My Grandmother

There is a woman in my life who I could not imagine what life would be like without her.

Growing up she was always there. It seemed when something as trivial as a tooth falling out occurred she was right next to me. She was even present when my signature chipped tooth incident occurred and calmed me to sleep to help the pain go away.

I spent every summer at her house. I was in her watchful and loving care the day the Northridge Earthquake happened. Even as my twin brother Nick and I were jolted from our bed, terrified at the swinging chandelier above our heads crashed into the ceiling from side to side, she, ignoring how dangerous it was for her, rushed into the back bedroom where my grandfather now sleeps to make sure we were okay.

At points in my life she lived a hundred miles away and then at others just around the corner. Her phone number was the first number I ever memorized and to this day keep it treasured inside, locked away for safe keeping. I left a lawn un-mowed after collecting the money to do the work because I was so happy to hear I was going to visit her. I remember when we lived up the street from her the best part of the school day was getting stop in and say hello to this amazing person.

My parents raised five kids but I don't think they ever bought us a pair of shoes because every time my grandmother came to visit we went and had them purchased. It was never too much to ask for a bouncing ball out of a grocery store or a cap gun for my brother and I to play Sheriff with. I have this vague memory of a toe being ran over by a grocery cart full of food. I can't remember if it was Nick, my twin, or me (we seem to share memories) because all I remember is one of us trailing behind my grandma saying, "Ow...ow....ow....ow" with each step and her finally turning around going: "What is...Oh my god what happened?!" Beautiful.

The hours I spent watching the Mary Martin version of Peter Pan, Mary Poppins and the Wizard of Oz. When those tapes wouldn't do she would take us out to the movies, and complain about how expensive 3.50 cents was. Simply magical.

I remember one year my Grandmother dressed up as the Wicked Witch for Halloween, and without telling us, she came to visit. When my brother and I got out of school she hid behind a corner and waited for us. That wonderful woman chased me and my brother all the way home. I remember specifically that Halloween feeling like it was taking forever to go Trick or Treating.

There were even times I, even today, feel like I said such horrible things to her. I remember one time she was visiting us, again, a hundred miles from her own home, and I told her I wished she never came to visit. She didn't yell at me, or anything of the sort, she just got in her car and drove home. Children say brash things but some reason I dreamed that memory last night. I suppose that is the purpose that I am writing this post.

We have had maybe enough arguments between each other to count on one hand. And even in those when I went back to ask her to forgive me for being so rude it was as if nothing had ever happened.

My brother's and I came from such a ... I'll use the word rocky ... childhood. My Grandmother was this beacon of light that I would not realize how brightly she shined until I would be well into my mid 20s adulthood. I have had 29 absolutely blessed years with her in my life and I hope it continues for so many more.

She is single-handedly the glue which, even today, keeps such shifting sand together.

There are memories, and I remember every single one of them, that I can not write down for there is not enough time in the conclaves of the night, but there are countless videos that can be watched from an idle sitting down of the camera to sneakily record to a sloppy Joe commercial competition on a boat. My grandmother has recorded generations of us. Generations... I sit in a room surrounded by clocks and they tick away. Moving forward through time and each small noise of advancement breaks my heart because I know that all things move towards a conclusion and a finish line. My grandmother has recently often spoke about how she is nearing the end of her life. Then she smiles about it and pats you on the cheek when you ask her not to talk about it, and just chuckles, "Well it's true." There are no immediate signs that we are worried about, just the passing of time, and I pray with every ounce of my heart that it stays that way.

I hope, like I said before, for many many more years with my grandmother in my life. I am posting this right now and am going to email her the link to this page because I want her to know that she is the most important woman in my life, and while I could never love her as much as I know she loves me, I would die trying if it was possible.

I love you Grandma.

It's Official - the Occupy movement are Terrorists

It is amazing to me how disconnected people can be from reality. Our world seems to be collapsing on itself and people don't look at why or how. The reality is that we live in a world where many people must suffer and one person shall be in comfort. This article suggests that no hard working tax paying members of our society agree with the Occupy movement. I believe that is only hard working tax paying members of our society that agree with the Occupy movement. What this editor does not understand is that the people of this world are coming to the conclusion that the deck which is stacked so against them is not fair, and they do not want to play by unfair rules. People who live sheltered away from the world, using their dollars to control the flow of their lives believe that the economy that affects us all is a game that they have won. The reality is that in a game when a person wins you start over.

I find it entertaining because it is the wealthy who create poor people. Every time a wealthy corporation refuses to pay a wage that is capable to live off of they create a poor person. They act like some odd degree of separation makes it not their fault: but it always has been. Then after creating the poor person by their direct actions they feel it is not their responsibility to take care of them. THEY believe that because you are poor you don't deserve to live. THEY have always believed that, just ask the people on the Titanic, an entire grouping of people sentenced to death because they were poor.

I will stop with this thought and let you read a direct transcription of the article I am talking about. Leave your thoughts and tell me what you think. Many people will not agree with my point of view, but I wonder, and would like to know, who agrees with the editor?


What follows is a direct transcription of  the May 3rd San Marino Tribune:

"Is it Time to End the San Marino Police Department?

Why does little San Marino even have its own police department? That question demanded an answer last Thursday evening when an army of anarchists of the “Occupy” movement assaulted a private residence in the middle of San Marino for the third time.

Obviously deferring to protesters who have apparently declared open season on San Marino’s homes the officers from the San Marino homes. The officers from the San Marino Police Department and four other neighboring law enforcement agencies stood idly by as self-proclaimed “protesters” again descended on the home of longtime resident, civic leader, you soccer coach, Honorary Rotary Paul Harris Fellow and Tribune Citizen of the Year Tim Sloan. The ‘Occupy’ mob trapped his wife and daughter inside while they trespassed on the Sloan’s Woodstock Road property.

San Marino had only three or four officers on duty at the time. When our police chief finally arrived (ninety minutes after the attack) the SMPD had to rely on mutual aid from Pasadena, South Pasadena, Alhambra and San Gabriel before declaring an unlawful assembly two hours after protesters showed up! Were they lawful for the first two hours? How long is a mob allowed to threaten innocent women and children in San Marino? During the time it took the police to end the threat to the homeowner, you could toss an overnight bag into your car, cruise up the 101 Freeway, check into a bed & breakfast in Santa Barbara and sip a glass of wine on the patio before our police could decide what charges to file.

This third infringement on the Sloan residence asks another question: Is everybody fair game in San Marino just because they have a good job?

Three times now, and this was the worst, three times!

And what of our police department? Are they still operating under orders from the city council members “don’t do anything, don’t chase the bad guys. Get them across city limits where they are someone else’s problem.” Are they prohibited from protecting us by a council’s fear of a lawsuit? That’s what the Tribune believes. Are they really told to circle the block two times with sirens blaring just to make sure the bad guys get away so our SMPD won’t catch anybody and maybe get sued?

Since when did a private residence become a public protest area? Under the law it is not, but apparently if you live in San Marino, have a job a pay taxes and are responsible citizen you are a target for any group with a gripe. It’s high time for City Attorney Steve Dorsey to seek an injunction to keep people off the Sloan’s and any other property these trouble makers attempt to use as a platform for their ‘cause.’ That same group got permits to march downtown Los Angeles on Tuesday to celebrate the world wide communist workers “may day” observance.

What about our San Marino police chief John Schaefer? Is he acting on orders from the city council to stand down or is this his attitude towards police work?

Our men, women and children are now targets of any protester group that can get to San Marino. What is needed in response is a clear message from this police department and this city council to the anarchists: Enough is enough.

If the San Marino Police Department won’t defend San Marino and our residents, it’s time to ask Los Angeles County Sheriff Lee Baca to take over. Sheriff Baca is a longtime San Marino resident. He raised his family here. He lives here. The Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department is not afraid to defend innocent women and children inside their homes. The SMPD apparently is afraid to do just that. Rest assured that the Beverly Hills Police Department would never allow any group to target one of its families and force a mom and daughter to hide in their own home while they stood and watched. Our sister newspaper, the Beverly Hills Courier can attest to that.

If the SMPD can’t (or won’t) defend a family from terrorists, it’s time to end the SMPD and bring in the Sheriff’s Department. Tell Mayor Richard Sun and the San Marino City Council. “Defend us or do away with our police department and get us some real law enforcement.”

Call or write our city council-members. Tell them how you feel. Demand answers. If you don’t maybe they’ll occupy your house and terrify your family.

And by the way, you don’t see occupy protesters in La Canada Flintridge where the Sheriff rides heard.. That city has some rich people with jobs too. If our city council cannot or will not fix this situations and make San Marino’s homes off limits to invaders. The city council must be recalled …now.

Three strikes and you’re out."