The New & Improved “Illegal Alien Panacea”!

I know this is a volatile subject and what I have to say will, I’m sure, earn me my fair share of “flames” but, I find it increasingly difficult to ignore the large percentage of (even otherwise politically “liberal”) Americans -- good, intelligent and perceptive people -- that seem to somehow have fallen into the trap of accepting the easy scapegoating of “illegal aliens” in an attempt to explain the many ills this country is presently experiencing instead of placing the lion's share of the blame for those ills where it belongs: On the decided lack of “corporate morality”.

In addition, a growing nationalism has been wrought by the passage of time between the formation of our country and the present generations which has fashioned a kind of emotional and intellectual “distancing” from the principles and intentions of the Founders that is, I believe, also fueling this “feeding frenzy”.

Allow me to explain:

It is an extremely difficult thing for us -- products of the 20th and 21st centuries -- to get in touch with the mind-set of the Framers of the Constitution and the Founders of these United States because we are over 200 years removed from them but, in example after example of their writings and speeches, they speak of America as becoming the ONE PLACE ON EARTH where the displaced, the oppressed and the poor “refuse” (as the quote on the Statue of Liberty states) from countries all over the globe could come and receive justice, fair treatment and a chance to “make something of themselves” that was better than any chance they would have had in their native lands…

The words etched upon the base of “Lady Liberty” don’t say “come here only if we don’t have to help you along” or “come here only if you are well-educated, well-skilled and promise to speak only English at all times”. It speaks of the “wretched”, the “downtrodden”, the “huddled masses yearning to breathe free”…

The reason why the Founders sympathized so with the plight of immigrants is because they, themselves, were immigrants (as my mother used to say) “thrown out of most all of the decent countries in the world at that time”. For the most part, they were poor, uneducated, members of the lower classes in the countries they came from or religious and/or political fanatics. Many of them even started out in this country as prisoners, indentured servants and slaves. . .

A high percentage of those of us who are presently living in the United States (myself included) were born here and are the products of second, third, fourth, fifth (or even more) generations of Americans. As such, we seem to have completely lost touch with one of the main reasons why this country is (and was meant to be) so different from all of its predecessors.

It was meant to be a country where people from all over the world could come and live together under the principles of justice, fairness, equality and opportunity while retaining (or adopting) whatever religions, customs, pursuits, practices, opinions and political views suited them best.

As such, the United States HAS no “official” religion, language, or orthodoxy. . . By pure definition, it encompasses ALL religions, languages and orthodoxies. This diversity is by design and should not be the source of our shared embarrassment or our collective rancor but, rather, our GREATEST NATIONAL PRIDE because the moral and social principles of OUR government place it, alone, above ANY OTHER NATION IN THE WORLD.

At various times in our history as a nation, different ethnic groups have arrived upon our shores en masse after experiencing various calamities in their own countries. The Dutch and the English arrived here in the mid-1600s and the early 1700s due to the religious persecution being perpetrated upon them by their governments at that time. The Irish arrived here in the 1840s after their infamous “Potato Famine”. The Germans, the Polish and many other Central Europeans arrived here in the 1850s, the early 1900s and the late 1930s due to the conflicts occurring in Europe at those times. The Africans arrived here, for the most part, as slaves in the 16 and 1700s. The Vietnamese and Cambodians arrived here in the 1970s after the Viet Nam War and the fall of South Viet Nam to Communism and, in the last 20 years we have seen an influx of Central Americans due to bloody revolutions in their countries and Mexicans because of the ruinous financial state in that country brought on, for the most part, by corruption within their government.

My point is that each massive influx of other nationalities has brought with it social “growing pains” when those who were already here had to make adjustments in their traditional views and outlooks to accommodate the new-comers and, each time that happened, there was a backlash by certain segments of our population that did its best to degenerate the situation into opportunities for discrimination, prejudice and oppression.

To use my own family tree as an example, my paternal German ancestors were shunned by the native Texans they encountered when they arrived there in the 1850s. My gosh! They spoke a strange language and actually wanted to build churches that prescribed to a different doctrine than their Baptist neighbors!

On the other side of that same branch of my family tree were my Irish ancestors who arrived on the shores of this country in the 1840s starving and with absolutely no money or savings with which to support themselves.

In those cases -- and the cases of all of the other immigrants who came here -- to their credit, they saved, worshipped and managed to build homes and lives for themselves here in this wonderful “melting pot” of the United States with hard work and determination and they were able to do it because this place is so unlike anyplace that came before it. . .

So we come to the “immigrants du jour”, the Mexicans. . .

First, let’s make certain that we’re putting the proper “label” on this discussion. . .

So that we make no mistake about it, when we hear the legions that we hear every day speaking about “illegal aliens”, what they’re REALLY talking about is "Mexicans". There are those who would argue the point but, in truth, the number of other alien groups that could be considered “illegal” are negligible at best. It is the Mexicans that are the brunt of this latest wave of persecution -- just as were the Irish, Germans, Polish and all of the others that came before.

Jean’s First Law of Logic:
When people seek to “disguise” the real subject of what they’re talking about, it should give all who hear it cause for concern and suspicion.

The people who speak of the “Mexican problem” (for, remember, that is what is really being said here) usually have several points upon which their argument rests. Let’s look at these points one by one, shall we?
 
Mexicans are taking jobs away from American (sic) citizens who need them.

First of all, just to clarify, “Mexicans” ARE “Americans”. . . They aren’t even “South” or “Central” Americans -- they are “North Americans” by pure definition just like ourselves and the Canadians are.

Secondly, you’ll find almost exclusively that the people making this argument aren’t -- by some amazing coincidence -- even employed in the industries most affected by so-called “illegal” immigrants. You’d be extremely hard-pressed to find even a handful of farm workers, motel maids, bus boys, clothing factory workers or gardeners making this statement… No. Precious few, if any, of the people who make this statement have EVER sought employment in these fields or ever intend to. . .

Jean’s Second Law of Logic:
When people who have little or no familiarity with the subject they’re talking about seek to speak for people who do, it should give all who hear it cause for concern and suspicion.

I have worked in some of these fields. . . As a matter of fact, I have held middle-management positions in the agricultural field where I was responsible for hiring and firing hundreds of people in jobs of the type wherein one would most likely find a high percentage of Mexicans (and high percentage of “illegal” Mexicans, as well) and I can tell you that, out of the 50 employment applications sitting on my desk at any one time, an average of only about FIVE of them were NOT Mexicans -- and four of those were from El Salvador.

You will find, if you care to really research the situation, that my experiences are the norm throughout every, single one of the job families that employ large numbers of Mexicans -- some of which I mentioned earlier. Contrary to what those with little or NO experience in the matter say, I can assure you that there are NO HUGE LINES of natural-born citizens of this country breaking down the doors of employment agencies or personnel departments eager for their chance to pick grapes, make-up beds or wash dishes. THEY SIMPLY DON’T EXIST!

As a matter of fact, already, a semi-crackdown on "illegal aliens" has caused several fruit growers here in California (and other places, as I understand it) to PLOW UNDER orchards of pears, apples and grapes that have stood for almost a century because they can find NO LABORERS TO HARVEST THEIR CROPS!

If or (God forbid) when those advocating the immediate exportation of the Mexicans have their way, it will be only the beginning of a huge downward spiral that will end only when:

1) Produce, clothing, services such as those performed by janitors, farm workers, maids, gardeners, etc. are non-existent, or,

2) These items become SO EXPENSIVE that they can only be obtained by the very rich.

If we are forced to depend upon “native-born” labor to harvest our produce, be prepared to pay $15 a piece for avocadoes at the grocery store soon. After those who seem to want to place way too much blame upon the "red herring" of "illegal aliens" for the financial crisis we are now experiencing that has been caused more by sending most of our low-skill-level jobs offshore for the tax breaks and low operating costs this practice affords the very, very wealthiest class in this country have their way, make no mistake, that’s what it will come to. . .

But, huge, conglomerate, agri-businesses are exploiting cheap, illegal labor to make themselves rich!

I believe you will find -- if, again, you really want the truth -- that most of the "big growers" (true, huge, corporate agriculture-based conglomerates) have long since either already converted to (or are in more than the introductory phases of converting to) mechanized harvest methods simply because they are the ones with the money to do so. In most cases, this has all but ELIMINATED their utilization of masses of illegal labor.

The truth is that it is the smaller, family-oriented, even "boutique" growers whose profitability is the more dependent upon hand methods and NOT their corporate counterparts.

Mexicans that are here illegally are costing us billions of dollars in social welfare programs and health care and they pay practically nothing in taxes or social security!

I can assure you that the number of "illegals" receiving welfare is practically non-existent because of the scrutiny that social service departments render to producing proper "paperwork" and, even if it was NOT practically non-existent, the amount of money "donated" to F.I.C.A. (Soc. Sec.) by "illegals" who will never EVER collect retirement benefits in this country, would MORE than offset it... WAY more... Most Mexicans who come here to work “illegally” simply return to Mexico when their working days come to an end. They do NOT collect Social Security benefits because there is NO SOCIAL SECURITY IN THEIR COUNTRY!

Income taxes are somewhat "easy" to get out of if one desires to by claiming many dependants on one's W-2; HOWEVER, Social Security payments don't work that way! I can assure you that employers (ESPECIALLY those who employ illegal workers) DO NOT WANT the scrutiny of the Federal Government and will do WHATEVER THEY MUST to avoid it -- and there are few infractions that would bring that unwanted scrutiny down upon them FASTER than NOT maintaining quarterly deposits into FICA accounts!

Social Security is going downhill FAST (mostly because it now pays for conditions and situations that it was never meant to pay for) but, it is not suffering because of the Mexicans who are here illegally, in truth, it’s probably the payments that they are now making into it and not collecting on that is keeping the whole thing afloat right now! Eliminate their contributions and I’m afraid the Social Security benefits we now enjoy would evaporate in short order. . .

The influx of illegal aliens is overburdening our hospitals and health care systems!

Hospitals in this country are indeed in trouble but, the percentage of that problem caused by "illegals who don't pay their bills" can't even come CLOSE to matching the deficit that has been caused by our appalling lack of health insurance or nationalized health care for the middle, lower-middle and lower classes in this country OR the astronomical inflation of hospitalization and medical care costs over the last 30 years for which hospital administration salaries, pharmaceutical companies and the cost of malpractice insurance in our "sue happy" society can take the lion's share of the blame...

Let us examine, for the moment, one of the main problems behind this whole issue: Immigration quotas.

The quotas as they are allotted to different countries are impossibly (and haphazardly, it appears) skewed -- giving countries that are very distant from the U.S. with populations with very few of the skills that (percentage wise) we need here a disproportionate amount of allowed immigration while leaving Mexico and the Central American countries holding the short end of the stick.

Consider Canada that also shares a common border with us and the way in which citizens of that country are allowed to skip over the border with little in the way of scrutiny and then turn toward our southern border and compare the hoops that Mexican citizens (even those with legitimate work visas) must jump through every day in their journeys back and forth over the border --  "journeys", I might add, that will find their destinations at job sites where these travelers will, most likely, be performing back-breaking farm labor, cleaning our toilets, mowing our lawns and pruning our hedges, digging our ditches, taking care of our children and sweating over sewing machines to assemble our clothing in crowded, hot warehouses.

I can assure you that massive numbers of Mexican citizens who are of a mind that they "can't wait to get out of Mexico", "want nothing more than to come to the U.S." because they are "looking for free handouts" do NOT exist. They love their country as much as we love ours -- "Mexico, linda y quierida!" (Trans: "Mexico, beautiful and beloved!") goes a very old Mexican saying. Their government, however, has NO social programs. Not only is there no "welfare" (for, say, single mothers with young children) there is NO social security for their aged and schooling past the 3rd grade is financially unobtainable for most of them.

If one's children or aged parents or grandparents were hungry, one would be capable of committing many "illegal" acts to feed them -- up to and including swimming the Rio Grande, I’m quite sure...

A seldom-mentioned additional consideration is the treaty that ended the Mexican-American War.

The reason that we don't have some Pancho Villa still running sorties across our southern border knocking over banks, robbing trains and kicking up a general ruckus in Texas, New Mexico, Arizona and California (as we did back around the turn of the last century), is partly due to the TERMS of that treaty wherein, among other concessions, WE (meaning the federal government of the USA) PROMISED to maintain open borders with Mexico in those states previously mentioned as well as BILINGUAL EDUCATION, social & civic services, signage, etc.

TO CLOSE our common border with Mexico in those states puts us IN VIOLATION OF THE TREATY which not only opens up the whole "Pancho Villa Can of Worms" but, TECHNICALLY, plunges us BACK into an open and DECLARED WAR with Mexico...

I was married to an "illegal alien" for quite a few years (he, of course, became "legal" after we married) and I can tell you that the odds within "the system" (i.e., Immigration & Naturalization, Dept. of Justice, Social Services, Education, and a myriad of others...) are already quite stacked against minorities.

Yes, unfortunately, it still goes on and, no, it doesn't seem to have improved within my lifetime.

It amazes me to read comments from otherwise “good Americans” with statements similar to this one:

“The U.S. can’t just open its borders and let all of these people in.”

I’m sorry but that is EXACTLY what “America” is SUPPOSED TO DO! “Letting people in” is our heritage, our tradition and the basic principle that our country was founded upon. After all, somebody let in OUR immigrant ancestors -- unless, of course, the person making that statement is a full-blooded American Indian (but I doubt they would be. . . besides, they’re a little late).

New Boss -- Old Boss

Nov. 17, 2010:

Rep. Joe Barton (R, TX) Receives Majority Recommendation for Chair of House Energy and Commerce Committee

 

...Meet the new boss, same as the old boss...
        -- (The Who, "Won't Get Fooled Again")


As Conservatives celebrate the rapidly-approaching Reagan-esque "morning in America again" next year when the Republican Party takes a majority in the U.S. Senate, it appears that not much will be changing in the House of Representatives.

Yesterday, Representative Michael Burgess (R, TX), along with such peers as Reps. Marsha Blackburn (R, TN) and Steven Scalise (R, LA), sent a letter to their colleagues lending their support for incoming Chair of the House Energy and Commerce Committee to Rep. Joe Barton (a position which he holds in the present 111th Congress).

It will be recalled that, during hearings on climate-change adaptation by the House Subcommittee on Energy and Environment in March of 2009, Rep. Barton lent his support to an argument by his colleague Rep. John Shimkus (R-IL) that global warming is a product of "natural variations" and that a significant reduction of carbon-dioxide in the atmosphere might "take plant food away" because our planet is "carbon-starved".

Only weeks before those hearings, Rep. Barton deftly demonstrated either his flamboyant and colorful imagination, appalling lack of scientific knowledge or, perhaps, simply his office's severe staffing need for fact-checkers when he said:

Wind is God's way of balancing heat. Wind is the way you shift heat from areas where it's hotter to areas where it's cooler. That's what wind is. Wouldn't it be ironic if in the interest of global warming we mandated massive switches to an energy [wind], which is a finite resource, which slows the winds down and causes the temperature to go up? Now, I'm not saying that's going to happen, Mr. Chairman, but that is definitely something on the massive scale. I mean, it does make some sense. You stop something, you can't transfer that heat, and the heat goes up. It's just something to think about.

(Supressing my immediate impulse to launch into a litany of  "Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?" jokes) like many of Barton's utterings, the above seems to lend some legitimacy to an argument which suggests that the 62% home-schooling (K-12) and 55% high school drop-out rates of the largest county in Barton's home 6th District and Barton's election by popular vote in the first place are facts that are not entirely unrelated (along with the fact that 80+% of scientists are registered Democrats...).

Also troubling are major donations to Barton's campaign coffers and the Barton Family Foundation (Executive Director: Amy Barton -- Rep. Joe Barton's daughter-in-law) by energy producing corporations such as Chicago's nuclear power producer, Exelon Corp.

In the broader view, Barton's somewhat illogical arguments are not helped by the "reinforcement" provided by his political colleagues and the Republican Party's rather "unscientific" choices when opportunities arise to present speakers ("experts") from time to time in hearings on various environmentally-related subjects...

Most notably, during the March climate-change adaptation hearings, when invited to call experts to speak, rather than draw from the global pool of those employed in the environmental sciences, the GOP chose to select those distinctly lacking in these disciplines.

One such speaker was E. Calvin Beisner of the Cornwall Alliance for the Stewardship of Creation, whose logic -- even as regards theologically-related subjects -- appears to be severely flawed.

Mr. Beisner argued that, because the Bibical world-view sees "the world and its ecosystems as the work of a wise God", the actions of humankind cannot possibly have cataclysmic repercussions.

If extended to a logical conclusion, his hypothesis would appear to cast serious doubts upon the veracity of the story of Noah and the Flood (perhaps, even upon the Bible itself).

For, if (as the Bible asserts) the Great Deluge was unleashed by God in response to His perception of an increasing "wickness" in the hearts, minds and actions of mankind, then it MUST be conceded that human actions can indeed cause profound and cataclysmic climactic changes by the very nature of their influence upon God's reactions ("negative reactions", certainly and -- although not documented in the Bible -- hopefully "positive reactions", as well) in response to those actions.

Least one come away with the perception that the clergy in its entirety suffers from a distinct lack of scientific understanding or sense of responsibility for the impact of human-generated pollution on world climates, in contrast, the Democrat-invited Bishop Callon Holloway of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, speaking on behalf of the National Council of Churches at the hearing, emphasized the twin values of "stewardship and justice" in both protecting the Earth from harm and a sense of responsibilty for the well-being of the large percentage of the population who are not wealthy enough to hold controlling interests in energy-generating corporations.

The (at minimum, "questionable") selection of Mr. Beisner by the GOP to give testimony was not mitigated by some of its other choices:

Another GOP-called speaker with an apparent complete lack of environmental science background was Lord Christopher Monckton (former advisor to Margaret Thatcher and presently chief policy adviser to the Science & Public Policy Institute, group with a history demonstrating huge amounts of skepticism toward human-generated global warming theory).

Without one iota of documented proof, Lord Monckton alluded to a "mass exodus" from the State of California (ostensibly due to its more stringent environmental restrictions on businesses than those of other states) despite actual figures showing California's continued growth and the fact that the number of residents leaving the state each year only very SLIGHTLY exceeds the number coming into it.

The increasing influence of Christian fundamentalism upon the Republican Party -- combined with a tendency on the part of American voters to misidentify the actual sources of unpopular political and governmental practices -- is a cause for concern. Present circumstances call for moderates and liberals alike to maintain an increasingly observant and cautionary posture in regard to environmental issues and other concerns traditionally associated with their interests. 

California's Contrary Drummer

It was a night of tides... A night of the ebbs and flows of human social and political affairs... A night of change on a grand scale... It was the kind of night that many Americans will long remember, debate and, later, reminisce about.

Painted with the broadest brush, the theme of last night was this:

The Republican Party which, up until 2006, held a majority in both the legislative and executive branches of our national government made a decisive and highly vocal protest against the policies and ideals of the recently-installed Democratic Administration with a veritable avalanche of popular votes that thusly gained for it a majority of the executive and legislative seats that were up for grabs in the election.

Democratic Speaker of the House since the last turning of the power-party worm which took place during the height of the most recent "Progressive Depression" of the latter portion of the Bush Administration in 2006, Nancy Pelosi, is now to be deposed in favor of a Republican Majority; however, the reverberations of election night's powerplay are being felt all over the nation on every level, local and national, of the electoral spectrum.

EXCEPT, that is, in my home of California.

We Californians are used to marching to a completely different drummer than the rest of the Union. After all, our great state has been a virtual sanctuary of Liberal individualism since the days of the Gold Rush -- culminating in the "Great Hippy Migration" of the 1960's, the issues of Gay Rights and same-sex marriage and the movement to decriminalize marijuana.

"...For those who come to San Francisco,
be sure to wear some flowers in your hair.
If you come to San Francisco,
you're gonna meet some gentle people there..."

And, once again, it would seem, in points scored for sheer contrariness if nothing else, my beloved Golden State did not disappoint. For, last night, as the rest of the Progressive-nation lamented the recent turn of political events, we of Liberal California were awash in a wave in of congratulatory confetti.

In what was, in the opinion of this unashamed and unabashed, self-confessed Liberal, the most heart-warming and deserved victory of election night, former California Governor, Democrat Jerry Brown once again donned the laurel wreath of our state's highest office. This particular Democratic gain is admittedly close to my own heart, for it was in the days of my youth in the mid-1970s that a population grown weary of the elitist and uncharitable policies of former Governor Ronald "Pull Yourself Up by Your Bootstraps [That Is, If You Can Still Afford Boots After My Administration]" Reagan voted into office a guy who, rather than live in the opulence of the hundreds of millions of dollars' worth of Reagan-constructed Governor's Mansion, kept his $400/month bachelor-pad in downtown Sacramento and declined Reagan-preferred limousine rides in favor of driving his own glacial-blue, '74 Plymouth Satellite (no options) around town.

In those years, Jerry Brown (whom Conservative nay-sayers dubbed "Governor Moonbeam" for his alleged relationship with singer Linda Ronstadt -- an extremely PETTY, ungracious and undeserved bit of rhetoric, IMHO) won me over lock, stock and philosophic barrel by appointing advisers like the United Farm Workers Union's then-President, the Gandhi-like, Cesar Chavez.

Since that time, I have always (with an accompanying admiring smile) referred to him affectionately as "Mah MAN JER-reeeee!"

For me personally, Jerry Brown is the Alpha and Omega of California politics and politicians and I find it only fitting that he should be both the youngest person ever elected to California's governorship AND the oldest...

And California's swim against the political tide of this night did not end with its race for governor, either...

Last night, Californians dealt another setback to Conservatism in the form of the overwhelming re-election of Senator Barbara Boxer.

I find the cyclic nature of California politics almost "Zen-like", for, back when Jerry Brown last claimed the same object of last night's victory, Barbara Boxer was merely  a young aide-de-camp to Rep. John L. Burton who is presently California's Democratic Party Chair and Jerry Brown's campaign manager.

And no homage to the night's distinctly politically-Progressive victories here in California could be complete without a large nod to the imminently-anticipated election to the office of Lt. Governor of the frankly-Liberal, physically attractive, well-dressed and well-spoken (now to be "former", I would suppose) Mayor of San Francisco, Gavin Newsom.

Gavin literally learned the trade at the knee of Jerry Brown and other longtime Progressive California politicians like: (Another former SF mayor) the flamboyant Willie Brown; the unrelentingly Liberal, former SF City Supervisor, Quentin Kopp; and (at the risk of sounding nearly unbelievably redundant) Rep. John L. Burton.

The political sentiment of Gavin's past public pronouncement regarding California Proposition 8 ("same-sex marriage" bill) of "...it's going to happen, whether you like it or not...", while decidedly unpopular in Conservative quarters, was spoken like a true adherent to the United States Constitution.

Whether the Right Wing agrees or disagrees with legal endorsement of same-sex marriage will make little difference to the eventual record of American history because, in the final analysis, discrimination against any class or segment of our population based upon a state (or "states") of being not merely dictated by personal preferences alone constitutes a violation of The Constitution's most basic principles relating to civil rights. Just as previous, blatantly-subjective laws designed to uphold a particular segment of the population's opinions of morality were doomed (eventually) to failure when examined under the revealing light of the Bill of Rights (e.g., racially "mixed" marriage, school segregation, etc.), so must recent attempts to legislate discrimination against same-sex civil unions be similarly (eventually) doomed.

Gavin had it right. There can really BE no other conclusion to the issue as far as Constitutional Law is concerned and I applaud his public candor in expressing it.

Then there is the almost surreal serendipity of the recent San Francisco Giants' World Series win (the first such victory since the franchise moved to the West Coast from New York in the 1950s) -- ANOTHER seemingly oddly-timed cause for Progressively-oriented California to celebrate last night in the midst of the nation's Conservatives' elation -- but, hey, to me it's just another riff in the vast repertoire of California's contrary drummer...

The Night I Taught 'The Sisters' to Cha-Cha...

I sat down at the counter in the Denny’s restaurant where my best friend and college roommate, Joni, worked the swing shift. She poured me a cup of coffee and brought a cup of hot chocolate, too, so I could mix the two and make “mocha java”. Then she fixed me a green salad, set it before me and left the check with only the one cup of coffee totaled on it -- just like she always did. . .

“Are you in the mood to go dancing somewhere after work?” I asked her.

“Nah… I’m too tired,” she said, shaking her head, “It’s been a madhouse around here all night and, besides, I’ve got to study for a geology test tomorrow.”

This bit of news put a severe damper on my plans for the evening since the only car we had between us belonged to Joni.

“That’s too bad,” I said disappointedly as I ate my salad, “Because I really feel like going someplace.”

“Hey, you know, my friend Slim, the keyboard player over at the Hilltopper, is here,” Joni interjected as she passed by on one of her trips to get a pot of coffee from the warmer, “I’ve known him for quite a while. He’s a really nice guy and he goes out a lot.”

I glanced down the counter in the direction she was gesturing. Sitting on the last stool at the end of the counter was a tall, slender, young, black man who was extremely well-dressed.

“Is that him?” I asked.

“Uh-huh,” she nodded as she filled my cup, “Want me to ask him?”

“Sure,” I said hopefully, “Why not?”

Joni shuffled off and the two of them spoke for a moment after which the young man picked up his coffee cup, walked over and sat down on the stool next to me, extending his hand.

“Hi, you’re Joni’s friend, Jean, right?” he said warmly.

“That’s right,” I responded, shaking his hand, “You must be Slim. Joni speaks highly of you.”

“That’s nice to know,” he said, smiling broadly, “You know, I was just sitting over there thinking I’d really like to go somewhere and hear somebody else play music for a change when Joni came over, told me her best friend, Jean, was here and said you wanted to go out but didn’t have anybody to go with. Funny, huh?”

“Oh, that’s right,” I affirmed, nodding, “Joni mentioned that you’re a musician over at the Hilltopper.”

“Five nights a week,” he added, “I play piano in the lounge.”

We sat for about half an hour at the counter -- talking and enjoying each other’s company while downing two or three more cups of coffee -- before deciding to leave.

“Slim seems like a really cool person,” I whispered in Joni’s ear as I gave her a hug on our way out, “I’ll see you back at the house later.”

“Have a good time,” she called as Slim and I walked out the door.

“So,” Slim declared as he turned the key in the ignition, “Where would you like to go?”

“Oh, I don’t really care,” I replied, “What did you have in mind?”

“Well,” he pondered, “There’s some really good music around but, most of it’s down in the East Bay or San Francisco. . . Do you feel like going that far?”

“Sure!” I replied eagerly, “Besides, it’s your car and you’re doing all the driving -- all I have to do is sit back and enjoy the scenery!”

***************************************

Less than an hour later, we were traversing the Richmond/San Rafael Bridge on our way to the “Lucky 13 Club” in Albany, California.

The Lucky 13 Club had its beginnings during the heyday of Soul music in the mid-sixties when radio station KDIA out of Oakland (“Lucky 1300 on your AM radio dial”) was belting out the hits of artists like Wilson Pickett, Sam and Dave, Smokey Robinson, Aretha Franklin, James Brown and Marvin Gaye to a large audience -- both black and white -- all over the San Francisco Bay area.

The parking lot of the unassuming cinder-block building housing the Lucky 13 Club was packed and it took about twenty minutes to find a place to park as, from inside, the funky, deep, sound of a bass, accompanied by screaming vocals, spilled out into the street.

I had little hope we’d find a table when I saw how crowded the place was but, after exchanging a few words with one of the doormen, Slim miraculously secured a couple of seats at a table centered in front of the stage. This meant, of course, that polite conversation was out of the question. So, we settled for tapping our toes, nodding to the beat of the music and the occasional exchange of a smile in each other’s direction.

After a few minutes, Slim leaned over and shouted into my ear: “I didn’t think this place would be so crowded tonight. There’s almost no room to dance here and that’s what you really wanted to do, wasn’t it?”

“It’s cool,” I assured him, “I can go with the flow -- whatever. . .”

By the time we’d finished our drinks, however, it was obvious that Slim was quickly tiring of the loud music and crowded atmosphere.

“Let’s go find someplace less crowded,” he confided to me during the break, “What do you think?”

“Sure,” I replied, “That’s cool, too.”

“A good friend of mine owns a little place off 3rd Street,” Slim explained, “It’s not too crowded and a lot of musician friends of ours hang out after hours and jam. I think you’d really like the people there.”

“Terrific,” I declared, “Sounds good!” and, within a few minutes, we were on Highway 880 taking the turn-off for the Bay Bridge into San Francisco.

***************************************

San Francisco’s 3rd Street runs south from the Embarcadero through the large “lower Market Street” industrial area. It wasn’t long before we were parking the car at the curb in front of a shabby building with a neon sign out front that read “Midnight Hour”.

We’d barely entered the front door when Slim was hailed in a friendly manner by several of the bar’s patrons and a distinguished, older, black gentleman with white hair, moustache and beard dashed out from behind the bar to greet him.

“Where you been keepin’ yourself, brother?” the older man chuckled as he shook Slim’s hand wholeheartedly, “We ain’t laid eyes on you for a month of Sundays!”

“Oh, you know how it is,” Slim answered, shuffling his feet slightly and smiling, “Workin’ all the time. I don’t get a chance to come down to the city much anymore.”

“And who is this lovely creature you have brought with you, my man?” the older man gushed, stepping back to make a visual, head-to-toe assessment of me.

“This is Jean” Slim beamed, “And, Jean, this is a very good friend of mine for many years, Joe.”

“Well, now, any friend of Slim’s is very welcome here,” Joe assured me as he briefly shook my hand. “Especially such a fine, young lady as yourself,” he added with a wink.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Joe,” I replied demurely.

We seated ourselves at the bar with a couple of drinks (for which Joe absolutely refused to be paid) where Slim introduced me to several more people who all seemed to be genuinely glad to see both of us. Then, I turned my attention to the bandstand where a jazz quartet was playing “Satin Doll”.

From the gestures made by some of the band members in Slim’s direction, I could tell that they all knew each other quite well and, when the number ended, the keyboard player announced that he was going to take a break and “call one of the finest keyboard players I know, Slim Peabody, to come up and sit in for a while.”

Slim turned to me and asked, “Will you be all right if I jam with the band for a little bit?”

“Completely!” I replied with a wide smile, “You were so right about this place, Slim! It has wonderful, friendly vibes -- I feel right at home here!”

“I knew you would!” he exclaimed before walking over to the bandstand and taking up a position at the keyboard.

Several “sisters” joined me and we talked and laughed like old friends -- exchanging views on every subject from fashion to music -- and I suddenly realized that I felt more at-ease and welcome sitting there at that bar than I remembered feeling in any club, anywhere, at any time before in my life!

The company was warm and genuine, the drinks were generous and generously-supplied and the music was fantastic. . .

At about 2:00 am, Joe announced that he was locking the front door and only friends and family were being invited to remain for the “private party” that could, he estimated, last into the wee hours. My new-found girlfriends insisted Slim and I both stay and join the party -- and we did.

*****************************************

After a jamming on a couple of other jazz numbers, Slim and the band then struck up a tune with a distinctly “Latin flavor”. Suddenly, the many hours that I spent as a young child, watching my mother give Latin dance lessons at the Arthur Murray Studios in downtown San Francisco, boiled to the surface.

I jumped to my feet and began dancing the “Cha-Cha” to the lush, syncopated rhythms ringing from the walls of the tiny bar.

In another moment, I was surrounded by all of the “sisters” I’d just met and each one was clamoring for me to teach her how to do the Cha-Cha.

As I moved my feet, I began counting-off as I had seen my mother do hundreds of times:

One-and-two-and-cha-cha-cha! One-and-two-and-cha-cha-cha! Right-foot-back-step-cha-cha-cha! Left-foot-front-step-cha-cha-cha!

One by one, in a line behind me, the women fell into step as they picked up the rhythm:

Step-together-step-together-cha-cha-cha! Step-together-step-together-cha-cha-cha!

When I was confident that they were all in step, I changed the configuration and called out over the volume of the music:

Now-we’ll-try it-from-side-to-side! Left-foot-cross-RIGHT-cha-cha-cha! Right-foot-cross-LEFT-cha-cha-cha! Step-right-back-together-cha-cha-cha! Step-left-back-together-cha-cha-cha!

I turned my head briefly and was thrilled to see about a dozen, beautiful, graceful, smiling, “Nubian” women, young and old, dancing the Cha-Cha behind me in perfect step.

At that point, I halted my verbal instruction and we continued to dance just like that -- me in front and the other women strung out in a line behind me -- until the band brought the song to a close.

Slim and I headed home that morning at about daybreak... I have treasured the memory of that evening for many, many years.

The Hospitality of the Homeless

I don't know why I was driving down River Road... I suppose it was because, up until a couple of years before that, my best friend, Joni, lived in the little town of Rio Nido on the Russian River and that's where I always wound up seeking sanctuary after having an argument with my husband.

After storming out of the house in a distressed state that evening about five years ago and jumping into my old '72 Ford Econoline van, I suppose I'd momentarily forgotten that she didn't live there anymore and didn't realize it until after I'd turned onto River Road -- I don't know...

I do know that it was cold that night -- unbelievably cold for my home of Sonoma County in Northern California -- even for December.

I slowed down once the realization hit me that I didn't have anywhere to go and only a few dollars to get there.

Maybe I would drive out to the coast and camp overnight in my van. There were certainly more uncomfortable vehicles one could have for such a plan and my sleeping bag and pillow were in the back. One thing was certain: I didn't have sufficient funds to buy enough gas to get me to Lake County (about a hundred miles away) to Joni's new place.

That's when my headlights fell upon two figures. As I got closer, I could see they were both men, about my same age, dressed in slightly disheveled work clothes who were standing on the side of the road with their thumbs out, trying to hitch a ride. Judging from the backpack one of them was carrying, they were homeless.

No one's going to give these two a ride, I thought, and it's so cold out there.

I pulled off on the shoulder of road ahead of them. They dashed toward the passenger side door but demurred when they saw me in the driver's seat. I motioned for them to open the door since there was no way I could reach the door handle.

"Come on, get in," I beckoned, "It's cold out there."

Looking nervous, they climbed in.

"I only have one seat for passengers," I told them, "So one of you will have to sit on the floor in the back."

"That's fine," said the more gregarious one of the two, rubbing his hands together, "Gee, it's nice and warm in here."

"Yep, there's nothing wrong with the old Econoline's heater, that's for sure," I replied as I checked for cars in my rear view mirror and pulled out into the flow of traffic, "Where you guys headed?"

"We're trying to get to Monte Rio. By the way, I'm Jack and that's Will," the one in the passenger seat said as he extended his open hand across to me.

"I'm Jean," I said, shaking his hand.

"Well, thanks a lot for stopping for us, Jean," he replied, "We sure do appreciate it."

"It's too cold tonight for anybody to be stuck out there hitching," I said, shaking my head, "But, you know, Monte Rio's 'do-able'. I'll take you all the way there, if you want."

"Wow," Jack gushed, "That would be just great!"

"No problem," I countered, "I really wasn't headed anywhere in particular anyway."

"Just out for a drive, huh?" Jack queried in a friendly tone.

"Something like that," I answered, "Actually, I just had a fight with my husband and I really don't want to go back home for a while..."

"Oh," he responded, looking thoughtful, "That's too bad."

"Aw, no biggie," I reassured him, "We'll get over it -- we always do."

It turned out that Jack and his friend Will were headed to the little river town of Monte Rio to try and collect some wages owed to them by a man who lived there before they returned to the homeless encampment where they'd been living in the somewhat larger river town of Guerneville. They'd been trying to collect from the guy for about two weeks with no luck but thought they'd have a better chance during the evening hours when the man would most likely have returned home from work.

"If you want, I can take you to Monte Rio to the guy's house and then give you a ride back to Guerneville, too -- seeing as how my dance card is pretty empty this evening," I joked.

"Oh, you don't have to go to all that trouble," Jack responded.

"I know but, I hate to think of you guys out here in the freezing cold at night trying to get a ride -- especially since I don't have anything better to do anyway," I replied.

"You are a very kind lady," Jack responded, smiling.

The truth was that having this "mission" to accomplish gave me something to think about besides the unkind words that had passed between my husband and me earlier in the evening and the act of doing something nice for someone (who was even worse off than I was) was making me feel better.

After collecting a few dollars from the man in Monte Rio while I waited in the van, Jack and Will got back in and we set out for Guerneville.

"So where's the camp in Guerneville?" I inquired.

"It's down on the riverbank behind the Safeway," Jack replied, "But we were going to go to the 7-11 store and get some things first. Do you want anything from the store? Some chips or a beer or something? It'd be the least we could offer after you went out of your way and drove us around and everything..."

"You know, a beer sure sounds good," I responded, "I think I'll just take you up on that offer."

"Great!" Jack said as he flashed a broad smile to the very Saturnine Will in the back of the van.

As we waited in the van in the parking lot of the Guerneville 7-11 for Will to finish his shopping, I turned to Jack:

"What's up with Will? I mean, how come he never says anything?"

"Oh, it's because of the War," Jack replied, "Will's a Viet Nam Vet, you know... It really affected him."

"PTSD?" I asked.

"Yeah, he's still pretty messed up," Jack mumbled sadly.

"I know all about PTSD," I reassured him, "My husband is 100% disabled with it from being the door-gunner and crew chief of a Huey in the First Cav, '68-'69."

We grew suddenly silent as Will approached and got back into the van. Then, I started the van back up and drove across the street to the rear parking lot of the Safeway store.

"Hey!" Jack interjected, turning toward me, "You wanna come down to our camp and meet everybody? Maybe hang out for a little while with us?"

Seeming to read the apprehension I was feeling on my face, he added, "You don't have to worry about a thing. Will and I will defend you with our lives if need be. Won't we, Will?"

His expression never changing, the inscrutable Will nodded briefly -- twice.

"I guarantee that nobody's going to bother you down there while we're around. We'll make absolutely certain of it," Jack added.

I got the distinct impression that introducing me around to their friends at the encampment would give them some kind of elevated social status somehow -- and, besides, who was I to refuse their hospitality? The bottom line was that I was curious to see for myself what their homeless camp was like and didn't have anyplace else to go, really...

"Well, with you guys as my escorts, I guess it would be okay," I drawled slowly, "Sure! Why not?"

I parked, grabbed my jacket and locked up the van. Then, the three of us negotiated the narrow trail down the embankment to the river with Jack leading the way and the quiet Will behind. We passed by several small tents before finally arriving at a large, olive-drab, army-surplus, canvas tent that had a huge bonfire burning in front of it.

"Here it is!" Jack quipped, "Home sweet home! Dennis must've got the fire going before he took off for the evening and, boy, am I glad! It's been freezing cold these last few nights."

"I'll say," I agreed -- zipping my leather jacket up to my chin.

"Here," Jack offered, "Get right up here next to the fire and I'll get you something to sit on."

He returned a moment later rolling a tree-round in front of him.

"Here ya go!" he said as he positioned the small stump close to the fire, "You can sit on this and be warm."

Then, Will spoke for the first time during the evening's escapade.

"I'll go scare up some more firewood," he said flatly -- before disappearing into the dark tangle of brush surrounding the camp.

Jack and I passed the time talking about everything, and nothing, while drinking our beers and munching on Doritos from a shared sack. Every few minutes my behind would get so cold that I couldn't stand it anymore and I would start shivering uncontrollably. At those intervals, I'd turn my backside around to the fire to warm it up before turning back around to face the flames and Jack, on the other side of the bonfire, to continue our conversation.

Intermittently over the next few hours, several acquaintances of the men and other homeless campers whose "digs" were nearby came and went from the bonfire. Jack introduced each of them to me and I found them all -- without exception -- pleasant, polite and seemingly genuinely glad to make my acquaintance.

Will returned sometime later with more firewood and tossed much of it into the bonfire (an act for which I'm sure Jack was as grateful as I was).

It was nearly dawn when I decided that I simply couldn't stand the cold anymore and asked Jack and Will to walk me back up to my van in the Safeway parking lot.

"Why don't you both come inside and warm up before I have to go?" I asked them, "I'll let the motor idle with the heater on full blast," and we sat there for 15 or 20 minutes, listening to the radio.

Stretching out on the carpeting in the back of the van, Will spoke for only the second time that night:

"This van wouldn't be too bad to live in," he uttered in a low voice, "You know, for a while..."

The sun was up by the time I arrived back home. By then, I'd cooked up another "mission" for myself, went directly into the bedroom and started rummaging around in the closet.

"What are you doing?" my husband queried with a puzzled look on his face.

So, I told him all about Jack and Will and the homeless encampment...

"I'm going to go through all of my clothes and pull out every jacket, sweatshirt and sweater I own that I don't wear that often," I told him, "And, then, I'm going to drive immediately back to Guerneville and give them all to the people at the camp."

"Wait a minute," my husband replied, "I've got a couple of sweatshirts and jackets I don't wear all that much, either, anymore... I'll go with you."

To My Daughter: My Best Parenting Advice

My Darling Daughter:

In this letter, I'm going to offer to you my best advice on being a parent...

This is my best effort at summarizing all of the things that I learned from being your parent plus all of the things that I have observed about being a parent from many different sources over the course of my entire lifetime.

I'm going to try to put these things in order of what I perceive to be their importance. (I said I'm going to TRY to do that) but, I sincerely believe with all my heart that, if you try in earnest always to keep them uppermost in your mind, they will help you be the kind of parent that I know you WANT to be, help your child be the kind of person YOU want THEM to be and help your child be the kind of person THEY will want to be when they grow into adulthood.

No. 1: There is no substitute for your time and attention.

I can tell you that all the widescreen color TVs in the world, all the fanciest Nintendo games, all the coolest cellphones and endless Disney DVDs ever manufactured will never, ever replace all of the rewards that they (and YOU) will realize for the hours that you spend with them -- directly supervising them and sharing your thoughts, feelings, personal history, fears, joys and wishes with them.

You will be a young, first-time mother -- working to keep a roof over your and your child's heads and food on the table… Sometimes you will be so exhausted from work and spending all the hours when you're not working running after a toddler that you will be starved for just a tiny bit of "me time". From the moment your baby is born, that child's demands on your time and attention will be constant. To some degree, you will feel as though any modicum of privacy and authority over even your own body has been stripped from you (as in the case of breast feeding).

You will come to the inescapable conclusion that you no longer have command over your life's priorities, your weekly schedule of activities or even the direction you had planned for your life.

Reinforcing the faintly disturbing feelings you will have that a "new regime" has now taken over will be the 3:00 am and 5:00 am feedings, the wet diapers that must be changed (and the ones that you can't tell if they're wet or not that STILL must be changed), the "fussy times" (that sometimes go on for hours) when your baby will fuss and cry and you can find nothing wrong, the doctor appointments, the dentist visits, "parent/teacher nights", slumber parties, school clothes shopping trips, shelling out $50 for special shoes (when you only paid $19.99 for the best pair you own) for a two year-old who will wear them approximately 60 days, dilemmas over where you should live (you can afford that apartment but is the neighborhood safe for your child?) and countless thousands of OTHER taxing demands upon your finances, time and energy.

There will be many, many times when you will be sorely tempted to allow the TV or computer to "babysit" -- just to have a few minutes for yourself just to think or put your feet up. I have to tell you, though, that, every hour your child spends withOUT you means another couple of emotional "inches" that will eventually come between you and him/her and, after a time, the distance between you will be so great that you will have to expend a hundred times more energy and effort to bring your child close again.

No. 2: WATCH THEM EVERY MINUTE!

When they are very small (say, from birth to about 5 years old), you must have your eyeballs right ON THEM, ALL OF THE TIME, during those times when they are under your sole care. You CANNOT simply put them in a playpen and go off into another room to catch up on your "soaps". You CANNOT believe you have "baby proofed" your house sufficently to be able to allow them to run around without any fear of injury or something being broken or destroyed. You cannot leave them in the bathtub to run and answer the phone for a second. You must have them IN your line of sight the ENTIRE time because children will find some way that you never, ever expected them to find and create disaster!

They will find the "chink" in your imagined "armor" and take advantage of it. They will find the ONE electrical plug you forgot to cover, the ONE bottle of bleach you THOUGHT you put away, the ONE pair of scissors or carving knife that you THOUGHT was out of their reach and they will find it IMMEDIATELY -- EVERY TIME!

If they can crawl or toddle, you must literally be on top of them at all times! You must anticipate WHAT they will reach for BEFORE they reach for it and HEAD them OFF before they get their hands on it.

No. 3: ANTICIPATE their behaviors and IMMEDIATELY REINFORCE the behavior you want them to display.

You must learn to recognize when their unsteady eyes begin to focus on some forbidden object and be ready, even as their tiny hand reaches out for it, to pull their hand away while reinforcing "this is something we don't touch" verbally.

Do this every time -- EVERY TIME -- and you will never have to yell at them or tell them, over and over again, not to do the same thing that you just told them 5 minutes ago NOT to do. In fact, the more times "no", "stop that" or "don't touch" escape your lips, the less likely they will be to listen to you because they will come to realize very, very quickly that they can ignore what you say the first 10 times (because you will repeat it) and that there are no "consequences" for defying your specific instructions.

This is really the "key" to raising a child who will not toddle out into oncoming traffic when you caution them, NOT reach up for the handle of a pot boiling on the stove on your word alone and who will eventually become a child who will LISTEN to you when you tell them not to get into a car with a drunken friend at the wheel (and call you to come get them and drive them home instead) -- a child that will take into serious consideration your best advice in any given situation and give you the benefit of the doubt because of the sum total of your vastly greater experience with life.

When they are very small, simply saying "back away from that heater before you burn yourself" will NOT WORK. You must SAY it AS you are picking them up and removing them physically at the same time. As you say "don't touch that!", be taking their little hand and bringing it down to their side at the same time. You will find that it won't take very long before you will be able to SAY "don't touch that" andtheir little hand will fall, automatically, to their side. But, it takes a LONG time AND it WON'T WORK WITHOUT No. 4:

No. 4: CONSISTENCY, CONSISTENCY, CONSISTENCY!!!

You must reinforce the behaviors you want consistently. Some behavior can't be forbidden one day and allowed the next due to "different circumstances". Small children have a very difficult time recognizing "different circumstances". Every transgression on their part must be handled the SAME WAY, EVERY DAY, EVERY TIME!

This means you will have to sit down and decide WHICH behaviors are WORTHY of the demands upon your energy and time IN ADVANCE -- and the "crime" must match the "punishment" the same way EVERY TIME. This also means you must CONSIDER what you say BEFORE you say it. Don't tell a child that the next time you hear a whine come out of their mouth, you will be picking them up by their heels and tying them to a tree-branch upside-down for an hour. Above ALL, you must FOLLOW THROUGH with what you say (promise) and, since THEY know as well as YOU do that you would never tie a child to a tree branch for an hour upside down, you CAN'T THREATEN them with it! Your WORD must be as consistent as the sun that rises each morning and sets each night. "You can take that to the bank" must become your watch words. What you say that you WILL DO, you MUST DO and, what you SAY will happen, MUST happen, EVERY SINGLE TIME!

After all, you don't want to be a LIAR and you don't want to RAISE a liar. So, you yourself, must NEVER LIE to them! They MUST believe that, if "Mom says X-result will happen if I exhibit X-behavior", it WILL HAPPEN.

This is in preparation for the time when that child will be AS BIG AS YOU ARE and their hormones will have them feeling pretty defiant towards you and authority in general. If, by that time, they do not have COMPLETE CONFIDENCE in the veracity of you and everything you say, YOU WILL lose them to alcohol, drugs, sexually transmitted diseases, etc. If they don't believe you when you say "if you have sex without a condom even ONE TIME, you risk contracting AIDS and DEATH", you WILL LOSE your child! They MUST believe that you KNOW what you're talking about and that you would NEVER lie to them. (There are very MINOR exceptions to this rule -- such as the fake "nervous condition" reaction that involuntarily caused my hands and arms to jerk out madly that I made you believe I had whenever I heard "whining" when you were a child. These "exceptions", however, must be VERY FEW and VERY FAR between!)

No. 5: You CAN'T "be their friend"!

Believe me when I tell you that any parent who says "I want my child to think of me as his/her buddy, not his/her parent" IS GOING TO REGRET IT later on! Children are very intelligent. They KNOW that they are not competent enough nor experienced enough to be an adult parent or an equal to one. Children MUST be CERTAIN, without a doubt, that YOU are the parent, the one who knows "the ways of the world" and the one "in charge" because -- knowing that they are not equipped to lead the family -- they become VERY INSECURE about themselves and the direction of their future existence if they ever start feeling as though you, the parent, don't know "what's going on here". They MUST have CONFIDENCE that their parent CAN and WILL see to their basic needs (food, place to sleep, etc.), that they are ABLE TO PROTECT THEM from the ills of the world that could hurt them and that their parents are doing THE BEST that can be done for them.

For, you see, a "buddy" wouldn't MAKE another "buddy" go get braces so they won't be embarrassed about the crooked teeth in their smile when they get older. A "buddy" wouldn't limit another buddy's intake of processed sugar to keep them from being a diabetic or obese, either. A "buddy" wouldn't tell them that they couldn't stay up late because they'll be late for school or tired in class tomorrow. Only a competent, determined, dedicated PARENT says those things and children KNOW that they NEED PARENTING!

There WILL come a time when you CAN be their "buddy". That will happen AFTER the child grows into adulthood.

No. 6: Don't sweat the small stuff!

Children cannot reasonably make many of the decisions that affect their lives because they are not equipped to do that until much later in life; therefore, all those little "details" -- all the nearly inconsequential decisions that we make every day (e.g.,"Should we go to McDonald's or Burger King for lunch?", "To the beach or the redwood forest for our vacation?", "Should I ask for the pink tee-shirt or the blue one?") -- are excellent times to give children an opportunity to "try out" decision making skills that they will need when they are older. It's good practice for them. Let them decide these "little things" whenever you can…

There's one BIG EXCEPTION to this rule, however: DON'T EVER put them in charge of decisions that could HURT them.

Instead of: "You can pick the snacks you want to eat this week" (which opens the door for them pick foods that aren't very good for them and you don't want them to get into the habit of eating), say something like: "You can choose between the cheese and crackers or some kind of fruit for snacks this week. Which one would you rather have?" This gives them the ego boost of being able to take at least a small PART of their destinies in their own hands but doesn't put them in harm's way.

No. 7: Teach them to take responsibility for themselves and their actions!

Don't make excuses for them! Don't let their acts of mischief/vandalism/hurtful behavior slide! MAKE them take responsibility! MAKE them APOLOGIZE to any wronged parties and then INSIST that they make their BEST ATTEMPT to compensate whomsoever they "wronged" with their actions (i.e., cleaning up their messes, working off paying for what they broke in maliciousness); however, you must not penalize them, EVER, for simple "accidents" that befall them that were plainly due to clumsiness, inexperience, etc. In determining which acts WERE "accidents" and which were done with maliciousness, however, you MUST BE HONEST with yourself AND with THEM and TRY as much as you possibly can to avoid the natural tendency all parents have to always believe the BEST about their childrens' actions and motivations which BLINDS parents and makes it impossible for them to view their childrens' actions with anything CLOSE to "impartiality". Don't automatically ASSUME: "Oh, no! MY little Johnny couldn't do THAT!" but, rather, always analyze and scrutinize your child's account of an event where damage was done to some party by some means by using dispassionate logic and always through the filter of the sum total of your life-experience.

Above all, be observant for "cues" (body language, eye contact, inflection) which could lead you to make a determination that your child just might not be totally forthcoming with the all of the variables involved or is trying to minimize his/her participation in negative behavior(s) in some way.

The question will not be whether you love your child or not. The question will be whether a natural tendency on the part of adolescents to defer responsibility for their negative behaviors by projecting it on other(s) is at work or not.

As a means of minimizing these times when you are forced to question the contribution of your child to a bad situation, always encourage them to:

* SHARE with others! This also means "pulling one's own weight" in any given situation. This includes not "slacking off" or shirking one's assigned duties so that OTHERS are forced to take on more than THEIR share of any responsibilities/duties/assignments that were rightfully YOUR CHILD'S responsibility to accomplish. The only time this should EVER happen is if your child is INCAPACITATED in some way (that was NOT of their own making) so that they are rendered INCAPABLE (physically, mentally, etc.) of accomplishing their own task(s) (e.g., mental retardation, a broken arm, contracted malaria or something similar).

IN FACT, your child should be very much ENCOURAGED by you to be the type of person who ACTIVELY SEEKS OPPORTUNITIES TO BE OF SERVICE to others whenever possible. To be the type of person who doesn't WAIT to be asked for their help but, rather, who is able to READILY IDENTIFY opportunities to be of service to others and then OFFERS their help FREQUENTLY and WILLINGLY.

* STAND UP and TAKE RESPONSIBILITY for the things they do that are plainly, morally WRONG and, first and foremost, reinforce the need to APOLOGIZE -- quickly and humbly -- for any of their actions that might have been hurtful to someone else!

* Try their very BEST to MAKE AMMENDS for any damages they may have caused as a result of their unacceptable, malicious/premeditated/mischievious acts!

Note, however, you must make it clear that there are some damages which CANNOT -- no matter how FAR one is willing to go or how much EFFORT one is willing to put into the task -- be mitigated. This is a fact of life. If he/she stomps on his/her friend's turtle and kills it, the turtle (no matter how MUCH your child might regret doing it) CANNOT be brought back to life. At times like these, all that one can do is offer their most profound apologies, remark that they are completely and utterly "in the wrong" -- maybe adding that they "don't know what came over them" -- and, perhaps, offer to purchase another turtle for the offended party. SOME things, however, once "broken", simply CANNOT be "fixed".

If you slack on these points, you will raise an irresponsible, nefarious, lazy adult whose future peers (school chums, co-workers, etc.) are going to say "Oh, no! Here comes HIM/HER!" (either behind his/her back or, eventually, right to his/her face)! You don't want that kind of hurt for your child… It hurts when people don't like you or avoid you because you don't take responsibility for your own actions or you're always making up excuses instead of doing your own work.

The MOST EFFECTIVE means, however, to get these points across to your child is BY LIVING THEM YOURSELF! Do NOT cheat on your taxes and then become indignant when your child cheats on a test. Do NOT tell your child it's wrong to smoke marijuana while having your third martini of the evening. Children SEE WHAT YOU DO and they absorb everything around them like tiny sponges with long-distance, super-sensitive antennae. If you don't want them to use profanity, don't swear around them. If you don't want them to be violent, don't hit them. CHILDREN LEARN BEST BY EXAMPLE -- YOURS!!!

No. 8: Hugs, hugs and MORE HUGS!

Never, EVER, withhold affection from your children! HUG them, KISS them -- even when they think they are "above that sort of thing" (and this WILL HAPPEN when they reach late adolescence/teenage years) -- OFTEN and without reservation! Take every opportunity to TELL them in NO UNCERTAIN TERMS that you LOVE them, you put them above everything and everyone else and you want only the best for them.

Make them understand -- whenever and however you possibly can -- how DEEPLY your love for them goes into your being and that your love for them is NOT contingent upon their physical appearance, their particular abilities/skills/gifts or their behavior or how they conduct themselves at any given moment.

If they are behaving very badly, you can (and you absolutely SHOULD) express your displeasure -- your "dislike" -- of the behavior but, the question of whether you love them or not SHOULD NEVER occur to them. There should be absolutely NO DOUBT in their minds that you love them, no matter WHAT they do.

Remember that "things" and "love" are not equals. "Things" are transitory... That cool game or outfit or car that they want will someday end up on a garbage heap but love is eternal. Similarly, don't ever allow YOUR feelings of guilt over decisions/situations that you were a part of but your children were not that, nonetheless, negatively affected them OVERRIDE your dealings with your children in regard to consistency, discipline and a sense of personal responsibility.

You may feel terribly guilty, for example, that you and your child's other parent sought a divorce but DO NOT use those feelings of guilt as an excuse to "welch" on your commitment to be consistent in your reinforcement of any of the areas I have outlined above. When you do, you completely destroy all of the work that you have put into the reinforcement of positive behavior and do your child a huge disservice. Stand firm. Stand tall. Stand confident and do all that you can to be the best example you can be for your child.

I love you... (But, then, you KNOW that! ;o) )

Mom