The teacher “said the boy told her he had been shot in the face by a BB gun and had ‘perfectly circled bruises all over his face.’”
I can’t get these “perfectly circled bruises all over his face,” mentioned in aa article in the Los Angeles Times a couple weeks ago, out of my head. I guess I’ll never forget this and that it was one of the abuses done to an eight-year-old boy, Gabriel Fernandez, by his mother and her boyfriend.
Just like I can’t forget Johnny, who I posted about a couple years ago. Johnny was a boy about the same age abused by his mother and her boyfriend. Among other things, he was repeatedly burned all over with cigarettes and made to sit in his piss and shit and eat from a dog food bowl.
At least Johnny was rescued and reportedly thrived in a new home. Eight-year-old Gabriel, who lived in Palmdale near Los Angeles, died after suffering numerous injuries resulting from abuse, including a fractured skull, several broken ribs and burns. Pellets have also been found embedded in his lungs. The mother and the boyfriend, who said that Gabriel was being punished for “lying and being dirty,” were taken into custody, charged with murder and torture.
In addition to the pellets embedded in Gabriel’s lungs and other details about the injuries that he was made to suffer, such as black eyes and a “busted lip” as noted by the teacher, a steady stream of subsequent articles in the Times revealed that the county’s Department of Children and Family Services was well aware of the boy’s situation and did precious little to protect him. Social workers got many concerned calls about the child, including from the teacher, and they knew that the mother and the boyfriend were heavily involved in drugs and criminal activities, including with other children, but they were “overwhelmed” by hundreds of pages of sometimes contradictory rules as well as tremendous pressure to keep families intact.
When social workers would interview Gabriel in front of his mother and her boyfriend about his reports of abuse, he would recant them. Duh! And when the 8-year-old expressed a desire to commit suicide, the social workers dismissed it, because the boy “had no plans for carrying it out.” Several workers have been put on “desk duty” while the case is being investigated.
So Gabriel was tortured and killed, lost due to red tape and incompetence. The Los Angeles County Department of Children and Family Services has been known for poorly trained and swamped staff and its shoddy work and sometimes tragic record, since before Johnny was made to endure incomprehensible abuse until he was finally rescued after dozens of allegations.
Yes, this is outrageous - and there has been many commentaries and letters in the paper expressing outrage over what happened to Gabriel. It is tragic that this county department, which does vital and wrenching work, isn’t as well-funded and supervised as it must be, and I’ll add that there is a bitter irony in caring people not being able to adopt children in many places because of being gay or lesbian.
But what really bothers me, what I really want to know, is this: How can this be a society in which a parent can even think of punishing a child by using a BB gun to leave “perfectly circled bruises all over his face?”
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
A progress in work
Sometimes - okay, pretty often - I just have to say “wow!” about this small town where I live, with all the things going on and getting done here. And, here in my most recent column in the Claremont Courier, I’m not even talking about the eight colleges in Claremont which recently had their graduations, all but one in one crazy weekend.
CLAREMONTERS TAKE ON THE GOOD, THE BAD
Amy Andrews isn’t someone who we see as part of the Claremont community. We don’t think of her in Claremont.
We don’t want to think of her in Claremont.
Amy Andrews was a sex slave. She was a victim of human trafficking.
This happened when she was in her early teens, about 14. She had been in and out of foster homes, an incorrigible girl, a girl who was sexually abused in some of these homes, after being abandoned by her drug-addicted mother. A man, a man who she thought was nice, took her away, and she ended up in a locked house, working as the man’s prostitute.
This didn’t happen in some backwards, under-developed country. This didn’t happen in a far-off, impoverished region. This happened right next door, here in the Inland Empire. Ms. Andrews grew up in the Ontario area and met the “nice man” while spending time in Palm Springs. The man took her to a house in Los Angeles and later to Las Vegas.
She was probably driven through Claremont.
As much of a shock as this may be - it shocked me - it really shouldn’t be. It turns out that human trafficking, which includes not only prostitution but also domestic servitude and likely a range of things, is big businesses in America and that the Inland Empire is the “capital” of human trafficking in America.
News or not, this was the subject of an interfeith community forum last month in Claremont, sponsored by the Pomona Valley Chapter of Progressive Christians Uniting and co-sponsored by a range of groups, including the Interfeith Sustainability Council of the Pomona Valley, the Pomona Valley Affiliate of the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), the Democratic Club of Claremont and the Islamic Center of Claremont. It was here that I heard Ms. Andrews tell her story, giving a firsthand account of what happened to her. Ms. Andrews, now a successful mother and studying to be a healthcare professional, is quite a powerful and compelling speaker.
The lead speaker at the forum was Claremont’s State Assembly Member Chris Holden, who is sponsoring a bill to expand law officials’ wiretapping authority, with a judge’s permission, to those they suspect of human trafficking. As Ms. Andrews pointed out, most of the business of human trafficking. Again, Ms. Andrews was most compelling, and all the more so when she asked the audience to reach out and be compassionate to those who appear to be involved in prostitution (and to do so with discretion, for they may well be supervised).
The audience - that there was one there - was perhaps the most significant thing about the forum, which also included leaders from Christian and Islamic groups. The topic was one that is ugly, not nice, easy to ignore and dismiss, to say that it doesn’t happen here in Claremont, and the fact that there were people there to listen, to learn and to find out what they can do, says a lot.
It says that there are people here who care, who get involved in work that is not easy, who do more than attend the bright events, like the one that happened a few days earlier, when Uncommon Good’s Whole Earth Building had it’s grand opening.
Taking place on a sunny and warm Saturday morning, this was every bit a celebration of the good - the good that can happen and the good that does happen when people get together to make it happen. With music and blessings and excited speeches, this was a party for everything Claremonters can get done.
What’s more, this grand opening was groundbreaking. Literally. This building, right behind the Claremont Methodist Church on Foothill Boulevard, was built mostly by hand using materials, the dirt and the rocks and the plant matter, that was on the site, saving energy and resources and preventing further pollution and global warming. It was designed by “visionary architect” Erik Peterson, of the Claremont Environmental Design Group, for the Uncommon Good organization’s offices and events.
It was exciting enough to get to go inside this brand new unique and beautiful modern adobe building, opening right in time for Earth Day, with its thick walls and warren of small yet airy spaces. It was also a special treat to see Dolores Huerta, the legendary farm labor leader who worked alongside Cesar Chavez, giving some words of congratulations. She was joined by other officials and dignitaries like Claremont Mayor Opanyi Nasiali, Chief Anthony RedBlood Morales of the San Gabriel Band of Mission Indians and, again, Assemblymember Holden.
There were shouts of “Dolores! Dolores!” capturing the love, joy, accomplishment and pride - “Si, se puede!” - that the gathering was all about. It was indeed a bright celebration of what people in Claremont can do.
It was also a reminder that most of this work is just that - work. As Nancy Mintie, the Executive Director of Uncommon Good, emphasized during her remarks, putting the building up was exhausting, and there were days when she and her fellow workers wondered what they had gotten into.
Not only is this work that people in Claremont do hard, it is sometimes unpleasant, disturbing and downright dangerous. Reaching out to the Amy Andrews in our midst can lead to some dark, ugly and nasty places.
The people who are involved in this summer’s effort to end homelessness in Claremont know this. They are shining a light into a dark underside of Claremont, one that more often than not involves mental illness, addition and other distressing characteristics.
Not only are they shining a light on the problem, they are trying to bring light to the problem. The purposes of the campaign is not to ignore or ban the homeless in Claremont, as City officials have attempted to do in the past, but to reach out to them and help them get the resources they need - resources that are freely available but which can be not easy to get.
Like much that is done in Claremont, this is good, hard work.
CLAREMONTERS TAKE ON THE GOOD, THE BAD
Amy Andrews isn’t someone who we see as part of the Claremont community. We don’t think of her in Claremont.
We don’t want to think of her in Claremont.
Amy Andrews was a sex slave. She was a victim of human trafficking.
This happened when she was in her early teens, about 14. She had been in and out of foster homes, an incorrigible girl, a girl who was sexually abused in some of these homes, after being abandoned by her drug-addicted mother. A man, a man who she thought was nice, took her away, and she ended up in a locked house, working as the man’s prostitute.
This didn’t happen in some backwards, under-developed country. This didn’t happen in a far-off, impoverished region. This happened right next door, here in the Inland Empire. Ms. Andrews grew up in the Ontario area and met the “nice man” while spending time in Palm Springs. The man took her to a house in Los Angeles and later to Las Vegas.
She was probably driven through Claremont.
As much of a shock as this may be - it shocked me - it really shouldn’t be. It turns out that human trafficking, which includes not only prostitution but also domestic servitude and likely a range of things, is big businesses in America and that the Inland Empire is the “capital” of human trafficking in America.
News or not, this was the subject of an interfeith community forum last month in Claremont, sponsored by the Pomona Valley Chapter of Progressive Christians Uniting and co-sponsored by a range of groups, including the Interfeith Sustainability Council of the Pomona Valley, the Pomona Valley Affiliate of the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), the Democratic Club of Claremont and the Islamic Center of Claremont. It was here that I heard Ms. Andrews tell her story, giving a firsthand account of what happened to her. Ms. Andrews, now a successful mother and studying to be a healthcare professional, is quite a powerful and compelling speaker.
The lead speaker at the forum was Claremont’s State Assembly Member Chris Holden, who is sponsoring a bill to expand law officials’ wiretapping authority, with a judge’s permission, to those they suspect of human trafficking. As Ms. Andrews pointed out, most of the business of human trafficking. Again, Ms. Andrews was most compelling, and all the more so when she asked the audience to reach out and be compassionate to those who appear to be involved in prostitution (and to do so with discretion, for they may well be supervised).
The audience - that there was one there - was perhaps the most significant thing about the forum, which also included leaders from Christian and Islamic groups. The topic was one that is ugly, not nice, easy to ignore and dismiss, to say that it doesn’t happen here in Claremont, and the fact that there were people there to listen, to learn and to find out what they can do, says a lot.
It says that there are people here who care, who get involved in work that is not easy, who do more than attend the bright events, like the one that happened a few days earlier, when Uncommon Good’s Whole Earth Building had it’s grand opening.
Taking place on a sunny and warm Saturday morning, this was every bit a celebration of the good - the good that can happen and the good that does happen when people get together to make it happen. With music and blessings and excited speeches, this was a party for everything Claremonters can get done.
What’s more, this grand opening was groundbreaking. Literally. This building, right behind the Claremont Methodist Church on Foothill Boulevard, was built mostly by hand using materials, the dirt and the rocks and the plant matter, that was on the site, saving energy and resources and preventing further pollution and global warming. It was designed by “visionary architect” Erik Peterson, of the Claremont Environmental Design Group, for the Uncommon Good organization’s offices and events.
It was exciting enough to get to go inside this brand new unique and beautiful modern adobe building, opening right in time for Earth Day, with its thick walls and warren of small yet airy spaces. It was also a special treat to see Dolores Huerta, the legendary farm labor leader who worked alongside Cesar Chavez, giving some words of congratulations. She was joined by other officials and dignitaries like Claremont Mayor Opanyi Nasiali, Chief Anthony RedBlood Morales of the San Gabriel Band of Mission Indians and, again, Assemblymember Holden.
There were shouts of “Dolores! Dolores!” capturing the love, joy, accomplishment and pride - “Si, se puede!” - that the gathering was all about. It was indeed a bright celebration of what people in Claremont can do.
It was also a reminder that most of this work is just that - work. As Nancy Mintie, the Executive Director of Uncommon Good, emphasized during her remarks, putting the building up was exhausting, and there were days when she and her fellow workers wondered what they had gotten into.
Not only is this work that people in Claremont do hard, it is sometimes unpleasant, disturbing and downright dangerous. Reaching out to the Amy Andrews in our midst can lead to some dark, ugly and nasty places.
The people who are involved in this summer’s effort to end homelessness in Claremont know this. They are shining a light into a dark underside of Claremont, one that more often than not involves mental illness, addition and other distressing characteristics.
Not only are they shining a light on the problem, they are trying to bring light to the problem. The purposes of the campaign is not to ignore or ban the homeless in Claremont, as City officials have attempted to do in the past, but to reach out to them and help them get the resources they need - resources that are freely available but which can be not easy to get.
Like much that is done in Claremont, this is good, hard work.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
He who sings prays twice
He missed the music.
I met him when I was attending a P-FLAG meeting here in Claremont (long since defunct) about a dozen years ago. He said that he was looking for a new faith community, no longer feeling welcome in the faith community that he grew up in because of his homosexuality. I could tell that religion or faith was at least as important to him as it is for me, and a friend and I suggested he might like joining us at the Quaker meeting in Claremont.
He attended the meeting for a few months, and it was nice having another gay guy there. He said that he liked the quiet and the open-mindedness, the absence of dogma. He also said that he “missed the music” and ended up joining his boyfriend at the Church of the Brethren, close by in La Verne.
Earlier this month, I skipped meeting and checked out a service at the Church of the Brethren. I had recently attended a performance there by Peterson Toscano, a gay, Quaker performance artist who deals frequently with the Bible, and I figured that a church that invited him to perform would be cool. Also, I had long heard about the Church of the Brethren, that it is a “peace church” like the Quakers, and, besides, the La Verne church is a lovely, old church.
I saw my P-FLAG friend, who I hadn’t been in contact with in years, there, singing in the choir, and his boyfriend/partner was playing the piano and had written some music for the service. It was clear that they are very happy and totally at home at the church. It was nice to see this.
It was also clear that music is quite important at the church. It seemed to be almost a tenet. In fact, other than the simple stained glass windows, the only art in the sanctuary had to do with music, depicted in three scenes from the Bible.
It made me think yet again of what I saw on a poster or banner at a Catholic mass when I was growing up: “He who sings prays twice.” I have often thought of this, even putting it on a leather bracelet that I made for a summer camp counselor.
Yes, as I suspected, the Church of the Brethren is far more Bible-oriented, with scripture read, quoted - and, of course, sung. But it all seemed, at least on a initial visit, pretty mild, pretty gentle, without much pressure to believe certain things or in a certain way. I’m not saying there was no dogma, but it wasn’t like when I was visiting the gay-based Metropolitan Community Church a couple years ago and felt, in a weird and terrible irony, that I didn’t belong if I didn’t believe in or accept Jesus as my savior, assuming I’m a sinner and/or inadequate, in need of saving. In any case, I liked the emphasis on, as was said during the service, “doing, not saying.”
I didn’t get what I wanted at the MCC, but there are also times when Quaker meeting is just too quiet and small for me, especially, I recently realized, when I have to get up early on Sunday morning. There are times when I miss the music. And, although I usually resist it, there are times when I want to be guided and read to and even lectured (a bit).
I am at home at Quaker meeting, and I’ll always be a Quaker, an unprogrammed, silent-meeting Quaker. But don’t be surprised if I sometimes show up at the Brethren, or - who knows? - another church, now and then.
I met him when I was attending a P-FLAG meeting here in Claremont (long since defunct) about a dozen years ago. He said that he was looking for a new faith community, no longer feeling welcome in the faith community that he grew up in because of his homosexuality. I could tell that religion or faith was at least as important to him as it is for me, and a friend and I suggested he might like joining us at the Quaker meeting in Claremont.
He attended the meeting for a few months, and it was nice having another gay guy there. He said that he liked the quiet and the open-mindedness, the absence of dogma. He also said that he “missed the music” and ended up joining his boyfriend at the Church of the Brethren, close by in La Verne.
Earlier this month, I skipped meeting and checked out a service at the Church of the Brethren. I had recently attended a performance there by Peterson Toscano, a gay, Quaker performance artist who deals frequently with the Bible, and I figured that a church that invited him to perform would be cool. Also, I had long heard about the Church of the Brethren, that it is a “peace church” like the Quakers, and, besides, the La Verne church is a lovely, old church.
I saw my P-FLAG friend, who I hadn’t been in contact with in years, there, singing in the choir, and his boyfriend/partner was playing the piano and had written some music for the service. It was clear that they are very happy and totally at home at the church. It was nice to see this.
It was also clear that music is quite important at the church. It seemed to be almost a tenet. In fact, other than the simple stained glass windows, the only art in the sanctuary had to do with music, depicted in three scenes from the Bible.
It made me think yet again of what I saw on a poster or banner at a Catholic mass when I was growing up: “He who sings prays twice.” I have often thought of this, even putting it on a leather bracelet that I made for a summer camp counselor.
Yes, as I suspected, the Church of the Brethren is far more Bible-oriented, with scripture read, quoted - and, of course, sung. But it all seemed, at least on a initial visit, pretty mild, pretty gentle, without much pressure to believe certain things or in a certain way. I’m not saying there was no dogma, but it wasn’t like when I was visiting the gay-based Metropolitan Community Church a couple years ago and felt, in a weird and terrible irony, that I didn’t belong if I didn’t believe in or accept Jesus as my savior, assuming I’m a sinner and/or inadequate, in need of saving. In any case, I liked the emphasis on, as was said during the service, “doing, not saying.”
I didn’t get what I wanted at the MCC, but there are also times when Quaker meeting is just too quiet and small for me, especially, I recently realized, when I have to get up early on Sunday morning. There are times when I miss the music. And, although I usually resist it, there are times when I want to be guided and read to and even lectured (a bit).
I am at home at Quaker meeting, and I’ll always be a Quaker, an unprogrammed, silent-meeting Quaker. But don’t be surprised if I sometimes show up at the Brethren, or - who knows? - another church, now and then.
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
Guns for kiddies
Did you know that there are guns that are made for children? Not toy guns. (That’s already a problem right there.) But real guns. The kind that shoot real bullets. The kind that kill.
I didn’t.
I didn’t know this until I read a short article last week deep inside the Los Angeles Times about a 5-year-old boy in Kentucky shooting and killing his 2-year-old sister. It was an accident.
But this wasn’t another story about a child finding a parent’s gun, with tragic results. The gun - a rifle - was given to the boy. It was a gift. A birthday gift last year.
Apparently, there are guns made for little kids. According to the article, “The rifle is a Cricket designed for children and sold under the slogan ‘My First Rifle,’ according to the company’s website. It is a smaller weapon that comes in child-like colors, including pink, red and swirls.”
Sure, “this was just a tragic accident” and “very, very rare,” as the county coroner says, but, on top of wondering how the parents now feel about this gift, I am left with this question: When guns are made for children, “in child-like colors,” when guns are given to five-year-olds, how can we argue, logically, sensibly, for gun restrictions using a schoolyard massacre as a reason for doing so?
I didn’t.
I didn’t know this until I read a short article last week deep inside the Los Angeles Times about a 5-year-old boy in Kentucky shooting and killing his 2-year-old sister. It was an accident.
But this wasn’t another story about a child finding a parent’s gun, with tragic results. The gun - a rifle - was given to the boy. It was a gift. A birthday gift last year.
Apparently, there are guns made for little kids. According to the article, “The rifle is a Cricket designed for children and sold under the slogan ‘My First Rifle,’ according to the company’s website. It is a smaller weapon that comes in child-like colors, including pink, red and swirls.”
Sure, “this was just a tragic accident” and “very, very rare,” as the county coroner says, but, on top of wondering how the parents now feel about this gift, I am left with this question: When guns are made for children, “in child-like colors,” when guns are given to five-year-olds, how can we argue, logically, sensibly, for gun restrictions using a schoolyard massacre as a reason for doing so?
Monday, May 6, 2013
Play ball - like it or not!
I didn’t think I would get all shook up by a baseball movie.
The other night, I saw “42,” and there were a couple times when I almost bursted out crying. I had read a lot about this docudrama about Jackie Robinson, the first non-white man to play major league baseball when he begun playing for the Brooklyn Dodgers in the 1940's after playing in the Negro leagues, but I frankly wasn’t ready for how powerful and moving this film is.
This isn’t your typical movie about the glory and glamor of sports. And it’s not exactly a feel-good movie about making history. Sure, there are plenty of heroics and excitement, but they are more like those seen in a war zone rather than a playing fields, with Robinson facing boos, nasty racial epithets and violent threats from fans and players and with teammates and the whole team not welcome in some places. That this ugly, war zone of hate is this country is most disturbing (and seeing that Philadelphia, “the city of brotherly love,” a city known for its Quakers, was so viciously racist at the time is particularly eye-opening and jolting).
Robinson was famously told “to be man enough not to fight back,” and he famously was. In the film, it is absolutely heart-breaking to see him break down and let out all his rage in private.
Perhaps the reason why I was shaken up so by this movie is that I can relate right now. This Spring, as baseball season is well underway, I, as a gay man and with the nation waiting for key decisions, I know a bit of what Jackie Robinson felt.
If my heart didn’t break, it definitely sank when I read about the proposal by top officials of the Boy Scouts of America, up for a vote later this month by members, to resolve the controversy over the organization’s anti-gay stance by letting gay boys be scouts while continuing to exclude homosexual adults as leaders. As unsatisfying as this compromise position is to virtually everybody for numerous reasons, what I found really upsetting was the reaction to it, with people on both sides of the issue once again saying damaging, ugly things about the other. “I think it’s strictly the religious people saying, ‘They’re terrible people, they’re not moral,’” said Howard Menzer, who heads Scouting for All, a San Diego advocacy group, as Tony Perkins, the president of the conservative Family Research Council, called the proposal “an affront to the notion that Scouts are brave, reverent and ‘morally straight.’” Of course, what this means is that no matter what is ultimately decided, school people, if not everyone, will be unhappy to say the least.
It is hard not to feel, as a gay man, like the eye of a nasty storm, with a vital aspect of who I am being picked over and tossed about. At the risk of mixing sports metaphors, I said in an earlier post about court rulings on same-sex marriage, that I don’t like being a football, being punted between the opposing sides.
This is all the more the case as the Defense of Marriage Act and California’s Proposition 8, banning same-sex marriage, are in the hands of the U.S Supreme Court, with decisions due by July. Yes, it is encouraging that many commentators are saying there will be a partial ruling, if not a broad-based, nationwide ruling, in favor of gay marriage and that a few Republican U.S Senators have changed their minds and now endorse gay marriage, we really don’t know what the decision - which will no doubt make some unhappy - will be until it’s announced. And while it is encouraging that an active, professional, male athlete (a black one, to boot) has come out as gay for the first time - a situation not unlike Robinson’s - and that a state lawmaker (also black) in Nevada (!)recently came out, it is just plain not nice that U.S Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia has compared homosexuality to murder.
The other night, I saw “42,” and there were a couple times when I almost bursted out crying. I had read a lot about this docudrama about Jackie Robinson, the first non-white man to play major league baseball when he begun playing for the Brooklyn Dodgers in the 1940's after playing in the Negro leagues, but I frankly wasn’t ready for how powerful and moving this film is.
This isn’t your typical movie about the glory and glamor of sports. And it’s not exactly a feel-good movie about making history. Sure, there are plenty of heroics and excitement, but they are more like those seen in a war zone rather than a playing fields, with Robinson facing boos, nasty racial epithets and violent threats from fans and players and with teammates and the whole team not welcome in some places. That this ugly, war zone of hate is this country is most disturbing (and seeing that Philadelphia, “the city of brotherly love,” a city known for its Quakers, was so viciously racist at the time is particularly eye-opening and jolting).
Robinson was famously told “to be man enough not to fight back,” and he famously was. In the film, it is absolutely heart-breaking to see him break down and let out all his rage in private.
Perhaps the reason why I was shaken up so by this movie is that I can relate right now. This Spring, as baseball season is well underway, I, as a gay man and with the nation waiting for key decisions, I know a bit of what Jackie Robinson felt.
If my heart didn’t break, it definitely sank when I read about the proposal by top officials of the Boy Scouts of America, up for a vote later this month by members, to resolve the controversy over the organization’s anti-gay stance by letting gay boys be scouts while continuing to exclude homosexual adults as leaders. As unsatisfying as this compromise position is to virtually everybody for numerous reasons, what I found really upsetting was the reaction to it, with people on both sides of the issue once again saying damaging, ugly things about the other. “I think it’s strictly the religious people saying, ‘They’re terrible people, they’re not moral,’” said Howard Menzer, who heads Scouting for All, a San Diego advocacy group, as Tony Perkins, the president of the conservative Family Research Council, called the proposal “an affront to the notion that Scouts are brave, reverent and ‘morally straight.’” Of course, what this means is that no matter what is ultimately decided, school people, if not everyone, will be unhappy to say the least.
It is hard not to feel, as a gay man, like the eye of a nasty storm, with a vital aspect of who I am being picked over and tossed about. At the risk of mixing sports metaphors, I said in an earlier post about court rulings on same-sex marriage, that I don’t like being a football, being punted between the opposing sides.
This is all the more the case as the Defense of Marriage Act and California’s Proposition 8, banning same-sex marriage, are in the hands of the U.S Supreme Court, with decisions due by July. Yes, it is encouraging that many commentators are saying there will be a partial ruling, if not a broad-based, nationwide ruling, in favor of gay marriage and that a few Republican U.S Senators have changed their minds and now endorse gay marriage, we really don’t know what the decision - which will no doubt make some unhappy - will be until it’s announced. And while it is encouraging that an active, professional, male athlete (a black one, to boot) has come out as gay for the first time - a situation not unlike Robinson’s - and that a state lawmaker (also black) in Nevada (!)recently came out, it is just plain not nice that U.S Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia has compared homosexuality to murder.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Best of both worlds
I am well-known for my love of live theater and for how much I enjoy living in Claremont. Here, in my column that appeared in last Friday’s Claremont Courier, they collide wonderfully.
GROWING TO A NEW STAGE IN CLAREMONT
Too bad The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee isn’t still playing. I would say run, don’t walk, to this Claremont High School theater production.
The musical, which played for two weekends last month, certainly should be still going on. When I saw it, I was simply astounded for the entire two hours. It was the best, or best done, show that I have seen in years. Of any show, including professionally done stuff in Los Angeles and Hollywood.
Not only that. I saw the play on the next to the last night, and I told my friend who was out from L.A that he had to see it. My friend, who has seen and done lots of theater in L.A and New York, saw the final performance and was floored. He said that the show was better than many professional shows he has seen and that “those kids should be getting paid to be on stage in West Hollywood.”
Indeed, it was the kids who made the show. I had seen the play before and thought it was okay and thought I wouldn’t see this production. But because it was at Sycamore School auditorium - an unusual venue and easily accessible in my wheelchair - I decided to go, and the acting was a revelation. It wasn’t just acting; these students had grown into and were living their characters.
Although the characters weren’t much more than caricatures, the students made them real and whole. All were excellent, but two of the cast members stood out. Emerson Dauwalder was hysterical as he totally tripped out playing Leaf Coneybear, the trippy, blissed-out home-schooled hippie kid. And the way Hunter Alkonis, as Mitch Mahoney, escorting the losing spelling bee contestants as part of his community service sentence, conveyed worlds of emotions in a look or a touch was breathtaking. Both also, in brief scenes, portrayed a pair of gay dads with considerable sensitivity.
No doubt the production taking place in a funky old school auditorium, much like the musical’s setting, contributed to its perfect-storm authenticity. There was also the work of the director and choreographer, D.J Gray, returning to her alma maters (C.H.S and Sycamore) after doing much professional theater work, including on Spelling Bee. And Krista Carson Elhai, who has done remarkable work as the high school theater director, clearly had a hand in the doings as producer.
While this production was done at Sycamore School for very practical reasons - the theater at the high school was being renovated and was no doubt still torn up - the unique venue not only made the show even better. In so doing, it made the opening of the new theater a couple weeks later all the more exciting. And more meaningful.
Yes, I say “new” theater. It is true that the theater was renovated, but, on top of it being renamed the Donald F. Fruechte Theatre for the Performing Arts in honor of Ms. Elhai’s predecessor who founded the high school’s theater department and is just as legendary to those who attended C.H.S, it is definitely a new space.
While I don’t know if I can call it beautiful, the theater is certainly no longer a dingey, cramp hole with, among other features, wheelchair accommodations that were, frankly, a joke. Not only do I no longer have to maneuver through a black backstage area in my wheelchair, but with comfortable flip-up seats instead of folding metal chairs and without steep stairs and narrow passageways, the theater is now more accessible and welcoming to everybody.
Because the theater was barely accessible and not that welcoming, I wasn’t seeing most of the remarkable work that Ms. Elhai and her students were putting on. And it’s really why I went to the production at Sycamore School.
I thought about all this when I attended the ribbon-cutting ceremony and opening with a line-up of school and city officials and other dignitaries last month, thrilled to see the changes made. I was also delighted that they were the result of a great, true community effort, with thousands and thousands of dollars given, earning a matching grant from the state.
But what I was really thinking on the bright, early Spring afternoon was, these kids deserve this! For their hard, amazing work, stunningly evidenced in Spelling Bee, they deserve this community effort, this community support. Just as my friend said they deserve to be paid to play in West Hollywood, they deserve this nice, real, state-of-the-art theater instead of a dark hole in the wall.
These bright, creative students, many of whom may have trouble fitting in in other areas of the campus, deserve this place to be safe and to grow and be their best. Like the boy who could barely speak in a math class I was in when at the high school and who I was amazed to see not only in a theater production but singing and dancing in the production
As Andrew Lindvall, a 2010 C.H.S graduate in town during the week of the opening, commented, “Ms. Elhai was one of the first teachers I ever had who would give you the responsibility to do something and expected you to do it. There’s an intensity that has prepared me for everything I’ve done thereafter. You don’t just learn art here, you learn occupational skills.”
And there was this from C.H.S Principal Brett O’Connor: “To have students leaving with employable skills is good for the school, good for the community and good for the country. This is a program we can be very proud of.”
GROWING TO A NEW STAGE IN CLAREMONT
Too bad The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee isn’t still playing. I would say run, don’t walk, to this Claremont High School theater production.
The musical, which played for two weekends last month, certainly should be still going on. When I saw it, I was simply astounded for the entire two hours. It was the best, or best done, show that I have seen in years. Of any show, including professionally done stuff in Los Angeles and Hollywood.
Not only that. I saw the play on the next to the last night, and I told my friend who was out from L.A that he had to see it. My friend, who has seen and done lots of theater in L.A and New York, saw the final performance and was floored. He said that the show was better than many professional shows he has seen and that “those kids should be getting paid to be on stage in West Hollywood.”
Indeed, it was the kids who made the show. I had seen the play before and thought it was okay and thought I wouldn’t see this production. But because it was at Sycamore School auditorium - an unusual venue and easily accessible in my wheelchair - I decided to go, and the acting was a revelation. It wasn’t just acting; these students had grown into and were living their characters.
Although the characters weren’t much more than caricatures, the students made them real and whole. All were excellent, but two of the cast members stood out. Emerson Dauwalder was hysterical as he totally tripped out playing Leaf Coneybear, the trippy, blissed-out home-schooled hippie kid. And the way Hunter Alkonis, as Mitch Mahoney, escorting the losing spelling bee contestants as part of his community service sentence, conveyed worlds of emotions in a look or a touch was breathtaking. Both also, in brief scenes, portrayed a pair of gay dads with considerable sensitivity.
No doubt the production taking place in a funky old school auditorium, much like the musical’s setting, contributed to its perfect-storm authenticity. There was also the work of the director and choreographer, D.J Gray, returning to her alma maters (C.H.S and Sycamore) after doing much professional theater work, including on Spelling Bee. And Krista Carson Elhai, who has done remarkable work as the high school theater director, clearly had a hand in the doings as producer.
While this production was done at Sycamore School for very practical reasons - the theater at the high school was being renovated and was no doubt still torn up - the unique venue not only made the show even better. In so doing, it made the opening of the new theater a couple weeks later all the more exciting. And more meaningful.
Yes, I say “new” theater. It is true that the theater was renovated, but, on top of it being renamed the Donald F. Fruechte Theatre for the Performing Arts in honor of Ms. Elhai’s predecessor who founded the high school’s theater department and is just as legendary to those who attended C.H.S, it is definitely a new space.
While I don’t know if I can call it beautiful, the theater is certainly no longer a dingey, cramp hole with, among other features, wheelchair accommodations that were, frankly, a joke. Not only do I no longer have to maneuver through a black backstage area in my wheelchair, but with comfortable flip-up seats instead of folding metal chairs and without steep stairs and narrow passageways, the theater is now more accessible and welcoming to everybody.
Because the theater was barely accessible and not that welcoming, I wasn’t seeing most of the remarkable work that Ms. Elhai and her students were putting on. And it’s really why I went to the production at Sycamore School.
I thought about all this when I attended the ribbon-cutting ceremony and opening with a line-up of school and city officials and other dignitaries last month, thrilled to see the changes made. I was also delighted that they were the result of a great, true community effort, with thousands and thousands of dollars given, earning a matching grant from the state.
But what I was really thinking on the bright, early Spring afternoon was, these kids deserve this! For their hard, amazing work, stunningly evidenced in Spelling Bee, they deserve this community effort, this community support. Just as my friend said they deserve to be paid to play in West Hollywood, they deserve this nice, real, state-of-the-art theater instead of a dark hole in the wall.
These bright, creative students, many of whom may have trouble fitting in in other areas of the campus, deserve this place to be safe and to grow and be their best. Like the boy who could barely speak in a math class I was in when at the high school and who I was amazed to see not only in a theater production but singing and dancing in the production
As Andrew Lindvall, a 2010 C.H.S graduate in town during the week of the opening, commented, “Ms. Elhai was one of the first teachers I ever had who would give you the responsibility to do something and expected you to do it. There’s an intensity that has prepared me for everything I’ve done thereafter. You don’t just learn art here, you learn occupational skills.”
And there was this from C.H.S Principal Brett O’Connor: “To have students leaving with employable skills is good for the school, good for the community and good for the country. This is a program we can be very proud of.”
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Not what we need
Really?
Being disabled isn’t easy, and there are lots of inconveniences and indignities that go along with it. I could probably come up with as endless list if I got going. But being awaited $8,000 in a lawsuit for putting up with one?
Really?
According to the Los Angeles Times recently, 52-year-old Jose Martinez got $8,000 after being stuck on the “It’s a Small World” ride at Disneyland for half an hour when the ride broke down and was evacuated, with the music reportedly blaring the whole time, on November 27, 2007. Mr. Martinez was visiting Disneyland for the first time since he was a child, and, according to his lawyer, David Geffen, his disabilities “hit him hard and right in the face as soon as the ride stopped.”
Oh, please!
Sure, it was Hell waiting for half an hour, especially with that damn song going on. But it wasn’t like there was a fire. It wasn’t like he was in danger.
How about getting free tickets or a free year pass from Disneyland? Once, when I took an Amtrak train to San Diego on my own to spend the weekend with a friend, as I had done a number of times, and my friend put me on the train for the return trip, he got into a big argument with the conductor, who insisted my friend had to accompany me on the two-and-a-half-hour trip. Luckily, my friend didn’t end up having to stay with me, but I was upset and traumatized, feeling insulted and made to be a burden. I wrote a letter to Amtrak and was given free tickets and was told that the conductor was disciplined. I was happy with this.
Why couldn’t something like this satisfy Mr. Martinez? Instead, he has become like the woman who sued McDonald’s over hot coffee and makes the disabled look like that. He makes the disabled look silly and greedy. He gives the disabled a bad name.
This doesn’t help now when there is much commentary and chatter about an increasing number of people getting disability benefits. Never mind that there are valid reason like more people living longer. There is the notion that disability is the new welfare. Like when Homer Simpson got on disability.
What’s more, things like this only make it harder and harder to get the services and funding I need to live independently and productively. Every year, it seems I have to submit more and more documentation to prove that I’m still disabled. I want to ask why they come and look at me and try to talk to me. And how nice it would be if I could say I’m no longer disabled!
Being disabled isn’t easy, and there are lots of inconveniences and indignities that go along with it. I could probably come up with as endless list if I got going. But being awaited $8,000 in a lawsuit for putting up with one?
Really?
According to the Los Angeles Times recently, 52-year-old Jose Martinez got $8,000 after being stuck on the “It’s a Small World” ride at Disneyland for half an hour when the ride broke down and was evacuated, with the music reportedly blaring the whole time, on November 27, 2007. Mr. Martinez was visiting Disneyland for the first time since he was a child, and, according to his lawyer, David Geffen, his disabilities “hit him hard and right in the face as soon as the ride stopped.”
Oh, please!
Sure, it was Hell waiting for half an hour, especially with that damn song going on. But it wasn’t like there was a fire. It wasn’t like he was in danger.
How about getting free tickets or a free year pass from Disneyland? Once, when I took an Amtrak train to San Diego on my own to spend the weekend with a friend, as I had done a number of times, and my friend put me on the train for the return trip, he got into a big argument with the conductor, who insisted my friend had to accompany me on the two-and-a-half-hour trip. Luckily, my friend didn’t end up having to stay with me, but I was upset and traumatized, feeling insulted and made to be a burden. I wrote a letter to Amtrak and was given free tickets and was told that the conductor was disciplined. I was happy with this.
Why couldn’t something like this satisfy Mr. Martinez? Instead, he has become like the woman who sued McDonald’s over hot coffee and makes the disabled look like that. He makes the disabled look silly and greedy. He gives the disabled a bad name.
This doesn’t help now when there is much commentary and chatter about an increasing number of people getting disability benefits. Never mind that there are valid reason like more people living longer. There is the notion that disability is the new welfare. Like when Homer Simpson got on disability.
What’s more, things like this only make it harder and harder to get the services and funding I need to live independently and productively. Every year, it seems I have to submit more and more documentation to prove that I’m still disabled. I want to ask why they come and look at me and try to talk to me. And how nice it would be if I could say I’m no longer disabled!
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