It's the End of the World and I Feel Fine

So, yeah. I'm unemployed.
And ya know what? For now, it's not so bad.
I know that eventually I'll get tired of being around the house all the time and I'll have to get to work at finding work.
But for now ... I feel almost zen.
Meanwhile, from many of the people around me, I get the feeling that the world should be falling apart.
And maybe it is. But I haven't seen it yet.
A lot of it was in the timing. I got the news on the Wednesday after Memorial Day -- my work week's Monday. And then, I was paid for the last two days of the normal work week. So it was a few days of a paid vacation.
Vacation. Something we haven't taken in earnest for two years, since our trip to Costa Rica. Sure, we've taken days here and there. I scheduled a few Friday through Sunday weekends off, but those were all staycations. Mostly just chances for us to go to hockey games, spend time as a family.
Family. My poor son has had to put with daddy leaving for work at nights and on weekends. Coming to his office to have dinner, then having to leave daddy again after that. He's been happy to have both parents around for the last few days.
So it's been an OK week and a half being out of work.
Honestly, with the way the industry has been, it was getting to the point where it was a matter of when, and not if, there would be more layoffs in my office. Hell, in most newspaper offices. Those of us who were still employed were blessed to have lasted as long as we did.
Blessed, but put upon. The bleeding in newsrooms has just put the onus of continuing levels of coverage on less people. The day I was let go, there was no one available to work the rest of the night. The main stories remained the same as they were at 2:30. Day-old news lingered until the next morning and the regularly scheduled crew came in and changed it.
And since? Where there were three of us to spread the heavy lifting, now there are two. That means both of them had their lives turned upside down as they were thrown into new schedules, having to work weekends and juggle their future plans (one of them already has tickets to this year's Comic-Con). Oh, and then there's the new system they're installing...
The other factor in all this is that I haven't just been sitting here on my ass writing new blogs and playing games on Facebook. I've been working a bit, too.
Almost immediately, my name started appearing on the news site my wife runs, Loma Linda Patch. I couldn't help her before, because it would be helping a competing news agency. But now that I'm free, I've been jumping in and taking photos for her (three graduations so far, the fourth is this weekend) and writing briefs and turning news releases into small stories to help bolster her coverage.
It's actually been a little freeing, since I hadn't really done much the last couple of years but chase code and edit other's work. Actually contributing items that are published has been nice. I haven't gotten back to the point where I'm actually doing any reporting ... yet. But that's going to come back to me eventually. Been chained to a desk for a long while.
And the best part, I'm not necessarily doing it for free. She has a budget to pay freelancers, so I'm getting a little pin money here and there. Not enough that I'm going to get rich, or enough that it'll replace my full-time salary. But enough that it'll help stem some of the tide.
Don't get me wrong. This is not all sunshine and roses. It's disappointing that it happened. And I'm very grateful for all the support I've received over the last week-plus. It's nice to know people are out there looking out for me and my family.
But maybe, just maybe, this was the right thing at the right time. The proverbial push off the perch of complacency. It's time to get out and find something new. Maybe even outside of journalism all together. Maybe even going back to school and learning new skills.
Or maybe I'm just in complete denial.
I hope not. I'm looking forward to this next chapter, whatever it may bring. And hopefully, the final chapter will read "and they all lived happily ever after."

Stale and Easy

While we're on the topic of shopping...
It's been difficult driving through Loma Linda the last few years. Especially the corner of Mountain View and Redlands.
Seeing that Fresh and Easy sitting empty has been pure torture.
I had been following the news of their opening across the region with some anticipation. I wanted to see what this new grocery store model would bring. And it was exciting to finally check out the store that opened near our previous home -- two weeks before we moved.
Instantly, though, I knew I would want to continue doing at least some of my shopping there. And luckily, our daily travels took us past that store in Moreno Valley. It was the perfect spot to stop and get something to heat up that day at work, or pick up for cooking once at home.
Until it closed.
But the promise of one opening in Loma Linda was even better. I could go and do a full shopping trip if I wanted, and I wouldn't have to worry about making the long drive through Reche Canyon to get my groceries home.
Instead, it sits empty. With its lights on at night. Which, by the way, I understand the reasons why they are (discouraging vandals, break-ins, etc.), but doesn't that complete against their ads of being environmentally friendly?
And the worst part, for me, is that Loma Linda is the perfect fit for the brand. Packaged meals without preservatives. A wide selection of items that are sugar, gluten and fat free.
Instead, it sits there. Taunting me. Taunting us. Taunting the city, with its potential of tax dollars.

Going to Extreme

So, one of the things about being home more is seeing more of what's on the tube.
And one of the newest crazy documentary-style reality shows is "Extreme Couponing" on TLC.
The show started as a one-off, pilot type documentary. And the buzz (and ratings) it earned has led to a full-time series that they are striking at while the iron's hot.
If you haven't seen or heard about the show, it follows two families per half hour episode and how they've turned couponing into a sport. They clip and cut and organize and research to the point of big binders and spreadsheets on their iPads.
The whole point is pretty obvious: Save as much money as possible when shopping. And as the title of the show implies, these people save big time - as much as 99 percent of their grocery bill. For example, I think in one case a woman bought $500 worth of groceries for 1 cent.
Sounds great, doesn't it? We all love to save money, and more power to you for doing the work it takes. And it's a job for most of these people, taking up to 30 hours a week to prepare for a shopping trip.
You also get to see these people's "stash." Entire rooms (basements, garages) full of their purchases. Shelves and shelves of the stuff. One family had its items stashed around the house, under kids beds and the like.
Which begs the question: How much of this stuff do you really need?
The way these people work the system is by buying lots and lots of items while they are on sale with their coupons. Twenty bottles of mustard. Fifty small boxes of instant potatoes (because the family sized ones wouldn't work with the coupon/sale). One woman took an entire wire basket of more than 100 boxes of Excedrin and poured it in her basket (because it was buy one, get one free and she had lots of coupons).
Which is where the program gets a little disingenuous. Only on rare occasions do any of these "extreme couponers" have the following items in their cart: bread, milk, fresh fruits or vegetables or proteins.
So basically, these people are using boxed, prepared items to feed their families. And they wonder why there's a obesity problem in this country (like I have room to talk).
Watching the woman buying the boxes and boxes of the instant potatoes was the one that struck me. First off, who needs to eat that many potatoes -- especially dried ones? And second, wouldn't it have been just as cost effective to have bought a bag from the produce department, take the time to peel the potatoes (which I loved to do as a kid -- get them in the kitchen), cut them up, boil them and mash them? Not only would they taste better, but they'd be better for you. And you'd have the opportunity to get your children involved in the cooking process.
And what about the "staples"? It's a pretty well known fact that if you want to save money on certain items, you buy them and prepare them yourselves.
For example, our local market had chicken breasts on sale. You got four breasts per package, which worked out to about $5. Right next to those packages was the whole fryer chicken, which was priced anywhere from 25 to 75 cents less. All you have to do is your own cutting. Yep, convenience costs you.
Then there's the whole hoarding aspect about it that bothers me. The woman who bought all the Excedrin has enough items in her house that she invites other family members to come over and "shop" from her stash.
A couple of the people featured get passes from me, though. One was donating his groceries to a food bank that helps military families. The other was only shopping to feed a party.
Oh, and how do they get all these coupons? They get them from friends, relatives, online, writing the companies, club cards and the newspaper inserts. They don't necessarily buy the newspapers to get the coupons, but they dig in trash/recycling cans (don't judge, I do that in my apartment complex mail room for fast food ones). Or, some of them even go to the newspaper and ask for extras.
That struck a nerve. I couldn't get a weekend paper inside my own office. And certainly not one with coupons or ads in it. I didn't get one delivered to me for free. We had to pay for home delivery -- and did for a while. But every Sunday, my paper would be stolen for the ads before we could get out to it. How do I know it was stolen for the ads? Because no one was lifting the paper from our driveway the rest of the week.
So, now like many of the people featured in the program, will I become an "extreme couponer"? Not likely. We certainly will be watching our budget and hitting the sales.
But there definitely not the room in our place for that many groceries. I mean, honestly, if I'm ever at the point I need more than two bottles of mustard at a time -- one yellow and one dijon or brown -- then I better be having one hell of a party.

Grads Just Wanna Have Fun

So, maybe I'm just romanticizing things.
But 22 years removed from my own graduation, I don't recall the level of restrictions that were placed on the graduates and families I saw this week.
Back in the field, I out for a commencement ceremony this week. Keyword: ceremony.
That was at the top of the sign posted at the gate: This is a ceremony, not a celebration. And as such, no balloons, no flowers, no excessive standing, no strollers, no car seats (oh, and small kids needed a ticket, too). Video cameras needed to be lap held.
Now, this is a school that was having its 118th graduation. They still observe many of the rituals that have been around for many of those 118 years, so decorum is needed.
But when seniors were supposed to arrive at 5:30 p.m. for a 7 p.m. start, there's going to be a certain amount of steam that these 18-year-olds are going to want to vent. Especially on this, the day they've been waiting for for at least eight years (I'm thinking fourth grade is about the time you start wanting your school days to end).
So, as these 700 or so kids waited outside for the OK to march into the "ceremony," a couple of "troublemakers" started a cheer. Nothing mean. Nothing lewd. I think it was just a "What, What!" type of thing that the kids today might say (oh, gawd, did I just say that? I'm old).
Of course, that wasn't going to fly with the authorities figures. They were immediately on the students to be quiet. That it wasn't appropriate. Probably not (they weren't that far from the actual event, and were probably heard inside, where the band had started tuning up).
It was then I realized that this wasn't a day for them -- it was a day for the adults.
Oh, and did I forget to mention that campus security officers came through and searched inside each students' gown -- they guys even got pat downs. I'm guessing they were looking for noisemakers. Of course, every one of those kids was carrying one if they really wanted to use their phone...
Maybe I'm just overreacting. Making much ado about nothing.
Or maybe, just maybe (OK, probably pretty likely) I just feel free to write blogs again, so I'm writing about something that tweaked me a little bit and I thought I'd over share.
Eh, whatever. I'm back -- for now -- and this part of it feels pretty good.

Trapped

Gina's dad is no longer among the living. Mind you, he's still alive ... just not living.

Gina's dad has been in and out of hospital care going on pretty close to a year now. It's been a slow build since we returned last July from Costa Rica.

First for checkups. Then he'd be checked in for a few days to get his body regulated, and then sent home. Then there was the car accident (when he shouldn't have been driving in the first place) that left him in the hospital for five days. And then home with a new set of instructions on how to better his life. I think the longest stay at home he's had since last July was three weeks (and that's being generous, I think).

His current hospital stay is going on six months. He has no home of his own to go to any more. He's on a ventilator. Has dialysis on a regular basis. He can't talk any more, and he's unable to hold a pen steady enough to write.

Six months of a holding pattern. Six months of nothing really. Six months of trying to get on with our lives, while in the back of our minds, that tugging guilt from not being able to do more.

This weekend, we got a call telling us that he was regressing. They said it might be time to get down there.

So, we drop everything and make the 60-mile drive from Colton, with a stop in Anaheim for babysitting, to Westminster. We get to the hospital just after they've moved him from a regular room back to the intensive care unit.

Where a few months ago, he could react to us by expressing emotion in his face ... that's gone now. He appears to have an infection in his eyes, and we're not sure if he can even see us. Or hear us. He's had dialysis for three days in a row in the hope that removing the toxins affecting his body will make him better.

We were there Saturday for a couple of hours. We went back Sunday after a morning call to the nurse's station said he was struggling more than he was yesterday. I took two days off. Gina took one. 

But after our visit Sunday, we were left with the same feeling we've had for months. One of despair, one of guilt and one of hopelessness.

The problem is he's not going to get better. The doctor's have told us that. He won't ever be able to go back to any kind of life. He won't be able to go to his beloved horse track. He won't be able to have Shakey's pizza, mojos and beer. And there's nothing any of us can do about it.

We're torn, because you're not supposed to hope a loved one dies. You're supposed to hope that the doctors will cure them and you'll be able to have more time with them. You're supposed to have faith that things will work out.

But after six months of this, and another two days of making the 60-mile one-way drive with the thought that today might be "the day," and a combined three "sick" days away from work, what are we supposed to do? It's that holding pattern of guilt we're trapped in. We know he'll never "live" again, but shouldn't we be the good, dutiful children and be at his bedside day after day in case it is "the day"? Or should we go on with our lives? Have Gina go back to work -- another 60+ miles away in Palm Springs -- in the hope that he'll be fine until her next weekend?

Add in the stress that his family in Costa Rica is hanging on every one of our updates. They want to know how their son, brother and uncle is doing. They're thousands of miles away, why should I care about 60? 


It's frustrating, because there's not much we can do. He has a do not resuscitate order, but as long as he's attached to the machines, he's going to stay the same. Alive, but a shell.

The reality is that even if we were closer to the hospital, there's nothing we could do that would help his lungs or kidneys heal, especially with the life he's led, with the constant drinking, gambling and smoking (until he quit to have more money to drink and gamble).

But that still doesn't make it any easier when you feel the weight of guilt coming at you from all sides, that no matter how much you do (or don't) do, it's never enough.

He's going to die. Likely soon. But maybe not. Until then, we're trapped.

Randomness

Thanks to all my Facebook friends for engaging my curiousity when it comes to the Inland Empire.

First off, full disclosure, most of the newspapers in the area don't use the term "Inland Empire" when writing about their coverage area because no one knows for sure how one would define it. That's why I had to ask folks how they defined it.

The majority of folks who responded to my inquiry said that it is San Bernardino and Riverside counties. If that's the case, that's a pretty big region. Remember both counties stretch out to the state border with Arizona, and S.B. County also goes all the way to the Nevada border. And both contain areas that have their own confusing regional names (the Coachella Valley and High Desert).

My first experience actually working out this way was at the Inland Valley Daily Bulletin, a conveniently made up name that encompassed two separate papers circulation areas (Ontario's Daily Report and Pomona's Progress Bulletin). So it's always given me the impression that the Inland Empire should include the cities in Los Angeles County located east of the 57 Freeway (that's Pomona, Diamond Bar, Claremont, La Verne, San Dimas).

If you're curious, here's Wikipedia's Inland Empire page.

*****

The reason for all this mess was started by my thought that I might finally be able to say I covered a Heisman Trophy finalist with Toby Gerhart's nomination earlier this week (which turned out to be wrong, since I had covered games featuring a Heisman winner in Carson Palmer).

But Gerhart's status also got me thinking about where he would rank among the all-time great athletes to hail from the Inland Empire, and how he could become the first Heisman winner from the region.


But it could be argued by some that the Inland Empire already has one. Or does it? It all depends on how you define it.

You see, Glenn Davis, a running back for Army, won the Heisman Trophy in 1946. That Heisman is sitting inside a trophy case at Bonita High School in La Verne.

Yes, technically still LA County, but part of the Inland Empire? To some, probably. Thus the inquiry.

*****

So, who are some of the best athletes in the history of the Inland Empire? Do you count the High Desert and Coachella Valleys when you consider it? The mountain communities?

I know a few people who would be on the list without argument. You've got NFL Hall of Famers Anthony Munoz (Ontario, which named a community center and park for him) and Ronnie Lott (Eisenhower High in Rialto). Michelle Kwan was considered from Lake Arrowhead. Cheryl Miller (and her former Angel brother) hail from Riverside, as do Dusty Baker and Bobby Bonds. Derek Parra won Olympic medals in speed skating (learning on wheels in San Bernardino). Softball player Leah O'Brien-Amico, who won three gold medals, is from Chino. And there's Diana Taurasi, who played at Don Lugo High in Chino.

There's probably more (obvious ones, I'm sure), but that's all I can get off the top of my head. But some of the others I'm thinking of are from those fringe areas - Mark McGwire spent time at Damien High in La Verne and Jim Edmonds was from Diamond Bar. And while neither may end up in the Hall of Fame, they both had impressive careers in baseball.

And that's not counting anyone who played minor league sports on their way up through the system (major league rehab assignments don't count Manny Ramirez).

All a bit confusing (probably pointless), I know.

*****

Also running through my skull during that time was the names of the best players I ever got to see play as a reporter covering high school (and some JC). Most of the names that popped in were football players because most of the time, that's all we end up covering on regular basis.

So, here they are, in no particular order:

* Chris Draft, Valencia High (Placentia). He was a man in high school, so much so that they called him "Mr. Draft" at Valencia (and it was on the back of his letterman's jacket. He was taller than me and built like a house. He played running back and linebacker for some very good teams at Valencia (still one of the best high school environments in my memories). He went on to play linebacker in the NFL for the Atlanta Falcons.

* Toby Gerhart, Norco. Got to see him play a bunch of times each of his years at Norco (another great high school game environment, probably because it's still a one high school town). He ran over people, could cut and gain yards with the best of them (which, in state history, he is). You knew they were always in a game as long as they could hand the ball off to him (which they did, a lot).

* Carson Palmer, Santa Margarita. I only got a small sample size with him, but what I saw was pretty good. My greatest memory of him playing was sitting in the press box and seeing the offense come out with an empty backfield, five wide and Palmer in the shotgun. I said aloud (to no one in particular) that the play was going to be a quarterback draw. And a couple of seconds later, I was proven right.

* Reuben Droughns, Anaheim. Just a fabulous runner. He was one more dependant on hitting his holes and outrunning you, rather than the power of a Gerhart or Draft. He was on pace to set the Orange County record for career rushing yards, but got sidetracked by a suspension at the start of his senior year (he and some friends allegedly took part in a prank the night of the previous graduation).

* Garrett Sabol, Kennedy (La Palma). The only name on this list who you've probably never heard of. He wasn't the biggest player or the fastest, but man did he make up for it with his ability to be in the right place at the right time. And he hit as hard as anyone I've ever seen. Anyone who came up the middle with him at linebacker or safety was just asking for him to hit you. He went to Oregon and I found this tackle on YouTube.

After that, I saw plenty of solid Division I basketball players (boys and girls), plenty of pro prospects in baseball (I saw Steve Trachsel pitch while I was at Fullerton JC) and lots of great softball pitchers.

*****

So, with that, I'll wrap things up. Like I said in the title, it's a bit of randomness. But I needed to write something to help clear my head. And since I've been on a bit of break, I figured it'd be a good few topics to maybe get myself going again.

Have a good holiday season.

Just Play Ball, already

I've always been under the belief that you shouldn't write angry.

So, I cooled off for a couple of hours before I started writing this.

I know it's been a while, and I'll probably tell you why some other time, but not today. I have something else important to say:

Nine-inning baseball games should not take four hours.

OK, sure, the official time of game for Wednesday's National League Division Series game between the Dodgers and Cardinals clocked in at less - six minutes less. But even that was too long.

Everyone knows how much of a sports fan I am. I tend to watch what I can, when I can. And baseball still is an important game to follow. But, man, Major League Baseball, you're losing fans with this.

They'll point at their TV partners, who want to suck all the drama and ratings they can out of the game. And, yeah, they'll be right to a degree. But looking over sporadically at the game Wednesday night, and it wasn't just TBS slowing things down. It was everyone. The players, the coaches, the managers. Everyone.

There is a rule in the books to speed up play, but it's never enforced. Oh, maybe once a season you hear about it. But this is the playoffs, and everyone has to jockey for every little last advantage they can. Even if it means a parade of relievers.

I was skulking around the office bitching about the slowness of the game - because me going home depends on when that game gets over and our photographer can send in his photos for a gallery. "This is why I love hockey. There games don't take forever," I said to everyone and no one in particular.

One person, another hockey fan, disagreed. And I realized he was right. Because they can have marathon games in the Stanley Cup Playoffs. But when they play a marathon, it can be over at any second. You're in overtime, and there's nothing like overtime playoff hockey. They can play the equivalent of two games and you'll be on the edge of your seat. And it will still only take, what, four and a half hours?

But baseball, you still have to reach that ninth inning. With the pitching changes and the batters adjusting themselves and the throws over to first and the missed signs and the ...

If you're playing in extra innings, I give you a pass. Then it's all or nothing. You're playing to win the game. That Detroit-Minnesota game on Tuesday was great. It had action. Something that happened in short spurts in between all the adjusting on Wednesday at Chavez Ravine.

OK, I'll admit, I really didn't watch much of the game. The TV's in the office aren't close enough or at a good enough angle that I have a good view. It might have been very exciting.

And what fixes do I have? None that will be enforced. Unless someone goes ahead and puts a pitch clock up where the umpires and fans and players can see it. Make it like the shot clock in basketball or play clock in football. When everyone sees the clock, then maybe people will move it along. (They had one in the Olympics, but it really didn't help those games either, but you didn't exactly have major leaguers, either.)

That's it. I'll step off my soapbox now. Have a good day. And let's hope the Angels and Red Sox can move their game along tonight.