Kratzen vom Rathaus

Catharsis

Like several thousand other locals, today I went to the Oakland Memorial service for the four police officers that were killed in the line of duty last week. I kind of felt I had to as some sort of closure on the Cincinnati police killings in my childhood. I have vague memories of that which still haunt me, images of funerals on tv, of police families protesting to get kevlar vests the city wouldn't pay for and of an almost complete lack of community empathy for the situation. They're almost like photographs in some morbid album that I can call up just by seeing black electrical tape and remembering how it was used on badges and on paperwork cubbies at the district. So, when this happened last weekend, all I could think of was; "Not again." There was a news picture that summed that old maelstrom of feelings up perfectly, depicting the graphic remnants of violence and a big gaping space where the subject of the photo was supposed to be. I used to have nightmares about that- of dad suddenly ripped away from the family to a closed casket with nothing left but that emptiness.

It's been 30 years almost to the day since I discovered the concept police mortality- and I've been carrying that around with me as background noise ever since. This week while reading articles about the Oakland incident, I kept getting confused because I was sure the gunman was shot at the traffic stop. It was only last night I realized that 30 years ago Dennis Bennington shot his killer even while mortally wounded and that's what was confusing me. He and Dick Seifert died that night, devastating their families and sending ripples that spread through the Cincinnati Police Department, ripples that can be felt today every time an officer straps on his armor under his uniform. I feel those ripples, too, as I sit here in a row of Oakland PD officers, laying to rest these four officers killed last weekend and two more who have been haunting me for much longer. I wish I could believe in an afterlife with peace and love for all. But I don't. The best I can do is to recognize all of these officers knew the risks and the possibility and went ahead with their duties anyway because that was their choice- something in their makeup that rose them out of the rest of us, to make them willing to one day take a bullet in exchange for someone they might never meet. I realize now that they considered it a bargain, and I'm a bit ashamed of how often I cried at the thought of my father making that same choice. It took me until today to understand that he'd already made it.

Today is a beautiful day in Oakland. The sun is shining and the wind is mild. The arena is full and the coliseum is holding the overflow of mourners. The community of Oakland and the community of police have come out in a measure of support I have never personally witnessed before. Truly, these officers are being laid to rest as heroes. And I'm laying things to rest, too.  I came out today to examine old scars and found that in the full sun of an Oakland spring, they aren't nearly as deep as they looked in years of late night shadows. I've always heard that funerals were for the survivors but I've never really believed it until today. It's just sad that it took an event like this to prove it to me.

Spring Update

Hey, it's been relatively quiet this month, surprising since it's Tony's birthday month. But not a whole lot has happened that's really blog worthy and Facebook doesn't help because it's so much easier to make a quick post-it entry than a full fledged one here. I really think sites like FB and Twitter will be the death of most blogs because I've noticed my friends aren't good at updating their blogs anymore, either.
Anyway, car is still in body shop limbo. We've had a rental car about twice as long as we had our new one. :(
But life goes on. Tony's birthday was a week and a bit ago and since we're getting back into hockey, he got a new set of leg pads. Just in time, too, because he broke another strap in a game the day before his new ones arrived- talk about your timing! We went out with friends Sean and Erin this weekend as an all-around birthday celebration because Sean's was last weekend as well. We went to El Mansour, which was one of my favorite restaurants up in the city when we lived there. (We never get there anymore because you just don't go to SF without a reason when you don't live there.) Anyway, food was excellent as always, and the pomp around the meal well worth the drive. There was a large, rather whitebread family next to us though, which alternately amused me and irked me, particularly when one of them thought the best place to stand and take pictures of the dancing was right in front of us. But no harm done, she moved as soon as we pointed out her faux pas. And it was nice to indulge our foodie side, since we don't tend to bother as much these days. As Tony has said, his favorite type of food isn't an ethnic style or type of dish, it's really well prepared food of any kind. That sums it up for both of us, I think.
But food has changed a lot in the household over the past month. We had dueling doctor's appointments in order to get ready for our trip this summer and Tony came out with a high blood pressure reading. We've since discovered he probably had 'white coat hypertension' because his BP is fine when not being taken at the doctor's. But for a few weeks, we dropped just about all the sodium and started making changes that would lower it, just in case. In the process of removing sodium, we were shocked by just how much was in our diet. We have always eaten pretty well- very few package foods, so it kind of boggled our minds how much sodium must be in a standard diet. Yikes! We were just getting used to the drop-off in sodium when my lipid panel came back and put me squarely in the borderline category. As soon as I looked at the results, I started remembering pieces vague overheard conversations where my mother was shocked as to how her triglicerides were so bad when she only weighed 110 pounds. So now we're cutting fats and cholesterol because, while mom can't give me any direct information, I remember enough to know I've probably got a genetic predisposition working against me and I might as well make the changes and get used to them now, before I really have to. Tony is happier with the new system than I am. For one thing, I've removed four bags worth of food from our cupboards to donate- mostly because of sodium content- and I hatehatehate wasting food. But I also think he's more adult about nutrition than I am. The upside is that I've gotten him to come grocery shopping with me lately. It's a little more expensive with the two of us, since I'm usually a bit of a tightwad when it comes to food, but it's been a lot more fun.
And that's about it on the homefront. Cats are still good, rat is still chugging along although he's over three now and showing his age which makes me sad, and we monkeys are hanging in there nicely despite the changes. Thirteen weeks til vacation and I haven't driven Tony nuts (yet) so I *might* be a bit derelict in my duties. But the sun is out, the birds are singing (except the finches who are fighting on the sock and the jays who are screaming for more peanuts) and all is good out in California. Happy spring, everybody. Hope it's nice where you are, too.

A Midlife Crisis Now Would Get Me To Eighty

“Age is opportunity no less than youth itself.”   
                       -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I turn 40 this June.
Pretty much 16 1/2 weeks from now. No, I'm not counting down the last days of my youth, trying to figure out how to make it stop. I know the length from now until then because I want the time to speed up. See, i'm planning my midlife crisis. I don't mind at all growing old, but I figure it's a big day and I want to spend it doing something big. Maybe even exotic. So come June 26th, don't try to call to tell me I'm old. I won't answer. If all goes well, I intend to be somewhere in Thailand.
Tony has taken this with his usual aplomb. Actually, more than usual, since the trip was originally slated as much more Tahiti-ish until he suggested Phuket. And once we started looking at the whole country, everything clicked into place. Thailand has become the perfect sequel to my 30th birthday, when Tony surprised me by taking me to Hawaii. (Ok, he didn't actually surprise me, the seven hours over the Pacific and the destination printed on the plane tickets kind of gave it away. But he planned it all, and it was spectacular.)
I've been keeping rather low key about this since December because there were a lot of variables left to sort, and I think there was some superstitious little thought process positive that talking about the trip might jinx it. But heck, we've had the economy crumble, the car die underneath us, the new car hit and we're still going. And this morning we got our first round of vaccines. Darn it, if I got a needle stuck in my arm for in preparation for this trip then we're getting on that plane. As soon as I finalize which plane that is, anyway. We're awaiting one more thing before I can book it. So today I decided it was time to start blogging. I wanted to write up the planning stages so I could remember how everything came together later and also (more likely) because I've got three and a half months to kill before I actually get to step out the door.

So what have I been doing to make this trip happen? I've been buffing up on my knowledge of Southeast Asia a lot in the past few months and realizing how very little attention I've ever paid to that part of the world. I've learned just how amazingly horrid North American air carriers are compared to others in terms of customer service and comfort. (FTR, it goes Middle Eastern, Asian, European then North American airlines in terms of what kind of seat you want to spend several hours of your life buckled into. I mean, look at the difference in what they consider top comfort: American Airlines vs. Singapore Airlines. Not that we're flying first class, but the differences are as marked all the way down the line.) I've learned a lot about Thai politics just because I don't fancy being stuck in the middle of a second closing of BKK airport due to protests. And today, I learned that the Hep A vaccine shot stings like a mofo. It doesn't hurt, per se, but about five minutes after you get it you suddenly feel like there's another needle in your arm. The sting recedes after a while but, man, at the time it hits all outward conversation ceases while you think; "WHA?!! How did I get this cheesed-off wasp up my sleeve?" Happened again twice this evening. I'm off lightly though, because Tony got his Td as well. I happened to get that one on a whim a couple of years ago on the basis that I work around too much metal and am too much of a klutz not to. I remember it was like being punched in the arm- sore for days. I guess it makes sense what with the teensy dose of tetanus in there probably causing a small, localized version of what the actual disease is like. But I remember after getting my Td vaccine I decided I was never letting it lapse again because if that was the lock-jaw lite, I never wanted to experience a real dose of it. Anyway, we're all poked and prodded and almost ready for travel to parts unknown. Reservations are waiting on Carolyn and Peter who have a small chance of joining us, and really all there is to do now is count the days or the weeks until we leave.
I'm 16 1/2 weeks away from being forty. And, frankly, I can't wait.