Those of you that are following JDT and me know that I’ve been in CA for a brief, yet incredibly fulfilling and busy visit. You’ll also know that my last post was a bit inane. Frankly I needed to get away a bit. Having done that, I’ll get on.

I intend to post two blogs, at least thinly connected.

As I’ve said in earlier posts, a significant desire for our BK adventure was to rediscover our relationship with each other. Simply put, how to be a couple and work toward more of a shared experience. From my perspective we’ve earned an A+. Particularly for two incredibly independent, strong minded, strong willed individuals. Interestingly, this is one of the biggest attractions for me of Joyce. AND this shared experience has rekindled that attraction. And life is messy. Those that know me well, know I am keenly attracted to messy.

Before I left BK to come to CA, JDT asked me if I had read the blog recently. Now I see why. Over the course of our blogging, we will each occasionally mention or ask about one of our recent posts. I’ve come to believe, that part of being strong willed and strong minded is also a sense of pride (at least for us). I know when I ask JDT it comes from my sense of having done something good (in my opinion). Well, if you want to really know why I love my wife so deeply, please read her blog post “inner conflict”. JDT you done good!

I like to say – Answers are overrated. Questions are the good stuff. And, maybe it would be better to say the question and the search for answers is an essence of the human existence. While reading JDT’s “inner conflict” I began to cry. Certainly not of sadness, but of the realization of just how beautiful and wonderful JDT had stated one of the biggest, if not the biggest inspirations in our lives. JDT you inspire me!

This blog writing can be challenging. And maybe not in the way you are thinking. I have found myself wanting to write a post, but my ideas and thoughts are all over the place. I’ve been trying to gather them in some cogent way. I think I’m going to give up on that idea and just write. Maybe a bit of a stream of consciousness. Fair warning. You can stop reading now…

It’s October. I can’t believe it. Where is our time going? I find myself a bit emotional and it’s coming from somewhere between sadness when I think about leaving Brooklyn and excitement when I think about returning to Walnut Creek. GAT and I have tried to stay in the moment. I think we’ve succeeded…so far. Part of my confusion of emotions is because as we speak, Glen is in California – WC and Chico. I was supposed to go too, but circumstances changed so it’s just Dug and me in Brooklyn. I’m not exactly jealous of Glen…but maybe envious? And yet…

Here I am working on my independence again – fear or familiarity? Remember that so long ago? Well, I can report that I have conquered the subway (I only took one wrong train yesterday!) and I am filling my days with adventure out and about in Manhattan and Brooklyn. In fact, tonight I am going to “Six” on Broadway so yes, even the subway alone at night!!! (Don’t tell Earl, our next door neighbor. He would not approve.)

Our days here have been so full and we still have so many adventures to complete before we leave. While our list is getting shorter, it is also infinite. That’s what I love about New York. On Monday, we went to The Met Cloisters. It’s a beautiful, serene place up on the bluffs over the Hudson at the top of Manhattan, further north than we have ventured. I can truly say that I never would have made it there on a “regular” trip to NYC. Having this time is such a luxury. Which brings me to another mix of emotions.

Glen and I live with such abundance. Family. Friends. Finances. Freedom. (How’d I end up with four Fs?) We try to make the most of our good fortune, acknowledging that it was through hard work, effort, and careful planning (Glen’s) that we have arrived here. AND I know that we had a leg up on our path based on the color of our skin. Being in Brooklyn, I have become so aware of the privilege that I enjoy. I understand how much easier it is to be “blind” to my privilege when I live in a place where I don’t have to “see” it every day. So as I look around here, I am forever thinking, how do we make this life, our life (or whatever the preferred life is) available to everyone? How do we change a society that is so entrenched in its mores?

Then my friend Sherry posted a story on FB (yes, THAT FB – ugh). It was a familiar tale of a professor opening a law class in an unusual way – taunting the class by kicking out a student for no obvious reason, then asking them if he’d been right to do so. The obvious answer was no, but the students had stayed silent. The professor asked them about the purpose of laws. Their answers went from creating order, to providing justice, to protecting rights. The professor asked if he had done an injustice when he kicked the student out for no apparent reason and the students agreed, yes. Then he asked, “Why did you all stay silent? If we have laws, what do they mean if we don’t practice them?” Is there a connection between laws and dignity?

And there’s my answer. We can change society. We speak up. We call out injustice. We act. We engage. We be an upstander, not a bystander. We actively work to make our community – wherever that is – a safe and abundant place for all, in all ways.

Last Sunday, I woke up thinking about the Women’s March. I’ve marched in every march since January, 2017. I was hesitating to march because they say “never march alone” and here I am in Brooklyn without my usual cadre of marchers. I found myself feeling very emotional about Roe v Wade, the law that is being threatened. Therefore I decided I had to follow that emotion and march. And engage. And use my presence as an act. So yes, I marched – alone and with thousands of people.

I marched because I can’t stay silent. I’m glad I did.

I wish dignity, justice, hope, and abundance – for all.

PS “Six” is a fabulous play with a powerful message of the importance of telling your own story, standing up for yourself and each other, working together. And “girl power”. Go see it when you can. You won’t stop singing.

Travel is a complicated topic. There are many reasons to make travel a part of your life. I think one of the most important reasons is to learn about other people, places, and ways of being. Visiting other places develops understanding and empathy and makes connections. It broadens your thinking and experiences. You might even learn a little history! Travel is especially good for aging people. (Ugh – that hits a little too close to home.) It forces you to use your brain differently, to problem solve, to plan (or not?!), to experience new things. Glen and I love to travel. I often say that while we are on vacation, our major conversations are about our next destination. That’s half the fun – thinking about what’s to come. And yet…

As we live in a global society, there are considerations to ponder so that we can travel responsibly – for example, what’s the environmental impact of travel itself, the impact of additional people in a community, financial implications, the potential to spread viruses, etc. I read an NYT article today that discusses ways to be a “better” tourist. The author suggests that we ask the question – What impact will my presence have on the place I am visiting? This is a question I have struggled with while here in Brooklyn. How can we respectfully participate in the community without having a negative impact. Are we just imposing ourselves on the community? Or better yet, how can we have a positive impact? And that makes me wonder…is that just me thinking about me again – as if my impact is wanted or could be useful? It’s a bit of an inner conflict that I have wrestled with since we arrived.

I also just finished a book that I highly recommend – The Warmth of Other Suns by Isabel Wilkerson. (She also wrote the more recent book – Caste.) Her topic really hit home considering our location. The author presents her research on The Great Migration from the South to the North during the middle of the 20th Century. She explores the lives of three Southerners, two men and a woman, who left their communities in Florida, Mississippi, and Georgia and migrated to Chicago, New York and Los Angeles, for different reasons. One of the themes of her research is the conversation about whether Black Southerners were leaving something or going to something.

I learned a lot from this book and it caused me to consider our presence in Brooklyn. We are in a community that was populated by Black migrants from the South in the ’30s-60’s. They made this vibrant community what it is today. There are obvious signs of gentrification in BedStuy. Our neighbor Mike, told me that many of the locals are beginning to sell their brownstones to hipsters who can afford them and who will refurbish them. These brownstones have often been handed down from generation to generation and the families see an opportunity to sell at a high price allowing them to return to their familial roots in the South – even though they’ve never lived there. This tracks with Wilkerson’s research. While there are many Black-owned businesses in our neighborhood, there are also plenty owned by Whites indicating a change in the demographics. So while we aren’t “hipsters” (haha) and we’re not buying a brownstone or opening a business, how is our presence contributing to that gentrification or demographic change process?

So just how do we fit in? Remember when we first got here and were welcomed to the block party? We met our neighbors, received home-grown herbs (not that kind!), and Glen received a t-shirt from a our neighbor, Mike. Also, remember that Glen bbq’d by the stoop and shared his ribs with passersby? I’ve also written about my daily interactions with the groups of older men who play cards or just sit on the sidewalk and watch the world go by all day. We’ve felt so welcome and continue to have stoop conversations with our neighbors including with our next door neighbor, Earl who kindly and protectively provides us lots of safety advice. We try to contribute to the community by spending our money in our neighborhood. We regularly buy our groceries at the local market vs the “Whole Foods”ish market that’s nearby and I run to the corner bodega just about every day. We go to the bakery and coffee shop down the street several times a week. We visit our “Cheers” bar regularly and eat at local, neighborhood restaurants. We support local business owners.

So what are my questions? Hmmm…Do we belong here? Are we part of the problem? Can we be part of the problem and part of the solution? Have we found a way to be a “better” tourist by spending an extended period of time in one place?

I’m still not sure how to answer those questions.

A few photos of our neighborhood as you ponder the questions…

You know how you wake up and you just know it will be one of those days? Well, I’ve had so few of those these past 58 days . . .

I ranted earlier about the inappropriateness of black beans. Well, we found a Oaxaca Mexican place. I’ve been craving Mexican food, particularly tacos. I ordered a three taco combo which included rice and beans. I made sure the beans were retried bean. So, we got our food, and the tacos were bad. I mean real bad. And to make it worse, the refried beans were made with black beans. Nooooo!

I should have known! The Oaxaca Taqueria website has a “design” page. And let me quote – “an electric bohemian vibe created by the self-styled “celebrity chef without celebrity” Alan Harding. Credited with inventing the neighborhood Brooklyn bistro that has been so central to the hipster gestalt.” Further “he has created . . . and built a found-it-on-a-street-corner look with reclaimed furniture . . “ (bold added). Let me tell you, reclaimed doesn’t have to be uncomfortable. This is!! Hell, just own cheap and don’t claim some kind of style points as your reasoning.

I’ve given up on finding decent Mexican Food. and the hipsters? Hmmm.

My Dad died on May 19, 2019. I was fortunate, I was able to sit with my Dad for the last few days. He was mostly not conscious, AND I believe he heard everything I said to him. Like many of my generation and my Dad’s, we had a complicated relationship. AND viewed through the Love or Like question above, it was a paradox. You see, for most of my life, my Dad and I really didn’t much like each other. Sure, there were moments, particularly when I was younger, where we liked each other plenty. But, as I evolved from adolescences to adulthood, those moments became quite rare.

Like is a pretty simple proposition. I like hamburgers more than I like hot dogs. I like Mondays more than I like Fridays. I like Mary Ann more than I like Ginger (Gilligan’s Island ALERT!). You see, if presented with the less liked choice, I’d simply pivot and be just fine.

One of the many distinguishing features between good parents and less good parents lies within the like – love equation. To me, childrens’ job is to test their parents (I was world class!) And, often these tests can be subtle. But, make no mistake, they are to be found everywhere. Even JDT (in all her conflict avoiding glory) tells stories of testing her Dad (boy do I miss Tom!). Maybe she’ll share those stories with you sometime, they are priceless. I believe Tom’s words to a young Joyce were something like, I don’t care if you like me, I only care if you respect me. I believe, if Tom were alive today, he and I would agree that love and respect are interchangeable in this context. I learned many things from my relationship with Tom. This was chief among them and one I customized for my own use with Niels and Blair. My version? “I may not always like you, I will always love you!!”

Make no mistake, I know where I fall on the question posed above.

I love you Dad, ALWAYS will!!

It was a busy week. Lots of walks. Lots of delicious meals. Lots of photos. And “the best”, you ask? Well, the best is that Blair Thomas was here to enjoy it with us!

Today as we walked down the street to “the best” bakery with “the best” croissants (I challenge Paris to make them better), I said that when people ask Blair what she did on her trip she will have to answer: “I took the subway, I walked the neighborhoods, I ate the food”. That’s pretty much what we did…all day every day. She said she had a great time. I know that Glen and I enjoyed sharing “our home” with her.

And with all good things that must come to an end…after a bit of a tearful goodbye (me, not her) as I watched her get into her Uber headed for JFK, Glen, Dug, and I headed back into our home-away-from-home and hit the couch. We are tired! Good thing there’s so much sports on tv today. (Yes, a bit of snark on my part.)

I’ll let the photos tell the story…

PS Happy Daughter Day!

I’ve always had a love/hate relationship with summer. Mostly love. The hate comes in to play when I think of the its predictable ending. Sheesh. That’s a glass half empty.

One time I counted up the number of summers I had spent anxiously awaiting the start of the school year after it had ended in June. You know I’ve had a long history of the school year/summer vacation pattern – Kindergarten through college (1963-1983), my own kids’ school years (1995-2010), ending with my 36 year career in schools (1983-2019). That’s 56 years of summer vacations. Every year, as school came to a close and with the anticipation of summer in front of me, it always felt that summer would last forever – I’d eternally lounge by the pool, vacation in tropical or mountainous locations, read books, bbq chicken and corn on the cob, and complete all the house projects I’d put off all school year long. There was such a sense of hope and renewal as the school year came to a close.

You can already tell how this story is going to end. Yes, as a family we vacationed, we played in the community pool, we might even have read some books and completed a few household projects, but as June became July and July became August (and they kept starting school earlier and earlier in August)…I always started to feel an emotion that I wasn’t used to and eventually came to understand was depression. At the root of that feeling was the awareness that I did not want our lazy days of summer to end. I didn’t want to end my months of being a “stay-at-home” mom. I hadn’t finished the projects. I dreaded the return of the hectic pace of school and work. I HATED having less time to just be with my kids. I NEEDED MORE TIME!!! (For my year-round working friends – I know how annoying that must sound.) I eventually figured out that if I just watched a REALLY sad movie and cried…then I could move on and allow the inevitable anticipation and excitement of the upcoming “new” year to start seeping into my bones.

As an aside, the feeling of anticipation comes from one of the odd benefits of working in schools. I think very few careers offer a “do over” EVERY year. You get to learn from your mistakes. You get a start over and be better…every year! Thus EVERY YEAR, there is a unique new excitement for the opportunity to “get it right” – if there is such a thing as getting it right. So predictably, as we approached August, the planning and preparations for the new year intensified, school shopping began, the pool became “boring”, and the excitement for the new year returned.

Since retirement (2019), I have a new relationship with summer. As Glen says – “Retirement is six Saturdays and a Sunday”. You could also say “Twelve Julys”. In August of my first year of retirement, I had a real sense of loss without the anticipation and excitement of the upcoming school year. I had those famous “teacher first day of school dreams/nightmares” . I dreamed that I was unprepared, not good enough, late, lost, wearing inappropriate clothing, etc. (Freud would have a hay day with “teacher” dreams.) I longed to be back with colleagues and see the happy and nervous smiles of students...for about a minute! Then I relaxed back into the slow pace of summer and actually enjoyed all of August!

So here we are in Brooklyn during my third retirement summer with all those “Saturdays” and “Julys”. Yesterday was the first day of fall and I found myself thinking about school knowing that my friends have been back at work for almost two months – just a little less time than I’ve been here. Summer ended and I hardly noticed. No depression. No sense of loss of freedom. And I didn’t miss the excitement of preparing for a new year like I did the first two retirement summers.

I can really feel the changing season here in Brooklyn. There’s been a definite shift in the wind and in my life.

I could just as easily titled this blog post “reflection”, but then maybe you wouldn’t read further. Cuz we all know the issues with my self reflection – self absorption. Right?!?

1976 was a big year for many reasons. It was our country’s 200th anniversary. That was just a bit complicated by the end of the Vietnam War being less than five years previous. Plus it being the decade after the 60s (in my opinion the most impactful decade certainly of my lifetime). I mostly grew up in very rural Northern California. Very rural translates directly into conservative. Huh? How did I turn out this mostly liberal (at least socially) person from that? I have come to believe it has to with my exposure to Oakland. My Dad (Bill) was born and raised there. AND he was as conservative as they come. His Mother and Father (Edna and Lacy) lived in Lower Diamond District, East Oakland. And they lived there from 1932 until 1986. And WOW did they witness dramatic change. I believe it is why Dad became his conservative self. If you want to read about an interesting city, read about Oakland and the change it has experienced in the last 100 years. Pretty amazing, and complicated.

I like to say I inherited my intelligence mostly from my Grandma (Edna) and my work ethic from my Papa (my Mom’s Dad – Niels Nielsen – you know what I think of him. I named my oldest and only son after him as I hoped some of him would get from him, to my Mom, through me and land into my Niels three generations down. I know it has!!). I also got my love of baseball (especially the A’s) and the magic of the combination of baseball and numbers we call statistics from Grandma. It just so happens Edna graduated from college (Colorado College) with a degree in mathematics. I am convinced, were she born in a different time (perhaps a century later) she would have been a woman of accomplishment in some field of applied mathematics. It is what she loved.

I spent a great deal of time with my Grandma in Oakland, particularly in the 60s. I love my Grandma dearly and am grateful for everything she contributed to me and what I have become. AND the truth is my Grandma was a raging racist. So, living in Oakland was complicated for her. And made a huge impression on me. The Giants moved to SF in the late 50s. And Willie Mays (still the single best baseball player I have ever seen in person, just a bit better than Ricky Henderson – #2 on my list, Reggie Jackson in 1969 (what a year) is #3) came to SF at 27 at the height of his powers. He became my first baseball hero. And while I was at Grandma’s at 5 or 6 (1963 or 1964), I told her he was my hero. Well, that just wasn’t right by my Grandma. She dropped a few N bombs using a tone I had never heard before. It has left an impression nearly 60 years later.

Oakland, in the 60s, was the home of the Blank Panthers. I never reacted negatively to their cause. I never felt threatened. I always saw it as a fight for social justice. I admired Bobby Seale and Huey Newton. They were a part of the Great Migration that has contributed so thoroughly to what Oakland is and will always be.

Oakland will always be the home of the Raiders. It is so thoroughly imbedded in their soul.

1976 was also the year that I graduated from high school. It was the first presidential election I was able to vote (by the way I did not vote for a winner until 1992). I was 18 and all that represents!

On December 21 1969 my Dad took Steve (oldest brother), Mike (middle brother) and I to the Raider – Houston Oiler playoff game (if you want a kick, YouTube the game). It was a rainy, some would think miserable, day AND the Raiders won 56-7. I WAS hooked. Even at my apathetic worst, I am at my core a Raider fan. Can’t help myself, I’ve tried!

Steve was living in Berkeley in 1976 attending Cal carrying on my Dad’s legacy as a Bear. I was floating after graduating from high school mostly not attending classes at Sierra College. Smoking way too much weed! So, I was visiting Steve in Berkeley and on Saturday December 18, 1976 the Raider’s had snuck by the New England Patriots (google that game you youngsters, it is the precursor to the sack catastrophe that robbed a later Raider team). On Sunday the Steelers punished the Colts. So, the Raiders were hosting the Steelers. This would be one of the last Raider – Steeler classics from the early to mid 1970s. So, I said to Steve, I wonder if we could get tickets? They were going “on-sale” on Monday. In those days, the Raiders executive offices were across the Nimitz (old HWY 17, now 880). The “doors opened at 8:00 AM. Maximum 2 tickets per person, cash only. So, Steve and I proceeded to their offices and got there at 7:00. AND the line was HUGE! This wouldn’t do for Steve. You see, he knew we would never get tickets. AND being the experienced concert goer that he was, he had a trick. You see, we got in line. Steve then said I’m going to “go up”. Come find me in 5 minutes. So, we did this 6 or 7 times and by the time the doors opened promptly at 8:00, we were in the first 100 in line. I’m not proud of this on one level, but I also know were it not for this I wouldn’t have one of my top three sporting event experiences of my life (others include game 20 of the A’s 20 game winning streak, that play by Derek Jeter versus the A’s (slide, Jeremy, slide!!, etc.)).

Steve and I had 4 tickets. So, were took brother Mike and family friend Brad Walker. AND what a game we got to see. Raiders 24 – Steelers 7. A DOMINATION!! We sat in the end zone where Pete Banaszak scored the sealing touchdown. We were no more than 20 rows up from the end zone. So, we were part of a huge mass of people that rushed the field. The game ended with a Lynn Swan reception. And as he went off the field I grabbed the ball from him. An official took the ball from me. I sure wish I had that ball. It is the one and only time I have ever rushed a field. AND I likely will never again. Seems fitting to me as it was the game before the Raiders 1st Super Bowl victory.

So, you ask, why today? Well, the Raiders played the Steelers today. AND all of the wonderful memories and more came flooding back. As I have said before, I have lived a long life full of many blessings.

AND I CAN’T WAIT FOR THE NEXT EXPERIENCE OF MY LIFETIME.

Life. There’s an ebb and flow. People come and people go. We all move through our days and years in the best way that we know how. We reflect on our choices and we plan for our futures.

This week I have been thinking about people who have not been present in my recent daily life (ummm…40 years not recent) – people who had prevalent roles in my life at different times. What happens? Why do we drift apart? That’s a rhetorical question because there are a million “could be” answers.

For 30 years, we have lived one hour away from my aunt and cousins. I think that we have gotten together three or four times (weddings don’t count because they’re too busy for visiting) – my grandmother’s 90th birthday, my aunt’s 90th birthday, a dinner at our “new” house in the early ’90s and dinner at my cousin’s house this last July. We’ve all been busy for 30 years – kids, school, sports, work, travels, house projects….etc. Life. Ebb and flow.

A couple months ago I reconnected with my cousin, Randy over a situation we were working on for our respective moms. He mentioned that he and his brothers try to have a family dinner every couple months. I mentioned I’d love to join them and lo and behold (a phrase that makes me fondly think of my aunt as I remember hearing it for the first time from her when I was 10 years old), a couple weeks later he invited us to dinner! What a time we had! We shared stories and memories, we asked questions, we laughed and I don’t think anyone cried! My aunt talked about going out with sailors when she was a teenager and seeing Benny Goodman and the likes. It was wonderful to hear her reminisce. It was a wonderful evening.

As Glen and I shared our upcoming plans for Brooklyn, we discovered that both of Randy’s daughters live in Manhattan and he and Alison would be traveling there this fall. We look forward to seeing them in October. (We met their “girls”in August because we brought some household items to them that we had trekked across the country and needed to deliver them.) We also learned that Fremont and Stephanie would be in NYC in September. So guess what? We spent most of the day with Free and Stephanie yesterday.

Here’s the thing, in 1978, my cousins Fremont and Dan and his then girlfriend, now wife, Mary-Lynne spent 5 months in a tiny little car traveling throughout western Europe for FIVE months. You can imagine how close we became under those circumstances. We came home promising to stick together and then…Life. The the ebb and the flow.

I guess all of this to say…I loved hanging out with Fremont yesterday. Being with him brought back such a flood of memories! (Glen had to listen to them all day long.) It was great to get to know Stephanie and hear about their “kids”. And now I can’t wait to see Randy and Alison in a few weeks.

So ebb and flow. Sure. But reconnecting WHENEVER AND WHEREVER you can do it…so worth it! And how lucky am I to be here in Brooklyn making connections with my California cousins?!

PS The other person on my mind was my college roommate. A mutual friend asked me about her and so now…guess who I’m going to be looking up?

Who knew? Mosquitos are such a thing here. City mosquitos? Outdoor bars have mosquito repellant available. I find myself not spending as much time on the stoop in the early evening because they love me. But I will win. No little bzzzz is going to keep me from doing what I love.