The Autobiography of Mark Twain

I tried to read this "book" earlier this year, and gave up, not due to frustration, but rather because it was not a pleasant experience. The book is as large as a small mailbox and as heavy as a small bowling ball. A little difficult to rest on your tummy while reading in bed.

I wanted to read it because I so much enjoyed "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer" and "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn." But, rather than being an entertaining and enlightening work about one of the best loved and widest read American humorists and writer, it turned out to be a chest beating, self-celebrating amalgamation devoted to the brilliance of the UC Berkeley editors who, after 20 some years of research determined that Samuel Clemens intended that his autobiography be published in the order in which he dictated it. Duh?

The first 200 plus pages are devoted to describing in painful detail how the diligent editors gathered, assessed and sorted various works and their significance to this splendid volume. Only after wading through all this do you get to the actual autobiography, by which time I had lost interest. It is very much like coming upon a steaming pile of horseshit, you know there are some golden grains of oats in there, but who wants to go pawing (with your readers eyes) through all the crap to find them?

Perhaps someday an enlightened editor will have a flash of inspiration and just publish Clemens' tapes as he had intended and provide something the common man (who Clemens so obviously loved) can enjoy. This present work is more like a doctoral thesis written by a committee intended for use only by like-minded souls.

Justice?

Have you been following the San Jose Rape case? It just concluded yesterday and the outcome was foreordained. Once again the victim was found guilty. The jury reasoned that Jane Doe asked for it and even if she didn't, she deserved it. There was no way, they determined, that eight "fine young athletes" would force themselves on a semi-comatose 17 year-old girl, unless they were so overcome by her wiles as to be helpless themselves. What a crock!

These young men have grown up feeling entitled to anything their little hearts desired because they have a modicum of athletic skill or talent. But in the core of their humanity they lack the essential quality of compassion for human dignity and care for the helpless. Their moral compasses are non-functional.

It would be fitting for these warriors to someday become fathers of girls, and then have to explain their behavior in this disgusting affair to their daughters. Good luck with that.

Here for posterity are their names:

Christopher Knopf
Kenneth Chadwick
Spencer Maltbie
Ryan Kanzaki
Cesar Gutierrez
Luis Cardenas
Stephen Rebagliati
Scott Righetti

I note that they were accused but were not found guilty. That should not be construed, however, as having been found innocent.

What am I reading? Recently finished "Freedom" by Jonathan Franzen. Excellent novel about personality, consequences of behavior, family dynamics and getting through it all.



"The Last Days of Ptolemy Grey" by Walter Mosley. What a powerful story in such a short volume. What it means to be totally committed to doing good with your life, even in the last days, whenever or however they might come.



Now reading "Unbroken" by Laura Hillenbrand. Saga of Louie Zamperini, juvenile delinquent, record holding collegian, Olympian and survivor of loss at sea and incarceration by Japanese during WWII.

Nowhere to go but up!

Wow, can you believe it? Pinch me! The nightmare (Bush) is over! I unashamedly wept when Barack took the (muddled) oath of office. A very dramatic moment for us all. Now that the seemingly impossible is fact, seems like the general tenor of the people is "see what we did." We're much better than that, racism has been confronted and is now dead. As a people, we can be justly proud of Barak's achievement, but do we truly think that we have matured beyond our racist past?




In some ways, the national euphoria over Obama as being "our guy" reminds me of the way earlier in our history another African-American was nationally embraced . Joe Louis, the Brown Bomber. I remember my father declaring that "he was a credit to his race." I didn't think anything of it at the time, but on reflection it was not a kind remark because of the implication, that he was okay, but not the "others." But Barak is more than an African-American. He was elected in spite of his race, not because race no longer matters, but because of his vision, character and intellect. He would have been elected president no matter what his race or creed. We need him at this time.



But racism is still our bete noir and not too well disguised. If you don't believe me, then listen to someone who knows. I recently read "Not a Genuine Black Man," a biography of Brian Copeland, KGO radio talk host and stand up comedian here in the Bay Area. Brian grew up in the "progressive" Bay Area during the enlightened 70's. Unfortunately for Brian, his mother moved his family to San Leandro, a white bastion in the region. San Leandroans were proud of their exclusivity and guarded it zealously. There Brian experienced racism of a level that rivals the worst that the South had to offer in the 40's! Granted there were no lynchings, but does getting stoned (hit by rocks) by neighborhood hooligans count? How about being arrested for carrying a baseball bat to the local park, oh, and by the way, he was nine years old at the time!

Intolerance appears in many guises, such as the passage of Proposition 8, banning same sex marriage. A simple majority decided they had the right to discriminate. Brian, in his book, reminds us that in the 60's, after Brown vs. Board of Education and the Civil Rights Act of 1965 had made discrimination unconstitutional, that a majority of Californians also passed Proposition 14, which repealed the "Rumsford Act," a California State law prohibiting discrimination in housing! The California Supreme Court rightfully found that initiative to be in violation of the State constitution's equal rights provisions.

So what does all this mean? To me it means we can be proud of this moment (the inauguration of Barak Obama) but that the struggle to rise above our racist past and intolerance for rights of minorities is not over.

We have no where to go but up, and it is still a long way to go.

Here We Go Again!

Well, one year gone and another one started. Reviewing my plans vs. accomplishments for the year past, there are some pluses and some minuses.





My first goal was to ride my bicycle at least 50 miles per week (that would have resulted in a total of about 2500 miles). I actually rode a little over 1000 miles, or about 20 miles per week. I'll be mounting a new set of tires and changing the battery on my cyclometer this week to start a new quest. My goal is at least 30 miles per week.




The second goal was to learn to play the guitar. I dropped that early in February. I just could not get my finger tips hard enough to play the steel strings. Not a total loss, however, as I gave my guitar to my grandson, James, who took it with him to his new duty station at Ft. Riley, Kansas.



Learning Spanish was a smashing success. While I did not get a chance to attend a full-immersion Spanish School, I did get a chance to travel to Mexico and use my new skills with natives. Watching telenovelas on TV and listening to Spanish radio for a full year was very beneficial. I hope to travel to Costa Rica on another Rotary humanitarian mission this summer. And I still plan to attend a full immersion school in Mexico, but probably not this year.




The last goal related to success in my fishing ventures. We started out pretty strong, but I got sidelined in May through July when one of our cats became seriously ill requiring full time nursing. You can see the results of some of our trips in my postings for last year. The most successful outing was the last one, to the Kennedy Meadows area of the Sierras. I brought home 5 good size rainbow trout that currently reside in my freezer. This year I hope not only to get out more often, but to also try some fishing for stripers in the Sacramento Delta.

I have a few additional goals for this year related to our house. I hope to finally get the house painted (outside) and to clear the garage out enough to be able to park at least one car inside. That will require some serious de-crapping and the elimination of 20 years of accumulated clutter. Also want to install a gas burning insert in our woodburning fireplace.

Let the games begin!

Recuerdos de Mexico!

Just returned from my first trip to the heart of Mexico. Visited Mexico City in the Federal District, the town of Texcoco outside the D.F. and Acapulco. I was the sole representative of the Rotary Club of Sunnyvale on a Rotary humanitarian and education mission. The Primary sponsors were the Rotary Clubs of Cupertino (California) and Texcoco de Gante (Mexico).


We left San Francisco on a gray Wednesday morning on a direct flight to Mexico City. There we were met by our Mexican hosts, represented by Sr. Humberto Mayorga, his lovely wife Adela and their two boys, and our guide Francisco Villanueva (Paco).
Our transportion for our entire stay in Mexico was a 45 passenger bus, which we took to the downtown location of our first dinner in Mexico. There we were introduced to the members of the Texcoco de Gante Rotary Club and their families.

Later that evening we checked into our hotel, the elegant Marquis Reforma. Unfortuately we we only spent one night there. The next morning, after a short bus tour of downtown Mexico City, we headed for Texcoco. There we again joined up with members of the host club to visit the local chapter of Pro Mujer, a project funded by the Cupertino and Texcoco de Gante clubs. Pro Mujer is a micro bank that lends small amounts, primarily to women, to enable them to start businesses. While the funds are loaned to individuals, the women form small syndicates of 12-15 members, elect officers and support each other both in their business enterprises and in paying back their loans.



We witnessed the creation of a new syndicate and the group pay back process. We also visited two business sites created with Pro Mujer funds. The first was a glass factory where the woman and her family fabricate christmas ornaments and other products. There we also sampled a fermented beverage called Pulque that is made from the agave plant. The second was a confectionery where the woman and her family make candies and preserves that are sold in the local markets.



Our visit to Mexico coincided with one of their most important holiday celebrations, the anniversary of the Mexican revolution on November 20, 1910. This resulted in very heavy traffic in the D.F. but a very colorful parade in Texcoco.





After a rather late communal luncheon at the Texcoco club we boarded the bus for a trip to Acapulco, stopping for dinner at a delightful taco restaurant called La Tortuga Cucufata, in Cuernavaca. Ten hours after leaving Texcoco, at 3:00am on Friday morning, we arrived at our destination, the Fairmont Pierre Marques in Acapulco. Fortunately we did not have to assemble until 1:00pm that afteroon!



That afternoon, after a short stop for shopping in the Diana district of Acapulco, we arrived at the Acapulco City Hall where we assisted in the distribution of wheel chairs to local citizens. The wheel chairs were provided through a joint effort of the Rotary Clubs of Texcoco de Gante, Acapulco Icacos and Acapulco, A.C. and the Wheel Chair Foundation. A total of 65 chairs were distribute in Acapulco. We assisted with the distribution of 27 that afternoon and another three home deliveries on Saturday.



The event was capped off by a beach party at the hotel where we ate, drank, sang, and danced until midnight. While we "viejos" went off to bed, a contingent of "jovenes" went to the local disco where I understand they partied until 4:00am.

After a morning swim, and breakfast in the terrace restaurant, we boarded our bus for one last time for the ride to the Acapulco airport. There we experienced the most difficult time of all in saying goodbye to our wonderful friends and their families.

I can't wait to go back!

What's in a name?

I recall that when I was young it seemed that everyone had or used a name other than their given name. My uncles and aunts in particular had different and strange appellations. On my mother's side there were uncles - Beadie (Bill), Muggs (Allen) and Buster (Tony). Mom was Sis. On my father's side there were uncles (in Spanish "titos") - Paco (Frank) and Nino (Manuel) and aunts (in Spanish "titas") - Carmen (never called anything but Carmen), Maizie (Maria), Josie (Josefina) and Babs (Dolores). In fact, we had two tita Carmens, each of whom was married to a tito Frank. One was a Ribera, the other a Perregrina. My maternal grandmother (Mary) was called Maggie by her family. My paternal grandmother (Consuelo) was just 'uelita, which is a close as I could come to abuelita, or little grandmother.



Our family name is not really Ribera, but Rivera. I heard several tales about how that change came about. Here is the one that was most often repeated and is possibly true. Grandpa Ribera, Francisco, who died 10 years before I was born, was a skilled carpenter in Spain. When he first came to the U.S. in 1915 he worked on many of the fine homes in Portola Valley and Hillsborough. To take care of his sizeable family (7 kids) he also worked in the local cement quarry where he contracted lung disease that made him an invalid for the final years of his life. At the quarry they paid the workers in alphabetical order and the story is he changed the spelling of his name so that he would get paid before the other men named Rivera. Well, that's just one story.



Not well known outside the affected families is the manner in which many Spaniards came to California in the early part of the 20th century. Because of the strict quotas on immigration of undesirables from Southern Europe, including Spain and Italy, many rejected the arduous path through Ellis Island and came across the Pacific and through the Hawaiian Islands. At that time Hawaii was a U.S. territory. A family could indenture (contract) themselves to a Hawaiian plantation owner for five years to work in the cane fields. At the end of the indentured period they would (1) be free of their labor commitment and (2) have established residency, which would permit them to relocate to the mainland without going through immigration. I've met many Californians of Spanish ancestry whose families had that same experience.