Judy's Turn

Thanks for the Giving

 Thanksgiving is one of those holidays that you grow to love more as you experience life. Although a lot of food is involved, it's also a time to look around the table and appreciate each member sitting at it. This Thanksgiving was extra special for us. Sam had arrived safely in Taipei for his 6 month studies, Leah was home from Humboldt, our niece and nephew were with us from Los Angeles and Becky seemed to finally be kicking the Mono (as in Nucleosis) that had beaten her down for over a month. 

Our table consisted of 14 people. Just two were not immediate family - Laurie and Dan. Laurie had been with us for Thanksgiving a few times, but this was the first time that Dan joined us. Dan has a PhD in Organic Chemistry and is a scientist at Gilead. He spent a lot of time talking to Becky at dinner and offered to help her with her backlog in Physics and Algebra. She came home from her first day back at school yesterday overwhelmed with the amount of work that she had missed (Junior year of high school) and said that she would indeed need to take Dan up on his offer. I told her to contact him, but to be aware that he had an important job and might not be able to come over this week. 

Dan is sitting at our table tonight (one day later) talking about acceleration and friction with Becky. This is after a 10 hour work day and the only payment he'll take is the knowledge that he helped Becky catch up with her studies. It is truly wonderful to hear them talking and I know back there in West Virginia where Dan grew up, there was someone special in his life raising him to be a good man.

I am constantly impressed by the goodness in the people that I meet and know that many Dans are working tonight helping others without any expectations in return. And, as an older "early adopter" of social communication products, I'm glad that I have the ability to let you know about this little slice of life. Let me know if you have a story to tell.

OKAY NOW FOR THE BIG DEALS I GOT TODAY WHILE HANGING OUT ON THE PENINSULA:

Fleur de sel Caramels from Trader Jacques (for those of you who need a translation - caramels with salt from Trader Joe's) -- $6.99 (really taste good - up front at the Hillsdale TJs)

Really beautiful boxed soaps from France and Italy at Tuesday Morning in San Mateo for $7.99 - I think they'll go fast. At the front of the San Mateo store just to the left of the cashier.

 

Listen to Your Customers

I've been going to the same nail salon in San Mateo for several years. I travel out of my neighborhood (where there are 4 nail salons on the main drag here) and am a loyal customer to Pinky Nails because the owner, Jennifer, understands her customers. When I call she answers the phone and I never have to identify myself. She hands me my favorite trash magazine when I enter the door and if she is not giving me a manicure, will rapidly give my preferences to the person who will be working with me. I don't need to say a thing. On Friday when I was having a manicure, she asked me if I was attending a party. I mentioned that I was going into San Francisco for a company Christmas party and she noted that I went to the same place last year. Then she asked after my children and remembered that there were two in college and reminded me that last time I came in I was with my youngest daughter. Her memory astounds me because I do not have frequent manicures and sometimes go months in between visits.

Because Jennifer is so in touch with her customers, they tend to care about her business. I noted that I was the only customer on a Friday afternoon before a big holiday party weekend and she had a ready answer for that. Many of her customers will be taking two weeks unpaid leave this Christmas season as companies are closing their doors to try to deal with the projected downturn in business again this year. Those customers now can't afford to come in to her shop. Hair and nail salons are suffering a lot this season. Jennifer is very concerned for her customers' financial stability beyond their ability to bring business into her shop. She worries about the other sacrifices that they are making this season. 

There's a lot of talk these days in bigger companies about listening to customers and responding to them with solutions that truly meet their needs. After spending so much time in local small businesses, I am surprised that it's considered a new idea. But I'm also happy that there is some hope to the outcome of my next call to AT&T or PG&E. I don't expect them to know my children or social schedule, but do want them to know that I am human. And I want to feel that they are too.

A Maker's Mark Moment

Twenty years ago tomorrow, the great Loma Prieta Earthquake shook the San Francisco Bay Area. Those of us who were here and experienced the earthquake told stories about it to each other for many months. We comforted our worried, far away family members who were horrified when they heard the Bay Bridge had collapsed (early reports were not quite accurate). Some of us were in boats on the Bay, in cars on the highways or sitting in the stands at the warm-up to the 3rd game of the World Series. The quake started at 5:04 pm local time and rumbled on for 15 seconds.

My family's story ended at about 3 am the next morning, with shots of Maker's Mark being shared between myself, my husband, and Dan - his coworker. We had started out the morning in a fairly typical way. I walked our 13 month old son up the street to his babysitter's house and drove my car into San Francisco, where I was working. My husband, an employee of Lotus Development Corporation at the time, was bound for a District off-site meeting. The group was going to enjoy a tremendous day on a boat on the San Francisco Bay and then several of them were going to catch the World Series game at Candlestick. The October weather was perfect - sunny and warm, almost still and quiet. What those of us who experienced Loma Prieta now call "earthquake weather." 

I left San Francisco that afternoon at about 3:30 pm and arrived home on the Peninsula around 4:15. When I got home, I received a call from a friend who needed to be picked up from her post operative knee surgery appointment at her physical therapist. After that I walked up the street to retrieve my son from his babysitter. She (Julie) was out shopping and had left her husband (Mike) in charge of the three kids - my son and their two daughters. They were out front in the yard playing when I arrived. I said hello to Mike and picked up my son. It must have been 5:04 pm because just as I said "what a beautiful day" everything started to shake. The street was literally moving up and down. Mike scooped up his little girls and we crowded together with our babies. I can remember Mike asking "what should we do?" as we watched the street undulate. As soon as the quake was over, Mike, who was a sheet metal contractor at the time, knew exactly what to do. He walked from house to house on the street, making sure that we all knew how to turn off our gas and helped us check for leaks. I returned home to find that some things had fallen over in the house, but everything else seemed o.k. Since this was pre internet, the phone lines were immediately overwhelmed. My family members in Kentucky knew more about what was happening 10 miles from me because they were tuned in to the World Series and watched the announcements about fires in the Marina and the collapse of the Bay Bridge. They were incredibly worried about us. Knowing that my husband was at the game, I waited for him to arrive home.

Meanwhile, at Candlestick Park, my husband and his coworkers were watching the warmups. He said that they didn't really know that an earthquake had happened until they saw the players on the field running over to their families. Thousands of fans exiting "the Stick" that night is another story altogether. The 15 minute drive took 6 hours to accomplish. Traffic was diverted through a pretty dangerous section of San Francisco. My husband, a high strung native New Yorker, stuck as a passenger in the back seat of a bright red BMW driven by a laid back Californian, was losing his mind. You'll have to hear the story from him. It's gotten better over the years. Finally, he and Dan made it back home. Our power was off, the baby was asleep and we pulled out the Maker's Mark. Dan wouldn't be able to get a flight home to Seattle until the next day. The early morning was still warm. It was quiet outside. A little bit of Kentucky whiskey was just perfect.

As I think about that day and night again, I wonder about the long lasting effect that earthquake had on many people. At 5:05 pm on October 17, my brother-in-law stepped out of his apartment at one of the busiest intersections in San Francisco and began to direct traffic. A few years later, he was a San Francisco cop. Our friends, Jim and Millie, never returned to their sweet apartment in the Marina. Instead they moved to Oakland and then on to Paris. Did those 15 seconds propel all of them into making  life changes?

I vowed that day that my husband and I would try as hard as we could not to work in San Francisco at the same time. I couldn't imagine one of us not being able to get to our kids in the event of another earthquake. It didn't make much sense, but it made me feel better. So did the shot of Maker's.

Thirty Years

I'm not sure that my old roommate, Lauren, would guess that I would lead the post that celebrates our 30 year anniversary of our move to San Francisco with this video of Royce and Marilyn. My younger sister brought it to my attention last winter and just today my older sister found an LA Times article that gives some background on the two women. I'll pause now, to give you time to watch the clip and read the article, because I know that you'll want to know more, as we did.

Don't worry Lauren. I don't think that this clip in any way indicates our future (but if it did, which of us would be Royce?). What it did remind me of is my first few months in San Francisco in 1979. Lauren and I packed some garbage bags filled with clothes and a lamp in my 1974 Mercury Comet and headed into San Francisco from Louisville, Kentucky with few plans and little money. We rented our first apartment on the outskirts of the Tenderloin. Within a few weeks, Lauren found her first job in a publishing company on Howard and I worked as assistant to the President of a small engineering college on Nob Hill, now the site of the Ritz Carlton Hotel. We had both just turned 23.

Until I figured out how to walk around the city in safety and avoid some of the more sketchy parts of the Tenderloin, I got pretty familiar with the people who called the neighborhood home on my way to do chores on the weekend. And the minute I saw the video of Royce and Marilyn, I emailed my sister and told her it wouldn't surprise me if the clip had been filmed in San Francisco. I had seen those women many times, walking the street, sometimes dragging a shopping cart behind them. Hair dyed an unusual color, eyebrows dyed or penciled in the opposite color, heavy makeup and clothing that was hard to describe. Not threadbare, but of a different era. Elegance and poise remained as they walked among the drunks on the sidewalk. I would try to envision their past and wonder why they were now alone and living in a Tenderloin hotel. I would think of their life in the hotel, and imagine them cooking a meal by themselves and staring out the window in the evening as the city below them became active. A couple of times I met women in their 50s or 60s who were living alone in San Francisco and working as a secretary (that was what they were still called in 1979) and I would wonder if they might one day end up in the Tenderloin, alone. 

I wrote Lauren last week and mentioned that it had been 30 years since we drove our car up Taylor street to park on Bush Street and begin our new city life. We shared some still vivid memories of our first year together as single women in the big city, but the image of the lonely women in the Tenderloin wasn't one of them. Lauren is now an editor of a magazine in Indiana with two beautiful girls. I remain in the Bay Area with my family. The Tenderloin is still there and quite possibly the Royce and Marilyns that inhabit it are wheeling their carts around today - ever elegant, ever proud.

An Erkjay in our Midst

 Some jerk exploded a bomb in the local high school in our town today. We know many of the students and their families and as the helicopters buzzed around all morning and police barricades were set up surrounding the school, I thought of all of our friends and hoped that there were no injuries. Thankfully, all the students and faculty are safe and I'm hearing that the former student who exploded the bomb was apprehended immediately. So, first and foremost, this is a post that is expressing thanks for the safety of everyone and compassion for the fears that some students will have to overcome as they enter school tomorrow. This school has an involved and intelligent parent community that will no doubt step up to help the students heal and return to normal.

The second part of this post is much more random and may imply that I'm going crazy. Really, it's just the way my brain works. When we were kids, my brothers and sisters liked to talk in Pig Latin. We were amused endlessly when we would speak entire sentences in our foreign tongue and thought that we were psyching out our parents big time. Because I spent so much time speaking Pig Latin, I still tend to think in Pig Latin for certain words. And jerk is one of them.

I was thinking about posting something on Facebook saying an erkjay bombed the school. But as I thought about it, I realized that Pig Latin might not be the foreign tongue of all my friends on Facebook. Plus, my husband's name is Jay. What if people quickly scanned my status message and misunderstood it? Could they possibly think that Jay was responsible for the crime? That Jay was the erkjay? And this, my friends, is why the longer and more detailed blog will survive in the world of hastily written updates. Otay akemay orrectionscay enwhay ouyay essmay up.

Hillsdale Knights - we're proud of you! Have a great year!

Staying Ahead of the Recession

I've been trying to piece together a post about the recession and incoming college students, because I have a few thoughts about sending a child off to a California state school this fall. The budget cuts are just now coming in to play for the state school system and my daughter is going to have a college experience that is far different from the one we anticipated, I fear.

In the fall of '08, while one of the Presidential candidates was saying that the fundamentals of our economy were sound, I realized that some things were going to change very quickly. And one of those things was that parents who were thinking that they would be sending their children off to a private college would be rethinking that very soon as their bank accounts dwindled. A whole batch of very qualified kids would be applying to the state and UC system. The financially challenged schools would have real problems now. So on October 1, I told my daughter to get her applications in as close to the first day that she could and get some acceptances. She had 10 applications to the state schools in by October 3 and had three acceptances within the month. Whew! I bragged about my brilliant foresight to all who would listen and read the headlines in the next few months that showed it had been a good idea to move fast with the applications.

When she made her choice of schools, we put the deposit for dorm rooms in immediately so that she was guaranteed a space. We signed up for the very first orientation, so that she would have the best chance to get most of the classes that she needed. We were running as fast as we could to beat that recession until it nearly caught up with us.

My daughter's school put together a fabulous Ning network for the parents. It was embraced and soon people were talking about dorm room decor, setting up carpools, the best places to stay when visiting and all other kinds of parenty stuff. I did notice that the school kept a budget information post on the site at all times, but I thought we were safe. She had been admitted, had a dorm room and had a roommate and classes schedule. Then last week the discussions on the network changed - there was talk of registered students having classes cancelled. When my daughter heard that because of furloughs and budget cuts one of her classes was cancelled, I took it in stride. Maybe it would take her 5 years to graduate - and anyway, it's hard to get used to freshman year. A light load the first semester would be o.k. My daughter kept complaining that she was not a full time student anymore and I was just happy she had a bed to sleep in.

Around this same time, our employer based insurance changed. As I was reading the details, I suddenly remembered that she will be 19 in October. Most insurance policies will take a child off at that age if they're not a full time student. This was the case with our last carrier and was indeed the case with our new carrier. All of a sudden, it became important that she pick up a class and get full time status. I couldn't even imagine what would happen if she became ill or had an accident and she wasn't insured. We'd be broke, that's what. So, there I was again, trying to beat the recession. She is going to a small state school that is incredibly responsive and just got off the phone with a counselor who helped her choose a class that will again put her into full time student status.

I don't really mean to complain. We're lucky that we (or one of us) have jobs and insurance and enough money set aside to help pay for our daughter's state school education. There are far worse stories in households across the country. But I've learned my lesson - I've got my running shoes on and I'm not taking them off any time soon.

The Reluctant Blogger Returns (and is a Facebook fan???)

Note from Judy: Welcome back Lainie! The images that come to mind of someone joining Facebook "under duress" are pretty funny. Next thing we know, you'll be writing Facebook applications. The graphic below is from the London Friday Night Skate. As Lainie mentions, San Francisco skaters started it all.

With head hung low, I return to Judy's Turn to compose a blog. Not being a "blogger," it never feels entirely normal to me. But my good friend Judy says her blog misses me, so for her I will think of something to say. Apparently life, at some time around the holidays, got the better of me and pushed blogging off my radar. I'd warned Judy that I'd probably eventually flake even though I was honestly trying not to. 

So, what's been happening?  Basically the same stuff that's always happening.  Framing pictures and skating. Not simultaneously of course. If I could make a living from skating, I believe I could easily skate eight hours every day. In fact, twice in the past month I've skated MORE than eight hours in a day as a result of participating in 2009's San Francisco"Sunday Streets." Easy; no sore feet or legs or anything. Just pure joy.

I've mentioned before that one of my main skating agendas is to re-grow the famous San Francisco Friday Night Skate.  San Francisco, twenty years ago, began to give rise to all the Friday Night Skates of the world --  most of them are still going strong and some have thousands of skaters participating every week.  Sadly though, ours has dwindled down to mere dozens and we're not sure why. Most likely just the simple fact that inline skating seemed to lose favor and was replaced by skateboarding;  young kids aren't seduced by rollerblading the way they were ten years ago. In fact, neither are adults; ten years ago it was all the rage but now the average age of rollerskaters is probably mid-40s. 

One of the ways I've taken it upon myself to attempt to regrow the Friday Night Skate (FNS) is by sending out an inspirational email to the list of SF skaters every Thursday night reminding them to show up!  Many skaters tell me they love my weekly emails and some declare that they have saved every one of them in a folder. A few even swear that my email has pushed them off the couch when they were on the fence about attending. But alas, we still rarely even have 50 attendees. 

Then, a phenomenon seemed to occur.  Last Thanksgiving I was recruited, under duress, to join Facebook. Whatever. Didn't think much about it.  But lo and behold, before I knew it, skater acquaintances started finding me and requesting that I be their "friend." I THOUGHT we were already friends!  Suddenly I realized there were LOTS of skaters on Facebook. I thought, "hmmm... maybe I've got another tool here for inspiring folks to come out and join in on the Friday Night Skate."  So, as a partner to my Thursday night emails, I now send a Friday morning reminder on Facebook.  Here's the kicker: skaters are showing up that I've never met, never even laid eyes on; they are FIRST-TIME Friday night skaters!  Go figure.  Go Facebook!!!

1.800.goog.411

Because we now have constant access to the weather and they love to give you the 10 day forecast, I can check on Sunday for expected weather conditions in the next week. And it looks as if we're in for some rain each day up to Saturday. Saturday will be bright and sunny and 61 degrees.

If only. The problem with the 10 day forecast is that you have to check it daily. It never stays the same. Which means you should really just poke your head out the door and check out the conditions, just like you did before the internet.

Here's a truly handy little tip, however. 1.800.goog411. It's free. Just call this number whenever you need to know anything about, well - anything. We were with friends in the Mission in San Francisco last night and were trying to find out the location of Mitchell's Ice Cream. I used to live around the corner from it, but I couldn't remember exactly which corner it was. So our friends called the number, used their voice activated system to find the address and then we discovered we were about 10 feet away from the shop. Too bad there was a line out the door and it was 7 minutes before it closed. We also knew it closed at 11 pm on Saturday because goog411 gave us that information too. Remember, it's free.

Our friends used goog.411 once to find a stream for water when they had reached their walk-in campsite at a state park. They had finished all their water while walking in, and had been assured earlier that there was a stream where they could replenish their supplies for their overnight trip. The problem was, they couldn't find the stream and it was hot outside. And they didn't have any phone connectivity. So they hiked up a hill and got a connection, called goog411 and asked for the ranger station at the park. The ranger gave them the instructions to the stream and a potential crisis was avoided. I just read a book about what happens to you when you suffer from excessive thirst and it's pretty gruesome.

On that thought, go outside and get yourself a refreshing drink or ice cream treat and put goog411 in your mobile memory. Check the weather first to see if you need an umbrella.

Of Cupcakes and Muffins

My husband and I were laughing the other night driving through San Francisco. We were remembering working in the Financial District in the early 1980s. In just about every block was a muffin shop (or shoppe). Where coffee stores now bloom, we had muffins sprouting out of our ears. In every size and flavor. It was considered the perfect food, because at that time carbs were the rage. I never much liked them, because, truthfully if I was going to spend the time eating a muffin, I would rather it be a cupcake (with gooey things inside and yummy frosting).

About 10 years ago, I was looking through a bridal magazine and saw that one ingenious bride had fashioned a beautiful cake out of individually decorated cupcakes on tiers. I tore the page out of the magazine and told my little girls that I had just decided on their future wedding cakes. It made wonderful sense to me. No muss or fuss, just have each guest pick up a cupcake and eat it. You wouldn't even need plates, if you didn't want to have one.

Little did I know that several years later, the cupcake fad would come around full force and there would be stores all over the place that sold cupcakes. I still like that idea better than the old muffin stores. The cupcakes are so cute, they are creatively decorated and it's great to buy one in a special box and take it to a friend.

So I was so delighted to hear that my friend Dee Dee from college has started a cupcake business in Louisville, Kentucky. Dee Dee studied nutrition in college and was always an excellent cook. She has an MBA and still works at Jewish Hospital in Louisville as a nutritionist on the world famous heart surgery team. She's hooked up with an old friend who has a background in fashion to create a beautiful shop that is getting a lot of attention these days in Louisville. Stop by when you have a chance and appreciate the simple cupcake - beats a muffin any day.

I want my Chron back

An open letter to the editors of the San Francisco Chronicle:

You asked on Sunday for reader input on your new design. In a word, it's "cheap."

Also ugly, distracting, undignified. It looks like the San Jose Merc or USA Today -- baffling choices to flatter through imitation.

The paper now consists of super-sized headlines and bite-sized items. Your typical reader is now, what, an octogenarian with attention-deficit disorder?

Before my husband and I moved to California, I was in the newspaper industry. The Chron was known among some of my snooty journalism brethren as the "Comic Book," but when we arrived here, I was pleasantly surprised. It practiced very good journalism -- it had a sharp city staff, was great on the bells-and-whistles (arts criticism, commentary, columnists), and it looked good (dignified and clear type-face, etc). I became a loyal subscriber, spending an hour a day consuming the "Chronological," cover-to-cover.

But times are now tough for newspapers, as the editor explaining the changes expounded. It was time for a new look, he said. Looking like USA Today, which has been embarrassing American journalism for a couple decades, is not exactly fresh, however. 

I want my Chron back.