An Ugly American

I was a dumb Mexican. A Wet Back and not good enough to play with the red headed girl across the street. I was not allowed to join the Blue Birds an off shoot of the Girl Scouts. Nor was I invited in to many of my friends houses.  

This is me, a little girl at a birthday party sitting next to Tommy, the Birthday boy who was my best friend. You could say the seat of honor. And yet his mother thought nothing of picking me up at my house to go and visit him one evening and then leaving me in her car in the dark while she went into her friends house for hours to perm her hair. I was probably not good enough to be invited in. And their I sat, obediently, looking longingly for her to return so that we could continue on, so that I could play with Tommy.

I show my childish grinning photo to make a point. As far back as I can trace, my family came from Spain and settled in New Mexico by way of Mexico. Not recent immigrants they had been in New Mexico when it was a territory, then a state. As far as I know they had been there from the 1600’s. 

From New Mexico they moved to Colorado where my parents moved to California. I am surely an American. I pledged the flag every day, stood no matter when the National Anthem played even on the TV. I was taught to hate the Indians. I always wanted to be a blue blooded Cowboy. Davy Crocket was my hero because he fought at the Alamo. I  even believed that the Hawaiians were lucky to become part of the United States, after all they would be able to have all the modern conveniences  that All Americans had.

But as this grinning little girl, I endured much. Name Calling, rejection and hatred. I wanted to be like the little red headed girl or the blond with ringlets. Surely I would have been a much better person had I been. I held it against my father for having brown eyes even though his half brothers and mother had blue. I surly was defective. And because of this I never really felt like a true American.

Here I am today, still trying to come to terms with who I am and having much empathy for those who are the underdog. My eyes are wide open now. My mind has expanded, and though there are many things I don’t like about America, I am an American, through and through. Through all these experiences it is my responsibility to make sure that I can take my past and make it work for the future. Change the ugly in The Ugly American to The Beautiful, the kind and The Non Judging One.

I’m not dumb, my family never snuck across the Rio Grand and though I would never deny it if I was, I am not Mexican. I am an American of Spanish decent. And for those of you who don’t know the difference then the pot is calling the kettle black. Dumb indeed.

The American Way

It was about 8 years ago when the housing market took a nose dive. Prices were dropping like needles from an old tree. Our whole town house complex took a nose dive. But within two years people who could not afford the over inflated prices were able to pick up a house at a reasonable price. Those who had to move but did not want to loose money rented out their place until the prices came back up. No one came in to bail them out and even my daughter was able to find a house at a decent price as a first time home buyer. 

Within 3 years the value of her house doubled. And not one bailout loan had been given to anyone. Now the houses are so over inflated once again that it would be good if houses were to drop in value. I understand that there are people woh move because of their job situations but when are people going to  buy a home like they used to? Homes were an investment in their family. This was where they were going to raise their children and grow old.

I'm sorry but I just don't feel sorry for the people who are loosing their home to ARM loans.Who in their right mind would gamble like that?  I don't feel sorry for Car manufacturers who due to greed built humongous trucks and Hum-vies even though they were guzzling up vanishing resources. If they go out of business there will be another company to come along and learn from their past mistakes. Those people who worked in the automotive industry made huge pay checks. But like the rest of the nation, myself included, decided to live beyond their means because they thought their jobs were secure. 

Now I am trying to live without using my credit card. Cash only. I've never been so poor and have never realized that I am actually poverty stricken. Those damn cards have ruined our whole economy and yet not one thing has been done to stop them. Credit card companies  are no better then the banks that issued loans to people who could not afford to pay for the house that they were buying. So if the banks are being blasted for it why aren't the Credit card companies too?

Wow, I did not realize how upset and mean I've become. It's just that I am sick and tired of the news, politics and the American way. 

"Being able to charge to your hearts content? Debt for life. Owing no charge card company? Priceless.

Children, You must Learn to Get Along

Something bothered me today about a B movie I saw yesterday. It lingers now, affecting how I think about people. The movie itself is not memorable. A 17 year old kid enters a 500 mile sled dog race to save his parents farm and get money for college. You know the kind of movie and most likely can predict the ending. 

The Iditarod happens to be an interest of mine and, though this was nowhere near that, I wanted to watch just for the race. As in all movies you either have the bad guys or a seemingly insurmountable object.  In this one you had both. 

The frost biting weather, the frozen or not so frozen lakes and the unforgiving tundra divides the men from the boys or the soul from the body as the case may be. A 17 year old boy entering and thinking that he has a chance especially when he's never raced gives the movie it's suspense. 

Then there are the bad guys. The stereo types that Hollywood can't seem to make a movie without. And this is what bothered me. There were the noble Indians, the kind American and, here we go, the evil German who kicks dogs and threatens the young boy. The German's sponsor  is a Scottish  tight wad who will stop at nothing to win his money.

The German was the one who bothered me the most. Now I have friends in Germany. Rainer, whom I've corresponded with for 18 years is the kindest, happiest man I know. 

It was on a train ride through Germany where a bunch of young athletic girls came to my rescue, tossing my luggage hand over head to move it for me when I had unknowingly put it all in the wrong place. And just recently I've come to know a couple of more young Germans through my Twitter site who are just adorable. 

Movies like these in the past had influenced my way of thinking about Germans. The movie always portrayed them as harsh, cruel and evil thinking. It wasn't until I made contact with Rainer that I actually got to know about Germans and Germany. This is a shame. Our society today is so easily swayed. Even with the news we seem to only get the negative side. The more negative it seems the more sensational it is and the more they shove it down our throats until we can only see the bad side of people. 

That German in the race could have been an American that had tried to harm the boy in the movie. Kicking dogs is not unknown here. Can you say  Michael Vick? Look at the puppy mills. Just look down the street at dogs who are chained and never leave the yard. 

Talk about cruelty to children we now have on trial a woman who killed her own little girl and dumped her in a plastic bag. This is not an isolated incident there are many. You can go on and on about the atrocities that have been performed  by Americans. 

 What I'm trying to say is, we are no different then any other race. We've tried to exterminate the Native Indians, we've experimented on a race of black men, (Tuskegee) we've even experimented on children (http://tech.mit.edu/V115/N49/radiation.49n.html) So why do we persist on stereotyping other nations? 

And my god, obsession with money. Why do we still paint the Scots as the proverbial cheapskate who will stop at nothing to get his hand on a dollar? Why we have Bernard Madof. He has bilked and ruined thousands of innocent people. 

All's I know is that I've got to start taking the news, movies, and "informed" opinions with a grain of salt. If the Pakistani man that I met at the museum is representative of his race, a person who listened attentively, had wonderful insights to offer and some very interesting statistics to share,  I'd truly like to meet more of them. His concern about his children's colds and the illnesses in his family only spoke to me of a person I seem to have talked to over the fence, at the store, or the office water cooler. 

I only hope to meet more people from other parts of the world. I hope that we all get to meet one another. I hope that we can come to an understanding, an appreciation and a love. 

Let's take our own advise that we give to kids when they are playing in the park. "Now, children can we all just play nicely.

A Living Wage

How much do you think you should tip the carpenter who builds your house, or the nurse who cares for you through a serious illness, the shoe sales man, the sales lady who drags in mounds of clothes for you to try on? 

Oh there are others I could name but by now you are saying, "what are you nuts, they get paid a good wage to do what they do."

Why do they get paid a good wage or decent wage or a better wage then a, say for instance, waiter or waitress?  these people do a lot for us many of them more then any waiter or waitress in some cases. Like a nurse, or the poor shoe salesperson that brings out mounds and mounds of boxes of shoes for you to try on. 

It does not enter our mind to tip them because we know that, hopefully they are getting better pay then the person who serves us our food.

Today on NPR's Talk of the nation, the topic was, "tipping when money is tight." The host, Neal Conan and his guest, Kimberly Palmer were taking calls from people who depend on tips during this downturn in the economy and asking them how were they managing. 

Many of them said they were loosing as much as half of their income due to people cutting back on what they normally leave. A few of the callers who were in the food service industry commented that they felt that if you can not afford to leave a tip, then either you should stay home or not have extras like dessert so that you will have enough for a tip. And by the way Palmer said that the proper tip now is 20 to 25 %.

Hum, I thought, leave up to one fourth of the cost of the service? Not only do I pay a higher price for the food I am now responsible for the employees raise in his wages. Why is it my responsibility to make sure that this restaurant pays their employees a living wage? 

I thought of the tip jars that are out at the coffee shop where I stand in line for 10 minutes to get a cup of coffee then stand in another line and wait again for it to be made. Mean time I am watching all the seats in the coffee shop fill up so that when I do get my coffee I have no place to sit. And yet, and yet, I'm expected to leave them a tip for the privilege of waiting. I've done all the work, I should get the tip. 

Now, don't think I am a cheap skate. I always leave a tip when I go out to eat, when the waiter or waitress is bringing me my food and gives me decent service. I understand this system and how poorly they are paid. But I think that this system has to be updated. 

The comment, you should not go to a fine dinning restaurant without leaving a tip was what made me think. Especially fine dinning. When a restaurant can charge as much a $1000 a head to dine there, why can't they pay their employees a living wage? Why must their customers do this for the owners? What other employer can pay his people below standard wages and expect his customers to make up the difference?

And these guys are in a culinary union! At least I was when I worked in the industry. I had no choice, and they did jack rabbit for us. 

When in Holland years back, visiting my brother we were out at one of the many wonderful pubs drinking that great trappist beer. I wanted to pay the tab and when doing so my brother said to me, don't leave a tip. I was flabbergasted as the service was great.

He leaned over to me and whispered, they get paid good wages and don't depend on tips like they have to back home, (Meaning America) their not archaic here. 

And that, I believe is the bottom line. Too many business have made themselves successful off the backs of their employees. I would turn that suggestion of. if you can't afford to tip then don't eat out, into, if you can't afford to pay your employees a living in wage, then you should not be in business. I don't believe that any restauranteur would want his patrons staying home because they can't afford to tip. That would just not be good business. 

So maybe it is time for the owners to start putting money into the cookie jar and divvy up.

Why does my head hurt

I stopped using my IPod and started walking with naked ears. Different levels of chirps, peeps and whistles  sounded  through the trees as birds took flight in search of their morning breakfast.  “Wow, where did those bird calls come from?” Then I realized that I didn’t have the plugs in my ears. The birds had been there every morning. I even noticed the deep orange that rimed the back of the clouds as the sun began to rise.  I glanced side to side and up to the clouds as my interest was drawn out and not to what was being said in my ears. 

Max and I forged our way passing the mango trees, bird of paradise, bananas and plumerias in front and behind fences.  Then I noticed a flag perched in front of a house. It was red stripes with blue stars and had a big yellow ribbon over all. 

Ah someone must have a loved one in Iraq I thought.  That’s a nice way of displaying it, thinking back to the movie of the “Five Sullivan’s” and the five stars the parents hung in their window to show their losses. Though this did not mean the same, it did represent someone fighting in a war Zone. 

I’d been through the Viet Nam era, and would pass through Ft. DuRussy in Waikiki. Young wives would be in line with their husbands holding them and some would be crying. The soldiers were leaving the islands having just finished their R&R, retuning to Vietnam. It never ceased to make me cry each time I would see this. That bloody war, I hated it. Not only were they heading back to a place many of them would never return from, they had barely any support from their fellow countrymen as they carried out their duty. 

The flag flying freely in front of that house would never have happened in the 60’s.  I think that Bush has put a different spin on supporting the troops. We are encouraged to stand behind them, send them messages and thank them at all times. And I do. I do feel a debt of gratitude in that they are following orders and putting themselves in harms way. 

But I don’t support the war!

And that is what I thought about as I passed that home. How would someone know the difference if I put a flag out in front of my house? Wouldn’t they automatically think I support what is going on in Iraq?  And to that end, how many people were counted as supporters because they wrote, e-mailed or in some other way tried to display a kindness because these soldiers were doing what they had to do.

Then to hear speeches about how so many Americans were behind the troops and the war, made me wonder, how true was that? I believe that we learned from Viet Nam. Today we want our service people to know that we appreciate them but the vast majority of people I talk to do not support the war even though they support the troops. 

Ah, but I am just a gal on the street albeit if you walk long enough my street will connect to Waikiki. I think that I am taking my walks to seriously. The drawer in my head is coming open with stress.  My brain is leaking out. I think I will put my IPod back on.