Daily Blues & Views

This is the first year in the past twenty five or so years that I have not written a college recommendation letter. That's why a small feature in my local paper caught my attention this morning. It's an ethics advice column where people write in burning questions and get some self-appointed expert's opinion. So here's the deal. A high school English teacher is asking if it's unethical to think about asking for payment for doing as many as 20-30 recommendation letters a year. He notes how time consuming it is and that it seems as if a few teachers get the most requests for these increasingly crucial passports to college admission. The Dear Abby of ethics, a man, tells him that it is, of course, unthinkable to request payment or any compensation for this necessary part of his job. He cites a slew of examples to illustrate his wisdom. Doctors have to tackle after-hours tasks and many other folks in helping professions routinely go beyond their working hours. I...

We're waiting for the possibility of snow here in Portland. All the weather forecasts promised the chance for flurries to hit the valley floor. We're still waiting. It's certainly cold enough. A few snowflakes on Christmas day would definitely be appropriate. The mystery continues. Walking around town this morning it was lovely to see so few cars out, so many more folks walking. Fortunately a few coffeehouses are open so those with no particular place to go can find community. It's suddenly simple outside. Passed an older man pushing a shopping cart with a KFC plastic cup in the child's seat. Saw a couple unloading presents from a van, all were wrapped in white with red ribbons. Corporate sterile. Yesterday, in the big middle of all the holiday rush in a local store, I went for the exit door just as another guy did too. Katie slipped through, but he and I found ourselves side by side in the threshold. My new "partner," an African-American man ...

I'm keeping a few pennies in my pocket from now on. I usually put them in a jar to be rolled up later. Sometimes I just drop them in the small container that many grocery clerks keep near their register when someone's total ends in an odd number. But yesterday, amid the chaos in my local Whole Foods store, my pennies bought a wonderful moment. I'm a writer; that means I listen to people's conversations, look at them (sometimes too long for comfort) cross some borders. While checking out, a cheerful twenty something in front of me was concerned about having enough money for the few items she had. When she requested the clerk to put her things in a small plastic bookstore bag she was holding, she was reminded that the 5 cents credit for providing her own bag could be donated to a preselected charity or put towards her total. The bright-eyed redhead said, " Use it for my total then I' will have exactly one penny to my name." I reached in my pocket and...

The primary candidates for President now have Christmas (a thousand pardons, Holiday) ads now. Apparently Mike Huckabee has a not so subliminal cross in the form of a window behind his head. As the camera pans over the Christmas tree and lights, the white cross rests firmly on his shoulders for a few seconds. I can't believe people consider this a controversial issue. The notion that this is unintended is both naive and frightening. I'd expect the flack if non-Christians had a problem with the tree, but I suspect many of us have trees ourselves. I guess this pandering to the Christian right is to be expected. But seriously folks, that window is no accident. Every frame in a political ad is purposeful. Every image intended. Don't delude yourself if you think this fuss is all for nothing. It is something. Crosses abound. As an archetype, they've been popping up in backgrounds for ages. One of the things I miss the most about teaching is working with film and lit...

We see them everyday. Often they stop us cold, a kind of pop-up porno in 3D. Panhandlers. Some are more creative than others but all have the same goal. Isn't it incredible how they can stir up such contradictory emotions in seconds? We all have our favorites. Like me, you are probably inconsistent. Even if you know the score, most panhandlers are not homeless, most are probably going to use your spare change for drugs or alcohol. Probably both. Some folks I know make a habit of always saying no. They have it all figured out and just keep moving. Others, like myself are bothered by their own inability to take a position and stick with it. Today, while putting some groceries in my truck, a guy appeared and thrust a Veteran's Administration card in my face. He said, "I'm not a bum, really, I just need to buy some gas and I have no money." Now what do you think? But who has time to research random meetings in parking lots? Something I've notic...

When things get spinning too far out there, it's important to remind ourselves that there is a way to reel them in. I offer up the myth of the eternal return. Sure it goes by other names, but just when we think that all is hopeless, a way out appears. It's like the musicians who keep coming back to the blues for grounding. Baseball will certainly survive it's current malaise because the game has always been bigger than the individuals or the accomplishments of a few individuals. Willie Mays' famous catch from the 1954 World Series works as an appropriate metaphor here. Aside from immortalizing both Mays and Vic Wertz, the Cleveland Indian who hit the drive, this perfect moment in time reminds us that the ball doesn't always drop. In this case, it ended up in the basket; then Willie turned and threw back to the infield in one fluid motion. We'll get the the ball back in time. Some years ago I had a perfect moment with Willie Mays myself. I was passing thr...

Have you heard the news? Drug use in professional baseball is rampant. (Insert the sound of Goofy laughing here) No; say it ain't so... It is, has been for quite a while now, and no blue ribbon congressional committee findings will shock anyone. Barry Bonds must be breathing a little easier tonight, right? Maybe now we can get down to the real business at hand. Let's get real about role models, salary caps, ethics, and someting called the love of the game. What we've got here is two issues. First, the actual decision to take steroids, mindful of the consequences on career, health and conscience. Then, and equally as important, the coverup. The decision to rationalize, deny, parse words, and flat out lie. The game, like most everything driven by obscene amounts of money in this culture is beyond tainted. As always, it's still an apt metaphor for the larger issues. If the pastoral, beautiful, uniquely American game of baseball is dripping with poison, so too is o...

Charles Brown where are you? It's Christmas time in the city and Charles Brown is not in town. Charles died back in 1999, but his version of "Merry Christmas Baby" will always be the one-the only one. A major influence on the likes of Nat King Cole, Fats Domino, Chuck Berry and Little Richard, I used to see Charles all the time in the 80s and 90s inside the Top of the Stretch room at Golden Gate Fields. Sometimes he'd sit alone, sometimes near another blues great, Jimmy McCracklin, and now and then he'd be accompanied by one or more women admirers. Charles loved horse racing and he never missed an opportunity to go to the track. You couldn't miss him on weekends because he'd always be wearing an outfit for his evening gigs. Usually Charles had on a seaman's cap in royal blue sequins with matching suit. In his last few years he was wheel chair bound, but that never stopped his wardrobe or his racetrack appearances. Even when he'd taken a t...

Driving home the other night I realized something about Christmas (pardon me, Holiday) lights. Sure I like to see them appear this time of year and even look forward to the first sighting. It's usually sometime before Thanksgiving. Some folks have the "contest winner" mentality and go for amount, volume or stunning effects. Growing up in La La land, the yearly cruise to neighborhoods to view these competitions was always a part of the celebration. But that's not what gets me. I question the motivation of many of those folk. Some are religious, some wealthy, some driven, and many are drifting progressively away from any holiday at all. What I especially like are the houses that suddenly sport a simple string of lights. Sometimes it's a small tree or electric wreath, or perhaps just a colorful star or silvery icicle display. Somebody has taken the time to light the dark. Rolling through the neighborhood I traverse on late Wednesday evenings, the houses are...

Last weekend I spent a few hours baby sitting with Katie for her niece. It was a relatively smooth evening until bedtime of course. It seems like Katie spends most of her time with Naomi, the 3 year old, while I entertain Annika, the 5 year old. I love Annika's philosophical mind. She asks questions constantly and asserts her ideas with the certainty of a tenured professor. This particular bed time featured her reading to me. Oh, she doesn't really read yet, that will come in a few months. What she does is make a huge effort to memorize the text of various story books, and then retell the story to me. At times she id dead accurate; her retelling can be word for word for a stretch. Then she regresses and makes something up that sounds logical. All the while I'm giving her cues and comments. "Yup, that's exactly what it says." While this is going on, Naomi is attempting to do the same thing. She flips the pages and tells Katie a few logical phrases ...

Of all the horses I ever wrote about, John Henry was the most memorable. John was a lot more than a champion. Even people who know very little about thoroughbred horse racing know the name John Henry. Like Seabiscuit, he was a people's horse. Like Seabiscuit, he wasn't much to look at, but he achieved immortality. John was just as ornery and unpredictable a any horse can be, but he had a presence that few people, let alone horses have. When John Henry died last month, at 32, there were fewer tears than memories. He lived a full life for a gelding and still entertained his adoring public at the Kentucky Horse Park until the end. Back in 1987 while covering stakes races for The Blood-Horse magazine, I had my 15 minutes with John Henry. In the days before the Golden Gate Handicap that year, I used my press credentials to visit John in his stall. He'd been reclusive that day because people were coming by on stable tours and media photo ops all week. But when everyone...

Last week I was an extra in a movie. It was a date with destiny, of sorts. I always knew I'd do this someday, and I must say I have extra talent. On a lark, Katie and I answered a casting call a couple of months ago. We had our mug shots taken and filled out a questionnaire, and then waited. A few weeks later I all but forgot about it thinking that was it. Not so. The day after Thanksgiving the call came. It was for the film Management starring Jennifer Anniston, Woody Harrelson and Steve Zahn. This is not the kind of movie I go to see, but it certainly is one I would be in. We showed up at 6:30 am and found that part of the Portland Convention Center had been transformed into the Baltimore Airport. I's not difficult to do. Airports and Convention Centers have lots of directional signs, escalators, thick carpet, underground parking lots, and lots of folks running around. Ushered into a holding room, the three sets of clothing we were required to bring were inspecte...

Last night while driving to my writing group a light snow fell. The flakes melted upon hitting the windshield, but I enjoyed them for the fleeting seconds they appeared. This California guy still regresses when snow falls. I guess I can count the times I've experienced fresh snow on two hands. That's one reason I take the time to marvel at how beautiful a snow flake can be. It's my favorite geometry. When I got to the group meeting place, I had to sit in the car and just watch the flakes melt for another few minutes. I was reminded of a transitional time in my life when I stood on the El platform in Chicago, December, 1969. A friend snapped a photo of me holding a harmonica as light snow fell. Bending a few notes is a good way to keep warm in 14 degree weather, and it makes the time between trains pass faster. Been thinking about that winter as I negotiate the current one in Portland. Oddly enough, I think I come alive in very cold weather. Once inside, after ti...

My 83 year old mother-in-law, as previously noted is dating an 86 year old. They have both lost their life partners within the last three years and seem to be having the time of their lives (what's left of them, with all due respect) What is so incredible is how other family members are responding. How do you tell someone who has lived eight decades not to do anything rash? Slow down for what? Yet Katie and I hear only concern from her sisters; they do not see what we see. The real issue here is that each of us has to make peace with our parents while we can. What these two are holding on to is their alienation from who their mother really is and who she has become. They are holding on to all that went wrong with their maternal relationships to date and don't seem to be able to let it go. As we age, we have an unusual opportunity to relate to our parents as completely different people. The brief time I spent with my own parents as adult to adult helps me to know who t...

I'm in a perfect position to observe family dynamics this holiday season because I have very little family. Except for a sister in Seattle and a cousin in New York, that's it. Of course they have husbands and a few kids and grandkids of their own, but I've never met most of them. Most of what passes for my family experience these days is through my wife's family. And what a family! We ventured down to Berkeley to meet my 83 year old mother-in-law's new 86 year old boy friend. After hearing that he resembled everything from Mr. McGoo to a stereotypical "fuddy duddy," my wife and I found him to be quite the opposite. Sure he's got major contradictions, but what unraveled was a string of projections from my sisters-in-law, my nephew, and a host of other marginal characters in this drama. The recent hook-up of these two very senior citizens is bringing out all kinds of unpredictable family shenanigans that will be breaking news in the weeks ahead. ...