Building Bridges Now: Connections from the past to the future

Takes Work. . .

Building takes work. Connections take mortar, clay, steel beams, concrete, planning, mistakes, corrections, and time. The distance between here and there can be treacherous. What once was there may fall into disarray and disrepair. If it is worth the time, then people will make efforts to make that connection. This is much how people are, too. Our relationships with our fellows may need to make that same mortar, clay, steel beams, and time. 

Lesson Learned

Building on what others have done in the past is vital on who we are. We learn the mistakes others have made and try not to make them. We learn that time heals wounds, but forgetting the past also has its problems. We are liable to make the same mistakes.

Building a Legacy

Watched a Iron Man 2 this weekend. Show begins with Robert Downey, Jr. playing the role of Tony Stark, brilliant billionaire business man. He is the maker of Iron Man suit and he holds an expo with the theme of building a legacy. That of his father, his own, the world’s Legacy.

Just Standing Around Looking at the Grass. . .

Before heading to cemetery to see Rochelle and Tatay, I asked one of my nieces (actually according to Family Tree, its my first cousin, once removed) if she wanted to go. Let’s call her 3^rd gen. Anyways, I asked her if she wanted to go and she said, “Why? All you are going to do there is stand around and look at the grass and stone tablet.” Thought this was quite astute for a six year old. Tried saying it was out of respect and that we need to see those that have gone away. She answered, “They are dead. They can’t say anything.” Didn’t want to lecture or discuss metaphysical stuff of life and afterlife.  Got a bit frustrated with myself that I wasn’t able to explain to her in terms that she would understand. This was something to chew on.

Will Not Be Unturned

Well, anyways, we got to the cemetery and it was quite busy. Gardeners were trying to close the early, but Uncle John wasn’t having it. He waited patiently for them to open the gates. We still had a half hour before closing.

Drove inside. It was packed. Cars were lined up and down the roadway. I could see why they gardeners were anxious to leave.  It was Mother’s Day. Uncle John and Mom put the fresh roses and carnations in the flower holder. Dropped off the necklace, Kaprece, Kaelynn, and I made at the Relay for Life Cancer Walk.

Family Stories Being Told

There we stood around and looked around on the grass and stone tablet as my niece predicted. We talked about the upcoming family events, Chris’s wedding in three days, Uncle John’s venture to the PI for HS reunion, and Aunty Flor’s return trip back home.

Star of David

Couldn’t help think of the conversation with first cousin once removed earlier in the day, Also had a talk with Lynn, my niece. Lynn’s ten now. We were brunching with the Palmdale Fam’s at El Torito. For some reason, the conversation lead to talk about history. The conversation starter was the Star of David on my niece’s thumbnail. I talked about the mont blanc pens and the star of David on top of the pen cover. Talked about Hitler commissioned to have the best pen of the world made. (Mont Blancs run from $100 to $1000s of dollars per pen). Unbeknownst to the Nazi leader, the pen makers were of Jewish descent. They placed the Star of David on top of the cap cover and there it remains. I asked her, if she knew who Hitler was? She said, “No.”

History Is More Than Class In School

This scared me a bit. How can she not know? Maybe it’s good that she didn’t know about the Holocaust at this time. It reminded me when I asked if she knew Muhammad Ali was. She said, “No” then too. Realizing people not knowing about the past scared me a bit. Historical figures that were prominent in my growing up reminded me that we need to take to share the oral history of our past. It may be time to bring children to cemeteries to show them that the past is important.  To remind children, History is important. To remind them people before are important. To remind them to respect and understand the past. It is time to learn History is more than a class in school.

This is daunting task, but one well worth the effort. With the advent of technology, we should be able to bridge the past and the future much easier. I hope in time the children remember to be more this lesson I hope in time we are the legacy and foundation of the future. I hope that we can teach the children that cemeteries are more than grass and stone tablets. I hope that even though people shed their mortal coils, the children learn that our loved ones are still alive in our hearts.

Avenue N and Sierra Highway

You Remind Me of A Girl I Once Knew. . .
First time was with Chelle. It was a place where we parked. Sunroof open, heater on. Desert Sky. We sat in the dark, listened to the music and enjoyed the night.

We would sit and watch stars. Planes would take off and land. Started going all the time. Middle of the day. Late at night. Early morning. Cars would just park. Then by I'd go myself. (Its better with company) Don’t know why others would go. The reason I went, besides parking with Chelle, was because it had good energy here.

Smoke Rising. . .
This place was uplifting. People coming home. People taking off. Reminded me of landing at LAX from Boston, to see Mom and Dad. It was where journey began. It was where the journey ended. It was a place where dreams would sail to the sky.

It is said when one lights an incense candle, one should put their hopes and dreams on the rising smoke. One does this so that your dreams and wishes can be sent to heaven to be answered. Maybe that is why I sit there? To be inspired. Its a place where I can see dreams take off. Its my place to watch the sunrise. A place for having my G-time. A place to watch the planes touch down and take off. A place to watch the trains go by. Its a place of  change. A place where the journey begins.

Palmdale's Ark
Always felt comfortable in this place of change. It’s the place of excitement. It was the place of blending. It was place of discovery, a place where dreams can take off and become true. After sitting there a few times, started noticing the surroundings. One thing is the boat. One thing is the flag. One things is the plaque. All these things are just something one would not expect in the middle of the desert, but there they are.

Mojave Cross, A Place to Be Honored
Recently, the Supreme Court ruled that it was okay for the Mojave Cross be left alone. Mojave Cross--CSM article There was some court rulings that wanted the removal of the Mojave Cross. It was  placed on Federal grounds,some seventy years ago and due to the separation of church and state belief, people were fighting to have it removed. I understand reasoning why people want it removed. I understand reasoning why people don’t want it removed. Some people just don’t want such religious beliefs to be broadcasted out the universe. Some do.

Graffiti, A Cry To Be Remembered
Not comparing the Mojave Cross, with graffiti. Well, maybe, I am. It is symbolism. It is an act of recognition. It is an act to be remembered. Sometimes the means and methods can misguided.

At times, graffiti  is ugly and does not belong. Don’t necessarily think all graffiti is bad. Grafitti thoughts Call me strange. Some works are just plain beautiful. They say that art is a reflection of a society. Sometimes society is ugly.

When I see graffiti, I try to see the meaning behind it. When I see graffiti on walls, train sections, bridges, signs, I feel somewhat sad. Some say it's a mark of territory. To me, it is just a person wish to remembered. Their best option was a late night, adrenalin filled moment of temporary immortality. Instead of bringing fame, it brings infamy. They don’t care that generally society sees this as ugly. Perhaps it is a defiant call, saying "I am me and I cry out my existence."This I admire, but there other avenues.

Their Goodness Does Not Perish. . .
These undirected cries of individuality is understandable. I believe most of us don’t want to be forgotten.

I don’t know who this BJ person is, but I read an article sometime back in the Valley Press. Pretty lengthy article of this devoted person that would be at the spot, my spot, our spot doing the same thing I was doing. Just watching, parking, be inspired, I don't know. He loved this place so. He loved this place so much that some friends and family made a plaque for this him.

When visiting the cemetery to see Rochelle, Marvin, Tatay, and Mary.  I remember good moments. I remember the love. . .The Love. Their lives are a remembrance of a life lived. A moment where we shared something beautiful. Something meaningful. Something . . .It’s just love.

So when I think of the Mojave Cross, when I think of the plaque, when I write a blog post, I think that I, too, want to be remembered (Hopefully fondly). Maybe its my cry for temporary immortality.When I look at these everything I see the importance of how everything counts. Perhaps instinctively, we know there shall be an end. In time. In history, we would liked to be remembered.  Perhaps, we know, things get erased. Things return to the stardust from which we all came from. 

Let Go, Let God
So enjoy your journey. Create the pleasant memories. Some may try paint mental and emotional graffiti on your art. It happens. So to those that matter--that truly matter-- they will remember the good that you brought in the world. For those that write ugly words, just paint over it. Their view of Love and Life are already warped. They hurt. That is all that they can share with the Universe. In time, they will grow out of childish things. So leave them to find their way. When they grow up, keep your arms and hearts open. In the meantime, Move on. Your ship is sailing and you don't know where it will land. It may be on Sierra Highway and Avenue N.

Life happens so make Life Happen.

Uncommon Strength: In Her Greatest Need. . .

Saturday. I sit in Panera. It's a nice place. A pretend fire is to my right. Plugged in at one of the precious outlets. People are eating their soup with their fancy bread bowls. (My favorite, by the way) Listening the classical piano overhead. I hear the musing of the people behind me. Their daily log of their life’s events.

Hmmm. Life events. It’s been almost two months since the year began. There still much to do. . .and still much to do. I’ve put some things on the backburner. Been making choices not to do things. I guess, I am bit afraid to them. Time is coming to end and they need to be done. I need to get these things done. There’s been some events that have lead me different ways—and they are all good. Yet, I need to get these things accomplished.

Plugged the ipod and put on my Nike+. Checked my status and I still lead in a few challenges. Fallen behind in some. Yet, I feel that I could do and need to do more. Last month finished around 100 miles. This month only 32 miles. That is a big drop. No fault but my own. Need to commit hardcore. Need to make the time. Need to do my road work. Need to do my faith road work, too. I am feeling a calling. Funny things is that the clouds the sun giving me a peak. Well, funny. I know it sounds strange. Maybe sharing my experiences is what is my calling.

Had a few signs of late. Did not want to write about it because there was some time that I need to appreciate it. I needed to go in a cave and just take in all the wonderfulness of it all. Taking a breath some things have changed. My niece asked me where would I go if I moved. Honestly, I just said Palmdale. Its my home. It’s my place. Its where my family are. Wherever they are is where it is most important.  Traveled around southern California. Worked from Ventura to Garden Grove. Would have traveled to other states, but I would been away from where I needed to be.

It has been that way for awhile. Been away. Been disconnected from the source. It seems life events have given me a moment of pause to course correct. Not there yet, but I am getting there, In this group I accidentally joined, it appears that I am the male energy. I suspect what my purpose is with this group. Not ready to share, but I sense my purpose.

One lady said that they want to hear my story. Their heart and minds have opened. I am really out of the norm for this group. All, except me, are elderly ladies. All married. All are artists-in-the making. They have some stories they share. They are a tight group that have shared many life experiences. It’s a coven, of sorts. It feels like I am a group of healers. I know that I was drawn here for a reason. Much wisdom is here. Much energy is here. Much change is in the group. Feels a bit weird, but its welcoming.

The leader of the group reminds me of an earth mother, the Gaea archetype. Much wisdom. Much passion. A Strength of an earth mother imbued with a gift. She has the gift of words. She said that I have much to say. In many ways, this is so true. 

We had an exchange. Like a protecting mother, she fought with energy. I felt it. Don't know if she felt the force. Needed not to take it personally, yet, I needed to stand to the brunt. Yes, there was some fear. Fear of her energy. Fear of angry words. Fear of consequence. Yet, I still needed to stand. Philosophical challenge. Fundamental differences. Like Democrats and Republicans warring on whatever. Their logic, their feelings, their beliefs were strong. Yet, I needed to stand. If war, then let it come. Let's hope this will last war for the colonies.  A house divided will not stand.

Ideologically, it was a struggle between disconnecting and forgetting the past and everything. I wanted to maintain the energy to stay connected. Being a introvert, I know the comfort of not being hurt by others. I cocooned and I'm in the rebirth stage. I don't want to dismiss the past. There is a strength of ancestors that we can not and should not leave. True, their are flaws passed and their stories are not necessarily ours.  Yes, we need to listen to our own stories and listen to our own voice. Being a loner, I know where she comes from. I subscribe one can will ourselves to be anything. I know this all to well. I know walking alone. Hopefully. . .

I will endure because I feel like a diamond being polished. After being crushed, pressured with constant force, I feel that I am being polished now. My facets are coming out. A master cutter is where I am. They have given me tools that I am learning to use to shine. It will be some time.  I hope in this exchange that I will provide the same change for them to flourish too.

That’s it for this post.

Everything Counts

Tuesday morning. Where do I start? I sit in It's A Grind. Had a morning everything bagel, buttered. No hot cocoa this morning. No service on my Blackberry. No internet service. Thank goodness for Wi-Fi. Not sure where this thread will lead me, but I'm sure something will emerge. The call to Jung's Collective Unconscious. Things are at critical mass now.

Chris leaves by the end of the week. He's at the Radisson for med check.  Sony is cocooning hard core. Not going out much I suspect. John and Ryan are Rolling around. Anesha and Jon are at restaurants all the time. Mitch is having issues. He's feeling out on the lurch. Antoinette and Myk I am not sure. None of them went Chris's going away. Kind of sucks. No it sucks.

Other things were more important. Its the convergence and divergence.  Families and friends spread out and go their way. They leave what's familiar for go to explore other things. They find out who they are. At times people forget who they were in order to become who they need to be. Sometimes people choose to follow different paths.

Don't suspect I will see Chris for sometime. He's re-enlisting. He proposed to Jewel at the going away. In the middle of truth or dare. Good for him. Think that was the reason I felt the need to go. I may not see him in like forever. May never ever. Just wanted to hold on a little longer. This may be the last chance. Off to go find his destiny.

Guess, at parties, its indicator how and much think of you. If they show up or call, if they do nothing, or they forget, if they throw birthday celebration, it is how much you are cared for. Had my birthday recently, I won't say much about that. It is reflection on how you have or have not impacted people's lives. They say when one is the hospital, the one that shows up first is the one that loves you the most. I'm in the hospital. I see it all the time.

I fear my past has  or is catching up. Divergence is happening within my families. Each one going their own way. Palmdale. Victorville. Culver City. Camarillo. West Covina. Glendale. Burbank. Family tress is branching out. Becoming their own thread.

In a generation in half, we will be forgotten. When our children pass. When our children's childrens pass, we will be forgotten. Not ever to be remembered. Got this line from the movie Troy with Brad Pitt. In this age, the heroes of yesteryear are forgotten. Only images and moments etched in memory do they live on. We must take a bite of that apple, so that it will be part of us. It will always be part of us, no matter how short it is. (Phenomenon movie)

Go to that party which may be an hour and half drive. Go to that one of many dance recitals. Gymnastic competition. Watch that them grow and go. The ties that bind is more than the blood coursing the veins. Its the moments of pain and love. Its the moments of hellos and goodbyes. its those celebration of everyday. Our time is finite. Our love needs to be cherished. Our love needs to be nourished by that hug, that word of encouragement, that time together. Before next times become never anymore, go.

Moments happen every second. Moments gone. Moments lost. Moments happen everywhere. There is never nothing happening. Moments are everywhere. Just need to watch. Need to listen. Need to feel.

Well, this moment is over. Got to start a new thread.

Stand Up. You Are Not Alone, You Stand On the Shoulders of Your Ancestors

Principle and the Person: Are They One In The Same?
Sitting in Barnes & Noble watching “Nothing, but the Truth.” It’s a movie about the courage of reporter played Kate Beckinsale that was sent to jail. She held to her conviction and was jailed for almost three year for holding onto her beliefs. She held in the face of mortal harm—in the face of the weight of the government—in the face of troubled marriage--She held her ground. I am sure she would have done many things differently. Yet she held to a noble belief. Alan Alda playing the attorney that represented her through her incarceration had line that will stick me for awhile. The line was, ” I am representing you and not representing (your) principles.” Later in circumspect he said, “There is no difference between the principle and the person.”

What does this mean? If one has no principle, than one is not a person. In many ways, I find solace and strength in this belief. Certain beliefs, certain principles, certain faiths—these abstractions are the stuff of who we are. If we do not hold on or cherish these thought—these beliefs--these abstract concepts--we are no longer something more. We are simply the action and reaction of events. We are the nature/ nurture conundrum. We are simply the result. We are not something more. We are just the end results of previous events.

No Heart And No Soul—Nothing, But Chemical Reactions and Behavior Modifications.
I fall back on the “Defense of God” argument that was written earlier. We are the man-made concepts that describe things. We are cold—the absence of heat. We are darkness—the absence of light. We are evil—the absence of the Big Smile. Freedom, faith, love, hate, belief are just man-made concepts that gets us through the nights. Lies and fables that molds us to follow certain behavior. Hammurabi’s code, US Constitution, the Bible, Koran, the Torah—All this would mean that the stories are nothing, but management how-to book. The stories and fables are just a model of the human animal’s behavior.

No Convictions And No Soul Equals No Person
Can’t help but think we are nothing without conviction. If this true, it sends chills down my spine and through my soul. Analyze the person in the mirror. Who is he? Who is she?

I say a person of a conviction must stand. To be more, he needs to believe he is more. He needs to believe that he is part of something more. If it is a genetic program hardwired in our DNA, if it is a millennium of social engineering shaped by mythology and societal dogma, then let it be. Like re-writing the text, re-writing the program, let us remake who we are to be something more. We need to believe in order to achieve. See it, be it.

Be the Nail That Stands Up. Fear Not the Hammer
I say stand. Be the nail that tries to get hammered down. Be the one standing for something to believe in. Realize one thing you are not alone. You will never be alone. One will never be alone. Can you stand in the fire? Can you stand under the light? Can you stand alone on a belief?

Amistad—Stolen People, Stolen Story
Again, I steal. Not intentionally. This concept arose from a movie that moved me. The film was Amistad. Please watch this movie on the human spirit. It was not my intention to steal this film’s moral of the story. As I started writing, the moral revealed itself. Amistad encapsulates the human spirit to be more than what was before them. To grow, to develop, to evolve into something better, something grander—this is our charge.

Person and His Convictions Are Not Separate, But Irrefutably Infused
Are you and your principles separate or they infused? I argue there is a difference between being and intelligent person versus being a wise person. For me, knowing something is right and doing something right are often not the same act.

This link below is the movie speech that moved me. I hope you take time to watch and listen to moral of this story. http://www.americanrhetoric.com/MovieSpeeches/moviespeechamistadjqadams.html

Be more. Be your own Hero. Stand up. John Quincy Adams stated “. . .When a member of the Mende encounters a situation where there appears no hope at all, he invokes his ancestors. It's a tradition. See, the Mende believe that if one can summon the spirits of one's ancestors, then they have never left, and the wisdom and strength they fathered and inspired will come to his aid.” Stand up you are not alone. You stand on the shoulders of your ancestors.

Starbuck Musings--Cahuenga Way

1/2/2010 6:56:45 PM
Another Starbuck musing.

Betty Page Plays On Her Pink DS
This time I sit out in the corner of Cahuenga and Barham off ramp. It’s a bit breezy. Cars whiz by. A lady sits to the side playing her DS. Pink in color. Kind of funny. Must be in her mid- to late-20s. Dressed in Black. Grey boots. Black and white checkered jacket. Short hair. Sitting away from people. Off in her little DS world. Pink stands out because she reminds me of the Pinup girl Betty Page with black hair. Short Mod hair cut. Fingers racing away on her game.

I notice a glint by her face. Glasses. I wonder what is her deal. Sitting in Starbucks lounge playing DS. Is she waiting for someone? Is she getting away? She just sits, sits and plays. Wait, she looks at her blackberry, Curve, I think. I have a similar phone. No text. No IM. No ring. She sits back and again her fingers are ablaze. Leaning back on the chaise chair. Her foot taps unhurriedly. An Venti. No, it’s a Tall. Tall means small in Starbuck speak. Tall is really not that tall. Venti is large. Whatever. Her drink is done. A crumbled napkin sits inside.

I see no book. I see no sign that her venture will be that of reading exploration. Dressed nice (kind of) Probably waiting for someone is my guess. A date, possibly. Her legs cross and uncross. . .and cross again. She twirls her foot and her feet tap reservedly to the beat of Starbuck music.


Couples Dress Alike: Why?
A conversation walks by. An athletic couple. Both dressed in workout clothes. She in tight spandex leggings and form-fitting white nike athletic shirt. He’s wearing the same. Starbuck cup in hand. She is 5’5”. He’s 6’, perhaps. He’s maybe a runner. Former football player. Muscular, kind of. He turns to answer her question. They turn the corner as cars pass by.

It’s a little past mid-day. It’s a lot past mid-day. Precisely, its 3:13pm from what my laptop states. Shadows from the trees and power lines blanket the patio of the beloved Starbucks.


Jamie and Pat: Asian Couple Converse
An Asian couple walks by. The black haired girl turns her head expectedly. A sigh comes out. Not him, I suspect she is saying to herself. She turns back to her pink companion. Not the one she is waiting for. This mystery is getting to me.
Korean, maybe? Thai? I know it’s not Filipino or Japanese. Asians, just know these things.

The Asian lady glances my way. I avert my eyes. She is not my type. No eye contact. Look away I say to myself. Look away. My urge to get up and grows. Is it the cool breeze or is her stare. I don’t know. Her companion speaks in a gutter-ish. Chinese. I bet they are Chinese. “Shey shey” I hear one say. I thinks that’s Mandarin.

Oh, oh. The girl in the checkered coat gets up. She readies herself to leave. Takes one last puff on her cigarette. She gathers her bag and she is gone. She wore all black, except for the red belt, maybe. Went too fast. She gathered her stuff and she took off. Gone like the athletic couple. Mystery remains a mystery. Was she stood up? Did her batteries die? I am troubled. My questions unanswered.

The Chinese girl sitting in the far chair speaks, but I don’t understand her. She’s wearing a pink, no. Red and white shirt with Flower prints. She has a Tall drink sitting in front of her. (Small in Starbuck speak) Her friends drink requires a heat-thing. A cover coat. I don’t know, but that is what I will call it, a Cover coat for her coffee. Her friend gets up and leave. Initially, I thought it was guy with short hair. But, it looks it girl with a Flock of Seagulls hair cut. Kind of Dike-ish. The girl in pink coughs. She wears Black rimmed glasses. I wonder what her conversation was about. Her friend went back inside the café.

They are playing that song from the movie Nine. “Be ITALIAN”.

Her manly girlfriend is also wearing a plaid hoodie. She drinks, or is it a he? I dunno. He/she glances this way. Little do they know they are part of my Starbucks musings. Let’s call the pink friend Jamie. She reminds of this heavy girl in the second grade that had I had issues with. Her lips move, but nothing comes out. She scratches her face. It looked like she was picking her nose.

Anyways, her friend, lets call him/her Butch. Crosses his leg like a man. He/she shakes his/her head in a masculine way. I hear his/her voice. Sounds feminine. Its gotta be. Well, he/she pulls on his cross leg closer to him/her. I still don’t know if it’s a girl or guy. He/she dresses like a guy, but kind of looks like a woman. Body frame is svelte, in a husky kind of way. Maybe, Pat is a better name. Very Androgynous.


Jason Calls for Warmer Climate
Alas, their interactions no longer interests me. I think it’s time to go in. Jason, my cousin, has had his head covered for awhile. The breeze from the car and the cool winter day has made sitting here a little. . . It has me wanting a more warmer climate. Must run. This exercise in the Starbucks Cahuenga musing is over.