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Showing posts from July, 2011

Throughout the Land

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The weekend is half over and we're grudgingly moving toward a solution to the "debt crisis." One thing we know for sure. We're disgusted. We, the people, feel played. We feel powerless to change the rhetoric, the posturing, the lack of empathy, and the degree to which our legislators seem removed from the lives of those they represent. And while this fiasco plays out, thousands of teachers march on Washington in a planned demonstration that unfortunately coincided, or rather slammed into the debt crisis on the same day. No matter, the media is ignoring it like the paid off institution they often are. There was word that CNN would cover the "Save Our Schools" gathering. So far nothing. Just for information's sake, they want the end to bankrupt legislation like No Child Left Behind. They want to get rid of the corporate interests that would do the bidding of those who threaten democracy and critical thought the most. They want an ounce of resp

Blink

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This is such a summer of contrasts. While most of the nation has been enduring sweltering temperatures, here in the northwest, we're still marveling at a day with sunshine. We'll get to 89 degrees this weekend so it's safe to use the "s" word; summer is finally here. But it will rain in Portland in a few days. If it doesn't...just wait a few more days. It's what we love about this place. It's the price to pay for the beauty of the green forests, the rivers and streams, and the numerous lakes. In Arizona, dust storms to rival the Great Depression's dust bowl era have occurred and reoccurred this year. While the rivers and streams in the northwest are loaded with so much runoff that it'll be September before some are truly fishable. In Somalia, what's left of that country is offering up images of starvation that make the newscasters cringe. Wish there was a way to get some of that excess water from one part of the world to another.

Bessie

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She was a millionaire, you know. But that's not how most of us will remember "Bessie." Brown Bess, the Eclipse award winner as best older mare of 1989 died last week. At 29, she lived a good long life for a thoroughbred mare. But that's no surprise, she never really got good until she was 7. That's not exactly right, she was always good, but to win an Eclipse as the best in the nation at 7 is rarely done. Most thoroughbred champions are done much earlier. Today, they often don't make it to their 4 year old campaign. But there was nothing typical about Brown Bess. Owned and bred by Suzanne Pashayan of Fresno, and trained by Chuck Jenda, "Bessie" was based in Northern California. When she won a few Grade III races, the connections decided to go down south and see just how good she could be. We all found out. I'd done a number of stories on her Bay Meadows and Golden Gate Fields wins, and a few pieces on the entire team. With jockey &quo

Taking a Chance

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Memorial services are always tough. It's the celebrations of life that come after that are much more meaningful to me. So it was, yesterday with the service and celebration of Tom Ruhl's life. Tom died suddenly after complications from heart valve surgery. At 61, he had so much more to do. The good news is that this was a man that left a huge impact on everybody he encountered. Some will talk of the teacher, the principal, the college professor...but it was the human being that was most remarkable. The rare combination of wisdom and passion is what struck me. To that I would add humility. Case in point: I met Tom over the phone when a friend in Portland suggested I give him a call. All I knew was that he was the director of a new MAT (Master's in teaching) program at Marylhurst University, near Portland. I'd been in Portland only a year or so and was anxious to get involved in teacher mentoring since ending my 33 year career in the Bay Area. Trouble was tha

Confirmed

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I once figured that I've had about 5,000 students in about 12 different subjects over the years. It's a bit tricky to calculate because there are two different types of class schedules to factor in and, of course, other teaching situations. Should I count the classes I taught as a VISTA Volunteer in "Rock and Blues Analysis?" Oh, it's not what you think. They were an attempt to introduce mostly white, middle class kids to ethnic studies. If you follow the evolution and development of American traditional and popular music it's inevitable to teach racial attitudes and ethnic history. There were also the Adult school classes in ESL and something I called "A Folk History of the United States." Probably a few hundred students there over a 5-6 year period. What about teacher training workshops? Do they count? Or the "guest lessons" I've taught to model something for the student-teachers I currently supervise. No matter. 5,000 i

Step Right Up

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Of all the quotes and rants, of all the looped tapes playing the same pathetic faces endlessly saying the same inane things...of all the sensational headlines, the tabloid blathering, the bobbing sea of talking heads...one statement about the recently concluded Casey Anthony trial stands out. "That family can best be described as a circus of dysfunction," said Anthony's former fiance. That metaphor goes far beyond the family and the trial that seems to have riveted the voyeuristic fantasies of the American public. It works beautifully to describe the current Congress's attempts to agree on anything, much less the deficit. We know we've hit rock bottom when the good of the order (you and me) takes a back seat to posturing so that re-election is not in doubt. For decades our legislative body has been in perpetual gridlock. They seem to have elevated the concept lately. We in this country are certainly not alone in our greatest show on earth dysfunction. Th

Bursting In Air

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I love July 5th. Any day that follows the 4th is going to be better. Oh, I believe I'm as patriotic as the next guy/person. But July 4th is loaded...literally. My neighbor's well drugged dog has survived another evening of shell shock. We often forget how a canine's sensitive hearing perceives the onslaught that continues well past midnight. Where I live, I can hear both Portland and Vancouver, Washington's annual explosive offerings. Those echos bounce around the Willamette and Columbia rivers like toy boats crashing into all manner of air currents and sound tunnels. It's really got very little to do with the Declaration of Independence any more, hasn't it? But this morning dawned sunny and peaceful, with only the white noise of traffic and a slight breeze. Little Toto was still not normal, but he's beginning to believe that the immediate danger is over. The crows took off for more rural surroundings on Saturday evening. I think they knew what