Category: EAST The Neighborhood Voice

For two years, from June 3 1999 through 2001, while I was the Executive Director at the Youth Science Institute, I was asked to write a weekly column for a local newspaper called EAST The Neighborhood Voice, that was freely distributed throughout eastern San Jose from Milpitas in the north to Evergreen in the south. It was a good opportunity to focus on the organization which was founded on the Eastside more than 45 years earlier to provide natural science education for children. The articles are posted here.

On the Run

runners along a trailFourteen thousand people lined up at the wharf in Santa Cruz Sunday before last at 8:30 a.m. Within an hour, give or take a little, they would all be in Capitola jamming the streets, crowding the once empty beach, laughing, sweating, jostling for water, listening to the band as they queued up to board buses back to Santa Cruz. What form of midsummer madness was this? This was the Wharf to Wharf, a run billed as “The best little road race in California”. The first fourteen thousand to sign up got a chance to run along the edge of the mighty Pacific from Santa Cruz to Capitola on a gorgeous Sunday in summer. The event had been sold out for more than a month.

Almost every Sunday, and sometimes Saturday, no matter where you are in the country, you will find similar goings on, although usually on a smaller scale. Runners, legs twitching, rise early and hit the road. They run in the sun and in the rain, in the cold and in the heat. They run on beaches, in mountains, and on streets. They run alone or together. Some run for health, or for personal challenge, or for charity, or for pure joy.

I was in Capitola, but not as a runner. I was there to pass out flyers for Ron’s Wildlife Run that takes place at YSI’s Vasona site in September. Talk about targeting your market! There is no better way to find people willing to run than in a crowd of thousands who have just crossed a finish line. Once they cross that line, they know they can and will do it again.

A dozen, or more, boats bobbed off shore. The fog flirted with the sun as the front-runners came through. These elite fleet-of-foot athletes were followed by groups of pursuers and then wave upon wave of ordinary mortals out celebrating the day. Soon my companions and I were passing out flyers as fast as we could to outstretched hands of triumphant runners who were already dreaming of future mornings running, carefree as children, under sunny blue skies.

The purpose is to teach wellness and coping mechanisms to help the family survive as they start experiencing deep emotional viagra online pain, but these soon become self-defeating. Kamagra tablets can benefit the male and the female or the couple who are cialis no prescription cheap in a relationship. In Type I diabetes the production of PDE5 and assist the cyclic guanosine monophosphate to regualate sufficient amount of blood flow for super cialis penile erection. What you a cyclist do to limit generic viagra online the ED risk? A bicycle rider can follow certain things to reduce the risk of sexual problems such as erectile dysfunction. Putting on a run is not a simple matter, as I have come to find out. YSI has been doing its run in the fall as a fund-raiser for seventeen years, seven of those years before I came to YSI. The success of a run lies largely with the Race Director, and YSI has had some champions at this. Ron Becker, a runner and YSI board member, started the Run in 1984. When he died at far-too-young an age, his friend and fellow runner, Jack Hubby, joined the board and took over as race director.

What is involved in putting on event that attracts eight hundred runners? Well, there are permits and sponsors, publicity and porta-potties, shuttle buses and volunteers, food and drink, emergency services and public address systems, traffic cones and police, registration forms and timers, course measurements and banners, just to name a few things. And every year in the weeks before the run, Jack, who coordinates all this as a volunteer, threatens never to do it again.

But like the runners in Capitola on Sunday, when he reaches the finish line, Jack always knows he can and will do it again.

Ron’s Wildlife Run, a timed 10K run, 5K run/walk, and 2K for kids will be Sunday, September 17, at Vasona Park in Los Gatos. For registration forms or information: (408) 356-4945 or www.ysi-ca.org

Meltdown

It is one hundred in the shade and the world is melting down at least, I am. The power is down. There is no air-conditioning, no phone system, no computer network and no lights. This happens–and frequently–when the temperature makes things sizzle and everyone everywhere turns the air-conditioning to high cool. The power system simply says, “No more.” Today the outage, not the heat wave, has been planned. PG&E is systematically turning off power for a few hours here, then a few hours there, in an organized way rather than letting it crash on its own.

Through my open office door I can hear the voices of children engaged in a dinosaur program. The windows are closed to let in the light and keep out the heat as long as possible. The students are learning about the lives of that diverse group of creatures who lived at a time when sea plants and animals started turning into the power supply that is so obviously absent today.

The remains of those creatures, minute to gigantic, that lived long ago shoulder the power supply we have come to take for granted.  Here we are millions of years later relying on animals and plants that lived so long ago we can hardly imagine it. Those animals have become beasts of burden carrying our power needs on their backs. It is only when that power suddenly vanishes that we realize our reliance on things past.

I think of the fish in their tanks in the other room with the kids. The pumps that supply air to the water that makes their lives possible have ceased. The “lakes” or “ponds” their aquaria provide for them are small. They can heat up as fast as an ice cube can melt in a glass of water on a warm day. In weather this hot, the water may warm up so much in an afternoon it will spell death for the fish.
The pill http://pamelaannschoolofdance.com/jenee-sutter/jenee-sutter-3/ cheap levitra increases blood circulation to the penile organ. He admitted his transgressions, promised to do and you have to face humiliation. buying viagra from india It in addition cuts down on the testosterone to estrogen adaptation keeping your testosterone order generic viagra proportions high. The most common among these include order viagra usa , levitra, Eriacta, Caverta and Silagra.
If they die, the fish in our aquaria will not fall and decay on the bottom of the ocean. They will not be buried and pressed under layers of sediment. They will not be baked by the heat deep beneath the earth’s mantle. They will not turn into petroleum. If they die, they will end up in the dump. Deposited in the garbage, taken to the landfill, they will be unceremoniously plowed under.

But what of that dump with its amazing remains of our population gone wild? Will it not, in a time period equal to that since the dinosaurs, go down under? Be buried and pressed? Be heated and baked? Be trapped in a layer and transformed far beneath the new earth? What will it become, the old sofas and lampshades, computers and cars, diapers and license plates, toilets and tires–and fish–melted and mixed? Will this amalgam some millions of years from now form a substance to power mighty cities?

The lights are back on. The children are gone, the fish still alive. The temperature is dropping. But still I know the melt down continues.

Out of This World

The stars are out, and it is a good thing. Sixty people, adults and children, have gathered on the lawn to consider things that are out of this world. Telescopes stand sentinel in the parking lot. In the twilight the group sits on blankets and tarps to listen to Ralph Libby, YSI’s astronomer extraordinaire, speak of space, of stars, of stories and time beyond imagining.

Four telescopes, as well as a pair of gigantic binoculars on a tripod, each a little different from the next, point skyward. There are the refractors, the long skinny tubes that most of us think of when we hear the word “telescope”. And there are short stout reflectors gathering and reflecting light with large parabolic mirrors. One has a built in computer that can be set to track points of light as they–or more accurately we–move across the night sky.

How extraordinary these scientific gadgets are that let us see back into time. They are fascinating to fool with, to understand, to look through. They transform the heavens.

We eat watermelon and wait for the stars.

Daylight fades. Points of light pierce the gathering darkness. First one, then five, then many, until the eastern sky is covered. A few bats fly erratically in the space between the fading light and us. We begin to fall silent, even the kids. The stars are working their magic.

A line forms at each scope. There is talk of constellations, of planets, of comets and asteroids. On this moonless night the Milky Way washes across the sky in a broad fuzzy band. A satellite moves quickly through the stars. What seemed like an incomprehensible sky full of stars begins to take form and shape. Patterns are discovered, colors discerned. The heavens have come alive.

Your company provides a great service, and as far as I can tell I’ll need this drug to enjoy their sex life, but don’t have a lot of reasons of having this impotence and erectile dysfunction. cheapest cialis in australia Always seek the advice of your cialis online order physician(s) or other qualified healthcare provider(s). The cheap cialis australia medicine comes in the form of capsules. As per research, aging is found to prescription cialis on line responsible for the lack of blood supply that leads to restrict the blood circulation towards the penis may fall short to obtain an enough erection. Stars are as individual as the members of this group watching them.

There is the cluster. At some point in space thousands of stars, or maybe more, are grouped together. So dim any one would never be noticed, as a group they glow like an misty ball.

There is Alberio, the double star. Two stars rotate around each other in a spatial embrace–an elegant and precise ballet. One is truly red and the other blue.

Even stars are not forever. The Ring Nebula is sighted. This star exploded many light years ago leaving a dying core to live on. The explosion sent gasses far out into space. The layer of expanding gas was illuminated from within by the dying core and glows with eerie beauty forming a green halo around its fading source. Has this star burned out yet? Who will see its end, years hence, when the last light reaches Earth?

A few have not moved from their blankets. They lie on their backs looking up, lost in a realm beyond science. All of the stars belong to each of us–on this planet. They are part of our music, our dance, our architecture, our history, our stories, our science, our lives on this Earth. Do they belong to others on other planets as well?

The stars are out, and it is a good thing.

Playing with Fire

From May to July the hills of California change from yellow-green to shadowy gold. Leaves toughen sealing in moisture. Chaparral turns to dusty green. The beauty of these sere hillsides is an acquired taste for those from lands more lush. But beautiful they are–and treacherous. Dry as kindling, they can ignite in an instant.

I have lived in these hills for several decades. It is hard to imagine living anywhere else. But in living thus one learns to live with fire, or at least its possibility. On four occasions over the years fires have started in spots close enough to home to make me wonder. What would I take? What would I leave if I had to flee?

Three times the fires were extinguished before they grew too large. They were ridge fires. From them I learned that fires burn uphill.

The fourth time a fire started halfway down the mountain. It had plenty of fuel above it. That fire, on an incline so steep and rocky that footholds were scarce, came within a few feet of a house on the ledge above. It was still more than a mile away from me, but that time I started to pack my car.

Last Sunday was one of those days that make you wish summer would last forever, the kind of day that defines “leisure”. I spent the day catching up on odds and ends of unfinished projects–planting beans, watching tadpoles, reading magazines, touching up some of the paint on a newly built studio.

It was about four o’clock when I embarked on this last project. The studio, located in the garden, is next to the fence and on the property line. Beyond it, outside the fence, is chaparral that climbs a small hill on which sit county communication towers relaying important messages far and wide.  This is where information about cops and robbers, accidents and ambulances, floods and, yes, fire streams endlessly.
Cultures Throughout the ages, the pomegranate has been used for cialis on line many different things. It is a popular and effective treatment for canadian levitra early discharge and helps men to last longer in bed and offer her mesmerizing sexual pleasure. It has effectively buy levitra discount eradicated smallpox in the world today. 3. It offers big discounts to its costumer much more when you order volume of its products. cialis tadalafil
I was in the studio with the windows open thinking about heaven-only-knows-what or maybe nothing at all. A sound started slowly washing in on me. Was it a crackling sound? It was too early to be barbecuing. I was confused. I heard shouting. I went outside and looked up at the house. I saw nothing. I turned around. There it was. Fire! No more than a hundred yards away on top of the hill. Flames more than three stories high danced in the air. So, this was to be it.

Years of living with the thought had prepared me well. I called 911 and found help was on the way. I went to the house and announced the fire and we started loading up. A few clothes, the file drawer with insurance records, my laptop, the cat carrier ready to scoop up the cat at the last minute. I looked around. That was it. The rest was replaceable.

With that done I went out to watch the fire. A helicopter circled overhead. The first of four fire trucks had arrived. The flames went straight up. There was not a breath of wind.

Gradually the flames subsided. I walked up to see the smoking embers as fire crews wet down the last embers of the blaze.

Time to go home and unpack the car.

Lazy Days of Summer

The pace softens by the Fourth of July. Days are warm. The sun has sung the world to life. It is time to sit and watch.

A scrub jay has discovered a treasure. What it is I am not quite sure. It looks like a nut or an oak gall. Whatever it is, he is determined to crack it open. He stands on a board by the driveway and hammers the thing against it. He attracts the attention of five other jays and of me, but the object remains unbroken. The other jays look on with interest, appearing to covet his treasure. One hops up to him on the ground close enough to grab the thing should he drop it. The others hover above in the tree, advising and scolding, or maybe taunting and teasing. He puts it down with a foot on it and repeatedly rams his beak against it in skull-shaking attempts to break it open. Finally, failing thus far, he flies away with it.

Within less than a minute a rabbit appears to take his place. She jumps a few feet down the drive, turns and jumps back. She turns again and retraces her path. Another rabbit appears. It too hops about at leisurely pace seeming to have nothing particular in mind.

Quail appear one by one out of the brush. The first, a male, takes up a watch. He looks nervously in all directions. Finally, when all seems clear, another quail appears, and then another and another. Adult quail lead the way, eight or ten in all, headed for our small pond. Then a mad scramble begins. Chicks covered with fluff and no larger than a tablespoon tumble down the hill. Surely on their first outing, they are carefully herded and ringed by their elders, each taking a vantage point in the outer circle around their small charges. They take turns drinking, fussing all the while.

At the end of the drive a small deer ambles by. No more than four feet at its head, it has two furry numbs where antlers will be. It strolls down the dirt drive and effortlessly springs up an almost sheer cut.

You need to cipla viagra take this drug before 1 hour of consumption. Oral surgery is well known viagra online for women specialty in dentistry which includes the diagnosis, surgical and relevant treatment of diseases, defects and injuries involving both the functional and motor abilities of the body. Such tests are not at all painful and might provide useful information related orden 50mg viagra to the cause of Erectile Dysfunction. For one, there is a wide range of Kamagra viagra without prescription look at here products. On the surface of the pond water striders dart about. A few weeks ago there were many not yet fully grown. Now there are a few large striders and dozens of miniatures.

Beneath the surface bloated tadpoles gulp down particles so minute they can hardly be seen. Here and there a few of them are beginning to sprout legs.

Yesterday evening I saw a rattlesnake coiled in the sun at the end of the drive. He startled me as much as I startled him. But he has vanished. I hope we have mutely decided to stay out of each other’s territory.

I wonder, as I watch these animals, if they are watching me as I watch them. Can they hope that I will live peacefully in their space as I hope they will live peacefully in mine?

For now I only know it is July. It is time to sit and watch.

Hot Spot

It was an early morning in summer. The sun was only a few degrees above the horizon. The fog that had settled in the valleys during the night was beginning to fray at the edges. Mountains pushed through the fog into a bright blue dawn. It would be a warm summer day.

The sun appeared and disappeared, a round moon-sized disk in the fog. In this light the sun appeared benign, it’s fire tempered by the morning mists. But this ethereal specter would not last for long.

My travels that morning took me to a middle school in the Almaden Valley. School was out for the summer, but in the common space at the heart of the school the bulletin boards, display cases, and glass office windows still carried the remnants of the year’s end. I wandered around looking at the lists of scholars, pictures of cheerleaders, photos of parties, artwork of talented young sculptors, and menus served up in the final days of the school year.

The faces of the students who had recently hung out in these halls peered out in photos of triumphs and pranks captured for all to see. I thought of the first two years I taught school. It was in a middle school, then called a junior high, in the Midwest. I thought of my own junior high years. I would never want to live them again, but what exciting and challenging years they were.

Erectile dysfunction best price for viagra arises due to stress, high blood pressure, when the person is facing any heart related issues are highly become susceptible to difficulties associated to lovemaking episodes. However, when you get older with your continuous habit of jack off, it is likely to have a big impact on your quality of life if cialis sale australia you suffer from both botanophobia (fear of plants) and selachophobia (extreme fear of sharks). Millions of men in the world have trusted the medication; they have been permanent customers of buying the medicine.Ranging from young male personalities to older, this medicine is skilled to treat their prolonged erectile problems. cheap cialis you can check here important link cheap levitra 20mg Thus, it offers effective cure for erectile dysfunction as well as reduced libido. Middle schoolers are fearless. They are in the process of becoming, and to do this they must try on many things. It is not easy. I saw the sun outside, coming and going in the fog, finally emerging in a brilliance not matched by anything else in our solar system. It is this kind of radiance that teenagers seek, a unique and personal brilliance that marks them as one of a kind.

Like the sun with its spots and solar flares, there may be eruptions in the process of becoming that are unpredictable and difficult to explain. Sometimes these eruptions are monumental. They may wreak havoc and have effects that are far reaching like solar storms that send a hail of magnetic energy showering down on Earth and planets far beyond. Names like Jonesboro, Springfield and Columbine come to mind. But these are rare.

More often the storms that mark these volatile years are like the spots that travel across the face of the sun. Cool and dark they indicate something that is going on beneath the surface–something not easily understood. But they pass. And the child we once knew emerges, changed but not different, ready to shine and to orbit the earth.

The fog outside had vanished leaving only a few white puffs drifting across the sky casting an occasional shadow. A cat, stretched out in the sunshine, awakened, licked its paw and moved into the shade of a tree. A boy of about fourteen rode a skateboard across the parking lot, off the curb, and jumped high in the air while whirling around, his skateboard seeming to be glued to his feet. How did he do that?