To celebrate the holiday, I present to you a doodle from my marker board at work.
I was on a *really* long conference call. It was boring. I got distracted.
May you and yours have a fabulous, gluttonous day!
Photo taken by Karen Fayeth with an iPhone 4 and the Hipstamatic app.
So every once in a while, I’ll read something in the daily news that grabs my attention.
Occasionally, something really makes my eyes open wide.
And then every once in a while, I’ll read something that makes my eyes open wide, leap out of my head, fall down on the floor and roll around a while.
The following headline in yesterday’s news had just this effect on me.
Uhhh.
Errr.
“…El Paso has taken the top spot for having the lowest crime rate among cities of more than 500,000 population in the annual rankings by CQ Press, a publishing firm based in Washington, D.C.”
So, yeah, I’m gonna guess that those people at CQ Press haven’t paid a personal visit to El Paso lately.
Look, I’m not going to bag on El Paso. It is the birth place of my best friend, and that itself recommends it highly.
It’s also the birthplace of Sam Donaldson and Gene Roddenbury. So ok. Some decent talent comes from the town that Texas forgot.
Having spent a lot of time in El Paso, I could use a lot of adjectives to describe the city. I’m not sure that the word “safe” would burble up to the top ten.
I’ll be fair here. I’ll even take out the obvious concerns about El Paso sharing a border with arguably the most dangerous city in Mexico.
In the past year, approximately 50,000 additional troops were located to Fort Bliss, an army installation in El Paso. Those 50,000 include both returning troops and soldiers left after bases closed in other states. That 50,000 is soldiers only. Add in spouses, kids, other family and the number of new residents rises.
Then add in the high number of people who are fleeing the violence in Juarez and the numbers climb even higher.
Put it together and you’ll find a city bursting at the seams. You can feel it when you visit, the town is growing so fast that infrastructure is having a hard time keeping pace.
That means busy police, fire and emt forces are being overextended during a period of economic downturn and government cost cutting. Sure, all of the new city residents will pay taxes into the economy which will help shore up infrastructure, but that kind of growth takes time.
And then let’s talk about the ongoing immigration flow through a border town like El Paso. My best friend’s folks live within visual distance of the border highway’s Zaragoza bridge. They have bars on their windows. In their some forty years of living there, they’ve found desperate illegals hiding in their yard. Neighbors have been robbed. Violence occurs (but isn’t often reported). I’ve been sitting in the back yard and heard shots fired.
El Paso is a fine town with a rich history. There is a lot to offer the residents who live in that city. Reasonable real estate costs. The Franklin Mountains are beautiful. UTEP is a fine university. Great weather. Even lots of job opportunities. It may even be a relatively safe city. But safest in the US? I have to question that assertion.
Evidently, I’m not the only one.
Some Call El Paso’s Safest City Ranking ‘Bogus’
Back in March I talked about the Rosanne Cash album “The List,” a collection of songs culled from a list of 100 must-know songs crafted especially for Rosanne by her father.
The List is an essential music history lesson.
That story and the resulting album became the inspiration for my best friend and I to endeavor to create our own list as a legacy for my two goddaughters.
It’s been an ongoing process, serious work, and we’re making progress.
Over the weekend, I had the chance to see Rosanne Cash perform live at the Uptown Theater in Napa, CA.
I’ve been a fan for a while and I think Rosanne is a massively accomplished songwriter. I love the heart and emotion she puts into every lyric.
I figured as a consummate musician, she would put on a great show. I was in no way prepared for how stunning seeing Rosanne perform live really was.
Her backing band, including her husband John Levanthal on guitar, was one of the tightest bands I’ve ever seen. I told The Good Man during the show “I know musicians who would kill somebody to get at her drummer.”
I’ve spent a lot of years in the company of musicians who struggled have a band that is tight and seamless. Rosanne has that in spades.
And talent too. She’s an amazing, emotional and powerful singer. Like any great musician, the sound seems to pour from her effortlessly. It takes a lot of work to make it look that easy.
Then, after putting on a show that brought the house down, Rosanne went to the lobby and signed autographs for her fans. I got her signature on my copy of her recent bestseller “Composed” and had a chance to tell her that my best friend and I are working on our own version of The List.
And when I awkwardly mentioned that her gorgeous song “Seven Year Ache” is on the list, Ms. Cash smiled and shook my hand.
Made. My. Year.
What a powerful, beautiful, wonderful woman.
I am deeply inspired.
Photo by Karen Kristofferson, as posted on her @KarenKristo Twitter stream.
Here in my home, I have this cat that I managed to acquire by marriage, and is now part of my family. I’d had cats before so I knew what to expect going in.
But this cat is something different. Something special. Something about half a bubble off plumb.
Despite rightly being called a “special needs” cat, owing to suffering an especially high fever during her kittenhood, sometimes the wisdom of this not-always-so-smart pet just blows me away.
This cat has no patience for anyone. She wants to sit on your lap, but you’re not allowed to actually touch her. Give her a skritching and you’ll face the grip of her steely jaws.
Food must be delivered on time, or preferably early, or a string of thuggish behavior will ensue that begins with knocking things over and culminates in all out attacks on appendages.
She likes to fight before settling down for sleep at night, often leaving The Good Man with red marks on his arms.
She’s rasty, moody and rather obsessive compulsive.
And, may I mention again, she has no patience for anyone. Or really…anyone who lives in the same house with her.
Guests? Oh, guests are great. She mews coquettishly and rubs legs and climbs up in laps and accepts chin scratches with chirrups and purrs and loving eyes.
In short, the cat is a tart. She’ll give it away to anyone who visits, but for the folks at home…nothing. But here’s where my heart grows soft. This silly, rasty, bitey cat is especially kind to kids.
Yesterday evening, a dear friend brought her eighteen-month-old daughter over to my place to watch Game 2 of the World Series. Her husband is on business travel and she wanted company.
Many cats I know will run hide under the bed when a toddler enters the room.
Not this cat. She adores children. The moment that toddler’s toes hit the ground, we heard “kitty!” and it was off to the races.
The toddler pulled The Feline’s tail, poked her ears and repeatedly hugged the kitty rather roughly. Did the cat run, bite or get nasty?
Nope. She went right back in for more, letting the child maul her while she head butted and purred.
Later, the cat was asleep up on top of her favorite perch, a stack of blankets on an old steamer truck. The toddler noticed the cat again, as though she’d never seen her before, squealed “kitty!” and went racing over.
I kept a close eye on things as I feared The Feline’s patience was running thin. Toddler got a hold of tail and pulled hard. “No, no,” I said, “We don’t pull the kitty’s tail.” The toddler looked at me like I’d lost my mind, but let go.
At that moment, The Feline extended her paw out and I thought, “uh oh.”
Then my rasty, tacky, bitey cat laid her paw (claws very much retracted) very gently on the baby’s forehead. It was sort of like a “that’s ok kid, you can pull my tail. We’re all good.”
And the baby giggled.
It was one of the most gentle and sweet gestures I’ve ever seen between two beings. They found a simpatico.
Again I’m amazed at the…well, I’d use the word humanity, but that wouldn’t apply to a cat…the felinity?…that this little animal displayed.
I’m not much of an animal rights activist type person, but I will say this…never underestimate the soul of an animal. There is personality and spirit that is much to be respected.
Even a wacky, not quite right, bites my toes when I sleep kind of animal like mine.
Taken with my iPhone 4 using the Hipstamatic iPhone app
Last month when I visited New Mexico and stayed with my best friend, I made it a point to spend time visiting one-on-one with each of my two goddaughters.
They are ten and eight now, fully formed people, and their challenges go well beyond walking and eating and sleeping. The so-called “real world” has decided to come roost in their lives, and it is extraordinarily hard for me to adapt as quickly as they have.
My oldest goddaughter is incredibly intelligent and incredibly obstinate too (*coff*herfather*coff*). Her problem is that she is so smart and world savvy that she’s knows when someone is pulling a fast one or isn’t acting in the smartest way.
But she’s only ten going on eleven, so her powers to right the wrongs of this world are slim. So far, anyway.
She told me about how her new teacher this year is teaching the students a new approach to spelling. “I know how to spell, this is so dumb!”
And her teacher is making the students learn long division. By last year she had long division down cold. “Why do I have to do this all again!? It’s such a waste of time!”
You know what? She’s right. She’s absolutely right.
So what do I do as the adult she’s looking to for advice?
Do I do the usual grown up thing and tell her that the grown ups are right and she should just mind what they say?
Because I can’t do that.
Do I tell her fight?! Fight to the end for justice!
No, that’s not good guidance either.
So I dug deep into my own experiences and came up with just this:
“Pick your battles.”
It was advice that was handed to me in my first year of work. Like my goddaughter, I was willing to take on every challenge, rail against the inefficiencies of the bureaucracy, fight the good fight for every injustice.
The mentor assigned to me, a very easy-going sort of fellow who was revered by the leadership of that company was the first to sit me down and tell me this lesson.
Pick your battles.
Figure out the fights that one, you think you can win and two are worth putting all the energy into. If it meets both criteria, then go for it.
And fight for the ones you can’t win if it really, really matters. But remember you can’t fight them all if you want to win any.
So I found myself sitting in the cooling evening breeze in the backyard of a Las Cruces home, imparting this same knowledge to a ten year old.
“Do you honestly expect the teacher is going to look at you and say, ‘wow, you are right, I was teaching it wrong. Let’s do it your way!'”
Her eyes went wide and she shook her head.
“So what are you trying to get to? What do you expect?”
She wants to be challenged. Ah, ok. There’s something we can work with.
I told my girl that life is going to be pretty tough if every day is spent digging in her heels.
And so all of that best answers the question posed by the idea generator today:
“If you could pass on a piece of advice that meant a lot to you when you received it, what would it be?”
Pick your battles.
I might be qualified to impart that wisdom from my position in the long and deep trenches I carry behind me, heels worn down to the nub.
