I'm bemused at myself that twitter feeds/drains whatever built-up need I have to blurt snark or witticisms--the length constraints are likely a boon to my long-winded ass. I don't see blogging as quick-spew, yet I don't really sit down to compose essay-esque materials, either. Writer manque, eternally, I guess. Been inching into/through the endlessly uncompleted book on firefighting, emergency service, and civic service. Trying to figure a balance between dry stuff vs. the literally flesh-&-blood tales from the job. Also, I really wrestle with trying to convey the cyclical nature of our job (shift work, calls, fires, etc) as well as the profound LACK of closure or narrative arc to the work: we show up after something (bad) has started, try to restore order to the chaos, then leave w/o knowing full effects of both the event & our ministrations. Which works against nominal narrative structure. But I need to get a draft of this done so I can (finally) stop thinking about trying to get a draft of it done, if only to look at the mess and throw it up in the air...

I was at the kids' school for something the other day, parental volunteering for a class project (no, not the nude study in art class), and I was with two sections (21 kids @) over two-plus hours, with six other parents, all mothers. My schedule allows that. I like that the school encourages kids to think and express themselves, etc. but there is a definite, worrying undercurrent by a vocal minority of parents who genuinely state, 'I want my kid to feel empowered and good about him/herself--that's more important than being challenged academically.'

We don't pay this much money for the kids to be told how great they are. It's not mutually exclusive, of course, but academic rigor IS a good thing. Otherwise children slide by thinking they are great and fall flat on their faces first time something doesn't go well or they get challenged by someone didn't get the memo to let the kid win. Emperor's New Clothes as national delusion...

The art teacher is nice but a bit passive. The kids were fifth & sixth graders, with the appropriate range of developmental, maturity, academic quirks. There was a lot of distraction, a lot of whispering & side-talking, etc. Kids kind of just did what they wanted.
I went to a faux-arts school, and we were an entitled, snotty bunch--without knowing how entitled we were, unlike at the true success machine schools, where they are told/taught they are/will be leaders, and I'm not sure which is worse: slovenly arrogance or noblesse oblige. So, I'm aware of the slippery slope of permissive classrooms. If you let kids, like dogs, do whatever they want, do not be surprised they eat everything in the cookie bowl and shit all over the floor. I also taught at two southern prep schools, more of the Leadership Machine version than empowerment collective models, and there was strict order. Sure, some of it was southern culture, and there were certainly numerous opportunities for adolescents to be puerile, but there was more order and more ability to get stuff across.

I watched two sections of bright, healthy, supported kids basically half-fuck around. Not all, but many. The distracted were either chatty girls, with some boys joining in, and/or buzzing boys. I don't know why more boys seem to be ADHD but there seemed to be no real effort made to guide/direct/shape their impulses.

I guess I fall into the curmudgeonly school, where I understand that there are wiring/chemical issues at work, AND I think, from watching enough of them, that enforcing discipline (self-control) will only help them. Several of the kids seemed to spiral out through the endless opportunity to spiral out. It's akin to letting a dog have the house to roam so he 'will feel at home' & being surprised that the excess space has made the dog restless and destructive.

Classes went fine. Kids are kids, etc etc. Then we got to the end & teacher asked the adults for feedback. We made suggestions, said it was a cool idea--combining art, Spanish, public speaking--and that the kids did well. I didn't criticize the teacher or the class, but was musing about classroom management and what is actually best way to teach/learn, when several mothers stated how great the kids were, how awesome things had gone. I paused, held my tongue.

I don't think it was a shit project, nor were the kids lame, but to say it went phenomenally is a stretch. I wondered if, as I am inclined to find the things needing improving while acknowledging but not dwelling on all that goes well, these parents are inclined to see all the good in the deal, ignoring the errors and flaws. Is either one better, worse, helpful, a hinderance? Clearly, my gut reaction is that being blindly optimistic and calling it great does a disservice to the opportunity to improve. But I wondered about it: what is the difference between being a pessimist (which I don't think I am) vs. a blunt realist, or a cynical idealist? How about between an optimist vs a rose-glasses myopic? More importantly, if they are just ways of responding to the world at hand, does it matter?

Or, does it shape a world view where we hope things go better and wish they really were improving, even as there is easy evidence that things are what they are. It's no fun being the loutish cynical voice at middle school art classes, but how does that spread to overall social views, or parental blindness? Or cultural blindness?

Slow moooooving racers

Finally got out to 'race' this past weekend. Red Barn CX is another great, fun place to race. Of course, the men's beginners are up first, which means getting up and hitting the road around 0700. It was cold out, still dark even, when I drove north. The race staff had been there longer, and would be there all day, so I shouldn't whine, but it was chilly chilly.

It was a costume race, and I broke out the sacred cow getup with ironically appropriate cowbell. Getting there early enough to ride the course twice was a big help. (Slow learning curve...) I started in the back row, figuring I'd only get in people's way or push myself beyond skill level if I did my first race in the middle of the pack. I think I was 55 of 56 out of the gate.

Unlike last year, I didn't think I was going to die from the end of the first lap until the middle of the third lap--you know, that 'This is stupid. I probably have asthma. My foot might be broken. I should just stop now and protect my testicles.' etc etc, the insidious comforting whispers of quit-mind.

I passed a handful of folks--and held most of them off. There was a good battle/race somewhere in the apple trees for the top spaces, and, far behind in the sticks, there were the rest of us. My handling was a bit better than last year; my conditioning felt much better; I enjoyed it a good deal. Sloppy and rusty/absent actual skills, but I managed all right.

Good fun to have the other plodders mock each other for getting passed by a cow.



I had to leave directly after my race, and never heard whether I won the costume contest. If I didn't, that's some bullshit. Seriously. I raced as a cow. Fuck Super-Mario Brother: that was just a mustache...

spinning wheels

The thing about tattoos is that they're permanent. I know this, obviously, but there were several massive exposures to full-exposed skin this summer (beaches, festivals, long long hours in men's sauna at the club). LOTS of really questionable 'personalized expressions of character & identity.' And that's coming from me...

I wish I'd had courage/vanity/?? to go full back on my first Blake back piece--except, I didn't know at the time the limits of the artist working on it. Having spent/wasted enough time in a range of ink shops, with a range of needle-wielders & artists, it's only late in the game (ie, too late for do-overs) that I truly understood the range of skills involved. Fortunately, none of my eagles look more like angry chickens, but still. I'm glad I've found some good workers over time.

Annie's been home nearly three weeks and the house thrums along nicely. In fairness, we all managed well when she was in Philly: she didn't crack for missing us; we proceeded apace. It's a testament to the kids' stability, I think.

Between some doubled-down parenting duties from mid-Aug until early October, I shelved the 'in season' cyclocross training. Which doesn't mean much, given I'm a neophyte across the board. It's really clear I need to gain more confidence w/ my bike-handling skills AND gain more skills bike handling to increase my confidence. In the meantime, I'm wary and tense, which makes me more likely to mess up. I'm realistic about gravity, age, skill, etc, so I'm not gnashing my teeth about the lost training time, but I'm VERY aware of how self-conscious I've felt about trying to push to get up to skill-speed (when it's deeply lacking). Mountain biking is supposed to be great for developing skills--except it comes with roots, rocks, ruts, trees, cliffs, etc, and the accompanying hazards of falling on such things.

The MRSA infection pretty much crushed my cx 'season'--though it's cleared up almost wholly and I'm able to ride around w/o pain, or fear of rupturing the tender, healing skin. Still, it's late to thrust myself into races where everyone else, even those w/ my skill level (true beginners), has been racing for several weeks/months.

This was to be my weekend debut. Except we had a conflict Sat morning & I didn't get off shift in time to make it to Jackson Meadows for the 0930 start. Fine, I said, I'll double-down Sunday, the excellent Green Acres race then Bandit Cross in the woods. Except I woke up at 0700 and realized I was sore, tired, and beat-up/down from two poor-sleep work shifts. I wasn't feeling like moving much, let alone racing, by 0800, when I needed to leave to get there in time. Too, I didn't feel like racing then coming home before going back to see friends race the big kid levels. Too long a gap between Cat4 and the rest. If I'd been racing more, I might be willing to get my ass kicked in 45+ but there's been scuttlebutt about the plague of old, slow newbies clogging the masters' courses. I label myself guilty w/o having saddled up. Because I would be that plagueing clog.

So I shelved the early race and contented myself w/ hanging in the house w/ the girls--which is ALWAYS a good time. I tinkered w/ my bike, which is ALWAYS a risky dumb thing to do before attempting to ride it... I headed down to the Falls for the Bandit race; the bike held up--my minor tinkering wasn't hazardous, for once. A good amount of folks showed, the sun showed; good stuff. Jeff had created a challenging course.

We rode the path, gathered at a central spot, then rode a practice lap. The rocky, rutted descents were more technical than I was comfortable with, to be honest. Or, after I did them twice, I felt wary but somewhat all right about them--though there was very real chance of mis-hitting one and endo-ing into trees or off the path. What got me worried was a. my own paltry skill; on single track, with folks trying to race, one yahoo who has no skills becomes a hazard for many and a problem on the course; b. even if I could muster courage and skill to stay upright or out of the way, there were several younger guys without more skill than I had but far more speed and youth. I worried about getting nailed by one of them.

A household issue texted in as we were prepping to race, and it was w/o much sadness I turned for home. The majority of the course was awesome, but the rough patches gave me pause. I've had to burn enough sick time (w/ the bike-fall shoulder two years ago, and miscellaneous child care, plus some coverage w/ Annie's trip) that I don't have much to spare. Hard to explain why I mangled myself on a rocky, rutted course when I haven't been riding off road at all. That's called DUMB.

So much for my grand debut weekend...
I do have more desire to get out and suck in the crits next season, and at the track, and on gravel. So many different ways to suck and have fun!
Great to see Mr & Mrs Velo out there today, and Brandon K; Martin, Ian, Alix of LGR represented far better than I did; Jeff is a gem. And all the others I don't know well. Good times in the woods, avoiding football foolishness.

falling fall

Rode outside for first time in a month. Been a long, long month. Annie gone, doing work in Philly, kids being kids, chauffeuring a lot, plus this pesky MRSA infection... And getting reading glasses. I've had better months. But still, things are good. And the weather is suddenly gorgeous. Just freaking gorgeous.

Enjoy it while we can, eh?

Cycles and pathways

Thinking a bunch about memory and experience, and the entwinement of emotional experience. When I drank, the nights I went deep (too deep), I'd have little to no memory of specifics, or vague outlines, of what came out of my mouth/mind. Those who were with me, however, bore witness and had specific recollections/experiences of where I'd been at.
I dated someone for a few years who had a cycle around her cycle where she'd explode in incredibly intense outbursts, then, once her period came, it would all subside and she'd have no recollection at all of it. I'd been standing in the blast zone, however, and had very distinct experience/perspective/memory of what she'd been on about.
I think of that now because, in looking at some long-term relationship issues, it strikes me that I carry very strongly the memories and associations of a shared emotional crisis, yet the other people involved have little actual memory of the events.

Who is right? I don't think it's a right/wrong matter, but it's a complicated dynamic. Don't dwell in the past, sure; don't condemn the now for the sins of the past, sure. But when the pattern repeats, and one party of the dynamic is unconscious of the cyclical nature of it, how to bridge that gap?

Annie & I were talking the other week and, while I normally/nominally get called analytical and rational (at expense of emotional), I made the observation that I dwell frequently in the realm of the emotions. I am curious what emotions drive people's behaviors and motivations, my own included. I can maintain a dispassionate emotional gauge, as Aunt Linds says of me, but that's different from by driven by the opposite of emotion.

I was talking with a friend whose drinking has been a problem. He was saying it wasn't really so bad. (Having been there enough, I can say, Yes, it was so bad.) I pointed out that, since his perception was skewed after the first 6-10 beers, he didn't have much position of authority regarding how his behavior affected those immediately connected to it.

blah, blah, blah

I don't know the mysteries of the heart. Many times, the surprises and mysteries are just basic human dynamics. We are surprised by our own predictability. Other times, there are flights and feats of impressive fancy or lunacy. Try to know ourselves, be aware of our dynamics with those around us, and hope we can communicate.

Sometimes, it's just wading through the shit. Whether it's yours, another's, or a strangers doesn't change the fact that it's shit.

Randomness and deliberate intersection. Wandering w/o set plan through the state fair grounds a week or so ago, it was interesting that we crossed paths with several different sets of people at several different intervals. There were MANY people there, yet there were five or six sets of wanderers we saw around the place. Timing within finite space. 'It's chance/fate that we met that day.' Yes and no.

Mostly, I'm sad and scared by the unknowable within each of us.

Brain buckets and money bags

I live in the city; I work in/for the city. I ride my bike and drive my car. I think the efforts to become 'sustainable' are grand. The bike-consciousness is a great improvement over asphalt asshat jungle. Do we need a full-time bike-pedestrian coordinator? Do we need one more than we need police investigators, or at the expense of having enough firefighters to actually staff the rigs that cover the city?

It rankles me that Rybak took the former Fire Chief, now-deposed Emergency Preparedness/Reg Svcs czar, Rocco Forte's advice on 'streamlining' the fire department. From the first budget crunch of 2003, Forte offered the fire dept. as a sacrificial lamb to his own career advancement. In the previous contract negotiations, Forte was essentially the city's star witness AGAINST the fire department. It took several years before the Mayor and City Council fathomed that Forte's agenda was for himself. Now he is gone.

They are hiring another consultant to evaluate the fire department, the 'service delivery model', jargon jargon jargon. The previous two studies (within past five years) both found the city UNDERcovered: we were short on per capita staff and rigs for the population density. With attrition, compression, elision of spots, the department has shrunk until there are not enough people on staff to cover the rigs in the city. That is after closing several rigs in past five years. The administration is heavily staffed but seems less efficient than ever, but that's likely who is in the spots, not too much bureaucracy.

I wish Rybak had taken this opportunity to save face & put distance between himself & Forte. He could very easily have stated that, in light of new information (or some such political euphemism), he was going to re-examine the suggestions and findings of the previous two studies. Both recommend maintaining four firefighters on each rig; they recommend at least the same number of rigs in the city. Thus to have X number of firefighters on Y number of rigs on three shifts, the city would need 3XY firefighters. Instead, he said, cut the budget and make it work.

So, that's great math. We do not have enough people to fill the positions on the rigs. That's not tricky statistics or spin. That's how the numbers work.

I am really grateful to the City Council members who seem to have finally taken a look at the stripped-bare content of the department. Their support--of the department and the citizens--is appreciated. I say that as a city worker and as a tax-paying resident. The head of the Public Safety Committee voted against maintaining the already LOW staffing.

---

On a related note, I'm a big seatbelt and helmet fan (car & bike). They don't always save you, but they improve your chances of avoiding traumatic violence. We responded to a bike-vs-bike collision on the greenway last night. The guy on the trick bike was going about ten mph, they estimated; he was on wrong side of path while avoiding some construction dirt. The cyclist on the road bike was doing 25 mph. He swerved and the rest of the riders in the on-coming group swerved, but the last guy didn't see him. Head to shoulder collision. Roadie managed not to dislocate his shoulder, although it looked like it when we got on scene. His wheel was totaled. The helmetless guy hit head-first, then got tossed onto the ground, again head-first. Knocked the fuck out. His wife and friends were right there--total terror hearing the violence of the collision and turning around to see him unresponsive on the ground.
We got there as he was coming to. Could speak and had no apparent neck injuries, but at minimum a significant concussion, or worse--brain bleed, TBI.

While we were treating him, several dozen riders passed. Most had common sense to stop, dismount, or soft pedal through the scene. And it was a scene. Fire truck, then ambulance arrived, the two injured riders, bystanders, friends/family. Several people, of course, were irked that their rides were interrupted by traffic. I nearly got clipped three times by people persisting in passing the trucks at speed. A codger on rollerblades started to curse at me for blocking his path.

It's great to ride bikes, but that isn't a free pass to indemnity. I ride a lot, break some rules, try not to be an asshole (not always successfully). But, there's a world at work around us.

A helmet might have broken the roadie's collarbone but it would have prevented the severity of trauma to the other guy's brain/skull/face.

With Annie away, I haven't been riding because I worry that, in case of accident, the kids would be stuck alone at home (not to mention I might have a long wait for someone to come get me). I love riding but there are collisions, risks, idiot drivers, errant cyclists, my own clumsiness.

I'm glad there were rescue crews available to help the cyclists, as well as the wheelchair-bound woman who got hit by a pickup at the midtown farmer's market, and the little boy who went unresponsive after knocking the wind out of himself, and the woman who OD'd while at rehab. I can say that she was closer to dead than alive when we arrived and she was breathing again when we left. Did I save anyone's life yesterday? Perhaps not. Did we help a series of people in need? Likely. What is it worth to the city and the citizens?
I guess I'm not the one to put the value on that.