ACE in the Hole

Over the weekend, Kerry and I helped a man from TJ load my queen sized loft bed into his truck (scroll down for accompanying blog post). Our next door neighbor (not in our apartment complex, but one of the adjacent homes) approached us to find out what all the commotion was about. Once she was caught up on the bed, and between short Spanish phrases to our new friend, we chatted about what was happening in her life. She mentioned several trips she was preparing for, including one to Texas for a high school reunion (OGHS '98 grads, we'd better be in touch 40+ years from now!). She plans to stay in Texas for a month and then--here's the kicker--head back for a trip organized by ACE. She mentioned ACE as if everyone was clearly familiar with the organization. Of course, I was clueless.

"What's ACE?" I asked hesitantly. 

"Ohhhhh!" Her eyes lit up, and a broad smile spread across her face. "American Coaster Enthusiasts! I've been a member for years and years. They plan trips to see rollercoasters. And I get this newsletter and magazines . . . . I'm also a member of the European club, although I haven't been on their trips yet, but I will some day." 

Cool organization, in my opinion, for anyone to join. What I haven't told you yet, however, is her age. She told me once, but I honestly don't remember. I know she qualifies for the senior discount (it came up). 

Admittedly, I just stood there smiling in mild shock, allowing it to sink in that this woman-- who regularly wears crazy bright colors, a visor with a rainbow stripe, mardi gras beads, buttons, T-shirts purchased over the decades as momentos of her adventures, and I think is in her 70s--was an active member of a roller coaster club. It's not that I thought she couldn't be, and trust me, I believed her. I suppose I just didn't expect it.

Finally, I managed to exclaim, "Get outta town! That's SO COOL! My friends and I were just checking out the new coaster in Ohio that moves in a circle as it makes its way along the track . . ." 

She enthusiastically (no pun intended . . . American Coaster Enthusiasts) broke in. "Ohhhh, yeah, yeah! Pipe Scream, I think . . . I was reading about it in my Coaster Magazine." Now, who would have thought that this woman would be so on top of the latest coasters? 

  

When I'm able to stumble upon a topic that clearly causes passion and excitement--particularly if we're just getting acquainted--I try to keep talking about it, which of course is easier when the topic also happens to be something that I love, like roller coasters. "So," I inquired, raising one eyebrow, "which do you prefer: the newer, faster, crazier coasters or the traditional rickety wood coasters?" I never did get an answer. After pointing out the pluses and minuses of each, I think it's safe to say she's on the fence. Plus, you can't play favorites. Gotta try it all, right? ;-)

As with each and every day, there are many lessons in this story. None of them are new necessarily. You don't really know someone until you take the time to really talk with them. Life doesn't have to end as you age. Even if you live alone (and she may fully prefer it that way), you're never truly alone, and there may be friendly souls in places you least expect. I wonder . . . is she thinking something similar about me? I may be young--though not as young as I once was, funny how that works--but I find joy and connection in all ages and diverse people. 

I have my dad to thank for that, at least in part. I was raised belonging to a religious organization (that I am no longer a part of, but many things about it helped to create the woman I am today) in which the children, their parents, their grandparents, the elderly, and the infants, all congregated in one place, at all times. I visited my "Grandma Bennie," who wasn't even related to me, until she passed away. To this day, my dad's best friend, John Herman, is old enough to be his father. I consider John a good friend, as well, though I don't see him as much as I would like. In fact, I just remembered as well a project I had in elementary school where I had to interview an older family member and write a report about what we talked about. I interviewed my great grandma, my "Nanny." She was traveling around the world until the day she died. We played Scrabble together, and I'm convinced that she had a hand in at the very least encouraging my competitive edge.

Naida, the neighbor who belongs to ACE, if you're reading this blog (and I hope you were able to find it), I want to say thank you. Thank you for talking to Kerry and I, for sharing your stories of your adventures and your travels, and for telling us about a time we don't remember. I know we have plenty of time left to catch up and exchange stories (maybe I can even have you over to watch a movie on Netflix or watch coaster videos on YouTube). We live in a world world dangerously close to being overthrown by technology, where we convince ourselves that we are "too busy" to stop and say hello (it's an illusion, by the way, the whole notion of "busy"), or sometimes we are afraid that people won't care to chat. Just do it. Say hello. Chat. You only live once, and by darn, Naida and I will be enjoying the ride from the front row!

One Man's Trash

After being awake since 4am for a 5am shift, I was looking forward to sharing a Peet's Coffee & Tea Mango iced tea and good conversation with Kerry and our neighbor, Martin. I was mildly shocked when a man in a pick-up truck passed by us in the alley, rolled down the window, and actually spoke to us. "Excuse me. Ehhhh, you have furniture?" he asked, gesturing to his truck bed. It took us a moment to realize he was asking if we had any unwanted furniture that he could take off our hands. 

It's not atypical, especially on weekends, to see guys in pick-up trucks cruising the alleys for cast-offs of any type: mattresses, desks, tables, clothes, electronics, anything that will fit on that truck bed. With treasures piled higher than one would ever imagine possible, the men (and women, sometimes) carefully make the trek south back home . . . to Tijuana, Mexico, and families eager to see what the day has brought them. It's quite common in San Diego, actually. The goods are brought back to TJ and donated to families who need them. My neighbors joke that "those guys will take anything. Just leave it by the dumpster and it'll be gone by morning." It's kind of true. 

One man's trash is another man's treasure . . . 

So what was different about today's experience? I'll tell you. Today, the man could have continued down the alley, seeing nothing in plain sight that he could load up on his truck. But he didn't. He took the initiative, and he asked if we had anything we would like to give. He wasn't pushy. He was sincere, humble (his English "is not so good"), and he was kind. I couldn't pass up this opportunity.

Some of you are aware of my queen sized, solid wood loft bed. I used it for a few years, moved it twice (thanks to my dad and our family friend, Kyle, and Kyle's truck), before finally deciding I needed to downgrade to a more traditional box spring and mattress on a metal frame. That decision was made at least 4 years ago. It's always bothered me that such a beautiful piece of furniture, custom made for a couple that was in their 80s by the time I bought it for $600 (half what they were asking), was just gathering dust in my garage. And believe me, I tried to get rid of it. Posted it on Craigslist, contacted donation centers, hoped someone would want it. No takers, even free. It was simply too awkward and cumbersome to justify picking up. Not to mention, putting it together without essembly instructions (but I was willing to throw in wood stain that came with it!). By the time Kerry moved in, it became evident that I needed the space in the garage. Plus, I couldn't shake the guilt that perfectly good firniture was going to waste. 

So yes, this man driving by and asking, "You have furniture?" was quite a blessing. I told him I might, but we would need to see. I sized up the truck, which already had 2 flexible mattresses, a wood corner display case, a chair, and some other things. I must admit, I had my doubts. Besides, it's been years since I've seen all the pieces of the bed, and I've been lucky in the past having other people to help disassemble, move, and reassemble it. This man, though, was confident that it would fit. "No problem, no problem," he kept repeating with a smile. I told him it was heavy; he pointed to his large biceps. Okay, I thought to myself, this guy wants to try, more power to him. I opened up the garage, and he looked at the many pieces that comprise the monstrosity of a bed, lifted up a piece to check the weight, and declared, "Yes, I will take it." 

Together, Kerry and I helped who I later learned is Felipe Hernandez rearrange his truck and add every single last piece of that bed. He secured everything with numerous straps and ropes. As we worked and sweated, we talked about our families, our homes, and our jobs. He explained to Kerry that he would bring back all the items he collected and give them to a family in need in TJ. We talked about the violence in his country right now, and he surprised and briefly saddened both Kerry and me with a story about his coworker who was fatally shot last month by a gunman who randomly opened fire at a party. The man was playing guitar in a band over the weekend, didn't show up to work on Monday, and Felipe found out the devastating news later that day. To lighten the mood, he wrote down the name of a video on YouTube that his daughter posted of him and another family member dancing at a party. In the video, Felipe is playing guitar, wearing boots, shorts, and a sombrero. "Es muy chistoso!" he giggled (it is, by the way. If you want to see it, ask me, and I'll provide the YouTube link or video title).

So many lessons in this somewhat random interaction. Language barriers are only barriers if you give them that power. Nothing is impossible with a little help from your friends. Don't assume something won't work; try it, and then assess the situation. Along those lines, don't assume that just because what you want isn't out in plain view, it doesn't exist. ASK. And finally, be grateful. Be grateful every day for what you have and for what is passed on for you to enjoy.

It took us a full two and half hours to get the bed and all the additional items loaded into the truck and well secured. I discovered the bed on Craigslist over ten years ago. After watching the posting and realizing that nobody was buying it, I finally broke down and begged my parents to help me purchase and move it, making my childhood dream of owning a loft bed a reality. I am so incredibly thankful for this unexpectedly productive and heartwarming day. Thanks to one man making the most of an opportunity, somebody else will be able to enjoy that wonderful, albeit large, piece of furniture . . . which I am confident they will treasure for generations to come.

Felipe and his treasures.
If you would like Felipe to come pick up items you no longer use, I have his contact information.

Toys, Engineering, Eggs (huh?), and CWIC (Celebrating Women in Computing)

"[:02] This is your brain.

[:17] This is your brain on princess.

[:40] This is your brain on engineering.

[1:18] Any questions?"

http://youtu.be/ArNAB9GFDog

Seen it yet? Debbie Sterling and her amazing company GoldieBlox have done it again. If you aren't familiar with her work, I highly recommend her Tedx Talk, "Inspiring the Next Generation of Female Engineers: Debbie Sterling at TedxPSU." What will YOU do to ensure girls are not just allowed but ENCOURAGED to build, design, code, take apart, investigate, and even (safely, with adult supervision) blow things up and fly? 

You know I love a princess. However, I also love giving girls and women a CHOICE. It's now undisputed that the toys our girls are provided as options comprise, at least in part, whether subliminally or knowingly, their beliefs regarding the roles they are capable of having in society. Yes, what is possible, what is accessible, what exists, what is real, even the very dreams of what she wants to be when she grows up--from toys. 

If you have a little girl in your life, get her a GoldieBlox "toy." (If you don't have a girl in your life, you are not off the hook. Go find one. Hint: donate to schools, shelters, doctor's office waiting rooms, and toy drives! If you have trouble finding the product, ask for it. If you're really feeling inspired, ask for the integration of "boys" and "girls" toys in stores (online and off).

The things of play today are the foundational building blocks of our daughters' woman's the world's . . . tomorrow.  Expose her to ALL the options. See what she gravitates toward, her aptitudes, and in doing so, tell her you recognize, appreciate, and respect her mind. (And yes, still let her play with dolls). 

You see, putting toys designed to develop the minds of budding engineers on the play rug next to those for dress-up and babies (conspired to create consumers of make-up and motherhood?) is more powerful than you may think. Through toys, we acknowledge careers and give permission to dream, and deliver a powerful message--we believe she is capable of success. It's a promise--a promise to give her the tools, resources, education, and support necessary to ACCESS, PURSUE, and ultimately SUCCEED in making her engineering/IT/CS/etc dream a reality. 

It is MY dream that some day people can look back on this post and not understand it . . . because why wouldn't a little girl play with engineering toys (remember Mouse Trap?) and of course she can be in IT! I am confident that we will get there. 

The Celebrating Women in Computing conference I attended over the weekend was primarily geared toward college-aged women pursuing degrees in IT (both undergrad and postgrad). (Click here for program details, and view information on the keynote speakers and topics here . . . the Academic Keynote was fascinating, but that's another blog entirely). I was both inspired and humbled by the participants. I was also thrilled to see the encouragement they were receiving by so many huge industry names (sponsors include Google, Qualcomm, Microsoft Research, ACM-W, ViaSat, Yelp, General Atomics, Harvey Mudd College, UCSD, Point Loma Nazarene University, UCSB, and Pomona College).

A real-life example of the kind of programs I am referring to was provided by the participants of WISH Cal Poly (Women Involved in Software & Hardware), "club that was founded by females of the Computer Science Department at California Polytechnic State University, San Luis Obispo, in 2007." Student mentoring programs like WISH are catapulting us in the right direction. According to the WISH website:

"WISH has two primary aims:

1. Providing a community of support for females in computing majors and minors.

2. Continually evaluating and attempting to rectify the gender gap in computing majors and minors and/or looking for the reasons behind the gender gap."

Listening to the panel of four students and their faculty advisor, Julie Workman, gave me goosebumps. I am a strong supporter of mentoring programs and the passion and support it breeds. It also made me a little sad, for if I had access to that kind of program 15 years ago, I just might have had the courage to declare CS as a major myself. I hope that some day, we don't need WISH. We're not there yet, though. 

Women with a career in computing and engineering, I applaud you. I urge you to look into programs to encourage more women and girls to follow in your footsteps, and should you not find any, to CREATE it (after all, BUILDING is what you do). Don't stop there. Be a mentor. Help her graduate, and then make those big names fight for her. Yes, she's just THAT good :D

Upside Down in a Cave

For a caterpillar to become a butterfly, he must be turned upside down. It is in this state, where down is up and up is down, that he builds his cocoon. 

Imagine building a lego house that you cannot look at directly, only in the reflection of a reflection. This is how he must feel. Still, it gets done . . . because it has to, and it is the only thing he knows to do.

In this cave, soft and cozy on the inside and hard on the outside, he is protected against the elements--rain, wind, cold, animals, and other preying insects. Turning his world upside down--seeing things in a new way, and building despite the obstacles, because he is driven by a force larger than himself--are necessary for his transition into the next stage of his life. The cocoon he builds, which alienates him from his surroundings, prove to be vital shelter as his body changes and he dons his beautiful wings.

I've always wondered if it is difficult for the butterfly to emerge from the cocoon. We present the unveiling to children as a majestic miracle, always with a lesson of perseverance. As I imagine it, though, that butterfly in that cocoon at first wants nothing to do with the outside world, where it's cold, predators abound, and food must be found. 

I imagine him sitting snuggly in that cocoon, lifting this new heavy appendage just slightly, taking a whiff and declaring, "Whewwwwieeee! I've gotta get outta here! I reek!" And so he struggles and fights until finally he is free. 

He doesn't simply spread his wings effortlessly and fly away, though, like in the children's stories. No, he rests, just outside his cocoon. He must be exhausted. In some way, he is clinging to his former home that kept him safe, probably still gaining nourishment from the lining before he has to let go and fly. 

Imagine how he must feel in this new body, which is more than slightly awkward and takes some time to get used to--heavy appendages instead of lightweight little spines, which he has to learn to control and to use WITH the wind, instead of fighting to cling to a branch like he used to just to make it through the day. 

Yes, the only way for this little caterpillar to move to the next stage was to intentionally turn his own world upside down, and with this new perspective and worldview to build a little cave of protection as he undergoes the most profound transformation of his short life before he exerts himself like never before and never again to emerge anew, and even then, he must let go and fight against the goo that attaches him to his home, spread those big heavy wings . . . and find the courage to fly . . . fly . . . into the great unknown.

"Out, Damned Spot!"

Heartbreaking... We have lost another gay rights activist too soon. 

Isa Shakhmarli committed suicide at the young age of 20, hanging himself with a rainbow flag. 

He encouraged the gay community to be brave, and as a gay man fighting for gay rights and living in the predominantly Muslim Azerbaijans (formerly part of the Soviet Union), he walked the talk. "I wish our society was not biased. Before hating, read about homosexuality on the Internet, learn about it. I want LGBTs to be brave.[. . . ] If you want, you can achieve." He is not alone in his plea for bravery, as I will discuss in an upcoming blog (link to come).

It is far too easy for those of us in the gay community--particularly in the comparably privileged Western society--to feel we are doing our part to further gay rights and distance ourselves from the fight in other parts of the world. Yes, we feel saddened by news of tragedy like that of Isa, but we feel our hands are clean . . . but are they? 

In a Facebook message to his friends just prior to taking his own life, Isa wrote, "You are all guilty for my death. This world cannot handle my true colours. Goodbye." Powerful words . . . and we hear you, Isa. We will stand bravely and continue your work. We burned a candle for you last night, and for all those whom we have lost too soon.

Visit Global Post: http://bit.ly/1aRNExd or on Huffington Post: http://bit.ly/LQrFAk to read more.

"Out, damned spot! out, I say!"
-Shakespeare, Macbeth, Act 5 Scene 1

Basking in the Glow

Dad and I were walking back to my apartment after a wonderful Sunday brunch yesterday when Dad interrupted me mid-sentence, stopping me with a whispered, "Shhhh… Wait… What's that?" 

I swear, my dad is part canine. He tilted his head to one side, narrowed his eyes, raised his nose up to the sky for a couple of good sniffs, then glanced over at me expectedly . . . When I recognized the noise as well, his eyes lit up, excited that I was sharing in his discovery. A cat's sweet meow… but where was it coming from? 

"Ah-ha!" he declared, and pointed up. And there was Itchy, the neighbor's cat, named after his

multitude of allergies and medications, high in the tree. He must have seen us walk by beneath him and paused his bear-like branch scratching to temporarily relieve his chronically irritated skin. It's as if he was calling to us, "Guys, guys, hey come say hi! Look at me, I'm in the tree! It's sooooo great!"

My dad, of course, went into firefighter mode, telling Itchy, "Don't worry, kitty! You must have known I am a retired fire captain and can rescue you from that tree!" I laughed. "Dad, step down. That's just Itchy, probably the friendliest cat I've ever met. He doesn't need saving! He loves trees, but he loves people and love and conversation even more." 

Itchy stayed in the tree for a bit, chattering away and posing for my iPhone camera as he made his way down the jungle gym of limbs before expertly scurrying down the tree trunk. In a flash, he was purring away at my feet. My dad continued home to put the leftovers away, and I stayed behind to bask in the warm rays of the sun with Itchy.  

My dad returned shortly, and I reluctantly got up from my happy place on the sidewalk with my feline friend. As I walked my dad back to his car, I turned to see Itchy watching me fondly, reveling in the afterglow of my attention. I smiled, grateful for my dad's keen hearing and appreciative for a life that affords me the comfort to pause, listen, and pet.  

Such a Wise Bear: Brief Thoughts on Winnie the Pooh

What a wonderful collection of Winnie the Pooh quotes to start my Monday, posted by Huffington Post. I've loved Winnie the Pooh since childhood, and it's a love I will never outgrow... 

Through the characters of "Winnie the Pooh" and his many adventures, Milne shared with us the gift of a creating an accessible dialogue about both common motifs in literature and also the seemingly small idiosyncrasies that--when not addressed with compassion--cause heartache, despair, and debilitating negative self-talk. I most appreciate the art and skill with which A.A. Milne wrote about difficult subjects--death, separation, love, loneliness, rejection, fear, friendship, grief, depression, anxiety, growing up and aging, and even the common belief that creative people are scattered. Most of these subjects are common motifs in literature. 

I loved Pooh as a child through several mediums--books (of course), Disney cartoons, and even a ritual that I continued into my teens of watching the "live" version on the Disney channel where actual people dressed as the characters. Of course, we can't forget the stuffed animals. I sewed my own with felt and embroidery thread using patterns found in a book on the second floor of the Escondido Public Library (the Children's Library, one of my most favorite places as a child). I'd like to get a copy of that book for my home library... Maturity, age, and experience have only added more layers to the depths and complexities of this simple bear, his friends, and their adventures. Don't worry, Pooh Bear, I will never forget you... and you will forever be in my heart.

I invite you to revisit your childhood with me and get reacquainted with my favorite bear, Winnie the Pooh, by visiting http://huff.to/1igPpM1

Here are two of my favorite "Winnie the Pooh" quotes from the Huff Post article that speak to me as the person I am today:

“One of the advantages of being disorderly is that one is constantly making exciting discoveries.” 

“Some people care too much. I think it's called love.”