4.16.09. Some days go by so fast, you can still remember waking up. At the office i have my hands full- everything goes by the clock, how much can i squeeze in before the top of the hour? It still hasn't sank in that this is it. A new life in July- independence day, the start of all new beginnings. I'm fired up and ready for another adventure.

3.29.09. My neighbor’s moving out. Heard her clearing out the couch and flat screen tv. Vacuuming up a storm, place is all but empty now. I may have to do the same seeing as how pink slips are flying… country music takes me back to my younger days- it’s bizarre, why? Somewhere between the ages of 5 and 10, country got me in its grip- oh susanna, I’ve been working on the railroad, the square dancing- maybe that’s it- the square dancing during p.e. at montclaire with that lil' suzy q… bought another American book- this one about the civil war. Flag cross song gun.

1.01.09. Last year during Christmas time Matthew was in China studying and praying at a university in Tsingtao. This year he was back in California and we unpacked presents together in the living room. He got me a book about a nonprofiteer in Pakistan who made schools for Muslim girls in the countryside with his wife for a living. On Christmas Eve we gussied up for Pa’s Christmas choral performance on Blaney. In the church, I recognized some faces I hadn’t seen since Montclaire. The songs were familiar and sung with heart. There were many warm and cheerful faces from the neighborhood enthusiastic about wrapping up another year in sunny California.

The brothers Rocks made several obligatory trips to the Valley Fair shopping emporium for window shopping and actual shopping. Apple store, shirt stores, cafes, Best buy electronics and Borders booksellers. The mall crowds were plentiful despite reports in the newspapers about consumers pinching their wallets this 2008 Christmas cycle. We dined out on occasion, at the pancake house in Saratoga, Mexican taquerias, and the Stanford outdoor mall on Page Mill road. Hadn’t been up there in years. The streets were real clean and green sycamores line the neighborhood front lawns- very refreshing compared to what I’m accustomed to here in LA. In 2008 I’d made a number of trips to Garden Grove to get a feel of what life will be like in July of 2009. It will be better that’s for sure. It will be a place where I can be proud of my country, where others fly the stars and the bars on their front porch. Got my guitar and my suitcases are packed, just waiting for the July train.

An email to Rush:
Dear Rush, I'm 43. I have listened to you since 1988. You've changed my life; you have shaped my views; you have given me hope amongst lots of challenges. I met a girl I never thought I would meet. I fell in love with her and her family. We discussed a few political issues, and I knew we were opposite, but I supported everything she presented to me....She came in one afternoon and heard that I had you on the radio. She left the next day without saying anything. She called three days later to break it off, saying that if I listened to you, I was too right-wing and she could never be with me. I loved this girl and her family, no matter what their issues were... I will never change my core beliefs. I have never personally judged a loved one for theirs."
- Christopher

Said Rush:
Your heart may be broken, you may be in pain you have never felt before because love is one of these emotions that we cannot control. We can't go out and decide on the spot, "Hey, I want to be in love," and do it....You're trying to figure these people out; you're trying to figure out their intolerance. There's no rational explanation for it. You will go nuts trying to understand. The best that you can do is to understand they have a false sense of superiority, they think they're smarter and better than everybody else.

Obama’s elected 62-55 and life goes on. One thing about patriots, men who love their country- we never surrender, we never give up. We fight to the end. We don’t hang our heads low after a defeat but forge on towards victory until we can taste it in our mouths. Always towards victory.

It's morning again in America. Today more men and women will go to work than ever before in our country's history. With interest rates at about half the record highs of 1980, nearly 2,000 families today will buy new homes, more than at any time in the past four years. This afternoon 6,500 young men and women will be married, and with inflation at less than half of what it was just four years ago, they can look forward with confidence to the future. It's morning again in America and our country is prouder and stronger and better.

On the eve of the election several thoughts cross my mind. One the fact that I’m the only one I know voting for McCain. At work, at play, at home, even at the church believe it or not. Churchgoers for Obama; as the man says, we live in interesting times. Everywhere I turn it’s Vote no on Prop. 8 unfair, wrong. Marriage has no definition, man and man, woman and woman- anything goes. And the man who won’t support laws to ban redefining marriage- Barack, his head pasted on superman bodies. His propoganda posters plastered across department store windows, bakeries, book stores, and gas stations.

Regardless of who is elected I pledge my allegiance to him, because that’s America. You don’t turn your back on your country because they made the wrong choice. The one elected is my president. The libs wouldn’t grant Bush that courtesy. So it’s one man’s vote for McCain in Soviet Los Angeles, me and the orthodox Jews, and evangelicals, rednecks, honkys and joe six packs.

If the polls are any indicator of the outcome, I will be sitting in a squeaky rocking chair in front of a fire many years from now with my grandson on my knee. “Grampa, did you vote for our nation’s first black president?” “No, sonny.” “Why not?! You could have made history! Were you a racist?”

“I was an American and I believed America deserved better than Barack. Someone with actual experience in the Senate and on the battlefield.” The little boy indoctrinated by leftwing hogwash would dismiss me as a bygone product of the defunct vast rightwing conspiracy and carry on with his lipstick and my little pony dolls.

10.19.08. In the old days Reagan speech- writer Peggy Noonan was a hero to young conservatives; now she is a miserable disappointment, and doing her best to get Obama get elected. How is the country going to benefit from more taxes and a neutered army? This doesn’t surprise me though- Noonan, surrounded by the Soviet red county constituents of New York City, has been captured by the other side.

And Colin Powell’s decision today to back Barack is another example of phony conservatism. Powell dismisses the Ayers ties as a scare tactic and irrelevant. The scum who attempted bombing the Pentagon and then later hosted Obama’s coming out party is irrelevant? Another turncoat of Americanism… Alec Baldwin is correct Sarah Palin is way hotter than Tina Fey.

10.14.08. Overkill on the job, need to take a personal furlough, recharge the batteries. That was something they taught you in track training, tapering, relaxing- give yourself some time to breathe. Figure I’ll need to buy a pair of track shoes, once a runner. Haven’t touched it for a decade, but you can’t leave it behind- it’s a part of who you are. Like biting into an apricot and recalling when you were 10 years old in Los Altos hills. I always liked that Halloween the best in Los Altos, they really got into it. The multipurpose room was decorated for the times. Each year Ms. Marley’s sixth grade class was responsible for decorating. Those were the days when you had to have something for everyone in the class. Write out their names too.

9.28.08.For three years, I took no genuine pride in my labor. I was busy complaining how it sucked and I was fed up and this was just a stepping stone to something better. This year, I’m investing more time in the career- planning, execution, follow through. Totally engrossed in the labor and I feel better, cleaner, like a man of honor. It’s a good feeling. Still the same old problems after three years but at least now I’m pulling my weight.

About Newman, I admired his ability to age gracefully best. The guy was a cucumber under fire and he never colored his hair or pumped his cheeks with botox like that prettyboy Redford.

8.28.08.I want to see a man of color in the White House but not because it would be a superficial change from the 43 presidents we’ve had in our nation’s history. I want him there because he earned it through experience and judgment and that’s why I can’t celebrate and weep tears of ecstasy after Barack, the Messiah’s, speech in Denver. If America votes on appearances and false promises alone, Barack will be our next president. He is better looking than the old white guy and he can read from a teleprompter. Barrack can raise millions of dollars by pledging “change” and “hope.” The problem is that you can’t elect a politician on his words and promises. A politician will lie to your face to get your vote; on the campaign trail he’s like the frat boy who’ll say anything to get into the cheerleader’s skirt.

You must examine the politician’s accomplishments, his associations and his record before selecting him to be your leader. Looking at Barack’s record you can tell he does not have the experience or judgment to be the 44th president. Four years in the US Senate with the most leftwing voting record in modern times, don’t qualify you. Opposing the Iraq war and defeating Saddam Hussein don’t qualify you. Being dear friends with proud terrorists like Bill Ayres and hate mongers like Reverend Wright don’t qualify you. Insulting George Bush and Dick Cheney after they protected us from another al Qaeda attack for 7 years don’t qualify you to be the 44th president. So even if Obama is our next president, I won’t celebrate. He’ll have to earn that respect by being more like McCain.

8.18.08.China, the gold medal leader, don’t look like they can be stopped. Jamaica ends America’s chances to balance the check book on the track and with the States lacking competitiveness in lifting, shooting, badminton, and other contests no one cares about, there’s a very slim chance we will beat China in the race for gold dominance in Beijing. When’s the last time China commanded the medal race? What a year, and the Chicoms have not trailed since day one competition. Meanwhile in the glamour events it’s all about the Yanks: swimming- 40 medals and human dolphin Phelps spitz shattering feat. Kobe and Lebron stomping Spain after the exposed chinkgate scandal. Gymnastic girls from Texas and the Midwest edge out the Chinese girls. And two sisters from Compton take the doubles.

All week long the spotlight has been shining on that Baltimore phenom Phelps and his big boned mom who shares a striking resemblance to another plump mother of a winning American gymnast. And it’s funny, just goes to show that your parents can be walking ads for Dunkin Donuts and you can still be a world class Olympian.

After a week of play, China has proven the media wrong, they are putting on a memorable olympic games. Aside from a few stabbings, and free tibet banners, you don’t see much in the way of a disastrous event. 20 world records were broken at the water cube on account of a fast pool and nasa designed swimsuits. Lightning bolt grabs a 9.69 hotdogging it to the finish on a fast track. Even the marathoners did not complain about the smog in the air. All signs point to an olympic games for the ages.

8.09.08. I watched the first 20 minutes of the opening ceremony from the couch and surprisingly felt a lump in my throat when the representatives of 50 regions came forward with the red flag singing the Chinese national anthem. It’s funny how pa has lived here 30 years and still roots for China every four years. The Olympics will do that to you, have you cheering for your old stomping grounds and that which forms your current identity. You look at the American team, different by its 31 flavors composition and its unrivaled prosperity. A breed of people raised on freedom, keeping what you earn and earning what you are willing to work for. In America if you’re not lazy, you can go far. That’s not true in the other 200 nations competing for Beijing medals.

Of the many competitive sports, participating in the Olympics has always been a boyhood fantasy of mine. Running through the hills of Los Altos, I envisioned wearing the jersey of the stars and bars and obtaining glory in museums and history books along with 600 other teammates of the nation’s finest physical specimens. Then afterwards, bitterness grew in my heart over spending too much free time caught up in achieving perfection as an athlete. I could have learned the guitar or been an actor or written novels was the argument and been all the more balanced. Once an athlete, the thrill of killing an opponent at a contest by mere inches or crushing him mercilessly under by thumb was an addiction I could not overcome during adolescence.

8.03.08.My internet don’t work right Sunday evenings. The roommate says because everyone in the building is using the net Sunday nights and it jams the signal which sounds like a load of crap. My last place in Santa Monica never had that problem, not in Silverlake or Hollywood either. So what’s a do- it yourselfer going to do. Well he ain't going to sit on his duff, you can count on that. At the Arclight gift depot they have a range of humorous and inspirational refrigerator magnets and there was a John Wayne one I saw I was partial to. Johnny was riding a horsy and the words said something to the effect, “ fear is never half so bad when you face it.” This is the type of fortune cookie advice you clutch when the bible is on the other side of the room. It is hot and muggy in the city of angels, at least in this room. Dripping, sticking, fan whirring blowing everything off my workshop desk.

7.22.08. Matthew was in China for a year, he greeted Brian and me at the doorway with a handshake. Pa led us in a prayer of gratitude in the den; they said it would never come to be. It did. It was only a few days together and we still managed to fight about dumb things, as is my habit, over wearing shorts to church and camping in a bookstore. You try to recall the lighter warmer moments, dining out at Mario’s by Moffet Field, and having gramma bring out a complimentary plate of pasta “for the boys.” Watching the son toss pizza dough in the air over the fire stove. I didn’t get a photograph of the five of us, left the camera behind, but who needs pictures with a memory like mine?

Ma revealed her health problems and we prayed about that, kinda sorta. There’s the roof and the holes in the ceiling. There are dentists who drill holes in your good teeth and neglect the rotten teeth. There is retirement denial.

We went to Yogurtland, and tried the kahlua and the mochi, the taro root. Made a burger at the compound, fingered a les paul at guitar center. Suppose I could have went with Brian and the parents to pick up the car in Alameda, where Edlyn has a new house... Squid and walnut shrimp at Yan Yans on Judah- we've been eating there for 25 years. God Frisco will make ice cubes of your private parts! Caught me off guard walking down Haight Street how frigid and grey it is near the Kezar Stadium. Pretty rockers in scarves and mittens in Amoeba.... And De Young museum across from the Aquarium in Golden Gate Park; ran into Brian’s friend and husband. Everyone sees wedding bells these days.

7.13.08. An old trick I learned in Silverlake- a neighborhood walk after supper with 15 minutes of daylight left over. A hint of lavender around the last puffy clouds still in the darkening sky. Walking helps you digest, and think clearly, bubbles of reflections… I’ve been living my last three years like a gypsy never at an apartment longer than a year. Cooking and cleaning is no big thing… Ward cleaver makes a much better father than Jim Anderson. June is a fox and a loving mother, but she could get a part-time job… Tom Hall and Ernest Tubb won’t ever go out of style; just wish you could still buy their records somewhere…

An interesting background on the Wayfarer- like the Telecaster and the Les paul, the wayfarer has a storied tradition in American history. They were made popular by Audrey in Breakfast at Tiffanys and Marilyn off the screen in the fifties. Brought to you by Bausch and Lomb at the request of an airforce pilot general who complained that the blinding light of the skies had ruined his eyes. Old Douglas Macarthur always had a steel-framed prototype on, and for just 150 dollars you can have your own pair of Wayfarers at American rag sold to you by one of the pretty clerks on La Brea.

6.29.08.Last Friday was similar to many Fridays before- an unsettling combination of joy and sorrow. Tearing down wallpaper and stacking personal items in boxes, stretching masking tape, shaking hands and saying goodbye to people I just met and don’t want to say farewell to. Goodbyes usually leave me with the dreaded what-if questions, I hate what-if questions. You try to live your life right and avoid the what-if questions. One day you wake up and find yourself looking down the barrel of thirty and ask yourself another question- what’s it all for?

Then on a Sunday afternoon waiting in the Trader Joe’s checkout line it hits you square on the chin. You see a snotty nosed kid with boogers running down his face and sobbing in his father’s arms. The man wipes his son’s nose and tells the boy to stop crying and be a man. That’s the goal ain’t it? A child, a family, property. When you get to be 30, it’s time to stop running around; it’s time to plant your flag in the ground and say this is mine. This is my land, this is my family and I’m going to spend the next 30 years here, cultivating my land and if need be die on this land. Will that be los angeles? Never, not as long as lunatics are in charge. I wouldn’t trust the mayor to lead me across the street. So you follow the path of the patriot, join his flock and rest assured that you go to work for the right reasons and never have to answer another what-if question.