What do you think about calling a moratorium on any conversations about traffic? No more detailed discussions of the 40 minutes you sat on the Bridge, the 2 hours it took you to get to the 49ers, or the increasing bicycle threat? Who cares? Even the most epic backups are never reported in the paper or the 6 o’clock news. It’s the new normal. Welcome to LA.
I’m a big fan of our Bay but frankly the wetlands that so many people romanticize are, to put it bluntly, landfill. I do, however, see considerable potential here. Recently I have been digitally knocking on doors in an attempt to arouse interest in an art park facing the Golden Gate on the empty shores of Berkeley. I envision outsize metal sculptures and understand there are plenty of them available in local warehouses, left over from Burning Man. If you’d like to join me in this cultural push email me at: email@example.com.
Where is Emily Post when we need her? I have to know if it is ever socially correct to remind someone speaking to you that you have heard that story before. People probably don’t need to be reminded that their memory is fading. On the other hand we are all getting older and time is short, too short for a repeat recital of someone’s granddaughter’s skill at walking. You don’t have to be rude. You don’t have to tell your interlocutor, “Hey, stop right now. You’re a broken record.” Be thoughtful, be diplomatic, say,” That is a great story. Tell me again.”
If you don’t have a passle of grandchildren I strongly advise you to get involved with your local school volunteer program. My experience has been tremendous. Don’t ask me why I prefer to tutor junior high school students who are either hormone crazed or falling asleep. But working one-on-one makes me realize once again there is nothing (when you click with a kid) more satisfying than teaching.
You know what I want for Christmas? Someone who sleeps in the basement and is a high tech wizard. Even buying a new computer has barely lessened the digital challenges. Things don’t (as they were advertised) get any simpler. And I shudder to think what will happen when we reach the age of the Internet of Everything, when every moment of our lives will be digitized and if our cell phone is stolen we might as well not exist.
You’ve got to laugh when you walk into a hip little gift shop and find bars of cold brewed mint coffee soap