That Bittersweet Moment

My two older children plus my stepson (a bonus!) came home for the high school graduation of my youngest yesterday. It was one of those prefect moments in life, gathering the family, to celebrate the last child becoming an adult. I have often wished that I had known the last time I laundered a diaper or tied a shoe for a child, just so that I could mark the passing. Yesterday, I knew it was the last time any of my children would be on the high school campus as a student. I have been raising children for over 25 years. Sometimes, when I expressed my frustration at not having time to write to an older and wiser writing mother, the other mother would point out that they do grow up eventually and the time comes back. Now I have my time to myself again. In August, the youngest will move away from home. So I wistfully savor the last moments of hearing his footfall in the hallway while at the same time exulting in the impending freedom awaiting me on the other side of August. As I write these words, the washer and dryer hum away laundering the sheets and towels. My stepson, my daughter, and my son and his girlfriend are on the road, returning to their grown-up lives. I so enjoyed spending the last few days with them, cooking more food than we could eat, taking the crew out to the movies, sitting down to dinner together, and watching the siblings joke and tease. Now I am equally enjoying the peaceful moment here with my thoughts, piecing together another byte from life to share. In this bittersweet moment I don’t know whether to laugh in glory to have my own life back or to weep at the loss of my young children as they scatter to their adult lives.

Picture of my three children on graduation day --

Chocolate

When I was young, I honestly could care less about chocolate. I never understood the attraction. I preferred fruit pies or vanilla ice cream for dessert. A decadent dessert in my book was something RICH, like cheesecake or pound cake (put in a whole pound of butter, yum). Sticky cinnamon rolls. A cheese blintz with blueberries. Lemon cookies. But chocolate? Didn’t do it for me. Then I went through menopause and everything changed. I used to think that what people said about the connection between chocolate cravings and female hormones was a load of you-know-what. News flash: it’s true. With my middle-aged lady hormones, I can’t get enough chocolate. Especially that really dark stuff with the caffeine kick. I have my stash in the pantry and I eat that heavenly 72% cacao every day after lunch to get me through the afternoon. I have to be careful not to eat it after about 1 PM or it keeps me up at night. And I have to be careful not to eat too much of it or I get anxious about my financial situation. No way I can eat it for dinner dessert. But I can eat the more benign stuff whenever. Chocolate chip cookies. Brownies. Cake. I could eat chocolate chip pancakes or muffins for breakfast. Chocolate chip scrambled eggs. For lunch chocolate potato salad. Chocolate macaroons. Chocolate carrot soup. Bring it on. Chocolate lasagna? Why not. I’ve got it bad. All those years of pitying other women who had those chocolate cravings, not quite understanding what it was about. I get it now. If I could sit on the couch all afternoon and watch football and eat trays of dark chocolate brownies without gaining a pound or having a panic attack then I would be in heaven.

Continuing the Work of the Dead

It is a Jewish teaching that we assist the dead in a peaceful transition into Spirit by continuing their work on Earth. We extend their footsteps on their path here through our own good deeds in the directions they were headed and this allows them to rest easy because their work will continue. After my friend Elena was tragically killed in a biking accident, I wanted to do something to remember her and the good work she did with young people. She was an ESL teacher and she worked with disadvantaged youth who spoke English as their second language. She helped these young people imagine a future, figure out what they wanted to do with their lives, and pursue their goals. She worked with many young people who had huge barriers to overcome to be successful in life. I thought of collecting money from people who knew Elena and then donating it somewhere in her name. And then it hit me. A memorial scholarship for a student to attend college. The Elena Castaneda Memorial Scholarship Fund was born.

Because Elena lived all her adult life in Berkeley and loved that community, I thought it was fitting to give the scholarship to a student from Berkeley High School. And because Elena was a Chicana, Spanish-speaking, who helped so many Spanish-speaking young people, I thought it was fitting to give the scholarship to a student who speaks Spanish as his/her first language and who has worked hard to become proficient in English. I asked a group of Elena’s closest friends to serve as a board and selection committee for the scholarship. I wrote out the criteria, which included that the applicant had to be accepted to a four-year college or university. I developed a simple application form. My selection committee wanted to give the scholarship to someone who had done community service, since this was important to Elena. And we also wanted to give it to someone who would promote the Latino values and culture from which he or she came.

The first annual Elena Castaneda Memorial Scholarship Award was made on May 27, 2009. We raised $3,000, which was presented to Joaquin Garcia. Joaquin will attend San Francisco State University in the fall to study engineering and economics. His family is originally from Michoacan. He has done community service through BOCA and through his church, Saint Joseph the Worker. He made the varsity soccer team at Berkeley High when he was still only a freshman and was honored as the team’s most outstanding player for three years in a row. He is both an athlete and a scholar, maintaining a good academic record. Joaquin coincidentally grew up on Elena’s street, so perhaps at one time he spoke to her as she often conversed with the neighborhood children.

Elena’s parents and a group of her close friends met Joaquin, his mother, and his sister (who attends Claremont College) at the Senior Awards Night Ceremony last week. When Elena’s mother told Joaquin’s mother that she can’t understand why she lost her beautiful daughter, Joaquin’s mother replied, “Well, maybe it was so you could help someone like me.” Gracias, Elena, for helping Joaquin go to college. If you are inclined to donate to the Elena Fund for next year’s scholarship, please contact me to find out how. The tuition at a state school is now about $4,000 per year. We would love to give full tuition to next year’s recipient, and possibly give another small scholarship to Joaquin to help him in his sophomore year.

Sudi's Movie

It’s late Saturday night and I just cut the last thread on the graduation quilt I have been making since January for my son Sudi. I made a quilt for each of my children when they completed high school. I discovered the Native American graduation quilt tradition at the Bishop Museum in Hawaii where I watched a brief film in which Navajo families gave quilts to their children when they graduated. I loved the idea and adopted it. Sudi is the baby so when he goes we’ll have that proverbial empty nest.

For Sudi’s senior project he chose to make a short film. Not a surprise, since Ron has his degree in film and Sudi plans to study filmmaking in college. He will be attending California College of the Arts in Oakland, where he has been offered a fine creative achievement scholarship, to study media arts. Like his father before him, he can’t make up his mind if he wants to go into visual art, video, film, audio, music, animation, etc. So he figures that the best way to combine all his interests is to study film. He said he chose to make a film for his senior project because he has never made one and he wanted to see if he could do it. He wrote a plot, storyboarded, asked a friend to be his production assistant, got permission to film in a local bookstore, cast his actors, borrowed a camera, dug Ron’s Universal Studios scene-identifying clacker out of a box in the basement, and became a director. When he returned home from his first day of filming, I asked how it went. “It was OK,” he said, “but not what I expected.” I asked him if he had run into any problems. “Well, yeah,” he replied, “the biggest problem is that I have no idea how to make a film.”

Have a look at the film, which he posted on YouTube, and see if you think he had no idea. I confess, I cried when I saw it because it’s pretty damn good for a first go from a seventeen-year-old, and because I’m a Jewish mother. My son is so talented. The most impressive part, to me, is that he composed and performed ALL the music in the film, staying up late at night in his bedroom, playing all the instruments (plus voice) into a microphone, and mixing them with the computer program Audacity (a very basic, simple sound program). He played back what he had done with one instrument, listened on the headphones, and played the next instrument, laying one track over another. He had practically every instrument in the house back there. Ron and I would be trying to go to sleep and he’d be at it on the drums or a ukulele he borrowed from a friend.

I’m a proud mom and I don’t care who knows it. Here’s the film, entitled Backpack. Remember to click HQ for the high definition version (or else it will be blurry).

Booker T

Last Sunday evening, Ron and I drove to the Pacific Coast to hear Booker T perform at the Caspar Inn. Best remembered historically as the house band for Stax-Volt Records during the 60s, Booker T and the MGs created the "Memphis Sound" that backed up hit recording artists such as Carla Thomas, Otis Redding, and Sam & Dave. They were one of the first racially integrated bands (that was not a vocal group) of the rock music era and are probably best known for their 1962 instrumental hit Green Onions. Booker T didn’t perform on Sunday with the MGs, of course, but he had an excellent band with him and he was phenomenal. On the drive over, Ron filled me in on some of the remarkable aspects of the Booker T story. One day during a recording session at Stax, the musicians decided they needed a baritone sax in the piece and they didn’t have anyone in the studio who could play the baritone sax. One of the musicians said, "I know this kid over at the high school who could do it." So they went and took Booker T out of school to sit in on the session. He blew them away, so to speak, and the rest is history. When he was still only 16, he wrote Born Under a Bad Sign for blues great Albert King. On Sunday, after the concert, Ron had the opportunity to meet Booker T, since it was such an intimate small venue. Ron told him, "When I discovered that you were only 16 when you wrote Born Under a Bad Sign, I said to myself, ‘ok, this cat is bad’." Where bad means exceptionally good, Booker T is it. He put on an exceptional show. I loved his modesty and graciousness. He wrote, played, produced for (and with) some of the greatest musicians ever. Rita Coolidge’s sister Priscilla (also a singer) is his wife. He was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1992. Yet he is humble, approachable, and warm. He allowed half a dozen rather tipsy ladies to have their pictures taken with him. He talked to Ron and other folks who came up to him after the show. Well, for goodness sake, he played the itty bitty Caspar Inn! In his early 60s these days, he looks fit and healthy with clear skin and a winning smile, unlike many of the dissipated stars who allowed sex, drugs, travel, and wealth to ruin their lives. It was refreshing to experience a genuine person like Booker T as he simply shared his gift of musical ability with an appreciative little audience. Lovely.