Life of Wry

Came home from an unexpectedly long day at work to find a lovely gift on my front porch from an even lovelier friend.

She crocheted this silk and cotton scarf in blues and browns, with tiny buddhist medallions dangling from the edges, herself. And as she did, she imagined I might like it, so she just gave it to me. It had an incredibly nice card attached and was wrapped in tissue and packaged in a manilla envelope. And there it was when I got home. It’s fun coming home to a package on the porch not from Amazon (though sometimes those are nice, too).

I could just not be more pleased.

It’s a good time to remember that life is sweet. That there is a ton of goodness out there. That humans, at their core, are kind and loving and generous of spirit.

When in doubt about that fact, just reach out to a friend.

Yesterday’s pies in pictures: a pair of chicken pot pies and a marion berry pie. (Both courtesy of Ikeda’s.)

Before:

Look nice and appetizing, no?

And during:

Not my nor Jim’s plate.

Welp. Another March 14, another Pi Day. Our last to celebrate with Peter. It’s not that we won’t carry on the tradition of eating pies on Pi Day when Peter’s out of the house, but it just won’t be the same when he’s not here.

And here, I didn’t even bake a pie for his last Pi Day at home. I bought them. I texted Peter at school today and asked what kind of pies he’d like and, based on his choices, concluded the best solution was Ikeda’s, mostly cuz I hadda work all afternoon.

So, for dinner tonight, though I’m a particular fan of my own chicken pot pie, I picked up Ikeda’s famous homemade version, and for dessert, their other famous pie–the Marionberry.

Easy as pie.

~~

In other Peter Pi Day news:

Peter started memorizing Pi when he was nine.  In March of his 4th grade year, he was up to 193 digits.  Teachers generally made a fuss about Pi, and maybe he knew he was among the best of the memorizers, but it was largely just a personal endeavor (obsession).

Junior high competitions started to spice things up a bit. In eighth grade he entered the school-wide contest at Holmes, sponsored, as it were, by the math department. He went in cold and remembers he got “probably around 80,” which was not so competitively impressive. (Though being a person who’s memorized exactly 5 digits: 3.1415, I’m in awe.) The next year, he worked a bit harder and ended up finishing third place overall. And won a pie! So proud was he, that it became the top entry in the awards, prizes and recognitions category of his college applications. (It was actually the only entry in this category.)

Not sure what admissions officers are thinking about that one.

But hey, he memorized Pi to 213 digits that year! If I were a college, I’d want him!

I was party to something last night that I found remarkable. I’d just finished a game of chess with Peter–a game I’d actually, miraculously, won… first win in years, but certainly in this particular phase of chess obsession. He asked if I’d indulge him in a blind game.. just a few moves.. to see what it’s like. I agreed.

Basically, in a blind game of chess, one player covers his eyes. The other person moves the pieces–his own, and, at the blind player’s direction, his opponent’s. Peter was the blind guy.

We begin.

He’s white, and opens. “E4.” I move his piece, then mine in response, and announce E5. You probably know, the chess board is a grid, all squares identified by their placement in the A-H, 1-8 configuration. It’s not hard to figure out the name of each square… but if you’re on the upside-down side, as I was, you have to think backwards. I had to carefully count squares each time before moving pieces. I’m sure it’s something you adjust to quickly. I didn’t. But that’s beside the point.

It’s also besides the point that, were I the blind guy, after two moves, I’d be done. I’d no longer know where anything was and I’d react in total frustration by sweeping my arm dramatically across the whole board, sending pieces flying in every direction. But that’s me.

The remarkable thing about this game was it went on and on. At one point, maybe seven or eight moves in, I, the sighted person, the one carefully counting squares, made an error in announcing a move. Peter questions it: “Knight to C 6, are you sure?” “Oh… oops… you’re right, D6, my bad, sorry, honey.”

We didn’t finish the game, but I’m going to guess we each moved about eight or nine times. Each. That’s about 16-18 moves to hold in your head. When he removed the scarf (actually a cloth napkin) from his eyes and swiveled around he recognized the board, but admitted he’d lost track of a couple of the pieces.

Still.

I know kids have amazing brains. They have amazing capacities for memorization. But chess is, on its face, complex, in that pieces move so differently up and down the board–some at right angles, some not. This is NOT checkers. One bishop’s zipping back and forth diagonally on white squares, while the other’s on black. AND you have the added dimension of remembering the grid’s naming system.  AND your opponent’s pieces. AND strategy for god’s sake.

I almost cried.

A little for the brittleness of my own brain and a LOT for the power of his. Mostly what gets me is his eagerness to master things and the intensity with which he pursues that mastery. (Not ALL things, mind you, but many things.) It was sweet and amazing to witness.

I’m so in awe.

I think I need to teach Peter bridge, where card counters and rememberers thrive. Then make sure he’s always my partner.

I was dubious. Here we have the quintessentially perfect Saturday: nothing on the calendar, a few minor at-home things to accomplish (or not) and stormy weather. Brew some coffee, poke around on the interwebs, pull out that new Jonathan Franzen book. I’ve never taken a nap in my life, but this would be the perfect day for it.

But Jim wanted to go to a city council candidates’ debate.

I didn’t need to go, he said. And that was true. He’s super involved. Prospective candidates like to meet with him for his input. He knows the issues: Mace innovation park, Nishi, water, city budget, fiber… he follows all of it.  But me.. not so much. Since leaving DCTV, I’ve been a wee bit out of the loop–mostly by design. I do get a lot of info and stories from Jim, though, so I kinda sorta know what’s going on. But for someone who used to be in the dead center of community life, know every issue, every player and was a frequent attendee at council meetings…my community detachment has been kind of weird.

So.. I didn’t need to go, but a sense of civic guilt sort of got me. Just a little. Nothing scary about stepping in again, I’d just gotten way out of the habit. So I said okay.  Jim suggested we go to an early lunch, then head over.

As we approached the Davis Community Church, where the debate was held, I said, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard any of these guys speak in public.”

Seriously. That is remarkable.

Walking in, it was a very familiar sight… a who’s who of current and former electeds, core activists and the usual community suspects. Hell, I even saw two former colleagues working the debate coverage. (I did not know it was sponsored by Davis Media Access.)

Anyway, it was mostly this:

Host David, incumbents Lucas and Brett, and aspiring council members Will, Paul and Matt (I couldn’t get my camera in good position, sorry).

And that was that. Two hours of Davis issues. I was totally engaged and have pretty strong opinions about each of the candidates. Instantly up to speed. Voila.

Very glad I went.

~~

As a nice parallel universe kind of thing, lunch conversation was all about the national election. More, really, about the state of our republic. Jim and I talked about last night’s chaos in Chicago at the Trump rally-that-wasn’t and the bigger picture of a society increasingly divided along class and race lines. Shudder. I feel like I need to do a little reading on political movements and the history of fascism. It’s getting weird out there… outside the Davis bubble.

Speaking of my beloved Davis bubble, I got a nice robo-text from Brandi a little while ago about “an awesome organizing rally happening at UC Davis” for Bernie on Monday. I can’t tell you how pleasing that is. And how nice to know there won’t be an ugly man with big hands (terrific hands, the biggest, no doubt) on stage shouting down anyone with an opposing viewpoint.  Shudder.

One final note. Our young college applicant received his first rejection yesterday… from none other than UC Davis. While he had no intention of attending UCD, he is deeply disappointed to have been rejected by the home school. He actually feels somewhat insulted (hurt, more like it). I’m sure it will not be his last rejection. I’m also sure, as Jim said, there is plenty to learn in managing rejection and disappointment. But I feel pretty bad for him. I am glad that he went out this afternoon to hit golf balls with a friend who did get accepted. Good sign that he is keeping his head up.

I just spent the last thirty minutes or so reading through stories about the cancelation of a D. Trump rally in Chicago this afternoon. Security felt the crowd was too unstable, they feared riots. Apparently, thousands of University students and others mobilized and gathered, inside and out, in peaceful demonstration. Their message: there is no room for Trump’s vitriol in their community. But it quickly became not peaceful. Hundreds of police called in, fights broken up, event canceled.

I’m wondering where all this is going to go. Like everyone else. I’m seeing months of ugly confrontations between Trump diehards and protestors who are soon, I imagine, to ramp up their presence at all of his events. And why not? It’s time to mobilize, people. This bloated ego of a guy and his hysterical minions have been sucking up way too much airtime. What better way to show that, in fact, the country is actually made up of people who care about human rights, civil rights, income equality, the environment (and some of them are actually brown). Trump’s is not the only story here.

Trump, bragging about the size of his rallies, says that he’s generating newfound interest in the presidential campaign which will increase republican voters, and that the party should thank him. We shall see. Republican operatives seem not to want his particular brand of angry, uneducated guys, but maybe they’re desperate enough to take what they can get.

In any case, I think we’re in for lots of scuffles and skirmishes. I wish I could say it was fun to watch. But, it’s just not.

Oh.. anyway. Blechh.

In other news, Trump’s strategy to “look presidential” at last night’s republican debate, to quiet things down and to behave civilly (he even had to draw attention to the fact because, damn, he was working hard at it),  was a good effort. Utterly, laughably transparent, but fine. A few weeks back, he said he was going to tone it down and boasted that he could look more presidential than anybody (direct quote). He trotted the new him out last night. The media bought it.

And the other guys responded by also toning it down.  Their strategy was to stick to policy points, some sillily pandering, and for the most part, a quiet night ensued.

Which sure took the wind out of Kasich’s sails as the other guys, behaving adultly, undermined his best feature. Kasich’s I’m-the-only-guy on stage-acting-like-a-grownup fell flat in the subdued, relatively polite tone of last night’s event. But the truth is, while Kasich has seemed so reasoned and experienced, he’s really only attractive as a candidate because the rest of the field is so bonkers.  And now that the others have assumed these civil demeanors, Kasich’s pretty much got nothing left. He just sounds whiny now. He’s prolly done.  Hoping he kills it in Ohio, though (and Rubio in Florida). That would make things interesting. I want Trump stopped. He could be the best thing ever for the democratic party, but I just can’t stand this.

~~

So, a few weeks back, David Brooks, writing in the NYT, said the below. I know Brooks is considered pretty moderate for a conservative–which is why he’s one of the few conservative commentators I can listen to–but I think it says a lot that he expresses this:

Agree wholeheartedly. No doubt in my mind that history will ably sift through all the hysterical, reactionary, fear-based (and yep, bigoted) garbage and tell an amazing–THE amazing–story about the Obama years.

Decided to punt to a throwback picture today. Thank goodness for Thursdays.

Kindergarten. Chavez. The playhouse. Mmmm, popsicles.

From left:

Maya: After kindergarten, she and Peter ended up in the same 1st-2nd grade combo class. Then, so advanced was she, she skipped ahead a grade and we lost touch a little. She went on to be wildly popular in high school and was a star of the volleyball team, and is now at UC Santa Barbara. She works at Crepeville when she’s back in Davis, so Jim and I are able to keep tabs on her.

Peter: We know his story.

Anna: She was a scrappy tomboy then, super athletic and one of Peter’s best buddies. They had lots of play dates together. I have a favorite picture of them in the backyard, swinging together on the hammock, deep in conversation. Can’t post quite yet. She is an amazing athlete at DHS, star of both the basketball and lacrosse teams. Not sure yet where she’ll go to college.

Jack: Still one of Peter’s best and closest friends. Like his dad, he’s an accomplished musician, and a very independent guy. By junior high, he’d already left mainstream school and enrolled in DSIS. He was the first of Peter’s friends to get a real job (Nugget). He graduated early, too, and these days he focuses a lot on body building and fitness. He and Peter still get together regularly to talk.

Today was the last day to drive for the shelter. For this year anyway. The Interfaith Rotating Winter Shelter will be back next year and I’m sure I’ll be a driver again, but now that it’s March, the program is wrapping up.

This year, of course, it could be very useful to remain open for another few weeks, given the weather we’re predicted to get, notably the rain. But the infrastructure isn’t in place to do that, unfortunately, which means a lot of folks will be scrambling for covered places to sleep.

I just can’t imagine.

In the three years I’ve been a morning driver, I wouldn’t say I’ve gotten to know anybody really well, but I’ve gotten to know a lot of people a little. It’s given me the chance to talk with a lot of Davis’ homeless over the years. I’ve found it helpful in connecting with not only the people, but a little with their experience of being homeless. It’s not like I say, “Hey, man, what’s it like to live on the streets?” I don’t do that. But in the course of the drive from one church or another, to downtown, a lot comes up…during conversations I have–usually with whoever’s sitting in the front seat–or conversations they might have among themselves. I always make a point of wearing my hearings (my new name for my hearing aids) because I like to hear all the dialogue going on in the back seat. So many have some degree of mental illness, so the conversations can be interesting (and enlightening). It really runs the gamut. Some are really sweet, some surly, some totally checked out.. but by and large, good to talk to.

Anyway.

Here are a couple pictures I took a few weeks ago, when the shelter was out at the Unitarian. That meant a lovely drive along Russell at sunrise (see the sun?):

I remember getting very wet walking through the grass to get these pictures.

Those young ladies are members of the high school Advanced Treble Choir. They traditionally sing a beautiful rendition of the Star Spangled Banner to open all home games.

This being the first home game of the 2016 season, they were there. And, yep, they sang beautifully. Good start to the home season!

Dan and the high school field maintenance crews were able to get the field dry enough after the weekend’s hellacious storm to actually play today, and we managed to get a whole game in–though drops fell here and there–before the next storm hits. Not expecting to get any more games in this week. We hear March is supposed to be just one storm after another. Anticipating lots of canceled or postponed games this early season.

Peter got to be the opening pitcher for this game, which was so nice. Definitely enjoying the fact he’s getting so many outings. He pitched well (5 innings, 2 hits, no runs, 2 strike outs, 2 walks) and had three assists. Yay! They won 9-0 (and have won all six games they’ve played so far).

Soon as he got home, he checked a few election returns, then turned around and left–off to play chess with Solly, who also had a great game today (3 for 3, including a beautiful double and a 2-RBI single).

I hope these guys appreciate what a good life they have. This really is the good stuff, isn’t it?

[Smiling]

It was a significant day. I’m processing it…. and may write about it later.

So as not to tease, it has to do with my receiving a more or less confirmed diagnosis of arthritis (osteo) which will likely mean a hip replacement down the road a spell. If that sounds like old news, it sort of is. Except that I wasn’t buying it when it was proffered as an explanation for my limpy, painful symptoms a year ago (by the same orthopedist). And now I’m pretty much buying it.

The orthopedist is Dr. Haight, respected, sharp and reportedly an ace surgeon. I should have liked her, but when she delivered her opinion a year ago, it made me cry and the appointment went very downhill from there. I needed lots more opinions. Four or five orthopedists, a couple of physical therapists, a trainer, an acupuncturist, a massage therapist and a physician’s assistant later, I had a multitude of diagnoses. All the MDs went with osteoarthritis (what do they know?!). From the others I got things like torn labrum, hip dysplasia, ruptured tendon. I pursued all kinds of strategies to deal with all of those things.

A year later and no real progress to speak of, I decided to return to Holly Haight. Which was a surprising move on my part. I usually have a hard time overcoming harbored grudges.

Different vibe this time–largely because Jim came with me for reinforcement–but same diagnosis. Worse now, but still your basic age-related bone degeneration.

It’s one of those good news bad news things. Bad in that the diagnosis now seems so very certain and who wants stupid osteoarthritis in their hip?! Good in that the certainty liberates me from chasing down all these other theories, constantly dealing with raised and dashed hopes, and never really knowing what it is, exactly, that I have. Also liberating in that I don’t have to be stubborn anymore.

This takes me to so many places emotionally. I’ve lost, at least for awhile, something I totally took for granted–easy mobility. Tough for someone who sort of thinks of herself as the athletic type. I’m only 60 with decades of plans that involve being mobil. I’m also thinking about, you know, aging, and all that we, as aging people, will face. This little arthritis thing, I’m sure, is but a tip of the iceberg. Not a small topic. I guarantee I’ll deal, and have a good attitude about it. Soon. I will. And perhaps I’ll write.

In the meantime, here are some nice photos taken on the drive home from Sac this morning:

A very nicely swollen Sacramento River (hey, just like my hip!), shot from the road that follows it along the west side–River Road, I think.

Railroad trestle along Road 22, aka Hwy 16, aka Main St (Woodland):

And wild mustard along Rd 102:

All shot with my iPhone from a moving vehicle, as usual, and slightly processed.