Ventura

It seems that the only times I take the time to post something new is when I'm talking about a recent trip or event.  I'll say it again, I need to get better.  Better at time management, better at writing more regularly, just plain better at life.

That being said, we spent the weekend on the coast in Ventura, CA.  Ventura is about an hour up the Pacific coast from Malibu, about an hour across the San Fernando Valley from Los Angeles.  Close enough to get to anything you want while being far enough away to be pleasant.

We recently, in the past few years, began returning to Ventura for weekend getaways.  I say returning because we first met in Ventura more than 33 years ago, we were married there and our oldest daughter was born in Ojai, about 30 minutes north of Ventura.  We have some history there and we like to visit, get reacquainted with the area, explore and just enjoy the beautiful beach and moderate weather.

When I told a friend last week that we were going to Ventura he asked if we were flying or driving.  Logical question.  We drove.  You can fly into the Ventura County airport on regional shuttle flights but last time I checked you could not get one direct from Sacramento.  That means you fly into LAX, or some other major airport, and then catch a shuttle flight on a much smaller airplane.  With airport security and everything else it takes almost as much time as driving, and those shuttle flights are not cheap.  So, we drove.

We were on the road from Sacramento by 12:30PM,   It's about a 6 hour drive down interstate 5 to the northern edge of Los Angeles, then 45 minutes, more or less, through the foothills to Ventura and the coast.

It seems that each trip we have taken lately we have had some different experiences.  This trip was no exception.

We had lunch in Stockton, just an hour after we left Sacramento.  We didn't need gas, just a quick lunch and back on the road.

A few hours later we stopped at Copus Road for gas and a bathroom break.  As I took care of the gas my wife found the ladies room.  We met back at the car where my wife was sitting quietly waiting for me.  I asked if everything was okay and her response was we needed to get on the road.  As we pulled back onto the freeway I asked what was going on.  I missed the excitement by using the men's room.  My wife said there were 3 truck stop hookers cleaning up, getting ready for there next customer in the ladies room.  Before i could ask if she was sure she told me she was sure, there was no mistaking these women and there occupation.

We drove on to Ventura and stopped for dinner as soon as we got to the city.

After dinner we drove down Main Street, the oldest part of the city which includes the original Mission.  The last few times we've been to Ventura we have found the downtown to be reinvigorated.  After dark lights strung between the palm trees lining Main Street are lit up giving the street a festive atmosphere.  Couples are walking up and down the street between those stores that are open and bars and restaurants.  It is very inviting and on this trip we found a parking space and walked a few blocks window shopping and enjoying the cool evening air.

Finally we drove to our hotel.  For the second time we chose the Crown Plaza on the beach at Ventura.  Last year when we stayed there we were subjected to the Thousand Oaks High School Winter Ball on Saturday night.  When we checked in we asked about functions at the hotel for the weekend.  We were informed that Saturday night the hotel was hosting a ball, party, for two squadrons of Navy aviators (pilots).  No wonder the reservation was nonrefundable.

With all of that in mind we checked in and found our room on the fourth floor, only after being pushed aside and forced to share the elevator with a deliveryman and his handtruck.  We opened the door to our room to find the carpet and furnishing have not been replaced since the hotel opened, as a Holiday Inn, in the late 1970's.  My wife opened,and quickly closed, the sliding glass door that overlooks the parking garage next door and to a lesser extent the pier and beach.

The room was stuffy so I turned on the air conditioner, I attempted to turn on the air conditioner.  After a call to the front desk and a visit from the maintenance man the air conditioner was working and we unpacked, showered and went to bed.

Saturday morning we were awakened by a barking dog.  I checked and the window was closed, it was a dog in the hotel.  As w left the hotel for the day we asked about the dog at the front desk.  We were informed that we were on the dog floor.  Now we like dogs, we have a dog, we left ours at home and we did not expect to be dealing with other dogs in our hotel.  Something we would have liked to know before we checked in.

Throughout the day we watched the fog come in and go out.  When we got up in the morning the sun was out and we walked along the beach.  Halfway through our walk the fog came in and the sun was hidden.  Later in the day we rode bikes along the boardwalk and bike trail along the beach.  Again the fog came in and by the time we returned to the hotel room we could barely see a few feet in front of us.

After dinner on Main street, where the fog did not reach, we returned to the hotel to find the fog had cleared and we walked on the pier to watch a beautiful sunset.

One of the reasons for our trip to Ventura was the Flea Market and the Fairgrounds just down the street from our hotel.  Last year it was all but rained out, this year the weather was perfect.

The Flea Market opens at 6 AM so we went to bed early Saturday night.  We were glad to be on the 4th floor, well away from the party on the 12th floor and we didn't hear it.   But, at 12:15 AM we were awakened by some of the pilots returning to their rooms on our floor.  True to their reputation the Navy pilots were drunk and loud as they stood in the hallway near our room and argued about something.  We couldn't understand them but they woke up everybody on the floor.  After about 15 minutes someone convinced them to return to their rooms and it finally quieted down.  Fortunately we got back to sleep fairly quickly.

Sunday morning we woke up, the sky was clear and the sun was up by 6:30.  It was a good day.  Both the Flea Market and the drive home to Sacramento were uneventful.

Before we left the hotel I had to stop at the front desk both to check out and to  let them know that the staff had been wonderful but we will not be returning to that particular hotel.

We enjoyed Ventura, it was part walk down memory lane, part beach getaway.   We will be back!

Ziplining, The Aborted Adventure

Last year my wife and I vacationed in Hawaii for a week.  Before we went my wife said she wanted to try ziplining.  I'm usually up for anything so I searched and booked a zipline tour, nine ziplines with lunch and a swimming hole.

My wife has a fear of heights.  Not just a little fear but a petrifying, "I can't look" fear.  We arrived for the zipline tour, on a working cattle ranch, rolling hills and ziplines strung above and through the treetops.  After we climbed the stairs to the platform of the first zipline my wife asked the guide if they ever had someone try the first zipline and then call it quits.  The guide, a woman about my wife's age responded, "honey, we have people walk up here, look at the wire and turn around and walk back to the office!"  My wife's response was, "I'm afraid but I'm going to try it."  The level of enthusiasm was underwhelming to say the least.

We, both my wife and I, completed all nine ziplines,  walked across a suspension bridge and swam in a swimming hole.  During the lunch break we talked with the guides who informed us they knew of at least one reputable zipline tour near us in northern California.

By the time we got home my wife had talked me into finding a zipline tour near us.  We found one at Mr. Hermon, in the redwoods just inland from Santa Cruz.

Later last summer we had a camping trip planned with our grandchildren to Santa Cruz.  At my wife's insistence I contacted the zipline company at Mt. Hermon.  I found out that I was above their weight limit, and not by just a few pounds.  I also found out that our grandson, who was 7, was both to young and to small.  So, I booked the zipline tour for my wife and our 2 granddaughters who both met all the qualifications.

The day of the zipline tour arrived and we all drove from our campsite to Mt. Hermon.  After checking in and getting their gear my grandson and I followed my wife and granddaughters across the street to the beginning of the zipline tour.  Unlike Hawaii, this was not a tour through and over the treetops, this was a tour from platforms built and attached to the redwoods, the majority of them 100 feet, or more, off the ground and under the tree's canopy.

My grandson and I watched as my wife and granddaughters received instruction and did a practice run on a very short sipline about a foot off the ground.  We could see them walk across a suspension bridge out to the first platform and then watched anxiously, waiting to see if anyone would chicken out, as they took off, suspended in air and traveling very fast to the next platform.  The girls both said they were fine so we left and ran some errands and explored some of the other things available like a climbing wall and "cope" course.

At the end of the day when we picked up my wife and granddaughters they all talked about how fun it was.  They talked about it so much that my grandson insisted that he wanted to do it as soon as he was big enough.

This year we planned a camping trip to a campsite almost across the street from Mt. Hermon.  We chose this campground for 2 reasons.  The first was to be near the zipline tour, the second was to explore a different campground.

I made a reservation for the zipline tour.  My daughter and son-in-law were coming with us and their children so I initially made the reservation for 7 of us.  Only 5 of us went but that's a different story.

This year I had lost enough weight to be within a "white lie" of the weight limit, and besides unlike the company in Hawaii, Mt. Hermon does not, or did not, weigh guests before embarking on the zipline tour.  More importantly, my grandson had grown enough to be tall enough and weigh enough to meet the minimum requirements.

The week before we left for the campground our grandson was so excited.  He was so excited I made him a bet that he would wet his pants on the zipline, of course he bet that he wouldn't.

The day of our zipline tour arrived.  We drove the short distance to the site and checked in.  Just before we checked in I remembered there was an age requirement so I whispered to my grandson that if anyone asked he was 10.  Sure enough as we checked in he was asked how old he was, he responded in a quiet voice "10".  I didn't think anymore about it.

We met our guides, suited up in harnesses and helmets and walked to the beginning of the course.  My wife took the lead, our grandchildren, our grandson in the rear followed, and I was the last of our group.

The practice run went fine, no issues, although my harness was not the most comfortable thing I've ever worn.  Next a short walk on a suspension bridge and we were on a platform, under the canopy and ready to ride the zipline.

My grandson did not hesitate on the first zipline.  He followed his sisters and rode across just like everyone else.  I followed and we stood together on the next platform and talked about how much fun that first zip was.  The exhilaration of flying through the trees.  The beauty of being up in the trees and looking down at the world below.

My wife stepped up and was about to be strapped in for the second zip when my grandson announced he was not going to go across.  My wife stepped back and talked to him for a minute.  One guide had already gone across and the other members of our party, a young couple, were already across.  Regardless of what was said my grandson insisted he wasn't going across.  He was done.

Finally my wife and our granddaughters strapped in and went across to the next platform.  By this time my grandson had begun crying and insisted he wasn't going across.  With the tears I told the guide we were done and I would take my grandson back to the office.  Next thing I knew the guides traded places and we were waiting for a supervisor and safety rope.  The options were to go back across the first zipline, this would require inching back up after we reached the halfway point and the line went uphill.  The other option was to rappel down to the forest floor from the tree platform and then hike up from the creek bed, about a hundred feet uphill.  My grandson stated he had come across the first zipline and he could go back across it, he just couldn't go any further forward.

So, the guide hooked onto the line, first with my grandson and took him across the zipline and then the suspension bridge to where the supervisor was waiting.  Then he came back for me and we did the same procedure.  It was more fun riding across the first time, it was work to go backwards on the course.

My grandson and I walked back to the office and turned in our gear.  After we were done at the office my grandson turned to me and said, "you owe me 5 bucks."   I couldn't believe it.  "You owe me 5 bucks", he repeated, "I didn't pee my pants, that was the bet.  You didn't say anything about finishing the ride."

So, for the second time my wife went on the zipline at Mount Hermon without me. At least this time I got out on the course.

Jury Duty

Some days I wonder if people are just plain crazy?   Whether it's walking down the halls of a courthouse or on the streets downtown the question comes to mind on almost a daily basis.

Because I'm around courthouses and attorney's offices people always ask me if I know how to get out of jury duty.  My usual response is there is no surefire way of getting excused from jury duty.  That doesn't mean that I haven't seen people try all kinds of crazy things.

One Monday morning when I was running down the hallway where potential jurors check in, I pulled up short and had to cover my mouth so no one saw me laughing.  Sitting there among all the other potential jurors was a women who had to be in her mid-thirties.  I noticed her because of the way she was dressed.  I usually notice women who are dressed nicely in clothes that are flattering or at least clean.  This particular woman was going for a different look.  I was close enough to see that her T-shirt was inside out and backwards.  On her feet were fuzzy slippers and her hair was ratted to the point of standing two feet out from her head n every direction.  Based on the fact that no one was standing, or sitting, within three feet of her I can only assume that she hadn't bathed for a few days.   I hope her efforts paid off but I doubt it.

Have you ever sat through jury selection?  It's nothing like in the movies or TV.

I sat with my boss at the counsel table the first day of trial studying notes and comparing them to the people sitting around the room.  No one had been directed to the jury box.  the judge was first trying to determine who, if anyone, would be excused from jury service.  After a short speech about what did, and did not, qualify as an excuse from jury service.  Then the judge began asking for a show of hands those who qualified for one of those excuses.

For the next half hour people stated their excuses.  They ranged from medical conditions, to vacations and included sole proprietors of businesses.  About half of those who stated their excuses were actually excused.  No one stated an excuse that had anything to do with mental illness or other excuses that stretched credibility.

Before to long we had what is called our jury pool and after another two hours of questions we had  twelve, actually thirteen people, seated in the jury box.  Then it was lunch time.

Nothing qualified any of these people to sit on this, or any particular jury.  That's why some refer to a jury as twelve jokers in a box. 

Travels

I woke up Saturday morning looking up at Mount Shasta.  Unlike other Saturdays, in the distant past, this time I remembered how I got there.  It was the first morning of an 8 day vacation, in some ways a glorified road trip.  Over the course of 8 days we traveled more than 1,600 miles.  Little did I know when I looked up at Mount Shasta Saturday morning that this was just the beginning of a journey through truly beautiful country.  But I have to ask, who says vacation is all about relaxing?  We did sleep in a little bit, but our days were full.

Sunday morning I woke up to this view of the ocean on the Oregon central coast.  The drive to the coast was interesting.  We left Mount Shasta Saturday morning in sunshine and blue skies.  By the time we reached Medford Oregon the sun had disappeared behind the clouds and we experienced some drizzle, but no real rain.  Continuing north we stopped in Eugene Oregon, overcast, and just wandered around admiring the city.  Then it was off to the coast.

I don't believe I have ever driven through so much greenery in my life.  From the time we reached Eugene until we arrived at the coast we were driving through forest.  The layers and textures of the different shades of green was breathtaking.  For a boy originally from the desert of Las Vegas it was like being on a different planet.

Just before nightfall Saturday we arrived at our destination, a friend's house on the central coast of Oregon.  Unlike the beaches I ran on during my high school years on Southern California, it was not warm and inviting.  I didn't even touch the water but I'm sure it was COLD!  Still, the beach and the rhythm of the waves has an allure I can't deny.  Unfortunately, as we started to walk along the beach the rain finally came in force.  If not for my coat I would have been soaked, even with it I was wet before I got back to the house.

After waking up to the ocean Sunday morning we headed out for Portland.  Back from the coast to interstate 5 and then north.  The weather report said we would have rain in Portland.  The worst rain was between Salem and Portland.

Our first stop in Portland was the Oregon Zoo.  That's where we met this talented little guy.  You may not be able to tell from this picture but this is a full grown black bear running on this log inside his enclosure.  We spent the day with our umbrella and poncho walking around the zoo watching the different animals.  We watched the fruit bats at feeding time, kind of freaky.

After the zoo we found our way to our room for the next three nights.  After dropping off our luggage it was off to meet a friend for dinner.  Those that have been to Portland may have heard of the "Kennedy School", I never had.  So we had called our friend Cindy and asked where would be a fun place to meet her for dinner.  When she suggested the "Kennedy School" we thought she was talking about a cooking school.  Not quite!

I hope I get all of this right, or at least close.  The Kennedy School was an elementary school in northeast Portland constructed in the early 1900's.  In the 1970's, I think, it was to be demolished and was eventually bought by a private company who left the building intact and "repurposed" it as my wife would say.  It is now a hotel, with at least two restaurants, two bars and a movie theater.  We ate in the courtyard that evening, under the stars, near an outdoor fireplace with a patio heater nearby.  The food was very good and the atmosphere was fun.  The walls of the school are decorated with black and white pictures of former students and staff over the years of the school and supplemented with eclectic art, mostly from local artists.

We enjoyed the Kennedy School so much that Monday afternoon when we found ourselves in the area we went there for a late lunch.  This time we ate indoors, seated at a window where we could watch the rain falling on the courtyard and the beautiful plants.

So, enough of a travelogue.  Portland, and the rest of Oregon, was beautiful.  My wife commented several times that if we had moved there when we were younger we never would have left.  Maybe so.

I do have a couple of comments to include.  Our friend Cindy said, "welcome to Portland the polite".  She was right everyone was very polite, until we were on the freeway coming home and a minivan with Oregon plates and a Jesus bumpersticker gave us the finger as they passed us at 85 mph.

Portland seemed a lot like Santa Cruz north.  We saw more people with dreadlocks, panhandling, and/or homeless than I've seen anywhere besides the Bay area in Northern California.   I don't travel a lot.

The big question is, would I go back to Portland?  Probably.  But, as my wife points out, there are a lot of other places we would still like to explore.  So, it may take several years to get back to Portland but I bet we will.

Celebrity Spotting

I don't know when it exactly started but I do know why.  For years now anytime I go somewhere with my wife and children within minutes someone says the name of a celebrity and the rest of us look to see who they're referring to. This began as a means of keeping our children occupied at some event, like waiting at my oldest daughter's 6th grade graduation.  Whoever had the idea that families should all sit and wait through a graduation ceremony for the end of every school, elementary school, middle school, etc., never had to sit through one with a 5 year old.  I'll tackle that subject another time.

Anyway, I digress, as a means of keeping the children, and their father, entertained, my wife started celebrity spotting.

This activity reached an all time high when the first "Pirates of the Caribbean" movie came out and we vacationing in Santa Cruz.  One of the kids started it and it just went on and on.  There are blocks in Santa Cruz where there's a lot of people roaming around that look like they could have played Johnny Depp's double in the "Pirates" movies.  One day the kids spotted Johnny Depp 13 times between the boardwalk and downtown.

Another high point of the game was at my daughter-in-law's college graduation.  It was on the lawn  on the campus, in late May, temperature near 100.  It was a miracle there weren't more people with water bottles and water balloons starting something.  This time it wasn't Johnny Depp that was seen every where you looked.  The name I heard most was "Snookie".  The first time I heard the name I looked just in time to see a rather large young lady wearing a dress, I think it was a dress, that was about 3 sizes to small with orange skin and her handing standing at least 2 feet above her head.  After that I didn't bother trying to see who people were referring to when they said, "I see Snookie again".

Some people may not think it is nice, but it can be a fun diversion.  And, every once in awhile you actually do see a celebrity.  On one trip to Disneyland, coming out of Autotopia I grabbed my wife's arm and said "look, it's Teri Hatcher!"  My wife didn't even turn around and just said, "yeah right."  She finally looked when she heard somebody walking by saying they had just seen Teri Hatcher.  Yes, it was Teri Hatcher at Disneyland.  Once in awhile.

Card shopping

I have been told many, many times that men are procrastinators when it comes to buying gifts and even more so when it comes to buying cards.  I had heard this so many times I had even begun believing it was true.  I saw examples that supported the statement.

This next Sunday is Mother's Day so this is the week to get out and buy gifts and cards.  On Monday I stopped at Target on one end of town.  As I bought my mother a gift card and my wife a greeting card I noticed that the entire aisle of Mother's Day cards was full of men searching for the perfect card for their mother, wife or other important woman in their life.  So, as I left that store I was convinced that men were procrastinators.

Later in the day I stopped at another Target on the other end of town.  I wasn't shopping for cards.  As I walked by the card aisle I was surprised.  They had the same display of Mother's Day cards, but there wasn't a single man standing in the aisle looking for Mother's Day cars.  The aisle was full of women, young women, old women, women of every age.

So, this year at least, it's a draw.  Both men and women are procrastinators.

I guess I can check again the week before Father's Day. Probably not the Monday though, maybe on Tuesday.  You know how it is, I'm sure I'll get to the store before Father's Day and find a card, just don't look for me there early.

For all the mothers I have been inspired by, taught by, etc., Happy Mother's Day.

Cinco de Mayo

It's the first Saturday in May and my wife and I spent the morning on the American River in our kayaks.   Not the rapids and whitewater part of the river, a calm area with two bridges.  We launched and decided to head upriver.  This is a stretch of the river we visit a couple of times a year, it is close enough that we can actually get there during the week after work.

There is always plenty of wildlife to see.  In the past we have followed beavers, herons and other birds.  This trip we saw a lot of ducks and geese.

There are several reasons to go upriver first, not the least is the fact that if we go upriver first we can then float back to the dock.  When we begin going upriver the current is really gentle and we can paddle easily.  We pass under a new bridge, at least four lanes of traffic across, the noise is deafening.  We paddle a little further and we cross under the old bridge, only two lanes of traffic and less noise.  Right next to the old bridge is the really old pedestrian bridge.  As we pass under each bridge our view of the river is framed by the bridge, closing out anything but the river, and the green hillsides rising on each side, ahead is a hillside covered with trees.

As we pass under the last bridge the river starts to narrow and the current becomes stronger.  It took us twenty minutes to paddle from the dock to the last bridge.  From the last bridge it takes us more than twenty minutes to go less than half the previous distance.  For almost ten minutes we feel like we are paddling on a treadmill, barely making any forward progress.

After almost fifteen minutes on the treadmill we reach our destination, the turnaround point.  Suspended about fifty feet above the water is a sign hanging on a wire.  "Warning, you are entering state prison secure area, TURN BACK.  VIOLATORS MAY BE SHOT, THE WARDEN".  Some days we paddle until we are exactly under the sign before we turn around and ride the current back to the dock.  Other days, like today, we get to the point that we can see the sign and call it a good trip and head back.

Besides getting some exercise and enjoying nature we use the time on the river for another benefit.  All along both banks of the river are blackberry bushes.  We have learned to bring bags with us and we stop along the banks and pick ripe berries.  Unfortunately, we found out the first of May is to early for blackberries this year.  Still, even without the berries, a morning on the river is almost as good as it gets.

Then we floated and paddled back to the dock and pulled the kayaks out of the water.  A successful trip, no one went in the water, no boat got stuck on rocks, bushes or anything else.  Just a pleasant, mostly quiet morning on the river enjoying nature and each other's company.  Now we have to return to reality and think about getting a few things done.

What did any of this have to do with cinco de mayo, I don't know, it was the fifth of May and everywhere I looked stores, restaurants and everything else had signs that said cinco de mayo.

What the *@#&?

I'm seriously considering chucking my personally policy on the use of profanity, especially in this blog.

Last week I attended cub scout pack meeting with my 8 year old grandson. Sometimes they are a lot of fun, last week was just frustrating. While boys were running around getting sweaty I took the opportunity to visit with some parents. One man I spoke with is a commercial roofing contractor. Let's call him "Jack". I've know Jack for at least 5 years now and he knows that I work with attorneys but regardless, the conversation is always the same. I ask Jack how business is and he proceeds to tell what rotten, useless people attorneys are. I end up biting my tongue, nodding my head and as quickly as possible find someone else to talk with.

So, I just left Jack and I ran into the father of a brand new cub scout, let's call him "Earl". Earl is a chiropractor and new to our area as well as being new to cub scouts. As we were talking Jack came by and pointed out to us that cookies had been set out on the table and suggested we get some while the boys were still playing. I thanked Jack and stated cookies were not food for me.

I walked away from the cookies thinking I was through with Jack and Earl when Earl caught up with me and started telling me about a new healthy weight loss program he had just heard about at a recent Chamber of Commerce meeting. By that point it was all I could do not to scream that idiots should keep their mouths shut and their opinions or ideas to them selves.

Number one, I know that attorneys are not the favorites of a lot of people. I really know they aren't Jack's favorite people and I don't need to hear it again every time I see him. This is especially true since I make a living working with attorneys from all over the state of California. I may not like some of them but I try to keep the opinions to myself since they do pay me. At the same time I do not defend attorneys to Jack and others like him.

Number two, I know I'm fat, I could stand to lose some weight. I have a wife and a doctor who both remind of that fact regularly. One important thing to consider, both my wife and doctor know me better than Earl ever will. So when they make comments and suggestions about my weight they do so with an understanding of who I am and what my needs are.

Okay, now you can see why I considered straying from my own, largely unspoken, no profanity rule. Some days people, adults not children, say things without thinking first about what they are saying and the effects their words can have.

I guess the positive from all of this is the fact that I didn't yell or punch Jack or Earl I just ended my conversations with these men and walked away. There are some people who would consider that progress.

New Drivers

Next month my oldest granddaughter turns 16. I'm not old enough to have a granddaughter that old, but that's another post for another time.

Part of my granddaughter turning 16 is getting a driver's license. I'm sure most of us can remember getting our own driver's license and if you're like me you want to forget your children getting theirs.

I was thinking about this for two reasons. The first is that we were helping our youngest child move from an apartment to a house, a journey of less than two miles. Our granddaughters were with us and at one point my wife and the granddaughters stayed with out truck at the apartment and I went with another vehicle to the house. When I saw the truck coming down the street I saw my granddaughter behind the wheel. The rest of the day my wife kept handing my granddaughter the keys, even when I was in the truck. I'm glad to say there were no accidents or close calls, but it still made my heart beat faster.

At the next day my wife and I went to visit a friend, Sam, in the hospital. Sam had surgery a day or two before our visit and was in quite a bit of pain and taking powerful pain medication. According to Sam's wife, Karen, the medication was making her normally quiet husband into a chatter box. Somehow after we said hello Sam got started telling stores from his years a driver training teacher for a private driving school. Sam is a very straight forward man, and his stories were the same.

We live in northern California less than an hour from Folsom Prison. Sam's has stories of taking teenagers up to Folsom Prison for driver training. One story he shared was of a long haired young man with a very bad attitude. I assume from what Sam said this young man has been a little trouble. Sam had this young man drive up to Folsom Prison into the visitor's parking lot where a guard met them and asked what business they had at the prison. Sam's response was, "I just wanted to show this young man where he's going to end up if he doesn't straighten up!" The young man's attitude seemed to get a little better.

Another time Sam took a young lady out to Folsom Prison and drove around the parking lot and then started back towards the main street on the access road. Inmates were working along the access road picking up trash. Sam told the young lady to keep a steady speed because if she slowed down one of the inmates would try to jump in the car and escape. Just a short distance from the main road one of the inmates stepped onto the access road, the young lady didn't hesitate, she hit the gas and raced to the main road.

Sam's stories reminded me that my experiences teaching my own children to drive were very mild and unexciting.

My own experiences behind the wheel were not so pedestrian. When I took driver training it was offered by my high school and like many others I took the class over the summer between my sophomore and junior years. I remember my teacher was a football coach from one of the other high schools in the school district who was also a member of my family's church.

My first time behind the wheel with Coach Bond was memorable. He told me to make a right turn and took the corner to fast and he hit the brake on his side of the car. He told me that if he had to use the brake again he would also hit the "kill" switch and I would be done driving. The rest of my class was fine.

In the fall I got my driver's license. One Sunday evening there was a youth group meeting at Coach Bond's house. Because I had my license my parents let me drive the old Rambler sedan my dad and I had rebuilt. When I pulled up to Coach Bond's house he was standing at the door welcoming some other people. As I walked up to the door I invited Coach Bond to take a ride with me in my Rambler. He not so politely declined stating that he was no longer being paid so there was no way he was getting into a car with me behind the wheel.

We all have to begin some where and learn how to drive. All of this reminds me that age is not always the determining factor for a good or bad driver. I know people in their forties and fifties who have been driving for years but I wouldn't get into a car with them as the driver. I know younger drivers, in their twenties, who I am very comfortable with as drivers. Unfortunately for my granddaughter she is not there yet. So when she gets to drive my car, or truck, I will be a little anxious and biting my tongue so as not to be overwhelming with my advice.

What?!

Last week I was contacted by an attorney for whom I regularly do work. Some weeks I ghostwrite a motion or other documents, some weeks I just run documents to the court. Nothing spectacular, but regular, and sometimes interesting work.

But last week he, Pete, called and asked if I had time to research and write a new complaint to be filed in superior court. It was a slow week and I rarely, if ever, tell Pete no. So I asked for details.

Some may see this as an extension of my facebook post that stupid ought to hurt. Others may see themselves in this. For me it is just a little information and maybe some venting.

It seems that this couple, somewhat educated small business owners had come to Pete with a problem. This couple, let's call them Bob and Sally Jone, had hired a "contractor" to build a patio with an outdoor kitchen and to landscape the backyard. Bob and Sally did not sign a contract, they did not ask to see the contractor's license and to date they have paid him, the contractor, more than $30,000.00.

A few weeks ago the contractor approached Bob and said, "I'm done, you owe me $2,000 more on the original agreement and an additional $2,000 for additional work, pay me." Bob's reaction was that the job was not finished and the parts that were supposedly finished were substandard. Bob and Sally had a few concerns they wanted addressed, just little things like the patio did not have a drain and water collected in the middle of it, the pation had cracks in it, the concrete countertops had cracks in them, and several other minor things that needed to be finished or corrected.

The "contractor" refused to finish or correct the project and the next week Bob received a letter from the contractor's attorney demanding payment. Bob called the attorney and explained the problem, the attorney told Bob he would get back to him. The next week Bob was served with a lawsuit stating that the contractor had finished all the agreed upon work in a satisfactory manner and Bob had refused to pay him.

Enter my friend Pete. Bob and Sally were referred to Pete by a friend of a friend and after meeting with them agreed to represent them and help them. Then Pete called me. The first thing Pete asked me to do was to verify if this "contractor" was indeed licensed. In the state of California anyone, other than the property owner, doing home repairs or new construction for an amount in excess of $500 is required to have a valid contractor's license issued by the California State Contractor's Licensing Board.

Well, I went looking and found out that the "contractor" did not have a contractor's license. My assignment from Pete immediately changed from merely defending Bob and Sally to also going on the offensive and firing back a lawsuit on their behalf. In that lawsuit we alleged that the "contractor" was not licensed in doing the work at Bob and Sally's house, that he was required to be licensed and by not being licensed he had violated at least 6 separate statutes.

That was just last week and Pete has not called to say he has heard from the "contractor's" attorney. I'm sure he will shortly.

This all brings me to the point I'm trying to make. Bob and Sally needed to be more diligent at the beginning of this process. I found it somewhat unbelievable that someone would employ another person, not a family member, to do a home improvement for any amount without a written estimate and agreement of the scope of the work and the money to be paid. I also find it hard to believe that they didn't check on the "contractor's" license before they paid him any money. Still, it happened and probably happens more than any of us realize.

So this is just my cautionary tale of the week. Working with attorneys like Pete I have learned that quite a few of the arguments that are in our courts today are there because the parties didn't think they needed a written agreement. This happens with friends, family members and even virtual strangers.

I sure that some of you can identify with Bob and Sally. I hope that we learn from these lessons.

Home

I am trying to get better about writing and posting here consistently. To that end Here goes another subject I have been thinking about.

This morning I had the opportunity to talk with a young man who has done some work around our house. He commented on how much he likes our backyard and the decorating we have done there. I would like to take credit but I admit it is mostly my wife. I'm just the unskilled labor. Still I do get to enjoy it.

The conversation reminded me that I have had the blessing and privilege for almost 33 years of being married to a beautiful lady who has always made whatever place we lived in a home. A place where our children, and now grandchildren, have felt comfortable and secure, a place where family and friends have been welcome, a place where the worries of the world can be forgotten, or tackled, depending on the need.

One of our first places was a cottage in an affluent community. It was actually a duplex/studio. We lived in one side, a little kitchenette on the back wall, our small dining room table on another wall and our bed/couch on the front wall. We did have a separate bathroom and a hallway/closet between the main room and the bathroom, but it was less than 400 square feet. We lived there with our oldest daughter who turned one while we lived there. I don't remember ever feeling cramped, but it did feel like home.

From that studio we moved to another cottage, it sat behind another house on a busy street in the heart of Orange County California. It appealed to me because it had a separate bedroom for our daughter. My wife and I had our bed in the front room, although we rarely used the front door, it opened into the backyard of the front house. It had a large kitchen with room for our dining table, a hand-me-down a relative was going to throw out. The bathroom was different. When you went from the front room to the kitchen you walked through the bathroom, on the left was the toilet and sink, with a door, on the right was the shower with a curtain.

It seems like we had a lot of visitors in that cottage. We moved there for my job but my wife had relatives who lived close by also. For awhile we had relatives who would just hang out at our house, it was inviting, comfortable, a place people didn't seem to want to leave.

We have never lived in a large, fancy house. Our present house is the first we've ever owned. But each place we have lived in has felt like home.

We have often had people tell us that they like our home, inside and out. A few years ago one young lady, a friend of one of our children, told us she and her family had bought a home in a neighboring town. After we congratulated here she said, "now we just need you and your wife to come help us put our backyard together. I just love your house and backyard." I accepted the compliment then told her it is all my wife's doing, but she doesn't hire out, to her, my wife, our house and yard are still a work in progress.

This year it is my goal to get my wife to scale back on some of that work and sit back and enjoy the hard work she has put into making our house a home.

I realize this post may be seen as a little mushy. Next one I'll make a little more manly!

Grandchildren

Let me start by saying that I have four grandchildren, two girls and two boys raging in age from 22 months to 15 3/4 years. Yes, we must count the months and the quarters, they are important.

I am blessed to have my grandchildren all live within an hour of my home so I have the opportunity to see them quite often. Some more often than others, but I see all of them quite often. My oldest granddaughter reminds me that she lived with my wife and I the first two years of her life. She doesn't have actual memories of that, but she has seen pictures and is reminded of that by different family members. Some days she asks, "grandpa, when can I come back and live with you again?" My answer is always the same, "you can always come and visit but you live with mommy and daddy!"

My children often comment that grandchildren seem to "get away with" a lot of things children never "got away with". Maybe they're right.

Last weekend our 22 month old grandson came for the weekend without mom and dad. We played, we went for walks, we had a lot of fun. Meal time was, well, interesting. Most meals he sat at the table with my wife and ate really well, but, there were a few food items he didn't like. Instead of waving those food items away he would take them, chew them up into the tiniest diced pieces and then spit them out. One evening I was eating some sugar snap peas and handed him one, it fit in his little hand and he could feed himself while he walked around. He started in the kitchen and then moved into the family room. A few minutes later I went into the kitchen for something and found a little pile of shredded and diced green stuff on the floor, the sugar snap peas.

Now when my children small I would have yelled, maybe even swatted a child who spit out food on the floor. But, not my grandchildren. I looked at the pile of peas on the floor, shook my head and laughed as I cleaned it up, no harm no foul.

I know that my grandchildren aren't perfect, but according to my children they get away with murder at my house and when they are with me.

I disagree with my children, but I remind them it is not my job to raise and discipline their children. It is my job to have fun with them and love them. Parents have to parent. Grandparents get to have fun.

Let's talk about some fun. Last summer I got to go kayaking in the ocean with my granddaughters. We were near Santa Cruz in an area where the ocean is pretty calm, no surfing to speak of, so we were able to launch kayaks and paddle out from the shore. While kayaking we found ourselves in the middle of several sea lions, maybe 6 or 8. Pretty soon we were paddling back and forth, first we would follow the sea lions and then they would follow us. This went on for quite awhile and then they, the sea lions, got tired of us and left. After the sea lions left my youngest granddaughter went back to shore and just my oldest granddaughter and I remained on the water. We were just sitting there when I saw my youngest granddaughter motioning on shore. When I looked where she was pointing I smiled and yelled at my oldest granddaughter. Just a hundred feet from us were five dolphins swimming parallel to the shore coming up out of the water.

I started paddling on a path that I hoped would take me real close to the dolphins. When I looked back at the shore I saw my wife with her arms around my youngest granddaughter. I turned back and my oldest granddaughter and I raced out to meet the dolphins. For almost ten minutes we paddled towards them and then the dolphins turned to meet us. We got within 15 feet of them before they dived down and hurried past us.

When I returned to shore I was excited to talk with my wife about the dolphins and she was equally anxious to tell me about my youngest granddaughter. It seems that when the first dolphin surfaced all my granddaughter saw was the fin on the dolphin's back and thought it was a shark. That's why my wife was holding her, reassuring her that it was a dolphin, not a shark, and her sister and I were alright.

I have seen all the bumper stickers, "Grandchildren, God's gift for not killing your own children"; "If I had known grandchildren were so much fun I would have had them first!" and they go on and on. They may sound like cliches but for me they are true.

Thinking of grandchildren leads naturally into thoughts of grandparents. Maybe next time.

Friday the 13th

Happy Friday the 13th. It should be a happy day, I was born on a Friday the 13th, but today is not my birthday.

I don't personally put a lot of store in the superstition of Friday the 13th, although that may change today. Shortly after I woke up I checked my emails, something I do most mornings. I had two of interest. The first was from my oldest daughter, the subject line was something about, having a job for me. It seemed a little strange as my daughter has gone back to college, but I opened the email to find my daughter's account had been hacked and I just opened an email that probably had a virus. Nothing bad has happened yet but I'm being cautious.

The second email was of greater concern initially. I work with quite a few attorneys, some I work with almost daily others I work with very rarely, like once every six months. Anyway the second was form one of those attorneys that I work for rarely. I had seen Joe about two weeks ago while walking through a courthouse and we said hi. I hopes this email actually did have some work. It didn't. Joe's email said he had read an obituary in a neighboring community's newspaper in the name of David J. Sullivan. He was writing to let me now that he was glad to see that it wasn't my obituary.

I called my wife a little while ago to tell her about Joe's email and the obituary. She asked if I had read the obituary. I haven't, there is something about seeing my name in an obituary is unsettling and I don't want to do it.

Quite a good start to a Friday the 13th. If I was a superstitious person I would go back to bed until tomorrow and hope that Saturday the 14th is a better day.

Mondays

Well, I just spent a half hour composing a post about this past Monday but when I went to spell check and edit it disappeared. I guess that tells you what my Monday was like? Maybe I'll try again later, but I know I won't try this Friday the 13th!

observations

It has been interesting over the years as I have grown older and as a natural result my grandparents and other relatives have or are passing away. With each death I am reminded of man's basic selfish nature.

The first time I personally dealt with this was several years ago when a friend's grandfather died. I was in law school at the time and as a result I became the "expert" on legal matters among my friends and family members. Shortly after the funeral I ran into my friend's mother who asked me about contesting her father-in-law's will. My friend had said he thought his parents were getting some money from his grandfather's estate, but he didn't have details.

As I talked with Evelyn, my friend's mother, the details became clear. Whoever who was in charge of settling the estate had determined that there was $50,000 in cash to be evenly split and shared by my friend's father and his four siblings. Now that seems like quite a bit of money to me, $10,000. But to Evelyn it wasn't enough. She wanted to know if she could demand an accounting of the money because she was sure that money was missing, that her husband, and her, should be receiving more money.

It was more than a little surprising to hear this generous, compassionate woman insisting that she, through her husband, was entitled to more money. I guess it's just human nature.

In the end I was able to tell Evelyn that it was her husband's call, not hers. She seemed more than a little surprised to learn that she couldn't challenge the amount of money her husband was receiving. It was stille her husband's call, amd if he didn't want to challenge, or question, the amount of money he was receiving then it was over.

With that experience in mind for the last several years I have watched families argue, sometimes fight, over the simplest things. Even when there has been absolutely no money involved I have sen families fight over the most trivial items.

Most recently I watched another close friends' family members argue and hurt each other's feelings as they have gone through their mother's house following her death. I should say that those hurt feelings actually began long before their mother's death. Almost twenty years ago I heard that some of these people were already trying to stake out their territory and property in their mother's house. So the week before their mother died the infighting began in earnest. The first fight I heard about was over staying in the hospital or in home hospice care.

What was most interesting was that the one child, if you can call a seventy-four year old man a child, arguing for leaving his mother in the hospital until her death was the only one who actually lived the close to his mother. The other surviving children lived several hours away. As a result of a heated discussion it finally came out that the oldest son figured he would be expected to take care of his mother because he lived closest. It didn't seem to matter that this man has been retired for several years and moved to his present home fairly close to his mother after he retired.

I suppose the fear of having to care for an aged, failing relative is very real for some people.

The lesson I have learned from all of this is, people are essentially greedy and if you care what your relatives do after you die then leave specific instructions in the care of an uninterested party. Or, make sure everything is gone before you die. They may curse you for being a burden but they won't have things to fight over.