planetcesar

Of Crusts and Crying; Little Angels showered in love.

2007-03-06T09:38:00.000-08:00

Photo: Little 5 year old Oliver and 3 year old Sadie enjoy looking at a ladybug outside of The Nelson Gallery's expansive lawn....Kansas City, Missouri

I should be so lucky to be faced now with the insignificant pain of writers block when so many in my family are enduring true pain, true loss and true sorrow.

Winds of change have swept into my family. Sometimes they blow to topple and knock down for a bit and other times…..other times those winds…sweep away.

There are times on my voyage that remind me of the day of the passing of my grandmother. I was 8 I believe and a phone call sounded from inside the house (I was playing outside with my dog Blacky)…a sound I normally never hear. I mean I’m outside, the phone inside.

But in this day I heard it. Like a siren. At the very same moment, Blacky looked at me, solemnly and he had calmed down to the point of near “sleepy-dog-ness”. This was a Labrador, a wild one at that. Blacky was never sleepy.

So strange was his demeanor…that I sat down on the very edge of my “terraza” and began to pet him. Normally this would throw Blacky into spasms of delight. Not this day.

On this day he was preparing to tell me something.

I heard my mother say “Ayyy, la pobre!” And I looked into Blacky’s eyes and they were saying; “it will be OK” (not easy mind you, but OK.

My Grandma passed away. It would be the first time I would see my father cry. Mommies cry, and I had seen my mommy cry lots of times. But loss is loss and fathers and sons are not exempt from its power.

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Last week as I crossed the last few miles of Missouri and headed to the Kansas Border….strong winds were blowing east. I was walking west.

So strong were they that for five days my face had not seen the sun. Covered up I was minus my glasses peering out, as the rest of my body built up sweat from no less than 12 layers of clothing head to toe (4 layers on legs, 4 around my upper body, two on my head and face and even two pairs of gloves).

With the windchill, the temperature read 20 degrees on one particular day. On that day gusts were being clocked at 40 miles and hour. Mostly I was walking against a steady wind at 30!

My plan was to do 7 days of this. But on the 5th day, the spirit of the crossing was diminishing. The winds were not slowing down. I had had a lovely, epic, challenging time…but it was time to stop.

I listen to inner voices when to stop and when to start. Consequently I start and stop a lot. On this day, Saturday, there was something that was telling me, it was time to break.

As the sun set, the family that was to pluck me from out on the cold that day… called to tell me to turn around. I did. And at that moment, round 5 something, the moon was in eclipse. A sight that could be seen the world over.

An event, like my Blacky settling down, like the winds that inexplicably blew for 5 days straight….that rarely takes place!

Just one hour later, the call would come from Miami….a call that would stop time,…it was my sister…telling me of another event taking place that rarely happens, is never hoped upon and is without understanding.

Our cousin….three year old Alyssa… was in a coma.

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In the middle of my five day crossing into the state of Kansas I had been connected thru a friend to a family I had never met that would take me in and shuttle me around on two of the windiest days.

They have two precious kids; one a vivacious 5 year old boy named Oliver and a remarkably pudgy-cute-as-can-be 3 year old girl named Sadie.

Little Sadie has this infectious laugh that rolls for minutes. Until it blows up into a massive guffaw..that defies the little lungs it is emanating from.

She wore two high pig tails and a mess of colorful clothing, striped leggings and plastic beads and toted around a small green “blankie” as well as a doll named La-Fonda!

As word came in about the pain and panic setting in at Miami Children’s hospital…my mind went blank until I arrived at their door and Sadie was there transfixed to a cartoon…she turned and smiled.

It was all I could do to keep my composure.

The next day was a total anomaly. Sunny, warm. I even had the chance to eat outside on the porch. One layer. No wind. A strange peace had descended.

I ate my grilled cheese sandwich across from Sadie who was dipping hers in her tomato soup…mimicking her brother Oliver. Only Sadie had trimmed triangles without the crust and Oliver had his in long rectangles.

A few minutes earlier, I saw Sadie quizzically eye my sandwich which still had the side crust intact. As if to say; “I thought all sandwiches were neatly trimmed like mine!”

Small children can simultaneously be the greatest source of happiness and sadness.

Their happiness and victory in anything they do brings us the ultimate in filling our “joy” cup and overflowing our emotions to the point of feeling like we are walking on air.

Their sadness (over anything…blankies included) and defeat in anything they do, has us promising to do anything it takes to bring back that smile.

In either case, the parents have an active roll in their learning. They (both Alyssa and Sadie) could experience sadness and happiness because they know the extremes of both. To know sadness and loss you must know happiness, to know happiness and victory you must know sadness.

As you can imagine most three year olds cry almost violently when they cant get what they want. I say most because some, sadly don’t get that love. And that is indeed more horrific than anything that could ever be inflicted upon an innocent child.

And there in lies the only truth that matters.

Alyssa and Sadie are and will always be fortunate and in loving hands because we know that they experienced that unequivocal and unconditional love and are still very much in a world of innocence and clouds.

One is puzzled about a triangled grilled cheese sandwich that still hasn’t been relieved of its side-crusts, the other one now looks down from the heavens at a father and mother and wonder why they cry.

From their standpoints….they cannot understand a reality with crusts and crying. What they don’t know or cant understand is that a world without crust and crying can only be protected, delivered and prepared by loving parents.

Alyssa was loved without a shadow of a doubt. She knew only happiness and love and knew her two loving parents.

Many of us, as hard as it may seem to some….aren’t as fortunate or as with life, they are exposed to things even parents cant protect us from.

With love (my dear little cousin)…Cesar Alex

I have asked a friend who is the president of The Native Plant Society to procure a rare little slow growing, but strong little tree with its nickname “The Tree of Life”. It is a native of south florida and can be found in the Caribbean. It is called Lignumvitae. It is on the threatened and endangered list and so each time it is planted is a small victory and I think a fitting little memorial that when the time is right we can plant somewhere in Alyssa’s honor.

Cesar Becerra, Columbia, Missouri

REvisiting Europe allows me a REvisit to family bonds...Modern Day Miami Griswalds visit Rome and Madrid

2007-01-01T11:43:00.000-08:00

It was touch and go wether we even were going to make it. A massive 5 hour flight delay - three of which had us sitting on a stuffy plane - had us at Miami International Airport when we should have been getting ready to touch down on the Iberia Penninsula for our first flight to Spain. A connecting flight that was now extinct had further problems since the computer failed to print out an extra ticket for my father who shares my same name...only on this day the computer wanted only to print me a ticket.

I will spare you all the boring details but 23 hours later from the moment i left my parents home in Miami, we finally touched down in Rome, Italy and were reunited with my brother Carlos who had been travelling about 3 and a half weeks by that time.

A half hour later we were at the Starwood Hotel Michealangelo and after plopping our luggage down we went for a brief 10 minute walk that took us in the middle of St Peters Square - though the square is in fact round and bordered by massive columns the size of rocket ships....in short it was impressive and a dream come true for us all....particularly for my brother who upon watching the Pope speak last year on his annual midnight mass (la misa del gallo) uttered a challenge and a call to arms; ¨next year we should all be in Rome at this service and spend Christmas with the Pope!¨

And so it was that brother ¨Chuck¨(carlos is his real name but we all have nicknames for each other) awaited us with an impromtu but real live Christmas tree (branch sticking out of a hotel wastebasket) with small and colorful chocolates as the decorations.

Thus started our European vacation which really ended up being a lovefest of heartfelt realizations that no one knows you better, nor do you share more intimacies than that of with your family.

And speaking of family and travel traditions, we love to take photos, so i've put nearly 300 of them here on my photo site www.flickr.com/photos/planetcesar/sets/72157594454958371/

But before i get to all the ¨deep¨realizations and observations let me recap a bit about my impressions about Rome and Madrid. And before i do, let me add that i could go on ages about both these countries but i´m actually on overload and need to process it better by re entering the US and reacting to the contrast of how different life is there. I´m now so used to the following that the old life seems a bit of a dream;

I´ll start with Rome and Italy in general. First of all, no matter what my mom tells me that the languages are different, its pretty clear to me that maybe 60 percent of the words in italian are decipherable if you havea good command of spanish...which i have an alright command over.

So i did not feel that out of it. None the less this does not mean that communications were always clear... particularly at restaurants where at times massive amounts of food were brought out...for example when we ordered an appetizer and several paninni sandwiches for the family members and told the waiter "we´d share". On one ocassion it turned out that everybody got a personal portion as a meal and on another we each got a smorgasbord of pizza in ever concievable variety!

Normally this is not a problem but we ended up on a few ocassions cancelling some of our main courses cuz there was just too much food already on the table....plus and this is important....things are quite expensive in Rome.

This is of course an understatement. THINGS ARE VERY EXPENSIVE IN ROME!

Though i treated the family to a few meals the majority of the trip was a gift from my parents to us and i suspect to themselves since it really brought them great joy to see us all together. So we had to watch it. How expensive could a meal be...well lets start you off with the tale of ¨The Coca Light¨

A ¨Coca Light¨is basically like a diet coke....wait no...IT IS A DIET COKE, only the diet coke at most in the states is like what a buck, buck and change....but over here in Rome i made the mistake of ordering what amounted to be the MOST EXPENSIVE DIET COKE on the planet. Are you ready....how but 9 bucks! Six and a half Euros ends up basically being 9 bucks! For a diet coke!

Thats worse than the two dollar chips at Mount Vernon outside of Washington DC!

Another observation is that this place is not Hollywood or Disney World. What i'm referring to is that after a few blocks of the inner core of the historic district there generally is a creeping in of new buildings, more modern...hell even glass like office monstrosities. Not here.

For blocks upon blocks and mile upon mile in any one direction....Rome is Rome. Old as hell. Ancient. Authenticly ancient. Which is a blessing. A blessing that i was in awe over since everything i was looking at was at the very youngest 3 or 400 years old. Of course there were plenty of really ancient 1,500 nd 2000 year old structures to boot!

Amazing. I really kept thinking behind all of this was wooden 45 degree angle bracing holding up a false front like on a Hollywood Western movie set. But it was not to be. This place is for real.

Restaurants are notoriously old school, old fashion and helmed by old waiters, waitresses who really could care less about "flair" and the pomp and circumstance that goes along with a Chilis or Applebees-like experience. Also, one bathroom stall generally for the whole place. These are tiny mom and pops. There are very few big chain anythings in Rome or Madrid. Of course there is McDonalds but its not like Western styled restaurants have taken over. Nope. Just slow and methodic mom and pops....with.....

GREAT FOOD! Boy did we eat well. Amazing food. But remember the norm there is to order two plates....since at times they separate the meat from the potatoes or veggies. But carefull...these Euros add up. Even at McDonalds. One American Dollar is like 75 or 80 cent Euro there....not quite the buck....so yu loose out.

Cars are mega tiny. Mega tiny. And gas is somewhere in the vicinity of 11 Euro per liter. And cars park anywhere. On a sidewalk, half on a sidewalk, stuck in a nook or alley way. One car i stood next to looked more like the Clown Car yu see at a circus than a real car....but it was no joke. There is just no room for big SUV like monstrosities....though i saw more regular cars in Madrid than in Rome.

In Madrid, no one sleeps. Well most folks. Our hotel room might have well been right on the street surrounded by rice paper walls! I slept fine, but i'll sleep through anything. However in the morning my sister and mom and dad would recount how loud passerbys were and how one morning my sis was awoken at like 4:30 by party revelers. Of course i was confused; "huh? I didnt hear a thing!"

So take ear plus if yu sleep lightly in Madrid.

And careful with Cherry Bomb finatics. We were there on New Years Eve in Madrid when every now and then they monstrous terrorist sounding bombs would explode (i said explode not "pop") near us. On one ocassion an M-80 (that is a highly illegal quarter stick of dynamite) was set off in an arched hall leading out of the Plaza Mayor....holy cow, i really thought a real bomb had gone off.

Speaking of bombs....Etta, the militant, quasi terrorist group wanting to ceceeed from Spain....set off a bomb in the Madrid airport 3 days before our departure back to the states. Nearly 3 floors of parking lot the sise of half a football field was deleted from existence as well as (just from the shock waves) 3 floors of glass more than 200 feet away were removed (i.e. shattered) from the front of the airport entryway at the very terminal we checked in at making our departure cold enough to stay layered up (gloves even) while checking in our bags in what used to be the "inside" of the airport.

By the way Madrid airport is perhaps the most beautiful airport in the world. Think large blanket like roofing billowing for nearly a mile. Except its all steel and glass and wood. So organic, yet its not....or is it....in nay case it was quite an optical illusion.

So okay, amidst all this architecture, culture, history and expensive food....what i really learned is that my family is a riot. And just when i thought i knew them...well....i get to know them even better....discovering things ironically thousands of miles away where i hadn't been able to on casual visits back home.
Maybe its the dynamic of removing them from the norm....or maybe its European pixie dust but here is what i learned;

Mom; Olga Becerra, code name "Mami" or "Olguita"

Mom, turns into a child when she travels. Doubly so if all her children are with her. It gives her balance and calm. I know this because during the fiasco with the airline hick-up, she and i went to see if we could fix the problem at the main counter. We briefly separated from my dad, sister and brother and after a cell phone call that they had moved gates and were about to board another flight, my mom began to unravel. Close to the point of tears, she nearly fell apart when a gate attendant explained we could not go back in because our tickets did not match the new gate our family was now at.

I calmed her down (funny role reversal of when i was a kid and when mom was the one to settle my pangs) calmly explained to the supervisor and were then let in.

My mom touches my heart like few others do. Dad of course touches it to and on another ocassion;

Dad; Cesar Becerra Sr. ...AKA "Papi" or "Magni" (for the magnificent!)

He was walking and talking to me about what his life would be like if he had never left Cuba. At that instant, his foot slipped off the curb....and in a dash to reclaim his footing his body inverted as he fell on his side. On the way down, for some reason i got a view of his head...hair white and grey and thinnning....it was a dad far removed from the young one i always saw him as. The jet black hair...lots of it.

In the end, like mom, i was there to lift up his spirits (another roll reversal) as well as him. He was down. And though of course he could have very well gotten up himself...i helped him anyway....patted his back for 5 minutes as he stewed about how much this was gonna hurt tomorrow!

Speaking of patting.....here is what i learned from sis;

Sister; Leslie Becerra....nic-name "La Princessa" or "Flaca" (thin)

"Don't do that!"....."Don't pat me, i'm a big girl now!" She sure is and careful to have pitty on my sis.....she does not like that. Guess what? Sister has grown up. I mean i knew that but she is smarter than a whip and proved it on many an ocassion where deft crunching of numbers came in handy such as dollar to Euro conversions were concerned but on another silly level where my brother and i were calculating the cost of something and we generalized way off....to which Leslie provided the exact (to the decimal) amount...."thank you very much!"

Sis is an accountant, and a jet setting one too. When returning to the states she would be boarding yet another plane in less than 2 hours bound for Chicago to begin her work at Price Waterhouse Coopers, one of the top three accounting firms in the world!

Hell she is even a marathon runner that got me into my new passion "my four mile mondays"...see i accompanied sis on a practice run one Sunday in Rome and i was amazed i was not COMPLETELY out of breath. So the next week...on a monday in Madrid, i sealed the habit firm and stated...after the next 40 minute, 4 mile run (jog really); "i'm doing this no matter where i'm at...on mondays!

So sis is on her own and making it in the world, and speaking of making the world his....there is...

Brother; Carlos Becerra....Alias...."Brother Chuck" or "Goyito" (a nic name my mother gave him as a kid, i think it just was a simplification of some baby babble he would say)

Brother Chuck i found at a really good time at his life. I may be biased but at any moment yu find yur self in a major job or even career transition....you are guaranteed to stretch and grow just by the mere fact that something has come to an end (in this case his job as Chief of Staff of a prominent business leader who was a Dade County Public School Board Member) and something innevitably gets born, launched or even re-calibrated.

I think my brother is headed towards re-calibration. But i'm only guessing. I saw a brother who had been released from the grasp of a cruise-controlled life. Not that he was in a job that didnt afford him surprizes or challenges (it did) but i think it had become somewhat predictable....and some of us can only do predictable for only so long.

A hi-light for his search was in hearing him say he "might be looking at anothe city" outside Miami. Which i have to agree can be a wize move for growth and even opportunity but mainly perspective.

My late uncle once told me. "You won't be growing till yu leave Miami and enter and unknown." He was talking about New York, L.A. or anywhere else but the main point was, spread yur wings, fly and see the world, but don't be afraid to temporarily inhabit another reality.

Inhabiting another reality really is what this trip was about. And in doing so one learns of oneself, of their own family of other cultures.

Rome and Madrid's memories are in the past but their current day lessons and insights are seared into my present; and i find....another layer...of a strong and sturdy foundation....has been poured.

Cesar Becerra, Chattanooga, TN

I´ll let you do the math on the food but lets just say you have to watch it.

Aaron and Jerry, my extended brothers/family in Orlando

2006-12-08T08:27:00.000-08:00

Home is most definately a state of mind. I know i know some folks say to me "how can yu sleep at a different place each night?...what about your favorite pillow? etc"

The real truth is that i have been travelling so long that it just doesnt matter. And really i'm not moving each and every day. I have what i call "pockets" of time and particular places that i set up shop, chill, relax, think. South Florida is obviously one; since family, friends and loved ones are there, i can chill out quite a while and not wear out my welcome. Chattanooga at the Bridges home is another. Boston, New Hampshire, Marthas Vineyard, DC even Los Angeles....all places where friends harbor me while i'm at a crossroads to think and act on another step to future plans.

Couchsurfing.com helps out to. In a pinch if i'm staring at a week off and there is little time to get back on trail or my next job is still a week away....i'll zap out some e-mails to hosts that open their home to travellers or nomads like myself and i swoop in, make new friends, cook, take in a new city.

One of my favorite Oasis' would definately have to be The Palm Lakefront Resort and Hostel (see www.orlandohostels.com or call 407-396-1759 or e-mail them at palmlakefront@yahoo.com) owned and opperated by a team of brothers that have come to be a part of my extended family.

Its been so long taht i cant really remember exactly when i met Aaron and Jerry who run in my opinion the most beautiful, relaxing and friendly (not too mention popular) Hostel in the world (that last opinion is shared by many internationals who have told me the same even in far off places). Located in Kissimmee, FL, just a few miles near Disney World and other Orlando attractions...the "Orlando Hostel" (as its most commonly referred to as)...is one of the MUST STOP AT spots when European backpackers come to "tour the states".

Jerry and Aaron might reside in Orange County, but their reputation and love is spread throughout the world as traveller upon traveller goes home to the far corners of the world and remember to write thank you post cards that get posted on the lobby wall. How many times do yu remember itching to write back to the manager at the local Motel 6? This is no ordinary place....it trully has a quality reminiscent of Leo Decaprio's tight knit clan in his paradise pad called "The Beach"....of course in the telling of this story there is no guns, marijuana farmers and shark bites! But the photo zapped to him at a anonymous internet cafe at the end of the film (that subsquently fills him with longing and nostalgia) is not too far removed from my feelings for the place.

Now typically when yu speak of lodging for tourists or travellers....the last thing yu think about is nature or natural surroundings. But in this case i will begin my description far from its comfy private rooms and clean bunk styled hostel accomodations and work my way back from a few dozen feet from Jerry and Aaron's helm at the front desk where at times they seem staple gunned to the place as piles and piles of hungry, tired, curious, antsy and happy journey-folk migrate to as they get ready to "attack the (theme) parks" or rest up from a busy day doing so.

To begin with, the old motel - turned hostel - is situated on the banks of a large Orlando lake called Lake Cecile, with an old dock that leads out 40 feet into the water...providing two levels of remoteness and detachment from the real-time carnival taht is Orlando's increasing mecca of tourist-trap-like atmosphere. On this very dock one can read, think, or dream away as canoes, fishing enthusiasts, moss covered Cypress trees, paddle boats and water skiers whisk by under battleship clouds that are best seen above such a large blue expanse.

Just steps away from the dock lies an old styled motel pool graciously and generously situated at the end of the 5 acre site half of it greened by a wide expanse of green lawn that anywhere else would have been gobbled up by more development, expansion etc....I say old-styled simply because it resembles more a private home pool than that of a resort hotel pool. During the day you can find folks (mainly pasty white European students) lounging around without a care in the world....taking in one of Orlando's forgotten and taken-for-granted gifts; its sunny, warm, and glorious weather.

On those ocassions where i find myself with a block of a few days either exiting or entering Florida on my way down to Miami....i will drop by and stay just to lounge by that pool, that is as i said next to that expansive lake. Mind you, my parents have a pool....so its not the pool itself...its the setting...oh and one more thing.....i have to admit....the foreign setting of listening to languages around the pool i CANNOT decipher....which for me is part of the kick.

Working slowly my way again towards Aaron and Jerry's roost at the front desk....our next stop is the fountain located amist quiet benches and shrubery that although not to the level of The Pallace of Versailles...is for this setting a break....or last stand buffer zone before you leave that quiet and pristine paradise before another waft of happiness hits the lucky traveller as next you will probably find a bevy of guests cooking at one of three bar-B-Ques and park-like pick-nic tables adjacent to a lively game of Volley Ball which always seems to be the thing to do while the steaks/burgers/hotdogs are a cookin!

Though not on tap, beer flows freely thanks to the hostel's close proximity to a neighborhood supermarket called "publix" right across the street. Of course you need to be 21 to purchase and drink alchohol in the states. In any case, in all the visits i've been there i have noticed NONE of the shenanigans that generally follow American tourists...as the Europeans take to alchohol earlier in their lives and "drinks" constitute more of a light social enjoyment than than that of a tabooed reach in asserting age, independence or rebellion.

Next up on our tour is the screened in sun porch! I'm telling you, this place is amazing....i havent even gotten to the main hostel yet.....which is the point here at Orlando. Other hostels act more as a place to set up camp, hold your gear, while yu see a city. At Aaron and Jerry's, the hostel in a sense IS the ACTUAL spot you come away talking about. I have been at other hostels, where i have heard the common refrain; "You going to Orlando...the hostel there is the best!" Instead of "dont miss Disney World!" On the sun porch, larger groups use this area to set up meetings, mini conferences or if there is a lone Maestro in the bunch....chill by the piano and enjoy some tunes as the palm trees, Australian/and Caribbean Pines and cypress trees surrounding the property lull back and forth in the gentle breeze coming off the lake.

Ok, now....finally indoors....you can find yourself in the main "common" room or as i call it "the Map Room" since on one rather large wall there exists a mural of the worlds continents and countries where some travellers have written small messages near where they originate from on the planet! I have my name down near Miami (since Miami was pretty full). So even furthering my sense of place or home is the fact that the very walls here bear my name!

Inside this room you'll find two couches, coffee table, the daily newspaper, chairs and tables for eating, chatting, playing cards, opening oversize bus maps as the hostel is right on the line for a direct dollar fifty bus ride to Disney World!

Next to this room is the kitchen. The massive kitchen, complete with two ranges, ovens, small and almost walk in refrigerator. Actually the one near the sink is one of them convenience store varieties where thanks to the glass doors yu can see everything inside. Named and unamed (remember to put yur name on yur food or it will get pilferred) bags of goodies from cheeze to steaks can be found in here ready to fill a backpackers belly up by the end of a long day at the parks. This place gets hopppin round 6pm. I have been known as others have as well after pitching in a few bucks....to cook my great Cuban Meal for at least 12 hungry new friends. And i might add, new friends from all over the world!

On one ocassion, during the height of Hurricane season a few years back (Hurricane Jeanne to be precise) i was cookinvg late into the night as all the guests huddled inside the common room as the storm passed over and i recall counting guests from no less than 14 places on the Globe. On that very night in my presence were folks from Uganda, South Africa, Italy, Spain, S. Korea, Germany, England, Ireland, Denmark and the list went on.....basically a mini United Nations all at yur fingertips. talk about a shrinking planet. the internet is one thing but to have everybody in front of yu - flesh and blood - welll.... there is just no substitute for that!

And finally we reach the final room. That which brings me both Joy and a bit of sadness....is that of the front desk. The very place where Aaron and Jerry find themselves day in day out. I say sadness because although it is not backbreaking work (though they might disagree) they have to "man the fort" so to speak just about every hour of the day. And if yu know how needy travellers can be, well then yu know that at times i'm sure the allure of the job can wear thin. Though i also see great happiness and a bit of gloating for having and helming such a cool job....at their very fingertips (or desk) the world comes to them.

They might have come to see the mouse, but first they see the brothers at palm lakefront for guidance, a room, bunk, directions, deals and a friendly smile.

I have waited patiently on many ocassions overhearing Aaron welcome folks, ask questions, share anecdotes about others of their nationality that might have stayed there a few days, weeks or in the rare ocassion of an odd country....months before. No longer does the weary traveller stress from shuttles or confusing buses from airports, delayed Amtrak or Greyhound journeys or the damned HEAT!

But they soon have their things in a room, their eyes on the lake, feet in the pool and the tough decision of going to the parks now or perhaps leaving that for .....another day!

Cuba on my mind....in my body....part of my soul.

2006-08-02T08:08:00.000-07:00

So removed am i at times from the rest of the world that quite frankly i must hold the dubious distinction of having been the last person on earth to know that Castro is dead, almost dead...at least has given up power (temporarily/for good?).

I got an e-mail from my ex-wife. How's that for the island still having an impact on my life. (still raw from the divorce, i hadn't heard from her in a while, i respected her need to no not contact me, and it had been weeks, then thanks to Castro, an e-mail from my ex!). So far i'm liking the impact his mishap has spawned. I'm not one for burning bridges so i'm also probably one of the few non-parent divorcees that still wants a friendship with their ex. Come to think of it the issue with Cuba is not so far removed from bitter or sweet divorces.

Mind you this is an island i have never visited....lest yu count in my mind. "Hope your going to write about this?" and that's all my ex-wife said...the subject line said "Castro"....so even then i had to wonder; "is he dead....no way!" Either way...she wrote me! Yay. Thanks Dr. C.

My fingers pecked furiously onto google. I downloaded an NBC news clip with Matt Lauer waxing on about an operaton and ceding power. Wow. This is it....but what is "it".

For years i grew up in a parallel universe of hotdogs by day and rice and beans at night. Cuba was always on the back-burner, especially at parties. While us kids were galavanting in the yard the "adults" would yap on about politics (Cuban politics of course) and they could go on till 1 or 2 in the morning....easily.

Time and time again; "Well he doesnt have long to go! He's getting old you know. He cant live forever!" That was when i was 10. At twenty it was the same broken record. 30? Ditto.

There are two things i believe you need to know concerning the whole Castro thing; One. Nothing lasts forever and Two; There is always good that comes from bad.

The first one is simple. It was innevitable that he goes, or will go, or might go. Gosh even now, the dude cant just die. Castro never does anything with great finality. There is allways a grey area. A MASSIVE grey area with him.

But on the second front, the one about good from bad. Lets face it, and i'm a radical mind you and certainly this is gonna sound odd to some of my family.....but in a sense Castro's entrance into the cuban history books spawned a movement (literally as many 100 thousands have moved to America to start life anew) that has allowed many (my family included) to live a life of freedom and prosperity that exclipses anything they could have achieved in Cuba.

Now i will get some debate on this since both sets of my family did very well for themselves in Cuba before Castro (beach side homes, maids, businesses strewn all over the island) but in this country they not only have matched that but in many instances have suprpassed it. Monetarily is one thing (there are some members of my family that are quite well off) but i'm focusing on stability and freedom of mind for the future.

Lets face it, Cuba was allways in flux. There was allways some quiver of a fault line in its politics and therefore the ability to sustain any sense of success, hard work, piece of property.....was going to be a risk. You can thank both Spain and America for that. And since we're talking Castro today, let us not forget that one of the main reasons or THE main reason he came to power in the first place was to throw off the shackles or marrionette strings being pulled by both Washington DC and the mafia in Cuba....that lets face it.....were indeed running the place.

Yes Cuba was technically its own sovereign state but when we (the USA) helped (key word here is HELPED, since the revolutionaries in the 1890's were doing quite well on their own in devastating Spanish military rule) kisck Spain out of Cuba and give back the country to the natives or newly minted Cubans......it would be key to know (since you will not find this detail in high school yearbooks) that the American Flag flew over Cuba for 4 years......AND IT ALMOST DIDNT COME DOWN.

From 1898 to 1902, Washington DC, not Havana, debated about what to do with "Cuba Linda" and in the end decided to give it back (actually they were bound by law to thanks to an ammendment pushed thru by Cuban revolutionaries living in exile at the time) but not without first "helping" them draft a constitution (that looked and sounded like ours - no problem there) and "helped" draft their trade/tarrif issues (that benefitted - surprise surprise, U.S. businesses) that eventualy really ended up running the place.

Which is why leader after leader was toppled, sent away, or de-throned......until Castro came along and said.....this is it. "I'm in charge" Good or bad, Castro did things his way. Look the guy is a monster, i have personal accounts of his attrocities, and i believe them. My family's gardener was a political prisoner for 20 years. My cousin who just arrived has told me first hand (fresh - not 40 year old) accounts of the political injustices, lack of possibilities etc. And a dear friend and fellow radical http://www.tcpalm.com/tcp/local_news/article/0,,TCP_16736_4886491,00.html
has also taght me lots about the truth about Cuba.

And the truth is, is that it is complicated. Yes, they have very little there in terms of stuff, food and options. But here we have too many. I think so much so that it very well might be oppressing us as much (al-be-it on the opposite side of the spectrum) as the folks in Cuba (my "hente") are oppressed.

Because of Castro; i am free to be me, free to think the way i want to think, go where i want to go. Because of Castro; my family can build a stable....long range future and not worry about the government taking over their businesses and confiscating items and property they worked hard to earn. Because of Castro; i would not have met amazing friend from Cuba that has opened my eyes about the realo truth about Cuba (for many years.....i had no idea who to believe). Because of Castro; I began my world walk in Key West.....since i told everybody the last place i want to walk as i go around the planet is Cuba....."after Castro dies".

He is and has colored our every or most of our present past and future. No Cuban, Cuban American or Miamian for that matter that can say that Castro hasnt impacted their lives. I believe if you press further and ask if he has impacted their lives for the better or for the worse...most might have to think twice (with the exception of those that have lost loved ones in his jail cells, firing lines, or on rafts) about the answer.

But the answer is always gonna be "well.....its complicated!"

Thats the only answer.

So....will Castro die. Is he dead.

I dont know. But i do know that a building block in the foundation of who i am has a piece of him in there. Cant escape that.

Trail Days hits the BigTime; The good, the bad...the muddy!

2006-05-30T09:59:00.000-07:00

It was supposed to be hotter than the dickens this weekend but nooooo, as Bill, Becky and I approached Damascus for the annual Trail Days convention the sky just disappeared. Any lofty soft orange clouds that were left by day's end was enveloped by a black sheet of cotton so thick it turned dark within 3 minutes time.

And then it came. The rain, the cold front and the nippiest air....came
in to chill our bones as we huffed down Becky's delicious cheese ball and crackers next to the heater that was now on full blast at the Days Inn in Abingdon, VA.

Becky kept fidgeting to Bill about something. Little mini whispers and
prodding told me something was up. And just as i suspected, Becky was
urging him on to assist me to pass out the packets they stuffed the week before. But i said "no". They are too good to me but i could not let them get involved in a night of chaos. Not too mention get soaked to the bone in this chilly rain.

So i bid them farewell and off i went on my midnight ride into Damascus
to pepper the town and its estimated 600 hikers that descend on it each
year....info....on my talk for Trail Days, my new web site and
basically on myself.

Kamikaze marketing i call it. Others call it Gorilla marketing. Either
way, tonight would turn out to be a doozey of a journey much of which was very reminiscent of my Appalachian Trail (AT) hike in 2001.

Weeks before I had prepared a flyer promoting my world walk, AT book,
and website. I scoured the dollar stores for little goodies like candy,
Easter chocolate (hey it was at 50% off) and tea bags. I also had from my last professional organizing job, a crap load of soy chocolate milk packets.

So I had Becky and Bill stuff this all inside 400 zip lock bags so I could hand them out the night before my talk.

On my way over to Damascus that night I was worried that I had gone too
far. Maybe it was too many years back and my recollection was more tents than were really there. My ambitious side gets ahold of me sometimes and I go too far.

As I arrived in town I soon realized I was probably not only well prepared but under prepared. The power of Trail Days – that of the virtual black plague of hikers that descends on the town – has not died. It is alive and well. Just as a moth is attracted to light, hikers, hungry hikers in particular, are attracted to Damascus from parts near and far.

That’s not to say Trail Days hasn’t changed. In fact I’m sure since its inception in 1987 (begun by local resident Charles Trivett who wanted to honor the thru hikers) the changes have been night and day. But I’m more focused on just the last 6 years. My first trail days was 2000. That year, I must admit I saw trail Days thru a long lens and a bit far removed from the ground view of real AT hikers. I stayed at The Appletree Bed and Breakfast, then the ONLY B&B in Damascus….there are now about 4.

The tents were conglomerated that year along the river bank and in between the Baptist church and the Old mill restaurant. That’s all. Maybe 200 tents. The same was said for the following year and the year after, as I kept returning to give talks and see Trail Days grow.

Growth is a double edged sword. Sometimes and it is my opinion on this event a folksy, small town event like Trail days can grow too big for its britches, and so it was when I entered the now “designated” camping area, way outside of the town square. Now I’m sure the town has its good reasoning for moving the campground area so far away from where all the action is, but the original intent of this festival was to celebrate the oncoming rush and visit and invasion if you will of the very hikers that hike the AT.

Sure during the day there are shuttles that send hikers back and forth from the campground, and sure there are beautiful woods that they now can camp at….but they are no longer (with the exception of the hiker hostel known as “The Place”) an army of tents covering every open area of grass all over town. THE VERY ACT THAT GAVE TRAIL DAYS ITS CHARM!

Now, I cant help but see the hikers as second class citizens. Relegated behind a chain fenced in campground whose only entrance is a Gestapo-like check-point Charlie armed with local police presence night and day. Though the town has provided a trolley shuttle during the day. At night the hikers are left isolated and made to walk a long way to get to and from town. HELLO FOLKS, haven’t they already walked enough to get to this point!

I’ve probably gone too far in saying that but it is my fear that slowly over time events that were born of this folksy embryo grow too corporate, too rigid, too much of a town fundraiser (instead of a hiker homage) and loose the great flavor of a spontaneous fluid arrival of a pack of sweaty hikers taking off from Springer Mtn in Georgia.

Its almost like being in Nebraska or The Dry Tortugas at a certain time of year and waiting for the migratory waterfowl. All the birds will not arrive all at once! They seep in and out of one spot. They land where they want to land. They take over any field.

In any case, my evening began round 8:30 and did not end till about midnight as I sloshed and dipped my feet into unknown mud holes, streams and washouts as I trudged thru the night from tent to tent delivering word of my talk and of my life. In each packet contained a business card, flyer and some trail magic (candy, tea, soy milk shake powder – whatever that is). One by one like Santa Clause I visited each tent and each clump of hikers gathered around several campfires that were lit to keep them warm and dry.

It is at these very gatherings that I would pop in and ask the most ridiculous of questions; “anybody want free chocolate?” That’s like asking a bull if he wants to tear up a red cape! Out came the outstretched hands and the thank you’s....instant friend making technique….not a hard thing to do in a friendly crowd like this, but chocolate makes it all the more easier.

And so I did so and met new friends, faceless friends at that – since it was hard to decipher just who was who in the dim light. As the rain came down in spurts I continued my trollop through the magical farie like woods, into camps named “Ewok Village” and “Miss Janet’s Pirate Park” even “Muddy Hollow”…appropriately named for the massive field of mud that surrounded the tents.

There were little tiki torches leading from one village to the next and small encampments with makeshift sails and seats forming tribal counsels of wize jedi-like hikers named “Coconutty” and “Hot Feet” and “Fashion Foray”.

I would load my bag up with lets say a hundred or more ziplock backs filled with goodies and spread the cheer. Run back to Bill and Becky’s Jeep and refill up the bag and head out into the wet night again. Once I found myself close to the car but in the woods. I decided to take a shortcut and found my newly bought and shiny white New Balance shoes slumped down in a muddy stream. Well previously “shiny white”, now baptized in trail days mud.

By 11:30 I was done and quite chilled. The temperature dipped down to 60 that night. It was a bit insane for such a late day in May. I however was lucky enough to head back to a dry and warm motel room at the Days Inn....further proof that I have indeed become soft, that I am no longer of this AT world….i’m a veteran hiker, aged and withered and not of the hard stock of the true journeymen and women who will be gawked at by nearly 10,000 visitors to the town over the weekend.

Oh well. What can I tell ya. The bed felt great. Rested and refreshed we ventured towards town by 8am and I was proud to show Bill and Becky the town of Damascus as we sped around the narrow streets of which I now know so well. It was my first viewing by day of a town I had first visited 6 years back when I was just a dreamer. Just a kid with a plan to walk 2000 miles. Even then I had the audacity to be part of the speakers series and give a talk on my 50 state road trip….never mind that it had nothing to do with hiking or the Appalachian trail.

I think I was so caught up in the excitement of hiking or of being on the precipice of such an epic journey I felt I wanted to be part of that group instantaneously. “Let me in!” and they did. I guess that once yu take on a journey of that magnitude there is instant respect. “Hey you understand us…here is a temporary membership. Welcome!”

I gave my talk that morning to 20 souls who got up at the (for hikers at trail days anyway) ungodly hour of 9:30 (normally hikers are known to be up before the crack of dawn). It was a great talk. Sold 4 books to very grateful new disciples of thorough hiking and fielded lots of questions and curiosities about a different way to hike.

I find that most folks are hungry for info on doing things a different way. Some of my guests were older and wanted to lessen their load. Others were young and just wanted to not kill themselves. It is very satisfying to help them all.

When my ex-wife and I hiked in 2001 we were looked at a little strange with our ultra light and tiny backpacks. People thought we were cheating. How dare we go light and not do mega miles. We reversed the trend and said, “how bout going light and doing LESS miles?”

Something stuck. Nowadays all the vendors are pushing ultra-ultra-light gear. Nearly every booth at trail days was pushing “light” and at “less cost”….unbelievable. We were way ahead of our times. A few hikers did hear of our term, now firmly adopted; “yeah thorough hiking, we have heard of that. Quite a bit” came the answer to a couple from Massachusetts. That felt good. You see we coined the thorough hiking phrase and have two veteran hikers (12 time AT hiker Warren Doyle and Nimblewill Nomad) to prove it.

In any case, Trail Days is a blast, please don’t get me wrong but something tells me that it may have gotten too big for its britches (so to speak) as witnessed at the local Italian Restaurant Sicily’s. As Bill, Becky and I were exiting, a local resident, who had just sat down to a meal and was asked by the waitress how was his day going, we heard him nastily express the flip side to “The Friendliest Town on the Trail”; “I’ll feel better once these damn hikers get out of here!”

Granted its one guys opinion. And this is a friendly town. And no that guy does not speak for all residents. But with one comment like that yu know there has to be more. We do tend to override the town. The word “Plague” is not too far fetched. It seems to me that probably the best way to celebrate Trail Days is not to bunch up all the activities in one weekend. I mean trail days is a week long but the core things take place on the festivals last Friday, sat and Sunday. So the hikers slow down and at times quicken….all to get to trail days and sit their and in a sense (some of them come with…) feel they should be waited on hand and foot.

Yes, the town is friendly. But the first trail days was celebrated…lets not forget…to honor the hikers that came thru there. That’s quite an honor if yu consider that Damascus is paying homage to burly, smelly, bearded and a genuinely motley crew of society. Its quite something. I just don’t see the hikers (other than with their money) giving back equally but then again that’s not their fault, the town brought this on as they built it up and tried to capitalize on it. I wonder seriously how much of a financial impact does Trail Days present in their annual take? It would be fascinating to know. I’m assuming quite a bit.

But I cant escape the notion that perhaps there should be a return to a more primitive time. A simpler era. In compressing it and attempting to harness Trail Days, has the event or the phenomenon of it all been eroded. Has it peaked? A good question particularly on the heals of a massive New York Times “Escapes” section front page article that really put Trail Days on the map. I wonder how that article was pitched. Hmmmm. I wonder….and better yet….maybe I’ll check.

Stay tuned.

101 things i love about IKEA and why i am a good candidate for Liars Annonymous

2006-05-02T09:36:00.000-07:00

OK, so the flavor of the month now is the Georgia Aquarium, the new 200 million dollar concrete example that u can recreate nature just about anywhere, even a few hundred miles away from any ocean!

But a few months ago, Atlanta was abuzz about the new IKEA, a 60 million dollar venture to serve one of America's major metropolis'.

Everybody took their sides. One side (the yuppies and social-climbers) jumped for joy, the enviros and anti-Wall Mart crowd vowed never to set foot and signaled the beginning of the end!

I decided to give it a few months and let the noise die down before i would decide for myself - though, lets be realistic, the minimalist in me was aching to attack!

In the end i was torn. Is IKEA the beginning of the end? Can a store that sells cheap, pressboard shelving (and to be fair, a million other household products, some of them built to last) build a bridge in between two classes of society? Could i be asking too much, thinking too much, hoping too much of IKEA, to play a role in defining who we are?

Before I comment on that batch of sticky questions. Lets begin with a tour. Now normally yu’d start with the front door. But this is one of the world’s largest IKEAS and Ikea does nothing small. So before yu can step foot in the building yu must submit and be subjugated by the beast. Meaning yu must go subterranean. Like tectonic plates sliding over the weaker mass, Ikea is built upon its crowning achievements, an elaborate and ultra clean parking garage that exists under the entire massive blue and yellow structure.

And it is here where they begin working on yu. There are beautiful signs about what is in store for yu. There are posters and specials already blaring the goodies you couldn’t possibly resist getting even if you did not come there to buy in the first place. There are fancy escalators and elevators to whisk you inside. And another one whose main job it is to whisk you our effortlessly, cart in tow, (called the “travelator”) magically with all your goods floating downward – cart on the actual escalator, wheels locked in place and at an angle that wont tip anything off or have flying crts go whizzing down knocking others buyers into lawsuit heaven!

Forget something in the car? Well good luck getting back. The escalators all go up in one section of the building. Its almost impossible to go down, that is…unless you have gone through the entire store! There is a maze to ensure that you do get to see it all. Translation; buy it all or be tempted to buy it.

When you do approach the lobby of the entrance you will first smell the 75 cent a cup Danish fresh brewed coffee, piping hot next to the just baked 99 cent cinnamon buns! All of course as your dessert cuz for the main course you’ve got IKEAS famous Danish Meatballs and 50 cent hotdogs and 75 cent fountain drinks!

This is what the industry calls a loss leader. Items that the store is just barely making a profit on or coming up even steven but they are there to both keep ya happy and (God forbid yu get hungry) keep ya inside the store. Better still is the fact that if the brood is along, the little whipper snappers can be fed for under 10 bucks. Even a family of 5!

Speakin of little ones. What do you do with the pesky fellers when yu are trying to shop, pay attention to that big purchase yu might be contemplating with the Missus? Why, check them in of course. IKEA has thought of that too. Yes folks, free day care, on the premises. And we’re not talking some crappy carpeted room with a few toys. NOOOOO, they went all out.

In other words, IKEA wanted not only for you to believe they would be safe with trained childcare folks at hand but calm in the notion that there was enough to keep yur little one entertained with. Enter the “berry-est” happiest place on earth. IKEA’s holding pen. OK the nake is fancier, but it’s a holding pen no less. Complete with a themed village that begins with the following themed story of a lush land in spring time somewhere in Sweden; “soon u will have stepped thru the berry basket. With your clogs you walk past
rounded stone fences and thru the the magic forest….”

Yes folks rubber like trees with the spongy carpet and lots of toys await your tiny tot for hours of enjoyment so that nothing, not even your screeming little ones comes between you and yur particle board purchases!

So Ok, belly full, kiddies in the pen its time to grab a cart. But you say, “hey, I don’t need a cart, I’m just browsing today!” HA! Not so fast, yee of little will power. IKEA has another thought for you and its emblazoned in 30 inch lettering, just above the cart rack area. I quote; “grab a shopping cart your about to get your hands full” as if you are no match for the powers of IKEA marketing……actually….come to think of it, they are right, this is the land of impulse purchasing. On more than one occasion that day I heard one person say to their friend, spouse, partner; “well, we could always use this” or “you know that other rug seems ratty, why don’t we get this” or “but its sooo cute”.

Ok, so yur in the store, kiddies sequestered (out of yur hair) cart in tow (cuz yu just cant resist)….so what is there to buy. Well our first station has a “wall mounted drop leaf table” designed by Ann Laarson (whoever she is – there is a photo so maybe this is the ultimate doyeene domain to know by face and name all of the designers who make household tchotchkies!) for 49.99.

A bit expensive for a two foot table? How bout a better bargain for 5.99. Lets say “tea light” holders, not the candles mind yu, just the holders. Now if yu know tea lights, they already come with an aluminum can like base that catches all the wax. Guess IKEA is figuring yu might tip this and need an extra holder….or maybe yu live on an earthquake fault and will be experiencing wax run off due to a 4.5 richter hic-up? So for 5.99, hey, yur covered!

Ok, I’m being hyper critical yu say. “Cesar, c’mon, every store in America has stuff yu really don’t need. Ahhh yes but do they have the “Toftan” storage unit that attaches to the “Stoleman” post for a mere 129 bucks! Ha! Gotcha. Yes folks this is a new level of absurdity. For 129 bucks yu can get a space-age pole that holds a few boxes (can yu say milk crates and a used PVC pipe – hell I’ll bundle that up for ya for like 20 bucks) to hold….get this, incredibly heavy stuff like Q-tips, tampons, shaving cream and maybe a few meds?

Exactly how far do we have to disguise (or put on a pedestal…a 129 dollar pedestal) the normal realities of our lives? Are we that far removed and jaded to say to the world, these things don’t exist here. This is a bathroom, I wouldn’t want you to see bathroom like stuff in a bathroom, I want it invisible! “toiletries BE GONE! Ahh, HA, HA, HA….Poof!”

Ok, I’m getting a bit passionate here. As you can tell. But I’m not loosing it. I still have my marbles intact which is much more than I can say for IKEA’s odd view of the world. By that I’m talking about a section of quotes on the wall just before you begin to see the mother of all show rooms.

Here are two that I wrote down; “what if penguins were experts in home furnishing” and

“what if a ball of yarn got tired of cats and cardigans” Huh? Hey IKEA, here’s one for ya What if ya spoke English and explained just what do penguins and cats and cardigans or cats wearing cardigans really means! I think its just some pseudo-intellectual subversive marketing bull shit just to give the place some quirky edge.

As you wind yur way through their main layout yu will see fully furnished rooms, furnished to the hilt! Now yu will see this in other furniture stores but usually the flower vase or window treatment doesn’t have a price tag and info sticker attached to them. BUT here at IKEA, its all for sale.

And they mean this. One thing folks may or may not realize is that at the corner entry to each “suite” or fully furnished rooms or apartments (yes sometimes there are rooms yu enter that have a 2 bedroom apt style layout) yu will see a grand price if yu dare choose all and everything yu see in front of yu…..lock stock and flowery paper weight…barrel! The designers at IKEA have dolled up square foot vignettes of 237, 377, 592, and 753 square feet….so u can envision yur own unit of the same size looking just like theirs. Never mind that here at IKEA there are no door jams, plenty of track lighting and a roster of folks trampling thru yur faux home saying “ooohhh, ahhh, look at this.” Note to buyer; this is a wee bit of a tricky environment to buy furniture cuz yur thinking that the cooing people come with this stuff or “if I buy this stuff, lots of folks will want to come to my place and also oooohhh and ahhhh”

Sorry Charlie. They wont. You’ll be stuck with the bill and a hell of a lot of instruction and installation manuals to put all this crap together. Not too mention a shit load of Styrofoam, cardboard and cellophane bagies.

But there is so much here you ask, how can I possibly choose a style. I have a limited income and I’m here to show my sweetie that I’m open to graduating from milk crates and hand me down futons. IKEA has thought of that. Around the store there are stations with pencil paper and the following quote; “big or small its ur place and for any size home family or budhet u can find yur style with smart designs at very low prices from ikea. Come on in and explore this home (take our ideas - we want u to) and discover just how well u can live well within ur means”

HA!

I got to break this down folks. Sorry, just cant resist. Particularly this line;

“Come on in and explore this home (take our ideas - we want u to) and discover just how well u can live well within ur means”

This basically is telling the soon-to-be-IKEA junkie that there sense of style and imagination is shit. “You have no originality.” Says the dark voice behind the curtain. “We will teach yu proper design, we will tell yu what to buy!” Of course they want yu to take their ideas. Since before u got in the store, yu probably had one of each object that is in the store. What IKEA is really telling yu is that their stuff is cooler. Its time to replace that old ratty couch or coffee table with one of ours. See its translucent quality! Yeah, that is no match against that silly aux wood grain crap table yur momma gave yu all from the basement. “Chuck that thing! Time to grow up, use this stuff to show u’ve made it!”

Which is part of the problem I have with IKEA. We are made to believe that this high end designed but cheaply constructed furniture will make us look good. But don’t look to hard, or….don’t move the furniture too much. Or the fascade will crumble. Remember that though design is key to making yu buy it, the tipping point of the sale comes with the price. This is a devastation combinbation that makes yu overlook the fact that yu are indeed buying cheap crap. And anyone that knows furniture will agree. Hell even IKEA agrees. How bout this explanation on price vs. design;

“an idea without a price tag has no meaning that’s why at IKEA a low price is part of every design”

So they begin with design but soon there after say, how can we mimic this look while building it with the cheapest materials in the world? i.e. plastic screws, particle board, laminate fake wood grain surfaces etc….

They promote something called “Democratic Design” which they follow with the following quote, bathed under nice lighting; “Enjoy a beautiful life at home without giving up the rest of what makes life worth living, IKEA believes every one of us deserves that.”

I wish IKEA would answer their own question….”what exactly makes life worth living?” and what the hell is a “beautiful life?” and why should getting one ensue that we might have to be “giving up” something to get it in the first place. Seems to me, buying all this crap makes us reach for that brass ring while loosing our footing on the carousel of life. In other words, paying for all this stuff takes time away from enjoying life. Are we simply buying it to show others a ruse. That in effect I will have just enough time to swallow a Tylenol to suppress that blinding headache caused by the 60 hour week it takes to keep paying for stuff I see only at night or once a week when I invite my family or friends over for “the tour!”

You know “the tour”, that customary (whether u like it or not) tradition that all homeowners feel the need to inflict upon visitors so that can show off the new addition or new pile of crap they bought. Sometimes I want to add; “well that’s nice but in case yu got the wrong idea, I came here to see yu, not yur new shit!”

OK, relax Cesar, its gonna be all right. C’mon guy, reign back on the negative, there has to be some positive thing yu can say about IKEA. OK there is. And I’m not joking here. One great thing I see about IKEA’s design principals is that they do promote small space living. The fact that they have showroom apt of 277 square feet is testament to that. So they have a less is more approach but then they fuck it up by designing space saving pieces not necessarily to breathe more room into such a small space but…..here it comes…..but to make room for even more stuff. So Mc Mansion or not, you can have the same elements a big home has but in a Mini-me sorta way!

OK, I tried saying something positive. Really I did.

Rescuing Tanya; Perilous journey ends with a new beginning.

2006-05-01T16:31:00.000-07:00

Fifteen dollars and ninety five cents was the final bill (tip included). I had an unsweetened tea with lemon, my guest had a Budweiser. The staff at The China Steak House in Hialeah Florida was persnickety about taking up table space (in their practically empty restaurant) without ordering food so I ordered a heaping plate of sweet and sour chicken to go. It came with that delicious duck sauce, some rice and two fortune cookies. All of which were familiar to me. Familiar to all of us really, except those that have only seen a fortune cookie opened up on a movie screen!

Introducing; Tanya Olga Rodriguez; dining guest, long lost cousin, Cuban escapee and newest immigrant to America.

The story really begins at another restaurant many miles away from The China Steak. I was checking my voice mail from a borrowed cell phone just before entering the Shoney’s All u can eat Buffet Restaurant in Chattanooga, Tennessee, when I got word from my mother that “Tanya had finally arrived.” Those words sent chills down my spine. For Tanya has been on my mind since I was a kid. Early on in one’s Cuban-American reality, you will hear of a visiting great-grandfather or aunt about to visit from Cuba. The excitement levels rise, parties are planned anticipation builds and everyone heads for Miami International Airport as if The Beetles were arriving!

Now I had known that a plan was in place to get her out of Cuba but I had no idea how dicey it would end up being. When I checked my voice mail the details were sketchy. Tanya had arrived in Texas, she then flew to Miami and was now in Hialeah Florida with her father! Huh? That just proved to open up a slough of questions….so I quickly called my mom.

“It took 5 days, there was a boat, rough seas, a holding house, several buses and small planes and a border crossing.”

It seemed surreal. Especially since I was inside this (above mentioned) all u can eat buffet. Where the only danger was the off chance that the place would run out of chocolate pudding. Well for maybe 5 minutes. Nothing runs out at the Golden Corral, a place that is a world and a reality away from the story I would hear when I’d finally meet my long lost and never seen before cousin.

My first recollection of having a cousin in Cuba was a faint photograph of this skinny wirey haired girl with a big smile wearing a yellow jumper like outfit. It is still in my mind. Mention of her was always followed with “you know she’s about your age” and so there was something I could relate to. However just about everything else in our lives were the extreme polar opposites. I knew that for years but until I would meet her, it would not dawn on me just HOW different our upbringings could be.

Much of that realization makes me think about the slight of fate that comes with history and moments in history that can change things forever.

But for years I would get to know Tanya a little bit by writing her letters and she in turn writing back. Now it wasn’t gobs of letters but now and then maybe once a year. Sending a letter to Cuba could in fact take a long time. Maybe a few months since all letters going in and all letters going out ARE ALL READ by censors who’s job it is to make sure nobody is planning anything….and maybe just to fuck with peoples minds a bit.

Control is a constant in Cuba. Control of freedom, food, speech even movement are all carefully watched. Thinking however is another story. Which is where Tanya’ tale comes in. As with my own train of thought, there are just some people who no matter how long they have been blasted and exposed by a particular way of life….just don’t conform. Just do not agree with the status quo. And in the end either lead dual lives or rebel wholeheartedly.

I’m a rebel and although I have come to find out that Tanya is too, her act of rebellion was years in the making. But where I had the opportunity to choose, Tanya had to lead a dual life. She tried, tried real hard to make it work. She studied, got her degree (architecture), rose up the ranks, kept her unhappy demeanor in check and lived on the best she could. But unhappiness and restlessness are not good partners to keep. And so it was that when her father was able to leave Cuba due to his age and retirement, he vowed to get her out as well.

That would of course be easier said than done.

It is not easy leaving Cuba legally, sometimes that proves to be even more dicey when yu begin planning elaborate ways to safely get off the island. Tanya’s father Luiz had been working on a plan for Tanya to marry an American. The plan was only part plan, the other half unfortunately was part business proposal. And it went sour….along with the $6,000 that her father worked so hard to make….he himself a recent newcomer.

So it was that a few months later, another plan was hatched to hire Mexican smugglers who traffic in human cargo. Yes there is a price for everything. And this one was to cost $12,000. Most of it for bribing folks and officers along the way.

THE JOURNEY;

It began innocently with a messenger who came to let Tanya know just where to be and when. 7pm outside of a park outside of Havana alongside a remote road. Getting there is another story. One which Tanya relied on a good friend who she said respected the fact that she could not tell him just what was happening. “All he knew was to have the car ready, with enough fuel, at a certain time and be ready to drive.”

“that ride was the longest two hours of my life. I knew then there was no turning back. I could not tell anybody, anything, not my mom (although Tanya feels that she must have known or had a feeling) nor my best friends. You just cant take that risk. Plus yu do not want to get anybody into any trouble or have them in an uncomfortable situation where they are hiding something. So its best to just go!”

At the park, she waited and waited, with a small bag (part of the directions she was given was to pack very lightly, with a few things to wear and eat) the size of a big purse, but nothing bigger. A car pulled up and opened its passenger door. The driver knew exactly who she was and she was whisked off into the night, to God knows where. When the car stopped she was joined by three dozen more souls and ordered to climb aboard a giant truck and crouch down low so that nobody would see them. The truck rolled and bounced along with the loose wooden boards that made up its structure as the wind chilled all 40 something souls that now resembled more cargo like qualities than that of human beings.

Four long hours went by as the truck road down even bumpier roads and as the air changed from chilly and cold to salty. They were near the ocean they could hear, but it was pitch dark and even the smokers were asked not to light up as were the chatter-bugs asked not even to whisper. One by one they were brought down off the truck and when Tanya’s feet hit the ground her equilibrium was off. For some reason she could not stand up straight. She thought it was from being crouched down on the long ride.

Soon there after as she began taking steps she realized it was not that after all. It was the fact that the ground was uneven, rocky and sharp. The smugglers called for everybody’s attention and began whispering orders to follow in a single file line slowly. “Slow was the key word.” explained Tanya “each and every step was just impossible, I felt like I was going to fall down, I could not see my hand in front of me, it was that dark….so I would crouch down almost and walk as if on all fours.”

Her hands and at times knees paid the price with scratches and bruise marks. That walk took four hours. But she thinks they barely went but 2 miles or so.

When the group reached an alcove they realized that this must be the place where the boat was to meet them. And sure as hell did a boat appear…only problem was that it looked as if it was a toy boat. “I laughed inside….yu got to in this situation, some folks freaked out and turned around and left. What was clear was that this had to be a joke right? There were 40 of us, this boat looked like it could hold 15….tops!”

But on they went. One by one. Some into the galley and in the hold, others on the deck or the fishing platform. Slowly, precariously…. the boat chugged away.

It took nearly 24 hours for the boat to reach Cancun, Mexico. And the seas were rough. Many was the moment where barf bags were distributed, filled with human queasiness and tossed over into the ocean until the process was begun again. Distribute. Barf. Toss. And Refill!

On a few occasions the Mexicans scrambled everybody below deck like a can of sardines. They’s pull out the fishing gear and act as if they were on some grand Sailfish tournament. Only it was 3am and the boats that approached them luckily were not from the law.

However something tells me that was more of a tactic to protect their profits than to protect their cargo. The less entanglements meant that they had less people to bribe. So the money was a just in case measurement more than it was money for gas and food or labor costs.

In Cancun they were met with more Mexican smugglers who greeted them with Cancun tourist t-shorts and resort wrist bands as they (in small groups of 4 or so) exited the boat to smiling guards, rifles in tow and onto waiting mini vans after sashaying thru oppulant swimming pools and hotel lobbies.

A few minutes later they were all back again, sardined into a few rooms of a home away from the core tourist area. It is there where they got a pretty decent meal and the cell phones were busy making calls to relatives in other parts of the world. It is also there where the Mexicans would then give orders on how to get the balance of the money (in cash) paid to their men on the street. “meet so and so at this time, 9,000 dollars in cash, then we will proceed” So it cost 3 grand to get them to Mexico and another 9 to get them across the border!

That process took another 4 days where Tanya says she could barely sleep or eat. She was emaciated. But eventually the call came in. Her family had rounded up the cash. Tanya was ready to go home. A few bus rides a small plane ride and a van ride later, she was somewhere near the border. The van door opened and she was told to proceed toward the guards.

The very same guards that were holding rifles. Smiling. Only instead of standing between her and the border. They welcomed her and bid her a good trip into America. After crossing a bridge. She entered the United States and asked for political asylum (a privilege denied most other immigrants {i.e. Hatians} but thanks to the political and economic influence of the well connected Cuban community, folks like Tanya are welcomed with open arms).

In less than a few hours she had paperwork and was free to go. Only she had no idea where she was. And had little money left to her name. What hit her soon was the biggest hunger pains she had experienced. Maybe even bigger than back in Cuba. She had been such a nervous wreck, that hunger was the last thing on her mind. “In Cuba we would curb hunger by drinking a glass of water with sugar. But I was at any moment of this crossing fearing that we would be caught, I would be sent back and me and my family, punished. So I really forgot to eat. But when I was free, it hit me, and I bought, I think yu all call a hot dog, somehow it tasted like the best thing I had ever eaten!”

A friend that also made the crossing helped her dial up her family and soon arrangements were made to get her to a small airport where a plane would take her to Houston. The airport was so tiny it actually was closed by the tiome she got there and the flight would have to wait till the next morning. It was nippy outside and Tanya was not prepared for it. She could not see why the guard would not let her inside to get warm. So she sat on a bench shivering. Ironically, even though she was now free, she probably came very close to the effects of hypothermia – not a laughing matter. Luckily she managed to stay warm and in the morning flew into Houston.

It is there where her new surroundings began to hit her hard. The terminal at Houston was so grandiose and so filled with food, products and shiny things that it was dawning on her that “if this was the airport, I cant imagine what the regular cities would look like.” Coming from Cuba, yu are used to (as Tanya explained) a lot of nothingness. Whether it be bare shelves or empty stores to dull packaged products and raw materials. But here at the Houston airport, life looked like a dream sequence. Was this happening? Was this for real?

Another ticket had been purchased and soon Tanya was whisked off to Miami. Her family had booked her a first class ticket. But Tanya had never flown in first class. Come to think of it, Tanya had never flown a commercial airliner so she wouldn’t know what first class was if it fell on her lap. Which is exactly what happened. The hot towels. NEW for Tanya. Glasses of campaign. NEW for Tanya. (actually it took her a while to realize that she could ask for a glass, when she did, she asked for two) Fancy food delivered to yur seat at 30,000 feet. ALL NEW for Tanya!

The plane landed in Miami and after 6 long days her ordeal and journey was over. But there was a new one to start. One that I will follow up in the future. One that might even prove to dwarf the peril of her underground-railroad like crossing.

But for now, she is safe. She is with her father and her family. Some of her family. The other ( a mom a few relatives and her real stability – her friends) is across a 90 mile stretch of water that separates one world from a completely different reality.

See the above mentioned story was told to me at a restaurant whose (above mentioned) meal cost 15 dollars – the actual monthly salary of Tanya Olga and others who are professionals in Cuba – she being an architect. So there in lies the new challenge and mind screw that is the divide between Cuba and the US and for anybody making that transition. It is the rewiring and the path that Tanya will choose to find her own way and happiness, plus the balance of the two that is of great interest to me and to her. I’m picking on a money example so that yu can get a taste to relate to the divide, but it is far more complicated than that. We talked about it at length but I felt it was too early to comment about it here. It has been 3 months since our talk so I hope to wait a bit to see how she is doing before I tackle on. Until then, I am wishing Tanya all the luck and good opportunity that this country can offer and hope that the transition goes smoothly.

Cesar Becerra

Note on photo; Tanya Olga Rodriguez is pictured in the center being flanked by my sister Leslie on the left and brother Carlos on the right, and far right is Tanya’s father Luiz. Of course there is Leslies dog Kayla….and we don’t want to miss out on mentioning her.

I will post other photos of Tanya when I get them scanned, so stay tuned.

Deep vibes at The Davis station T; Missing my train is all Jenn taranto's fault!

2006-04-30T23:33:00.000-07:00

As I entered the Davis Square T Station (Subway Station in Boston) I heard what had to be a mistake for the music was much to sharp and too dramatic to be simply a Muzac track pumping though industrial speakers in this cavernous cold concrete tube. As I inched closer to the turnstile it just kept crawling under my skin. My pace quickened to see where this was coming from.

As I descended the escalator a thin young woman was strumming away at her guitar. A few bars passed where I thought she would inch up to the mic and compliment the mood of the sounds with words….but she was too immersed in the feeling of where they came from. It was clear that on the surface that this was just another street musician performing at a Subway stop…nothing new in Boston or New York or wherever there are crowds that congregate…but then again it also seemed quite out of place.

In other words, and when the lyrics seeped out, I had the urge to look around for hidden cameras. Was this a joke? This was no mere street musician, this was an artist. And she was damn good. So good that I missed the train I had previously been huffing and puffing to catch.

Now for the second train, I had a choice, a choice made easier by some ongoing moody and sometimes darkly honest songs. I chose to stay. Another train gone. I was lulled into a trance by the music and voice and passion of Jenn Taranto.

She noticed I had stayed on by tipping her head in a quiet salute and thanks for staying just to hear her music. I dropped a bill in the hat and along with it, a note telling her how much I enjoyed her music and to please e-mail me….that I’d like to write a story. The truth is I wanted to know just how did she end up at this station? What was that life all about?

A month later after e-mailing and keeping in touch I reunited with Taranto, but this time for a one-on-one interview at a popular nearby coffee house named The Diesel Cafe.

What I learned was quite a story;

Born in Medellene, Columbia, Jenn was adopted at 3 months old by a family in New Jersey. That was really my first burning question since she looked Latina. So really, she’s been in America all her life which helped to explain why I could not detect an ounce of an accent on her. She grew up in a suburb called Allendale, new Jersey.

As an only child Jenn lived a good life, one that she even admits would have been probably far different had she been raised in Columbia. Her earliest introduction to music came from her parents having the radio on on an almost constant basis. By the 80’s she took to Prince, Madonna, and then along came Paula Abdul and Tori Amos. Explains Taranto; “Paula was just an amazing all around entertainer and Amos sang about the intricate details of her most personal relationships. Which was astounding to me. Opening up like that, seemed so freeing!”

By 9 she had hit the Piano lesson set and began impromptu recordings of herself. Early on she learned not too stray from the valuable lesson of honest story telling as Amos did. Keeping it real and personal, Taranto will mine any subject no matter how banal. She’ll sing about personal relationships and love which are nothing new in songwriting but will even sing about a Grandma who died recently (“Catherine”).

There’s another song about her and her boyfriend of two years. That particular song is about how good or not good she is. The song is called “There’s no one like you”. “Month of June” is a song about an ex (her first serious boyfriend). It’s about knowing what she did, as to why it broke down, and how she feels that he is with someone else right now. By 17, Taranto got up from the piano and grabbed a guitar. By 21, she was writing her own music to go with her poetry. Now she’s 24. So in reality Taranto is still new at this game and yet visibly comes across as a veteran.

Music is it. She knows it. She’s tried other things. Ballet in high school, theatre in college. But a degree in communications and culture led her to further know that expressing herself was paramount and how to get her words out to make a dent in the populous is her current challenge.

Translation; MAKING IT. Again, way easier said than done. As with all artists, here is where life gets in the way. Things that have nothing to do with her music and yet have everything to do with potentially derailing her from making it, playing it and continually creating it.

The challenges run the gamut. Not all seem dire but they all chip away at a window of opportunity when an artist is young, hungry and committed. But the time ticks away when your dealing with;

A. A poodle named Pickles who is blind. She had to put him down recently, so there was the fallout of that decision.

B. She’s trying to make it in Boston. Pay the rent. Eat. Keep a job.

C. Her mother is having kidney problems. There might have to be a major operation.

I could go on but it would just get too depressing. So how does one make it while attempting to juggle the realities that life tends to throw yur way?

You hit the road and ask to play anywhere at any time. She plays at places like the Lizard Lounge and another place called Toad in Cambridge. When she plays at those places, she plays for about two hours and they pay her about $50 total and she can sell her CD’s. At Lizard, she gets $50/hr. plus drinks and discounts on food and drinks. There’s another place called Skybar in Summerville, which is not very hard to play and they’ll actually put anybody in there, but you have to bring people there to get a percentage of the door. C’mon Skybar, give these artists a break!

Then there is always the subway stops. At first I cringed when I asked if playing that venue was demoralizing. Turns out that to Jenn that viewpoint couldn’t be further from the truth. Get this; At the T, or Subway, sometimes she could make as much as $500/wk. playing for the commuters. Believe it or not. Just by putting her little hat out, people donate that much. Course that’s a lucky week. A week when yu are fortunate enough to get to play at a lucrative stop. Turns out there is a pecking order here. If another musician betas yu to it, it is rude to compete and set up at the same station. So this means getting there at 5am sometimes.

Jenn usually plays for about 3 to 4 hours or until she gets to about $100 in donations. The rest of her money comes or came from such temp jobs such as a filing job at Liberty Mutual, once as a catering assistant at The Hyatt, answering phones at numerous corporate lobbies, and taking care of patients with Alzheimer’s at the Alzheimer’s Institute.

But playing for donations in the subway tops them all. There she can zone out. Be into her music. And hone her craft. Watch for reactions to her songs. See what works. So in other words its more than just the money. In a sense she is crafting both her image and marketing herself not to mention road testing her strengths and weaknesses.

This is all well and dandy if yu are calm enough to read into the faces of yur crowd, something that admittedly came not so naturally to Taranto. “At first I was a bit terrified of playing in public” she explains about her first public showing in Central Park. She put her hat out and strummed the guitar and managed to sing for 15 minutes before packing it all up and rethinking her trajectory to become a musician. “It was very hard to do but eventually I got comfortable.”

On a bad day at the subway she only makes $20.00. But there are positives to playing for the masses, even if they are sipping their morning brew and yapping on their cell phones. One morning there were some “borderline homeless street people” who always seemed to show up for Jenn and as they were listening, they were literally crying. She thinks it hits them hard because there are elements in her music that speak to loneliness and solitude.

While playing regularly at the The Downtown Crossing Station, a guy who obviously was a little bit slow or had some mental issues kept listening to her for weeks or months. One day, he came up to her and said “Your music has helped me a lot. I tried to kill myself once but your music helped me get through it”. So there are those moments where Taranto is hit hard with the reality of what her music means or can mean to people. A few weeks later Jenn bumped into the same guy, who apparently is now sober and coping with the world…..with Taranto’s music as his soundtrack.

Right now Jenn is chiseling her look and branding her image with a great quirky, cool look. She’s sort of got this curly hair with purple highlights. She had her septum pierced after she saw two girls and these photos of them pierced so she thought she would try that. Her ears are pierced. She sort of looks like a sassy, earthy-cruchy but modern swashbuckling poet pirate. Colorful, in control and passionate.

The high seas await as her vessel sails off into uncharted waters May 5^th at the Lizard Lounge. There, her new CD will debut (yu can get a taste of it and order it at www.jenntaranto.com). She is hoping for a turnout of about 350 people. But she will play for anybody.

What is for sure is that those who show and those who will listen….will be truly blessed.

These are a few of my favorite things (about the absurdity of this past year's holiday shopping!)

2006-01-15T15:23:00.000-08:00

Photos; Above, Roboraptor, far right, Charlie Brown's X-mas Tree, Mall parking lot and wine weekend gift package.

Its January! Lets celebrate. The gift giving/buying/worrying season is behind us. And what a season it was. Completely filled with a massive amount of future never-to-be-used-or-soon-to-be-out-of-style-expensive-as-hell stuff!

Stuffville, i call it.

Yes of course u'll have the occasional practical item; a jacket, a great big jar of sun-dried tomatoes, unlimited access to running water and the leisure to travel. Uhh, whoops, that's my list. Sorry.

I'm being a smart ass of course. But in reality, through my eyes.....we need food, water and shelter to survive. The rest, though u are welcome to argue with me, are luxuries. Pure and simple. Our entire economy rests on the key point of making u think that a certain product fits into those three categories. But do they?

It's that time of year again. Only before i had a blog, i just kept this annual list to myself. The list i'm talking about of course is my favorite "useless holiday season items". These are the gold medal winners in their own odd categories.

I'll begin with the hands-down winner; or as i like to call this category "The worst 12 dollars u'll ever spend";

The winner; "Christmas Moods by the Fireplace", a DVD of a video of someone elses roaring, crackling fire; found at Office Depot, Chattanooga, TN when i was staying over with the Bridges family (Becky and Bill). I have to admit, we were the impromtu committee of three that unanimously chose this winning entry.

The DVD case reads; "There is nothing more festive than a fire on a cold winter's night and for every one of us the fascination of watching a flickering flame rekindles the spirit of the holiday season. What's more; the true sense of well being and relaxation that this can induce is invaluable in the hustle and bustle during this time of year."

As if that wasn't classic enough, it goes on:

"Pull up a chair, put yur feet up and relax to soothing sounds mixed with images of mezmirizing dancing flames. It's everything u need to create the perfect fire in yur living room at just the flick of a switch....or in this case a push of a button on ur DVD player. It is perfect when its cold outside or u just want to curl up with the one u love for a special evening ."

So what exactly is inside;

"Burning for a restful 2 hours, this program will not only help u to relax and put the trials and tensions of the day into perspective, it will also warm and comfort the soul in a way that u would not have believed possible from ur television set."

and they end with, i kid u not; "soundtrack includes natural fire sounds"

I WOULD HOPE SO!!!!

Now lets break down some of this DVD's claims. Does anyone ever really study what it is they are trying to say? The arguments they are trying to make?

"There is nothing more festive than a fire on a cold winter's night"

Well i don't know, what about some nice fireworks or your sweetie in a Teddy? That's gonna beat the fireplace thingie hands down!

"What's more; the true sense of well being and relaxation that this can induce is invaluable in the hustle and bustle during this time of year."

True sense of well being = crackling fireplace? Huh? I love the fact that they totally define this time of year as being filled with "hustle and bustle", but should we have to go out and play that game. As if we have no other choice than to go through this crap year after year. Thank God for this DVD, what would we do without it!

"Burning for a restful 2 hours, this program will not only help u to relax and put the trials and tensions of the day into perspective, it will also warm and comfort the soul in a way that u would not have believed possible from ur television set."

So basically they are saying that nothing else eminating from yout TV set will comfort you at all, but pop this baby in and whala, the only thing that can "put the trials and tensions of the day into perspective". I'll put all this into perspective; STOP playing this game every year!

I guess my hyper-disdain from the materialistic view of the holidays was amped up a bit higher this year thanks to a play i saw in Atlanta (thank you Marji for taking me to the Horizon Theatre that night) called The Santaland Diaries, a lovely diatribe written by essayist David Sedaris, who is one of the (if not THE) best writers in America.

Actor Harold M. Leaver did a masterful job waxing poetically about Sedaris' stint as a Shopping Mall "seasonal elf" and the ensuing fiascos and tales that transpire during a typical holiday season. His elf name of "Crumpet" fit him perfectly, as the ultimate merry misanthrope!

Crumpet pokes fun at the insane pressures of how the holidays turn normal human beings into pathetic, wining, irate and absurd heathens who seem to have left their manners locked inside their car before they even enter the mall.

There is the pop shot at the "Mall Santa" phenomenon too (ala the Billy Bob Thornton/Bad Santa pic of a two years back) in relation to the wacky folks that each year don the red and white fur. Drunk Santa, atheist Santa, high on weed Santa...you name it.

Each year millions flock with their kids to the mall to continue the ruse that this jolly old man flies across the world bringing presents to all, when all the while they (the parents) secretively wish to revert to a simpler time where a $4 Tonka truck brought hours of enjoyment!

And so, the adults (kids with 401k's) will try to time travel to the past while purchasing expensive items in desperate hope that with more money comes more of that elusive magic. Which brings me to the insane (incredibly overpriced) items i witnessed "on sale" (yeah right) this season. Here are a few;

Dean and Delucas Tiffany Chocalate Box, a 6 inch square block of choc for just 80 bucks! www.temperchocolates.com

But if a sweet tooth is not ur thing, them maybe some serious liquor is. Aside from the elaborate, wine gift bags that are getting a wee bit ornate and even pricey (i saw one for 12 bucks, c'mon people!) there is:

A barrel, that's what i said "a barrel" (cuz a bottle would be just to small a gesture) of Tennesse Whisky, $9,000, that translates to about 220 bottles of whisky or 220 christmas gifts of one bottle per year! (more than a life time). Go ahead order it, see if i'm lyin; 888-551-5225

OK $9,000 too much, yet still wanna deliver that "Sideways/Napa Valley" experience. You can send your honey or fellow wine junkie to become a vinyard wine maker for a few days, $3,900 bucks, www.crushpadwine.com

I could go on, but it would bore u and seriously continue to outrage me! But speaking of outrage, how about a few choice tales that just make ya warm and fuzzy in remembering the wonderful gift giving season that was December, 2005;

At the Wall Mart near my parents home is western Dade County on December 23rd, at just about 5 AM police were trying to keeps folks from cutting in line. Let me say that again; Police, those folks that go after criminals that our tax payers pay to keep on board....the very ones with the badges and uniforms..those folks were called to make sure that us regular folks (adults i might add) did not cut in line!

The police actually tried to make the crowd assemble into a single file line! Ha. At 6am, the hoard trampled into the store, knocking over several display cases, clothes racks and more!

Have we really lost it? Apparently we have!

Just a few miles away, a few days earlier, a 73 year old woman (Josephine Taylor) waiting in a similar line at Brandsmart (inside the massive/sprawling Sawgrass Mills Mall on the edge of The Everglades in Broward County, had to be taken to the hospital after being trampled.

A lone sneaker lay on the floor after the rush passed over her. As the paramedics arrived, few turned heads to see what was the matter as they hurredly loaded shopping carts with goodies that could have easily been bought year round!

I'm wondering the following at times like these; Is the price we pay worth the struggle, stress and headache of these times? If we all know the stories, year after year, then who the hell is showing up at these places, participating in the melee? Do we have labotomies somewhere in the middle of the year? With an erased memory of a painful and stressfull period we are once again lured by the siren of "sale" ads, banners and newspaper inserts.

My favorite moments during the holidays is reading quotes from shoppers who have seemed to have lost their minds, which unfortunately are sometimes attached to their wallets. Here is my favorite;

Nine hours into his shopping spree, Stephen Hernandez had snagged three laptops, two computer systems, and three TV’s, video games, and some assorted small items that tallied a cool $2,500. His response was a classic;

"I’m pretty much broke right now. It was a long night but we almost got everything we wanted."

As if a force unbenounced to him woke him in the middle of his suburban slumber and made him show up at Best Buy at 7:00am on a Sunday morning he adds;

"I don’t really know what I’m going to do with it all"

My other favorite thing in the category of marketing masked as editorial stories, was one from USA Today that was reporting on (yeah right) the alternative to crowded malls;

Anne Low Bayly the editor of www.Dailycandy.com was discussing great shopping finds at local pharmacy stores such as CVC, Wallgreens etc.. Clutched in her hands were a bevy of small "stocking stuffers" such as a Coby 5 inch Black and White portable television for $27.49 (though i dont know if that really fits into a stocking - not the ones from back in the day).

She ads.."Any 12 year old boy would go crazy with that in his bedroom."

Mmmmm, maybe a 39 inch wide screen for todays kids sister! She's gotta be thinkin about a kid from 1978!

Other absurdities that actually were being marketed and i'm afraid sold were; (listen up parents, in case a birthday is looming):

Garfield Chia Pet 15.99, Back to Basic's red electric guitar 129.99, an Elizabeth Colonial Era "Felicity" doll for 87 bucks, with books and accesories about 92-100 bucks.

A "Roboraptor" robot from Wow Wee Toys, $99, this thing whips its tail (wow really, nooo, yur kidding!), plays tug of war (with what ants, i'd like to play tug-of-war with that thing!), and detect objects in its path (i'd like to test it out on cavernous basement stairwells or see if it can "dectect", maybe trip up....piano movers? yeah, i'd like to see that).

Speaking of stocking stuffers, ooooh let me not forget the Nethis $595 dollar "metallic boot" trimmed with Ferdi pink lace, encrusted with bugle beads and sequins and crammed with pink feathers! Gotta have that!

Also bordering on the insane but tapping into the nostalgia market is;

Charlie Brown’s Patriotic Christmas tree $24, a Custom velvet Elvis Portrait $149 (u send in photo - they incorporate it into a hideous painting of u in the suit with the big ole collars encrusted in jewells!

Ahh yes, holiday gift giving season 2005, i will miss it indeed! Can't u just tell i so can't wait till next year!

Cesar A. Becerra
Atlanta, GA

Dating in the new Millennium; Part Deux - Meat Market meets Museum

2006-01-06T20:50:00.000-08:00

Sure u've heard of romantic tales of folks rounding the Degas and bumping into their future mate in a quiet corner of the Lourve. Maybe a chance glance between an Alexander Calder mobile at the MET...and whala - true love blooms.

Well, museums and other non traditional setting are not only the place people are meeting but the very place singles groups are vetting to throw their next suaree.

Welcome to the next stage of dating in the new millennium. No i'm not saying that folks will abandon their favorite new form of dating (the internet) as of yet, but those that are getting burned out or just plain "burned" on-line are retreating to more traditional settings. Such was the case when i attended a singles event called First Night at Bostons Museum of Fine Art. Sure the museum participates along side other museums galleries that join in to keep doors open late. And of course you dont HAVE to be single to attend. But this runnaway hit of an evening is now a fixture for the single set that has taken an active role in moving the meat market away from the bar scene and into a more quaint arena. But make no mistake about it, it's still a meat market!

At the tail end of a long regal hallway with stately columns and massive chandelliers and along side hundreds of 16th and 17th century paintings and sculptures hung an El Greco painting painted in 1610 called simply St. Catherine. As you will see above - she's the chick with the sword and the funky head gear. The legendary Saint Catherine was widely renowned for her learning and wisdom, so much so that the Roman emperor Maximilian wanted her to be his wife. Her Christian faith was so strong that she refused the pagan ruler; in retaliation, he ordered that she be tortured. Catherine was bound to a spiked wheel, but freed when a thunderbolt from heaven shattered it. This proved to only infuriate "Maxie" and in her hand is the very sword with which she was ultimately beheaded.

Ouch! Poor Catherine. So much for dating in the old days! Basically, the man was in charge. Case closed. Hell hath no fury like a pagan ruler scorned! I found it appropriate and a tad bit humorous that in the course of that painting's history, times - dating rituals in particular - had changed big time! Seems to me, that if there are any beheadings going on today, its gonna be the guys a-heads a-rollin! For the power has shifted, and i could see it all over the room. In gestures. Faces. Body language. Stand offish-ness.

And no, i dont mean to imply that women are devils. Its just the playing field has more than equalled. But most definately, the woman has the upper hand. On most - but i'll stop short calling it on all occassions, i witnessed this phenomenon visualla and later as witnessed in examples from my interviews.

But before we get into those nuances, let me set the stage. Fifteen bucks gets yu in the door. And their were litteraly, had to be, at least 300 or more people packed into two large rooms that bookended a great rotunda where John Singer Seargeant murals looked down on the crowd which had ABSOLUTELY no interest in murals that night. The only clear artifact that got great recognition were 3 oversize bottles of Saphire Gin at three distinct open bar stands. Obviously the title sponsor. Forgive my ignorance of the brand but i am not a drinker.

Two "tapas" stations also got some attention so that the revellers were well fortified for the night's hunt. Yapping is terribly exhausting. especially while standing in high heels. I noticed this early and had a seat on one of the few leather chairs placed near the giant stairway. It proved to be both a perfect perch to people watch, plus capture some great interviews....for on three occasions women (listen up guys! hint-hint) dying to throw their shoes off for a while, plopped down on the seat next to mine.

The first was Emily. A graphic designer/artist from Washington DC. with long flowing hair down to her waist. I was thankful she sat down for earlier in the night i had overheard her friend utter some phrase to the tune of "look, i'm not about to just talk to anybody, i dont want to give them the wrong impression!" Bingo. Just the folks i wanted to talk to. I knew that the reality of the situation was that most folks in this setting find the entire process a bit ridiculous. On the one hand the museum is there to what....somehow mask the reality that you are looking to hook up and meet someone. A step above the bar scene yes, but i saw many a guy and gal getting just as hammered and just as slurred.

"Basically, its still a meat market" explained Emily, who acknowledged this was not her scene. I could tell that one. I saw in her that she wanted to be somewhere else. On another level i felt she was thankful that the art at least was there. We discussed the internet and how it basically served the same role as the evenings proceedings. "It gives some people atleast a common ground. We atleast know that most people here are single....and looking."

Which begs the question. Should a decision as potentially important as finding a mate be forced or designed rather than lucid and by random chance? Is the one out there in the universe destined to be put forth in front of us in due time or do we actively "shake the sheets" or look in the haystack to find him/her? While u mull that over, let us continue on our journey through the museum's First Night dating party.

Now museums are supposed to be quiet contemplative places. This was not the case tonight. In a room with a rounded cathedral ceiling, what began early in the evening as a whisper grew to practically a shouting match in some corners. The domino effect went as such; with a whisper bouncing here and ice buckets clanging there, high heels clapping here and the band playing over there.....the entire room grew into a giant richocheting mess. No peace. But then again the real volume was being turned up by some of the women's outfits. Not all (this is Boston, not Miami mind u) but there were some doozies!

A fresh from Florida faced sun worshiper sported a velour baby blue jumpsuit complete with rhinestones. Tight leather pants up against a dead furry animal dressed up another dame. And intermingled throughout were some throwbacks to the 80's; a glitter top butterfly accentuating an ample "rack" and on some enough makeup to cover the cracks on Mt. Rushmore!

But those were the extremes. To be fair and honest, most ladies and men wore business attire. Clean, respectable, plain...which if you think about it all that would be left to decipher was physical attraction, and for that the eyes were piercing through steel that night. As i walked throughout the room, they moved to an frow, methodically, robot like, looking for a glance, a stare, a smile, a nice ass or what appeared to be a kind soul, round face, big wallet!

But those eyes were restless, pacing, never slowing down....how could you, in certain sections u had to keep moving as the crowd would have certainly pushed you along. The safe zones were the corners, or sides, where museum stantions cam dangerously close to setting off an alarm. The blob of people were taking over. As i squeezed here and there i overheard both men and women yapping the following; "if i feel i just dont like him, i'll just say so"......"this last guy i dated, he was such an ass"....."she was the most beautiful woman i had ever met"....."i'll do anything to impress her" etc...etc...

So with all this comotion, how does one stop and chat, have a decent conversation if they don't know the Cesar Becerra "high-heels-are-ahurtin-chair-trick", well there were some crafty singles in the audience. One group of girls (two Canadians and one up-state new yawker) i called the Tapas Trio (cuz they were munchin on Tapas) explained; "well, one guy just reached out and grabbed my arm"...."another had recognized me from a Salsa Club i went to"...."and one guy just spun off from one group and began talking to me."

But no one beat veteran Mick Cusimano, who had the "mother" of all ice breakers. A caricaturist by trade, Mick just simply begins drawing women he's attracted to. Marker and sketchbook in hand, right there, without shame. "Some get spooked, others curious, and many think its cool, i even have some who ask me to draw them.....'please!!!!" I asked Mick if any of this is working...dod he have any successful long term relationship offshoots that began with his drawing scheme? "Well i've had lots of short term brief relationships, but it does work!"

Back at the plush leather chair i rescued Linda from the high-heel blister fairy. "Is anybody sitting here?" asked Linda, a nurse and mother of two who recently divorced. "Plop right down" i said and i confessed i was here to do a story, which put her at ease. She turned out to be a fountain of knowledge, quotes and open minded insight. Echoing on the example i shared with her about Mick's ice breaker routine, Linda says; "You know i give any shy person big time credit for just coming out here. It's not easy."

Linda's new found freedom and cautionary actions to keep far away from future impossible situations means that she is carefull not to "take it personally" if a man in her life cannot commit full time to her. "I'm dating one guy, who is great but he's got alot going on in his life. And still he wanted to know if i was going to be monogomous in terms of dating just him.....I never answered him. And he never asked again. I have two dates coming up and i'm gonna take them!"

The big cloud hanging in the air that night was one of options....and keeping them open. Which really i think defines the new dating scene. A book and website called www.quirkyalone.com echoes the same sentiment Linda and others in that room that night. Both men and women know that they don't necessarily need the other to survive or even be happy, at least they dont need to RELY on somebody exclusively for that. That is a major change from the past. Gone are the damsel in distress days. Gone are the wooing, swooning over a Cary grant type man with power and money. Sure its here and there but for the majority of the folks i saw that night, in a blink of an eye, they were making mega judgement calls about whether it is worth it or not....to make that first move....take a closer step....reach out that hand...smile and say; "Hi, my name is Cindy" or "Name is Ralph and your name is?"

Which brings us full circle to the tale of Angie and Jesse (found at my other blog www.globenotes.com/worldwalker), the couple who saw each other about once every 4 years but never connected until the last....and then got married! How did Jesse know instinctively and why did Angie fight it. Or did Angie's fighting it make Jesse work harder to prove himself. Or....was it just meant to be....and there was nothing either one could do to prevent it. To tell ya the truth...i dont know...and i dont think anyone can prove it either way, which is why for some people, no amount of Renoirs and Manet's can make the magic happen and why someone down the line will be recounting the museum/meat-market tale of how they met at The Boston Museum of Fine Art on a cold day in January.

Who knows they might even have a black marker drawing in a sketch pad as a souvineer from that very same night!

Cesar Becerra
Boston, MA

Some of u have had problems sending comments so please feel free to send comments to cesarwalks@yahoo.com

Image notes; The two small banners are from dating sites that promote singles events and on-line dating matches. The model like figures lady in blue top and lumber jack looking guy are a stark contrast to two actual non-blond, non-hunk posting photos of real life singles looking to meet others. The St. Catherine El Greco painting that hung next to the band and Tapas station overlooked the entire scene only few got the irony. And an evening photo of the Boston Museum of Fine Art where the hottest singles event in Boston takes place each first friday of each month, 15 bucks plus extra for booze and tapas. People watching, rejections, and potential hook-ups/spouses.....free of charge and....PRICELESS!

Babies-R-(All of)-Us! My friends bring little people into big world.

2005-12-25T12:47:00.000-08:00

A-ga-ga-goo-goo! A-ga-ga-goo-goo!

Ahhh yes, babies. Little cute, cuddly, chubby little babies. You know the ones, those mini-humans who manage to steal our hearts and later our wallets. Well, atleast that is what i hear. And i have to trust my sources cuz they are parents and i am not.

For the record, i have always loved children but i have never had a deep burning desire to have them. That is a level of responsibility that frankly dwarfs any Appalachian Trail hike or Worldwalk i can come up with. I don't even know where to begin to fathom how much a bringing in a little creature into this world would impact my life. That might sound selfish, but it is the echoeing sentiment of all three new parents i interviewed for this essay.

All three are very close friends. Infact one is my best female friend from high school (she and her husband {we'll call them Bonnie and Clyde} requested that i keep their names confidential - you know CIA/Spy thing- if i told ya, i'd have to take u out!) from high school, the other my best male friend David (and his wife Katie) from my early childhood and the last are new friends (Jason and Mercedes) that i have just met a year and a half ago. All of which gave birth to babies just this past year and all have had their lives impacted in a big big way. That is no surprize.

Bonnie (of Bonnie and Clyde) who last summer gave birth to Gabe, correctly pinned me as to my assesment of kids; "i know u dont want them". I was stunned, yet Bonnie is and always has been brutally honest with me. And she is right. Its not that i don't love them its just that they are the ultimate in responsibility. And as my ex said recently, "you dont want anything to do with responsibility", i can agree with that as well but i think i'll add in the thought that i firmly believe that not taking on responsibility is not necessarily a bad thing.

I mean kids are an ultimate extreme and no one will argue with the fact that u should not bring in any kids to the world if you are not ready to do so. But on another level, i think society frowns or looks oddly at those of us that have little responsibility. "Choice" is what we built this country on and at times the very choice of NOT getting involved in new ventures, whether its a home, big job or kids can come back to bite u hard in the ass. As far as it reflects social standing and whether u are even considered an adult till u take on responsibilities that others have...or even responsibilities that our society says u must or strongly SHOULD be taking on.

The joys and pain of parenthood has been written about extensively. And now the joys and pain of Childless-ness (yes, even Childfree folks have there own book) have also been written about in a new book by Madelyn Cain called The Childless Revolution; What it means to be Childless Today. Course her book touches on the controversial if not awkward attitude society puts on folks that simply do not or cant have kids. But particularly those women that are ostracized when they say "i simply have no interest in having kids!"

Blasphemy Right! How could they possibly say that. I mean, you know, babies are like cute, cuddly and really harmless. And besides, all women should have that biological clock thingie tick-tockin so loud that they will stop at nothing to have a baby. Well that might have been so in the 50's or 60's but the sexual revolution, the pill and a changing workforce have changed all that and the biological clock of yesteryear has been replaced with a re-calibrated one that allows first for a full career, financial stability and the luxury of even deciding whether or not to have a child. But in rare occassions, u will find the old school tradition still living on.

While you mull that over and before i get to my unofficial poll of all three new parents and their outlooks, let us first study the world baby will be coming into. Namely the brand-ladden world of Baby Inc. Or more importantly the plethora of catered-to-ur-baby-infant-toddler-child-preeteen-teen-young adult-products, services and messages that seem to be everywhere you look. The truth is i dislike the marketing towards kids as consumers (and what it turns those kids into) than the idea of having kids. There is a difference. I just might not be explaining it in the best possible way. Take for instance.....

Baby's-R-Us, Gap for Kids, and a plethora of small boutique high end baby stores. The onslaught of magazines such as Child, Parenting etc.. I picked up a copy of Child Magazine recently and the product and product advertisements are just bleeding through each and every magazine. There is almost no editorials, and if there are, well they are all product related.

OK, since i have picked on Child Magazine, i figured i'd open up a few pages of the latest issue. Hmmmm, lets see; Two page full ad from www.hannspree.com which featured a plasma TV screen enhancement that turns yur kids plasma TV (hello, do kids really need plasma screen TV's) into a socer ball, fire engine, walking crab! Their motto is "flat screens should be fun screens".

Ultra sheek strollers like the sexy "gecko" (www.bugaboo.com) battle it out with the techno-nerdy "orbit" (baby-outfitters.com) to see who can have the hottest wheels for baby. never mind that in a few years baby will begin to outgrow such pricey (the orbit goes for $899 - yikes! can you say put that money in an account for college!) high tech devices which in reality were just meant to push a 5 to 20 lb human on a sidewalk. We're not going off roading people! Besides either company doesnt even call it a stroller, the orbit is really a "baby transport system!"

Well if i'm gonna spend that type of money its got to be with some more important child must-have (facetious alert!) it would have to be with an "Indesign Custom Door" for baby's room. Oh yeah baby, here's a must-have. For something like 300 bucks you can have a decorated door with a Disney Charachter, sports scene, or whatever else floats yur childs boat, laminated and heat shrinked to a high end door. Whatever happend to giant posters, or a plastic name plate? I think they topped out at 2 or 3 bucks. Its not good enough anymore to simply spend a ton on making the room look just right but we have to start before we even enter. With a custom, knock-em-dead door design!

Child magazine's sub title or mission statement is "raising kids with smarts and style". I guess they really mean smart consumers with enough style sense to go bankrupt. But c'mon folks, the kids arent reading these magazines, its intended to sway the adults. To speak to their desires, fears, competitive nature etc...The cover pieces that month were "throwing the perfect baby shower", "decorating ideas for halloween", "kids fashion report" (well ya gotta know how to dress them dont-cha?). If the editorial wasn't pushing consumerism enough, the ads kept on the pressure; Timberland Kids; "never too young for timberland adventures", Wonder Bread; "whole grain white bread" (that is bleached white! - to fool ur little one into thinking he/she is eating white bread cuz God knows we cant get them to eat healthy, their kids, we're adults, obviously they are in charge, so we gotta trick them, thank God for....take it in slowly again...Whole Grain WHITE BREAD that isnt whole grain looking but bleached white!"

Course there were the ads that simplify raising a child. Cuz its work folks. I wouldn't know but all parents agree. Anyhow, to help out with the day to day labor there is Boppy! www.boppy.com which is a sorta a c-shaped pillow. Never mind that u can probably rig one up at home. This is no ordinary pillow, though its original intent was to help mommy out when breast feeding or bottle feeding in a comfortable position using the pillow to place the baby in just the right position., the manufacturers of Boppy claim that its uses are almost limitless; "for nursing, excercizing, lounging, sitting, smiling" at Boppy "we have a soft spot for ur baby". Yes the makers of Boppy knew that if word got out that this product was only for feeding....well...you know, it would have only sold a few units.

No todays baby products have to be multi-faceted and definately multi-use, so i can see nursing and maybe lounging but "smiling", "lounging" and "sitting" are these not natural acts that baby does without a 40 dollar pillow! But of course my argument is futile cuz the "Boppy" is the #1 product moms say they couldnt live without. And #6 was diapers!

And if you think the pressure is only coming from tchotchkie companies peddling baby wares how bout the fear ladden insurance companies like Nationwide Insurance which ran an ad featuring a couple in front of a church. Innocent enough right. But wait, follow directions, fold over and whala! the entire right and left sides of the church come to gether to form a baby bottle, and even the copy changes to read; "life is full of changes. it comes at u in stages, prepare urself with life insurance and u can handle anything!"

State Farm chimed in a few pages later with a cute kid looking at dead fish, with the caption; "life doesnt always go as planned so its good to be ready"...and lastly the very next page found the Life and Health Insurance Foundation ran a page with a girl with a long face; "Dorsey's father felt a tingling in his arm, the diagnosis, brain tumor, 6 months later he was dead..."

Gee thanks, we just went through the aggonizing, gut wrenching process of bringing the kid INTO the world, now we'd better prepare for our exit. Life and death is never closer. At least in the marketing of products to new parents. Think of all the safety gizmos they push on us.

Jason and Mercedes have the "Mobi" video monitor unit. For 200 or so bucks u can monitor everything baby is up to next door, or downstairs, while u take care of other business. This is not meant as a jab, i love those two, but in the past, or maybe a simpler age...mom's (mostly) just watched over baby. Mom really had nothing else to do. In a way this is both a cleverly marketed product to the multi-tasking and very busy parents of the modern day. They both work. Now they have a new job raising Nick. but Nick takes up lots of time. The moments they can catch with a bit of free time to catch up on household chores, extra projects and down time...are all made the more easier with the "Mobi".

Course i suspect another valid concern.....call it a fear factor. One that a couple like Jason and Mercedes have a right to be concerned about. Before Nick blessed them with his presence, Mercedes suffered a misscarriage. Which also means Jason suffered as well. My heart still pains for them and i remember the chill that went up my spine when i (in a happy huff of a moment over the phone was stopped in my tracks) heard the sad news.

Parents, even before kids are born are endowed with not only great responsibility but a high, high level of emotional risk. As bad as it was, they tried again. A few months later, she was pregnant! "Hey" said Mercedes "some people cant even get pregnant! This was important to us." I know she was just making a point but Mercedes expressed later just how much joy and sense of purpose Nick has brought them; "If i had to go through 10 misscarriages, to get what i get from Nick, i would have."

This brings up another factor of the risks or u could say the incredible courage that parents have to bring children into the world. We've all heard the phrase. "He/She is a 7 pound, HEALTY, baby girl/boy!" But what if the baby comes into the world with a dibilitating desease such as good friend Xiomara Pages who gave birth to Sandra who was diagnosed with Rett Syndrome nearly 5 years after her birth! Rett Sydrome, a neurological disorder that affects physical mobility and profound mental health issues, is primarily found in girls. There is no cure, not even a clear answer as to how it happens.

That's not only a heavy burden but a cross to bear! Or is it. Pages, a writer and poet has struggled, sacrificed (more than u think or can imagine) and has had to work hard to keep Sandra (now 25 and bedridden for nearly 20 years) alive. And not only physically alive, but emotionally and in an often overlooked component...alive in terms of remembrance (to family members and friends, who'd like to forget or think it easier to ignore the realities). "Many times they forget, I cannot leave Sandra alone, so i get criticized about not making it to certain family events, especially on holidays!"

She communicates Sandra's thoughts through her words, which over the years have been published in three books. Sandra only got to exhale a few mono-syllable words (tata, mama, papa...before at age 3 months she loss the ability to talk or communicate verbally) "Silence in this case is not Golden! I came up with a concept where i bring to life letters i write to Sandra and her responses to them so that people may know the Sandra i know."

Pages is the ultimate mom. In the face of sheer frustration, she sees her having Sandra as a blessing. "Life, is precious. What form it comes in is besides the point." I choose to include Sandra and Xiomara's story because where as other babies grow up, Sandra in a sense is a life long kid. The point is that it happens. Bringing "baby" into the world is very risky, and anything could happen. But Xiomara is the ultimate example of unconditional love. Wheww...

Wow. This baby stuff is real powerful stuff. I'm a pretty passionate guy but i felt in talking to all three couples that having and raising a kid is like no other high out there. And there are no substitutes; Bonnie (of Bonnie and Clyde) adds "The only way to get that experience is to have an actual baby....nothing comes close." Dave and Katie add, "It certainly impacts your life. You think first of your little one before yourself. It actually impacts every decision u make, from what car to buy to how much time to allocate just going out shopping, not to mention sleep!"

My quest to dig deeper into the "new millennium" child came thanks to a quote from a recent New York Times story called "Kids Gone Wild" which centered on the effects of raising a child in an environment of high stress, dual wage earners and precious little time left for raising baby right.

Throw in the increasingly strong force of materialism and "keeping up with the joneses" and you have a new challenge in raising a kid. Our kids now are targets for marketers where years ago they were just kids.

The quote was from Dan Kindlon, a Harvard child phychologist and author of "Too Much of a Good Thing; Raising Children in an Indulgent Age" Though to some of you who are disciplinarians it might sound a bit far fetched or extremist, keep in mind that a recent poll showed that 70% of American feel that kids are ruder now than they were 10/20 or 30 years ago! In the annoyances dept, they actually tie with "obnoxious cell phone users"!

"Most parents would like their kids to be polite, considerate or well behaved. But they're too tired, worn down by work and personally needy to take the task of teaching them proper behavior at home. We use kids like Prozac, people don't necessarily feel great about their spouse or their job but the kids are the bright spot in their day. they don't want to muck up that one moment by getting yelled at. They dont want to hurt.They dont want to feel bad. They want to get satisfaction from their kids. They're so precious to us - maybe more than to any generation previously. What gets thrown out the window is limits. It's a lot easier to pick their towel up off the floor than to get them away from the Play Station to do it."

There is a lot going on in that quote. I urge you to read it carefully again. Basically, we are in such a competitive age (having the right clothes for baby, the right room suite for baby, get baby into the right school, have baby succeed in sports, etc) that "parents who want their children to succeed more than anything teach them to value and prioritize achievement above all else - including other people." Kindlon adds.

Course i'm ranting and wailing against the machine that turns up the heat on child rearing. Namely the pressure to consume for one of the market's newest additions; BABY. Lets get back to the cuddly side of the equation. Take for instance little Nicky, or Nick. Cute, cuddle baby of Jason and Mercedes. To begin with that saga, u can get ur bearings right at http://www.pricebloopers.com/nick

That's right. U see Nick is a new millennium baby. One who flies through Cyber Space. Pictures, stories and updates all lovingly posted every few days thanks to Dad and his acute use of internet/web design. There are litteraly thousands of these private and not so private sites on the net, made to keep everybody near and far informed (at the very minimum, visually) of little Johnnie or Sister Sue's first baby steps, word, or even a momentous bowel movement!

Dave and Katie feel like they have the most photographed child in America, and i believe it, it seems like every week i get periodic electronic/digital photo albums zapped to me. If i put them all together i bet i can flip through each one like a flip/photo book and literally see DJ (David Jacob is their son's name) growing each and ever millimeter! Course exacerbating the issue is the fact that David is not only a proud first time father but a photographer as well.

Holding all these babies was as nerveracking or even more so than some highway miles i sometimes have to do to piece together dirt roads to country lanes on my worldwalk. I generally request a couch. Sit down and then have the baby brought to me. I'm handling some pretty important precious cargo! As i sit and await the little ones, the fathers or mothers are usually carrying them willy nilly, flipping them around, grabbing arms as if the kid is a raggedy anne doll. Course they do so gingerly, and i have heard rumors that these little ones are less fragile than they look.

When they land Gabe tries to take off my eye glasses, DJ just sleeps and Nick stares inquisitively into my eyes. They are funny little creatures. They will one day be making major decisions, making big mistakes, climbing insurmountable mountains. But for now, they stare, sleep, eat, burp and grab and touch anything in sight. And oh yes, they use lots of diapers! (All three couples were astonished at the cost of that detail.)

What struck me most is the bravery of the parents. Especially in this day and age, with all the world's problems, with all the pressures they will face. With all the things they will have to learn. I have to admit, i'm just not that brave. Though many people (the three parents included) think i'm brave walking around the world. I'd have to say my walk pales in comparison! Parenting; the ultimate adventure!

The End
Happy Holidays to all. I am currently in Miami for X-mas, next heading to New York to train our new guide at EFT tours. I'll try staying warm. Comments on this story in particular are most welcome. Even if u are not a parent. Oh yes, photo note. Photos with me with black hat holding baby. That is DJ, Dave and Katie's boy. And with Green Hat, that is little "Nick-y", Mercedes and Jason's boy. All other photos are Nick as well. Gabe, Bonnie and Clyde's kid, is not pictured but i'll tell ya now, that's one cute kid. But its a toss up who is the most cute little boy. That is impossible to tell!

Cesar

A friend passes on; Frank Pasquarella, founder of Frankies Pizza of Miami

2005-12-11T01:31:00.000-08:00

A long journey ended yesterday as the King of south Florida pizzarias passed away at the age of 80. Frank Pasquarella might have left this world due to a weak heart but the love he eminated, slice by slice from his Bird Road institution (frankies Pizza) will continue to fill hearts and bellies for years to come.

Established on Valentines Day in 1955 inside the original Norman Bros. Produce Store on 90th Avenue and Bird Rd, Frankies Pizza quickly began serving the bustling post war communities of western Dade County. Millions grew up on the square slices of heaven that Frank and Doreen pasquarella began baking after discovering a booming market after their Honeymoon.

The two Stuebenville, ohio sweethearts took Frank's Italian mother's recipe (still a closely guarded secret to this day) and made it a national phenomenon, winning accolades from as high as Bon Apetit Magazine, who named frankie's Pizza one of the nations top 10 Gourmet pizzas.

But Frank and Doreen never forgot their local roots and over the years many a little league team wore the Frankies Logo and scores of Southwest High students entered the workforce with a job at the 20 by 30 foot simple stucco building that is now surrounded by a metropolis.

I was honored to be invited into their family when in 1994 i was able to shadow Frankie with a boxy VHS camera for the entire year before the 40th anniversary. what i discovered was a salty fellow from another era who brought smiles to many with his quick wit and a personal touch seldom seen in our modern age. It was not unusual for Frank to stop cold turkey baking pies, folding boxes or ringing up orders to debate UM Football, share a sip of Cuban coffee or extinguish a crying infant's wail with a tiny slice of pizza.

Ten years ago, Frank was unstoppable. But a decades long battle with two debilitating strokes made the 50th anniversary a nail-biter. It was anyones guess if he would make it. He did. Wheelchair and trusty nurse in tow, Frank greeted hundreds last summer as the Golden anniversary of his shop brought die hard fans from as far away as Montana to celebrate. Though unable to talk or move, well wishers could see his beautiful white eyebrows lift in recognition of old friends.

I remember a few young children being introduced to Frank by their mommies that day. Puzzled and of course oblivious to who this man was, one small child prepared to wail but just before scrunched face turned to full out kiniption, Franks gentle gaze pacified the little one and a smile overtook both parties. Come to think of it the same thing occurs when you bite into a slice of Frankies.

here is a piece that came out today in the Miami Herald

http://www.miami.com/mld/miamiherald/news/obituaries/13386417.htm

also see www.frankiespizzaonline.com this is a website that i helped develop and was designed by good friend Jason Friedman.

Twas the night before Mall Maddness! Black friday and "..revolutionizing the means of consumption."

2005-11-26T12:48:00.000-08:00

The Muzak was piping "i'm dreaming of a white X-mas" ever so gently over the nearly 100 acres of abandoned mall space. Instead of the stammer of thousands of feet and pandemonium there was only the sound of a million gallos of water cascading over the rocks of "The Falls" shopping mecca in south Dade County (Miami) Florida.

I was meeting a friend and we were desperately trying to find a coffee house that was open or any place for that matter, but to no avail. All was quiet. All was closed on Thanksgiving Day...this day before "Black Friday"; the biggest shopping day of the year. A well oiled capitalistic American phenomenon. Where national holiday turns into a consumer holiday. Though in my opinion, its celebrants are the corporations raking it all in. More on that later.

At the Apple Store, little nano's (the new mini I-pod like music players) sat glowing in the palm of a gingerbreadman's hands. A sultry 2-D Victoria Secret model peered out of another window sporting little else than a Santa Hat made me wonder if they "photo-shopped" the hat onto an old ad campaign to save a few bucks on the window display and maximize the profits on the "unmentionables"? Hey, i'm a reporter, and observer.....and so i observed for a few minutes. Hmmm, definately wasn't on her head when the original photo was taken! But hey nice frilly lacy thingie, wonder if they make that in white lace...oh um Sorry, where was i.

Oh yes, so my friend and i decided, lets meet at the Mall, see what's brewing. should be curious. I'm glad i did so, for its calmness and "high noon" abandonment inspired me to observe the opposite the next day and trek to Dadeland Mall to partake and experience (with new eyes) this most joyous gift grabbing and credit card swiping holiday. So for those that might be in shock right now, especailly those that kmow i hate malls; Cesar A. Becerra willfully went and visited Dadeland Mall on the day after Thanksgiving.....and (thankfully) lived to tell the tale. Trust me, this was not an easy task, nor was i ecstatic to be there.

First challenge as u can imagine was the parking situation. Which was horrendous! No surprize here. This is Miami, and at the mall on top of that. I wont bore u with the details or give precious space to describing finding a spot. In all it took about 45 minutes to actually find a spot, on the roof of a 4 story parking structure that was as devoid of life and good design (then again most parking garages are) as they come. You'd think that if the lifeblood of transporting yur goods is attached to the automobile then they'd atleast make an effort to beautify, enlarge (as bad i hate to promote larger parking areas - but the narrow turns are just hellatious) and make parking a more pleasant experience.

Actually, this brings up a good point associated with the book i just read by George Ritzer called Enchanting A Disenchanted World; Revolutionizing the Means of Consumption. By the way, this is the holy grail of books to read if u want to see "how far the rabbit hole goes" (line that Morpheus tells Neo in The Matrix) in relation to how malls work.

One day this very issue of parking will be used to lure more customers into the mall. Some mall developer will (or already has) design a more pleasant parking experience that will make the desicion to go visit their mall as opposed to going to an older one where parking is still a hassle.

This phenomenon as Mr. Ritzer points out is the very reason that all malls and other "cathedrals of consumption" are almost at the moment they get built or newly renovated or expanded....are completely obsolete. The customers/consumers eventually grow tired of the very thing that brought them into that store. Once cutting edge, a new concept grows old. And corporate America, particularly mall developers have become very keen at realizing that they constantly have to out do themselves just to "keep em comin". Unfortunately they have to spend million of dollars each year, use up countless more natural resources, sometimes even cut down green areas....all to bring us a new shopping experience!

Several case in points. And surprizingly "ripped" from the pages of his books were details found particularly at Dadeland on the day after Thanksgiving when i visited;

The children's area was bustling with a soft play area and comfortable seating for adults- in fact hotel lobby like couches...COUCHES! for the adults to rest and relax.....so that, so that... parents dont get burned out by kids crying, getting cranky. So that...they will stay longer in the mall....not to admire mall architecture or buy Cinnebuns...but to spend more money in the stores! Buy more products, be exposed and plant more seeds of interest in other products to buy on the next trip.

This day was so important that the mall felt they did not want to take a chance on little Sue or Bobby having a melt-down so they hired three costumed faries (best description i can muster, anyhow one of them had wings - please see link below for rest of photos of my mall excursion) to hand out balloon animals to the (soon to be "formerly cranky") kids. Mission accomplished, little Bobby has his balloon and mom can go buy more stuff to put under the tree.

The only area where sunlight peeked in was in the giant food court. This is by design so dont be fooled. In the land of malls they'd love u to loose track of time soo... around the main stores u will be in an environment where u will forget what time it is, (i.e. no sunlight) because yu really cant see outside...much like the Las Vegas casino environment. This is of course to lull u into thinkin u've been there only a few minutes, meanwhile 8 hours have gone by and the sun has long since set. But in the food court, they'd like u to be in an environment to re-fresh yur batteries. Be around nature. There will generally be an indoor palm or two. And of course lots of caffeine to get u thru the next part of the shopping experience.

There are no readily seen or centraly based clocks anywhere in the mall. This of course goes hand in hand with the whole loosing an entire day looking at gadgets, clothing and other related tcotchkies. The only clock i did find was at Macy's but thta didn't count cuz it was merely a decorative one projected on the floor, plugging away at the biological shopping clock of 24, 23, 22...days till X-mas! And anyway it had the wrong time so it represented a double whamy of misdirection.

Every year as we all know and hear, there is a major toy that comes out that everybody just has to have. And this year its the X-box. Only someone was crafty (or sinister) enough not to manufacture too many cuz there has been a "run on the bank"for those white boxed little suckers. Now i'm told thru the rumor mill that there is another version in another color but my inbox is full right now and truthfully i could care less. That's not the case with the throngs of folks snapping these babies up. You just cant get them. Anywhere. And if u do, you'll pay - from what i hear on a recent ebay auction - nearly 5,000 clams to bring one home. Hello folks they sell for only $350 bucks!

Well "Fernando", an industrious Cuban American student i found at Dadeland that day understands this law of supply and demand quite well and was willing to take advantage of this situation so he put up his own X-box store. Right in the middle of the mall where even those small boutique "carts" can fetch $3,000 a month in rent!

But Fernando was smarter than that. Fernando only had one X-box. So it didn't make sense to pay Dadeland Mall $3,000 dollars for a space to sell his one X-box. So Fernando, clever boy that he is, took advantage of the mass pandemoneum of Black Friday, the day after Turkey Day, and he plopped down a small white sign Fernando had printed on his HP Printer (maybe less than 5 cent investment, plus the $350 x-box) that said "X-Box, $1,000" and innocently placed it at his feet. Fernando, the rebel X-box store owner for a day, turned a $650 dollar profit from a small white box that everybody "just has to have!"

Well after my 3 hours at the mall, i just "had to go". And began making my way out of Dadeland Mall with a profit of 2 sample bites of a pretzel from Anie Q's, (i didn't pay for it so i'll just estimate its street value of maybe 10 cents) one toothpick sized bite of garlic chicken (again a free sample probably worth a quarter) from Panda King and the knowledge that it is indeed possible to enter one of the most profitable "cathedrals of consumption" without spending a penny. And that lesson is indeed....."priceless" in every sense and irony of the word.

Cesar, Signing off
Currently in Atlanta
Finishing Marji's Move

Notes on PHOTOS; here are some captions for above photos, sorry i have not been able to figure out how to put them under photos so bear with me.

1. A bemused (think that is a word) or stunned husband waits for wife, thinking, "i could be watching football now!"

2. Lots of encouraging signs that make it seem that this is the only day EVER that u can buy this much crap for these insane prices.

3. Hoards of Folks walking down Dadeland Mall, one of the most successful malls in America. Located in South Dade County (Miami) over the years the mall has undergone several radical transformations in line with the phenomenon that the customer gets bored - or rather his/her attention will go to another mall with some new fangled gimick - really quickly!

4. Macy's clock. Wrong time. Meant to lull u into thinking u've only been inside 5 minutes...meanwhile ur kids are at home starving and yu've more than blown ur "nest egg"

5. Me at Brookline/Brooks, whatever that damn store is that sells all those gadgety devices that end up in my garage sales. In anycase this massage chair retails for just about $2,000. This line of chairs -once just a bit player in the stores inventory - has become so popular and so popular that the company that manufactures them actually bought BOUGHT the actual retail store that sells them...hook line and sinker! Unbelievable. Are we that stressed out that we need to simultaneously sit down -in itself its own relaxing replenishing excercize - and be massaged at the same time!

6. Another sign. Buy, but buy right now please!

7. Notice the palms and sunlight in the food court area. Food courts are meant to curb ur appetite....so you dont....Leave the MALL. So u can turn around and buy more stuff. PERIOD. They are not a convenience to the customers they are a convenience to the stores inside the mall and their cash registers!

8. This poor guy was taking a nap. But wait upon closer inspection notice this is not yur typical park or mall bench, nope....this is a hotel lobby like plush couch. Hmmmm, someone wants yu to be refreshed quickly so you can.....yu guessed it....SHOP, SHOP, SHOP!

9. PANTY RAID! Always wanted to say that. And here it is. Obviously the girls that hit this stand were a pack of wild teenagers with absolutely no manners. But its Black Friday, who cares, lets leave everything a mess. In the end, these big sales turn people into animals....in a way, if u dont get ur favorite pink panties...the world will end!

10. Ahhh yes the joys of finding a spot to park.

11. Who are these girls. I mean, we should have a contest to try and name or describe what it is they are representing. Mall faries? Pink boa like butterflies? You tell me. Ahh but there purpose is solid. Make those cranky kids forget they were cranky, sleepy or God forbid....bored! Kids....c'mon its the mall, lets get with the program. This is supposed to be fun. Mommy and daddy gotta shop!

12. Another poster plus it matches the ad campaign in the local paper. Actually a national campaign. This was after all an unofficial national holiday!

13. "Everyone has a Gift to Give" What does this mean? Note or question to Macy's. Hypothetically speaking... even though yu might have a gift to give, should yu really give it? What if u dont want to give a gift, or dont have one to give, or opt not to give to each and every person u know? Just asking.

14. More folks jamming the isles at Macy's inside Dadeland Mall.

15. "Fernando" our rougue non-renting rebel X-box vendor!

Fast Dog/Slow Ride. Why i leave the driving to Greyhound!

2005-11-23T12:51:00.000-08:00

I am a world walker, yes, but i do plenty of travel in other ways. I love the train. Especially long overnights from Miami to DC or New York. Yes overnight! It takes nearly 24 hours to go what normally will take 2 hours by plane. So am i crazy? Well i don't think so. An even slower means of travel is by bus. But at a rate of 60 miles per hour, you gotta understand that is like rocket travel to me. I'm used to moving at only 2 to 3 mph by foot, still my preffered way of travel. At that rate, i don't miss a thing. There is nothing like plodding along, slowly crossing many miles of open spaces before i enter a town, city or metropolis.

But since i take copious amounts of breaks (in fact i'll take any excuse for a break) to work, see nearby communities, or just chill, i usually have to get to those locations by bus. That means Greyhound.

Most people recoil when i tell them how i'm coming to see them. I should say, most people i visit or jobs i take (whether it be a tour, estate sale, etc) aren't the type of folks that usually even would step on the bus, or haven't stepped on one for many years. I think they think its sort of below them in some way. That, there was a time in their lean and struggling days, that that form of travel was OK. Its too bad because they are missing out on what i consider to be the last real form of travel left.

For the record, i'm on planes quite a bit, so its not that i'm actively ignoring plane travel, its just i fly when i have to. As the lead guide for Educational Field Trips, for nearly six months of the year i am blessed with one of the most incredible jobs around. Get this. Not only do i get paid (handsomely i might ad) to travel, but they pluck me from the worldwalk route and fly me to either Boston, DC, New York, Philly or Florida to conduct 3 to 7 day tours where my every attraction, meal, hotel and entertainment (yes even Broadway plays) is paid for. This is all on top of my salary! Yes i know, i have it good.

So most of the time i fly to and from my walk (i always go back and pick up where i left off) on any one of the major airlines. Its sorta mission impossible like. I'll get a call or an e-mail from my bosses Mary, Patty or Monika (i call them Charlie's Angels - even though there is no Charlie) and "if i choose to accept" (my mission) i just show up at a nearby airport where electronic tickets are waiting for me at the counter. I love the extremes of my life and at times have been known to finish a section of the walk, get to a payphone in some small town, call a cab, be whisked off to the airport and board a flight....all within two hours of my finishing my walk. It gets better. When the plane touches down, i have been just 5 minutes away from meeting my intended group of 40 to 50 middle or high schoolers at a gate right next to mine and begin a tour. The group will have no knowledge that just three hours ago i was on some country lane in rural Georgia.

Back to flying. And yes eventually to my point as to why i prefer bus travel. It seems to me that for some reason, folks that fly are a bit to polished for my taste, a bit to.....how shall i say it....guarded, quiet, to themselves. Not all of course but many. Their patience level obviously is short too. They would never make it on a Greyhound Bus trip. I've seen folks loose it at a gate if a plane is gonna be 3 minutes late from taking off whereas on the bus delays are legendary or just part of the reality of "leave (ing) the driving to us!"

Sure its a two hour flight to New York from Miami or 5 hours across the U.S. but some folks don't really calculate the time and (sometimes hassle) of getting to an airport. Or the delays i have witnessed. On one occassion i was going from JFK to Miami. The flight was cancelled. I took the airline up on another flight from Newark, NJ, they said they'd provide a shuttle to get us there. So we boarded. Well in route we hit the worst traffic jam i've ever experienced. We were late of course to the other flight. Then the next flight out wasn't for another 4 hours. I bitched of course, got a refund, but by the time i got to Miami from the New York area, nearly 21 hours had elapsed for what should have been a 2 hour flight.

OK, that is an extreme case. I admit. But it does illustrate that at times, the fastest way to go, can sometimes match the slowest. Besides i like to read, i like to think and i like having time to do both. LOTS OF TIME! So with the bus, i can just board, get as comfy as i can, and read to my hearts content! I once read no fewer than 3 books on a 32 hour trip from Boston to Miami. And to tell you the truth, the time just evaporated. No it is not for everybody. But it works for me. Other great pluses are price; (I've been known to get 50 dollar deals from New York to Atlanta), easy access to stations (most are located centrally in major cities and of course in the middle of nowhere on my worldwalk route) and major entertainment (the crux of my argument below).

Ah yes, the real reason i prefer long distance, slow travel by Greyhound is dollar for dollar its one of the most colorful experiences you can have while travelling in the U.S. And some instances are dooseys. All provided free of charge, not by Greyhound, but by the very riders who hop aboard!

Ah, yes, the riders. Most folks who hear i just came off the bus, drop their voices 2 octaves, lean in, look around and say; "aren't there funny, weird people on Greyhound" (clearly meaning phychos, former prisoners and just plain low income scum - to be honest). I get this all the time. They are shocked when i say, its my most prefered way to travel. They just dont get it.

So i begin telling them of all the moments that just can't be replicated at 30,000 feet. Like the time the bus broke down outside of St. Augustine on my way to Jacksonville to resume a segment of the walk. What looked like an annoying disaster turned into a beautiful moment the likes of which i dont think anybody's ever seen in many years. One by one we filed out to see the bus driver's head totally engulfed inside the engine compartment. This did not look good. "We're gonna be here for a while", someone mumbled "so we better make the most of it!" Another person stepped off the bus with a big blanket, spread it out on a grassy embankment right there along the small highway. One by one, at first reluctantly, folks began sitting down. Someone made a dash across the street and bought some Kentucky Fried Chicken. Others shared cell phones to tell loved ones they'd be late. Yet others volunteered to watch the kids that were on the bus, play in a nearby field. Everybody began sharing stories of back home, hurricanes and family. We bonded. Here we were having a pic-nick on the side of the road in the sade of an oak tree, on an honest to God blanket the size of Missouri.

Who has pic-nicks any more? Who has pic-nicks with virtual strangers. Who has patience levels that rival open heart surgeons? None of this exists anymore in the hurry up and wait world of plane travel. This type of bonding doesn't happen in the Hertz rental car world. It happens on Greyhound though and it happens every day.

Yes there are the weirdos. Lots of which have just plain entertained the hell out of me. Yes there are the former, just-let-out-of-jail prisoners. On one occassion i overheard two just released jail birds openly planning their next heist and theyt had just met on the bus! That conversation is one i'd like to turn into a play one day. Yes, there is even the down and out folks who's lives are hanging by a thread. Who bring u back to earth. Who inject copious doses of reality in this growingly gussied up world.

There are the mexican immigrants, shuffling back and forth from region to region as the seasons change. With their big tall hats and their thinck accents. I help them quite a bit when they seemed puzzled as to what bus to connect to.

There are the plethora of blacks who singlehandedly i suppose keep Greyhound rolling. Not only are most of the drivers black, but the handlers, ticket agents and of course riders. To understand the state of black America today - one of subjects i'm most passionate about - u must experience Greyhound. I don't know the hierchy in the upper management echelons but at the core level (on the street) this is their network. They ride. They work. They move items (Greyhound has a vast shipping business that most of America is unaware of). All of it under a banner of a skinny dog that sprints at speeds that defy logic.

But on Greyhound, nothing is quick. Nothing is fast. It's a virtual time machine back to another era. But it is in the here and now. It is the best value in the transportation circuit. As long as you are not looking for speed as your primary concern for travel. There is more to life than how quickly u can get from point A to point B. Luckily, thankfully, there is a more human alternative.

Leo, Larry and enviro-friends "entertain" global warming cause!

2005-11-21T23:14:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago while finishing a 10 mile stretch in northern Tennessee, i decided to give in to a guilty pleasure; i checkeed into a hotel room on the side of US 41. While i rested my weary feet, soaked up a hot bath and channel surfed my way into oblivion i caught a quick glimpse of Oprah Winfrey and Leonardo DiCaprio sitting along side some suit/professor guy who had a somber look on his face.

I turned off the boiling water, reached over for the remote and turned up the volume. The professor was yapping about the end of the world so it took me a while to figure out why Oprah and Leo were yapping about the end of the world but a few minutes later, Leo chimed in; "and that Oprah is why we have to begin changing our ways....we can't rely on gasolene forever...the planet depends on it!"

Oprah listened intently, the mega media mogul, who just last year gave away like 250 carbon monoxide emitting vehicles to her entire audience was singing another tune. That of environmentalist. Or was Oprah just desperate to get a big name star on her show, no matter how unpopular the topic may be. I mean c'mon, just a few months earlier a monkey-like Tom Cruise could barely be heard over the roar of several hundred screaming women as he gushed over his new fiance (Katie Holmes). Lets face it, the environment is not sexy. So if Leo wants to yap about Hybrid Cars, then Oprah's gonna let him.

Leo had two messages; change your lightbulbs and drive the new "it" car. A Hybrid. Hell, he even told Oprah, she's gotta get rid of her SUV. Oprah politely declined but said she's buy the bulbs. At 30 bucks a piece, and on a subsequent show i learned that Oprah has like 30 homes, you sorta gotta be as rich as Oprah is just to afford the switch. He also ended the show by plugging www.virtualmarch.org and www.stopglobalwarming.org as well as his upcoming special that would air some upcoming Sunday. I made a mental note and forgot about it.

Last night, while awaiting my Greyhound to Miami to see the "fam" it just so happened that i caught a glimpse of Larry David (creator of Seinfeld and star of HBO's Curb Your Enthusiasm) riding thru the streets of Las Vegas on a horse, dressed in Colonial garb yelling; "Global Warming is Coming, Global Warming is Coming, save yourself." An exhausted David was then pulled from his horse, given water and cleverly told people to head to Caesar's Palace to get the rest of the message.

This turned out to be the TV special Leo had elluded to on Oprah. That night folks like Ben Stiller, Tom Hanks, Leo himself, and a who's who of Hollywood heavy weights entertained the crowd with stand-up bits that every now and then would mention the word environment or global warming.

Inside the Greyhound Terminal, where most riders clearly were black, hispanic (mostly mexican immigrants) or some other lower income group, the TV special was almost completely ignored. Hard to do with folks that have nothing to do inside a building that is about as exciting as watching paint dry. Some glanced excitedly when they recognized a star they knew but after a few seconds would go back to polishing leather boots, pacifying bored and crying kiddies or fighting with the vending machines over a lost quarter. That is....until Cedric arrived. That is Cedric "The Entertainer", the black comedian who made a splash on the runaway hit documentary "The Kings of Comedy". What he said spoke volumes about the state of the environment, or at least what groups of people even have the time to care. But for now you need to just know that at this moment, a hush fell over the room. Folks took notice. "Hey man, look, its Cedric"...."Check it out, that's Cedric, quiet up, he's speakin"

Of all the stars, of all the millions spent on this production (in the most environmentaly unfriendly city in America, i might add), Cedric told it like it is, and his thoughts spoke volumes about the state of environmental awareness today; loosely translated here is what he said; "Now i gotta be honest, i'm still tryin to figure out why i was invited tonight, cuz Black folks, i mean lets face it, black people are the last ones to give a crap about the environment. That's because, i mean, we're just thinkin about the rent man, trying not to get shot, i mean the environment is a tough thing to focus on when u got like 10 kids runnin around the house."

It's a bit ironic that though it affects us all, the issue of global warming might be something only folks that have leisure can think about. Or better said even have the time to care about it.

Another thought crept into my mind. There at this station, folks that don't even seem to have the time to think about such problems as global warming might just be doing something more about combatting the problem than most economically advantaged parts of our population. I mean the shear act of conserving energy by sharing a vehicle to travel - and there is nothing more efficient and more environmentaly friendly that 55 people sharing a bus - is much more of a proactive step than driving hundreds of miles in your air conditioned SUV.

Now that is not to say that poor folks dont drive big cars. But i don't see (and i go Greyhound quite a bit) lots of white folk, lots of Leo DiCaprio's conserving energy either. So i don't know, it seems like a wash to me. On the one hand i see folks with lots of money, foolishly driving Humvees, building (and of course needing to consume more energy to operate) mansions that call themselves environmentalist. Oprah will reluctantly (and can afford to) change light bulbs but wont ditch her Expedition. And Hollywood will come together to bring attention to a cause that only Hollywood Heavys can bring attention to. But are folks just being entertained. Or are they listening?

The bigger question is; Does it even matter? I don't think even the experts can agree on that one. I'll have to lean towards my pessimistic side on this one. I just don't see how we can stop the runnaway train that is our modern world. We consume much more than we conserve. And because of that we'd have to radically consume a hell of a lot less to even come close to making a difference. I wonder if Leo and Oprah could have bought a mess of 30 dollar light bulbs and mailed them out, one per household, to like a small city.

I would gladly take one. But i'd have nowhere to screw it in to. But that's another story. One day, maybe i'll share my radical plan for saving the environment...for now i gotta head to the Metro Rail Station where 100,000 other poor but dedicated envirionmentalists fight for the environment in Miami as they commute, mass transit style, each and every day. In comparison, i'd mention Miami's population figure here but that would just depress you.

I'm out. I can smell the turkey now!

Mega Garage Sale on Wescott Lane

2005-11-19T22:26:00.000-08:00

Its over.. The last person strolled in at 5:45pm to buy some Christmas lights and used shoes. "I was soooo glad you were still open." said a tired but excited bear of a lady "I was driving to work when i saw your sign and at work all day, i just kept watching the clock and hoping that when i went home, you'd still be open...i just love Garage sales, i live for them."

Well she's not alone. Hundreds more people do to and despite the chilly weather (there was frost on everything in the morning - since i had pulled everything out the night before for the pre-sale) at 6:45am five cars came streaming down Wescott lane, parked and raced to be the first shoppers at what i billed on Craigslist and in an ad in the Atlanta Journal Constitution as "The Last Mega Estate Sale of the Year".

Well i probably elaborated a wee bit too much but lets face it, next week is turkey day weekend and most folks will be buying new, high end, high priced crap to haul home and put under the tree. Items that ironically will one day end up where most high end high priced crap ends up; in somebody's garage sale. Besides its too cold for Garage sale-ing beginning next week anyway. This morning barely cut it. I was out there in my regular jacket and decided it was way too nippy so i looked around and quickly donned a faux mink coat ($25 - did not sell) and a santa hat (2 bucks, and yes someone bought it right off my head), plopped down under a down blanket ($3 - sold also) and lounged on a $350 designer italian leather seat (did not sell, but might get bought on ebay) and stayed toasty warm as folks attacked the garage sale.

Its always an interesting phenomenon. The act of putting one on. Its in my blood. I'm hard wired to handle them. I love stuff. Even though i own very little. (well i once owned lots of stuff, but i think it owned me - more on that subject in the future) So now i love handling other people's stuff. I love people. I love to get them a good deal on something. But I also know how to get them to walk away with more than they originally thought they'd buy. Well its partly their fault, as they are looking for a good deal. Its quite an art form.

First of all, i never price anything. That is a recipe for disaster. If you do. And you price it too high. Someone during the sale that really wants that item, might stare down on it, say silently - in their mind - "hmmm nice but too pricey" and walk on by. Meanwhile, i have no idea that he or she is interested. If they have to ask me "how much for this" DING! i know i have an interested buyer. Before i quote the price, i immediately begin yapping about that object, history, popularity, original price is was bought for, how many times it was used....and then only then, do i price it.....then i listen and look for a facial response.

If they frown or recoil, i know that they feel its too high. If they quickly say yes, i know i probably could have gotten more for it. If they counter offer, then i'll usually go down, but always say, "if you buy some more stuff, i'll give it to ya at that price" then i will add "keep lookin around, make urself a pile, the more you get the bigger discount i'll give ya"....then the magic happens....after the 2nd or third time, they stop asking about price and begin piling up stuff. Once they are that engaged and physically involved, then they are more likely to buy it all at a pretty decent price since now, they've been both hauling stuff to their pile and protecting their pile from the other garage sale vultures.

The sun peeked out around 8:30am and the rest of the day was beautiful. Cars streamed in to the gated community (we got permission from the home owners association to keep the gates open) and parked willy nilly all over the place (some dillapitated junked out cars - the true sign of serious garage sale junkies - yes they exist and quite a breed of folk they are - were parked in driveways of pissed off neighbors, some of which came bitching out of their homes, looked at the spectacle and wished they could kick everybody out). But alas, it was an approved event, i would find the owner, get them to move the car, and 5 minutes later the entire cycle would happen again.

Ironically, on the same day of the sale, the actual house had its closing, so even the house sold. So you could make a point that even the Garage got sold that day! Throughout the day, the long rows of stuff that were both inside and (flowing like a river of post or post popular consumer junk) outside the garage, slowly, slowly, thinned out. It practically dissapeared. By nightfall, as i was separating trash from the stuff i will haul off tomorrow to Goodwill, i thought once again of the deeper meaning of this most American ritual. It still amazes me how excited people get when they are in buying mode. Hunting for a deal mode. We are a nation of shoppers. some shop in malls. some in box stores. some even shop out of the most popular of ready to open retail shops; The American (2 car) Garage!

I'm off to Miami for turkey day. See my family. Warm my ass up in the sun.

Cesar

In the land of boxes. Garage-a-sailing in the ATL; step one - empty the boxes.

2005-11-14T18:59:00.000-08:00

It was aliitle like the scene in Being John Malcovich when they find the 14th and a half floor, or whatever floor it was. Well i felt that way when i thought; "i'd better quit for the day!" I was in this little nook in the basement of Marji's grand home. Inside this storage area were litterally hundreds of boxes. all sizes. little ones from shoe boxes to old excercize equipment boxes. Sure some were full with clothes, assorted nic-nacks, etc... But the rest were empty?

It was not her fault. It is far from her fault. I used to think folks were weak, and they just couldn't possibly resist buying stuff. but the reality, as i've come to know is that the system is strong. too strong. And so we buy, without knowing why we buy. Without knowing that sometimes we buy the very same things we have squirreled away.

Anyhow more on my realizations on that subject later (trust me u'll hear about this in later blogs - its what i've been obsessed about for like the last 4 years). But the interesting thing was that, here was a room of boxes that were in a sorta like box room, tall enough for me to barely stand - and i'm pretty short - and this room exited into the garage, which in itself is another box, and that box of course is part of the house, that, from afar looks like a great big box, with little box-like windows, and...you guessed it, inside that are many rooms, which are boxes with doors.

Now don't get me wrong. I'm not against houses. And this is a really nice house. but do we need that many boxes..within boxes. I think its gotten a wee bit out of hand. Even Marji thinks so. "I'm such a different person, this house, well...it used to be me, but i've changed, and really it doesnt match who i am any more."

So she is moving. Which is where i come in. Before i assist her in moving, i'm helping her downsize and sell off some stuff. That is what the garage sale is for. And step one is to empty the boxes within the boxes. That means, closets (nasty boxes), drawers (we'll they are pretty nasty but luckily they are smaller than closets), and storage areas (like attics and basements). We'll continue the lesson in the next blog.

Bye.

Introducing Cesar Becerra, Modern day nomad, worldwalker

2005-11-13T22:07:00.000-08:00

Hi there. I've finally done it. My first blog. Been debating for like eons on whether or not to do this but here goes.

Just crossed the Kentucky border just about a few days ago and finished my 1,600th mile on my quest to circumnavigate the globe. ON FOOT! Yes, by walking. I began in Key West on Jan. 4th, 2004, on the 4th anniversary of being diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes. It changed my life. And that is the understatement of the millennium.

Yes, i'm different. A wee bit crazy. But happy and blessed to be doing so. Check out my website for that story but remember its only a part of why i'm doing this.

The rest you'll read about as the walk goes on.
Welcome to my page. Forgive my typos, gonna keep this real. Gotta garage sale to plan for this weekend in Atlanta.

If u are confused just know that i like to wear alot of hats.
I'm out...for now

Cesar