Canada's golden era

There was a three-part series on NPR last week about global warming in Canada and the Arctic and all the business opportunities that are opening up because of the melting ice. It was the most bizarre thing. People are actually hitching their star to global warming and looking forward to the day when the ice melts? It's like an episode of The Twilight Zone. Are people really that short-sighted? Are they really not able to connect the dots? Or is it just massive amounts of denial that allow them to believe they'll be rich before we all burn up?

Here are some of the opportunities about to befall Canada:
1) A lot of animals are migrating further north. It's warmer now and has less development, perfect for wild animals like the cougar that are usually associated with the dry mountains of southern California. Americans could start taking safaris through the Canadian outback.

2) Apparently there are a lot of diamonds in Canada, and the potential for other valuable rocks like uranium. Mining claims are hot right now, kind of like the gold rush of the mid-1800's. Trick is, the owners of the claims won't know until the ice melts, but their ship is coming in they say in 50-100 years.

3) Speaking of ships, the ice melting is also opening up a huge opportunity for shipping to come through the Arctic circle instead of way down in Panama. A viable way to link the Atlantic to the Pacific, a least one developer is talking about building a port which will naturally lead to a bustling port town in what is now tundra.

4) I was thinking I should buy some lake front property. What is currently just a patch of snow will someday be beautiful green mountains and while everyone in Los Angeles is burning in a fiery inferno of smog, I'll be lounging by the lake in beautiful and balmy Canada!

5) Oil is already big business up north but relies on ice roads to get the heavy equipment up there. Not too long ago a truck driving valuable drilling equipment fell through a frozen lake and sunk. The clever engineers who can figure out a way to fly, drive or ship the equipment there can retire on the riches.

All you need is love

Another interesting report from NPR. In 1960, a scientist named Harry Harlow set out to prove on CBS that children need love from their parents. Using baby Rhesus monkeys, separated from their mothers, he studied their behavior in response to two types of surrogate mothers - one wire that delivers milk, and another soft cloth that does nothing. The babies preferred the soft embrace of the cloth mothers and huddled next to them for most of the day, returning to the wire mother only when they were hungry.



Prior to this experiment, it was widely believed by psychologists that kissing, hugging or otherwise showing affection to one's children was detrimental to their upbringing. Parents in the fifties were raising children to be good citizens, parents and employees. This attitude is reflected in the family shows of the 1950's like Leave It To Beaver and Father Knows Best, romanticized versions of the nuclear family where children are well-behaved and advised coolly by their always in-control parents.

Harlow's revelation of children's need (and therefore everyone's need) for love must have been what catapulted America into 1967's Summer of Love and into the epoch of the individual where a person's needs are as important, if not more important, than that of society. It reminded me, once again, how quickly our world changes. It's difficult to even imagine a world in which people doubted the importance of love, just as people once believed the world was flat. It renews my faith in our ability to change - to rapidly and sincerely strive to be better.

The Bourne Identity meets Catch Me If You Can

It's times like this when I wish I ran a production company. After three days of neglecting my blog because I was so busy working - and came to Los Angeles for business meetings and hustling to wrap up some moving things while I was here - I had nothing to write about. Frankly, my life isn't very exciting and I much prefer talking about the big wide world outside of my tiny existence. I had only to listen on NPR and browse the New York Times on a relaxing Saturday morning (my first in weeks) to hear about several extremely interesting things.

The first is an upcoming book release from a British author who wrote a book about a man who was a British double-agent during World War Two. It sounds unbelievable, a natural to be made into a film with an already juicy title: Zigzag: The Incredible Wartime Exploits of Double Agent Eddie Chapman. Basically the guy was a wild man, the kind that usually has to be invented. John Nash invented a hilariously fun and care-free best friend in A Beautiful Mind, and the Leonardo DiCaprio character in Catch Me If You Can was a total fabrication, reinvented every few years for maximum appeal to women and adventure.

But this is a true story of a controversial figure whose loyalty was questioned by everyone. A "rogue and a patriot," he was considered a prime candidate as a double-agent because of his apparent lack of scruples. Spending most of the war partying and womanizing he still managed to complete his assignments, won the Iron Cross from Germany for his (unknown to be traitorous) activities and even volunteered to assassinate Adolf Hitler. The files on Eddie Chapman were declassified a few years ago and nothing's been written on him since the fifties. The author of the first book written with access to those files (another author is releasing a book later this year), describes on NPR this highly unpredictable character who spent 18 months in the bosom of the enemy, at a fabulous Chateau in occupied France.


I couldn't find any reference that this story is being made into a film or even that the film rights have been purchased. Is it possible that Hollywood is so drunk on the profits of the blockbuster (this summer topped $4 billion making it the biggest summer ever with most of the money coming from sequels) that they are overlooking gems like this? In 2001-2002 there were a slew of World War II movies excavating every possible story that hadn't yet been told - The Pianist, Enigma, Charlotte Gray, Windtalkers, U-571, Pearl Harbor, Enemy at the Gates, Hart's War, Focus - and I decided I couldn't watch another WWII movie. But I have to say, this sounds like a fun story about an agent with the wiles of Jason Bourne, the charm and good looks of James Bond and the fantasy life of Frank Abagnale Jr. Unfortunately, I won't make the bucks of Spiderman 3 and might not get made unless Steven Spielberg gets behind it.

Ex-cons are the only movers you can trust

I had a conversation with one of my neighbors that I'd never had a chance to talk to before. He's always sitting outside in the sun and I knew his name is Keith, he's a writer and has lots of tattoos. I didn't know that he had just gone through a divorce, lost his parents, and is from Manhattan. I got to see his apartment and it's decorated like a male version of mine. A big comfortable couch and furniture from the 30's, which matches the 1939 building. He asked me if I had arranged for movers yet and when I said I hadn't he recommended a company.

First I have to say that selecting a moving company is one of the most confusing and difficult commercial endeavors I've had to navigate. It's like the industry is still in the 1970's and run by the mob. I was at an apartments site and used a little widget to request quotes from movers. I got responses from no less than ten companies. They emailed and many called and either called or emailed me every day since. Their quotes range from $895 to $1,895 for the same move! Their contracts are confusing and bizarre and I really didn't know what to do.

To complicate matters, I don't have a place to move the stuff into yet and the longer my things are in the Santa Monica apartment, the greater the chance I'll end up paying yet another unoccupied month of rent. So I've looked into pods and storage and movers and U-Hauls and day laborers. There are a myriad of choices, all of which are difficult to decipher which combination will end up costing the least. Talking to my mom about it, she said it reminded her of Bank of America (whom she said she's heard is run by the mob). She works for the government and they have a deal with BofA to handle all of their corporate accounts. But when my mom's purse was stolen on a business trip, Bank of America was the only credit card that wouldn't take off the charges incurred by the thieves. My mom got a ding on her credit report for three years and has refused to use them (corporate or otherwise) since. I have my own horror story about BofA and wasn't looking forward to experiencing what moving companies are doing to people.

A regular Joe got mad and got even by starting MovingScam.com to educate other people, watchdog the industry and inspire people to take action. It's an excellent site and the story is fantastic. He got charged three times the initial rate, waited six weeks to get his damaged belongings, some of which were missing, and spend countless hours on the phone dealing with these thugs. Three years later the ringleader was actual convicted of extortion and money laundering. Which explains why this guy went through the trouble to find out exactly how the industry is regulated (or more accurately, not regulated.) He writes, in regards to the common practice of holding belongings hostage in order to charge up to double the "guaranteed rate": Believe it or not, a mover's "punishment" for stealing from you is to give back what he stole, and that's only if he gets caught and someone forces him to give it back which is no small undertaking in itself.

I know what it's like to be that mad. I spent three months trying to get my money back from Bank of America. The frustration of being victimized by a business legitimized by the government is incomparable. So when I started hearing horror stories about movers - they take forever, you pay more than they say, they break things, they lose things - I really wasn't sure what to do. Then, my neighbor recommended Delancey Street Moving company. He said he'd done three cross-country moves, two were horrible experiences but the one with Delancey was great. He said "you wouldn't believe the care these guys took with my things."

I looked them up online and discovered that it's a Bay Area based non-profit that helps ex-cons (and the like) learn skills, get sober and do whatever else it takes to "graduate" into society. The foundation's website says that The Delancey Street Moving Company is the largest independent moving company in Northern California. "Known for its swift and superb service, the moving company is so popular that they do virtually no advertising, relying on word of mouth." Certainly a refreshing change from the hard sell of these other companies wanting to provide me a quote and get me to sign on the dotted line.

Welcome to the FBI reading room!

NPR reported that public requests for information from the government are becoming increasingly delayed, taking months, even years to be fulfilled. Much of the delay, of course, is a certain level of bureaucracy and no doubt a lack of systems and staff to process the incoming requests. But many times, it is a result of intentional foot-dragging by certain branches of the government, less than eager to share this information with the public. Of course, if all you require are J. Edgar Hoover's celebrity files, those are readily available in the highly entertaining FBI electronic reading room.

In addition to restricting The Freedom of Information Act since its passage in 1966, the players of our current administration have spent decades working to erode the privacy protection of individuals. Despite the inability of the government to disclose information to us, they seem to have unlimited resources and technology available to extract information from us.

Regardless of whether their level of inquiry facilitates our safety, the checks and balances of a two-way flow of information is crucial for the maintenance of a free and democratic society. Anyone defending these seizures on our rights should consider what the other hand is doing while the long arm of the law is protecting us.

I miss my India

I've been thinking a lot about India lately. Staying with my friend in San Mateo, I have eaten at an Indian restaurant here no fewer than five times in a week. It is possibly the best Indian food I've ever had and only a few blocks away. My friend and her daughter, new to it, refer to my favorite dish Saag Paneer as "the goosh." They can't get enough of it. Strangely, the first time I ate Indian food was in San Francisco, in college, visiting a friend in the city. The restaurant offered a tour of their kitchen and the Tandoori oven and I, of course, took them up on it. And strangely, while I've overplayed my music during the 40-minute commute, the only songs I don't tire of are those from the Bend it Like Beckham soundtrack.

This December will be the ten-year anniversary of my two-month trip to India. I was recently looking up a town that I visited and discovered that all the names of the towns and cities have been changed since I was there. They were starting it when I was there - Bombay was already Mumbai and Madras was already Chennai - but all the names of the little towns (I visited over twenty) have been changed. When I returned to the U.S. I remember someone asking me if I would go back. I think my answer then was that there were so many other places I wanted to go, I couldn't see myself going back to a place I'd already been. But despite the wear and tear on my body from eating the food, the minute the plane left the ground, tears streamed down my cheeks and I cried "I miss my India!"

Ten years later, I still don't miss an opportunity to talk about my travels and many memories are as fresh as the day they happened. There's something about the country, the culture, the people, that get in you. I left India but it never left me and when I read or hear things about it, it's like hearing about a place I used to live or a person I used to love. There has been a lot about India in the news lately. There was a slew of polls in Time magazine and one said that people in India were two-three times more optimistic about their future than Americans. The commentary was that people are happier in a society that's in the process of improving than in one where things are already good. The author surmised that it was a feeling if things are good, they can only get worse.

But progress always has its price and a while back I saw an article about the giant boulders in India - across the Deccan plateau - that are being blown up with dynamite to make way for new construction. Yes, they're that big. One of my favorite places there was a town called Hampi (it's not on the map anymore, they changed the name!), just a little ways from Bangalore - then called the Silicon Valley of India. I can't help but wonder now if there are more Indians in the tech industry in the U.S. than in India. I read that the software industry is so booming in India that engineers from the U.S. can go home to India and take their jobs with them. But I digress, the article was about a society formed to "save the boulders!" of Hyderabad. It even describes one guy who built his house around a boulder, something that should have a been the subject of a Dr. Suess story. I don't usually post professionally published photos but this was just too beautiful and I don't have any of my India photos scanned (they were taken pre-digital!)


I spent time in Hyderabad and I don't remember the giant boulders there, but I do remember them in Hampi. Out in the middle of a huge plain, along a river, hundreds of giant boulders are stacked and sitting in piles, miles away from the nearest mountains. The first question you ask is where did they come from? The second is why are they here? When you focus your eyes you notice the buildings that have been carved out of stone by a civilization thousands of years ago and realize that the "buildings" are the size of a thimble compared to an orange. The boulders are way bigger than they look initially.

Protest is now part of the familiar modern tale of development vs. nature, but nature is starting to be more valuable I think. I also heard on NPR that Indians are protesting the arrival of WalMart that is threatening to replace the "mom and pop shop" with jobs, robbing Indians of their independence and freedom sell what they want, and only benefitting a few. We're starting to realize, as the article says, that once certain things are destroyed, they can't be brought back. Which is why, ten years later, I find myself thinking about India and wanting to go back to that which someday will be no longer.

Jazz as the portal to spirituality

Yesterday, I went to a church service at St. John Coltrane in San Francisco. Only about fifteen people were attending the service and at least five of them were actually running the church. The preacher looked like Richard Pryor and was almost as funny. His sermon was genuine, simple and surprisingly deep. He spent two hours exploring a single scripture allowing for a multitude of fantastic tangents. Every sentence ended with "amen" inviting the audience to respond with "amen," "that's right" or "hallelujah." The gist of it was about the importance of keeping an open mind, an open heart, open eyes and open ears. He said we spend so much time asking for things from the Lord we don't always notice what he's delivering (because we didn't always request it.)

I was invited there by one of my co-workers and it was a friend of hers visiting from France who had suggested it. Ironically, he had seen the church perform in a jazz festival in France and wanted to see them here. Immediately following the sermon, a jazz ensemble from the audience formed: three saxophonists (including the preacher), a woman on bass, someone on keyboards, a drummer, and an electric guitar. Still others got up to sing "praise him, praise him, praise the Lord" over and over while the jazz music belted out all over the city. It was too loud for me in the tiny room so I stepped out and got to enjoy the reactions of those passing by.

Two bicyclists stopped, turned around and had a listen at the door. Several homeless people sloughing by stopped to listen - looking as though salvation was right around the corner. A car stopped at the red light and the cutest dog sat sniffing intently at the air in the direction of the church as if he could smell the music. It garnered a shared giggle between me and the driver. Inside, a new member was being blessed and another apparently regular customer whipped out a board and was tap dancing to the jazz (yes, he had tap shoes on).

Our French friend explained that John Coltrane's music, without any words, is so spiritual to those who love and appreciate it that he was fascinated by the idea of a church that used it as a portal to spirituality. We all enjoyed the service immensely and were both amused that the preacher used a microphone hooked up to a full sound system for this tiny crowd and amazed that the crowd was in fact, so tiny. If you're in San Francisco any time soon, a service is worth attending.

Nature as therapy for veterans

There was an article in the New York Times today about Outward Bound classes that are being used as therapy for vets returning from combat. The courses are free, covered by a grant, and the article describes how a week out in nature climbing rocks, wading through rivers and living outdoors with other vets has given these men a chance to mourn, a chance to heal and a chance to live in the world among those who have no idea what they've been through. I got teary-eyed imagining these guys standing around a pile of stones that they made, tears streaming down their face as they mourn the ones who didn't make it.

There were two quotes from the article that piqued my interest. One was from a 27-year old who fought in Afghanistan:
“I think if there’s one message I could get across to the public, it’d be to not give up on us,” he said as the group walked through the mountain sunshine to the trailhead.

The other was from a 23-year old Marine who fought in Iraq and sustained a head injury from flying shrapnel:
“I wish that civilians and policy makers really understood, at an emotional level, the tremendous toll and cost of war on those who actually experience it,” Mr. McMaster said the next day, as he hiked down the mountain and across a green field.

From Matthew Dowd asking for more gentleness in the world, to a poll I read recently (but can't find!) that said in several countries known for supporting terrorists, the public is dramatically less likely than a few years ago to think violence is justified. In Pakistan, the percentage that supports the actions of terrorists decreased from 46% to something like 14%. I've said it once and I'll say it again, violence is out of fashion.

What is critically needed is a separation of violence from the desire to defend one's country, promote a way of life, or liberate a group of people. Although many actions of war can be "justified," overwhelmingly people are starting to question not the motives of going to war but the actual decision to go to war. Soldiers coming back from war might be willing to turn around and go back because they believe in the cause but they still question the choice of war. As McMaster expressed, it's worth the toll if it's the right decision. IF, it's the right decision.

Last year I watched a fantastic documentary, Sir, No Sir!, about the soldiers who protested the Vietnam War, a story covered up for years. Even now, we're artificially divided between those who "support our troops" and those who don't. It's a technique devised to suppress the public's growing desire for peace. I don't think there's an American alive who isn't grateful for our army and who doesn't think it's incredible to live in a country where people volunteer to serve. But clearly, people all over the world are starting to wonder if violence is still an effective tactic for bringing about change.

Starting to look like a romantic comedy

Only a few days in Northern California but there are a few marked differences already. Since I spend so much time on the road, it's where I've noticed the most. My first day here I had a moment of realizing that I could SEE in front of me and for several miles. Why? Because there is a conspicuous absence of giant vehicles. The trucks that I've seen are work trucks and there is a plethora of old Toyota trucks that are 10-20 years old, used faithfully and taken care of. (My mom's husband has one parked in their driveway that she's been harping on him to get rid of.) Mini-coopers and Priuses are very popular and in general, people here drive smaller, more fuel efficient cars.

The second difference is that they actually DRIVE. I was cruising in the fast lane at 80 miles per hour this morning, along with everyone else. The people in the next lane were going 75, the next lane 70 and the slow lane 65, the speed limit. In Los Angeles, people sit in the fast lane, going exactly the same speed as every other lane causing others to insanely swerve in and out of all the lanes trying to get places. Here, the ego has been removed from the driving equation.

There was an accident today and while traffic slowed, it was momentary, we drove right past at 35-40mph. L.A. people come to a slow crawl and gape long after they've physically passed the crash site as if expecting to see Brad Pitt giving Angelina Jolie mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. The entire Bay Area smells like the forest, it's filled with pine trees and my drive (soon to be bus ride) down the 280 is a jaunt through rolling hills shrouded in fog and punctuated by a long lake and groves of redwoods.

My co-workers are awesome and today when I was stressed out, one came to my desk with a stuffed animal on her head, the other with a large Darth Vader figure in hand singing a "don't stress" song. They live in Noe Valley and take a company bus to work that goes straight from SF to our "campus." It takes an hour and there's wi-fi on the bus in case you want to work. When I mentioned that I was going to look in San Jose (for a place to live) my co-workers became very concerned and wondered if they'd have to do an intervention. Hundreds of people do the hour commute from the city to the 'burbs for work.

When I first walked into our office, I thought it looked like the companies they use in romantic comedies (where the hip girlfriends help our heroine negotiate the dating terrain). Their little cheerleading only supported that theory that, in fact, I'm working in a romantic comedy! Our totally gorgeous gay boss, that I have a crush on, took us for coffee this afternoon to chat a little about work but mostly just for fun. There's a free gym on campus, an ATM, dry cleaners and a cafe that makes every kind of food you could want for cheap. I love this job and tomorrow I'm going to Noe Valley apartment hunting. Wish me luck!

Learning Shuttle protocols

Day two of the new job and I'm so exhausted I have to drink coffee in the afternoon just to make it through the day. The job is energizing but as soon as the caffeine and adrenaline fade, I crash into an evening of babbling idiocy. My body is crying for exercise, my brain for sleep and my stomach for good home cooked food. This is temporary, this craziness, but it still takes it toll. The job has been a little chaotic in that there's a lot going on and my boss is going on vacation tomorrow but overall, they are impressed at how quickly I've been able to plug in and start working. As my boss' boss said, "get used to drinking out of a fire hose, that's how it goes around here." I told my good friend Steve that I think a lot of the job is just being able to figure things out and he reassured me that I could probably figure out how to fly the space shuttle if I had to.

He wrote me this email that provided a welcome relief to the crazy day:
Cut to the year 2012, Angelique has been selected to fly on the shuttle to the international space station representing eBay's foray into the save-the-world foundation with Al Gore and Bono. A serious encounter with space debris renders the shuttle inoperable as an explosion has incapacitated the astronauts, who are now dead or unconscious. With Al Gore's portly girth wedged between two science experiments and Bono hiding in a space locker, Angelique unbuckles herself and assesses the situation. NASA engineers hear only the phrase, "for fuck's sake", and know everything is going to be alright. After Googling shuttle protocols from the Internet, she re-enters the earth's atmosphere and lands the shuttle at Edwards Air Force base to throngs of fans. "Maybe now I can get that freakin' movie deal" she is heard saying to herself. Indeed!

I've said it once and I'll say it again: I miss letters

I got a lot of reaction to my post on cell phone mommies. Some comments came directly to me in email and all of them were saying that I should be more compassionate towards moms and parents. I never intended to be one of those judgmental people that think they know how to raise kids. A friend explained to me that getting the kid in a stroller sometimes is the only time a woman can have quiet time to get some adult interaction. I can dig it. I just remember getting a lot of attention from my mom. She talked to us, sang to us, took us to the park and on walks, made us food, played music and read books.


So I noticed that the global phenomenon of increased methods of communication that go with us everywhere has led to more chatter - in L.A. nearly everyone in the car is also on the phone - it makes me curious to know what the generation of kids growing up in this chatter will be like. I just joined Facebook after getting the sales pitch from several friends. I've already had a couple of conversations with people on it that I wouldn't talk to on the phone and haven't talked to in email, we just haven't been that close. Which means, we're trying to keep in touch with a lot more people than we used to.

In high school I had penpals in Europe that I wrote letters to. I corresponded with my grandmother in Ohio and a couple of friends in other parts of the world through the mail and they were special relationships. Catching up on the phone was a big deal, and you had to actual be home to do it. I had less friends than I do now, but the same number (and for the most part the same actual friends!) of close friends because despite the cell phone, email or Facebook, I can still only be close to the same number of people. One of the mommy comments was from a friend in Spain who wrote that he came home from work one day to find his wife and newborn crying together because after an hour and a half of trying to calm his baby, his wife had become desperate. It broke my heart and made me appreciate that we're in touch through the blog, although in 1989, we used to write letters!

Being the me no one else can be

I slept until almost 10:30, even though I was asleep before midnight. I packed almost my entire apartment this weekend with some help from a friend and took my last long walk on my beach, met friends for my last lunch at Le Pain du Quotidien, missed my last yoga class with my favorite teacher, and heard the church bells ring for the last time.


Now I'm sitting here kicking myself for not being able to think clearly for the last two weeks. When I thought my car was still going to be in the shop, I had bought a ticket to fly to San Jose thinking I would drive up with some things once I was actually moving. There were all these airport and car logistics so when I got the call that the car was ready, I canceled the flight. It dawned on me today that a) I really don't want to drive today, b) I'm already so late I've guaranteed myself a spot in South Bay rush hour traffic and c) I should be flying. I could have waited until 24 hours prior to cancel the ticket giving myself time to decide but I didn't.

I'm reading The Devil Wears Prada which isn't very good but the description of how the main character appears to the rest of the high-falutin' fashion people at the office and her first celebrity party makes me wonder if the girls at the massive agency (who work for ME by the way) were making fun of me when I wasn't there. I probably will have to splurge on some wardrobe items before going to Sundance just in case I meet the hottest eligible bachelor on the planet when I'm there. And after cracking open Season 6 of The West Wing on Friday night, I have already plowed through five episodes and a tear of gratitude fell for this show. CJ Cregg is the best character on the planet and now she's playing the first female Chief of Staff of the White House (there has never actually been a woman in this position), and she's amazing. I love that she's in totally in over her head but rises to the occasion, and somehow I think these two fictional characters (based on real people) have a lot to teach me about being able to kick ass as oneself in a new situation. I just hope clear thinking comes back to me soon.