"Staying Alive"

Robin Gibbs, one of the three founding members of the 70's iconic disco/rock group The Bee Gees died this past week of liver problems or more likely the cause was "hard  living". He was younger than I am when he died but if the pictures in the paper are reasonably accurate, he looked a lot older than me even before he got sick. I'm not about bagging on him or any of the rockers of the past decades. I mention him only because of the song the Bee Gee's did in the 70's that was good then and is still good today. "Staying Alive, Staying Alive"

What are the factors to "staying alive"? All kinds of things must go right: good genetics, no major illnesses or accidents, good luck, a guardian angel on your shoulder never hurt either. Then there are the factors a person can control like: food, rest, relationships, and activity. I am speaking here today about activity. I know, I know there are plenty of people that sit on the porch drinking lemonade, swishing away flies and they live to an old age. I get it, it's different for different people. God bless those that can do very little and be happy. May the newspaper and the rocking chair be your life-long friends. It's not me though, not by 180 degrees.

I think I began running in 1975 as a way to ward off 2 things: the nervous breakdown I was going through and anxiety like you wouldn't believe. The nervous breakdown was caused by a bad childhood (won't go into that now), and triggered by the loss of a girlfriend in a car accident a few years before. A car accident that I should have been in. Mary wanted me to come to her place New year's Eve in Redondo Beach and after getting off work, I thought it too far to drive in a pretty thick fog in my little VW bug. So I begged off despite her asking me repeatedly to come up. So, she decided to go to her company party at General Telephone and was killed crossing Pacific Coast Highway right in front of her work. I felt guilty for the longest time. I was pissed off at everyone.  Had I gone up we wouldn't have gone out etc. Take that guilt and anger, add it to years of frustration, anger already built up, plus years of not eating right, smoking cigarettes and being a coffeeholic and well you can imagine what I was like in November of 1975. Hair turning white? That was the least of my problems then. 

So I began to run. My first run on the tiny Balboa Island (where I was living, if you want to call living in a cave like apartment living) was about 100 yards and I thought I was going to cough up my lungs. I didn't know anything about anything. Meaning stretching, proper shoes, nutrition, running clothes nothing. After one week I was up to 130 yards but had sore legs you couldn't believe. Slowly I began to ask questions, and got with it. When I ran I felt better, endorphin's kick in and I would get a sense of empowerment and peacefulness. I lived for the few minutes a day that I could run and not feel so sad, disoriented, lost, depressed. I also got into nutrition, stopped smoking and turned to herb teas. I began a long road in therapy,(5 years worth) going back and undoing every f'ing kink in the garden hose of my life. I had a lot of them and I had to undo them one painful unkinking at a time. I was prescribed Valium by my doctor but I never took even one. I left them sit in the bottle on my medicine cabinet shelf for a month. I looked at them everyday and debated in my mind about it everyday until one day I just opened up the bottle and poured them down the toilet. That was a vote for me learning to take care of me. Running became my Valium.


I never was a great runner. You would have won the lottery sooner than me become a really good runner. I did half-marathons and 10K's, fun runs and charity runs. As I got older, I noticed little by little, that I had less gas in the tank, and was getting less gas mileage, but I still needed to run as if to prove to myself that who I had become out of the mess of who I had been was still there. Therapists Jim and Terry did a good job of helping me see that what happened to Mary was not my fault but I always retained the sense that I had been self-centered and selfish by saying no to her, especially because she had said "Pleeease" several times and I still didn't go. I  promised myself I wouldn't be selfish and self-centered again and for the most part I never was. If a friend needed me I would be there, if a student needed a recommendation letter they would get it, if I was up to my eye balls in grading but a student wanted me to look at a paper for suggestions I would do it. I still will.

Disintegrating is painful, it's scary and there are moments when you aren't sure you will ever be back together. Take a guess how many times I thought I was crazy and going to stay that way?
Reintegrating is slow and there are set backs, but the goal is a new and improved you.
 Running is what helped me climb out of a deep deep hole and I still run today, well run and walk. I am grateful for still being able to get out there in the sun and do what I can. I still push myself. I recently did a 5 mile run/walk at Lake Miramar and felt tired but great when I got to my car. I finished my last half mile like I I always have since 1975 by singing "Staying Alive" uh uh uh uh Staying Aliiiiiiive"
 Staying Alive is not just a goofy disco song, it's a question.

"I Run the Risk....."

Several people commented on how much they liked my last blog on my friend Mike. I run the risk of blowing my good cred with this one but some things have been building up lately and I feel compelled to write. Take everything I say with a grain of salt, compare your views but remember no one has asked me me to make any policy decisions about anything since that last big one I made 2 years ago when I was asked to come up with the Homecoming theme and I said make the theme "Floats". You could have one class do the root beer float, one do the coke float, one do the 5 hour energy drink float and the freshmen do the Hindenburg Tribute float and literally have a gas filled blimp/balloon go down the track and then ignite. They said they would get back to me on my opinions but I was surprised when they never did!


First up: The death of San Diego football icon Junior Seau this past Wednesday.

Like the vast majority of San Diegans; I didn't see this suicide coming. None of the usual markers were in place like: divorce, failed business, poor health, arrest, scandal, or love gone wrong. Like Richard Corey in the famous Robinson poem of the same name, the suicide was/is inexplicable. I modify Robinson's poem this way, "we wished we were like him, and went on working for our bread, cursing the rest and Junior Seau woke up one morning and put a bullet in his chest"

What is bugging me is how his death is being referred to: " he passed away" Junior passed" "he became deceased", "he was lost", "we lost him". NO! Look if you die in your sleep I grant you the proper thing to say is..."he passed away".  If a person is lost at sea, it's appropriate to say, "we lost him". But when you kill yourself, you didn't pass away, you weren't lost! You chose to kill yourself plain and simple. You took yourself away from us we didn't lose you. Junior chose to go; he didn't accidently pass away.

I know why people use those euphemisms but look that is a major part of the problem of suicide, we don't tell it like it is. We gloss over it, trying to take the sting out of it with nice phraseology. We need to say what suicide is if we are ever going to come to gripes with it. Junior Seau killed himself for reasons that apparently only he knew about.That's what he chose to do and there is nothing we can do about it except accept that is what he wanted to do, move on and remember him in a way that will undoubtedly be more generous in our hearts than he was with himself.

Second up:  What's with the uneven U.S. policy towards foreign despots?

Muammar Gaddafi had to go. He was harming his people, rattling his swords, and once again defying anyone to take him out. So with US approval and support Gaddafi went the way of Hussein. I have no problem with murderous thugs being kicked out especially if the people of that country are the ones doing most of the kicking. But why are we sitting back and letting Bashir Assad in Syria murder his own people every day? Recently, after the usual bogus photo op of the UN inspectors making sure the cease-fire was in place (ended) Assad opened up with a barrage of missiles killing scores more. Thousands upon thousands of Syrian people have been systematically slaughtered. In fact, he targeted for death anyone that spoke to the UN inspectors.  So why does this sick bastard still get to kill more people? When will  this horror story end?
Why is one terrible regime worse than the next one? Isn't murder, murder? We are doing everything we can to get the Chinese dissident and his family out of China and in fact he will hitch a ride on Hillary Clinton's plane back to the states. I am glad for him and his family, I have no problem with that. But while we jump through hoops over him we appear unfazed when African warlords go on the rampage and kill 50,000 men, women and kids.
I'm just wanting some explanation about why one country's misery is irrelevant to us and the next one we will do everything we can to intercede. What is our policy on murderous tyrants?  Do we even have a policy?


Third One:  GM will pay no taxes for the next 45 years.

Part of the Obama led effort to save GM from itself was to do two outrageous things. One was to take all the debts they had in their bankruptcy case (yes, they were in bankruptcy) and bring them forward  which had NEVER been done in the history of corporation bankruptcy proceedings, ever. Bring them forward means they are essentially pushed them into the future so you don't have to pay them now. Then part two was to exempt GM from paying taxes for the next 45 years so they could chip away at their future (from the past) debt. Plus, another provision is that no entity (government, or private companies) can sue to change the terms of this "restructured" deal between Obama's people and GM.

It's like this, say you Joe Average American run up a shit load of debts, way beyond your ability to pay them and so you file bankruptcy and then you are told well, we'll just take all your debts and make them due 30 years from now and in the meantime to help you get going again, we'll exempt you from paying income taxes for 30 years. That's great for you.....sucks for the rest of people who will now have to pick up the tab for the next 30 years. I am so close to saying, I won't pay anymore taxes, period because of mismanagement of funds. I'll pull a Henry David Thoreau. Let them throw me in jail, I'll redirect all my retirement checks to an off shore account (like the Wall Streeter's do) and put everything in Austin's name and screw them. My attorney will insist I get the same deal GM gets, or one of the other deals that the "special" people get.

Last One: Cinco de Mayo

This is a big day in California. BUT why??  Of course, May 5th  is not actually even the date of Mexico's Independence but nevertheless California still make a big deal of celebrating Mexico's Independence every cinco de mayo. Do we make a big deal out of Canadian Independence Day? Quick, which day is it? How about Bastille Day in France, Irish Independence Day, How about the Restoration in England 1660? Then there is Portugal, Spain, Brazil, and every other country in the world. NO it's Cinco de Mayo because we are made to think it's politically correct (and nice) thing to accept Mexico's heritage and important days..
We are expected to think about and accept the importance of this day.
Do people in Mexico celebrate American Independence day? Fireworks, American Flag, Kate Smith's recording of "God Bless America"?? Ya think?

My friend Debby in an effort to take some of the BS out of Cinco de Mayo asked a Latino teacher (we both had at the time) "what's the deal about Cinco de Mayo anyway, is it just a reason to get 2 for 1 Margarita's"? She was poking some fun and he recognized that by saying "look it's an important day to Mexicans but for you, 2 for 1 margaritas is as good a reason as any". We all had a good laugh over what he said. Look stop trying make us feel empathy for other country's that for the most part don't give a crap about ours.

"Mike" (read this one)

About 2 weeks ago my friend Mike Moldeven left his home in Sorrento Valley and was admitted to a Senior Care center called Silverado in Encinitas. His son Carmi and daughter in law Pauline made the decision to have him enter the facility because they felt  he had reached a point where he might fall down or not be able to get help if they weren't there. I don't think he wanted to go, actually if I know Mike as much as I think I do, I know he didn't want to go. I will continue to see Mike but now at Silverado.

I want to tell you about Mike. First of all he is 96 and will be 97 in July. His handshake is still as strong as mine. His eyesight is great but  his hearing isn't so good. Mike has a great sense of humor. I knew we would get along when I first met him about 4 years ago. I was talking with him at a dinner party and sensed he had t a New York accent. I asked him if he was from New York and he said that he had been born and raised in Brooklyn. Although he hadn't lived in New York  in a lot of years, he still had that distinct New York accent so I said, "Do you miss New York"? and he leaned in toward me and he said, "I miss the action"! I knew we were going to be friends.

What a life, Mike has had. Ran the streets of Manhattan in the 1920's, looking for odd jobs to help bring in money to a house that had very little. Learned about life, the good, bad, and ugly before he was 13. He used to hold back a nickle now and then and go to the movies or a quarter and go to the opera. When he was 20 he and his best friend left New York looking for work. This was the depression 30's and jobs were few and far between and they ended up doing WPA road construction in Ohio. Then one day he was in a post office and he saw a poster recruiting men for the military. He said he enlisted just to have a place to eat and sleep on a regular basis. He lost contact at this time with his best friend, and though they never really got back together they did write to each other for several years. He got a job as a parachute rigger for the Air Force in the late thirties and was rigging parachutes for practice runs at an Air Force base in Ohio. He has hilarious stories of near misses, of air men being dragged on the ground because of wind and their inability to wrap up their chute. On one occasion they ran after a guy that was being dragged by the wind,  for over half a mile.

Then Pearl Harbor. He actually didn't know what was going on that Sunday because he'd been out and hadn't heard a radio til he came back to the base later in the day. He never followed politics much in those days so it all came as a surprise to him but 2 days later the division commander asked for volunteers to go to Pearl and he stepped forward. 5 days after the raid at Pearl he was in Pearl rigging chutes and teaching others how to rig chutes. He did this job all through out WWII. It was an exacting job and he learned to be precise and follow procedures step by step. There was no margin for sloppiness and by the way you couldn't be a drinker and party much because the next morning some airman's life was in your hands when you were rigging his chute.

When the war was over he stayed in the Air Force but shifted to a more management type job that eventually landed him a job with the Department of Defense as a quality control manager and inspector. He wrote the manuals on how things should be done. When the cold war jacked up in early 1950's he was employed on a secretive mission to set up air bases all through out the middle east. He still won't tell me all that was done, but essentially it came down to this: if we needed to fly nuclear weapons to Russia the planes would have to refuel and they needed air bases to do that. Also, if the planes ever got hit with ground or air fire they might need an emergency place to land. He, and his mates, were essentially preparing for WW III.  He and his wife and 2 kids lived in Casablanca for several years. On one occasion he was given a top secret mission where plans in an attache case were handcuffed to his wrist. He was to take them to take to the high command in Germany. He had a few hours in Paris before his train to Germany left, so he went to the Louvre and walked around the place. Imagine a man walking around looking at paintings like the Mona Lisa all the while carrying a loaded 45 automatic in his belt. He could have capped Mona if he had wanted to.

Back to the States and Sacramento in the 1960's and 70's. He was asked to put together a suicide prevention program for the military and so in fact he was one of the most instrumental creators of the suicide-prevention program the U.S. Military still uses today. I have seen all of the awards, certificates, honors, and photos of him shaking 5 star generals hands and so forth. When he retired in the late 70's he continued to write articles for suicide prevention programs for local communities, the Government and websites around the world.

Mike had long been a technical writer, doing up extensive manuals for the Government but now he shifted gears in his retirement and became a creative writer. He wrote a science fiction novel that is still for sale on Amazon.com. He wrote a collection of short stories he called "Grandpa Stories". The kind of stories a grandpa would read to their grand kids. They are also archived. I've read  his works and I can tell you he is a good writer.

Mike then started going to Elementary schools as the guest speaker,  reading stories and telling stories to kids. As he entered his eighties, sadly he lost his wife Gail and then shortly after that he moved in with his son and daughter-in-law in Sorrento Valley. When he turned 90, he turned his talents to writing his own blog site. Articles, links and many interesting entries. He continued writing up until just the last 6 months. Imagine that, writing a cogent, interesting blog when you are 96!! He wrote at least 5  blogs for my site.

Mike traveled the world, was around for some of the most iconic moments of the 20th century, designed programs that are still in place, did secret service work, is a published author, was married to his wife for 50+ years and raised 2 kids. How much life a person can get out of one life.

I met Mike at a dinner party several years ago. There were about 7 people at this party all in my age group and then Mike who sat at the end of the table to my right. As dinner went on and people began to get "wined up" NO ONE pay any attention to Mike. No one talked to him, no one asked him a question, he was invisible to others at the table but not to me. One two occasions, people got up to go back into the kitchen for food or drink and they both asked all of us at the table if we wanted or needed anything all of us except Mike. He was totally ignored.  Mike might as well have gotten a plate to go and sat in the car.

I was really bugged about this and I decided  that while others gabbed in the kitchen, I would talk to Mike.  I went into the living room with Mike and we began to talk. He was so interesting, he knows philosophy, art, writers, religion and so forth. I said, "Mike let's go get some breakfast someday and talk about the world". He said, "I would be delighted too" and we did many times. He always shakes my hand vigorously and says, "how are you my friend"? I always say, "if I was half as good as you are right now, I'd be better". We laugh, he shrugs his shoulders and says, "well, whataya going to do"?

His life seems to be winding down, father time is after all undefeated, but I will be Mike's friend to the last as I would hope that someone, someday might be my friend when I get older. We too easily shunt people aside and tend to think they don't have anymore to contribute. We assume they are done before they are done. As a culture we don't show much respect to older folks and it's totally Darwinianly Stupid" to do that because the very people that dismiss, as useless, and older person will one day be older and not want to be dismissed. Doesn't take much, a simple how are things going would do. My friend Neville almost always will talk to an older person and really listen to what they say, strangers that he gives some time of his day to.

I love Mike and I am happy I got to know him. If I have 3/4 of what he had at age 95 I will consider myself lucky.  He inspires me to not think old, to not give in to the perception of being old. We all have to give ground when we get older but we don't have to give up. Besides, like Mike said so well, I (would) "miss the action".