Tag Archives: Los Angeles

The City Of Angels Needs Some

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Exactly 40 years ago, fresh from student teaching at Dorsey High School in South-Central Los Angeles, I drove wide-eyed in my VW Bug onto LA’s wealthiest high school campus, Pacific Palisades, to start my second required student teaching stint. Due to my youthful good looks, a ripped security guard stopped me and lit into me for parking in the faculty lot. This week, Palisades Charter High School, with over 3,000 students, burned down.

Seven years later, I temporarily moved into a friend’s palatial Pacific Palisades house to do my doctoral research at the Venice Foreign Language/International Studies Magnet School. We are no longer in touch, and I would be surprised if his family still owns the house all these years later, but based on the photos and video of the devastation, I’m guessing it’s gone too.

The average home in Pacific Palisades is valued at $3.4m. That knowledge will limit some people’s empathy, as if it’s a finite resource that should be parceled out judiciously on a sliding scale. Two things can be true. Many Palisades residents will be financially okay once the dust settles while never fully recovering from extensive personal loss.

I am struck by the tremendous interconnectedness of homeowners. Sparks jumping from house to house like dominoes. Given the density of homes in Malibu and along the Pacific Coast Highway, and in the Palisades, as the locals say, it wouldn’t have mattered if a few homeowners cut back their vegetation and hosed off their roofs before evacuating. The one-two punch of the Santa Ana winds and their next door neighbors’ burning houses, sealed their fate.

Intense individualism is the defining feature of life in the (dis)United States. But not this week in Los Angeles County. To borrow from John Donne, “No house is an island.”

Postscript.

The Village People Had It Right

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It IS fun to stay at the YMCA.

YMCAs are right up there with public libraries as the (dis)United States best hope for not completely unraveling.

In late December, since my Olympia “Y” pool was closed, I visited the Lakewood, Washington “Y”. And today, I swam at the Santa Monica, California “Y”.

Now, the obvious question is why didn’t I swim in Santa Monica College’s Olympic-sized outdoor pool. Two reasons. Most importantly, I’m stupid. Secondly, it was raining, and not having a locker, I wasn’t sure if I could keep my towel and sundry-related items dry. Upon further thought, I’m sure I could’ve stuffed them under a bleacher, so, see reason one.

The results are in. Lakewood GOLD; Olympia SILVER; and Santa Monica a distant BRONZE. The GalPal had the perfect adjective for Santa Monica—rough. So rough, but instead of dunking on the fine people of Santa Monica, let me highlight the things that earn a “Y” the most points in my rigorous reviews and associated rankings.

  1. Cleanliness. No hairballs floating around in the pool or in the sinks or showers por favor.
  2. Showers that stay on. Talking to you Olympia. I work out too hard to also have to punch the shower knob every 30 seconds. And it’s hard to really enjoy your shower when all you can think is “It’s about to cut off isn’t it. Now? Now? Now for sure!”
  3. HOT showers. Not warm. Go ahead, scald me. Promise I won’t sue.
  4. Water pressure. Go ahead, by all means, blast me across the shower floor. See above, I’m not litigious.
  5. Sink facuets that stay on. Talking to you Olympia. . . Briggs and Plum Street. The faster I can shave, the brighter your review/ranking prospects.
  6. Have a large digital clock poolside. This should prob be number one. Ignore this criterion at your own risk. Talking to you Olympia.
  7. Nice benches to sit on, not stools (Lakewood) or short slabs of wood masquerading as benches (SM).

From this foundation, I could get all bougie and add in carpeted locker rooms, sauna and steam rooms, and and and, but then the “Y” might loose it’s greatest asset, its relative accessibility and middle class vibe.

Los Angeles Country Club’s Rules

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As I’m sure you know, the year’s third professional golf major championship, the (dis)United States Open, is underway at Los Angeles Country Club.

What a great course. Bonus points for being a stones throw from the world’s greatest university.

I was about to submit my application when I learned no shorts are allowed. Some of the other rules are a bit onerous too. Guess I’ll stick with Tumwater Valley GC.

Some of LACC’s rules.

  • No shorts while playing golf (tailored pants only).
  • Men must wear a sport coat in the clubhouse after 6 pm.
  • No changing shoes in the parking lot.
  • No clogs or flip-flops.
  • No headphones or earbuds.
  • No athletic clothes or apparel with slogans.
  • No photos or videos of the club on social media.
  • Members are responsible for all charges their guests incur.
  • No using cash on the property outside of paying the caddies (no tipping).
  • Phone calls can only be made from parked cars or the enclosed phone booth in the locker room.

The Los Angeles Teacher Strike Explained

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It’s really the Los Angeles Unified School District support staff that are striking for livable wages. And 89% of the students’ families support them. Because they are intimately familiar with the challenges of trying to make ends meet in one of country’s most expensive cities.

As reported here:

“The parents see their lives mirrored in the struggles of the bus drivers, cafeteria workers and classroom aides walking the picket lines — working-class residents who take on multiple jobs to survive in Southern California.

‘If you’re not making massive six-figure salaries, then, yeah, it’s hard,’ Ms. Cruz, 33, said. “How can you not support their cause?”

The strike has sharply illustrated the economic divide in modern Los Angeles, where low-wage workers can barely scrap together rent while affluent professionals blocks away are willing to pay $13 for a coconut smoothie. In this case, the school district’s working-class parents and school workers are on the same side of the divide.”

Support staff are seeking a 30% increase in pay while the district has countered with 23% over several years.

Podcasts to Ponder Plus

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1. NPR’s Hotel Corona.

“When the Dan Hotel in Jerusalem was leased by the government to house recovering COVID-19 patients, the new guests gave it the nickname, “Hotel Corona.” The nearly 200 patients inside already had the coronavirus; and so, unlike the outside world on strict lockdown, they could give each other high fives and hugs and hang out together.

What was even more surprising than what they could do was what they were doing. Patients from all walks of life – Israelis, Palestinians, religious, secular, groups that don’t normally mix – were getting along and having fun. They were eating together, sharing jokes, even doing Zumba. And because they were documenting themselves on social media, the whole country was tuning in to watch, like a real life reality TV show.”

34 minutes of joy and hope.

2. Malcolm Gladwell, Revisionist History, A Good Walk Spoiled.

“In the middle of Los Angeles — a city with some of the most expensive real estate in the world — there are a half a dozen exclusive golf courses, massive expanses dedicated to the pleasure of a privileged few. How do private country clubs afford the property tax on 300 acres of prime Beverly Hills real estate? Revisionist History brings in tax assessors, economists, and philosophers to probe the question of the weird obsession among the wealthy with the game of golf.”

In my junior and senior year of college I was a teacher’s assistant at the Brentwood Science Magnet School for the best third grade teacher ever, Marilyn Turner. I parked across from the school on the leafy border of the Brentwood Country Club next to the chain-linked fence Gladwell describes with great disgust. This excellent story hit home.

3. What Does Opportunity Look Like Where You Live? An interactive story, made even more interesting by putting in the name of the county you live in (if a U.S. citizen). The New York Times is unrivaled when it comes to interactive, data-rich, compelling story telling.

[Some readers have informed me they can’t access the New York Times articles I link to. You have to register at the New York Times to access them. Registration is free.]

 

Two Very Good ‘Los Angeles’ Sentences

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From Margaret Talbot’s “Dancing with HAIM” in The New Yorker.

Talbot doesn’t drive. Sentence one.

“In high school and afterward, I was often a passenger, and, though I’ve always enjoyed riding in cars as much as any golden retriever with its head hung out the window, I also walked and took buses a lot.”

Slowing down has it’s advantages, in particular, noticing the details of one’s surroundings. Sentence two.

“I got to know the particular topography of pedestrian L.A.: muffler shops and taquerias and strip-mall doughnut shops run by Cambodian immigrants; bougainvillea and birds-of-paradise that grow opportunistically in cracked sidewalks; abandoned shopping carts and outdoor newsstands and faded courtyard apartment buildings with grand names; the scintillation of sunshine on passing rivers of traffic, telephone-pole flyers advertising suspicious-sounding opportunities in the entertainment business, and freeway underpasses and their homeless encampments.”

 

Wednesday Assorted Links

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1. What swimming in my underwear taught me about Donald Trump and getting away with it. Funny, but rest assured Briggs YMCA patrons, I do not condone swimming in one’s underwear. That’s the reason the swimming backpack has a second just in case suit and pair of underwear. More spontaneous peeps should adhere to a strict “forget your suit, forget the workout” life philosophy. (Thanks DB.)

2. Why shade is a mark of privilege in Los Angeles.  My conservative friends will say this is ridiculous. As someone far too experienced with skin cancer, I respectfully beg to differ.

“As the world warms, the issue of shade has drawn more attention from urban planners. The writer Sam Bloch, in an article in Places Journal this year that focused on Los Angeles, called shade ‘an index of inequality, a requirement for public health, and a mandate for urban planners and designers.'”

3. I learned to play the piano without a piano. Passion personified.

“I was 11 years old when I asked my mum for piano lessons, in 2010. We were in the fallout of the recession and she’d recently been made redundant. She said a polite ‘no’.

That didn’t deter me. I Googled the dimensions of a keyboard, drew the keys on to a piece of paper and stuck it on my desk. I would click notes on an online keyboard and “play” them back on my paper one – keeping the sound they made on the computer in my head. After a while I could hear the notes in my head while pressing the keys on the paper. I spent six months playing scales and chord sequences without touching a real piano. Once my mum saw it wasn’t a fad, she borrowed some money from family and friends, and bought me 10 lessons.”

4. On writing about divorce when you’re still married.

“There’s my husband in the corner, who’s married to someone always wondering just how solid the ground beneath her feet is, and who always reassures her that it’s good. There’s my ring on my finger. There are all my friends, rising up from the ashes of their old marriages and seeking out new bodies to bond to. What is more romantic—more optimistic and life-affirming—than the fact that we know how all of this might end and still we continue to try?”

5. It’s that time of the year when you start wondering what to get your favorite blogger for Christmas.

 

The Hypocrisy of People Like Me

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Meaning people 57 years old, give or take a decade or two. We routinely bemoan the negative consequences of the internet, social media, and “screens” on the young.

But when it comes to an utter lack of electronic etiquette, or damn, even life and death cyber bullying, our offspring have nothing on us.

Take the case of Frank Meza, a retired doctor from Los Angeles, who spent the last few years running parts of marathons and then lying about his results. Who the hell knows why he felt compelled to burnish his athletic reputation at a time in life when most people finally stop giving a damn about others’ opinions.

That will most likely remain a mystery since he was found dead in the Los Angeles River after telling his wife he was going for a run. What we know from his family is that he was devastated by the internet-based backlash to his fanciful alternative reality. Devastated more specifically by the numerous, aggrieved, middle aged contributors to MarathonInvestigation.com who are known for ruthlessly pouncing on fake speedsters of which there seems to be a steady supply.

The are numerous lessons to learn from this tragic loss of life; among them, people from the Pre-Internet Era like me should stop pretending we have the moral high ground.

 

It’s You And A Bunch Of Parking Lots

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The best description of the city of Angels I have ever read. And will probably ever read.

“No matter what you do in L.A., your behavior is appropriate for the city. Los Angeles has no assumed correct mode of use. You can have fake breasts and drive a Ford Mustang – or you can grow a beard, weigh 300 pounds, and read Christian science fiction novels. Either way, you’re fine: that’s just how it works. You can watch Cops all day or you can be a porn star or you can be a Caltech physicist. You can listen to Carcass – or you can listen to Pat Robertson. Or both.

L.A. is the apocalypse: it’s you and a bunch of parking lots. No one’s going to save you; no one’s looking out for you. It’s the only city I know where that’s the explicit premise of living there – that’s the deal you make when you move to L.A. The city, ironically, is emotionally authentic. It says: no one loves you; you’re the least important person in the room; get over it.”

Sigh. Throughout the decade I called L.A. home, no one told me I could have fake breasts and drive a Ford Mustang.

And this very sound advice:

“If you can’t handle a huge landscape made entirely from concrete, interspersed with 24-hour drugstores stocked with medications you don’t need, then don’t move there.”