Holiday Saturday

A great day, as they go. The kids all here and we did some Christmas shopping and then (photo above) went to a movie late this afternoon in Daly City. I love the way the three of them enjoy doing things together -- just like their older siblings.

Within families there are competitions, of course, and sometimes negative consequences. But overall I have to say both of my wives (and I hope I) have done a pretty good job of raising six wonderful kids who love and appreciate each other.

Overall, it felt like a special day to me.

It's chilly in San Francisco. Christmas lights adorn many of the houses around here. Everyone's buying presents for each other.

There are many dark things and sad things and unfair things all around, but tonight I'm focused on the more hopeful lights in our lives.

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The Ups and the Downs

I apologize to anyone who checks this blog as I no longer have the energy to update it very often. I'm working very long hours at KQED, where we once again today broke an investigative story online.

Also, today brought a call from my youngest child nearly in tears. She'd lost her cellphone. I told her it was okay, and to use her friend's phone to dial her lost phone, just in case someone nice had found it, here in this mixed neighborhood, of rich, poor, and desperate people, the Mission.

She did and guess what? A store owner answered. Someone had found her phone and turned it in.

One of my holiday gifts for Julia is a new phone case for that lost and now found phone.

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With the Angels

At the memorial service for Michael Goodman in San Anselmo this afternoon, as she was singing a traditional prayer, it struck me what a beautiful voice the rabbi has. People talked about Michael; I was one of them. They talked about his kind face, his warm smile, his generous nature.

This is how we remember each other. We remember the good that is in each of us.

Michael's oldest son, Elliott, spoke for a bit. He seemed so grown up, eloquent and so much his father's son.

Many of us in that little chapel were in the same room for the first, and probably only time of our lives. Michael brought us together -- grieving for him.

I miss my friend, his warm nature, the way he was always so supportive of me and my challenges.

Elliott said his father is an angel now, with the other angels.

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Bad Neighborhood

How much do you tell your kids?

I've always wanted them to feel safe here in my neighborhood, when they visit me, but the truth is that this is not a safe neighborhood. Some of the things they like here -- including visiting the corner store -- are problematic.

It turns out that the nice family running that store was busted last year for passing off counterfeit $50 bills as change.

Across the street, the Chinese family that runs a never-ending garage sale, has some sort of scam going on that the police are aware of. When neighbors complain, they slash their tires.

Two blocks away, yesterday in mid afternoon, a man shot another man over some sort of dispute. The proprietor says it was a case of outsiders encountering each other in our neighborhood.

Muggings, shootings, break-ins, burglaries of cars, stolen cars, gun violence -- all of these are common crimes here now.

As our society devolves into a Third World nation of haves and have-nots, my children are among those caught in-between. We are neither rich nor poor.

It is scary here.

I am no longer at all happy in this place, living alone, trying to help my kids stay safe. This is a very lonely place to be. I do not like the America I see emerging as I approach my final years. I do not like this place at all. I do not like being all alone, with no partner to talk to or hold. I never expected my old age to be so lonely. Now that two of the friends I would have talked this through with are gone, I feel even more alone. No Raul. No Michael. No one to answer my phone calls. No one at all.

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This is our (new) family tradition

Aidan, Dylan and Julia with James and Leif singing Karaoke on Thanksgiving night.

This is our Family.

Cold Outside, Warm In

Watching my childhood team, the Detroit Lions, on TV play in heavy snow in Philadelphia, is a reminder of what winter is like in the Midwest. The snow is up to six inches thick and the players fumbled eight times in the first half.

As a kid I played football in the snow, and hockey. It's cold but you get used to it.

Out here, walking several blocks to visit friends last night, I shivered, as the temperature dipped into the 40's, which is extremely cold for us. We don't have the right clothes for cold snaps.

As I sipped hot tea and my friends build a fire in the fireplace, it was nice to be inside in a warm place, having an animated conversation for a couple hours.

It's 11 am and 42 degrees in San Francisco. My heater works and I've located a sweater.

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Goodbye to a Sweet Friend, Michael

My youngest son called me tonight with the very sad news that our friend Michael Goodman died Saturday of a heart attack.

We've known Michael since Dylan and Aidan were young. We all met when the boys were in preschool together. Over the years, his sons, Elliott and Julian, and mine became fast friends of a rare sort. The sort that showed up at each others' sports games, cheering for one another.

The type that enjoyed weeks together at Camp Mather.

The sort who had sleepovers, played video games, and spent precious times together, as a foursome. Most often, when they did so, the next morning Michael was there cooking them a big, delicious breakfast.

This was a man who struggled to support his family, just as I did mine. He was thrown out of work, thanks to the economic changes that are strangling what used to be our middle class dreams. But he never gave up hope that he would find the next job.

Over and over he kept trying to do the right thing for his family.

He ended up losing his marriage, much as I lost mine. Still, he kept on being a great Dad, a great friend, and a wonderful host to my boys whenever our kids got together.

Tonight I am in mourning for Michael Goodman. I am a better person for having had the privilege of knowing him.

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