Christmas comes this time each year

Tom's running for Board of Supervisors so I spent Saturday walking around the lovely and sunny neighborhood of Bernal Heights trying to convince his neighbors to vote for him. "Bernal," as those who live there call it, is tucked away at the southern end of the city. The streets have their own rhythm, slower than other city streets and narrower too, giving them a cozy feel. The little houses are part bungalow, part cabin, and many of the homeowners have added personal touches, like tiny gardens, outdoor swings, wooden signs welcoming visitors except at the homes of the unwelcoming whose doormats simply say "Leave".

It was a very warm day and many of front doors were wide open. One home with the door open was decorated with Christmas ornaments and fringe and a tiny tree atop a table. It looked like those decorations had been up for quite some time. When I shouted "is anyone at home," a middle-aged gray-haired woman came out and was happy to take my flyer with Tom's platform. Despite the heat, she wore a long white nightgown of white flannel with small green and red reindeer scattered happily throughout the fabric. She appeared quite in touch with the election and seemed interested in Tom's candidacy. I believe that her obsession with Christmas was simply about it being something that makes her feel good, perhaps loved, purposeful, happy.

When I made my way back to Valtin Headquarters (an ironing board at The Good Life market), I found Ellen, Tom's wife, and another friend. (Actually, the iron board is an ingenious idea since it holds campaign literature without taking up the space that an ordinary table would.) I helped the two of them. One young man I talked to was on parole and couldn't vote, but after asking and finding out that Tom was not gay, he said his wife might vote for Tom. He liked that Tom was a "regular guy." One of my nurses from UCSF, Stacy, walked by but didn't stop. I placed her face after she passed and was sorry it took me so long to do so. She was very dedicated to me while I was in her care and it would have been the perfect opportunity to thank her, and ask her to vote for Tom.

Go Tom, go. Run, run reindeer.

If money isn’t loosened up, this sucker could go down

Here's the upshot from our voter registration effort this past Monday: 151 new citizens were registered: 126 Democrats, 22, who declined to state, 2 Republicans (what are these two people thinking?!), and 1 undecided. In the meantime, the economy's going down the tubes and the government hasn't yet been secured a bail-out strategy. Master of Ceremonies Bush declared "...this sucker could go down"--I think he's talking about the economy--if the $700 billion package doesn't come together soon.

Well, as the ship goes down, all remains calm in Candyland. The Bay continues to sparkle, and the mighty bridges shine as does the sun. Everything looks just o.k. from where I sit.

Down in the Dumps and Neck-less

A picture's worth a thousand words, no?

I mean who'd you rather vote for the strapping young, enthusiastic, smiling African American or the other two. The aged white man looks like he just lost his best friend and the woman is smiling but ought to be upset given that she has lost her neck; in short, these two look like the depressed and the fool.

I don't want to give the other side any helpful hints but, really, they need to update their cardboard cut-out!

Hitting the pavement for peace/Obama

On a mission in search of peace, I head from the War Memorial to the Masonic Auditorium, home of the Freemasons, one of the oldest and largest fraternal bodies. "It is a body of knowledge and a system of ethics based on the belief that each man has a responsibility to improve himself and thereby affect a positive transformation in his daily life, his family and his society."

Positive Transformation. Yes, it's a good time for such things for all of us, old and new citizens.

Twice a month at the Masonic Auditorium across from Grace Cathedral just off the California cable car line, a naturalization ceremony is held and, at the end of the festivities, the doors swing open and out comes a whole new crop of Americans. It can bring tears to your eyes to witness the diverse and fresh group of people, beaming, alive, full of hope.

And, because of their readiness and hopefulness it makes for an ideal spot to register/capture new voters.

"Are you registered to vote?" To which many just looked at you blankly but with a warm smile mostly because of the massive language barriers between us and them. However, some—typically those who'd been here for many, many years and had never gotten around to getting their citizenship and, thus, had never voted—stopped to tell their story and then register. Several were eager to vote for Obama and registered as Democrats without hesitation. One middle-aged Filipino man, who'd lived here for 30 years, wanted to finally vote, and wished to register Republican, confessed that he actually didn't really care who won the election.

I asked, "Well, are you interested in things changing? Like the war, the economy, your kids' schools."

He paused and said, "I just want the troops to come home."

"Me too," I said.

"I think I'll vote for Obama," he responded.

Everyone wants peace. Everyone wants to end this war. Well, not everyone. Vote Obama.

Resolutions for a new year

Rosh Hashanah (the Jewish new year) begins at sundown on September 29, a week from today, ending at nightfall on October 1. At that time, twenty-plus people will somehow fit into my not-overly-spacious apartment, briefly acknowledge and toast the occasion as I explain quickly what it means to the majority of the guests, and then eat a large meal while--hopefully--sharing good conversation and the company of old and new friends.

I haven't yet prepared a list of resolutions for the coming year and not sure that I will as I don't feel quite resolved about much. Needless to say, it's been a strange year. Having come pretty close to leaving this planet on a couple of occasions this Spring, I'm not quite sure what "it" all means, why I was left to spare, and what I should do next. On my better days, I'm grateful to be around for another year. I'm happy that I'll be here for another occasion to eat noodle kugel. Who wouldn't be?

So here's one of my grandmother's prized recipes: Fabulous Noodle Kugel (Please note that it's actually the Prizewinning Recipe of Mrs. Eugene E. Smith, Tuscon, AZ; Source: Kosher Recipes for the Holiday and Everyday)

This is from a recipe book that came from my maternal grandmother. It was compiled by the Pacific South Branch of the National Women’s League of the United Synagogue of America, et al. Sponsored by the Southern California Gas Company (imagine PGE putting out a cookbook with Kosher recipes…wouldn’t EVER happen!). The prizewinning recipes—including the kugel—“were chosen from hundreds submitted by housewives throughout the Southwestern U.S.”

1 lb. broad noodles, cooked
1 c. sugar
1 lb. cottage cheese
1.5 tsp vanilla
1 c. white raisins
7 eggs
3 c. milk
1 pt sour cream
¼ lb. melted butter

Mix all pudding ingredients together in a large bowl. Pour into a large dripping pan and refrigerate overnight, or at least for 3 hours. Consistency will be loose before refrigeration but will set when chilled. Sprinkle with cinnamon before baking. Bake at 350 degrees for 1.5 hours or until golden brown on top. Serves 15.

Enjoy and happy new year to all.

What exactly are we fighting for anyway?

On my way to the Masonic Auditorium, I stopped to use "the facilities" at the Veteran's War Memorial building on Van Ness. The restrooms on the second floor are a well-kept secret. They're usually empty and always clean and feel like the ones from elementary school: jet black toilet seats, checkered tiled floors, pedestal sinks and faucets with a slow and steady drip, a blend of dampness and old-fashioned cleaning products in the air. Comforting in an odd and familiar way.

On your way out and down the stairwell of this solid old building, the view of the outdoors through the rectangular windows is obscured by stained glass with various images dedicated to our different wars:

To the scientists who gave the fighting Navy the tools for victory in World War II.

This particular dedication below the nuclear symbol. Three intersecting elongated ovals forming a lime green Star of David (of sorts) where they meet and, dead center, a crimson bindi. All afloat a wavy, watery sea. What a strange message hidden right here in ultra-PC San Francisco. A rarely-seen window praising the genius of those who created the technology that made it possible to practically obliterate Hiroshima and Nagasaki. I paused for a moment wondering how many others know about this window, and guessed that it's not a widely advertised attraction especially not to those tourists coming from places like Japan.

When it comes time to install a window honoring those who have served in Iraq or those who've refined any technology used to facilitate victory in that foreign land, what could it possibly say?

To the innocent and unknowing men and women who so valiantly fought in a dubious war initiated by leaders whose motives were never quite certain.

Tasting Life

The days
when I get out of bed
I think

I’ve forgotten
what life tastes like.

At night
when I quietly
pray
for the taste to return

someday

when things get better
a summer peach will taste
just like that.