Living my life is worth more

 

   Lately, I’ve been trying to hire a personal care attendant (PCA). Yes, a personal care attendant, someone to assist me, to attend to my personal care needs – bathing, toileting, dressing, grooming, feeding, cooking, housekeeping, driving, etc.  At least, that used to be the preferred term. 

   Now, it seems that the preferred term is caregiver, at least on job sites and the like.  I have a problem with this, with “caregiver.” It’s bad enough that, at least on Craigslist, job like this are categorized as healthcare, as if I need a nurse or CNA, unless I venture into the wild west of “et cetera.” But that’s another gripe for another day.

   My problem with “caregiver” is that it implies that the care is offered voluntarily, as a gift (giver), without the need or expectation of much or any compensation. As a result, at least in the publicly funded realm (which I rely on), a caregiver, like many in the caring or domestic professions, like baby-sitters, day-care workers, CNAs, even teachers, isn’t paid more or much more than minimum wage or more than the least they can be paid.  In other words, my attendants, who enable me literally to live my life and to be a productive member of society, should be paid more, much more, than the amount that is typically paid by governmental agencies. 

   In addition, the term “caregiver” is not a professional term.  Again, it implies that help is given, that something is volunteered, rather than a job to be done and paid well or fairly for.  Also, and perhaps most importantly, “caregiver” implies that I rely on their kindness and not that they are here because they are being paid.  Yes, my attendants hopefully aren’t here just for the money, but what I like about “personal care attendant” rather than “caregiver” is that it implies that they are employed and paid to do a job for me, a critical, vital job, to attend to my needs to live my life.   

A new life, or life anew?

 

   This weekend was the first with new 12-hour shifts for my attendants, meaning I had one attendant from 7 a.m to 7 p.m and another from 7 p.m to 7 p.m.  I was free to go on an afternoon outing, and so, on Saturday, I went to Lytle Creek, a tiny community in a narrow canyon with a creek running through it.  It was about 40 minutes but a world away and exactly what I needed – both a balm and a gentle kick in the pants. 

   We got out at a picnic area and found a spot by the babbling creek (er, brook), under trees with Spring-green leaves rustling in a gentle breeze.  It was idyllic, bucolic, all that, and I sat there and was transported, as they say.  I was reminded that I need to get out more after holing up these last couple years, and I will try to do so.  I just wish gas wasn’t so expensive.  Bad timing! 

   As I sat there, I recognized that, yes, I’m sad that I’m not really able to go camping anymore.  In the years before my spinal surgery, in pursuit of a cheaper way to get away, I got to really enjoy camping, mostly at the beach, as labor-intensive as it was.  Now, primarily because of my bedding needs, it would be all but impossible for me to go camping, at least on my budget. 

   But I was also aware of being glad that I could get out and sit by a creek like this, if only for an hour or two, and hopeful that I will be doing more things like this. 

   Since then, I’ve been reflecting on this tension between wanting to live life as I used to and wanting to make the best of my life as it is now.  I keep saying I have a new life and that I’m excited to find out how to live it to its fullest, but I find I keep trying to live the life I used to or something like it and wondering if that’s okay or crazy. 

   Does it make sense for me to do things like find a creek to sit by for a hour or two – something a bit like going camping, which makes me happy but also sad?  Or should I just do things that are completely different – a complete break – like just going to the movies and performances at the colleges and streaming movies and shows at home?  (Then again, a scene in a film or show may well remind me of going camping or when I was in a certain spot up north or in Europe or wherever – which, in a way, is more painful than when I’m doing something that is close to camping.)

    This applies to different areas of my life. I just discovered that I prefer to have my teeth brushed in the bathroom after I’m in my wheelchair in the morning rather than in my bed as has been done since the surgery five years ago.  In this case, wanting to do something like I used to makes sense, because it’s easy and is normal and less like convalescing. 

   But what about wearing overalls?  For many years, I wore overalls everyday.  I enjoyed wearing overalls, and I enjoyed that I got to be known for it (my “handle” online is Overalls Guy – not what I intended, but it grew on me or, perhaps more correctly, I grew into it). Since my surgery, though, putting on and taking off overalls is notably harder (and painful), and, with sadness, I’ve been getting rid of many of the literally dozens of overalls that I had.  But I’ve kept the larger, looser ones (as well as the shortalls and cut-offs which are easier to put on and take off, especially when I don’t wear a shirt). I’ve been enjoying wearing these lately, but it does take more effort and involves some pain.  Does this make sense?  I wonder.  But it’s also fine to wear some cool sweatpants, scrubs and shorts that I have on some days – right?  After all, isn’t variety the spice of life? 

   I’m getting ready to switch my bedroom and office, so there’ll be more room to transfer me into and out of bed, and I’ve pretty much decided I need to get rid of my futon, which is now in my office and won’t fit in my new office. It is a large wooden futon, possibly handmade, and I bought it like 25 years ago when such things were in.  My father said I was a fool, but I was proud to have it for visitors who sometimes sat in my office and for guests who stayed overnight.  Later, it was put to good use when guys came over to be intimate and/or sleep with me (which is no longer possible with my increased disability and the pain I now have).  Having the futon has meant a lot to me over these years, but as with all the overalls I’ve been getting rid of (I hope some cool guy or guys buy them and enjoy wearing them), it is hard and sad to let it go, but it doesn’t make sense to keep it.

   Yes, life does go on and things do change and we do move on, but does bringing in the new really or always have to mean out with the old? 

A safe - too safe? - town

 

   Once, when my brother was in high school here in Claremont, he was walking home from his girlfriend’s when he was stopped by the police.  Within minutes, he was spread-eagled on the ground and there were five police cars. 

   What the Hell?  My brother was a quiet, serious, college-bound student, definitely not one to be on the wrong side of the law, mixed up with the cops. 

   It turned out that there had been a report of a peeping Tom in the neighborhood, and my brother was spotted and immediately suspected.  (That Tom is my brother’s name was only darkly amusing.)

   That’s Claremont, a town where the police not only take peeping Tom reports seriously but are known to harass teens and, notoriously, Black motorists (Driving While Black in Claremont has been called, only half-jokingly, a crime) but also where we love the relatively safe, small-town feel.  This is a town where a cool weekly street fair in the downtown Village area was ended after a couple years, because it was too much “like the county fair” and probably was drawing the wrong kind of people (even as more people are wanted in the Village – and the Village has become quite a hot – some might say too hot – spot).

   I explored this in a column published in the Claremont Courier (actually a special Claremont Living section) on Friday.

 

   AFTER THE QUIET, TIME TO TALK ABOUT THE VILLAGE

   Don’t say I didn’t say so. 

   In about five years, there will be a store in Upland.  Or Pomona.  Or Ontario.  Just not in Claremont. But it will be called the Claremont Green Stop. 

   Something like that.  If not the Claremont Dispensary.  Or the Claremont Marijuana Dispensary. 

   Just like what happened twenty years ago or so, when someone wanted to open a tattoo parlor in Claremont – in the Village, specifically.  After weeks of back-and-forth with the city council, the plan was denied.  A few years later, the Claremont Tattoo Studio opened – in Rancho Cucamonga.

    Never mind that, even at that time, there were plenty of people going around Claremont, around the Village, sporting tattoos.  Heck, there were guys working at Some Crust bakery, a block down the street from the proposed site of the tattoo parlor, with tattoos covering a good part of their arms and legs.

   The city did eventually allow tattoo parlors within its borders.  But just barely, only in certain industrial-type corners.  Certainly not in the Village.  I don’t know of any establishments that have taken the city up on its offer.  The Claremont Tattoo Studio definitely hasn’t.   

   As with tattoos, marijuana is more and more commonplace.  It is now legal in California, not only for medicinal use but also for recreational use.  And please don’t tell me that there aren’t folks in Claremont who partake of the herb.

   But what about there being a marijuana dispensary – a pot shop – in Claremont?  Is this even a possibility? 

  This is what I was wondering before and, yes, after attending a meeting recently.  The meeting was one of two identical ones on Zoom quietly – too quietly, I would say – presented by the city on the vague topic of “cannabis in Claremont.” I was wondering what this was about so tuned in to find out. 

   It turned out the meeting was basically about opening a marijuana dispensary in Claremont and how it could be done.  The featured speaker was an older man named David MacPearson, who certainly didn’t look like a wild-eyed pot-head advocating pot shops.  He presented lots of data, and his primary message was that marijuana dispensaries are becoming a fact of life, can be a tremendous revenue generator for municipalities and can, with the will to do so and with careful planning, be safely and even tastefully included in Claremont. 

   The question is if we in Claremont have the will and even want to bother with the careful planning. 

   I have to wonder if we do. 

   I don’t know if a pot shop would work in the Village.  Or if a dispensary should be in Claremont, whether the Village or someplace else.  But I also don’t know if we should outright dismiss having a marijuana dispensary in Claremont, seeing as how, as presented at the recent meeting, they will be more and more commonplace and can greatly benefit the town in sales tax and can be safely and tastefully included. 

   I do know that, when it comes to the Village, this is a time to really consider or re-think what we want.  As has been noted at length in these pages, the Village is changing.  And now is the time to take control of what the change will be. 

   With the Laemmle Cinemas due to close who knows when, with Rhino Records moving to Montclair, with The Press closed for two years and not looking like it will reopen, the Village is indeed changing.  Something is afoot, whether caused by the devastating pandemic or that and other factors – the pandemic was no doubt at least a part, or perhaps the last straw, in this. 

   There is the feeling that the Village, not to mention Claremont with the recent closing of the Candlelight Pavilion, is losing its soul, the very things, the unique, special places that drew people. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that they are what made Claremont Claremont, but they were a part of what makes this town so attractive.

   Take the Laemmle Cinema, part of a chain, yes, but one which is local and manages to have a Claremont feel.  Early on in the pandemic, there was a small notice in these pages saying that the theater was up for sale and that this news “stung.” It did indeed sting, so it was quite a relief, when, about a year later, there was a big article saying that the theater was staying, at least for the time being. 

   This made the news earlier this year that the theater will close soon all the more devastating.  Personally, with my increased disability, I’m not up to schlepping to Pasadena, as I used to on a crazily regular basis, to see independent and foreign films before the Claremont 5 opened. (Claremont didn’t have a movie theater since the 1970’s, when the Village Theater, operated by the Mann chain where Harvard Square now is at Harvard and Bonita in the Village, closed.)  On the other hand, I’ve gotten used to and actually enjoy watching films streaming or rented on Amazon on my television – which, I know, I know, is blasphemy, cinematically speaking, and is why the local bijou is now closing, since many others are finding the same. 

   To make the matter even more wrenching, we are told that a restaurant is slated to move into the building. A restaurant.  When the Village is all but over-flowing with eateries. 

   Do we really need another restaurant in the Village?  Think of how much better, how much more interesting, how much livelier it would be if another small theater chain or even an independent exhibitor were to move in.  If only! 

   Do we want the Village to be filled with restaurants and little shops that all look the same? Cute, little boutiques that draw the same people?  Do we want the Village to look like just another downtown? 

   It may well me that a marijuana dispensary, no matter how regulated, safe and tasteful, won’t be a good fit in the Village (although one could fit perhaps elsewhere in town). But now is definitely a time to talk about what is a good fit in the Village.