Evidently pinchin' pennies ain't for politicians.

Greetings fellow Californians! So we still have no budget. Surprised? No? Well how 'bout this: the current proposal to curb the state deficit is to levy an advanced state tax increase of 10%, returned to us in 2010. With the 8th highest tax rate in the country and a wopping 15 B I L L I O N $ deficit...what the heck?! Ok so the government is inept, this I understand. Why not then have us, the citizens, take over and correct that which the government could not. I live in California, I love it, so sure, I have responsibilities. Seems reasonable, right? Oh, did you know that there will be no interest due to us tax payers for lending our hard earned money to the state?. The CA government gets to take our money in advance and we get nothing in return. Now, is it greedy to expect some sort of bump, something in return for bailing out our state? I don't know.

Well, consider this. The per capita personal income for CA residents is approximately 40,000$. CA is one of the wealthiest states in the country. We also have the greatest number of millionaires per capita in all of America. In addition, our state has a greater disparity between the rich and the poor than the entire USA! This illustrates that although there is such an enormity of wealth, there is a greater concentration of poor. So what's my point already?

A previous proposition to curb the state debt was to increase taxes on those earning over 321,000$ a year in an effort to prevent budget cuts to state wide services such as education. It was denied. By whom you ask? By Republicans. As the proposal was presented by Democrats and the rich majority tends to be Republican, go figure. So because of their greed, it very well may be that the scores of struggling families and everyone barely getting by on the skin of their teeth, will have less money to put food on the table with, and an even further decrease in their quality of life. And it's all because those who have more than they'll ever need and who can actually afford to, are too damn selfish to pitch in a little extra. Ah, freedom of choice at it's finest.

What the heck is Cream of Tartar?!

So I'm making myself dinner this fine eve and decided to experiment a bit with some spices. As I shuffled around my collection I unearthed two small, mostly full and unused shakers of Cream of Tartar. I pillaged them from my mum's cupboard (back in the 90's) and I've had them for yeeeeeears! Why?

Growing up when I did, home cooking was all there really was. Sure, fast food became popular in the 80's, but throughout my childhood my grandfather and mother were always a cookin'. It was a blessing for me as I've reaped the benefits of learning my way around a melon baller! ;D Out of all of the spices I have seen, known and used in my life thus far, I have never understood what the heck cream of tartar is or what it's really used for. So for those of you who have ever pondered the curious teleology of cream of tartar, enjoy the results of my arduous and taxing research on the subject.(actually it was more like 2.56 seconds on the interweb)

Cream of Tartar is an acid salt that is created when tartaric acid is half neutralized with potassium hydroxide, thus transforming it into a salt. Grapes are the only significant natural source of tartaric acid and cream of tartar is obtained from sediment left behind during wine making. Hunh! So why would you use it?? Well, if you wanted to stabilize and volumize your egg whites or make that frosting or desert sauce a bit creamier, use C of T. Oh, and it's great for polishing your brass or copper cook wares!

With great power...

My last entry got me thinking... Would it be irresponsible of us to dispose of all of our country's nuclear weapons?

For the better?...

It's pretty apparent the education system in this country is less than lack luster. It's been in a steady decline for several years and America is far behind many countries in the quality, quantity, and access of education. It has been buffeted by so many budget cuts, soaring tuitions, ineffective/unaffecting teachers and leaders, corruption, unfair standards and a continually less enthused and inattentive student body.

As with our government, radical change is severely needed. Up to the plate comes Washington D.C. Chancellor of Education, Michelle Rhee. First she closed several schools that were suffering and not keeping students up to par. She then 86'd a number of principals and teachers who were not, pardon the pun, making the grade. And now, in an attempt to boost not only GPA's but overall upstanding behavior of students/children, she has implemented a cash incentive in the amount of 100$, to be paid each month to those who are studious and excercise good moral comportment in the community.

As a child and certainly as a parent who is at wits end trying to motivate their child to do well in school, this is awesome!!! There are however, several people, both parents and faculty alike, who are deeply opposed to such actions. They feel that it will only hurt students in the long run.

I believe that it starts with solid nurturing from the parents and then ultimately culminates in the child's sense of self and achievement (which are constantly bombarded by multiple external influences). I'm not entirely sure on which side of the fence I sit regarding this issue. I certainly give credit where credit is due. Kudos Chancellor Rhee! I am behind brave and radical change to break through hurdles 150%. It's the cash incentive that I'm uncertain of. In a progressively desensitized society, however, I suppose it comes down to using whatever stimulus you can find that instigates positive response...

Navel Vortex... How vexing!

Fellas and fellitas. If you have an inny, please for the sake of all that is sacred, clean it on a regular basis! I was recently preparing to shower and saw some lint in that joyous of lint collection pools. As I began some overdue maintenance, out popped the Paddington Bear doll I lost when I was 2!

Learn your lessons well, kids!

Helen, Helen Wheels...

I love riding! It's just so much incredible fun as well as great therapy! It also has its perks. On my way home this evening, I pulled up behind a young lady on a bike at a light. I think she was searching for neutral and put it in gear. She stalled. I chuckled a little. I figured she was a newbie. I remembered when I was a kid and was learning how to ride. I stalled constantly!

She saw me in her mirror. She started up, turned back and gave me the thumbs up. I pulled up next to her and we chatted for a moment. She bought the bike 2 weeks ago and has been riding for a month. I wished her a safe ride and to enjoy it as much as possible then rode off.

Further down the road, I pull up to another bike. This time it was a yellow Honda SuperHawk. I look over to say hello and it's another lovely lady! If you're wondering what the big deal is, firstly, women bikers are rare, secondly, I find women bikers extremely sexy! We exchanged greetings and the light changed. A few blocks up we hit another light. She smiled and made a comment I couldn't quite make out. We then both hit a fresh red light and made formal introductions. I can't help but remember her smile, so white and friendly! And her eye brows really stood out. They are dark, angular, and really drew my attention.

She was heading to Hermosa to visit a friend. Funnily enough, she lives in LA and commutes to the South Bay whereas I live in the South Bay and commute to LA... Anywho, she was really cool. We both road off through the Baldwin Hills and onto the 405. She blew by me and waved. I followed her off her exit and at the first stop, pulled up and asked if she'd like to go for a ride this weekend. She motioned and told me to pull over. She told me she'd really like to, however, her mother will be visiting from Alaska this weekend. She then reiterated that she'd really like to. She gave me her number and told me to call her so we could make a rain date. How cool is that?!

Pain...real or imagined?

My heart hurts.

No silly, atonement isn't what you put in the fax machine!

An artist discovers his genius the day he dares not to please. - André Malraux

Art is the desire of a man to express himself, to record the reactions of his personality to the world he lives in. - Amy Lowell

Art is coming face to face with yourself. -
Jackson Pollock

What is real is not the external form, but the essence of things . . . it is impossible for anyone to express anything essentially real by imitating its exterior surface. - Constantin Brancusi

It's only words... unless they're true. - David Mamet

All art is autobiographical; the pearl is the oyster's autobiography. - Federico Fellini

We must never forget that art is not a form of propaganda; it is a form of truth. - John F. Kennedy

Every great work of art is offensive to someone, for a work of art is a protest against things as they are and a proclamation of things as they ought to be. - Gerald W. Johnson

Censorship always defeats its own purpose, for it creates in the end the kind of society that is incapable of exercising real discretion. -
Henry Steele Commager

The writer must be willing, above everything else, to take chances, to risk making a fool of himself - or even to risk revealing the fact he is a fool. - Jessamyn West

What marks the artist is his power to shape the material of the pain we all have. - Lionel Trilling

A work of art which did not begin in emotion is not art. - Paul Cezanne

Art is a way of saying what it means to be alive, and the most salient feature of existence is the unthinkable odds against it. For every way that there is of being here, there are an infinity of ways of not being here. Historical accident snuffs out whole universes with every clock tick. Statistics declare us ridiculous. Thermodynamics prohibits us. Life, by any reasonable measure, is impossible, and my life—this, here, now—infinitely more so. Art is a way of saying, in the face of all that impossibility, just how worth celebrating it is to be able to say anything at all. - Richard Powers

Art is long, life short; judgement difficult, opportunity transient. - Goethe

The artist is always engaged in writing a detailed history of the future because he is the only person aware of the nature of the present. - Wyndham Lewis

The fact that no one understands you doesn't mean that you're an artist...

Now begins my personal practice of humility...Through many, many years of denial and self doubt, and the constant badgering (lovingly so) of various wonderful people in my life, I have been able to grasp the realization, nay embrace it, that I am an artist. As I have stated before, it is my life, my purpose for existence in this body; through the struggles, the triumphs, the countless defeats, the snickers, the praises, the befuddlements, the astounding set backs and self deprecations, the revelations...
It is what I do, in whatever shape, form, colour, or medium it may embody: photography, painting, writing, sculpture, performing...

As we are merely the summation of our experiences and people in our lives, it is life, my life and the people and things in it that inspire me, motivate me, provide me the sustenance to create. It is my process. I am also a performer and thus my work is projected beyond myself. What I do, I do out of a dire necessity to express, to share, to heal, to grow. In the far distance follows a hope that someone, somewhere, sometime, may derive emotion, inspiration, perspective, insight, or strength from the remains. I do not do this with malintent for, or praise by others.

In the wake of Papa's death and my tellings of it, it has been brought to my attention that not everyone may understand this, and/or has serious personal issue with it. As I am merely a fallible creature and stumbling along my own path, I sought counsel from some dear and wise people in my life. I first asked the brother I never had, my spiritual and intellectual anchor, his input. His first remark was that I made an ethical screw up in publishing a private moment. He then followed by saying that what was written was very nice, honest, candid and bittersweet, nothing seemed out of place. I also asked my other brother from another mother his input. His reply was, "Dude, you're an artist to the core, it's stamped on your ass! What you wrote is so you! It's the only thing you know and anyone who knows you, will get it. Not everyone will get that." I also told a fabulous and connected woman in my life, quite frankly one of the most amazing people I have ever (re)met, that I had every intention of writing about her presence in my life. I asked how she feels about that. She asked me not to yet, as it is between us. And so with this in mind, I have been in a state of reflection and this is the product.

I am concerned that I may have acted in a behavior that I admonish. Whether this is true or not and I am correct in my assumption or not, I express myself thusly...
We all, each of us, have different stress point tolerances, emotional triggers, psychological stamina, brute strength, levels of communication, comprehensions of the world, of our own worlds, of each other... I love my family!! My entire family, with no exclusions. Sometimes, we F*@# up, or misunderstand, or misinterpret or miscommunicate. Sometimes we don't want to be bothered, or are unable to deal. Sometimes we assume, presume, collectivize, or minimize. Sometimes we don't focus on what the important issue is at hand and get caught up in our own poo instead. Sometimes we get so encompassed in trying to care for everyone else, we forget ourselves for the worse rather than the better. Of these, we are all guilty, regardless of what family!

For anyone on who's behalf I misspoke, I sincerely apologize. If it seems as though I am attempting to elevate myself above anyone, I am not. To those who I have expressed my disappointment in, please know that it in no way signifies a loss of love! I have inadvertently disappointed people at times. If they stopped loving me, I'd have no one to share life with. You see, we don't usually realize that we let someone down momentarily. That's where the beauty lies in people telling us. If no one ever told me I had done so, cripes man, I'd never think to cut it out and be more conscious!

The death of a loved one is probably one of the most emotionally and mentally taxing environments to be immersed in. People say and do things they don't mean, they don't realize, they shouldn't. I think it is, in part, a way to release and attempt to make ourselves feel better and more important. Thankfully, forgiveness, understanding and family love have the power to persevere.

The odd irony of to whom...

Papa is dead. 8.35am, Monday October 8th, 2007. We had been giving him 2 different meds all week. Morphine for the pain, and RDHP(or something-I'll figure it out later) which is a 4 drug cocktail to help him relax and sleep. It all had worked rather well until Sunday nite. Throughout the course of the nite, Papa grew more and more agitated. He continually complained of having to go (to the bathroom). Each time I would lower his bed rail, get him standing, up over to the commode, and then back into bed. And each time, nothing would come. You see, he didn't really have to go, it was the blood building up in his abdomen that was creating pressure and making him feel as though he did. He began complaining of back pain and stomach pain, and so I gave him morphine. He was restless, and so I gave him the other meds. He was still restless, more meds, the third time he got up, he tremored slightly, then began to pass out. I got him back into bed. I sat him up just to situate him in the bed and he began to pass out again. Now he was quiet. The look in his eyes as they glazed over was a gut wrenching sight.

I knew it was time. I ran upstairs and woke Nana and my mum. Papa came to and was in discomfort. I gave him 2 more shots of morphine. He finally began to relax. We called everyone and they all arrived post haste. As all seven of his children, and all of his grandchildren stood in the room, around him, watching him, Papa's respirations grew shallower and less frequent. And then, finally, he partook of his last mortal breath. Nana was right there, at his side, and she burst wide open. She leaned her body over his and lay on top of him, crying, weeping, shouting "No!". The rest of the family followed. I immediately went to her side, holding her, in an attempt to console her and reassure her that it was alright. His body was no longer in pain. He was in the room with each and all of us. My mother stood at his head, with her hands cradling his cheeks. I rose and went to her side. "He's ok now. He's still here, ya know?." She cried. "I know.", she muttered under sobs, and I embraced her.

As my mum and aunts helped Nana into the kitchen, I sat down beside Papa. I held his arm, his right arm with his sacred heart in mine. I lingered on the inks of our arms, together, one last time. "Hey there old man." I couldn't move my eyes from him, the man who raised me, instructed me, led me, cherished me, respected me, loved me unconditionally, who was proud of me, who never forgot me during even the worst of his alzheimer's, the man whom I idolize, exalt, appreciate and adore. The way I have known him these 32 years, is no more. Being blessed with my spirituality and level of awareness, I realize that death is merely a transition from the physical shell, and that Papa still exists and flourishes. With this in mind, I just sat there, regarding him, taking my last, deep, concrete visions. Tears again, crested my eye but never quite broke. Then they were gone.

Mum called the hospice nurse who was at another house in Basking Ridge. She got stuck in traffic and didn't arrive to officially pronounce until well after 9 o'clock. I stood beside the nurse as she dispensed all of the remaining meds into paper towels and then into the trash. She quickly completed her paperwork, expressed her sincere condolences, and then left. The coroner came shortly after 10, alone, in his white wagon. He removed an orange Reeves stretcher from the back and then proceeded up the front steps. I pulled up Papa's pj's under the sheet...You see, he was an exceptionally modest man, to the end, and I wanted him to be able to have that. We then rolled Papa to me, placed the stretcher under him, rolled him away, and unrolled the stretcher. After covering him in a sheet, I helped the M.E. cinch up the straps and us 6, Uncle Rob and Frank, Robert, Christopher, Steven and myself, each took a handle and carried Papa to the wagon, onto the gurney, 2 buckles, and in he went..."See you later old man."

At noon, I went with my mother and Nana, along with mum's friend, to the funeral home to make the arrangements for Papa's cremation and service. I was absolutely flabbergasted! I never fathomed how much goes into caring for dead loved ones and how many details there are! We were there for a good 3 hours easy! Social Security benefits transferring, how many death certificates needed, where do they have to go, what about his insurance going to Nana, obituary, urn, what clothes to cremate him in, priest, VFW, repass, flowers, food, music, photos, contacting all the legalities concerned, what will medicaid cover, what won't it cover, prayer cards, words, holy moly! Phew...finally over and back to the house.

Oh the dramma!...

Well before we left for the parlor, I handed everyone pen and paper, and asked them to write some things they would like said about Papa in the obit. Aunt J was the only person able to sit down and write about Papa and her love for him. M began writing the names of the kids and grandkids, but was ferklempt and could not continue. When we left, no one was able to give us anything else. For what we thought we could afford, we put the names of each of the children with their spouses, and each of the grandchildren, then the number of great grandchildren. Now apparently, my cousin J has recently found reason to believe that his first child might not actually be his child. Because of this, he and his wife, D, had resolved to not include her as a grandchild. Somehow Aunt N had incited between herself and D, an argument about this (they've not gotten on from the get go). Nana decided she wanted J's first child counted because in Papa's heart, she was his great granddaughter and we needed to do right by him and what is in his heart! J took offense to this because no one talked to him about it first, and D, who had for the entire weekend, holed herself up in either the basement or mum's bedroom because of issues she has with her estranged deceased father, was right along side of him.

I couldn't believe what the two of them were doing. This was about Papa and they were making it about themselves. I attempted to reason with the both of them and D lost her patience and shot me down, gave me the hand and walked away with closed ears. J couldn't get over how no one talked to him and he's the last to know. "It's not about you, bud." Well, J and D's children, H and B, whom I love and adore, were not talking to myself or my mother. How really odd! I couldn't believe that their mother, actually instructed them not to talk to us. And as I was downstairs talking with J and pulling teeth to make him understand the sitch, B barreled down and whispered to him that mommy said he shouldn't talk to me! I was dumbfounded. D came down and began packing up their luggage to load with every intent of leaving. Before the service, "What happened between you and your dad sucks! I get it! But you dragged those children all the way up here to support your husband in his grief for his grandfather, and so that they could see Papa one last time. That's what this is about!"

Wednesday October 10
They had disappeared before the service and we were left to the conclusion that they weren't coming. Nana was furious. We arrived to the parlor, and there they were...thankfully, however the kids were still avoiding us like plague. The service was nice. My Grandpa came! It was soooo good to see him! I got to meet plenty of folk, and see some I've not seen in many years. The VFW boys were great, they presented Nana with a bible, flag, and played taps...that set off alot of people. After the words, and as some were departing, H and B came running up to mum and myself and latched on to our legs. We gather that J had finally had enough! He and D got right into their car and left though. I am so disappointed in D. My mother, Nana, Papa, and myself, welcomed her to the family with open arms, respect, and compassion. I've spent many a night and noon on the phone with them, trying to help them communicate with each other and save their marriage. And she comes into the house, and does what she does. I and everyone else love J and the kids to death! I don't think D will be welcomed back in mum and Nana's home, or anyone else's. It's sad that things happened the way they did.

Tending to the Garden (state)...it makes you strong, but sure gets dirt under the nails!

I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity. ~Gilda Radner

Vvvvvvvv Vvvvvvvvv (the sound of my phone vibrating). "Marty, Papa's in the hospital. He's dying." These are the words I woke up to this Friday morning. At 4am, Papa had gotten out of bed to pee and fell. My mum ran in to pick him up and as she did so, his eyes rolled up and he passed out (hmmm, sounds eerily familiar, eh?!). At the ER, an MRI was done and an aneurysm was found in his stomach. 8cm, leaking, and bleeding out into his abdomen. Having just celebrated his 88th birthday, and having undergone such illness and trauma only a couple of years ago, the doctor knew that Papa would not survive surgery to close it. All there is to do is wait...

I was on the first available flight out. Now 529$ for an "emergency fair" hardly seems compassionate considering the internet fair was 529$...I'll have to have a word with US Airways at a later date. I touched down in Newark at 10.55pm EST, hopped a cab and was on my way to the house. FYI, don't take a cab from Newark to the greater Bridgewater area unless you're willing to drop 75-100! Phew! The taxi pulled up, I jumped out, and the first thing I saw was the gaping smile of my Uncle Rob. I hugged him so tightly I could breathe through his lungs.

After being buffeted by family hugs, handshakes and kisses, I made it to Papa's bedside. The lights were low, the air stifled yet calm, and I sat in a blond wooden chair with oddly lain spindles that whispered "back breaker" from across the room. I looked at him in the dim glow and lay my hand to his right arm. His eyes opened briefly and instantly connected with my obsequious gaze. "Hiya sweetheart.", he said. " Hi Papa. I'm here. It's ok now. I love you. You are the greatest man in my life, you always will be.", I whispered into his ear as I stood, leaning over him, holding his cool dry hand, as he drifted off. "Okay."

It is now late night Saturday. I don't know that I could aptly put into words the feelings I possess at seeing my entire family in one place for the first time in decades! Rightly said, it sucks that the dying of my grandfather is the reason, however, it is still magnificent. Let not death ease the mind of trivial burden, though! Despite the circumstance, my family still manages to bicker, bitch, and chide each other. It got to the point where it was happening right over Papa's bed. That was enough. I told them to get out of the room. Now! I had a little talk with everyone for failure to know what else to do. I mean, here's my family, as much dysfunction as there is, I love them! Each and every one, with a passion! But this is not about them. It's about Papa! The man laying in bed, dying. The only father I've ever known, and their father! Not only is it bad juju for Papa, it was tearing Nana apart. And my mother...the Universe knows we've had a bitter and terrible relationship for many years (which I'm working on for all those scrutinous eyeballs out there!) and even from 3000 miles away I could see that she's been the pillar of the family! She took in Nana and Papa of her own accord, has taken care of them, provided for them, delt with all the poo from everybody, including myself, and she's still standing, still there. I saw a dire necessity in bringing this to the light for everyone. For cryin' out loud, just cut it out!

Calmness has now come. In the several moments I have sat at Papa's side, regarding him in the night, smiles come to my face. Smiles of memories in passing, of Barney's, of his treasure trove of found items stashed in the drawer of the night stand, of his finger and thumb firing off with a wink and a "Pkkkewgh", of the amazing man he has been.

I'd be a liar if I told you I shed no tears. They've been teenie tiny, and have not quite crested the inner eyes, but they've made themselves known. I've been preparing for this for a while now. It began when I embarked on my journey to the west coast those 8 years ago. Oh how the flood gates flew open! Knowing that I was traversing a continent and leaving Nana and Papa behind was one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life! Now yesterday, I was fighting back bouts of anxiety trying to arrange my flight here, but that all eased once he looked up at me with those big blues. I find comfort in knowing my peace is made. For as his body, merely a shell, dwindles, his spirit will flourish.

One of the crowning moments of the trip so far has been hangin' with my cousins R and J. We grew up together, intermittently, but none the less. And we three amigos bunked in the basement last night, rehashing old memories of yore, catching each other up on our lives and accomplishments, and perusing old photos. It was a hoot! And the second moment was probably seeing my cousin Charlie bound down the stairs in his clean shaven, hair combed, silk shirt wearin', cologne totin' greatness! He drove down from new Hampshire today. It was sooo great to see him again. Damn, I'm chokin' up... Pluukkeh! Excuse me.