy and sane while leading, raising my kids, and trying to survive in L.A.
I have always made money on the side by doing all sorts of freelance work. When I was younger, I was a sign painter, illustrator, a draftsperson, a cartoonist, calligrapher, and painter. When desk top publishing came along, I created a small, monthly magazine which helped me develop new skills; publishing, marketing and selling advertising. At the age of 25, during a deep, meditative moment, I realized that it was time for me to leave my home in Colorado, to see if I could make it as an artist in Los Angeles. I knew that if I didn’t go then, I might never go, for the timing was right - I was young, single, and fearless. I packed my clothes, dog, and art supplies and headed off to California. I had about $400 in my pocket, and no job, but I didn’t care. I was determined to give it my best shot. If I failed, I could always go back to Colorado, satisfied in the knowing that I had tried, when some exceptionally talented, funny and smart people in my family never did. Close members in my family were just as talented as I was, but they withered up and collapsed in on themselves, which scared me to death. I didn’t want to end up like any of them.
Soon after I got to L.A., I got a job as marketing manager for Denecke, Inc. Mike Denecke, owner, had invented the TS-1 Time Code Slate (the electronic clapper board that is regularly used and shown in videos, commercials, etc.), amongst other post production products used in film, video and recording studios. I created a comic strip called, “Father Time” (a caricature of Mike and an entourage of behind-the-scene characters who don’t get enough credit for being part of the team that produces successful shows and helps make stars). The strip was used to market Denecke products. Mike had a huge impact on me. He was raised by professional, classical musicians (his mother was a flautist in a symphony in Minnesota, and his father, the conductor). He would speak highly of his parents, especially his mom, who encouraged him as a child to go for his dreams, and reminded him that everybody is born with a gift, he just needed to find out what that was. He did. He became a classically trained guitarist (having studied with Andres Segovia), a sound engineer and an inventor. Mike believed in me and encouraged my talent. As an artist himself, he knew how important it was to give me, and his other employees, space. He trusted us. He was a great “boss”. I strive to show the same sort of confidence and appreciation for the talented people I have chosen to hire over the years. I worked for Mike for seven years, developing a line of comic books, calendars, ads, t-shirts, mugs, etc. I only left so I could care for my newborn son. A few years later, Mike died of a heart attack. I like to think I’m having one of those Zen-like, “fly by” moments whenever “Dancing in the Moonlight” by King Harvest comes on the radio. Mike recorded that song in a hotel room in Paris in the early seventies. I get to say “Hi Mike!” whenever I hear that song.
As I look back at my creative career over the past 30 years, I see that the most prolific times in my life have always been when I was the most stressed, or was at some sort of impasse. Becoming a mother was a life changing experience for me, as it is for all women, and I was fearful that I would abandon my own dreams and goals for a life lived in service to others. I chose to be a wife and mother, and I wanted to stay home with my son, but I didn’t want to lose myself in that. So I threw myself into my cartooning. Painting would have to wait because having toxic, messy, permanent paints around with a baby in the house was not something I wanted to deal with. So I chose to put all of my energy into my cartooning because it was clean, easy, and I could be interrupted, a lot. Anyone who has stayed home with babies and toddlers knows what that means. You can’t complete a thought, let alone finish an involved creative project. While my baby slept, I cranked out a couple of new strips and went about the business of self syndication. I created a line of greeting cards and calendars. I was determined to keep my own art alive, and thus keep my own self alive, in my new role as wife and mother. As my son grew, I became more and more interested in teaching art to young children, so I started doing that. I really, really loved it, because I love preschool aged children. They’re a kick and I get to be a big goof when I’m with them. At the same time, my father in law had come to live with us because his health was failing. The added stress of caring for an aging, depressed family member put a lot of extra pressure on me. To get through it, and to mitigate the guilt I suffered due to the resentment I had towards an innocent loved one who needed my help, I turned to my art. I had the old shed in our backyard converted into a studio for myself and proceeded to throw myself into painting landscapes of the San Fernando Valley. By this time, my son didn’t need my constant supervision, which meant I could break out those messy, toxic paints. My studio, and my art, gave me a place of my own. I painted over 40 canvases. It made me feel better. I also opened my studio up to teach more art classes. Teaching art turned into full blown activism after my son entered public school at the age of five. I was outraged by the lack of arts education in schools, so I channeled all of my creative energies into starting and running a nonprofit organization that gets the arts back into schools. Another crisis! I took it on, head on, and have managed to lead it over the past eleven years in the most creative fashion I know how, even now, during one of the most devastating financial periods in our nation’s history.
The economic crisis has put us all into crisis, and I have once again turned to my art. I have had my heart broken by what has happened to my country, my state, my city, and the school system that I have worked so hard to improve. The greed, lack of heart and conscience, and hypocrisy that surrounds me just seems to be getting worse. The wide spread anger, disgust, and apathy is really getting to me. I am pissed. I feel so defeated by forces outside of my control.
So, just like when I was a kid, I am once again an innocent victim of circumstance, and have turned to my art to get through it. I distract myself by being constructive. I have thrown myself into my own work, painting, cartooning, and writing like never before. Through painting, I can really be alone with myself – getting away from “them”, so I can release my anger, frustration, and fear through the process of creating. Through my cartooning and writing, I can say things that I haven’t been able to say as a nonprofit leader, PTA president, or woman with kids in tow. My art is freeing me. I love it. I’m excited. I’m as happy as I would ever hope to be, all things considered, and I have a lot to show for myself.
Trying to save the arts for others has turned me to my own art, so I can save myself. Fellow artists: Turn to your art.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
To Sirs, With Love
It’s been over thirty years since I last played my alto saxophone. That was when I was a teenager, playing in the school band. I had played consistently for eight years throughout my public schooling in Colorado. I was pretty good, and I will always be grateful for the many opportunities that playing music afforded me, even though I didn’t pursue a career in music. I grew up to be a visual artist and an arts education activist. I started a nonprofit organization in southern California to give kids the same arts education experiences that I had growing up.
We raise money and donate music programs to low income elementary schools. We buy the instruments and pay for the weekly instruction during the school day. Our graduating fifth graders move on to middle school with the ability to read and play music (unheard of in the Los Angeles Unified School District today). For existing middle and high school music departments, we raise the funds necessary to purchase much needed materials as well as offer assistance towards the costs of competitions and other expenses. We also produce a number of different arts festivals.
A couple of years ago we created a Battle of the Bands for middle schools as a fun competition to win cash prizes. It also gave teen rock bands the opportunity to get more public exposure, as well as give parents a chance to meet different music suppliers and program providers in an exhibition area. As the RSVPs started to come in from different band directors, and as we got to know more and more teachers through the production process, my own memories of playing in such festivals and competitions started to come back to me. I realized, on a much deeper level, just how lucky I was to not only have had such music programs offered to me in the schools I attended, but that I had the best music teachers around. I appreciated them as much as any kid could at the time, but now, as an adult with over eleven years experience of running an arts education nonprofit against all odds (dealing with the bureaucracy of the LAUSD and steering a public charity through the high seas of the recession), and getting to know more art and music teachers who are dealing with the same challenges, I have grown to appreciate my former band teachers all the more.
We invited every single public middle school teacher to participate in our Battle of the Bands. About half of them declined, not wanting to give up a day on a weekend to do it. The rest of the teachers accepted our offer happily, which insured that our festival would be a rewarding and successful event. The school bands that won reminded me of my former school bands. We seemed to win everything. We won because we were good, but how good could we have been were it not for great teachers?. After the festival, I reflected more on how fortunate I was to have had such incredible support and guidance. I wanted to find my old band teachers and thank them.
I will never forget C.J. Shibly from Isaac Newton Junior High School, or Ross McClure from Evergreen Junior High School. Because of them, I got to be in a marching band, a concert band, and a jazz band in junior high school. We played in parades and performed at school sporting events. For three years at Evergreen High School, I had the good fortune of having Jim Stranahan as my teacher. He was straight out of college - young, energetic, and very, very optimistic. He was cool. He was also an incredibly talented musician in his own right. In the three years that I played in his bands, we cut two albums (one in a studio and the other live at a national competition in Miami, Florida). We played every competition he could get us in to. He even got us gigs playing private parties (one was a gig at McNichols Sports arena for a pro basketball game). All of those weekends and evenings…..he gave up a lot of his own time (and money, I’m sure) for us.
I started searching for my old band teachers so I could let them know how much I appreciated what they had done for me as a teen. I decided to look my former band mates up, too, to see if any of them had pursued careers in music. I found some: Doug Jackson went on to play guitar for well known rock bands like Iron Butterfly, Kenny Loggins, and Ambrosia. Our pianist, Willie Hammond, is a working musician in Boulder, Colorado, and Nate Birkey is a successful trumpet player with his own jazz quartet in New York City. We were just ordinary kids, going to public school. We took the music classes that were offered to us. What would have become of Doug, Willie, Nate and me if we hadn’t had those music classes and those incredible music teachers?
As a parent myself, I argue that music education is vital and necessary, not just because it improves academic scores and keeps kids in school, but because no education is complete without it. Every kid should know how to read and play music, whether they grow up to be musicians or not. The experiences and rewards derived from playing in school orchestras and bands last a lifetime. If I hadn’t taken band for eight years, I may never have met my best friend, Greg Ruland, or traveled to Florida, or set foot in a recording studio, or had a chance to really listen to others, or take so many risks by working through stage fright, putting myself out there so I could bust through my own teen fears when it was my turn to play a solo. I would have been denied the opportunity to honor my deceased father by playing on his silver plated sax, or to give my grandfather (a retired jazz musician) a reason to be proud of me. On top of all that, I would have missed out on the rare opportunity of having an adult outsider validate and show concern for the problems I was having at home. My family had been torn apart by divorce, death and alcoholism. Very few adults dared get involved, even my own family members. Most of them looked the other way. Jim Stranahan did not. He couldn’t fix anything for me, but he could let me know that he could see me, and that he cared. I’ll never forget the day he took me aside to ask me if anything was wrong. I told him. My secret was out. Nobody else had ever done that for me before. He was a true artist, connecting to me and all of his students, not just through music and his training as a teacher, but through his own heart.
I never did find C.J., Ross or Jim. I presume they are all retired from teaching now. I hope they’re all happy, healthy, and playing music. Wherever you are: Thank You.
We raise money and donate music programs to low income elementary schools. We buy the instruments and pay for the weekly instruction during the school day. Our graduating fifth graders move on to middle school with the ability to read and play music (unheard of in the Los Angeles Unified School District today). For existing middle and high school music departments, we raise the funds necessary to purchase much needed materials as well as offer assistance towards the costs of competitions and other expenses. We also produce a number of different arts festivals.
A couple of years ago we created a Battle of the Bands for middle schools as a fun competition to win cash prizes. It also gave teen rock bands the opportunity to get more public exposure, as well as give parents a chance to meet different music suppliers and program providers in an exhibition area. As the RSVPs started to come in from different band directors, and as we got to know more and more teachers through the production process, my own memories of playing in such festivals and competitions started to come back to me. I realized, on a much deeper level, just how lucky I was to not only have had such music programs offered to me in the schools I attended, but that I had the best music teachers around. I appreciated them as much as any kid could at the time, but now, as an adult with over eleven years experience of running an arts education nonprofit against all odds (dealing with the bureaucracy of the LAUSD and steering a public charity through the high seas of the recession), and getting to know more art and music teachers who are dealing with the same challenges, I have grown to appreciate my former band teachers all the more.
We invited every single public middle school teacher to participate in our Battle of the Bands. About half of them declined, not wanting to give up a day on a weekend to do it. The rest of the teachers accepted our offer happily, which insured that our festival would be a rewarding and successful event. The school bands that won reminded me of my former school bands. We seemed to win everything. We won because we were good, but how good could we have been were it not for great teachers?. After the festival, I reflected more on how fortunate I was to have had such incredible support and guidance. I wanted to find my old band teachers and thank them.
I will never forget C.J. Shibly from Isaac Newton Junior High School, or Ross McClure from Evergreen Junior High School. Because of them, I got to be in a marching band, a concert band, and a jazz band in junior high school. We played in parades and performed at school sporting events. For three years at Evergreen High School, I had the good fortune of having Jim Stranahan as my teacher. He was straight out of college - young, energetic, and very, very optimistic. He was cool. He was also an incredibly talented musician in his own right. In the three years that I played in his bands, we cut two albums (one in a studio and the other live at a national competition in Miami, Florida). We played every competition he could get us in to. He even got us gigs playing private parties (one was a gig at McNichols Sports arena for a pro basketball game). All of those weekends and evenings…..he gave up a lot of his own time (and money, I’m sure) for us.
I started searching for my old band teachers so I could let them know how much I appreciated what they had done for me as a teen. I decided to look my former band mates up, too, to see if any of them had pursued careers in music. I found some: Doug Jackson went on to play guitar for well known rock bands like Iron Butterfly, Kenny Loggins, and Ambrosia. Our pianist, Willie Hammond, is a working musician in Boulder, Colorado, and Nate Birkey is a successful trumpet player with his own jazz quartet in New York City. We were just ordinary kids, going to public school. We took the music classes that were offered to us. What would have become of Doug, Willie, Nate and me if we hadn’t had those music classes and those incredible music teachers?
As a parent myself, I argue that music education is vital and necessary, not just because it improves academic scores and keeps kids in school, but because no education is complete without it. Every kid should know how to read and play music, whether they grow up to be musicians or not. The experiences and rewards derived from playing in school orchestras and bands last a lifetime. If I hadn’t taken band for eight years, I may never have met my best friend, Greg Ruland, or traveled to Florida, or set foot in a recording studio, or had a chance to really listen to others, or take so many risks by working through stage fright, putting myself out there so I could bust through my own teen fears when it was my turn to play a solo. I would have been denied the opportunity to honor my deceased father by playing on his silver plated sax, or to give my grandfather (a retired jazz musician) a reason to be proud of me. On top of all that, I would have missed out on the rare opportunity of having an adult outsider validate and show concern for the problems I was having at home. My family had been torn apart by divorce, death and alcoholism. Very few adults dared get involved, even my own family members. Most of them looked the other way. Jim Stranahan did not. He couldn’t fix anything for me, but he could let me know that he could see me, and that he cared. I’ll never forget the day he took me aside to ask me if anything was wrong. I told him. My secret was out. Nobody else had ever done that for me before. He was a true artist, connecting to me and all of his students, not just through music and his training as a teacher, but through his own heart.
I never did find C.J., Ross or Jim. I presume they are all retired from teaching now. I hope they’re all happy, healthy, and playing music. Wherever you are: Thank You.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
In Honor of Pay it Forward Day, I took a new mom out for coffee and filled her in on how to play the Magnet Game
As is the tradition with all reluctant public school moms in Los Angeles, we share information with each other about schools – turning each other on to great schools with open enrollment, charter schools, private schools, home school programs, work permits, how to sneak in to public schools in the better zip codes of the San Fernando Valley, and how to navigate the magnet school point system.
Magnet schools started over 30 years ago in response to the mandatory busing that was imposed on students to integrate racial populations and give kids from lower performing public schools a chance to get a better education by busing them to better schools. The magnets were created as an alternative to mandatory busing, as a voluntary integration program to promote desegregation.
The magnet school student bodies are based on racial quotas. The schools have to maintain a certain ratio of all races. The students are selected through a lottery system. Some magnets specialize in a specific academic area or are arts based. They tend to attract students who perform well in school (scoring better in English and Math), and have higher attendance and graduation rates, with very low drop out rates. This is due, in great part, to their parents placing a high value on education and seeking out these magnet schools. They are persistent and savvy enough to work through the complicated system. Generally, magnet schools have a great deal of parental support. They also attract new teaching methods, exceptional teachers (gifted schools offer extra training for their teachers), and special curriculums. They have safer campuses and are more racially diverse. There are 169 magnet schools and centers in Los Angeles. If you live outside of a two mile radius of a magnet elementary school, the school district will provide free transportation (three miles for middle and high schools).
The LAUSD established magnet schools in 1976 to help prevent racial isolation in the school system in order to comply with the California Supreme Court's order to voluntarily integrate. Some magnets are school wide, and some are a schools within existing schools, led by a magnet coordinator. Originally, magnets were designed to combat low academic achievement, low self-esteem, lack of access to college opportunities, interracial hostility and intolerance, and overcrowded schools.
Thirty years ago, the racial demographics of LAUSD were quite different, and the courts intervened to make education fairer for minority groups. Today, the demographics have changed dramatically. Only 9% of the student population in LAUSD is white. The demographics have changed, but the model has not. Names are still drawn in a lottery based on race. Parents still seek this alternative out, but not because they want to avoid forced busing, but because they want to escape their low performing neighborhood schools. Magnets have been the most attractive alternative to the average LAUSD school (charter schools are gaining in popularity now, too). The magnet system has gone from being a system that once promoted fairness amongst the races, to being an unfair public school alternative, privy to the savviest of parents. The racial demographics may be even and balanced, but the system is anything but fair. The only kids who attend magnet schools are kids who come from households that place a very high value on education. Parents who are unaware or uninvolved prevent hundreds of thousands of children from being able to take advantage of the magnet system.
Now, thirty years later, the United States Supreme Court has pondered whether magnets in other states are violating the Constitution by making enrollment decisions based on skin color. This could mean that LAUSD’s magnet program could be at risk. Those who don’t get in may one day fight the system as not being constitutional. Until then, it’s every Angeleno for himself. After spending two hours with my new mom friend, going over the Magnet Game, I set her loose with a checklist for the day (she took the day off from work to deal with this BS): first she was go to the highly gifted magnet middle school to inquire on their admission policies, then she was to walk in to a certain, really great elementary school in a very desirable part of the Valley to find out if she can enroll her two children on a work permit (she works two blocks from the school). After that, she walked in to another school near her work, just to make sure she covered all her bases, and then, based upon the plan that emerged from talking to these three schools directly, she bubbled in the proper magnet selections in her Choices brochure, slipped them in the mailbox, crossed her fingers, and said a prayer.
Magnet schools started over 30 years ago in response to the mandatory busing that was imposed on students to integrate racial populations and give kids from lower performing public schools a chance to get a better education by busing them to better schools. The magnets were created as an alternative to mandatory busing, as a voluntary integration program to promote desegregation.
The magnet school student bodies are based on racial quotas. The schools have to maintain a certain ratio of all races. The students are selected through a lottery system. Some magnets specialize in a specific academic area or are arts based. They tend to attract students who perform well in school (scoring better in English and Math), and have higher attendance and graduation rates, with very low drop out rates. This is due, in great part, to their parents placing a high value on education and seeking out these magnet schools. They are persistent and savvy enough to work through the complicated system. Generally, magnet schools have a great deal of parental support. They also attract new teaching methods, exceptional teachers (gifted schools offer extra training for their teachers), and special curriculums. They have safer campuses and are more racially diverse. There are 169 magnet schools and centers in Los Angeles. If you live outside of a two mile radius of a magnet elementary school, the school district will provide free transportation (three miles for middle and high schools).
The LAUSD established magnet schools in 1976 to help prevent racial isolation in the school system in order to comply with the California Supreme Court's order to voluntarily integrate. Some magnets are school wide, and some are a schools within existing schools, led by a magnet coordinator. Originally, magnets were designed to combat low academic achievement, low self-esteem, lack of access to college opportunities, interracial hostility and intolerance, and overcrowded schools.
Thirty years ago, the racial demographics of LAUSD were quite different, and the courts intervened to make education fairer for minority groups. Today, the demographics have changed dramatically. Only 9% of the student population in LAUSD is white. The demographics have changed, but the model has not. Names are still drawn in a lottery based on race. Parents still seek this alternative out, but not because they want to avoid forced busing, but because they want to escape their low performing neighborhood schools. Magnets have been the most attractive alternative to the average LAUSD school (charter schools are gaining in popularity now, too). The magnet system has gone from being a system that once promoted fairness amongst the races, to being an unfair public school alternative, privy to the savviest of parents. The racial demographics may be even and balanced, but the system is anything but fair. The only kids who attend magnet schools are kids who come from households that place a very high value on education. Parents who are unaware or uninvolved prevent hundreds of thousands of children from being able to take advantage of the magnet system.
Now, thirty years later, the United States Supreme Court has pondered whether magnets in other states are violating the Constitution by making enrollment decisions based on skin color. This could mean that LAUSD’s magnet program could be at risk. Those who don’t get in may one day fight the system as not being constitutional. Until then, it’s every Angeleno for himself. After spending two hours with my new mom friend, going over the Magnet Game, I set her loose with a checklist for the day (she took the day off from work to deal with this BS): first she was go to the highly gifted magnet middle school to inquire on their admission policies, then she was to walk in to a certain, really great elementary school in a very desirable part of the Valley to find out if she can enroll her two children on a work permit (she works two blocks from the school). After that, she walked in to another school near her work, just to make sure she covered all her bases, and then, based upon the plan that emerged from talking to these three schools directly, she bubbled in the proper magnet selections in her Choices brochure, slipped them in the mailbox, crossed her fingers, and said a prayer.
Monday, November 22, 2010
It’s That Time of Year Again: Magnet Mania for L.A. Moms (Better Known as “What the Hell Are We Going To Do For Middle School?”)
Tis the season: the Choices brochures have gone out and Los Angeles moms are confronted, as they are every year at this time, with whether or not they want to try and get their kids into a magnet school via the annual lottery system known as “Choices”.
My own experience with Magnet Mania started before my first child entered kindergarten thirteen years ago. On the advice of several of my mom friends with older kids, I was encouraged to apply to the only magnet school in the Valley that had a kindergarten, not because it’s a great school and I would want my son to go there, but because I would hope that he WOULDN’T get in. The neurotic strategy? The more parents who do it, the more we all increase our chances of our kids not getting in, giving them extra points each year that their names don’t get drawn. The points pile up over the years, giving your child an advantage when you want them to get into the magnet middle school you want, many years in the future. Every time you apply and don’t get in, you are awarded four more magnet points. The object of the game is to have as many points as possible when you go ahead and apply for middle school. Since our neighborhood school is a PHBAO (Predominantly Hispanic, Black, Asian, and Other Non-Anglo) school, that gives my kids an automatic four extra points, which means, if they don’t get their name drawn before I want them to, then they’ll be WAY AHEAD of the other kids when it comes time to try and get them into the school we really want. Confused? You should be. It is CONFUSING!
All of us savvy moms are hip to how all of this works, giving each other pointers on points, so we can keep playing this confusing game, most of us reluctantly, because it’s our only hope for escape – escape from the dreaded Los Angeles neighborhood middle school.
I was playing the magnet game, like I was instructed to, for four years, with my eye on the one school most of us savvy moms want our kids to go to – the one where your kid can attend school with the same kids from fourth to twelfth grade (which, by the way, is four blocks away from our house, but it is not open to any neighborhood kids, because it is an exclusive magnet school attracting kids from all over the Los Angeles area, many of whom get up at 4 a.m. to ride the bus for a couple of hours to get to that school.) I have talked about this insane system from time to time to my husband over the years, and he does what most men who have been married a long time do: fake interest and pretend to listen. So when the magnet school I hoped my son WOULD NOT get in to called a few days before the first day of third grade to say that a spot had opened up for him, my husband, who was the only one home at the time, exclaimed, “Great! My wife will be so happy!”, not knowing which magnet was which, accepting the spot. When I got home, he shared the good news. I was anything but happy. All of those years of playing the Magnet Mania Game. All of those accumulated points……wasted! If you don’t accept the open spot, you lose ALL of your points. And if you do accept the spot, but don't enroll, you still lose all of your points.
So when it came time for my second child to play the magnet game, I had two extra advantages: my own past experience, and my daughter's stellar test scores. That means she has a special folder with a prestigious label, with a guaranteed spot on the fast track, if we choose to put her on it. After two years of applying to the number one elementary magnet school in LAUSD, my daughter got in. Phew.
But she, and all of the other kids attending this outstanding school, would not have gotten in, were it not for the anxious efforts of their savvy moms. If your mom doesn’t play the game, you can’t get in. The first year I applied to this school, I had to drive all over the Valley to various public libraries during the winter break, to find a Choices brochure, because I never got one in the mail. I finally found one, but it was the Spanish version. That was a problem because I don’t speak Spanish. So I had to go figure out what it said so I could fill it out properly. What ethnicity should I check? She’s Chinese but my husband and I are Caucasian. Magnet Maniacs recommended “Caucasian” because fewer Caucasians are applying, and we could justify it because we’re Caucasian. Magnets need more white kids for their “Caucasian quotas.” Better not take any chances, I thought, so I checked Asian. I got it filled out and out into the mail by the deadline, without knowing Spanish. Pretty savvy of me.
The rejection letter came a couple of months later, in Spanish. I had it translated, to make sure it was a rejection letter, not an acceptance letter. I double checked the translation by calling downtown to talk to a live person at the Student Integration Services. I didn't want to take a chance on blowing it and losing any points, because of the language barrier. I also wanted to request that my daughter’s language status be changed to “English” so she would be in the correct data base. After dealing with the school district for 13 years, I have grown to expect a 50/50 success ratio when dealing with district employees, since accuracy, consistency and professionalism in LAUSD is anything but the norm. If you call downtown and ask three different people the same question, you’ll usually get three different answers. So I had to be ready. I even prepared myself for my daughter being known from now on as a Spanish speaking Caucasian from Cambodia. I’d have to wait a year to find out if they got it right, when the Choices brochure arrived in English (if ever.) It did. Another phew.
Miracle of miracles: my daughter ended up getting into the top elementary magnet school in LAUSD. There were 24 open spots and she got one of them. Phew again! It really is a great school. She’s a very, very lucky girl. I can relax about middle school! PHEW!!!!!
You see, many of us savvy LAUSD moms opt for magnets for elementary school because we’re really worried about middle school. That’s right - middle school. If you can get your kid into a magnet, any magnet, in elementary school, then chances are very, very good that she will get into a middle school magnet as well. Middle school is the scariest time for us L.A. moms. Savvy moms do not wait until fifth grade to decide what to do about sixth grade. They start freaking out before kindergarten.
Does all of this sound ridiculous, absurd and confusing? It is. But that’s LAUSD: ridiculous, absurd, and confusing. And unfair. May the best savvy mom win.
My own experience with Magnet Mania started before my first child entered kindergarten thirteen years ago. On the advice of several of my mom friends with older kids, I was encouraged to apply to the only magnet school in the Valley that had a kindergarten, not because it’s a great school and I would want my son to go there, but because I would hope that he WOULDN’T get in. The neurotic strategy? The more parents who do it, the more we all increase our chances of our kids not getting in, giving them extra points each year that their names don’t get drawn. The points pile up over the years, giving your child an advantage when you want them to get into the magnet middle school you want, many years in the future. Every time you apply and don’t get in, you are awarded four more magnet points. The object of the game is to have as many points as possible when you go ahead and apply for middle school. Since our neighborhood school is a PHBAO (Predominantly Hispanic, Black, Asian, and Other Non-Anglo) school, that gives my kids an automatic four extra points, which means, if they don’t get their name drawn before I want them to, then they’ll be WAY AHEAD of the other kids when it comes time to try and get them into the school we really want. Confused? You should be. It is CONFUSING!
All of us savvy moms are hip to how all of this works, giving each other pointers on points, so we can keep playing this confusing game, most of us reluctantly, because it’s our only hope for escape – escape from the dreaded Los Angeles neighborhood middle school.
I was playing the magnet game, like I was instructed to, for four years, with my eye on the one school most of us savvy moms want our kids to go to – the one where your kid can attend school with the same kids from fourth to twelfth grade (which, by the way, is four blocks away from our house, but it is not open to any neighborhood kids, because it is an exclusive magnet school attracting kids from all over the Los Angeles area, many of whom get up at 4 a.m. to ride the bus for a couple of hours to get to that school.) I have talked about this insane system from time to time to my husband over the years, and he does what most men who have been married a long time do: fake interest and pretend to listen. So when the magnet school I hoped my son WOULD NOT get in to called a few days before the first day of third grade to say that a spot had opened up for him, my husband, who was the only one home at the time, exclaimed, “Great! My wife will be so happy!”, not knowing which magnet was which, accepting the spot. When I got home, he shared the good news. I was anything but happy. All of those years of playing the Magnet Mania Game. All of those accumulated points……wasted! If you don’t accept the open spot, you lose ALL of your points. And if you do accept the spot, but don't enroll, you still lose all of your points.
So when it came time for my second child to play the magnet game, I had two extra advantages: my own past experience, and my daughter's stellar test scores. That means she has a special folder with a prestigious label, with a guaranteed spot on the fast track, if we choose to put her on it. After two years of applying to the number one elementary magnet school in LAUSD, my daughter got in. Phew.
But she, and all of the other kids attending this outstanding school, would not have gotten in, were it not for the anxious efforts of their savvy moms. If your mom doesn’t play the game, you can’t get in. The first year I applied to this school, I had to drive all over the Valley to various public libraries during the winter break, to find a Choices brochure, because I never got one in the mail. I finally found one, but it was the Spanish version. That was a problem because I don’t speak Spanish. So I had to go figure out what it said so I could fill it out properly. What ethnicity should I check? She’s Chinese but my husband and I are Caucasian. Magnet Maniacs recommended “Caucasian” because fewer Caucasians are applying, and we could justify it because we’re Caucasian. Magnets need more white kids for their “Caucasian quotas.” Better not take any chances, I thought, so I checked Asian. I got it filled out and out into the mail by the deadline, without knowing Spanish. Pretty savvy of me.
The rejection letter came a couple of months later, in Spanish. I had it translated, to make sure it was a rejection letter, not an acceptance letter. I double checked the translation by calling downtown to talk to a live person at the Student Integration Services. I didn't want to take a chance on blowing it and losing any points, because of the language barrier. I also wanted to request that my daughter’s language status be changed to “English” so she would be in the correct data base. After dealing with the school district for 13 years, I have grown to expect a 50/50 success ratio when dealing with district employees, since accuracy, consistency and professionalism in LAUSD is anything but the norm. If you call downtown and ask three different people the same question, you’ll usually get three different answers. So I had to be ready. I even prepared myself for my daughter being known from now on as a Spanish speaking Caucasian from Cambodia. I’d have to wait a year to find out if they got it right, when the Choices brochure arrived in English (if ever.) It did. Another phew.
Miracle of miracles: my daughter ended up getting into the top elementary magnet school in LAUSD. There were 24 open spots and she got one of them. Phew again! It really is a great school. She’s a very, very lucky girl. I can relax about middle school! PHEW!!!!!
You see, many of us savvy LAUSD moms opt for magnets for elementary school because we’re really worried about middle school. That’s right - middle school. If you can get your kid into a magnet, any magnet, in elementary school, then chances are very, very good that she will get into a middle school magnet as well. Middle school is the scariest time for us L.A. moms. Savvy moms do not wait until fifth grade to decide what to do about sixth grade. They start freaking out before kindergarten.
Does all of this sound ridiculous, absurd and confusing? It is. But that’s LAUSD: ridiculous, absurd, and confusing. And unfair. May the best savvy mom win.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Jealous at Thanksgiving
My husband, David, is the patriarch of the family. Ready for it or not, he inherited the position several years ago when the last of the elders passed away. So now he is an Elder. My husband – the old hippy, who came of age in L.A. in the sixties, who took EST training back in the day, who saw Cream, Jimi Hendrix and Jefferson Airplane, over and over again, in an altered state… is the new Patriarch, along with his sisters and cousins, who also came of age in L.A. around the same time. They are the new Elders? How weird is that? The children of the sixties are in their sixties now, man.
So now, at our family get togethers, instead of hearing old stories from the former Elders of characters who lived in a time, and in a land that few at the table had any recollection of, the conversation has turned to another time…….and a very different past. And, they’re talking about a new present – the New Elders are all sharing about the latest concerts they have gone to. They’re back in the saddle again! Why? Because they now have expendable income, time, and more importantly, energy. Their kids are all grown!
But not us. Our kids are the youngest of this generation. Our second child is still quite young so she requires a lot of time, attention and energy, which is exhausting for me, because even though I’m the youngest of the new group of elders, I’m tired. I go to bed right after my daughter does, because I’m pretty wiped out from being the mom of an eight year old, amongst the many other things that I cram into my days (which includes inspiring young people to play music!). I get up early, BEFORE her, so I can ready myself for the day ahead.
I’d love to be going to concerts right now. I’m a rock and roll mom. But I’m tired! And broke. I’m asleep by the time any show starts. We’re not going to concerts again, or the theatre, or any other high ticketed events for grown ups. Not yet.
Thanksgiving is coming up. Which means I’ll get to hear all about the shows that the other elders have seen since Passover. I’ll try to be thankful. But I’ll also be jealous. Time to plug in a Tom Petty CD and take a nap…….
So now, at our family get togethers, instead of hearing old stories from the former Elders of characters who lived in a time, and in a land that few at the table had any recollection of, the conversation has turned to another time…….and a very different past. And, they’re talking about a new present – the New Elders are all sharing about the latest concerts they have gone to. They’re back in the saddle again! Why? Because they now have expendable income, time, and more importantly, energy. Their kids are all grown!
But not us. Our kids are the youngest of this generation. Our second child is still quite young so she requires a lot of time, attention and energy, which is exhausting for me, because even though I’m the youngest of the new group of elders, I’m tired. I go to bed right after my daughter does, because I’m pretty wiped out from being the mom of an eight year old, amongst the many other things that I cram into my days (which includes inspiring young people to play music!). I get up early, BEFORE her, so I can ready myself for the day ahead.
I’d love to be going to concerts right now. I’m a rock and roll mom. But I’m tired! And broke. I’m asleep by the time any show starts. We’re not going to concerts again, or the theatre, or any other high ticketed events for grown ups. Not yet.
Thanksgiving is coming up. Which means I’ll get to hear all about the shows that the other elders have seen since Passover. I’ll try to be thankful. But I’ll also be jealous. Time to plug in a Tom Petty CD and take a nap…….
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