Okay. Those were a couple heavy posts. Have I mentioned how much I/we love it here? GAT loves it so much he took a red eye to get back here sooner! Or maybe it’s because he missed Dug and me!

Yesterday I took the subway over to the East River, south of the Brooklyn Bridge. There is a WONDERFUL park/walkway along the river that extends for more than a mile. It wanders through park-like nature areas and out onto piers and back along the edge of the city. The Manhattan skyline is always in view. There are soccer fields full of kids and adults playing with joy, fishing areas, yachts in the marina, multiple bridges crossing the river, the Statue of Liberty, and Governor’s Island. At the north end is DUMBO (I always forget what it stands for) where there is a carousel and a “food court” a la Chelsea Market or the Ferry Building in San Francisco. All along the pathways are plenty of seating options to sit and enjoy the scenery and some great people watching. Note the wedding photography going on! And though I didn’t have a ticket, the Brooklyn Nets were practicing at an outdoor facility and the public is invited to watch – if you knew about it and had a ticket. 😦

While the weather has definitely turned and it was a gray and chilly day (though I still was wore shorts), it was a beautiful way to spend a few hours. Enjoy.

I’ve attempted to write this blog post three times. And frankly, it’s devolved into a post about me. While I normally slog past that occurrence with debatable success. I really want this post to be about others; three wonderful others.

JDT (’82) and I (’83) are graduates of Chico State. For many MANY reasons that there is not enough blog space to accommodate, JDT and I care very deeply about Chico State. Simply put it is a major cog in the wheel of two well lived lives. AND while it may not have created the essence of JDT’s “inner conflict” post, it absolutely nurtured and enabled its development.

The picture above was taken this past Thursday in Chico. To my left is Chico State College of Business (COB) Dean Terence Lau. I was part of the hiring team that brought Terence to campus some three years ago. I’ve had the extreme pleasure of getting to know Terence and his family. Terence is leading great change at Chico State COB and is destined to do great things, and will only be limited by his aspirations. AND I don’t believe that will limit him in any way. The other two individuals are the very first Thomas Family Fellows. These were awarded during the pandemic, so this was our first chance to meet. To my immediate right is Dr. Hyunjung Kim. To the far left is Dr. Kirk “Damon” Aiken. We had a lovely lunch. The COB saying is “Company Worth Keeping”. INDEED!!

I’ve intentionally kept this post brief. If you are interested in it in any way, or have any questions, you know how to reach me.

Remember that law class story? Remember the discussion about the point of laws? I had a run in with the law today and I’m still…angry.

We feel VERY COVID safe here. There are rules and they are largely followed. We mask indoors. We show proof of vaccination to eat or drink indoors. We keep distance in lines. We wash our hands frequently. Nothing difficult. Just common sense. Just common courtesy and respect.

We travel on the subway daily, sometimes multiple times in a day. 98+% of the riders wear masks. True, the quarters are close and some trains are crowded, but people are careful and respectful of others.

Everyone except one group. The NYPD. I can’t tell you how many officers don’t wear a mask in the subway system. The percentage is high. Every time I have walked past an officer without a mask I have held my tongue. Why? Power? Fear? MYOB? Not wanting to be a “Karen”? It is so annoying and UNJUST.

Cue up my last post – the law class where the professor tossed out a student no one said anything. He then asked the students if he had committed an injustice. And – What do laws mean if we don’t practice them? Why had the students remained silent when they saw injustice?

As I was seated waiting for my train today, I watched two cops standing on the platform. One on his phone, the other just standing. Neither had a mask. I struck up a conversation with the older Black woman who was seated next to me. She had noticed it, too. We questioned whether we misunderstood the laws/rules about mask-wearing. I googled it. Nope. Masks are required. There are signs all over the subway system reminding everyone to wear a mask. The loudspeaker announcement came on reminding everyone to wear their mask. I told my seatmate that I was thinking of going over to them to ask about their masks. She said she was thinking the same thing. I said probably better me than her. She said, yes, sadly, yes. I couldn’t be silent. I went to the officers and asked why they weren’t wearing masks. One said he was on his phone. The other said he was drinking coffee. I asked if they’d heard the loudspeaker. Yes. I asked again. Why aren’t you wearing masks? The phone cop said he’d put his on. The coffee drinker just looked at me. I asked if he would put his mask on when he was done. He just looked at me. I noticed a family with small children on the other side of the cops. I told them that they were endangering those children. They just looked at me. I was angry and didn’t trust my next words. I wanted to take their picture with their badge numbers so I could report them. I walked away. My seatmate thanked me. She reminded me that the cops could write a $50 ticket for any passenger not wearing a mask. I didn’t know that. The train came, we said good-bye and boarded. 100% of the passengers had masks on.

Indeed, what is a law if it is not practiced – especially by those who are supposed to enforce it?

I’m hoping that speaking up when I see injustice is like a muscle memory. It will get easier and more automatic.

Today I spoke up. But I wasn’t brave enough to take their picture. Progress.

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.