Lesvos - Dec 28-31 - Our Last Few Days in Skala

Lesvos - Dec 26 - Day Off in Skala & Molyvos

Lifeguard Bob & Platanos

Julie on NPR !!!

Christmas Party at Lighthouse Camp in Skala Sikamias

Lesvos - Dec 24

Do they know it's Christmas time at all? Remember that song? It comes to mind. Not that the refugees celebrate Christmas. It is getting rather surreal around here now as some of the volunteers welcoming refugees to shore are wearing toy antlers or Santa hats. There is such relief and happiness for most of the refugees as they enter the camp. Some, especially women and children, seem more vulnerable. Most women refugees in the Women's Tent seem to get with the program quickly and get their "new" leggings, pants, socks, shoes, shirts, pullovers, jackets, scarves, hats for themselves and their children. This morning I came into the tent and found a boy of about 8 crying and trembling violently. I went to him and stripped him of his soaking wet clothes. I don't think he appreciated this stranger man-handling him. I wrapped him in every cozy blanket I could find. He wailed. I realized that the woman next to him was his mother. She looked stunned - maybe a sort of shock. She was also wet. I saw to it that she got a change of clothes, but left the boy for the time being just to warm up. He wasn't fond of me and needed some time to himself, I thought. I would just check in with him and the trembling did stop eventually. It's a tricky thing in the women's tent because there are a lot of tiny babies and once they've had their clothes and diapers changed, their mothers need a change of clothes. I held a few babies while women changed their clothes. Some cried, but you kind of have to just let them. The women trust us and even seem to enjoy the comradery and seem reluctant to leave the tent. The children's play area is near the changing tent. It has a small tent full of stuffed animals and books. There is a small plastic slide and a furry rocking horse. This is the next stop for women and children after the changing tent. I don't know if it is a cultural thing, but the men seem to gather around the campfires, but not the women or children. Within the hour, they've made themselves at home, serving themselves tea from the large dispenser and packing their pockets with oranges and granola bars for the journey ahead. Soaking wet backpacks that were left behind, have been hanging on the olive trees to dry and anyone is welcome to take one. Information booklets written in Arabic give them some information about the process ahead. Although we have been instructed not to take pictures of the refugees out of respect for their privacy, there was a guy who asked for a selfie with me. I happily obliged. There are a lot of Scandinavian volunteers with Lighthouse and maybe I've said this before and I know one shouldn't generalize, but these people are just wonderful. They are low key, but with a sense of humor and no prima donnas among them. One can meet volunteers from so many countries here and some really wonderful people among them. Volunteers are from Norway, Sweden, Germany, Spain, Brazil, Ireland, Canada, the U.S., Switzerland, Italy and more. We all work together guided by the shift's camp manager to first make sure the refugees immediate needs are met and then later, we say and wave goodbye to them as they enter the UNHCR vans that take them to stage two. By now everything is calm and the children are all smiles playing with the small toys they've been given. At the moment, there is nothing better than having your smile and wave returned to you by refugees of all ages leaving in the van. Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.

Lesvos, Dec 23

I asked Google and confirmed that it is indeed the 23rd. This is my fourth day volunteering. Night shifts are broken into two (12-4 & 4-8am). I've been signing up for the 4am shifts and though they are supposed to end at 8am, that is just when the activity usually begins. So, I usually stay to at least noon - once most of the refugees have moved on to stage two. Each day is special and somewhat different, but it is still a blur because once the activity starts, it is constant for four hours or so. I'll start with this morning. I came to the camp at about quarter to 4. Different from the day before, there were not only volunteers around fire, but three young refugees. I was informed that a boat had come in shortly before and that there were families asleep in the tents. The three young men were similar in age (17 and 18), but different in character. To be fair, one was near nodding off, another seemed rather serious and though his English was good, he didn't seem interested in talking. The third was an entirely different story. He seemed so happy and excited. He spoke English and told us how he left his mother and two younger sisters back in Syria. He said his father was dead (We didn't ask how). He said that it is very dangerous for a man of his age in Syria because the army is desperate to recruit young men. I asked if it were Assad's army. He said there were many. The quiet young man chimed in with, "Mafia." "Mafia" was also the answer when we asked who was responsible for getting them a boat. Best I could make out, transportation is $1000. They pay with a sort of PayPal once they make it here. That keeps business flowing on the Turkish side I suppose as refugees there get word of safe passages. The trip across the water takes just over an hour. The Spanish Coast Guard (Proactiva) took them to the Greek shore as their motor had died. The happy young man said they had come upon another boat with a dead motor. I'm not sure if it's a ruse or not, because, as I understand it, by (Greek) law, the Coast Guard can only rescue boats in distress, so, at some point, it helps to be in distress, if you will. Also, regarding nationalities, the refugees I've encountered have not just been Syrian. They have been Afghani, Iranian, Pakistani and other, even Turkish. I hope I'm not releasing any secrets here. I think it probably helps to be either a Syrian or an Afghani as these have "most-favored-refugee" status. The night saw no more activity, but at dawn I heard of a large wooden boat coming to the harbor. I grabbed some thermal/mylar blankets and headed down the road with the camp doctor, Margo (from Wisconsin). A large group of volunteers from Platanos was there. Platanos is a group that does what we do at Lighthouse, but they have a political slant. They are self-proclaimed anarchists from Greece. Take that to mean what you will. But with ridiculous laws that compell refugees to break the law and cooperate with "the Mafia" to make to Greece, maybe some anarchism is in order. Walking from camp to Goji Cafe from whence I am writing this, I looked out on the water and saw the huge ferry that brings people to and from Lesvos and Turkey. My understanding is that it costs 5 Euros. How ironic is that?! Back to this morning. With mylar blanket in hand, we watched the boat come in guided by Spanish Coast Guard in the water in wetsuits. A tiny baby was handed down off the boat. It was emotional for me. If that lifeguard had slipped and that baby fell into the frigid water, it could have been the end. I asked Margo if she had seen the baby. She said she watching to see if anyone was in distress and asked me to see that the baby was responsive. The baby was bundled in his father's arms and both were content. I managed to get the lifejackets off a couple of kids and wrap them in the mylar blankets. They looked rather stunned, but once joined by the rest of their family, their comfort level increased. This group went to the Platanos camp. Another boat soon followed that came to the shore of our (Lighthouse) camp. I was instructed to help (adorable Norwegian) Audar distribute dry clothes in the Men's Tent. I happily did. He is so low key. Nothing troubles him. Once that was under control, I looked in at the Women's Tent where it was chaos as usual with screaming babies and women sometimes a little particular (fashion wise) as to what they wear. We're not Macy's, so we have to insist, if it fits, it's what's in these days. Unlike gender neutral me, among the refugees there seem to be women's clothes and men's clothes and little overlap. Knowing how cold it is and not knowing their accommodations in the coming days, we try to bundle them up as much as possible. Sometimes the little ones are just barely peering out from wearing a shirt, a jacket, a coat, a hat, mittens and a scarf. We gently shoo them out so we can gather up the wet clothes and separate them into bags of socks, "trousers" (as the Aussie "Dirty Girls" call them) and "general." The shoes are put up on the rocks to dry, or sometimes they line the road next to the beach to get more sun to dry. Even if the "trainers" (What Aussies call sneakers) get washed later, transporting them to the laundry dry means less weight. BTW, see pix of people involved with "Dirty Girls" at this LINK Julie helps them match socks. Susan Sarandon came to our camp and is pictured at the Dirty Girls link. She has given donations to our camp and others. I saw her when she came to the camp. I said, "Susan Sarandon, you are here. It's not just a rumor." She replied, "I'm here." I'm a big fan, but I didn't want to fawn too much as I could see she was getting plenty of interaction with folks. Dirty Girls is such a great concept. It costs money to launder and deliver all those clothes. Consider donating. The two women of Dirty Girls - Alison and Emma are fantastic! But, back to the camp. Once all their needs are met, we have to encourage them to move along to the buses that arrive to take them to stage two up the hill. It's pretty amazing the transformation that takes place - 1. wet, cold, adrift in the Aegean Sea; 2. shuttled by strangers to the shore; 3. Lifted to shore by Aqua Man; 4. Wrapped in metalic looking "blankets"; 5. A short walk down the road and into camp; 6. A sit by one of three campfires for warmth; 7.a tent where clothes are taken off and others put on; 8. A sip of hot tea or soup; some cookies, crackers or a granola bar; 9. Another stop by the fire for the men - only because I have only seen them go there; 10. Then it's good-bye with maybe a cup of milk for the children while they await the next bus. They go from wet and scared, to dry and comfortable within the span of an hour or two. It's really great to be a part of making that happen. For them, for now, all is well and they've survived the most arduous part of their journey - hooray!

Lesvos, Day 4, 5 & ?

I'm losing track of the days. Not like it was when I was a kid around Christmastime. I guess I need an advent calendar. I just got off a shift that went from 4am to 2:30pm (it was supposed to go until 3:30, but I slipped out early). I think that was a scheduling mistake, but with all the activity this morning, I wasn't going to make a fuss. There have been boats coming in every morning between 7am and 9am. It is a coordinated effort of lookouts and cell phones. Each shift has a camp manager to direct the volunteers. I like to take the initiative to stand at the refugee entrance. It is beyond the exit, so it can be confusing. I direct them to the gravel path leading to the clothing tents and WCs. I say "Welcome" and "Hello." These people are so happy despite being wet and cold (It is very cold in Greece right now even if you are not wet). Some have no English. You can see their gratitude. This morning I got kisses from some of the women. If you shake their hands, they feel like ice. We had three campfires going. The men take off their wet shoes and try to dry them by the fire, but there isn't time for that. They'll be moving on to stage 2 within the hour. I'm going to sign off for now. Julie is back from camp and we are going to eat our first meal today. We did nosh on snacks also distributed to refugees at the camp.

Dec 19 - Skala Sikaminias to Stay (a While)

Dec 18 - Roadtrip North - Skala Sikamias

Dec 18 - Roadtrip North - Molyvos

Dec 16 - Athens

Lesvos, Day 3

We left our hotel in a residential area of Mytelini heading north again. We decided to stop in Moria to see the goings on. We thought we must have missed a turn off because we didn't see anything like the converted prison described to us nor any people. We stopped to ask an old man sitting at the side of the road. He knew no English. Julie had a map. I motioned crossing the water from Turkey on the map and he understood. He pointed us in the right direction. We made a turn and then we saw the concrete, the barbed wire and refugees walking up and down the road. There were people selling fruit, SIM cards,etc. Capitalism finds its way everywhere. There was a charging station where people were charging their phones. We got out and walked around. I noticed there were small children. I had some fingerpuppets in a small bag in the car. I went to get some. I put a ducky on my finger and wiggled it and said, "quack, quack." Quack is right thought the little kid. I motioned it to him as to offer it. Maybe he thought I was selling it and shrugged. Then I took it off my finger and into his hand. He understood and appeared happy. Other kids started catching on and came around for their own. By now, both Julie and I were distributing them. One kid came back with his frog wanting a horse, but we had no horses, so he settled for a dog. The mothers seemed quite grateful and Julie reported later that she got hugs and kisses from them. We did a lot of waving and just said "Hello." We did the same as we drove off. Those being let off from buses seemed glad to be there making progress in their journey. Others looked like they had been there a while and wished things moved faster. Driving from there to Skala Julie spoke of how she was so jazzed by that experience. We went back on windy roads to reach our destination of Skala Sikamias. In one curve we encountered two donkeys just standing there by the road without explanation. We stopped for a nonsequitur photo op. We made the turn off to Skala and looking out at the water, we noticed a boat coming in. We parked and hurried over for a look. I took some pix from a distance. These were all men. There was a UNHCR van/bus there to take them immediately to stage 2 up the hill. They go from stage 2 to Moria. This is the protocol. If it is a boat of all men who don't look to be in any distress, they are immediately wisked off to stage 2. This was powerful stuff. Our first encounter with a boat coming in. There were people filming and taking pictures. There were townspeople in the form of little old ladies watching the activity. There were mostly volunteers there to greet and clap once they stepped foot on dry ground. I said, "Salaam." This Arabic word for hello and peace was taught to us by Marwa the day before. We went to the camp where Callie from Indiana showed us around - kitchen, men and women + children's changing areas, etc. We met Norwegian Liv there. She was playing with the little goat, Caroline (whether she is a goat or a lamb is debated in the camp; having seen her, I would call her a goat as she has a furry and not a wooly coat). Caroline is certainly smitten with Liv which is so sweet to watch. Liv runs around and Caroline butts her little head and chases her. We ran into Marwa and put ourselves on the schedule. Julie signed up for the early shift beginning at 7:30am and I signed up for 3:30pm. We checked into our lovely room at Hotel Gorgona. Who knew that my minimal German would come in handy in Greece, but it has here at the hotel where they don't speak any English, but they do speak German. The hotel itself is an older building modernized with Ikea fixtures inside. Our room has a small balcony that looks out at the water beyond. It's all so perfect except that we can only have it for three nights as others coming in have reservations. I guess we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.

Lesvos, Day 2

We awoke to a free breakfast at our hotel in Mytelini which was an unexpected surprise. The coffee was especially welcome. A young group of Greeks sat at a near by table. I sensed they were here for the refugees. I asked the one woman directly if she was a volunteer. She said she was part of a film crew from Athens that was filming the goings on. I said that I was pleased that things were being documented (I, for one, was admonished for wanting to take the most innocuous of pictures - see yesterday's entry). She said that she had encountered refugees who were eager to tell their story. I asked how the footage would be used. She said it would be distributed to the various news agencies in the EU and U.S. She had to leave with her crew. I gazed up at the Greek news on the TV which was mostly "Greek to me." The woman who runs the hotel said, "No news is good news." I smiled recognizing that she understood more than a bit of English using that phrase. I replied, "There must be a lot of news from your island." She said, "Sometimes a lot, sometimes a little." I finally understood her to mean that the flow of refugees is not constant, nor is where on shore they are arriving. She said that lately, a lot were arriving here, near Mytelini. More on why and the consequences of that later. I had been in email contact with a woman named Mawa the night before about volunteering in the north where "historically" most of the refugees were known to reach land. After discussing it with Julie, we agreed to drive up for an orientation. First we got lost leaving town when we hit a dead end near the castle ruins. This allowed for a photo op of both the castle and a pile of lifejackets. Really, you see a lot of lifejackets, mostly in piles as you drive the shore. As we've been instructed not to photograph the refugees themselves out of respect for their privacy, a photo of a pile of lifejackets represents their struggle. We found our way out of town by driving around the castle on the hill. We got on what is dubbed "the superhighway," but we had to laugh. Since when does a superhighway mean one that barely accomodates one lane north and one south, is full of pot holes, rarely has any kind of guard rails next to the cliffs and where there are guard rails, they are flimsy at best. My sister, the civil engineer, they could use you here. I was rewarded for the arduous drive by going through gorgeous little townships, and literally, you drive right through slaloming through pedestrians, stray dogs and cats, cars parked where there is little space for them. I took some pix and will put them in a PowerPoint at this blog to give you the real sense of beautiful homes perched on a hillside. We reached our destination of Molyvos after a couple of hours. Like Mytelini, it has a castle/fort in ruins atop a hill. The town is packed with homes perched on a hill on a small peninsula. We drove on coble stone streets. We decided to get out and stretch our legs and get a refreshment. Julie asked where a nice spot was, and a kind woman took (actually walked with us) down to the water's edge to a lovely cafe. While we were walking, Julie introduced herself as a volunteer and asked the womman if she knew of stuff going on. The woman suggested that we later go down to the harbor to a place called 'The Captain's Table' and ask for Melinda who apparently knew a lot about what was going on. When we got there, Melinda was busy with others, so we spoke to her young, beautiful assistant named Emma, Emma was very helpful, too helpful with information. She said that things had slowed in recent days and more help was needed in Mytelini, specifically Moria where the refugees were processed and awaiting passage to Athens (those who get permission). I spoke of how Molyvos was so stikingly beautiful. She said, if you go to Moria, be prepared for an awakening as this is a former prison and things are rather grim here. Our original thought heading north was to go to Skala Sikamias via Molyvos. Emma informed us that doubling back, and taking a tiny twisted road down to that small harbor town would be easier, so we did. Driving into town, down it's one windy road, we saw a building that had a banner on it reading "Lighthouse." This was what we were looking for. We pulled the car over and spoke to a young Scandanavian man with bushy hair on both his head and face. He introduced himself as Mats and really, a friendlier guy you are not likely to meet. He told us that there would be an orientation at Under the Tree cafe at 6pm. It was not yet 3pm. He suggested we go check out their camp at the shoreline. We did. I have to say, I was immediately impressed. It all seemed so clean and well organized and with a nice gravel path leading through it. We came upon a youngish blond woman volunteer in a bright yellow vest, who, come to find out, was also from California. She was also quite friendly. I asked her where I could find Caroline as I noticed her name listed as the day's camp manager on the whiteboard. She smiled and said, Caroline is a lamb. She was found as a baby at the side of the road. She was first bottle fed, but now is on grass. Julie said, "Oh, so more of a mascot." Julie started asking questions about how often boats were coming in from Turkey. The woman motioned to a group of seated people wrapped in blankets, sipping tea and said, "We had one arrive 15 minutes ago." Just then a young lad approached the volunteer and asked her where she was from. His English seemed good. We left them. It all just hit me like a ton of bricks what we had just encountered. I walked to the end of the camp and had to compose myself. I then used the porto-potties there to relieve myself. We used part of our time until the orientation to pick up trash off the beach. Clothes are washed and recycled by a group of women called Dirty Girls. We had been mistaken earlier in the day as belonging to this group. Julie joked, "You should have known me 30 years ago!" I came upon a small green, embroidered blanket that I picked up from the rocky shore. Julie said it was a prayer blanket. Knowing this might be special to someone. I threw it over a bench to dry within site of the camp. We inquired at a couple of hotels about rooms and had a look at them. 40 E a night seems to be the going rate. We had our orientation with Mawa who is Arabic-American and the volunteer coordinator for Lighthouse Refugee Relief Lesvos. She told us that five boats had come in today and that numbers were up from the week before. She gave us the skinny on what goes on. Rule number one - never separate family members. The organization operates 24/7. People work in one of three 8-hour shifts. Only coastguard members, lifeguards, medics and the like are actually supposed help the boats into shore because they have the training. It could be, if multiple boats come at once, you will be called to action. It's OK to be there to welcome people as they make it to land. Mawa says it's an emotional, but gratifying experience as the refugees are so grateful. Back at the camp, there are separate men's and women's tents where they get a change of clothes, etc. Treatment to prevent hypothermia begins immediately with mylar blankets at the shore. Back at camp, food and tea are offered by volunteers. The night shift includes wearing night-vision goggles in search of boats that could come in at any hour. Lighthouse is what is called "Stage One" where refugees are first received. The day they arrive, or the next day, they are brought to "Stage Two" up the hill operated by the UNHCR. From there they go to Moria (just north of Mytelini). Julie inquired about why boats were arriving in the Mytelini area since the north coast is closer. Mawa said the simplest answer is "politics." In Turkey, authorities are trying to block boats leaving by blocking roads to the north. The waters further south are more dangerous, but people are taking their chances and who knows what the coyotes are telling them. Next to the Lighthouse camp is another camp called Platanos. A (very handsome) young Greek man joined our table representing Platanos. He was jovial (which only made him more good looking). He was very well informed of the politics of it all. Under the Tree is one of two cafes in town and is hoppng with activity, mostly that of volunteers decompressing after a shift. There is a suspended firepit under which stray kittens gather to escape the frigid temperatures. Patrons throw out bits of food to the cats who scamper over in a hurry to devour it. All is allowed. All is OK. We happily took cats and kittens into our laps at this cafe named for the 200 year old tree at its center with a plastic canopy tent forming the inside. We had to head back to Mytelini to have one more night at our hotel and gather our belongings before we head back to Skala in the morning. BTW, Lighthouse Refugee Relief accepts donations - http://www.lighthouserelief.org/donation

Taking it to the Streets and Waterways - Activists Helping Refugees Give Europe the What For

Lesvos, Day 1

We arrived on the island yesterday. I've chosen to give up calling it Lesbos in favor of the Greek version because I came here with a woman (Julie) and once you've felt the gravity of the situation here, all jokes are off. We flew in from Athens into a rather rinky dink airport. Our rental car is rather rinky dink as well. We needed the help of a strapping young German to get our behemoth suitcases to fit in the backseat. They are so large not because we a couple of clotheshorses, but, wishful thinking, we brought toys, books, mylar blankets, etc. for refugees in need. Arriving at the airport, one is struck by two things immediately - the water is choppy and Turkey appears so close. The temptation would be there to cross if the swells were not so high. The people we spoke to said people weren't crossing today in these condidtions, yet driving from the airport to our hotel, the site of piles of used lifejackets is striking. There are also bits of shiny broken mylar blankets being taken by the wind. Our hotel, a converted home, is pleasant enough, but far removed from town. We drove into town to get a sense of it. I was struck by the beautiful old style architecture. Driving is a bit of a bear, as natives appear to have little patience for slow pokes who don't know their was around. When they are not behind the wheel, the Greeks are a patient, warm people as far as I can tell. As an ESL teacher, I sometimes take for granted the lingua franca of my native tongue which is not always the case, but I'm also quick to recognize someone who only has a few words in English. I now know how my ESL students feel. I need to point and nod and otherwise let my body do the talking. Thankfully, many people do speak English. As we drove along the beautiful harbor, we drove past an enormous luxury liner cruise ship. I can't help but be struck by the irony. Here is a big boat, capable of transporting (very) large numbers of people safely and comfortably, but no, that would be to obvious?! Instead, let's have them too many to a small, rubber boat in the cold risking their lives to pass this "channel." By not bringing them over, we are forcing them to risk their lives. Which they will do. Who are they? Refugees fleeing countries torn apart by war, war that the west is in large part responsible for. They want a better life for themselves and their families. Wouldn't you? Here in Europe, you actually see a lot of coverage of the Refugee Crisis. Other than Germany, the EU does not appear to be bending over backwards to help. Greece's coastguard and other officials are helping as the small boats make it to shore. Greece is the EU ticket to other destinations in Europe, most often Germany (This is my understanding). Speaking of Germany and Germans, last night while driving, we came upon a row of tents along the side of the road and a group of young people working out of the back of a truck. Weilding large knives, they were cutting up carrots, onions, cauliflower, tomatoes, etc. and tossing them into crates which then were put in a barrel-sized pot and stirred. Julie was bursting to help and asked what she could do and was directed to the woman in charge. Meanwhile, I spoke to some of the group who were mostly women. The ones I spoke to said they were from Poland and Germany. One of the Polish women said she had been volunteering in the Balkans until they stopped accepting refugees. Now this seemed to be the place she felt she could be of use. Their English was all perfect (I say this only because I'm an ESL teacher and have become cued to look for English levels). The one German woman I spoke at any length with seemed to have some humor about her which was welcome to me, still I got a bit choked up (with pride) when talking about how Germany has really stepped up in this situation. Julie returned with the apparent leader/supervisor of the group known as No Border Kitchen whose primary concern about us was whether or not we were religious fanatics and to be sure we were in support of feminism. We easily balked at any fanaticism. I even said something like, "I've left Christmas in the U.S." I didn't know quite how to respond to the feminism inquiry without throwing out a joke like, "When in Lesbos..." Don't worry, I didn't. I so wanted to get a photo of them chopping up huge piles of veggies with their huge knives and stirring their huge caldron. Maybe mistakenly, I asked if I could. The one German woman who had appeared so easy going, asked, "For whom would the picture be?" I replied ambitiously, "The world." She scoffed and pointed to that woman in charge and said I had better ask her. I didn't and didn't take the picture. Julie and I parted from the place and she told me that they were having a meeting the next morning to discuss things and that we could come, but the woman said we might be bored and we might rather come at noon to help. I could see how for this group everything has to go through committee where a sort of democracy is portrayed. As much as I'd like to be a part of democracy in the birthplace of democracy, with our days here feeling like they are leaving us already, I am eager to be told to get to work by a dictator type, feminist or not.

Coastal Trip for Thanksgiving

Somarts - Dia de los Muertos

Halloween 2015

"Math is hard!"

I remember years ago hearing about a Barbie Doll that spoke when you pushed a button or pulled a chord. One of the phrases in her repertoire was, "Math is hard!" Frankly, it made me laugh. My father, an engineer, was determined that his two daughters be engineers. He would review our math homework with us every night. Sometimes we would wind up in tears as he would say, "No, your answer to #4 is wrong. Do it again. And show every step." Finally, he would mark which step we went wrong and we would find our way to the correct answer. Math was hard, but it was all worth it. I started out as an engineering major in college. Strangely, I now teach English (ESL) though I've always done better on the math portion of standardized tests. My sister is a Civil Engineer.

On Racism

Racism is a tricky thing. I once had a class (part of my teaching ESL training) in cultural diversity. My teacher held the position that racism is about power. His position was that white people hold the power in America (in particular white males), therefore, only they could be racist. At first I resisted this notion having had negativity thrown at me from black people and thinking I was the victim of racism. But then I got to thinking about it - about the history of the U.S. and how black people were first slaves and later "freed," but freed into what? It wasn't like a freed slave could then run for president. There have been so many obstacles to overcome. The hill to climb has been so high. I was so pleased to have the opportunity to vote for Obama (twice) whom I respect so much. But think, he wasn't descended from slaves. His mother was white. He was given opportunities that most black people aren't. I don't say this to downplay his achievements. However, I want to say that the structure of society is racist so long as there is a disproportionate number of white people as high ranking government officials and CEOs of companies and doctors and lawyers, etc and a disproportionate number of black people in prison and unemployed, etc. I'm not saying there are any easy answers to these imbalances, but that we need to be aware of them and our history to better understand what "racism" really means.

Maggie in SF

I am ...

Father's New Land

My father grew up in Germany. He did OK in school, but in order to be accepted to college, there was a single test he had to pass. He was so nervous about the test that when it came time to take it, he blanked and did terribly. That was it. He had no chance to further his education. His aunt had married a Jewish man in the 1930s and Germany was not friendly to Jews at that time (to say the least). This aunt and uncle (Ilsa and Hans) moved to California. Hans liked to tinker with things in his garage. He invented something which he called The Shopsmith which was a kind of all-in-one woodworking device from which one could make their own furniture. Around this time, American soldiers were coming home from the war and with idle hands were eager to build things using The Shopsmith. My father's aunt and uncle became millionaires. Meanwhile, in Germany, times were tough. There was little food and infrastructure. By the late 1950s, things were improving, but not for my father who had flunked his final exam. His prospects in Germany were not good. He was invited by his wealthy aunt and uncle to come and stay with them. Uncle Hans told him that there were community colleges that welcomed everyone. My father packed his bags and left for the sunshine state. The first class he enrolled in was 'English for Foreigners.' He had a great time meeting new people and learning the language. Soon he was able to pursue his passion of studying Electrical Engineering. After receiving his Bachelor's degree in Electrical Engineering at UC Berkeley, he went on to get a Master's degree in Computer Science. This was back when computers were so big they took up a whole room. He then worked in the burgeoning computer industry and raised a family just outside of Silicon Valley. My father's English is excellent today though he still has a slight accent. When he leaves me a voicemail he says, "Zis is your fazzer." I have to smile - like I wouldn't know that it's him?

Austria 2015 - Vienna's Leopold Museum

Austria 2015 - Vienna's Belvedere Palace & Museum

Austria 2015 - Vienna's Natural History Museum

Stop the Misogyny

Thomas Jefferson had Foresight

Lincoln Said Labor Matters

You can take the man out of the theater, but you can't take the theater out of the man (nor can you take away his film can). See pic below of my man, the retired projectionist, at the Roxie Theater.

Austria 2015 - Vienna's Ferris Wheel

Austria 2015 - Vienna Flea Market

I'm For It !

Austria 2015 - Vienna

Austria 2015 - Mondsee

Biden + Warren = Yes

Eating Invasives

https://boingboing.net/2015/08/20/eat-invasive-species-and-enjoy.html When in the Caribbean, eat lionfish because every delicious forkful helps save the coral reef from a destructive, invasive species. So dine on California wild boar ("dark and lean, packing a more intense flavor than cured ham"); New York dogfish ("a bit like scallops but less chewy"); Tambaqui Fish Ribs ("resemble baby-back ribs but are more tender"); Atlantic red snapper and Puerto Rican iguana kebabs. They're the species it's OK to wish extinction upon (at least in specific regions). You’ve heard of the locavore, but what about the invasivore? Whether it’s lionfish, which are ruining reefs in Mexico, or wild boar, tearing up California valleys, invasive species are the latest offering on menus around the world. After being accidentally introduced to local habitats, where most of them don’t have natural predators, these organisms multiply—often at a rapid pace—causing environmental stress, infrastructure harm, and even health problems. Pioneering chefs are taking sustainability one step further by working with foragers, fishermen, and hunters as a form of edible conservation. “I was looking to utilize ingredients that may not be mainstream,” says Taylor Naples of Craft New York. “Then I realized these items had great flavor.” At Giorgio’s in Salinas, Calif., chef Alessio Giannuzzi serves his swine with tomato bruschetta and prosciutto he cures himself. Boar meat is dark and lean, packing a more intense flavor than cured ham, like a gamey version of regular pork. Giannuzzi also adds boar—a popular meat in Italy—to a ragout for pasta dishes such as pappardelle and lasagna.

Soccer, Birthday, Racetrack, Puppies

My Hawaii Trip 2015

An Evolved Supreme Court Makes its Historic Decision

Robin in the Yard (photo by LS)

Freaky Niece

Brown Thornbill Mimics Many Other Birds Including Ones Who Eat Other Birds

Trip Along Highways 84 & 1

Me in Davenport (photo by DG)

Junco Takes a Dip (photo by LS)

Backyard Woodrat (LS photo)

Sichuan Bush Warbler (Locustella chengi) - determined to be new species based on distinctive song

Bye Bye Ben E. King (footage: Il Sorpasso, 1962)

Jack Fruit

Out My Window

Student Pix - March, 2015

Liu Xia

Niece & Nephew - February, 2015

The Haunted Desert Outside Vegas

Neon Museum - 2015

The Fremont Street Experience -2014

The Vegas Strip - 2014

Hoover Dam - 2014

In the News: Koalas Whose Paws Burned in Fire Get Home-made Mittens

Downtown Vegas - In the Beginning & In the New Year

Je Suis Charlie

Death Valley - 2014

Mono Lake - 2014

Bodie - 2014

Virginia Creek Settlement - 2014

Reno - 2014