All a man needs out of life is a place to sit ‘n’ spit in the fire.

Author: Jim (Page 24 of 51)

Father of 4, Engineer, Social Worker, longtime blogger, #linux user. Opining on the internet? What else is it for?

Community Organizer

There was much to be ashamed of during the Republican National Convention, but I’m just going to pick one moment to tear apart.  I think one is enough, and after I gut it and lay its entrails open, y­ou’ll see just what I’m talking about, just what the Republicans are offering.

Although I don’t consider myself a community organizer, I do work with a lot of the same needs in my community as Barack Obama.  I consider it a privilege to mentor and share time with youthful offenders from, what Americans would consider, the "inner city," people who come from the projects. 

In Puerto Rico our "projects" are not segregated in specific areas of the city, congregated and sequestered far from the day to day life of "normal" folks.  Our projects are everywhere, and they have all the same problems you find on the south side of Chicago.  The projects are controlled by gangs.  The police are out-gunned, out-flanked, and out-manned.  The residents of the projects have no where else to go.  They could try to get out, but where would they go?  They live on public assistance, their children exposed daily to violence, fear, and a culture that offers them the way out – run this errand, sell these drugs, lookout for the police, and you will have the flashy car, the jewelry, the girl, and the respect.  It is the only way forward for these kids, and it is why I meet them in prison, why I talk to them, why I have compassion for them, and contempt for the system that foments this aberration.

Barack Obama saw the same things I see every day.   He saw a huge community of lost potential, wasted lives of violence, drugs, and guns.  He saw kids not nurtured and edified, wrapped in the warm embrace of love, but cold hard shafts of steel forged in heat, anger, and fear.

I don’t know for sure, but I can imagine Barack Obama had the same calling I did.  He decided that the war on terror begins at home, and it doesn’t begin with "shock and awe" but with service to the poor.  Barack Obama began his life’s work in the trenches doing what Christians would call the work of Jesus.  If you consider yourself a follower of the ways of Jesus, and you are not actively seeking to serve the most miserable and lost of our society, you are not living the message.  How come you are not engaging, putting your lives at risk in response to the great gift you have been given?

But Barack Obama did. 

He risked himself to go into communities held hostage by apathy and neglect and dealt with fatherless households, lawlessness, poor infrastructure and public schools, and a host of other problems that "white America" only sees on television.  "Oh my goodness, that’s so horrible," they say, "I’m glad I don’t live there."  Barack Obama didn’t say that.  He rolled up his sleeves and got involved.

So that’s why I was so insulted when I heard Rudy Guliani mock him in such a disrespectful manner (quote msnbc.com). 

"You have a resume from a gifted man with an Ivy League education. He worked as a community organizer.”

He paused and then said, “What?” as if to express befuddlement at that job title.

Giuliani had eloquent body language — a dismissive half-shrug — as he said the words, “community organizer.”

Immediately the delegates on the convention floor burst into laughter and guffaws.

GOP vice presidential candidate Gov. Sarah Palin also poked fun at Obama’s work as a community organizer, contrasting it with her own work as a mayor.

Don’t kid yourself.  It was not an off the cuff remark but conscious and deliberate.

If you consider yourself a Christian why would you ­laugh?  Jesus, was the son of a carpenter, a good Jewish boy with a bright future ahead of him as a respected tradesman.  He didn’t take that path though.  He threw it all away to spend time with the downtrodden, the cast out, the lost, and abandoned. He dedicated himself to a life of being a "community organizer."

And he got mocked too.

Sandy Munchkins

Here are Javier and Asier at Lake Michigan immersing themselves in some great construction project I like to call "The Big Dig."

I think we need to get the engineers in here to make a determination.

Hey Javier, you need to compact that better for optimum strength. 

Oh, I love sand.  Sand in my hair – sand in my mouth – sand in my pants – and sand in my ears.  Love it!

You Are Not the Sum Total of Your Accomplishments

I was reading this article entitled: "Why Great Men like John Edwards Cheat"

It’s a great article and I think spot on as to why we see politicians cheat on their spouses.  Of course, it begs the question, who says John Edwards is "Great"… but I digress.

­In the course of reading this article I keep hearing my pastor, Fr. Vega, give variations on his favorite sermon: "You are not your job.  You are not a doctor, lawyer, politician.  You are not loved for your accomplishments.  You are you.  Be you, fully you and only you.  Know you are loved as you are."

The measure of how often and how far we are as a society from this ideal is revealed in the quantity of people who are miserable in their jobs, dead, bored, unhappy, yearning for something better, more meaningful, more important, more in line with what they think they deserve.  Sometimes it just takes someone to tell them them how meaningful they and their job really are.

I was visiting a cracker manufacturing plant for a local trade organization a while back, writing an article on products made in Puerto Rico.  My intent is always to always get a human angle on the thing, find a compelling story, simple and touching.  I surprised one of the cracker inspectors by asking him what the best part of his job was.  He looked a little confused, irritated, and put out by the question, like, what the hell do you mean, "best part.  It’s hot as hell in here and I’m looking at stupid crackers all day.  I’m a trained monkey."

"No, I mean, do you have kids?"

"Yes," he answered, "three boys."

"Oh, I bet they love what you do.  What are their favorite crackers or cookies?"  A smile cracked his face.  "They love the florecitas and -"  And on he went through the different products.

"My kids eat these too.  They love them," I replied. These simple adulations I think caused him to reconsider his position, his job, maybe himself.  I wasn’t telling him he was the greatest cookie inspector in the world or that being a cookie inspector was going to get him a mansion in the hills.  No, I simply reminded him of how he impacted and touched others in a meaningful way.  There was something of value in being a cookie inspector, and better yet, there were people who loved him for it – simple and honest.

When I was commanding an Army unit, a shower, laundry, and sewing quartermaster company of 120 or so soldiers, I was always combating this tendency.  "What do you do," someone would ask a solder. 

"We are in direct support of the infantry," they would respond.  If further questions were asked, they would reluctantly admit, that yeah, it was a laundry and shower unit, but that we had powerful weapons.  I, myself, was guilty of this too.  You can see people’s inward snicker when they find out you are a shower and laundry unit.  Cue Korean dry-cleaning jokes, how they want their clothes folded, starched, etc.

The basic problem is this: we don’t really respect ourselves and what we do.  With pride, I tried to say, "I wash clothes for and shower the hard fighting combat troops of the infantry.  You have never seen gratitude until you’ve taken a miserable son-of-a-bitch covered from head to toe in dust and grime and gotten him a hot shower and clean clothes."  In that moment, there are no laundry jokes, no snickers about sewing machines and fashion shows.  He knows how much it means to him, and you know it from the humble thank you.  They all thank you, with deep respect – every last one – for a simple shower.

And personally, even though I’m staring down the barrel of 40, I still have to do intern level tech support such as: crawling under desks, messing with cabling in server closets, and telling people how to use Outlook.  Sometimes it’s damn humiliating.  There have been times when, I overhear the following: "El muchacho está aquí ahora mismo y está bregando con eso."  "The boy (unimportant technician not worthy of having a name) is here now dealing with it."  When did I become the "boy" or the "tech" or some other easily replaceable low level drone?  I have a name, damnit.

But then I remember – because I have learned this lesson many times – and because I write it down for myself in this blog to read later, that I am more than my job, or what I do.  In that moment when I am helping a person, I know that there is nothing more important.  If it was not for me, they would not have email, or a workstation, or an internet connection.  In that moment, I am doing something for them, only for them.  If they are not grateful, and they never are, it smarts, but I know of some truths to which they may not be privy.  I smile an inward smile knowing that I have helped someone. They had a need and I fulfilled it.

I am not my job, but a servant  We would do well to remember that we are all servants.  To serve is divinity itself.

Me and My Bike

I got a note a few months ago from someone who­ saw my Oakland, California skyline photo and wanted to use it on a­ website for bicycle advocacy (http://walkoaklandbikeoakland.org/). They were s­o polite, how could I say no?  Besides, I was flattered.

It was taken in February 1996 overlooking Lake Merritt­ from the upper balcony of 407 Wayne Ave. Now that I’ve checked out their website, I’m inspired to put in my two cents advocating bicycling.  I’ve been commuting and running errands on my bicycle for 24 years or so.

I know it’s an old story, the story of me and my bike, but it bears mentioning again. While I could say that I’m being eco-friendly, I really just love getting out in the morning on my bike. Here are some tips for staying in shape, helping the environment, and saving some money.

  1. Get yourself a nice comfortable cheap city commute bike.  You can pick up some great end of the season deals right now for as little as $350 (http://performancebike.com. Or check out your local bike shop).  That’s a nice entry level bike with all the fixin’s.  The key is to not get sucked into the "high end."   High end is just a synonym for light and expensive.  A lot of times the cheaper componant, wheel-set, shifter, brake, etc, is much stronger and more durable.  It just weighs more.  This is not a problem however, because we don’t care about a few grams of extra weight, as we are not Olympic class racers.  Besides, if you want your bike to weigh less, it’s probably a better idea to drop some pounds yourself first, huh?  So buy cheap and tough, not expensive and light.  Got it? 
  2. As I’ve said before, I have some Rob Beckman bags and a Bruce Gordon rack (great stuff – both) that mount on the back of my bicycle.  They’ve served me well for at least 10 years and make grocery shopping a breeze.  I head out every morning for a short but hilly ride that takes 40 minutes.  On my way home, I stop at a local grocery store and buy the days’ items.  There are six of us – two parents and four kids – and I’m able to accomplish nearly all the grocery shopping by doing it daily on my bike.  There’s a lot of satisfacion in that, let me tell you.
  3. The last point is of course the gas savings angle.  I’ve estimated that I save maybe $6/week in gas doing this (10 miles at 20 mpg 3 times a week with $4/gal – I wouldn’t head out every day if I was driving).  With the prices of gas as high as they are, the monetary gains start to actually impact.  Think about it for a second; that’s $312 a year in gas savings.  That’s the purchase price of a nice Trek or Giant aluminum bike, and it pays for itself in the first year AND you can pocket your gym membership.  You’re getting a great aerobic low impact workout for free.  How many more reasons do you need to get on a bicycle for your daily errands?  Commute to work?  Commute to store?  Fun on weekends?  Win! Win! and Win!
  4. Last point: ignore the little bike shop snobs with their shaved legs and snotty attitudes.  They don’t truly love what t­hey do.  True love doesn’t judge, it says, "Cool, let’s go for a ride."

HDR Photo Forays

I’ve been messing around with Qtpfsgui, a High Dynamic Range (HDR) photo tool for Linux, Mac, and Windows. There are number of processes that on­e can invoke to increase the dynamic range of photos from RAW captures or multiple tripod exposures, but first, an example.

This was taken at dusk at a hotel pool in Rio Grande, Puerto Rico.  Very scary sky.

The basic concept is that your camera can’t really capture a bright sky with a dark landscape.  Set the exposure for your land, and the sky is washed out.  Lower your exposure for the sky, and the land comes out too dark.  Wouldn’t it be nice if you could combine the two and fudge the photo to look more like your eye sees it?  The best way is with a tripod and multiple exposures with different settings, but I’m lazy and I want results NOW.

If you’re shooting RAW in your digital camera, you can capture a little bit more dynamic range than what you see when you export it to a jpg.  Try using an HDR tool to pull out a little more dynamic range or, in my case, heavily process it to give you that funky black velvet painting effect.  Meh, whatever floats your boat.  A lot of people seem to like these images.  ‘Course people seem to loathe them too.

The original photo looks like this:

It’s a nice photo, but the first one is quite dramatic, no?

Here’s another dramatic shot of the Mississippi and Missouri River confluence, shot on a cold day in December from the Missouri side.

May You Live in Interesting Times

Me: I just thought of something.  Where did the word guapo come from?  Do you think it’s a word from indigenous peoples in the Caribbean?

    I was noticing that the gua (Gooah) diphthong sound is associated with the language of the Taino peoples of the Caribbean.   A good many of these words, guanábana (fruit), Guánica, G­uaynabo, (places),  guayaba (another fruit – guava), etc, are all indigenous and you can see their origins from the gua sound. 

Me: So I am wondering about the word guapo (Spanish for handsome).  Could that word have come from the New World?  And if so, why would the Spanish people have needed to appropriate it?  Wouldn’t it have already existed in their language?

    My error is a basic one, as I was to soon find out, but enlightenment is surely a blessing and one of the many benefits of being married to a smart cookie.

Laura: Interesting track of thought, I mean train, or whatever, but remember,  "gua" frequently occurs in Spanish in words that are borrowed through commerce and contact that have a "w" sound in the original language.  Remember "waffle?"  In the Basque Country they called it gofres. Ok, it did not go to GUA but it went to the gutteral "g". Perhaps a better example is the Spanish translation for "wow" is guao or "William" which is Guillermo.  Perhaps the Taino people’s spoken word for the town of Guaynabo, was Whai-NA-bo, and the fruit guanábana was Whai-NA-bah-na. 

Laura: I don’t know for sure, but some time ago I looked up Taino grammar and vocabulary and I found out that "gua" was a common article like "the", "this," "that." This results in phrases, rather than words being translated or transformed into current taíno words we know today. I think in my research I was able to come up with towns that were descriptive phrases "the settlement by the water," "the area by the big tree." Who knows if the name was an actual taíno name or a common way of referring to an area that became Spanish shorthand for a place and hence a name we know today.

Laura: However, in my limited knowledge of taíno words I can’t say they use a strong consonant sound such as "p." So I would be inclined to say that guapo is NOT of taíno origin. But then where did it come from?

Backyard Camping with the Niños

We purchased a tent the other day in anticipation of our great camping trip to the island of Vieques for the 4th of July.  Being a new tent, I set it up in the backyard as a test.  I thought it would be fun to spend the night out there with the kids in a backyard camp out.  I started the evening off with a nice meal cooked in my little hibachi; pureed carrots, pork chops, and Laura’s leftover rice dish.  Oh boy was it good.  Then we piled into our tent.

Note the carrots still lingering in the corners of Javier’s mouth. 

The tent is so huge that there are actually spaces to explore inside.  We bought an add-on that has a portable shower and changing room.  This monstrosity sleeps 10 adults. 

Asier is getting more guapo every day. 

The theory was sound, but at precisely 7pm, the wind died and I spent the night in a sauna.  I hardly slept a wink from the heat, but the kids were out cold… well except for Javier who cried so much we put him in his bed… and Asier who wanted his bed too.  Sigh, so in the end, it was just Jaimito, Olaia, and myself.

I think it’ll be much better though when we set this up on the beach in Vieques.  There’s always a sea breeze.

I Deserve a Prize

Jaimito:  Daddy, Mommy said I deserve a prize.

Me:  Oh really, Jaimito.  Why?

Jaimito: Because I picked up.

Me: Oh great, thanks.  I picked up too.  What do I get?

Jaimito: I don’t know.  Ask Mommy. 

Sledding in the Tropics

Growing up, I always looked forward to winter, the snowball fights, fort building, and the sledding.  I miss it, but we’ve attempted to recreate a little bit of that fun here in the tropics.

Javier flying down the hill

We call it sledding criollo style.  Grab yourself a piece of cardboard, find a nice grassy hill, and away you go.  No cold weather gear required.  As usual, Javier had the most daredevil bad ideas, but everybody had fun. 

Even Asier got into the action.

From Puerto Rico: I Cast My One and Only Vote for Barack Obama

I don’t think it will make much difference, as Hillary Clinton was heavily favored on the island today.  But I considered it an honor to have contributed something to a candidate that I think will transform the US Federal Government into an instrument of the people once again.

Why can’t I vote for him in the general election this fall?  It’s stupid, but it’s a Congressional thing. Protectorates are legal gray area… kinda
like DC, but not.  We are US Citizens,
technically live in the US, …but NOT. It makes no sense.  I could vote if I lived in Europe, but not in Puerto Rico.  Yet, if I am born in Puerto Rico, I am a US citizen.  I’ll leave you to ponder that.

But first, a short chat with Laura from last night.

"Hey did you see that Barack Obama is resigning his church?"  I remarked.

"He did? Wow, I bet black voters aren’t going to be happy about that." 

"I don’t know," I said,  "I think that they understand he’s doing what he has to do. He’s quiet, he’s not angry, he’s dealing with all this with maturity and grace.  It’s probably necessary in order for this whole issue to go away.  It’s the mature thing to do.  It’s like he has to kowtow to whitey, put his head down and endure indignities in order to achieve the prize of lasting change.  Up to now things aren’t so different than they were in the days of slavery.  Am I making any sense?"

"Yes," she said becoming animated. "It’s like Jackie Robinson integrating baseball.  He had to put up with all kinds of nasty behavior, but he let it roll off.  He didn’t fight back, he just quietly went about playing baseball as best he could.  He made his "blackness" a non-issue."

"Wow, that’s a great point, so here we are in the 21st century looking at beginnings of a painful integration of US politics.  How Barack handles it will set the tone for the future for good or bad."  I cracked a grin at the irony of it all.  Here’s a man trying to elevate the debate; there’s no blackness or whiteness but justice, honor, and integrity. And all anybody wants to do is to portray him and his "posse" as a bunch of radical angry black militants, and barring that, that he’s a closet Muslim.  They’re so desperate to character assassinate him, they even dig up a crackpot white Catholic priest and trot him out on youtube.

I sighed.  For now, mainstream America is still scared of the angry black man.  They see an animated, angry preacher who happens to be black and it scares them.  It’s an old and upsetting dynamic; the politics of fear, same ol’ same ol’.  It disgusts both Laura and me.  I hope it disgusts you too.

We voted for change today.  Please, America, let’s elevate the dialog.

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