Rosemary, Mint & Year's End

As we prepare for a likely fall over the fiscal cliff, the doomsday warnings remind me of December 31, 1999 and the y2k theory. I remember filling our car up with gas in Maryland, where we lived at the time, before traveling around the Beltway to my sister's house in Virginia that New Year's Eve.

Predicted disaster did not ensue that time around.

This time it is not a technology issue but a political one. Competing theories of government's role in a capitalist economy have come forehead to forehead, with neither side inclined to blink. Watching CNN tonight, I can see that the rhetoric chosen by Democrats and Republicans is still aimed at nothing more than public relations, as whatever backroom deal they may be negotiating succeeds or fails to pass the House, in the only vote that matters.

The Senate has had the votes to pass a reasonable compromise all along. Inside the Beltway, it is known as the house of Congress where the "adults" work, as opposed to the other chamber.

Be that as it may, the House is theoretically more representative of the nation, since every state, large or small, has two Senators, regardless of population. The House, by contrast, has 435 members allocated by the population distribution -- thus California has the largest delegation in that chamber, followed by other populous states.

From my time in Washington, covering the political system up close, what I remember most vividly is how image-oriented all the politicians I met were. There was the occasional policy wonk, who cared more about what would actually change things for the better, but most seemed far more concerned about looking good, raising money for their next election cycle, and cutting down their opposition.

During the brief time my roommate was a U.S. Senator, I learned just how much of his time had to be devoted to raising money and/or talking to donors. Basically, it was every available hour outside of actually meeting with his caucus or with the Senate as a whole.

Nothing I saw in D.C. increased my confidence in our federal government. Don't even get me started about our state government in Sacramento, which I've also witnessed up close.

I actually have more faith in local government, which despite many problems, remains most closely in touch with citizens and their concerns.

Not that it necessarily does a good job of addressing those concerns much of the time. But we have a fairly responsive government here in the city of San Francisco. Come to think of it, I must find someone at City Hall to discuss the mess DPT has made along my route from here to Bernal.

They've messed up the intersection of Bryant and 24th. I know this is TMI for most of you but as I drive this route a thousand times every year, it really matters to me. More than the fiscal cliff, if you want to know.

I don't earn enough money to pay taxes and I don't rely on any publicly funded services, other than Medicare, so if they go over the cliff, I doubt it will matter much to me personally. On the other hand, like most Americans, I'm thinking of my country as a whole, and wondering whether it really cam be a world leader much longer with such a dysfunctional political standoff, led not by leaders but elected officials reluctant to lead.

Happy New Year?

Merry Christmas

Magical Thinking

I think that those of us raised by European Christians often have a tendency to hope for some magic to happen in our lives. I'm not sure whether it is embedded in the religion, because I have not participated in any religion fully at any point in my life. It probably has more to do with the myth of Santa Claus, which in our childhoods, exceeded all other forms of magical thinking.

In truth, I liked Santa a hell of a lot more than my notion of God, so as soon as I was old enough, I stopped going to church altogether, although I've never felt any hostility toward those who attend services of any kind in churches, mosques, or synagogues.

I do, however, suspect they do so not so much out of faith but out of the need to be part of a community plus out of respect for family traditions. And those are both good things.

This time of year, with Hanukkah & Christmas, people deeply or even loosely still involved with their faiths are attending services, while people like me cast around for alternative experiences.

Last night, as my daughter sang seasonal songs in her school choir, I felt a warmth remembering the past with my family in Michigan, gathering around the piano and singing Christmas carols.

Those old songs evoke memories and feelings that often feel remote in my present life, living here alone in a flat in the Mission with a cat that wouldn't know the difference between a Christmas carol and a rap song.

A few hours after she performed in the last such holiday concert at her school (she graduates next summer), I dropped my youngest and her brothers with their Mom at the airport, where they caught planes way across this land, ultimately arriving at a lovely tropical island off the coast of southwest Florida -- the place that probably is my favorite spot in the entire world.

I have a long history on that island, starting some 44 years ago, but also one that ended, for all intents and purposes, over a decade ago.

The only part of me that remains is a legacy -- some books and other items inside an ancient cottage called Morning Glories in the historical village on the island. The rich people who bought it and replaced it with a mansion agreed to pay to move it there as a condition of the sale, when my first wife and I sold it to them in the late 1990s.

***

Today, I checked the mail but there is no word yet whether my daughter has been invited to audiition at School of the Arts. She texted me from Florida whether there was news; I answered there is none yet.

An ex-cousin-in-law called from Florida about a new recording he has created with multiple types of music. He is going to mail that to me.

It's been raining all day here. Near the end of the daylight, a strange light appeared, just a ray or two of sun, so I went outside hoping to glimpse a rainbow.

If there was one to be seen, it culd not be glimpsed from down here, between buildings and trees, this time around.

So, as the day closes, I'm not sure any magic happened. As a skeptic, professionally, I'm not sure magic ever actually happens.

As I told my ex-cousin-in-law, I'm more persuaded we become good at tings not through genius but through hard work. I'm an advocate of Macolm Gladwell's thesis in Outliers.

That said, I do wish for some magic sometimes. Especially around this time of year.

-30-

The Silence That Looms

It sounds as if Obama is going to step up in the wake of last Friday's slaughter and use his position as leader of the nation to promote new preventative measures, though I admit to skepticism about what he, or anyone, can do about reducing gun violence here in America.

If there were one group with the power to effect positive change it would be the NRA, the powerful pro-gun lobby.

As I've noted in the past, I'm pro-gun myself, in the sense I hunted as a boy and still own an ancient 16-gauge shotgun, though I don't possess any shells for it.

My three sons have always loved guns, especially BB guns.

I get it.

But weapons that are meant for no other purpose than mass killings of other human beings are beyond my comprehension. I do not understand why anyone, except a delusional paranoid preparing for the apocalypse, could possibly wish to own those types of guns.

That said, I agree with the pro-gun people who say more government regulation of guns isn't going to prevent tragedies like what happened in Connecticut, sadly.

At least it would be a start, however.

Beyond that we have the paucity of resources available for mental health diagnosis and treatment, a critical failure in this society.

Do you know that in order for someone to remain the care of a professional for mental health problems, and for that professional to get reimbursed by most insurance companies, that person has to be declared to be in a critical state?

Anyone who has ever dealt first hand with mental health recovery knows it is a gradual process, that when the patient proceeds from critical to relatively stable, he remains at risk of relapse if not properly attended.

Yet our private insurance companies force providers to jump through so many hoops at this stage of recovery that many are lost from the system, revert to their former ways, and once again are on the streets posing potential risks to themselves and the rest of us.

We do not have a civilized mental health system in this country.

Perhaps the most challenging aspect of this problem overall is the great social disease of dislocation, alienation, and loneliness. Although no one much wants to admit it, we live in world where many of us are speeding away from each other like stars in the universe, ever more distant, silent, and disconnected.

This is our greatest problem of all.

And unless we can find a solution to that, not only will the slaughter of innocents continue, the tragic alienation of many of the rest of us will be an inevitability as well.

Searching for Leadership

What happened today in Connecticut is unspeakably horrible and tragic. Inevitably, it also will become a political question, a matter that demands public debate and new policy initiatives.

These kinds of preventable slaughters have become too frequent -- even one of them would have been too many, and the U.S. is a country now desperately waiting for some leader to emerge with the courage and will to take this problem on.

New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg was a lone voice on the issue of gun control recently; where is another person of courage?

When a sports commentator added his voice to the conversation, he was widely ridiculed, which says more about the state of denial many sports fans live in than it does about him.

If you are a parent or grandparent or aunt or uncle or even a friend of children, or even if you are none of the above but have a heart, you know how horrifying today was for all of us, and you felt the horror yourself.

I'm not sure that gun control is the entire answer here, but I do know that restricting access to weapons that have no other purpose but to slaughter other humans is the right thing to do.

We also need much better mental health intervention services. We need better community awareness of the signals that someone is in trouble in the types of ways that could lead them to do what was so tragically done today.

Rarely is an individual so isolated that literally no one is aware of his struggles, emotionally and mentally.

Remember that even the Unibomber was eventually identified by his brother, thanks to media circulation of his mad writings.

As I said, gun control is only one piece of what needs to be done, but for that we need a political leader willing to take on the NRA.

For that, it is time to look to our President. I'm sure his emotion today was sincere, that he was acting more as father than as Commander in Chief, as he wiped away tears.

But as President at this moment he is also Father in Chief. Step up, Mr. President, and take on the gun lobby. Now is the right moment. We need you.

p.s. If you agree with these sentiments, please forward them or your own to the White House.

-30-

The Last Time Like This For a Century

Today, as we rounded the hill atop Bernal Heights at 8 a.m., the kids in the carpool and I noticed it had started raining, even though we were bathed in sunlight. "There must be a rainbow," I said out loud, though the kids were, as usual, plugged into their headsets, listening to music, even as I listened to NPR on the car radio, so nobody heard me.

"Wow!" was the collective response, theirs and mine, and we cleared the ridge and a gorgeous full rainbow framed our entire view westward.

It turns out they were paying attention, if not to me, to the environment around us.

Later, I mumbled something about today being 12/12/12. Once again, I doubt anyone was listening, but the point I tried to make was that this is the last time such a numerical date will occur in this century, since there is no 13th month, at least on the Western calendar.

In 89 years, we will again start a twelve year period when we experience another 1/1/1 to 12/12/12 sequence, but that's a long time away.

Alas, nobody was listening.

=30-

Our Immigrant Stories

My 16-year-old has to make a movie consisting of individual photos on the theme of immigration. I couldn't resist relocating some old photos posted to this blog a long time ago and forwarding them to him.

This is the ship my Scottish grandfather, Alexander Anderson, traveled to America on back in 1923.

Here is the manifest from that ship, with his name on it.

It a terrific class assignment for a high school student to research and express himself on the immigration issue. Dylan has plenty of perspective -- he knows about the Irish, the Chinese, the Jewish and the Latino immigrations.

He'll create a soundtrack for his movie. I suggested this song, which he didn't know:


Arlo, the son of the songwriter Woodie Guthrie sings it with Emmy Lou Harris.

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Art is Dangerous

(Hiding her face.)

If one thing alone is certain, it will never be easy to be a writer or any other kind of artist.

Since we live in the age of data, let me describe what in the tech community is known as the 1-9-90 rule.

It states that one percent of the population will post to the Internet, nine percent will comment on that post, and 90 percent will just read it.

Not much different from the old days, eh? Still a broadcast model of communication.

As a writer who has struggled financially at some points in my life, I've always kind of hoped my kids would choose more practical careers, like engineering, medicine, or business administration.

Inevitably, however, most of them have migrated over to the creative pursuits in one form or another. With none of them is this more clearly the case than with my youngest. At 14, she has been pursuing her passion as a visual artist for years now, and today marked a milestone in her journey.

Tomorrow is the deadline for applications at San Francisco's School of the Arts (SoTA). That meant, in her case, she had to submit some forms and recommendations from her art teachers, but also a portfolio of ten original drawings, including still lifes, self portraits, and landscapes.

Despite being told that the odds are stacked against her being admitted (because so many kids want to go to SoTA), Julia has been working hard for weeks to finish her pictures by this deadline.

Last night, she might have been able to finish her landscape, but the fog rolled in over this city and she could no longer see Twin Peaks.

This morning, the sun replaced that fog, and she stayed home to finish the piece.

By mid-afternoon, when I picked her up from school, her portfolio, tucked into a large blue case, was ready to be judged.

But who will judge her work and what do they know about my daughter and her talent?

At the age of 14, what can we really say about anybody?

I can tell you this. She is determined and committed and she works as hard as anyone I have ever known to get things right. She is a perfectionist.

She sees the world through her own eyes, and has little use for perspectives at odds with her own. Although kind and generous by nature, she does not suffer fools gladly.

The way she views things has always struck me as visual as opposed to verbal. She is also a very good writer, BTW, but we writers often fall in love with our own words, and the verbal narratives they imply.

Julia, I believe, falls more in love with a visual kind of story telling.

I don't know what will happen when the school officials evaluate my daughter's application. I don't know that she will be granted the next step in the process -- an audition, where she will have to quickly execute similar drawings to those she's submitted.

But I do know this much. She is an artist in her father's eyes.

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Busy, Not Busy; Not Alone, Alone

As my vegetarian, 14-year-old artist finalizes her portfolio in preparation for applying to the School of the Arts, up on Twin Peaks, all I can say is thank god for hummus and edemame.

These are among the constants in my refrigerator, especially at a time she is growing so fast that everyone who sees her after a week or two gap, repeats the same mantra: "Julia, have you grown taller again?"

Today, in the driving rain, I started off driving her 16-year-old brother's carpool to Lowell HS out near the Ocean. He loves the rain and the fog, so he is always happy when we have this type of weather.

Soon after, it was back out into the rain to pick Julia up from shadowing at Mission HS across the street from Dolores Park. The day is close when she has to choose among the six schools on her list and to rank them.

The city's lottery demands that approach.

As I settled in to try and work, a new call came -- my 18-year-old had a dental emergency, so soon it was out in the (now) mist once again, to rush him to the dentist, all the way over near North Beach in the far end of Polk Gulch, at the western edge of Russian Hill.

After that it was back and forth from here to the gym and to Bernal as night time settled over the City by the Bay. All told, I'd driven nearly 49 miles, an appropriate number for this City that measures 7 miles by 7.

***

I have not been blogging here much lately, and for that I apologize to the handful of loyal readers who keep an eye on this space. I'm going to try and amend for that. Plus, there are reasons good and bad for my silence.

The good is that I have been busy with work projects that are helping me limp to the finish line of the worst financial year, for me, of the past quarter century. I may be limping but at least I am still standing.

The bad is I have felt ill from some time now, both physically and mentally. I don't usually write about depression, but it is no secret that among writers this is a common problem.

I'm fine with it, normally. Like other emotional states it can be episodic. It's only when it settles in like an unwanted house guest that I become concerned.

I have worked hard enough on depression to know the proper therapy, which is to connect with others. Luckily, it is not a challenge to find people I know and also to meet new people.

I meet new people every week, literally. Most of them are young, smart, pleasant, interesting. We have wonderful conversations. A substantial number of them are also lovely young women -- an added bonus for a man who has always loved women.

But these relationships, for the most part, are fleeting -- bits of conversations traded as if on the wind, a fragment may blow first this way and then that. I am reminded at those times of cherry blossom leaves in Japan as the trees disengage themselves from their fragments of beauty, exchanging them for greenery and the richness of fruit, only later still to soon stand empty and bare as the winter arrives.

It is winter, in the city and in my life.

As a Michigan boy, I wish it would start snowing outside, sort of. But if it did, and I had no one to share it with, I probably would be more drawn to Robert Frost's "Stopping by the woods on a snowy evening."

-30-

Happy Endings

Driving up to Sacramento on Thanksgiving, we could see the snow-capped Sierra far to the east. The air was that clear and crisp our whole visit.

I've grown to love the neighborhood where my daughter and her family live. There are so many trees that remind me of my youth in Michigan.

A place with actual seasons.

The trees in the park near her house are gorgeous this time of year -- leaves red, yellow, orange and green.

My youngest and I made five pies -- two pecan, two pumpkin and one apple. Others in the family made the turkey, dressing, gravy, three green salads, sauteed brussel sprouts, Waldorf Salad, broccoli, other veggies, other side dishes and other desserts.

It was a magnificent feast -- as it is for many people, Thanksgiving is my favorite meal of the year. As a boy, I loved dark meat; later on I grew to like white meat; as I've grown older, I now once again strongly prefer dark meat.

The kids baked this turkey to perfection, as far as the dark meat was concerned. So juicy, perfect.

The rest of the five day weekend involved a lot of driving, homework, more college application stuff, football games on TV, and writing.

It's impossible at my age to not turn to memories during the holiday periods. I can easily summon the moment as a young child, with my nose pressed to the window of our house in Royal Oak, that I first grasped the enormity of the fact that every snowflake hitting the outside of that same window had a unique shape.

This was math at its best -- capturing the concept of infinity.

An infinite number of anything implies unrestrained uniqueness. The concept of unique appeals to the inner mathematical core of a writer.

Writers fancy ourselves as unique voices. We are arrogant in this way -- that we believe our ability to string together words in a visual narrative is as distinct as our fingerprint.

It's our verbal fingerprint.

Storytellers need to believe that stories matter and that the way we choose to tell ours matters as a result.

We may not ever discover why we write; or whether it is a gift, a psychological disorder, an urge to connect, a desire to be heard, or a malady not yet diagnosed by medicine.

But we write. We write and write. I've written millions of words. They've been read by hundreds of thousands of people.

The other day, in the park, shooting the photo at the top of this post, I felt I could look through those beautiful orange leaves to heaven.

I don't know what I mean by heaven.

My 18-year-old son was here the other day when some Christians showed up at the front door wanting to talk to us about Christ. He politely explained to them that he is an atheist and they politely moved on to ring the next doorbell in their missionary outreach.

Maybe by heaven I mean what I felt I was glimpsing was the end of my own particular story. If so, it was a lovely shade of orange, like sundown in the tropics.

-30-

Thanksgiving Photo Journal

Sound of a Train Whistle

Late at night, in Sacramento, after a lovely Thanksgiving with all six kids and all five grandchildren, now everyone's asleep but me.

I never seem to be able to sleep easily any more when I'm not at home. :(

As the teens were settling down, an Amtrak train was making its way eastward when it passed through this capital city, rumbling down the tracks toward the Sierra and up to the Donner Pass, before winding its way back down to Reno and on across Nevada.

To me, there's nothing quite like the sound of a train to ignite my imagination or fire my memory.

One of the kids mumbled, "What is that?" They never hear real trains in San Francisco, as all we have there are commuter lines. Those whistles are different, much more like car horns.

Johnny Cash understood train sounds, as does Willie Nelson.

I used to have this fantasy. In it, I would take off from San Francisco by train and travel the country, writing my way across the land.

In that fantasy, I would step off into little towns, spend some time there, get to know the locals, before moving on.

I'm sure this is a common fantasy, especially among writers, who fancy our ability to capture the pulse of the land, and yearn to do so.

But maybe the pulse of America no longer resides in the small towns or farms. Maybe, in fact, America has lost its own pulse and no longer knows how to locate its heart.

I think these seditious thoughts, from time to time, especially when I hear a train whistling by, Who even rides those trains any longer?

I've actually been on the trains all over this country, east, west, north, south. In the end I discovered no great wisdom there, just the sound of the tracks and the view out the window of the land, vast and mostly unsettled, passing by, as I sat trapped in a metal box.

I don't recall ever writing anything great on a train, either.

Maybe romantic fantasies are just that -- fantastic exaggerations built on the fragile shoulders of emotional moments?

-30-

CONGRATULATIONS AIDAN WEIR!

There's my 18-year-old son with his favorite coach.

Tonight, we learned that he has been named as one of the top 11 soccer players in the in the city of San Francisco. This is an incredible honor, though one he dismisses with his typical combination of modesty and naivete ("I figured I would win it, Dad. Can we not brag about it?")

My next task is to figure out whether and how to use this news to help him get into college. Unfortunately, we had just sent off his applications to all the California schools a few hours before this news came in.

He also got his first acceptance -- from the University of Montana. It's an exciting time for this high school senior.

-30-

Laughter

This is a topic I don't often write about, but what I love about getting my kids and grandkids together is how much laughter fills my house. Most of the time it's a quiet place, just me and the cat, who never smiles, let alone laughs.

Today's menu of castle-building, snacking, joking and jumping let to lots of laughs. It was great.

Tonight, a rainy night, it's good to be home.

I've often noted how easily and frequently young people smile and laugh. Old people, by contrast, often scowl or look worried. Our bodies hurt -- that's part of the problem. When I watch young people I don't know, I envy their apparent light-heartedness.

When I'm with the ones I know, I am much more likely to smile and laugh than when alone or with other elders.

I think I have a good sense of humor; when with others, I like to joke. But I'm rarely amused when alone. Then, it seems, only worries come to visit.

Tonight I am not alone. And I am smiling.

-30-

Sore Loser

Mitt Romney is in the news tonight blaming his loss to Obama on "gifts" Obama gave minorities. What a sad end to what seemed otherwise to be a fairly honorable campaign. I've often posted, in the context of sports, how kids learn how to lose gracefully and to win gracefully. Kids never get a microphone to complain about their losses.

But billionaires do.

America is lucky to have avoided a victory by this sore loser.

-30-

Meaningless Scandals

The massive media blitz about the David Petraeus sex scandal reminds us all of what happened in Bill Clinton's second term. On one hand, bad things were done. On the other, is investigating every little detail of these unfortunate events really the most important thing for us to be concentrating on?

It is now my belief that our economy and jobs are what really matters -- the fiscal cliff. Instead, we appear to be poised to be moving toward a sideshow. What a tragedy.

-30-

One Day in Time

Every now and again it strikes me that since each of us is made up of such specific stuff, which is special and unique in so many ways, why can't we just all just accept the beauty of our fellow human beings and get on with the process of living and dying, and get rid of all of the strife, the violence, and the killing of each other's dreams?

I know this sounds hopelessly naive.

But I'm having one of those days. One of those days I've always had since I was young. A bit of free time opens up, time slows down, my mind begins to wander, and I revisit thoughts that have recurred over and over throughout my lifetime.

At moments like this one, everything stands out crisp and shiny, as if sunlight beams played the role of yellow highlighters in a book you were studying for class.

Human by human. We proceed through this life knowing people. They come and go. Some are kind to us and others rip us off. Some we become intimate with; most not. But when you sit back and think about them, peoples' voices and expressions and gestures return to you, even of at times you cannot recall their names.

I should personalize all of this. Today I took my car into the mechanic's shop for a tuneup. I walked back through the Mission to my house, and then later retraced the route to pick it up.

Along the way I passed many people, men and women, young and old, mainly Latino, but also some white, black or Asian. I spoke to no one and no one spoke to me. None of us know anything whatsoever about one another.

From appearances, who are any of us to draw conclusions or issue judgements?

I know in the eyes of anyone who may have noticed me today that I am an elderly white man, who now walks slightly bent, not quite as erect as even a few years back, a little uncertain at corners, worried about traffic, and ever so slightly disoriented as to where I am.

This is largely the product of living alone for too long, without a partner, or anyone to help me navigate through life. Although I think I am still strong, self-sufficient, and competent, I also know the pressures of life are getting to me, and self-doubt has crept into my world to an extent I never knew until now.

I have become cautious in the city.

Naturally, I wonder which struggles lie behind all of those other faces as we pass one another like ships in the dark sea. Are they like me? What are the stories that none of them ever will tell?

-30-

When Your Kids Grow Up, You have To Too

Walked with my high school senior to a nearby cafe this morning, bought him a latte, and left him with my laptop to write an essay about Obamacare.

You never can tell what types of subjects will interest your child, no matter how well you think you know him.

My son has become intrigued by policy issues, government and economics this fall, partly due to an excellent course by an excellent teacher.

Thus, there he was, on a sunny day off from school, due to it being a federal holiday, quite contented to be doing research and writing a fairly long essay.

I returned home and when he showed up a couple hours later, he asked if I would like to read what he had written.

You bet!

I'm well-informed enough about the Affordable Health Care Act to have a few opinions. What surprised me about his essay, researched and written so quickly, was how he seemed to have captured all of the essentials of this exceedingly complex and controversial piece of legislation so succinctly and accurately.

He also gave a nod to the main Republican criticisms of the Act, noting their logic and essential simplicity, as opposed to the complexity of the system now in place.

Frankly, as a journalist, what he did and how quickly he did it, at his young age, stunned me. I didn't see this side of him coming -- a young man able to intellectually digest and analyze complex information about a public policy question so impressively.

Maybe he is ready for college!

Parents often underestimate their kids during transition moments. Lately, I've wondered how ready he is for the next stage of life he is about to enter.

Today, I realized my doubts are probably more about my ability to let him go, than his to move on.

As a long-time college professor myself, the paper he wrote today in my class wouldn't only be an A in high school, but an A in college as well.

-30-

Competition

Watching my daughter play defense tonight, as our weather suddenly turned into the local version of freezing (wind chill in the low 50s, probably), I continued to appreciate what a competitor she is.

Several times she made clean tackles, using her size and strength to send opponents to the ground. In one case, the girl on the ground tried to kick her repeatedly -- an illegal move.

The referee didn't see it, but her teammates did.

One of her friends said afterward, "That made me so angry."

"Did she actually kick your legs?" I asked Julia.

"I have no idea," she answered. "I didn't feel a thing."

This girl has bruises up and down her legs, from soccer.

But as all competitive athletes know, after a physical game like today's, none of that matters.

-30-

Why Obama Won

What I am about to write will not be startling to anyone who monitors the responsible national media, but it may come to a shock to those caught up in the echo chamber of the radical right.

Despite a lousy economy, which normally dooms an incumbent President, Obama won largely because Americans as a whole like him and trust him.

Part of the reason they like and trust him is he is bi-racial. Never forget he is the first non-white President.

Romney, meanwhile, looks, sounds and acts like every other President before Obama. We are, as a people, just tired of that same-old. (That's why I didn't run. :) I don't look right.)

This is not trivial. This is a diverse nation, teeming with people of all races, nationalities, sexual orientations, religions, lifestyles, and hopes for the future.

The Republican Party and its ticket were completely oriented to the past. They looked like the past. They talked from the past.

It's not that minorities and women and gay people or those of us who sympathize with those demographic segments want to vote for people who look or act like them -- far from it.

We just don't want to vote for people who don't get what this is all about.

White men, in fact, have a major positive role in this new coalition, but not if they are the type who tacitly support those idiots who tolerate or rationalize rape, racism, or are so poorly educated they don't know a socialist from a centrist.

Obama won because he is the most appropriate leader for the U.S., circa 2012.

This is an electorate trending toward same sex marriage, legalizing pot (personally, I'm ambivalent on that one), and embracing diversity.

We do not have romantic notions of how hard it will be to build a new America, one that reflects and celebrates our many origins and orientations. We know there is a tribal instinct where people of one stripe tend to hang together.

But we also know our future depends on getting along with one another and recognizing our common humanity.

Finally, we know that climate change is real, and we were grateful the President mentioned it last night, now he has been re-elected.

This, not "socialism," is the great common threat we face. Obama may now be able to do something about that. I hope so. That is the one of the main reasons he got my vote, which I cast on behalf of my 11 children and grandchildren.

Let's get moving on climate change, Mr. President!

-30-

New Voters

Young people helped re-elect President Obama tonight, which was the right choice for America.

Despite all of the slurs, the racism, and the ridiculous rhetoric about "socialism," this centrist, moderate political leader is the best leader for this country in these times.

My 18-year-old voted for him, and I trust in my son's judgement. After all, the future is much more important to him than it is to me, as he will be here for it and I will not be.

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The Last Speech

Barack Obama gave one of the greatest closing speeches I've ever witnessed in Iowa tonight. It was inspirational. It will echo across America, I believe.

What is touching is that, win or lose, this was his last political speech. Way too soon, win or lose, his career as a politician is now over.

That's what politics in America has come to. A few years on the national stage. Then over and out.

That is how we treat our brightest hopes. All I can say to my relatives and supposed friends who oppose Obama, is 'Shame on you!'

Obama will win. Those of you who opposed him need to re-examine your true values. What is it, exactly, that you believe in?

Please let me know, because I am very, very disappointed in you, so much so I don't think you can honestly call me your relative from now on without a true, honest explanation.

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Pre-Election Trending

I'm excited that my 18-year-old can vote tomorrow.

Here is my latest analysis of polling data and trends.

In the Senate, I'd assumed the Democrats would lose a seat or two or even three, but now I predict they will maintain their current 53-47 seat advantage.

(One of the better sites to evaluate the Senate races is this one.)

I've not done any detailed analysis of the House races because simple math dictates that only with a massive sweep at the top of the ticket, which is not going to happen, could the Democrats take back the House from the GOP.

So I doubt my local Congressperson, Nancy Pelosi, is going to once again become Speaker of the House.

Perhaps in 2014, however, given how the right is trending.

On to the Presidency.

Here is a site that reveals just how close the race may be.

Probably the best journalistic assessment on how tomorrow's electoral map will turn out is here, and that indicates Obama within 27 electoral votes of a victory.

To accomplish that, he has 89 in play. The largest prize is Florida. If Obama wins there, this election is over.

But he can lose that and still prevail, which is why his campaign has largely ceded Florida to Romney.

The odd thing is, when I look at this closely, is the demographics of Florida are such that Obama could easily win the state tomorrow, mainly on the strength of Latino votes.

His campaign may sense that also.

This brings up a scenario no one is talking about anywhere on the political web or social media that I have been able to locate.

What if Obama wins in a landslide tomorrow?

If Latinos carry Florida for the Democrats, Obama will also win most of the other states in play, and beat Romney by as much as 332 to 206.

The popular vote would still be close but a good guess of that would be 52-48 Obama, which is my best guess as of now.

I have to get out my calculator, monitor more polls, and study more history before I can finalize these predictions.

But tonight I sense we are on the verge of some sort of big surprise, and that it is not the one Romney supporters may be wishing for...

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Elections=Math

One good thing about being among the long-term unemployed is I can study the election polls and do the math. Here, from a completely non-partisan perspective, is what I see as of this hour. This is not what I hope will happen but what, as of now, I believe will occur. This is completely subject to change. I will try to update these numbers tomorrow, on the eve of the election. As of now, here is what I see:

I've spent the past couple hours pouring over all the polling data I can find state by state in the 8 states that appear to still be in play. It is actually maddeningly close and therefore uncertain in most of these places, although I would say it is trending Obama in most of them (details below).

Before those 8, it looks like Obama is ahead in electoral votes, 237-206. The only way that number could change is if the five states that appear to be settled should pivot dramatically in the last 48 hours. Those five are Michigan, Pennsylvania, and New Mexico (41), which would have to move away from Obama, or if North Caroline and Arizona (26) move away from Romney.

Looking at polling trends I am going to assume neither of those scenarios will occur.

So that leaves 8 races in play:

Florida (29) is leaning Romney but could go either way. Let's give it to Romney.
Ohio (18) is leaning Obama. I think he will win this state.
Virginia (13) is leaning Obama. I think he will win this state.
Wisconsin (10) is leaning Obama. Let's give it to Obama.
Colorado (9) is dead even. Let's give it to Romney.
Iowa (6) is leaning Obama. Let's give it to Romney.
Nevada (6) is leaning Obama. Let's give it Romney.
New Hampshire (4) is leaning Obama. Let's give it to Romney.

Final totals?

Obama 278 Romney 260.

I believe this is the best case scenario for Romney. A more likely outcome is 294-244, Obama.

I will redo this math tomorrow...

Love Conquers Hate

The kids didn't win any of their games but their parents were out there cheering the whole time.

In the process I may have lost my writing voice. We'll see.

Although by the numbers I've been predicting Obama will win on Tuesday, the truth is no one can say for sure how this election will turn out. It is very, very close.

Polls indicate the overwhelming number of people believe Obama has done a great job of handling the disaster relief for Hurricane Sandy, so that may provide him a slight edge.

But the difficulty of getting to the polls in hard-hit New Jersey and New York, Democratic strongholds, could well depress the popular vote on that side. It will have no impact on the electoral outcome.

***

This my 18-year-old's first election. It's difficult to talk with your kids about politics these days. They see all the ugliness, the hyperbole. They are smart, and have studied history.

They know about our legacy of racism in America. They know what socialism is. To see grown men and women call a moderate, centrist Democrat a "socialist" strikes them as ludicrous, and it forces them to lose all respect for the entire Republican Party as a result.

My father's party is thus losing our brightest and most perceptive youth, They also are suspicious that all of this baseless rhetoric has at its core a racist tinge. There is no policy or political reason for any white voter to "hate" Obama, nor is there anything about his mixed racial heritage to justify those venomous emotions.

In other words, if you hate Obama, you do so not rationally, but out of an ugly place within yourself that you ought to be able to address through your religion, or through therapy, or through plain emotional honesty.

There simply is no rational basis for that kind of hate.

Do Democrats hate Romney?

Not really. Why should they? You don't hear that kind of ugly venom from the center or the left, only from the right.

That's why the right wing remains a small but dangerous pocket of extremism in this country. Don't forget where the worst domestic terror attack originated -- at Oklahoma City by a right wing extremist from Michigan.

Hate is the worst thing in public life. At its core is unresolved racism.

There's plenty at stake in this election, although a much higher stake globally sits in the government change imminent in China.

***

Way to the east of here and back today I drove one of my son's teammates. He is also a center back; they played side by side and were brilliant as first time teammates.

The boy's name is Juan and he is built like a fire hydrant. He told me in broken but pretty good English that he grew up in Honduras and moved here six years ago. He only started learning English then.

He said he chose his high school over others because he wanted to learn how to be around other people than just Latinos.

He said he likes it here in San Francisco, and he likes getting to know white, black and Asian kids.

Despite his formidable physical bearing, which translates into an intimidating force on the pitch, he is a sweet kid, and he reminded me why America is a great country.

Not because of the Timothy McVeighs but because of the Juans.

Love will conquer hate eventually; I believe that. And hopefully Obama will be re-elected on Tuesday because all of our people, even the haters, need that.

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Election Turning Point

Three prominent Republican leaders endorsed or essentially endorsed Obama over Romney this week:

Colin Powell.

Michael Bloomberg.

Chris Christie.

Over my many decades of following and reporting on Presidential elections, I do not recall anything of this magnitude ever happening before.

All three clearly see that Obama represents our future and Romney is nothing more than a (dangerous) relic of our past.

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Obama Will Be Re-Elected

After reviewing all the polls, as I always do each election cycle, this is the best estimate of the outcome next week.

Of course, things could still change. But, from a statistical perspective, I doubt it.

The real question facing this country now is not who will win the election, because that will be the incumbent President, but what he will do with that second term.

It's soon time to put aside all of the partisan politics, the heated rhetoric, and begin to rebuild America.

Let's hope President Obama is up to that challenge.

Once he wins this election, which will happen mid-evening next Tuesday, that work will be his burden to bear.

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The Meaning of Champions

Wow, for some reason, according to Google Analytics, my last post got 240 visitors. This is weird, because as a blogger I am so far off the grid that you have to know about me to find me. I long ago had to shut off any access by Google or any other search engine, after a supposed friend clicked too many times on my site and got me disqualified for Google Ad income, thus permanently consigning me to the free blogger category.

Thanks a lot, supposed friend, although I know you did it with the best of intentions.

Of course, Google and its algorithms cares not for the best of intentions.

Today, the very special city of San Francisco celebrated its second World Series Championship in three years. If you have not seen the parade and the speeches, maybe you should, especially if you do not live around here.

Because everyone who spoke, and everyone who contributed to this championship, gets it. They all know that the only way any of us can accomplish anything meaningful in this world is if we work together.

Teamwork.

Soon, we have an election. That is far more important than baseball, obviously.

I am saddened and appalled to have relatives and friends who support Mitt Romney for President at this point. If you are reading these words, I am very disappointed that you would betray your own best interests, not to mention those of your children and grandchildren, to vote for a man who does not even admit that global climate change will affect the future of the human race, because he is so politically manipulative that he will say or do anything to gain power.

Romney at this moment is the most dangerous man in America. He is the champion of ignorance. I may not much like or support Obama but he is a hell of a better choice for President than a billionaire member of a religious cult who could care less about any of us who are struggling just to survive.

There you go. If 240 people read this one, and take in my message, whether you agree with me or not, that's a good thing for the future of this country! On Tuesday please vote your heart and mind.

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World Champion City

Fireworks, cheers, horns honking. Helicopters overhead, crowds gather on the corners with banners and flags.

For the second time in three years, the Giants are the World Series Champions!

It couldn't happen to a better city.

Nevertheless, I feel bad for my childhood heroes, the Tigers, who were swept in four straight games by the Giants.

My teen boys were watching with me tonight, my oldest son and daughters were all in touch by phone and text. From five different locations, the seven of us celebrated the moment together...

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I hope it is fine

As this particular night turns into tomorrow's morning, my youngest child will officially turn fourteen years of age, a bit before the sun comes back up. That is a difficult fact for me to accept, since in my eyes she is still a little girl.

I also remember being 14 myself, as clearly as if it were yesterday. But my world then was so different from hers today that it would be difficult to find any parallels between my life and hers, so I feel as if I have no wisdom to share with her about this threshold.

We had a family party tonight at her favorite Chinese restaurant. Tomorrow, after her soccer game, she will have a sleepover party at her Mom's house with friends.

Happy birthday, baby!

-30-

Playoff Time

(Click on image to enlarge -- Aidan approaching the net with ball yesterday.)

This city is absolutely electric, as the San Francisco Giants host the opening game of the World Series against the Detroit Tigers tonight. Thus my favorite team as an adult faces my favorite team from my childhood.

As if that were not enough excitement, tomorrow my son's high school soccer team enters the city playoffs for the third time in four years. I never thought this could happen, because their season got off to a horrible start.

They lost their first three games, and under a new format, that meant they were in last place with a quarter of their season over!

Plus their head coach resigned and didn't even tell the kids goodbye.

The math sucked. In previous years, there were 16 regular season games. This year, there were just 12.

To make matters worse, they did not appear to have enough talent to compete against the best teams in the city. In those three games they were outscored 3-12.

Then something happened.

I was in New York when it happened. Aidan was in a horrific head-to-head collision with a player from the other team in the one game I had to miss this season.

Both boys lay on the field, bleeding from gashes in their foreheads. Fortunately, the injuries turned out to not be serious, simply requiring stitches, but somehow on that night, Balboa's season started turning around.

They won that game and then tied the next one, a game they should have won, while Aidan had to sit on the sideline to let his stitches heal and not take any headers that might reopen the wound or cause related concerns about head injuries.

So at this point they were 1-3-1 with 7 games left, still way down in the standings and with little hope of making the playoffs.

After that game they became virtually unbeatable and who can say why? They were 6-1. Over the last nine games cumulatively, they outscored their opponents, 35-10. That amounts to an average game score of 4-1, which in soccer is a blowout.

By late last week, we knew they would make the playoffs, but yesterday they sealed the deal.

Late in the game, the head coach asked Aidan if he felt good enough to go back in for the final minutes. (He'd come out to nurse and ice a knee injury he suffered when an opponent kicked him in the right knee, his kicking leg.)

He said he did and so in he went.

Suddenly, the game plan became clear. Either the coach had indicated to the players on his team, or they knew on their own, but they were all determined to try and set up their senior, and co-captain, to score a goal.

Aidan's had some chances but hadn't scored all season. He plays defense so such chances come rarely.

Now he was playing center forward, which (like it sounds) is the leading offensive position on a soccer team.

Every time Balboa got possession of the ball, the players on the bench started chanting "Aidan! Aidan!"

The crowd of students in the stands picked up on the chant and started calling his name as well.

The crowds at high school soccer games are small, but with 20 or 30 people chanting his name, I'm sure he could hear it out on the pitch.

As a pass reached him in front of the net he scored, and we cheered, but then the referee whistled that a teammate had been offside and indicated the goal didn't count.

We all groaned.

At this point I put away my camera. My hands were shaking too much anyway to get any kind of decent photo, I was so excited to see him playing offense, after 12 years on defense.

A few moments later, he took a pass, executed some pretty nifty moves, eluded the defenders, reached the net, and punched in his goal.

I don't think I have ever heard a bigger cheer at a Balboa game, though maybe it was just the thumping of my heart in my chest.

He smiled a big smile as he returned upfield, high-fiving his teammates, who had made this opportunity happen for him. He'd accomplished their goal for him -- to score a goal in his final regular season game.

I'll cherish this memory.

Tomorrow, the playoffs begin, at 3:30 at Crocker Amazon. From here on it is an elimination game every time. You lose, it's over. You win, you go on.

Stay tuned.

Now, on to the World Series.

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Magic Time

Far north of here I watched my daughter play soccer in the bright sun; then she and I drove south, listening to the Giants' game on the radio.

For those who don't like baseball -- or think they don't like baseball, I have to explain it is the sport most like a book, a very long book, one that you never want to end.

And, on the rare occasion (think 2010) that it doesn't really end, because your team wins the World Series, that book becomes eternal -- one you will gladly read over and over, forever.

When we got home, my boys were already here with the game on TV.

It was a good night in San Francisco. For the second straight game, facing elimination and therefore the end of their season (and story) the Giants clobbered the St. Louis Cardinals, 6-1.

Now the improbable is reality -- if they beat the Cards one more time (tomorrow night), the Giants will win the National League pennant and proceed to the World Series for the second time in three years.

***

The reason baseball can only be understood as a book is because it involves a much longer season and many more games than any other sport. The players arrive for spring training in February, and the lucky ones, those that make it to the World Series, play into late October or November.

Tomorrow will be the Giants' 174th game since the season began in April. (Those spring training games do not count.)

If they win it, they will play at least four more and possibly seven. Their opponent will be my second-most-favorite team, the team of my boyhood, the Detroit Tigers.

If you are counting, that is a book with around 181 chapters, each about three hours long. Few chapters require three hours to finish, so maybe 181 movies is a better analogy.

Imagine a narrative so compelling that you would watch it 181 times in one year!

Now that is a major investment of your time and energy. (Trust me, it helps to be either unemployed or retired.)

At times like this, I realize I am lucky to not have a girlfriend, unless of course I should be so lucky as to have one who truly appreciates the nuances of this great, great sport.

It involves so much math, so much psychology, and such civic engagement. It is about a sense of place -- Detroit, or St. Louis, or San Francisco -- all great cities in wonderful regions of this great country.

***

As I was writing this post tonight, I was also watching one of my favorite movies, "Lost in Translation." In that movie, the character Bill Murray says something about getting to know your children.

I do not recall the exact line, but it is something like getting to know the "most amazing people you ever will meet."

Children have so much influence over their parents, although it can take half a lifetime or more for them to realize that truth.

The reason I am a Giants fan is my kids. They all were born and have grown up here, so this is their team.

I didn't become a Giants fan until I was in my 40s; until then it was all Tigers for me.

Then the narrative changed, as I adapted my hopes and dreams and aspirations to theirs. As late as 1984, when the Tigers last won the World Series, my older kids rooted for my boyhood team along with me, but Michigan is a long, long way away from here, and unfamiliar territory for the most part to my children.

They are San Francisco people with San Francisco values. They like the fog, the cool ocean air, and they value the kind of diversity we hold dear here on the Left Coast.

Michigan often seems a long way away to me now. A place that is fading from memory, especially because I have not been able to visit it for almost a decade now, and unless my finances improve, I may never see its green fields and blue rivers again.

It may end up lost in the fog of a lifetime of foggy memories.

If the Giants and the Tigers are to meet in this year's World Series, which we will know by this time tomorrow, my old and present self, and my younger self will meet and have to have a conversation.

Stay tuned.

-30-

Back on Top

Two great soccer games this week, both away games, for Balboa's team and both wins by the identical score of 3-1. Aidan had an assist in the second game and turned in one of his best performances ever.

Now it's virtually certain his team will make the playoffs for the third time in his four years of high school -- something that has not happened at this particular high school for a long, long time -- apparently decades.

They've won twice as many games as they've lost over those four years, a great record.

This year has been the most improbable of all. After losing their first three games, plus their head coach, who suddenly resigned, left the school, and never even said goodbye to his players, the team regrouped and won six, tied another and lost just one more of the next eight games.

Now they are down to the final regular season game next Tuesday, against a weak team. Win that and they will finish 7-4-1.

The co-captains, four seniors, including Aidan, deserve a lot of credit. As is the case with high school sports, they are expected to be leaders. they speak in meetings, huddles, at halftimes, before and after games.

On the field they direct play, helping position the younger players and back them up when they make mistakes.

The playoff slots go to the top six teams this year. Balboa looks to have a lock on fourth, fifth or sixth place, depending how the final round of contests turn out.

Then, they will have to win three more games to win the city championship.

Driving back from yesterday's game, my son and his best friend and co-captain laughed and celebrated the win and fantasized on just how cool it would be if they win the championship their senior year.

That's something Balboa has not accomplished in many decades.

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Second Debate

Well, Obama won this one. After looking like he wanted to be anywhere else but at a debate the first time around, this time Obama showed up and actually debated Romney.

In the process, at several key moments, he prevailed in ways that will no doubt start showing up in the polls over the next few days.

I'd expect Obama to open up a 3-4 point lead in the popular vote poll by a week from today (before tonight they were essentially tied).

Still, these debates are not necessarily pivotal events. Many other factors play into how a Presidential race turns out. To me, the most important number is from the swing state of Ohio, where even before tonight's debate, Obama held a ten point lead.

Romney, like any Republican, is not going to win the election without Ohio. If my assessment proves correct, he will be around 13-14 points down there a week from now.

He has one last chance in the third and final debate, which occurs in another swing state, Florida. I'd say it makes sense to stay tuned, pay attention and see how the campaigns adjust as Obama pulls back out into the lead, and the stakes for that debate grow higher.

If I were an adviser to either candidate, I'd suggest using that debate to talk about some concrete pans and policy initiatives, since they've both been maddeningly vague to date.

I'd say the guy with more specifics will convert more "undecideds" that night. Whether it changes the outcome is itself debatable. After all, it is still the President's to lose and his electoral advantage (forget the popular vote) remains substantial.

-30-

The Competitor

The more I watch her play soccer, the more I understand just how competitive my youngest child truly is.

Today, shoulder to shoulder, she repeatedly beat off a fast striker from the other team, held her away from the net, stripped the ball, and sent it back where it came from.

Playing defense, as I have often noted, lacks glory. You rarely score goals or gather the accolades of your teammates.

But if you make so much as a single mistake, it can be fatal for your team's chances to win.

Today she played perhaps her best game ever, in the heat and the sun that followed a brief, light rainstorm the past two days -- weather she prefers.

In fact, she played such a physical game, repeatedly knocking her opponent cleanly off the ball, the parents of the other team were calling for fouls.

But she committed no fouls. There were no whistles, and no stoppages of play. There were no cards or foul shots.

It was all clean shoulder to shoulder contact and legal tackles.

She's learned her position well, mainly from her older brother, a pretty fair defender on his own right.

-30-

Throwaway things

You know what the problem with memory is? At some point you have more you'd prefer to forget than remember.

Tonight, trying to erase the odor of the cat, who peed in a place I would prefer he not pee, I found an old movie ticket stub, a restaurant receipt, and a forgotten photo.

Each piece of faded paper told a story. These are stories I didn't necessarily care to recall.

Now I have to.

The problem with memories that involve people you care about or once cared about and thought also cared about you is that all of those old feelings come up again.

Luckily, since my main purpose was to get rid of the smell, I could spray the whole lot of them with chemicals and throw them away.

No more ticket stub, no more meal receipt, and let's just forget what was happening when that photo was taken.

All gone to the trash.

Smelly trash.

-30-

Experimental Post

I'm thinking of changing this blog radically from what it has been, a quasi-journal with no real focus that is not searchable by Google, etc., into a new kind of place where I can explore my day to day dilemmas as a single male parent and unemployed journalist, open to all.

What do you think?

Here is my first attempt.

Tonight, I have this lovely boneless pork chop left over from last night's dinner. I want to reheat it but not dry it out.

My idea is to use some slices of fruit on-hand -- apple and Mandarin -- and wrap it in aluminum foil and heat in the oven for a bit. Hopefully this will add some moisture and maybe also taste.

Stay tuned. I'll let you know how it turns out...

-30-

Columbus Day

It's Columbus Day, or Indigenous People's Day in San Francisco. Either way, as the kids say, "Yay! A day off school."

There's nothing much for them to celebrate beyond that, but that's one of the best things they ever get to celebrate -- a long weekend.

I took them to lunch at our favorite local burrito place.

At lunch and afterward, as their banter turned to some serious issues some of them are facing, we all devolved into hysterical laughter.

There really is nothing quite like being around teenagers to realize just how absurd life is. They are often scheming about how to get out of this or that commitment, or into this or that party or concert.

Things that we adults would consider serious issues, like which high school or college they will go to, they see as more like a Picasso painting, i.e., distortions of reality.

When we try to tell them they may regret some of the decisions they make now later, they say things like, "That makes no sense. If I came back from the future to now I'd make the same decision again, for the same reason."

In many ways, teens are living in the moment much more than us elders ever can do. Burdened by our past, and fears about our future, we fear them making mistakes. Mistakes they may regret.

At some point, we have to just let it be. Let it be. Let them go.

There's no other way for it all to play out, according to nature's plan.

-30-

Applying for College

There's nothing quite like helping your kid fill out college applications to remind you just how little a series of numbers or checked boxes can tell you about a person's true nature.

These are institutions that want him (i.e., you) to go into debt at the rate of $30,000-50,000 a year, just for him to earn a four-year degree.

As we check off his race, ethnicity, SAT scores, classes he's taken, grades, family income, and on and on, it occurs to me that none of this in any tangible way tells his story.

We are just being reduced to comparatives. And if there is one thing I have learned as a journalist the past 45+ years, never reduce another person to a formula.

(Except, of course, if all you want is to sell that person something.)

I do not know what some admission officer somewhere might think about my son by scanning his application. I'm quite sure he will simply be sorted into one pile or another.

Unless they read his writing, where he reveals a bit of himself and his values, none of this other crap really matters at all.

Testing is broken and always has been. Character matters and always will.

I hope for him that someone in the chain of deciders understands character when it presents itself.

And that the match is a good one for him.

-30-

Back in the Game

It was great to see my son back on the pitch Tuesday. He had three assists off of long passes in the space of a couple minutes early on in a 5-0 win. He only played about half the game, as the other team could mount no attack and his coach did not want to run up the score.

His stitches are out and he feels fine. He likes his scar. Whereas Tuesday's game was played in scorching heat, around 95 degrees, today's will be in fog and wind. San Francisco's weather seems, if anything, even more unstable these days.

Sports.

The Giants made the playoffs; so did the Tigers and the A's. But sad that after being in first place almost all season, my fantasy team let the championship slip away in the last few days and lost by a few points. We did accumulate over 5,000 points, which usually wins the league title.

Not this time.

-30-

The Competitor: Tale of Two Days

Before yesterday's game in the Golden Gate Invitational Tournament, I knew my daughter wasn't feeling very good, but I had no idea what was wrong.

By the end of the first game, it was apparent she was sick or hurt. She said her tailbone hurt (she calls it her 'butt bone'), which is not the kind of injury I've ever had to deal with before.

She couldn't sit down properly and the pain also seemed to migrate around to her sides at times. As we scrambled to find some Ibuprofen, she fell asleep on a blanket during the team's between game picnic.

When a teammate woke her up, as the time came to prepare for the second game, she limped out onto the field but couldn't take part in the warmups. Her coach talked to her and advised me to take her home. Something was wrong.

Given that she was sleeping outside the past week, she mentioned hantavirus, a very scary thought; or the start of her period, a non-scary idea; or maybe just a sore lower back from sleeping on the lumpy ground all week.

She cried almost all the way home. I knew she was bitterly disappointed to miss her team's second game, and also either sick or tired or injured in some mysterious way that confused both her and me.

Back home, she got into her PJs, ate some comfort food, and watched TV with her brothers. By night she was still in a lot of pain but looking much better. I dropped her at her Mom's and later in the evening got a text that she would be ready to play today.

As she and her friend approached the tunnel to the Polo Fields today she was in a good mood. Her 'butt bone' still hurt and it took her a long time to be able to get out of the car (she refused my help) but once she was upright, she was most definitely game-ready.

Her coach started her, and as the game progressed, it was amazing to see her transformation, from a limping girl with a hurt back into a competitive soccer player using her size and strength to take care of business.

At one point she did something every defender has to be able to do. Her keeper was down, the ball was loose in front of the net, two opposing strikers were ready to score, and Julia got the ball, knocked them aside, and cleared it from the zone.

In my memory, this was the single best play I have ever seen her make.

A few moments later, as a striker tried to get around her,(and I know this is going to sound bad to those of you who don't know soccer) she knocked the girl to the ground, took the ball, and moved it upfield, starting a counter attack.

The referee did not blow his whistle and signaled it was a clean tackle -- in fact a brilliant defensive play.

Julia doesn't show it openly, but her competitive instincts are as impressive as any athlete I have ever known.

You could say I'm just a little bit proud of my youngest child!

The