New York Skies

I remember in the past when it seemed rare to spot a truly blue sky above Manhattan but that's changed, along with a lot of other things about this city. As I said to someone it's a lot more like San Francisco here now than it used to be.

Today the weather is lovely and the city is beautiful.

My son appears to be fine after the soccer injury; we spoke briefly this morning. That's a relief.

My colleagues on the editorial board of The Nation led a spirited discussion of the coming election and other matters this afternoon. There is a consensus that what I reported some time back is likely -- Obama, the Democrats keep the Senate, the Republicans keep the House.

But the nation's oldest continuously publishing weekly magazine has a long collective memory -- back to 1865 -- and our predecessors made many endorsements over the past century and a half.

Progressives are very disappointed with Obama's first term, as he has been tepid on many key issues that matter a lot to any progressive agenda. On the other hand, with the GOP in the control of a extremist element that mistakes the public sector (government) for an ideology (i.e., socialism), there's no sympathy toward Romney's dilemma.

Electoral maps are collections of numbers and the numbers are all trending for Obama, most importantly in the relatively few swing states, like Florida, Virginia, Michigan, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin.

Romney appears to be failing in all of them, which if it holds, suggests a runaway victory for the President.

Things can change; there's time, but little seems really at play any longer on the Presidential election level.

Emergency Call

As I sit in my hotel room in New York tonight, the mirror above the desk where my computer is perched is such that all I can see of myself is the thinning white hair on the top of my head.

I've just returned from a lovely dinner with friends at a Korean restaurant near here; a dinner interrupted by disturbing news.

A parent at my son's soccer game today, which was one of the very few I have ever missed during his long career, alerted me that he had been hurt, perhaps badly, and could I get him his Mom's phone number.

During a series of calls and texts back and forth, I established that he had collided with another player head on head, that they had both collapsed and were bleeding from their heads.

Onlookers were sufficiently alarmed that they wanted to cal an ambulance, but a sports trainer on hand taped the boys up and said they could wait for their parents to arrive before going to the hospital.

As I write these words, Aidan is being sewed up in the ER. He has a deep gash on his forehead that requires several stitches. They are also checking him for concussion symptoms.

Over the years I've attended almost every one of his games. Why did this have to happen tonight? Not that being there would have helped anything, of course. If I'd witnessed the accident, I probably would be even more worried than I am, as I sit here alone, awaiting word from way across this very large continent...

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Down Times, Hoping for Up

Watching Balboa take a 3-0 lead yesterday in the first half against their arch-rival Lowell, with one of the goals orchestrated by a great throw-in from the sideline by Aidan (photo above), I momentarily revisited the wonderful positive dreams of the past three years for this little school's soccer team.

After almost three decades of losing seasons they have had three straight winning seasons.

And beating Lowell, which has a long (20+) game winning streak would be a major accomplishment for him and his teammates in his senior year.

He's co-captain of the squad and the younger kids on the team look up to him.

But a win was not to be. Lowell stormed back to win it in the end, 4-3.

As we walked back to the car, he allowed that this one hurt. We both know any dreams he might have had for a championship season are rapidly evaporating now. There are only 12 games this year, under a re-figured schedule, and Balboa will have to win 6 or 7 to have any mathematical chance, realistically, of making the championships.

Meanwhile, his head coach suddenly resigned last Friday. An interim coach worked yesterday. A new coach shows up tomorrow.

Anyone who knows anything about team sports knows this kind of instability is a recipe for disaster.

I feel so sorry for my son. After all his years of hard work, it appears his senior year will be a disaster, through no fault of his. If anything, he's playing at the peak of his ability.

But none of it may matter.

That said, he knows it is his responsibility to be a leader, whether things go well or badly. In that sense, this is his chance, on another level, to show what he is made of.

If this team comes back and turns into a winner, he will a key reason behind that.

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Safer Drivers in Training

Today my 18-year-old and I resumed his driving lessons, after a very long hiatus. He did quite well, down there on the flats next to the Bay on Illinois Street.

Teaching someone to drive, in my view, is a sacred responsibility. As the driver sits behind the wheel of a vehicle, he or she could easily end another person's life, not by purpose but just by making a mistake.

Cognizant of this, as a teacher, I counsel caution, maintaining slow speeds, alertness, and never being unprepared for the unexpected.

Not that I think I am a good teacher. But, as a cautious person by nature, I try to pass that along to my students.

I suppose I have two more drivers to teach, before the end of my time. Today, it was gratifying to see how much my son has retained after a very long gap since the last time he drove with me.

He is my nature a careful person. Today he did well. We'll move on from here, from the uncrowded flat streets next to the Bay like Illinois Street, to more challenging places soon enough.

My goal is to let him join the world of drivers as one of the safer ones. We need those!

Random Words in the Stream

My 18-year-old is excited that he can vote and that he can get a driver's license and that he can legally get a tattoo in California -- the latter of which he accomplished last night.

But the DMV is no longer open on Saturdays, so our trip there yesterday resulted in disappointment. We're both anxious for him to get his permit so I can help him continue to learn how to drive a car.

Not far from the empty DMV was a crowded soccer field where my youngest had her second game of the season; they lost again but battled back from an 0-2 deficit to score late and almost tied it up as well.

After looking a bit tentative at first, she kicked into gear in the second half as the good defender she is.

I'm just starting to get to know some of the other parents of players on this team -- a big departure from the experience of knowing lots of people well after years of watching our kids play together.

So my son's team is 0-2 also. This does not look to be a year of championships for either squad.

***

Day after day, I write and write. The words tumble out, I post them, and move on. Occasionally I hear from someone who's read them, mostly I have little idea whether they have any impact at all.

Old friends and readers drop away, move on, find other sources for information. It's a political season, but there's relatively little worth saying about it, actually.

That's because the balance of power appears unlikely to change. Obama has a clear if not yet definitive lead over Romney. It looks like the House of Representatives will stay pretty much as it is now, firmly in the GOP's control. The Democrats have no chance to retake the House, given the current math.

The only house of Congress in play is the Senate, but even there it looks like the Democrats will maintain their control, though perhaps losing a seat or two. At 52, they need only 50, assuming Obama wins, and they appear to have 48, with six seats still in play.

They should win at lest three of those.

***

At least there is one source of excitement around here, as the San Francisco Giants close in on winning their division and returning to the playoffs, as they did two years ago.

The writer's problem is not finding the words. We have too many words, if anything.

The problem is the silence. Your own words end up in an echo-chamber much of the time, speaking back to you louder than you'd prefer.

Escape from this can only be found through human connection. But a journalist's work, all too often, relies on continuous conversations where we are the ones taking notes. So, as fabulous as the conversation may be, we're working at it and hardly enjoying ourselves.

A real talk, not for work, feels far better, even though every person I interview I try to forge some sort of connection with, even if only briefly.

After all, that brief moment may be the only one that breaks the silence, shuts down the echo, and allows some sort of relief from life on the hamster wheel.

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