Land of Iron Giants: Port is not a beverage

Sometimes it's hard to tell the good guys from the bad guys - when you get involved in community activism, it doesn't take long before it becomes clear that everyone who is passionate about something is the enemy of someone else who is passionate about the opposite thing.

The late Senator Edward Kennedy knew a few things about compromise and he is best remembered for getting legislation passed by enrolling both sides of the aisle. In the shouting matches at recent Town Hall meetings on the very contentious issue of health care for all U.S. residents, it seems to those of us who know families without coverage (living in fear of losing their home, retirement savings, or a loved one from untreated illnesses or inadequate care), find the nay-sayers to be just shy of evil. And yet they come and shout we're all going to Communist hell if universal health care becomes a reality - what's up with that!

But that's not what I want to talk about. Today the Daily Breeze covered a story about angry Rolling Hills residents (that's the rich part of horsey Palos Verdes Estates) who are outraged that one of their neighbors, who owns a 94 acre parcel of natural landscaping, wants to rent it out for 'garden events'. Oh My God!

Down here on the flats, we can't even get our (albeit much larger) City Council to do something substantive about the industrial blight and pollution residents in the danger zone suffer from every day because of the Port. Loud partygoers aside, we're talking about deaths from emphysema and cancer. Lives shortened, kids with illnesses, dock workers and truckers alike breathing in toxic fumes every day and paying the price.

Thanks to those pesky environmental and community groups who've fought the Man tooth an nail over the last decade, the Port can tout many new innovative initiatives, including their Green Trucks Program, lower emission fuel for ships in harbor, and plug-in power during off-loading. And the Port deserves the recognition for their efforts. But new development is always in the offing, as in the proposed Terminal Island expansion, and despite the Port's promise for 'zero-emission' outcomes, common sense tells us that ya can't add stuff to the Port until ya clean up what ya got. Then you really have a zero-emission outcome.

Take their "Bridge To Breakwater" project, due to be presented in final EIR (that's Environmental Impact Report for you activist newbies) to the community in late September. San Pedro Today editor Joshua Stecker, wrote a scathing column in the new October issue, blaming what he called a "small minority community group, who, in the opinion of many, failed to think of the greater good of San Pedro and have only opposed this project based on their own selfish self-interests" (aren't there a lot of superlatives in this claim?)

Well, Joshua, I'm not sure what you are claiming the minority have done to stop this project form moving forward, but from my perspective I have only seen intelligent alternatives put forward by this minority, like, say, keeping development close to downtown so the Port doesn't end up shutting the business/retail community out by putting their shiny new toys far away in the Outer Harbor (and put the 24 story cruise liners smack in front of the town's only beach). How about considering the millions of cars coming into our town to board these ships - adding to an existing air quality problem that puts us among the worst in the nation? Clean shuttles coming to the Outer Harbor won't solve this problem.

I will admit to one bit of selfish self-interest in my involvement: gee, I don't really want the street below my house turned into a highway and our neighborhood closed to through traffic because of the new loads streaming down to the Outer Harbor Cruise Center. Bad person, bad person that I am.

This was never about 'all or nothing' as you claim. A consortium of environmental organizations, concerned engineers and 'green cities' architects came up with intelligent, viable alternatives to some of the proposals in the Bridge to Breakwater plan. Alternatives that support downtown development tied solidly into Port development of new shops, walkways, extended Red Car line. They really do care about bringing San Pedro up to the level of other sea-side tourist destinations. Just not at the cost of old-school thinking where we, the 60,000 people living here have to pay the price. We've been doing it too long.

Nay-sayers are useless, as are over generalized criticisms of people who really are trying to watch out for the health, welfare, and economic well-being of the 60,000 people who call San Pedro home, not to mention other towns of Wilmington, Lomita, etc, that are also under the dark cloud of pollution.

I love, frequent, and support downtown San Pedro and I'm as invested in seeing it do well as Mr. Stecker claims to be. On this we do agree. As he exhorts in his column, "REAL San Pedrans" need to get up and be heard. Does he really believe real San Pedrans want to let the Port do whatever it feels is in it's best interest no matter what happens to the rest of us? He may be surprised to discover the 'minority community group' he grouses about represents a lot more real San Pedrans than he imagined. Real San Pedrans did not build the Port from afar as the City of Los Angeles did, nor become railroad, retail, or shipping tycoons. Those people don't live in our neighborhoods - they simply use us like so much front-line cannon fodder for their global benefit.

Can we make a difference in the way development goes forward in the Port? We won't find out unless, like the folks in Rolling Hills, who with just 96 vocal residents at their City Council meeting were able to accomplish, we actually show up and speak up.

Show up, already! Tuesday, September 29th, 5:00 p.m. (location TBD)

Check the Port of Los Angeles website for final info on the meeting:

http:///www.portoflosangeles.org

Dogtown

I just saw "Julie and Julia" and, like the movie star who was discovered by a Hollywood agent at the local soda fountain, it is true you can get a book and a movie deal from your blog about cooking a recipe a day from Julia Child's Mastering The Art of French Cooking. Like I'm supposed to be impressed with this fairy tale ending...it's the second book this woman will have to master that will be a killer. One with an actual story that doesn't involve her angst about turning 30 and having her perfect flan fall on the floor of her kitchen. Boo hoo.

Me, I'm not so lucky. I've had to do it the hard way. The long, winding, rutted and multiple blind alley, kick-in-the teeth way. But c'est la vie. Long story, water under the bridge and all that. At least as far as the publishing part goes. What happens to it after it hits the shelves will no doubt be as much up to me as the latter part (insert 'slog' here). Whatever I have, I got. No fairy godmother here.

Speaking of which, I always kick myself later when I ignore my instincts. Take the other day, when I took our six pound Shorkie, Dale, to the vet for shots. He'd been throwing up, which wasn't unexpected for a puppy/vacumn cleaner. He sees, eat eats. Could be a dead fly, a feather, shoelace, pillow stuffing, and anything that smells remotely like food. I've caught him with all manner of items, pulled from the jaws of death, in a manner of speaking. And anyone with a dog knows the saying, 'garbage in, garbage out'. Throwing up is to a dog what colon cleansing at the local yoga retreat for a careful vegetarian.

While at the clinic, I mentioned to the vet (name deleted) I was worried he'd thrown up a few times and after a couple of perfunctory questions he was rushed off to x-ray. "But wait, " I called after them, "he seems fine!"

I had visions of towels or socks or christmas lights (common items found in the innards of dogs) showing up, but when she came back I couldn't quite understand what she was pointing to on the film.

"Suspicious," she said, gazing at it pensively.

All I could see was a very empty set of bowels, albiet a little gassy.

"That's the problem," she replied, when I peered at it. "Gas could mean a blockage. She practically whispered the word.

"But he seems fine!"

The vet looked at me like I was about to yank my child from a life-sustaining ventilator. She clicked her pen (and her tongue). "I'll have my nurse come in with some treatment options."

Dale was still in the clinical anteroom somewhere, no doubt on the verge of a major catastrophe, when the nurse came in with the paperwork. I saw the numbers and immediately started to negotiate. Overnight stay with an IV for $400.00? How about I put him next to me in bed and keep a water bowl nearby. Blood tests? Is he wobbling, shaking, panting, crawling, toes up? Next. Ultrasound? This one was a throw-away because they admitted the ultrasound wouldn't be any better than the x-ray. Barium study for $500.00. This one had me stumped.

The nurse and I worked out a deal and she went off to tell the doctor. Five seconds later the white-coat was back and the tongue and pen were clicking like crazy.

"M'am, I wouldn't recommed taking him home," she sniffed. "It could be dangerous."

"But," I protested, "he seems fine!" In fact he was looking pretty perky.

She pointed to the x-ray again. I leaned in closer and started seeing weird shadows in the gassy colon. "Like I said," it looks very suspicious."

The rhetoric was getting stronger but still no actual diagnosis. We went back and forth like this for the better part of two hours until I finally gave in and had a battery of tests done, including the very expensive barium study. Then I had to go home (leaving Dale there to undergo the procedure which they said could take up to 48 hours and multiple x-rays) and face the muzack with my husband, who, to his credit, was unbelievably sympathetic.

"I'd pay that for you," was what he said. I couldn't help wondering if that's all he would have paid for me.

End of story - the clinic called two short hours later to tell me the barium passed through without incident. Blood tests normal, doggie fine. Excuse me, all is not fine. We are $700.00 poorer. There goes the dental work I was supposed to have this month.

My husband got home to the news of the bill. His only comment: "Expensive enema."

I've since figured out Dale has hairballs from licking our beagle, Daisy.

Next time, a $5.95 tube of 'Hairball-Away' from the pet store will do just fine.

Land of Iron Giants: back to enterntainment

Those of you who haven't heard from the Land of Iron Giants for quite a while now may be wondering why I'm suddenly popping up here twice in one week.

The short-ish answer is that I'm twiddling my thumbs while the publisher gets back to me with the galleys to send out to my personal list. This list includes the five authors of novels of similar genres that I asked to read with the goal of a blurb for the back cover of the book. Many were surprisingly nice, despite busy schedules and lots of awards for their own work.

Other recipients of the galleys from my end are literary agents, entertainment agents, influential friends in the aforementioned categories, and family members who don't want to wait for the finished version. It's been a frustrating hurry-up-and-wait process for so long now that, like a time-traveller, I'm never sure what publishing date I'm going to see on the tiny printed page where publishers put such details as ISBNs, Library of Congress info, etc. Since June it's gone from September to October to November. This is because (as the publisher has informed me) there is a 12 week minimum on review copies to places like Publisher's Weekly and the New York Times. These organizations won't even read it if they don't have sufficient time to put into the review cycle.

So while I wait, I write. Book number two is about 100 pages along, and then there are the letters I'm sending out on behalf of my dad who is wheelchair-bound at the moment and can't find an accessible van to rent to attend his grandson's wedding in a nearby town. This required some serious archaeological digging. I'm sure you can understand that rental car company executives with their millions of customers don't want to hear from the inevitable complainers. Instead they steer them to the great bane of consumers: the Customer Service department. And to this end, they have taken great pains to obscure their corporate information, addresses and management teams from easy Google-view. But, I am a dog-with-a-bone, and as my ex-father-in-law the Pentagon Colonel often told me, if you want something done, go to the top.

Now that I've smoked out the proper executives, names, addresses, personal profiles, company objectives, likes and dislikes, etc. they will shortly receive a nicely typed letter with a persuasive argument as to why having one ADA-compliant van in their city-wide fleet would provide a PR and financial advantage over their competitors who aren't smart enough to see the win/win angle in this move. Research has shown there is a proven business model for this kind of rental transportation - many U.S. cities do. But in Ontario, there are thousands of healthy, mobile travellers with disabilities, visitors and residents alike, who can stay in local accessible hotels, eat in accessible restaurants, but how do they get around? Specialized taxies are available but cost-prohibitive: Estimated cost to take Dad to the nearby town and back is $1ooo.oo. That's why he never goes anywhere.

It's just not cool to ignore people with disabilities these days, especially if they have a united voice, and discretionary funds.

Segue to Quentin Tarantino

Now, since there is no way to cleverly segue into the next item, I'll get right to it. Inglorious Basterds is the first Tarantino film I've seen in a long time that had the same unpredictable and powerful impact that Pulp Fiction had when he debuted as a director over a decade ago.

With a sly nod to spagetti-westerns, 60's B-movie thrillers, and a splash of broad comedy thrown in for good measure, it was a surprisingly tight and suspenseful story, a thrilling, nail-biting, and wholly inventive adventure that culminated in an alternate ending to the horror that was Hilter's War. What Tarantino does best is find humor in dire situations, a rare combination of violence and laughter that never seems forced. You simply accept that those who take themselves too seriously deserve to be laughed at, good and bad guys alike.

I've not been a fan of all this director's work and have it on good authority he is a total maniac to work for, but I do appreciate genius when I see it.

Okay, an email just popped into my inbox. I just got word the galleys are ready to go to print! In a few days they will be in my hands, ready for the next step. I'm on the down slope of the rickety wooden rollercoaster, waiting for that bottom to drop out, then the curve into the unknown.....