Notes of a Nonentity

I paid for the spring food run at Adopt a Native Elder today. They bring food to the elders on the Navajo Nation once in the fall and one in the spring. I never did connect with my elder -- the card I sent was returned in the mail -- but I'm okay with just supplying the funds. I have gotten curious about the Navajo Nation, though. It's a vast area of land in the middle of our country populated by people with a history and culture I barely know about.

I have more to write but am too tired to write it just now.

I hear ICE grabbed one of my neighbors across the street. I was raised a white suburbanite, and our culture is not to know our neighbors. Not speaking Spanish also makes it harder for me. I didn't know him or know the circumstances, other than there was no sign anyone over there was a troublemaker. According to the 2020 census, South Gate, our little city of 7.4 square miles and 92,726 people, is 94.9% Hispanic and 41.9% foreign-born. I think most of them are here legally -- I know the older generation benefited from the Regan-era amnesty -- but lots of people have relatives or know people who don't have their papers in order. I actually have never seen ICE at work, although I've seen a couple of videos of them here in South Gate. I wonder whatever happened to my former next door neighbors, who were here illegally. That's how most people come to this country, especially refugees, hoping to get things worked out once they're here. This administration also keeps revoking people's legal status, creating illegal immigrants. The way this administration has been behaving is unnecessary and cruel, and I worry about a police force that seems answerable to no one.

I heard my next-door neighbor, Alicia, died. Leticia told me about it in her broken English, making the cut throat motion with her finger. She was not much older than me, but it was not entirely unexpected -- Alicia had been rumored to have died before, but always reemerged, but this time the Reaper seems to have done the job. She had been in kidney failure for some time. She never married and had no children, but she did help look after her autistic teenage nephew after her sister died. I respected her for that, but I haven't seen him in a while, either. She inherited the house from her father, who for some reason left it to her instead of her three sisters. Her elderly mother, her father's ex-wife, also lived there until she died. I heard once someone said her mother was a bruja or had the evil eye, but I don't know the source of that story and never saw evidence of it. Now I think there are two sisters left living there. We were never on good terms with them, especially not with Alicia, who claimed to own a strip of land that is clearly ours. She also took issue with our cats getting into her yard, even after we made every effort to keep them inside. Alicia spent a lot of time in her yard, first tending it, then sitting there after she could no longer tend to it. We didn't really interact, and I never knew how much English any of them knew. My last parallel interaction with her was when she got angry at Anastasia, who'd outrun me and stolen a flower. I can't say she'll be missed, but I wish that relationship had been better.

This week, I found a mason jar on a top shelf. The lid was labeled "Jalepeno Jelly 2014." I believe it was my ex-sister-in-law in Pennsylvania's sole attempt at a gift exchange, one that I'm embarrassed to say was not reciprocated. It was still sealed, and inside was a watery mass. I'm sorry it went to waste. It has sat in this house longer than the marriage survived. Finding something that has sat here so long makes me want to move. I put it back on the shelf. I feel bad about that relationship, too.

For a long time I was connected on Facebook with my other divorced sibling's ex-husband in Texas. They both had annulments in the Church, so I suppose they had civil marriages but religious abortions. It was interesting to see he drifted into Russian Orthodoxy, and we wound up with mutual friends in that world. I never contacted him, though. Maybe if I had stayed in Texas that relationship would have been different, also. I do wonder what my siblings' and my life would have been like if we had stayed in one place.

On Monday, I took Oscar and Max to their tumbling. Max has his first, then after a half-hour break Oscar has his. I think Max was in his session -- maybe it was between sessions -- when I heard the loud bang of a car crash. It was loud enough that I thought it was on the more major road, Atlantic Avenue, where cars can get to faster speeds. But then I saw emergency vehicles gathering at one of the park's entrances, across the street from the fire station. Everything seemed quiet, and then I heard loud wails, a woman in emotional distress. There was already a crowd and nothing I could do, so I stayed away to be out of the way. It was far enough away that the kids didn't even seem to notice.

While this was ongoing, Anne called. Leticia heard gunshots near the house, and the ghetto bird was overhead. She asked me to be cautious coming home, but we still had some time before that would happen.

The dual occurrences caused me to finally download the Citizen app. I'm reluctant to purchase any ongoing services, but Citizen has a free tier. The gunshots were only that, in the alley behind the bar near the house. The accident, Citizen reported, involved a horse. Animal control and a large animal vet were on the way.

Not long after, while Oscar was in his class, Max and I walked down to that part of the park. There were many police cars, and a group of officers stood around a man sitting on a curb. He was clearly being detained. A pickup truck was on the sidewalk, smashed against a downed utility pole, and linemen were at work on it. I didn't see anything else -- a horse or transport for one.

It turns out none of the horse story was true. Later, on various Facebook groups, I learned that two sisters were walking there, as they often do. It was dark, and it's an area where people stray into the street. You have to be very careful driving in that area not to hit pedestrians and bicyclists. In videos you can see it was very young man driving the truck. I don't know if he lost control and veered onto the sidewalk first, or if that happened after he hit the pedestrian. There are also rumors of racing with another car. One way or another he struck one of the sisters, who died that night. The confusion over the horse must have been that someone who called in reported not a horse, but a corpse in bad shape on the side of the road.

Also, it's been a year since David Lynch died. "One day the sadness will end, but I don't think today's the day."

It's hard to budget time around my obligations and my kids' various therapies and activities. To have more time to do other things I've decided to go to mass on Saturdays whenever possible. This Saturday was the feast of the Epiphany. Father Michael was making a surprise visit from Rome and officiated, and I got to shake his hand and speak to him briefly after mass. Nothing is certain in this life, but he seems to be on his way to becoming a bishop, or at least an important person in the Church.

On Sunday the plan was to take the kids to see The Magic of Sesame Street at the Hilburt Museum in Orange.

The little kids, and Max especially, have gotten bad about eloping. I took Anastasia on a walk to the Consentida to by a leash backpack for Max, since the one we had is so small on him now. Anstasia saw a Cookie Monster puppet there that she really wanted, so we got that, too. But while we were getting ready, I saw Max come in from outside, laughing, and so I immediately went looking for Anastasia. She'd gone down the street the bakery on the corner, the baker met me halfway looking for us. Two people were watching over her in the bakery parking lot, and neither of them looked at me very friendily.

On the way, we stopped for lunch at Al Tannour, an Iraqi restaurant in Anaheim that Anne and I discovered on our anniversary last year. The pictures on the walls of the marsh Arabs, and of the finds from Ur and other archaeological sites, always make me wistful. They remind me of high school reading Hooke's Middle Eastern Mythology, or standing on the subway reading Wolley's Ur of the Chaldees. I would have liked to have worked in Iraq.

I'd never been to the Hilburt Museum, which turned out to be in a quaint part of Old Towne Orange. I'd written about the neighborhood -- summaries of recorded buildings -- but never visited there. Anastasia brought her Elmo and Cookie Monster, and I thought the visit would mostly be for her. The exhibit consisted of one small room, where watercolors from the Hilburt's collection were shown. The kids weren't especially excited about it, and the little kids started acting up. But Oscar loved the art museum. A docent took him around on a scavenger hunt to find various imagery in the paintings. He said his favorite piece was the dragons, by which he meant New Year's dragons in a montage of Asian pop culture called Parade. He was disappointed that we only visited one wing of the museum, but we told him we'd take him back another time. When we got home, he spent a lot of time coloring.

Anne was animated about the art. She especially liked a painting of an orange orchard during the heyday of southern California horticulture, pre-WWII. She wants us to take her mother to the museum next time her parents visit.

A few days before Christmas break, Oscar had a cavity so bad that he broke a tooth. He was in school, and thought the tooth was just loose, so he wiggled it until it broke off. When I found out, I took him straight to the dentist. I felt like a failure as a parent, though. We take these kids to so many doctors and therapists, but have let dental work slide. Not anymore.

For a brief time, I used to got to a Coptic dentist on the corner near here. I don't know that he was such a great dentist, but I thought it was cool that he was a Copt. He had some Coptic propaganda in his waiting room, and I came away with a Coptic CD that I've never been able to access. Then my insurance changed, and he dropped me.

We also tried to work with Dental Associates of Torrance. The first time I went there, they took X-Rays and then sent me to a chair, where I waited for over an hour for the dentist. The dentist never came. Instead, a receptionist came to tell me they were closing and ask me to reschedule. I saw that this was common practice with them -- I saw one old Indian man limp in for an appointment and limp out without being seen. They also practice deceptively -- their staff will call and tell you that you missed an appointment, just to give you a false sense of urgency so you want to schedule immediately. Since they called me, I was able to tell them exactly what I think of them, and those bastards deserve whatever bad PR they get. I pulled all five of my family out of there, but we hadn't had a dentist since.

But I digress. We took Oscar to a place we'd been before, and made appointments for everyone. I was certain they'd recommend pulling all my teeth and replacing them with implants, or perhaps a few root canals. My father had to have root canals when he was about my age. But I don't think he had the same privilege growing up that I did.

At the very least, I thought they would want to pull my one remaining baby tooth (the result of hypodontia). Periodically, I run into dentists like the Copt who want to yank that one. When Oscar was young, and he wasn't losing teeth when we expected he would, I began to worry that his adult teeth would never come in, and that his baby teeth were all he would ever have.

As it was, I had no cavities. I did need a deep cleaning. They even said I should keep my baby tooth as long as possible, which is what every dentist who didn't want to yank it says.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, peace to people of good will!

I neglected to say that the reason Shackleton's Whiskey caught my eye was because of the historic back story.

I first learned about Shackleton in 2000, when I was digging at the Gault Site. I'd just come back from survey in Minnesota, where it was already snowing, and it was one of my first real jobs. Clark was one of the people overseeing work. He was a member of the Explorers' Club and even brought their flag to Gault. The documentary Endurance, narrated by Liam Neeson, had recently been released, and the guys there were excited about it. I never saw the documentary, but I did read The Endurance by Caroline Alexander, the book it was based on, and which one of the guys loaned to me, with its stunning images of the Endurance trapped in the ice.

It is an amazing story of Antarctic adventure. Shackleton failed to cross Antarctica, and lost his ship, but he brought all his men home, which is the greatest victory.

Since then, I've excavated in the Jordanian desert and other places several times, always overseen other people, and a few times been in real danger. I'm 46 years old now, and will never lead or even take part in an expedition like Shackleton's, but I understand the longing for adventure and greatness. If you're looking for kinship with Ernest Shackleton, drinking the whiskey he left behind on the ice while he saved the lives of his men is the least effective way to find it. I will, however, drink his whiskey.

It's the Christmas season, bringing with it many opportunities to feel inadequate as a parent. It's the most wonderful time of the year, ding dong.

Yesterday, I took Anne, Leticia, and the kids to Autism Advocates in Action's Breakfast with Santa. For years -- I don't know how long -- we had gone to the City of South Gate's Breakfast with Santa, but it was sold out last year. Fortunately there's a lot of opportunity in LA, and I googled until I found this one, which turned out to be even better. The event is held in Carson, an oil town south of LA, and the team that runs it is largely African-American. This year it was at the City Events Center. They had a catered breakfast, entertainment by a clown and singers the kids really enjoyed, and the obligatory visit by Santa. Even the City of Carson's elected officials were popular. (The mayor pro tem told stories about his niece with Downs syndrome, who only wanted to get her favorite CDs every year for Christmas.) At the end there was a gift giveaway, and an overzealous volunteer was concerned that Oscar might be trying to get too many gifts (which wasn't true), but we didn't let that overshadow the event.

I like Autism Advocates in Action in part because, unlike at least my perception of a lot of the organizations, it's not just for children with autism and their families. Many of the attendees were middle aged or even elderly people with autism. This year there seemed to be fewer children than last year. They also hold Valentine's Day dances and other events for adults with autism. I don't know how affected my kids are going to be as they get older, but if any of them do need support, I hope they have a community they can turn to, and the Autism Advocates in Action seem to provide that for a lot of people.

I tried the Shackleton's whiskey, which I found discounted to half price in my local barrio grocery store. It tasted about as one would expect early twentieth century government-issued whiskey that even explorers abandoned on the ice would taste -- not bad, but also nothing special. I will drink it anyway.

For some reason I can't see my friends' feed on my phone, which means I also can't "like" entries. I have to do everything on my laptop. It really is like the old LJ.

Busy day today. Up about six to get ready to take Oscar to his field trip, and Max and Anastasia were already up causing chaos. Got them ready and took them with me to drop Oscar off at the school. I was glad there were kids there he considers friends. For a while it seemed he would never make friends.

Anastasia was really upset that she didn't get to go in; she cried and slammed her head into my arm. She loves school, and with her speech barriers it's hard to know how much she understands. I took her and Max to South Gate Park for about half hour so they had something special, too, before their Applied Behavior Analysis therapy.

Leticia and the therapists came by at 10. At noon, Anne and I attended our Congressperson, Nannette Barragan's legislative year-end briefing. We started attending her events earlier this year, when she gave a talk in Croatian Hall in San Pedro right after Trump took office. I think this was the third, not counting when we attended the dedication of the new park in South Gate. (In the City archives there are now photos of Oscar with Barragan, the mayor, and other elected leaders, because Robert grabbed him for the photos. Someday someone will be trying to identify who this kid is.) She gave everyone lunch I like to hear what she has to say. It was a small gathering, maybe 50 people. There are usually a lot of local leaders are there in addition to just constituents like us. I recognized the vice mayor, and the planning commission chair was there. In the parking lot I saw a family struggling with a wheelchair, and later saw them with their wheelchair-bound child, younger than Oscar, older than Anastasia, who couldn't feed himself. I don't usually talk to any of them, but I figure it's good to be seen in case the day ever comes when I do need to interact with them. I am a lot more invested in it now, with three kids on the autism spectrum receiving help from the state, in addition to my job being tied to compliance with federal and cultural resources laws. Much of what I do and care about, and what helps my kids, is somehow tied to laws that Trump is actively trying to defund or revoke.

After that, dropped Anne off at the house and then picked up Oscar from his field trip. He'd been to The Huntington, and mostly wanted to tell me he'd seen sculptures and paintings of people showing their privates. He's eleven. He bought a little leather journal in the gift shop to add to his journal collection, and said he was going to write about his visit in it.

After that, while Anne and Anastasia rested, Oscar, Max, and I went to what we call Big Baby Cat Park. It's a small park with a play scape, apparently without its own name, connected to Hollydale Regional Park. We used to go there frequently and Oscar would be greeted by large black cat he named Big Baby Cat. Eventually -- around Halloween 2024, I think -- we brought Big Baby Cat home. It seemed none too soon, because all the cats there disappeared soon after. Now more cats have returned, including a large black cat which came to greet Oscar.

After that, returned home and slept.