"My Pension Is My Pay"

As a former County of Sonoma civil servant, I receive correspondence from SCERA-Sonoma County Employees Retirement Association-and there is no T-shirt that would be more fun to wear. However, it is something that I worked very hard for in life and I take it seriously when states like Wisconsin wipe out decades of labor suffrage with a Republican governor's effort.

We are the new whipping post because even gays are not sufficient enough to bash anymore. Besides, it is about the economy stupid and we need a new scapegoat. So it is that public employees and their union pensions have become the most hated for all our perks and wonderful benefits that we earned while sitting on our hands and chewing gum while the public we served went hungry. Yeah. Right.

Most recently, correspondence from SCERA let us know that they had lost the lawsuit with The Press Democrat-a now right wing local newspaper.   The Press Democrat supported the County Adminstrator, denigrated our union and the county workers during our entire year worked without a contract.

During that year in the County Administrator wiped away the health care stipend for the retirees and all but brought pandemonium to our negotiations fueling a feeling of loathing and anger towards county management.  The CAO was much later fired with a large stipend and hired in Stockton.  A cheering wave went up around our office when the email of his demise was sent.  Nice guy that Bob.

You get the picture. The Press Democrat has reviled us as workers with benefits that were not earned. This is the smaller version of the new national trend. Although we worked hard for our pensions, the provider is now acting like they changed their mind on the agreement made with us and we are in line to lose big. Everyone who has a pension knows the feeling and it enrages all of us who have given our lives for our work. Our time on the planet as workers is as easily dismissed as the promise made upon our hiring date.

The long journey to losing the lawsuit with the Press Democrat means that my name will be published with my pension benefit amount in their newspaper. All of us will be held up as the new evildoers who have not earned a seat at the table. When we worked for the county, we gave up weeks of pay so that others could keep their jobs and we did not get any cost of living increase while the CAO, the county managers and the Board of Supervisors all took raises and kept them. That did not seem to bother The Press Democrat. 

Now it seems, like so many workers in this world, we also are subject to broken promises and broken contracts. Whether it is Britain or Sonoma county, the same lie is being fed to the public who are just dying to blame someone, anyone, for making off with their bag of riches. However, "my pension is my pay" whether the promise is broken or not.

Don't pee on my foot and tell me it's raining because I actually know the difference.

Fuyu To You Too!

Although I bust my hump each day at work, weighing in at 101 lbs most days with more energy than both my co-workers, I have found the organic fruit trees on our 7 AC campus to be an amazing treat.  There were golden and red delicious apples and Asian, Bartlett and then D'Anjou pears over the last two and a half months.  We are an organic campus which means that any resident or staff can walk up to a fruit tree there and pick and eat a wonderful piece of fruit with certainty of an organic treat. 

It has been almost otherworldly to be able to experience fruit like this as if I were a kid plucking one of my favorites from the tree and rapidly consuming it!  Actually, sometimes I am amazed at the voraciousness of my enjoyment and the freedom that organic food brings to my experience is monumental. 

This month the persimmon trees have turned coral pink and then dropped their leaves.  The deep orange orbs that remain on bare tree branches are beautiful and stunning.  That deep orange set against a cold winter day-though it has been sunny most days-is magical. The contrast is pure genius from nature.

I had never eaten a Fuyu persimmon and now I can't stop wondering how many I can eat in a day.  The Fuyu can be eaten now and has a very sweet taste with a crispness like an apple.  Unlike the Hachiya persimmon which needs to soften and lose that acidic bite before being eaten, the Fuyu is a squatty orange orb that is juicy and incredibly sweet with an amazing crispness like a fresh, ripe apple.

I feel lucky to be able to enjoy the beauty of a sunny, winter day in California while hauling my tenth cart of leaves and taking bites of an organic Fuyu that might just make my afternoon a little more bearable and a lot more interesting. Magic can be just that simple.

Judas Could Not Have Done Better

This weekend the Board of Directors of my place of work hauled in the management company that they thought placed well in their line up of choices to come in and clean house.  Many residents came to hear the PowerPoint presentation with all of the marketing folks who came in suits with vague answers to allay the fears of all. The were very slick and had an answer, albeit amorphous, for every concern that was presented.  Too slick some said.  Too many suits some said.

A Quaker inspired retirement facility, we are very different, or so I thought. Quakers do not believe in drawing attention to themselves but it seems that they are still susceptible to being marketed like the rest of us. A very well rehearsed presentation by Pacific Retirement Services Inc. had won over almost all of the residents, some adamantly opposed previously, to the idea of all of the wonderful qualities that suits can only promise. 

It was clear today when the BOD claimed they had chosen PRS that they had chosen before the presentation.  Clever board members led the residents down the primrose path with the suits leading the way to a better, more solvent world.  The residents are no longer worried about the loyal staff of our campus, they just want the goodies. 

It is a sad day when something so right becomes co-opted by corporate interests because in an iPhone world, temptations of plenty rise far above integrity, simple values and authenticity.  Strange and true at the same time, a good slogan can win over a person who has fears running parallel to aging in a fiscally weak environment.  Suits help slogans even if the promises are said while holding a handful of employee termination slips behind their backs. 

Today there was no going back to the idea of the three branches of governance with an Executive Director, BOD and residents to keep one another honest.  The ED and the Director of Nurses will be PRS employees. As the BOD  have already hired two interim EDs who have fired and suspended their way through our workplace, it is clear that they cannot wait to have PRS do their dirty work.  Gone will be the Quaker inspired environment of egalitarianism with open communication.  Gone will be the feeling of family and work in unison.

The BOD in their subterfuge have parlayed a way of life into a deceptive marketing ploy to save themselves from being responsible to the residents and staff.  They stood shoulder to shoulder with others who have sold out values for expedient corporate efficiency and in doing so proved out that Judas could not have done better himself.

The Good Fairy is Jewish And Other Secrets

Yesterday, while having coffee and pastries at Michelle Marie's Patisserie and enjoying the light through the front windows, the smell of coffee and sugar and a few dancing children who seemed delighted to be out and about on a Saturday morning, The Good Fairy walked into the shop.

Through the front door came a glittering image replete with crown, scepter and a brilliance that belied the analytical brain of a petite woman in a small town in northern California who feels that her dreams just don't come to fruition. The GF floated past the shop's patrons anointing and tapping people along the way while our hero sat transfixed.

When the glittering apparition came upon our troubled wee one, she said "I have been looking for you for months!" and the GF tapped her lightly on the right temple, smiling and beaming and moved on to the next humans consuming expensive french pastry and strong coffee. Magic can happen just when you aren't ready. Ok, I am ready! Really! 

R E S P E C T

I have worked all week with a hideous cold that seemed to be worse every day.  This was day four and counting and I really wanted to call in sick.  However, I didn't.  Each day my co-workers did not seem to notice that my voice was pretty weird and I kept blowing  my nose.  Last night was the sneezing and watery eyes phase.  Today it was cranky in my head and bend towards the wind and it will soon be over kind of day!

Today is World AIDS day and I thought of many men I knew who died in the 1980s including Bill Day and Jim Hickey who hired me to do gardening and landscape maintenance.  I also thought of handsome Dave Becker who was tall, blond and very good looking.  Although I was never on Dave's "A" list, I remember him telling me how hard it was to feel so shitty every day living with AIDS. All of these men died decades ago now and yet their spirits live on in me. 

I have been working now for almost two and a half months in a job that was supposed to be a garden job and now is much more like maintenance.  We were asked to set out the garbage cans each week now as they pile strange duties on our jobs in order to get ready to lay people off.  It is coming.  The new ED could not lace his shoes if he had to bend over-he wears loafers-and seems to be micro-managing everyone.  He told us we rake and sweep too much.  Now we only do that two days a week.  7 acres of 110 trees that are all dropping their leaves.  No more tidy campus.  Welcome to my world.

I have been looking for work online three days a week because two days a week I walk the three Greyhounds at 6 AM.  I want to stop thinking about being disappointed about my job and start doing something about it.  I got excited when a dog kennel in the west county called me about my resume.  I took my cell phone to work and on my break-read not while working!-I called them.  The person in charge was seeing a client and so I said I could be available at noon for my 1/2 hour lunch.  I sat in my car with my phone and waited while I ate my lunch.  You guessed it.  They never called back.  They have yet to return my call and I get the message regardless. Welcome to the world of finding a good job!

Respect seems to be absent in all ways within context of working and finding a job lately.  Respect means you call and you get a call back.  Respect means that an applicant takes the time to send you a well prepared cover letter and resume and you treat them with the same consideration by returning their call.  Each side can be successful but it seems groveling is all anyone can register.  I cannot seem to get through the maze and yet I am still trying to renew my faith that one day, somehow I shall have the respect that I seek returned as I have given it. It is easy as the golden rule but most employers could not be bothered. 

Downy Chicken Butts

We have traveled home from our now seemingly brief Mendocino county stay and unpacked, picked up the dogs from the kennel and started the wash. All too quickly, life imposes on the simple beauty of Mar Vista and Rosie's beach. All too quickly the dream of having a different take on life withers to the background. For now, I can still hear the ocean and see the reflection of the setting sun at the minus tide in the wet sand of Rosie's beach. For now, I can remember waking up to all those chickens clucking to begin their new chicken day. For now, I can recall the incredible stars last night as Mar Vista gave us a chance to see the miracle of the openness above the cabins to the milky way. From horizon to horizon there was nothing but stars and midnight blue sky. Mar Vista's planetarium.

This morning I stepped outside before our last trip to Rosie's beach with my coffee, stood facing the west and said a prayer for myself. The grass was still wet with dew from a frosty northern coast night and the fellow Mar Vista guest were still tucked in their cabins. We always go down to the beach one last time and even though the tide was in and we could only scrunch up against the cliff, that blessed beach that holds memories sweet and bittersweet still waved goodbye. We made a pact to return before winter is over and I hope we stick to it. By then we will either be unemployed and glad to have a getaway or a reason to celebrate continuing to be employed.

We had lots of talks as we drove and then sat and then walked the beach about where we are right now in life. I have the Titanic thoughts of our partnership though I am open to hearing something that will challenge my negative thinking. It was posed to me that I am at a plateau, neither moving on nor backwards. I am open to that idea though it feels frightening at times, my strength firmly intact though tested in an economic climate that seems like an ensuing tornado.

I have some great memories of our trip and relish the silent beauty of such a wild ocean community. So difficult to explain at times because it evokes deep feelings of belonging, healing, reminiscence and calm. Mar Vista is like no other place I know and holds my deep attachment to the ocean. One of my fond memories of our trip is the urging of one of our hosts to take a look inside the chicken's egg laying hotel and feel their downy chicken butts.

Well, I was curious though the chickens got up revealing body warm eggs they had laid. They do have downy chicken butts and I am fine just viewing those from afar. However, these chickens appear to lay the "best tasting eggs" many guests have consumed. It was fun just seeing the colorful eggs freshly laid as if it were a magic trick. Actually, Mar Vista itself is a magic trick as it makes one forget about a stressful time in life by providing a serene, lovely place to breathe, nap, walk, dream and be in the momentousness of each moment.

Thank you Mar Vista, we shall be back soon!

View of Rosie's beach at the minus tide...

Rosie's Beach

We are prepping our lives to taxi towards the Thanksgiving holiday up the north coast of California where the environment brings peace to my heart.  Decades ago, I travelled north with my former partner in search of a Mendocino county getaway that became a place of refuge.  Then, I loved the idea of finding a way to force my partner to be closer.  As a much younger me, I kept thinking she would change and come to appreciate the human whose every thought was somehow attached to getting her to love me.  Silly girl I now think, that never works.  Ah, if only I had the wisdom that can only come with age!

When the divorce was final on 10/26/03, I did not think of all the places we had been over 16 years together as providing a way for all those ghosts to flap their ephemeral wings in my face.  However, Mar Vista was never one of those otherworldly reminders of love lost.  I knew that Mar Vista was my place and holds my memories.  Mar Vista is tied to me. 

The cottages at Mar Vista were built 75 years ago and they offer privacy, sweet furnishings with a living room/kitchen that holds the coastal light during the day that lends itself to reading, dreaming, tea drinking, napping and just plain being.  You can hear the seals barking through the airwaves.  A short walk gets you to a horseshoe shaped beach that I now call Rosie's beach.  Time at Mar Vista allows the pain of life to be put on hold though it is still there.  It is just that the sting of life is not part of a vacation at Mar Vista.  There is a stoic beauty here that belies a light shining on any of my troubles. 

When my best dog friend Rosie died very quickly and very unexpectedly, I knew that I would scatter her ashes on the shore of that beach at Mar Vista.  When I only had one dog, we brought our dogs here for a brief stay.  The tide was in at the rock we scoot around to walk an extension of Rosie's beach thus cutting off the horseshoe beach for a straightaway where we could let the dogs run.  I unclasped Rosie's collar and she took off full Greyhound tilt hauling dog butt through the water up the short beach left by the tide.  She did this several times and returned to me breathless and glassy eyed as if the freedom and the salt air made her feel high.  It was wonderful to watch and I shall never forget it.

It has been many years since Rosie died and I made my way up the coast on a perfect sunny and warm January day to scatter a dozen red roses and her ashes.  That day too is in my memories as it could not have been more perfect.  Low tide, sunny and warm with no one on the beach.  I walked the shoreline tossing red roses in the surf and then her ashes, weeping at the loss of a dog who had slept by my bedside at night, watched me crawl through an aching divorce, the loss of our home and many other losses.  She was the dog I have never found since and maybe because she was one of a kind.  I have her photo beside my bed and in my car.  She sits beside the being that I imagine is a "God" when I meditate.  Rosie is all that and much more.

We commence our planning and gathering of acorn squash recipes, whipped cream, meal planning adventures, stacking clothing and synchronizing our efforts to get our three Greyhounds to the kennel and pack the car.  We will be driving up the coast Wednesday evening after work toward the place that holds sweet and bittersweet memories of stillness, love, freedom, beauty and peace.  Rosie's beach is the best place I can think of to feel grateful for all that has come to pass on this Thanksgiving 2011.