THE PERIPATETIC PHILOSOPHER on the road:

Coronado Hotel

&

California Surreal Opulence as Real

James R. Fisher, Jr., Ph.D.

© June 28, 2015

CALIFORNIA DREAMING AS A MINDSET

You only have to be in California for a day or two before subliminally feeling you have consciously left the world of the real for the surreal.  California is deeply in depth daily facing bankruptcy but living as if it has won the lottery with funny money.  Optimism here in the face of that reality is not a mindset but a religion. 

This was apparent to me as we left the desert of Hemet, California and drove south to San Diego, California.  The Interstate Highways System is in pristine condition, the eight to ten lanes filled constantly with brand sparklingly new automobiles in the mint of condition carrying the most illustrious brand names of the automotive industry.  

To enhance this image the shoulders of the roads rise around these byways with well-kept vegetation (trees, shrubs, sculptured walls and other appointed landmarks) to give the impression of abundance and solvency. 

Once you enter San Diego, and travel through the downtown, through the ethnic neighborhoods of Hispanics, Italians, and other ethnic groups, which are larger than the same more celebrated neighborhoods in Chicago of which I am more familiar, and might I add cleaner and better maintained. 

This Lego Land mystique is so striking as to put one in mind of a gigantic Lego Land Exhibition and not a real city at all, but a cluster of neighborhoods to mock reality. 

We took a two and one half hour trolley cruise through the city and noted the veneer of cleanliness, neatness and orderliness of its surface causing one to wonder what was hidden.  I’ve traveled the world and always found the character of a place revealed by its underbelly.  We saw no such evidence in this trolley ride.

The surreal was further enhanced when we took a 2.1 mile ride over an expansion bridge 200 feet above San Diego Bay, which connected with Coronado Island and the home of the internationally known as the Hotel del Coronado. 

The San Diego–Coronado Bridge is a pre-stressed concrete and steel girder bridge over San Diego Bay connecting San Diego with Coronado Island, which is not actually an island but a peninsula as part of State Route 75.   

Beautiful Betty (BB) was apprehensive about driving across this bridge and did so without looking down.  I, on the other hand, had a marvelous view of the bay, the luxury boats and yachts and magnificent ships of the United States Navy below, as well as the abbreviated skyline of the City of San Diego.  

I say “abbreviate” because no building in San Diego can be taller than 500 feet as the San Diego International Airport is smack in the middle of downtown. 

Compounding my irascibility, this airport besides being in the wrong place has only one runway with planes landing and taking off every ninety seconds.  Not to worry, the rational has little to do with dialectics.  

For example, there are plans for building a $1.7 billion football stadium in Carson outside San Diego to be jointly shared between the San Diego Charges and the Oakland Raiders of the National Football League.  It is to be built on the privately financed sale of hundreds of millions of dollars of preferred seat licenses.  

Little note is made that Raiders and Chargers are infrequently playoff bound.  

Everyone back in Florida told us that the Hotel del Coronado was “a must see.”  It did not disappoint.  

It is magnificent, appealing to the eye, overwhelming of the senses, and intimidating to one of limited means.  

I thought the baroque architecture and lavish colors of St. Petersburg, Russia were a bit over the top, but in a different style and architecture to be sure, the Hotel del Coronado competes in that same league of gaudy excess.   

Surf google for this hotel and you will see what I mean in the lavish pictures presented there. 

It cost $24 for two hour parking, and if you lost your ticket it was $58.  

What we didn’t know, but found out by having a coffee (me) and clam chowder (Betty) is that the waitress could electronically stamp our parking ticket and we were given three hours of “free parking.”  

The coffee and clam chowder cost $34.  The coffee, which cost $6 was not as good as McDonald’s, but who cares when it comes to "quality." 

The hotel has shops and boutiques that we wandered through as well as beautiful gardens, and the most impressive beach we have ever seen with its white sand expanding for several miles beyond our vision. 

I thought the beaches of Clearwater, Florida’s white sand were the best, but the city fathers of that city opted to put in huge parking lots with meters that has ruined that previously breathtaking setting.

Wandering through the shops I saw a windbreaker I liked on sale for half price.  I gave it a look.  Its marked down price was $200 and looked a lot like a windbreaker I saw at Penny’s back home for $16.95, full price.  Of course the Penny's windbreaker didn’t have the Hotel del Coronado imprimatur.     

The Hotel del Coronado is a beachfront luxury hotel in the city of Coronado, just across the San Diego Bay from San Diego, California. 

It is one of the few surviving examples of an American architectural genre: the wooden Victorian beach resort. 

It is the second largest wooden structure in the United States (after the Tillamook Air Museum in Tillamook, Oregon and the Belleview Biltmore in Belleair, Florida) and was designated a National Historic Landmark in 1977 and a California Historical Landmark in 1970.

When it opened in 1888, it was the largest resort hotel in the world. It has hosted presidents, royalty, and celebrities through the years. The hotel has been featured in numerous movies and books.

The hotel received a Four Diamond rating from the American Automobile Association and was once listed by USA Today as one of the top ten resorts in the world, though it has since been removed from that list.  In the mid-1880s, the San Diego region was in the midst of one of its first real estate booms. 

At that time, it was common for a developer to build a grand hotel as a draw for what would otherwise be a barren landscape. The Hollywood Hotel in Hollywood, California, the Raymond Hotel in Pasadena, the Hotel Del Monte in Monterey, and the Hotel Redondo in Redondo Beach, California, were similar grand hotels built as development enticements during this era.

  

 HISTORY OF THE HOTEL DEL CORONADO

On December 19, 1880, three people went together to buy all of Coronado and North Island for $110,000. Those people were E. S. Babcock, retired railroad executive from Evansville, Indiana, Hampton L. Story, of the Story and Clark Piano Company of Chicago, and Jacob Gruendike, president of the First National Bank of San Diego.

A 24-page prospectus with the title Coronado Beach. San Diego, California, asserted that "The Coronado Beach Company has been organized with a capital of One Million Dollars ...." 

The officers were Babcock, Story, and Gruendike. Also involved with the company, at this early stage, were three men from Indiana: railroad baron Josephus Collett of Terre Haute, lumber merchant Heber Ingle of Patoka, and John Igleheart, a miller, who later became famous through the development of Swansdown flour.

The men hired architect James W. Reid, a native of New Brunswick, Canada, who first practiced in Evansville and Terre Haute. His younger brother Merritt Reid, a partner in Reid Brothers, the Evansville firm, stayed in Indiana, but brother Watson Reid helped supervise the 2,000 laborers needed.

E. S. Babcock envisioned the hotel “would be built around a court...a garden of tropical trees, shrubs and flowers.  From the south end, the foyer should open to Glorietta Bay with verandas for rest and promenade. 

"On the ocean corner, there should be a pavilion tower, and northward along the ocean, a colonnade, terraced in grass to the beach. The dining wing should project at an angle from the southeast corner of the court and be almost detached, to give full value to the view of the ocean, bay and city."  

That vision was turned into reality, Southern California style.

Construction of the hotel began in March 1887, "on a sand pit populated by jack rabbits and coyotes." 

We heard a lot about jack rabbits in the trolley ride.  These vermin were apparently so plentiful that they literally ate away all the indigenous trees and shrubs to the point that hardier and less dietary pleasing vegetation could be imported and planted.

If the hotel were ever to be built, one of numerous problems to overcome was the absence of lumber and labor in the San Diego area. 

The lumber problem was solved with contracts for exclusive rights to all raw lumber production of the Dolbeer & Carson Lumber Company of Eureka, California, which was one of the West's largest. Planing mills were built on site to finish raw lumber shipped directly from the Dolbeer & Carson lumber yards, located on the shores of Humboldt Bay.  

To obtain brick and concrete, Reid built his own kilns. He also constructed a metal shop and iron works.

CONTRAST THIS WITH THE DEMISE OF BELLEVIEW BILTMORE

The Belleview Biltmore, Belleair, FL

As we learned about the vision of these early entrepreneurs and the difficulties they had to overcome, I could not help but think of the fate of our equally famous Belleview Biltmore Hotel in Belleair, Florida. 

While many Belleair, Florida residences were sleeping, a big vote came down that allowed a developer to demolish nearly all of the historic Belleview Biltmore Hotel.

About 90 percent of the hotel is in the process of being torn down, and the plan for the 10 percent that remains is ambitious.

Planners say the oldest part of the Belleview Biltmore is actually in the best shape. So the developer is promising to move that whole section of the hotel about 250 yards to the east, and turn it into a boutique inn.

The vote came down after a six-hour commission meeting inside Belleair Town Hall.  Some neighbors argued with all their hearts to save the hotel from the 1890s. Those passionate people saw an important link to Tampa Bay's past vanishing if what was once called the "White Queen of the Gulf" were torn down.

But town commissioners also heard from dispassionate experts, who said the structure was too far gone. They testified that repairing the hotel would cost more than $150 million, but the resulting building would be worth just $50 million in today's market.

We're hearing from the man in the middle of the difficult decision, which ends the debate over the hotel's future.

"My mother, the last time she was here alive 14 years ago, I took her by and she said, 'You know, you were two years old and I walked you through here in a stroller'." 

Belleair Mayor Gary Katica said. "You know, we all have those memories. But, you know what? Life is a series of adjustments."

Katica told his audience that he loved the old hotel, but it was falling apart and costing the town a fortune in maintenance.

"We listened to the people of Belleair, and that's what they want," Katica said. "It's time. When you're costing a town $600,000 to $800,000 a year for six or seven years, that's a lot of money. We start our budget with a minus. Not good!"

A developer from St. Petersburg, Florida, Mike Cheezem, is now in the process of buying the property for just under $7 million from its current owners.

His company, JMC Communities, says it plans to break ground this summer on new houses and condos. Belleair citizens are hoping to learn more about the timetable for tearing down the majority of the hotel, one of the icons of Old Florida that was, unfortunately, taken for granted as being indestructible.

THE CONTRAST, WHY INCLUDED HERE

Those responsible for the survival of the Hotel del Coronado, equally of the age of the Belleview Biltmore, when grand was the theme of the late nineteenth century, have made it a constant money maker. 

Nothing is cheap at the Hotel del Coronado, and the ambience cries to the rafters that it is for reason.  It is not only to survive but to prevail.  

With that mindset, it is likely that one hundred years from now, through constant refurbishment, dedicated maintenance, and reinvestment, it will sparkle with loving care in perennial rejuvenation with the same vitality and hospitality that is displayed today. 

Workers in the parking lot, on the beach, in the restaurants, boutique shops, in the clothing emporiums, in the kitchens and engine rooms, in housekeeping and security were not only polite but engaged.  

There was an atmosphere of commerce, no doubt, but one indisputably customer friendly.

Our waitress, when we told her we were not a guest of the hotel, said she would stamp our parking ticket so that we would be absolved of the $24 parking fee.  

An attendant in the park convinced us that the ticket had been electronically stamped as it looked untouched, while shop workers indulged our questions without pressuring us to purchase their merchandise.   

That said everything about the Hotel del Coronado was an intoxicating commercial.  

It sits in an idyllic setting gracefully bordered by a white sandy beach and a crystal clear water bay as did the once majestic Belleview Biltmore.  

That is however where the nature of things becomes blatantly different.  A thousand voices explained the Belleview Biltmore demise while a cadre of folks quietly promote the next iteration of Hotel del Coronado. 

INCIDENTAL OF THE SAN DIEGO SOJOURN

San Diego was invigorating, but also tiring as the pace is inhumanly frantic.  There is obviously another side to this region that is less frantic, less affluent, less commercially existential, but we discovered it only by accident.

We have a practice of leaving the maid $5 for each day that she serves us.  I asked BB, “Do you think the same maid will be here on Monday?”  We were then leaving Hemet for San Diego where we had been staying for three days.

“Ask her,” she said simply, which I did, as we were leaving Monday morning and always left our gratuity with a note.   

As I approached the maid, she told me in broken English Monday was her day off.  Handing her our appreciation, she surprised me with a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.  That said a lot about California societal stratification and brought me back to reality.

*     *     *

The best advertisers of an area are friends who have previously been there.  This also proved the case for San Diego.  Aside from the Hotel del Coronado and the spirited crossing of the Coronado Bridge, we did a bit of sightseeing and shopping in the town. 

We then left Coronado for San Diego’s famous Balboa Park, where we had lunch at the Prado Restaurant, and spent a few hours in the “Museum of Man.”

THE MUSEUM OF MAN

Balboa Park is blanketed with museums and one could spent several days touring them all.  One of the interesting discoveries in the “Museum of Man” was that our ancestoral tree starts with the lemur. 

Located beneath the ornate 200-foot California Tower, the San Diego “Museum of Man” is the city’s only museum devoted exclusively to anthropology.

With its Spanish colonial and mission style architecture, the landmark building was originally constructed for the 1915–16 Panama-California Exposition. Today, a key focus of the museum is to create and display dynamic and educational anthropological exhibits about people and places throughout the Americas and around the world.

The museum traces its origins to the Panama-California Exposition, which opened in 1915 on the occasion of the inauguration of the Panama Canal.

The central exhibit of the exposition, "The Story of Man through the Ages," was assembled under the direction of noted archaeologist Dr. Edgar Lee Hewett of the School of American Archaeology (later renamed the School of American Research, and since 2007 the School for Advanced Research).

Hewett organized expeditions to gather pre-Columbian pottery from the American Southwest and to Guatemala for objects and reproductions of Maya civilization monuments.

Numerous other materials were gathered from expeditions sent by anthropologist Aleš Hrdlička of the Smithsonian Institution, who gathered casts and specimens from Africa, Siberia, Alaska and Southeast Asia. Osteological remains and trepanated crania from Peruvian sites were also obtained.

As the Exposition drew to a close, a group of citizens formed the San Diego Museum Association to retain the collection and convert it into a permanent museum, with Dr. Hewett as the first director.

Notable additions to the museum’s collection after the Exposition included the Jessop Weapons Collection and a rare collection of artifacts from the ancient Egyptian city of Amarna, donated by Ellen Browning Scripps and the Egyptian Exploration Society.

Between 1935 and 1936, the museum’s name briefly changed to the Palace of Science in order to correspond with other exhibit buildings participating in the California-Pacific International Exposition. During this exposition, the museum housed several special exhibitions from a variety of sources, such as the Monte Alban exhibit, which featured many artifacts on loan from the Mexican government.

The name was changed to "Museum of Man" in 1942 to emphasize the museum's concentration on anthropology. "San Diego" was added in 1978.

The museum was converted into a hospital during World War II, and its exhibits and collections were temporarily moved into storage. Following the war, the museum began to focus its collections on the peoples of the Western Americas. The museum’s collections grew substantially from the 1980s through the early 1990s, and today contains nearly 2 million individual objects.

The museum is housed in four original buildings from the 1915 Exposition.  The main museum, including exhibits and gift shop, is housed in the ornate California Building with its landmark tower, which had been closed to the public for nearly 80 years.  It reopened on January 1, 2015, in time for the 2015 centennial of the Panama-California Exposition.

The tower contains a carillon and quarterly-hour chimes which can be heard all over Balboa Park.  The museum also occupies three other original 1915 buildings.  

On the opposite (south) side of the California Quadrangle, housed in what was originally the Fine Arts Building, is Evernham Hall, a banquet room which is also used for temporary exhibits. Immediately adjacent is the Saint Francis Chapel, a non-denominational Spanish-style chapel available for private events such as weddings.

The museum's collections and permanent exhibits focus on the pre-Columbian history of the western Americas, with materials drawn from Native American cultures of the Southern California region, and Meso-American civilizations such as the Maya.

The museum also holds one of the most important collections of Ancient Egyptian antiquities in the United States, which includes authentic mummies, burial masks, figurines, and seven painted wooden coffins. The most extraordinary of these is an extremely rare Ptolemaic child's coffin — only six others are known to exist worldwide. Total holdings include more than 100,000 documented ethnographic items, more than 30,000 books and journals, and 25,000 photographic images.

PARADISE POINT BAREFOOT BAR & GRILL

On our next to final night in San Diego, we took my nephew Danny Schall, his wife, Michele, and his two college student children, Elyssa, 19, and Ryan, 21 to Paradise Clove and the Barefoot Bar & Grill and true beachfront dining

The Barefoot Bar & Grill is a local waterfront restaurant coveted for its panoramic views of Mission Bay. This legendary San Diego beachfront restaurant offers casual coastal California dining atmosphere where the Caribbean influenced is apparent as well as creative American dishes.

We took several pictures with a multicolored setting sun as backdrop to the waterfront setting. 

Resort guests and San Diego locals alike can enjoy local craft beers, refreshing cocktails, burgers, fresh seafood and salads in Barefoot Bar & Grill's laid-back, waterfront setting aside a tropical waterfall, sea-life lagoon and colorful marina. Much like Florida, attire is casual or beachwear.  Barefoot Bar & Grill's fare is made from farm fresh and organic foods grown in San Diego, and all dishes are created keeping sustainability top of mind.  

SEE’S CANDIES CHOCOLATE SHOP

Our last stop before motoring back to Los Angeles and a hotel for our early next day flight back to Tampa, Florida was the Fashion Valley Mall and See’s Candies Chocolate Shop.   

BB was interested in picking up some gifts there for friends back at the Hillel Academy of Tampa, where she is business manager.

The See's Candies Chocolate Shop in San Diego sells American-made candies and chocolates where you always get a free sample and friendly customer service. 

At See’s Candies you can create your very own custom mixed box of chocolates and candies.  The shop is famous for boxed chocolates, truffles, nuts and chews, lollipops, and sugar free candy.

San Diego See's Candies Chocolate Shop has been in existent for more than 90 years.  Warren Buffet bought the shop several years ago, as he did Dairy Queen Franchises as well.  He must have a sweet tooth or perhaps such purchases sweetened his portfolio. 

*     *     *

THE PERIPATETIC PHILOSOPHER on:

California Dreaming

Part Two

Ubiquitous “Siri”

James R. Fisher, Jr., Ph.D.

June 26, 2015

“SIRI” as GOD IN THE MACHINE

Siri is a part of Apple Inc.'s iOS which works as an intelligent personal assistant and knowledge navigator.

The feature uses a natural language user interface to answer questions, make recommendations, and perform actions by delegating requests to a set of Web services such as Wolfram|Alpha.

The software, both in its original version and as an iOS feature, adapts to the user's individual language usage and individual searches (preferences) with continuing use, and returns results that are individualized.

The name Siri is Scandinavian, a short form of the Norse name Sigrid meaning "beauty" and "victory", and comes from the intended name for the original developer's first child.

Siri was originally introduced as an iOS application available in the App Store by Siri, Inc., which was acquired by Apple on April 28, 2010. Siri, Inc. had announced that their software would be available for BlackBerry and for phones running Android, but all development efforts for non-Apple platforms were cancelled after the acquisition by Apple.

Siri has been an integral part of iOS since iOS 5 and was introduced as a feature of the iPhone 4S on October 14, 2011. 

Dictation powered by Siri was added to the third generation iPad with the release of iOS 5.1.1 in May 2012; full Siri support was added with iOS 6. The 5th generation iPod touch, released in October 2012, also gained Siri support.

Siri is also integrated into Apple Watch's watchOS, and can be activated by holding down the Digital Crown or by saying "Hey, Siri".

THE MAKING OF A BELIEVER

My wife, Betty, had never been to Los Angeles, and I hadn’t been back there in more than thirty years.  So, we were traveling blind were it not for the accompaniment of “Siri.” 

Readers of my works know I am not an electronic nerd, but I must say I am frighteningly impressed with “Siri.” 

It seemed as if “God” were looking down on us, guiding our every remote move, changing directions, stopping at the appropriate stop light, making the correct turns, getting on the appropriate Interstate ramps at a multiplex of interleafing cloverleaf junctions, and then traveling through a labyrinth of streets to our destination.

In this case, it was a lovely tiled roof corner house in a poster board home out of a House and Garden magazine.  It was Hemet, California in the desert, and the residence of my sister, Janice, and her husband, David Ewing.

Given this excellent guidance system, it would be of little avail were Beautiful Betty not such an excellent driver.  I don't drive much anymore except to the library, the gas station, the supermarket and the barber shop.  

CALIFORNIA DREAMING

California has a population the equivalent of Norway, Sweden, Finland and Denmark combined, and a population of motor vehicles that must approach nearly one to every member of that society.

Californians have no choice but to drive to everywhere they go.  

Perhaps this explains why they are the best drivers I have ever laid eyes on, as well as the most courteous encountered in the United States.  

Living in Europe, I thought no drivers could top European drivers in courtesy and competency, but I believe California drivers do. 

Since the automobile is so critical to the lifestyle, we did not encounter a single accident and only two occasions where the driver was obviously having vehicle trouble and we drove hundreds of miles and blended into traffic of thousands of cars.  

Moreover, and this was something of a shock to us, Californians obey the speed limits of the highways. 

WORK AND LIFE IN THE AGE OF “SIRI”

Clearly, Mapquest, Triple A, and other roadway guidance systems are anachronistic.  

This is 2015 and no doubt “Siri” will be replaced by something electronically even more sophisticated.  It is inevitable.

Man’s genius in on display and we are increasingly moving into the “Age of Automation” as well as the “Age of Information.” 

This is not new as these prototypes have been in the works for more than half a century.  

They are now however becoming common to us all, even to those of us who have little clue as to the technology behind the magic. 

We are well into “the Second Machine Age” with relentless technological breakthroughs certain to transform everyday life for us all.  

The question that has to be asked, when it comes to work, the workplace and the worker, subjects dear to my heart and the genre that I have dedicated much of my energy, will humans go the way of the horses?

The dystopian novels of George Orwell’s “Nineteen Eighty-Four” (1949) and Yevgeny Zamyatin’s “We” (1921) predicted mindless totalitarianism and the impact it would have on 20^th century life.  

We have no equivalent forewarning novels that have captured our imagination as did these works in the current robotic generated dystopian age.  

As a consequence, we go blindly into the future as advanced economics become increasingly automated and digitized, and machines continue to replace the blessed and challenging occupations of mankind. 

What will he be?  What will he do?   

Mark my words as problematic as the future appears to be there will be a religious renaissance that will rival that of 2,000 years ago.  We don't need a messiah.  We need a pragmatist that will help us answer these proffered questions. 

*     *     *

The Peripatetic Philosopher on:

California Dreaming

Part One: Family!

James R. Fisher, Jr., Ph.D.

© June 26, 2015

"Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way"

Count Leo Tolstoy (1828-1910), first line in his novel “Anna Karenina” (1877) also author of "War and Peace” (1869).

“There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children.  One of these is roots, the other, wings.”

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1742-1832), poet, dramatist, philosopher, novelist and author of “Faust” (1808) and “The Sorrows of Young Werther" (1774).

 *     *     *

On Thursday, June 18, we left for California to visit my sister, Janice Fisher Ewing, whom I had not seen since 1987 when she and my other sister, Pat, visited Betty and I in Brussels, Belgium where I was working for Honeywell Europe Ltd. at Honeywell’s European Headquarters as Director of Human Resources Planning and Development.

Janice is nine years younger than I am but has suffered ill health for several years.  She and Betty became fast friends when she visited us in Europe, traveling with my sister Pat throughout Europe with Betty as their guide.

David and Janice Ewing live in the desert in a place called “Hemet,” an oasis of a place of 78,000 of pristine homes of hardy construction, tiled roofs, rock gardens instead of lawns and surrounded in gray brown mountains absent of vegetation and cloudless skies with temperatures that range from 104 to 112 degrees Fahrenheit during the day, but cool off to a comfortable 77 degrees after sundown.

There is a noticeable absence also of flies and mosquitoes, as well as the cockroaches that are so familiar to us in Florida. 

It is a dry heat and surprisingly bearable during the day as long as you are sufficiently hydrated. 

The city of Hemet is clean and orderly as the lives of those in residence are as likely as well to be so, which brings me to the subject of the family in this initial installment of this adventure. 

When I was consulting in the 1970s, while pursuing my Ph.D. in industrial/organizational psychology, on the East Coast (Connecticut to Miami), it was mainly police departments in matters of organizational development or “OD.”  It was the era of “Law & Order” in the United States initiated by President Richard Nixon.

But in matters of executive development, I conducted seminars in Seattle, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Denver and Dallas for senior managers and executives many times during this same period. 

So, as you might suspect, I was on the road a good part of the time while managing my studies at the University of South Florida in Tampa, Florida.

It should also be noted that I was an absent father to my four growing children even when home, as I was most likely involved in researching or writing a paper for one of my courses, not to mention eventually writing a master’s thesis and doctorate dissertation, both of which turned out to be books, each taking the better part of a year. 

Fortunately, my police consulting work became the laboratory for both scholarly documents. 

FAMILY IN PERSPECTIVE

Being nine years older than my sister, Janice, I was through university before she was out of grammar school at St. Patrick’s.  As illustrated in my memoir written as a novel, “In the Shadow of the Courthouse,” my da was a yeller.  

He yelled at home because he was frustrated as a worker, having quit school after the seventh grade, largely because he was a ward of his extended family, that is, relatives who encouraged him to move on.  His mother had died when he was born, and his da had taken off never to be heard from again. 

It was this inauspicious beginning that lay the destiny of my sister, Janice, to be the only sibling present as my da’s health deteriorated, while the yelling intensified.  He would die at the age of 50 from multiple myeloma.

He had yelled at me much more than my other three siblings, but I considered it dissonant noise of no importance, but not my sister, Janice.  She absorbed this noise as a poison with no available antidote. 

Thus developed an unhappy situation, a father with little education or language to articulate in his own defense in the world of work, taking that frustration home and out on his family, especially Janice, a beautiful child who would grow into a beautiful woman.  She would carry the dread of this abusive disposition into her adult life, ultimately in my view contributing to her failing health.

We were looking forward to seeing Janice, and David Ewing, her husband of more than thirty years, who has a touching story of his own which I will share shortly.

My sister Janice had two lovely children, Danny and Suzanne Schall who are now adults with children of their own.  Suzanne lives in northern California some 500 miles from Hemet and planned to come but broke her the patella of kneecap  in a fall with her daughter. 

Danny, whom I haven’t seen since he was a boy, is a handsome man of fifty.  He and his wife, Michelle, have two inspiring children in Elyssa and Ryan, 19 and 21, both college students. 

To give you a sense of our itinerary, we landed in Los Angeles on June 18, and stayed in a hotel near the airport to adjust to jet lag, and then motored out to Hemet in the afternoon of June 19. 

To say that it was emotional to see my sister, Janice, after 28 years, is to put it mildly.  She is just as beautiful as ever, but fragile and has difficulty coming up with words trapped reluctantly in her memory since her stroke.

Remarkably, after three days of constant engagement with me bombarding her mind with memories of our youth, she found those trapped words and lucidly expressed herself. 

I am an industrial psychologist, not a clinical psychologist, but I firmly believe that psychology creates terminology that does not relieve but contributes to stereotypical assessments of a person’s capability once hit by such a malady as a stroke.    

"DINNER WITH ANDRE" HAS NOTHING ON US!

“My Dinner with Andre” (1981) was a film starring Andre Gregory and Wallace Shawn, depicting a conversation between Gregory and Shawn at Café des Artistes.  Their conversation covered such topics as experimental theatre, the nature of theatre, and the nature of life, contrasting Shawn's modest, down-to-earth humanism with Gregory's extravagant spiritual experiences.

You might say the conversation between David Ewing, Danny and Michele Schall and beautiful millennial Alyssa Schall with Betty and Me had aspects that might be seen to resemble that of Gregory and Shawn.

David Ewing, well read and a perspicacious student of a universe of subjects, spent twelve years studying at university, completing the course work in analytical philosophy at the University of California at Berkeley, one of the most prestigious graduate universities in the world in philosophy as well as many other disciplines, has however failed ever to write his dissertation.

Danny Schall, a college graduate, with an extensive and colorful entrepreneur resume, is affable with a ready wit and quick repartee especially to those generated by me, his uncle Jim.

Michele Schall, a college graduate with a graduate education, is a school teacher, and consistent with my own experience, a strict Roman Catholic upbringing with the scars to prove it.  She has well developed views based on a wide range of subjects and is quick to challenge if what is proffered is inconsistent with her experience. 

Elyssa Schall, soon to be a college sophomore, remained quiet until brought into the conversation by David Ewing for her reaction to my blunt declaration that the family was dead but not yet buried and that millennials were moving beyond social and cultural norms.  Always serene, diplomatic and respectful of the adults in the room, she personified for me the confidence and competence of this newest generation.

You might say the conversation, which went on for four hours, varied from earthy humanism to spiritual fatalism.    

To wit, David Ewing reacted rather vociferously to my description of analytical philosophy as little more than “BS,” as I found it as well as many other American systems of philosophy as incomprehensible.  

He countered by noting that I often quote Eric Hoffer in my works, the self-educated longshoreman and pragmatic philosopher, as being “given no respect by academia or Berkeley’s philosophy department.”

Hoffer, I offered, focused on behavior in mass movements with pragmatic and useful insights that have proven beneficial to me, consistent with the pragmatic philosophy of William James, and Ralph Waldo Emerson.  

He quickly reminded me that Emerson was a poet and essayist and not a philosopher, and so that subject went on and on.  There was no point in arguing on Emerson's transcendentalism which was a philosophy of the spirit with a short life.   

Michele had many useful remarks about what it was like to be an educator today in the public school system, while Betty had useful comments to make about student costs, conduct and administration in a private school.

Consistent with my essays, my comments often centered on language, on explosive words that had much to do with success or failure, happiness or sorrow, love or hate.

Such words as “focus” and “attention” and the behavior behind the words to generate the able learner.  The word “confident” and how critical that word is in dealing with the bullying tactics of authority figures at every level in every discipline and function in society.

The word “consequence” now fails to embarrass or demand atonement for untoward behavior, and of course there are the political words of "power" and "race," which are manipulated to blur actual issues.   

Many subjects such as abortion, Catholicism, mental and physical health were discussed openly, including the importance of confidence, and why it is so sullied.  

FACEBOOK "FATHER'S DAY" TRIBUTE

As readers who have read “In the Shadow of the Courthouse” (2003) know, I had a problem with my da.  My eldest son has had a problem with me.  This is no new experience.  Winston Churchill had a problem with his son, and his son with his celebrated father. 

Robert, my eldest son, is a doting parent and hard-working tennis professional and more like his father in his drive and personality than he would perhaps ever like to admit. 

In this four hour session, we discussed the common blood of family and how, though separated by 3,000 miles, and having not seen each other for more than a score of years, Danny resembles my da in looks and me in his personality.

Danny is gregarious and an extrovert while I am neither but our approach is consistently similar: that is, it is easier to ask forgiveness than permission to do the outrageous.

The resemblance is how we look at life and engage it, embracing our fears and using our Irish bravado to bluster our way forward whatever the challenge. 

While my son, Robert, has that same persona that same Irish gusto, only his approach is to novelize experience turning reality into engaging mythology, or is it the other way around? 

On Monday morning, June 22, after Sunday was “Father’s Day,” a message was posted by my son on Facebook that went viral on line.   

Anyone who creates viral content is likely – I’ve learned – to find the content takes on a life of its own after appearing on Facebook.

Perhaps Robert knows the secret formula to viral power online, or was it viral by accident?   I don’t know because I don’t follow Facebook or any other social media network much less tweet or text.

That  said I was surprised when hearing in California that he claimed that I had been a catcher for the Chicago Cubs.  

Now, I am a big Chicago Cubs fan, and in my youth, I was, indeed, offered a “class D” contract to play baseball for the Chicago Cubs in its farm system.  I opted instead to attend university.

In the 1950s, the minor leagues in support of Major League Baseball included class “D” and “C” and “B” and “A” and “AA” and “AAA” minor league baseball teams as stepping stones to the Big Leagues.  In other words, I would have been six stepping stones short of catching for the Chicago Cubs at Wrigley Field in Chicago. 

My beautiful Betty asked me if I felt embarrassed with this claim.

“No,” I replied, “I feel the same Irish blood runs through my son's veins as it does his father’s.” 

With the Irish, mythology and reality have a common ancestry.  It is the nature of the race and the reason it survives to this day as a poetic conundrum.

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