Tonight, we went to the weekly Sunday night classical music concert at LACMA. (Every Sunday night, one hour, and free!) Always a interesting and rewarding event. The line was longer than we have ever seen before, because it was a large orchestra from the Coburn School of Music, ages 13 thru 18, and there were a lot of parents and grandparents and siblings in the audience.
Reminded me of my aunt Norma, who took her daughter, my cousin Ada, and me often to the movies. Norma was childlike and had a lot of flaws and difficulties in her life, but she could also be fun to be with, at least for me (not sure how it was for Ada.)
Norma would take us 69th Street in Philadelphia. This was sort of on the boarder between the city, and the surrounding suburbs. It was where the subway ended, and the beginning for the suburban street cars. There was a lot of shopping there, and at least two big movie theaters.
When the three of us would get to the theatre, there would often be a long line, even during the day. So, Norma would approach some good soul who was near the front of the line, and ask them if they would purchase our tickets when they bought theirs. She always found someone who was willing to do it, and she would give them the money. They would buy the tickets, give our tickets to Norma, and in we would go, ahead of all the other people in the line.
Norma did not have many scruples. I thought it was very clever, but somewhat questionable. But I did not object.
After these movies, we would often go to a nearby ice cream shop for banana splits: vanilla, chocolate and strawberry ice cream, on a split banana, chocolate syrup, whipped cream, nuts and a maraschino cherry on top!!
Sunday, April 22, 2018
Saturday, March 24, 2018
Rain
This week, Los Angeles got our second substantial rainfall of the season (October thru March). I welcome it.
When I was a child, we lived four blocks from my grandparents' house, which was also just across the trolley tracks from my grade school, Oakmont Elementary. My dad was away in the navy during WWII, and I spent a lot of time at my grandparents, especially right after school. My cousin Ada (10 months older) was there, and we had a lot of fun times.
My grandparents' house had an enclosed front porch with a tin roof. Especially in the summer, when it rained, I loved the sound of the rain on that roof. We sat under the roof, safe and dry, and played Monopoly, Canasta, Jacks, PickUpSticks, and so forth.
The trolley tracks were built with rain gutters on both side. When it would rain hard, these would fill up with rushing water, and we would walk in them barefoot. This was about as close as we got to a swimming pool in our neighborhood.
At our house during the summer, when it was hot and humid, we would open all the doors and windows to let whatever breeze there was come thru. (No A/C in those days.) Often, when a storm came, it would start with gusty winds and the sky getting darker. The winds would rattle the screen doors and windows. Then the rain would come.
Upstairs there was a third bedroom, which was kind of used like a den. It had a radio sitting on the desk, that had stopped running some time ago. Still plugged in, still "turned on", though no sounds came out. One summer thunderstorm, after a close bolt of lightning, the radio magically began playing again!
I have always loved being out in the rain. Walking with an umbrella. Driving in the car with the "swish-swish" of the windshield wipers. Seeing the reflections of the lights in the street at night. Watching the water running down the side of the curb into the storm drains.
LA's rainy season is about done for another year.
When I was a child, we lived four blocks from my grandparents' house, which was also just across the trolley tracks from my grade school, Oakmont Elementary. My dad was away in the navy during WWII, and I spent a lot of time at my grandparents, especially right after school. My cousin Ada (10 months older) was there, and we had a lot of fun times.
My grandparents' house had an enclosed front porch with a tin roof. Especially in the summer, when it rained, I loved the sound of the rain on that roof. We sat under the roof, safe and dry, and played Monopoly, Canasta, Jacks, PickUpSticks, and so forth.
The trolley tracks were built with rain gutters on both side. When it would rain hard, these would fill up with rushing water, and we would walk in them barefoot. This was about as close as we got to a swimming pool in our neighborhood.
At our house during the summer, when it was hot and humid, we would open all the doors and windows to let whatever breeze there was come thru. (No A/C in those days.) Often, when a storm came, it would start with gusty winds and the sky getting darker. The winds would rattle the screen doors and windows. Then the rain would come.
Upstairs there was a third bedroom, which was kind of used like a den. It had a radio sitting on the desk, that had stopped running some time ago. Still plugged in, still "turned on", though no sounds came out. One summer thunderstorm, after a close bolt of lightning, the radio magically began playing again!
I have always loved being out in the rain. Walking with an umbrella. Driving in the car with the "swish-swish" of the windshield wipers. Seeing the reflections of the lights in the street at night. Watching the water running down the side of the curb into the storm drains.
LA's rainy season is about done for another year.
Sunday, March 4, 2018
Why Buddhism Is True
Just finished reading "Why Buddhism Is True" by Robert Wright. Suggested to me by cousin Bruce Linton, and I am so glad he did. This book investigates the workings of our human minds from a standpoint of evolutionary psychology, and illuminates how many of our basic tendencies of mind, evolved over millennia, are often counterproductive in our current cultural situation (no longer hunter-gatherers or agriculturists living in small groups). He argues that some of the basic tenets of Buddhism correlate to some findings of modern science, and that these insights can be used, through meditative practices, towards more acceptance of others, gratefulness, loving-kindness, and happiness in our lives. Not just theory, but many anecdotes from the author's personal experiences, and the writings and thinking of others in the field. Several times I found myself realizing: "I never thought about it this way before. He's right!" (No pun intended). The book is both scientific and philosophical, without being theological. If you are meditating, or want to consider it for your future, I strongly recommend this book.
Wednesday, February 14, 2018
Valentines Day
It was 1999. I was working in IT at Rocketdyne in Canoga Park, in Bldg 105, which had been recently renovated on the inside. We were each in cubicles with partitions about 5-1/2 feet high. You could easily speak to the person next door over the partition (and also hear most of their phone conversations if you really wanted to.) To one side of me was Mark; to the other side Cinde. Each was married and 40-something.
Mid-morning, I heard Mark groan. I asked what was wrong. He said he just remembered it was Valentines Day, and he had not gotten his wife a gift. And he did not have any good ideas.
Mid-morning, I heard Mark groan. I asked what was wrong. He said he just remembered it was Valentines Day, and he had not gotten his wife a gift. And he did not have any good ideas.
I said he better run out and get something. Mark asked me if I had any suggestions.
Cinde's voice rang out loud and clear: "Jewelry is always good"!
Cinde's voice rang out loud and clear: "Jewelry is always good"!
Monday, January 15, 2018
Meditation and Growing Old and Gratitude
I started meditating about four years ago. My friend Blanche Moss told me about a free 1/2-hour weekly class at the Hammer Museum in Westwood. It's put on by the Mindful Awareness Research Center, part of the med school at UCLA. Diana Winston leads most of the classes, but there are others as well. Besides the class, I meditate at home, about three or four days a week, 1/2 hour at a time.
It's difficult to put into words the impact that this practice has had on me, difficult to describe. But I believe it is real. Of course, some or all of these changes might have taken place over these years without the meditation, but I doubt that.
When I was working, it would have been impossible for me to try to set aside a half-hour on any day to meditate. I was just too busy with what I thought were the things in my life that I either had to do, or wanted to do. First was work, at least eight hours per day, plus the commute. Then all the other stuff of life as I lived it. So, I feel grateful that I have lived into my retirement (almost eight years now) and found this practice, and been able to stay with it as much as I have.
In addition to just paying attention to the present moment (easier said than done), the leaders at the Hammer often emphasize other "qualities of the heart"; one is gratitude. This has been very helpful for me. I have witnessed other people expressing gratitude in their life and have felt envy of them, because I rarely felt it.
Now I frequently ask for it in my meditations and I sense it more than ever before (not a very high bar, in my case). Gratitude for my life, my body, living as long as I have, my senses, my mind, Nadine, our home, our cat Ketsl (now gone), our children and grandchildren, our brothers and their families, cousins, friends (several gone now), my teachers, and the wonder and beauty of the world that we (temporarily) get to inhabit. Also, gratitude for the many advantages I have been given in life, and the way that turns in my life, that seemed bad at the time, have worked out for the best. And I feel gratitude that I have found gratitude.
As I think of this, I feel sorrow for friends whose lives have been cut short much too early in their lives. Especially Peter Hawes, a Dartmouth classmate who I did not know well until later in Pasadena, and Tom Smith, a neighbor and friend in Newport Beach. I imagine that they felt much joy in their lives, but I wish it could have lasted longer for them. But I am grateful for having known them.
It's difficult to put into words the impact that this practice has had on me, difficult to describe. But I believe it is real. Of course, some or all of these changes might have taken place over these years without the meditation, but I doubt that.
When I was working, it would have been impossible for me to try to set aside a half-hour on any day to meditate. I was just too busy with what I thought were the things in my life that I either had to do, or wanted to do. First was work, at least eight hours per day, plus the commute. Then all the other stuff of life as I lived it. So, I feel grateful that I have lived into my retirement (almost eight years now) and found this practice, and been able to stay with it as much as I have.
In addition to just paying attention to the present moment (easier said than done), the leaders at the Hammer often emphasize other "qualities of the heart"; one is gratitude. This has been very helpful for me. I have witnessed other people expressing gratitude in their life and have felt envy of them, because I rarely felt it.
Now I frequently ask for it in my meditations and I sense it more than ever before (not a very high bar, in my case). Gratitude for my life, my body, living as long as I have, my senses, my mind, Nadine, our home, our cat Ketsl (now gone), our children and grandchildren, our brothers and their families, cousins, friends (several gone now), my teachers, and the wonder and beauty of the world that we (temporarily) get to inhabit. Also, gratitude for the many advantages I have been given in life, and the way that turns in my life, that seemed bad at the time, have worked out for the best. And I feel gratitude that I have found gratitude.
As I think of this, I feel sorrow for friends whose lives have been cut short much too early in their lives. Especially Peter Hawes, a Dartmouth classmate who I did not know well until later in Pasadena, and Tom Smith, a neighbor and friend in Newport Beach. I imagine that they felt much joy in their lives, but I wish it could have lasted longer for them. But I am grateful for having known them.
Monday, December 4, 2017
Pearl Harbor Day
I was almost six years old, my father had just turned 32. It was mid-afternoon on an early December day, 1941, cool but no snow yet. An annual fall practice in those days, I was helping my father to rake up the last of the leaves that had fallen for two months into our yard from our neighbor's huge maple trees. We raked the leaves, all dead and brown now, towards the street curb, then over the curb and into the street, where they lay in a huge pile. Then he set them on fire, part of the fall ritual; everyone did it, there were a lot of trees on our block in Oakmont (now renamed Havertown), a Philadelphia suburb.
The smell of those burning dead leaves is something I will never forget, though I have not sensed it for at least fifty years now. An earthy smell. (Coincidently, somewhat like the air in LA today with the brush fires northwest of us.)
A neighbor ran out of his house and shouted something about "being attacked by the Japanese". I am sure we must have gone into the house and turned on the radio (no TV yet) to get the news. It could have been this broadcast by one Robert Eisenbach on NBC. (His daughter, Barbara Heitz, a distant relative of Nadine, lives in Los Angeles.)
The next day, FDR went to a rousing ovation by the Congress and declared war on the Empire of Japan.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lK8gYGg0dkE
My father's father, Felix Colla, died on New Years Day, 1942. A few months later, my father finally got one doctor to pass him on a physical so he could enlist as a Navy officer. (Apparently he had flat feet, and several doctors had said "no".) He was gone most of the time for the next 3+ years.
The smell of those burning dead leaves is something I will never forget, though I have not sensed it for at least fifty years now. An earthy smell. (Coincidently, somewhat like the air in LA today with the brush fires northwest of us.)
A neighbor ran out of his house and shouted something about "being attacked by the Japanese". I am sure we must have gone into the house and turned on the radio (no TV yet) to get the news. It could have been this broadcast by one Robert Eisenbach on NBC. (His daughter, Barbara Heitz, a distant relative of Nadine, lives in Los Angeles.)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lK8gYGg0dkE
My father's father, Felix Colla, died on New Years Day, 1942. A few months later, my father finally got one doctor to pass him on a physical so he could enlist as a Navy officer. (Apparently he had flat feet, and several doctors had said "no".) He was gone most of the time for the next 3+ years.
Wednesday, November 15, 2017
Book Review: "Fire and Ashes"
Micheal Ignatieff wrote "Fire and Ashes, Success and Failure in Politics". It's a short book, 183 smallish pages.
Ignatieff's great-grandfather was an ambassador and later Minister of Interior in Czarist Russian. His grandfather rose to be the Minister of Education under the last Czar, Nicholas II. They left Russia at the time of the 1917 revolution, and ended up in Canada. His father worked for the Canadian government office in London during WWII, and after the war, in the Foreign Service. One can not help but think that this family history of public service and political background had a great influence on Ignatieff. He says that it was in his blood. As a young man, he was an admirer of both Jack Kennedy and Pierre Trudeau. He went to graduate school at Harvard, was a fellow there, and later joined the faculty in political science. But he never became a American citizen.
In 2004, he was asked by some members of the Liberal Party in Canada to return home and run for a seat in the Parliament, as a prelude to becoming that party's leader. He decided to do so. Much like Obama, his political star rose as a result of an electrifying speech at a Liberal Party convention. In 2008, he became Liberal party leader.
But his ex-pat background came to be a significant political liability later; he was pounded for it by the Conservatives. And in 2011, after losing his seat in Parliament in a Conservative landslide, he left Canadian politics for good. He was only the third leader of the Liberal Party in its entire history to not serve as Prime Minister of Canada. He is now on the faculty at both Harvard and the University of Toronto.
I found this book full of insights and meditations on what it takes to succeed in politics, and what can (and did) go wrong. The Canadian political system is different in many ways from the US system, but there are also many similarities. Ignatieff makes interesting observations about both Bill Clinton and Barack Obama. He also offers a look into what happens internally to a person who steps into the political arena, how friends become adversaries, and how compromises are made...or not made. I recommend this book as an interesting and personal look inside the life of one contemporary thoughtful politician in a vibrant democracy, the one geographically closest to us Americans.
Ignatieff's great-grandfather was an ambassador and later Minister of Interior in Czarist Russian. His grandfather rose to be the Minister of Education under the last Czar, Nicholas II. They left Russia at the time of the 1917 revolution, and ended up in Canada. His father worked for the Canadian government office in London during WWII, and after the war, in the Foreign Service. One can not help but think that this family history of public service and political background had a great influence on Ignatieff. He says that it was in his blood. As a young man, he was an admirer of both Jack Kennedy and Pierre Trudeau. He went to graduate school at Harvard, was a fellow there, and later joined the faculty in political science. But he never became a American citizen.
In 2004, he was asked by some members of the Liberal Party in Canada to return home and run for a seat in the Parliament, as a prelude to becoming that party's leader. He decided to do so. Much like Obama, his political star rose as a result of an electrifying speech at a Liberal Party convention. In 2008, he became Liberal party leader.
But his ex-pat background came to be a significant political liability later; he was pounded for it by the Conservatives. And in 2011, after losing his seat in Parliament in a Conservative landslide, he left Canadian politics for good. He was only the third leader of the Liberal Party in its entire history to not serve as Prime Minister of Canada. He is now on the faculty at both Harvard and the University of Toronto.
I found this book full of insights and meditations on what it takes to succeed in politics, and what can (and did) go wrong. The Canadian political system is different in many ways from the US system, but there are also many similarities. Ignatieff makes interesting observations about both Bill Clinton and Barack Obama. He also offers a look into what happens internally to a person who steps into the political arena, how friends become adversaries, and how compromises are made...or not made. I recommend this book as an interesting and personal look inside the life of one contemporary thoughtful politician in a vibrant democracy, the one geographically closest to us Americans.
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