Lift Every Voice and Sing

As we look forward to another Martin Luther King Jr. holiday, celebrate the 150^th anniversary of the Emancipation Proclamation, and prepare to inaugurate our first African American president to a second term, I'd like to talk about the Civil Rights Movement and what it meant to my generation.

It was the inspiration for everything that followed, including the Latino, Asian, peace, women's, student, environmental and LGBT movements.

Our country is immeasurably better for all of them, but the Civil Rights Movement was the most important of all because it tackled America's original sin – the sin of slavery and its successor under a different name, Jim Crow.

Unlike other immigrants, Africans didn't come here looking for freedom or opportunity. They were kidnapped and transported here in slave ships.

As many as half died during the voyage, but the slavers still made a handsome profit. And if there was a storm, so much the better: They could simply toss the slaves overboard and get full reimbursement from the insurance companies for their lost "cargo."

Here in America, the slaves were at their master's mercy. If he wanted to rape them, kill them or sell their children, he could. And the government would back him up.

That was supposed to end with the Civil War, but it didn't. Historians like to say that the North won the war but the South won the peace.

When I was a kid in the 1950s segregation was the law of the land, and not just in the South, either.  Even liberal Berkeley didn't desegregate its schools until 1968.

But it was worst in the South. Working hand-in-hand with the elected authorities, the Ku Klux Klan was conducting a reign of terror against any African Americans who had the temerity to ask for their rights.

But, as Dr. King said, the arc of the moral universe is long but it bends towards justice. With no weapons to counter the KKK's armed terror, the brave pioneers of the Civil Rights Movement turned to the only tools they had: marches, sit-ins and anything else they could think of to hold a mirror up to the country and force the American people to watch what was being done in their name.

There was a terrible cost: beatings, bombings, arsons and countless murders. And instead of going after the Klan, the FBI went after Dr. King, even trying to drive him to suicide by threatening to reveal evidence of his extra-marital affairs.

But, like the early Christians, the blood of the martyrs was the seed of the church. On election night 2008, 40 years after Dr. King died, Barack Obama was elected our first African American president. And I cried tears of joy.

"I can't help it," I explained. "I've waited so long for this (expletive deleted) to be over."

I was ridiculously naive, of course. The hateful reaction to Obama's presidency over the last four years shows that racism is very much alive in America.

But he still won in spite of it. And that means racism might still be alive but it's far from well, especially among the younger generation.

So God bless Martin Luther King's memory. He not only made life better for African Americans, he made my life better, too.

Thanks, Dr. King.

Have A Nice Day

In a New Year's tradition that goes back to 1976, the Unicorn Hunters, a group of language conservationists at Lake Superior State University in Michigan, have released their annual List of Words Banished From the Queen's English for Mis-Use, Over-Use and General Uselessness.

And the number one banished word of 2012 is - slight drum roll, please - "Amazing!"

"LSSU was surprised at the number of nominations this year for 'amazing' and surprised to find that it hadn't been included on the list in the past," say the Unicorn Hunters. "It seemed to bother people everywhere, as nominations were sent from around the US and Canada and some from overseas, including Israel, England and Scotland. A Facebook page – 'Overuse of the Word Amazing' – threatened to change its title to 'Occupy LSSU' if 'amazing' escaped banishment this year."

Coming in a close second was "baby bump," followed by "shared sacrifice," "occupy," "man cave," "the new normal," "pet parent," "win the future," "trickeration," "ginormous" and "thank you in advance." "

The Unicorn Hunters were founded by W.T. "Bill" Rabe, the school's public relations director, as a publicity gimmick to put LSSU on the map. And he succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. Over the years, the list has been expanded to include such groaners as "more bang for the buck" (1996), "bring the evil-doers to justice" (2002), "don't even go there" (1997), "teachable moment" (2010), "back in the day " (2008), "BFF" (2011), "chill out" (1980), "if ____, then the terrorists win" (2002), "no problem" (1980), "in my humble opinion" (1992), "baddaabing!" (1994), "politically correct" (1994), combined celebrity names such as "Brangelina" (2007), and "your call is very important to us" (1996).

After Rabe retired in 1987 the university, which knew it had a good thing on its hands, copyrighted the name and continued the tradition.

The very first phrase on the very first hit list in 1976 was "Have a nice day."

"It's not that we wish anyone ill," Rabe explained. "But this has become so overused, telephone operators use it even when people call funeral homes."

                                   * * *

Meanwhile, looking for a fun read to gratify your inner techno-geek? Have I got a book for you!

It's "Mad Science: Einstein's Fridge, Dewar's Flask, Mach's Speed, and 362 Other Inventions and Discoveries That Made Our World," featuring 365 of the most amusing anecdotes from Wired Magazine's popular "This Day In Tech" column.

The editor and author of many of the entries: San Francisco journalist Randy Alfred.

"Mad Science" ranges chronologically from January 1 (1538: First New Year of the Gregorian Calendar) to December 31 (1938: First breathalyzer test – just in time for New Year's Eve!).

In between are such gems as February 14 (1929: Al Capone uses cutting-edge technology – the Tommy gun – to wipe out the Bugs Moran mob), May 4 (1538: First use of the "@" symbol), August 24 (2006: Pluto demoted from planet status), and September 21 (1982: First use of the smiley-face emoticon).

The earliest entry is April 24, 1184 BCE: Greeks Use Wooden Horse to Defeat Trojans' State-of-The-Art Security.

"'This isn't a book meant to be read all at once from cover to cover," says Alfred. "Ideally, it should be read in short amounts while sitting down in the smallest room in the house."

 

Bashing Teachers

(Above: Madame)

Two weeks after the massacre in Newtown, I still can't stop thinking about the 20 little children who were murdered – or the ones who survived, either.

But today I want to talk about the teachers. Not just those who sacrificed their lives to protect the children in their care, but also the others, who saved hundreds of other kids by following the safety plan drawn up by principal Dawn Hochsprung, who lost her life trying to tackle the shooter.

They locked doors, hid children in closets and cabinets, and desperately did anything they could think of – leading the kids in drawing, coloring or singing softly – to keep them distracted, even as they knew that other children and their own colleagues were dying nearby.

Teachers deserve all the praise that's being heaped on them today. But how soon will it be before we go back to insulting them, paying them peanuts, slashing their pensions and benefits, crushing their unions, cutting their school budgets so they're forced to dig into their own pockets to buy such basic school supplies for their students as pencils and paper, making them teach to standardized tests instead of imbuing the kids with the love of learning, and blaming them for everything that's wrong with the education system?

We claim to love our children; but we pay teachers, who spend more time with our kids each day than we do, less than we pay plumbers. The obvious conclusion: We care more about our toilets than we do about our children.

We entrust our children, who are our very future, to teachers to be educated, nurtured, comforted and socialized. And, as was demonstrated in Newtown, sometimes teachers are even called upon to throw themselves into harm's way to protect them.

They do all this because teaching is a labor of love. (It sure ain't a way to get rich.) And the kids appreciate it, even if we don't.

Let me tell you about a teacher much closer to home named Sarah Wadsworth. She taught French at Petaluma High School, and she was the strictest teacher in the school. She was tough as nails and held the kids to impossibly high standards, and they adored her for it.

As my young friend Lesley, now a junior at Cal, put it, "You always made sure you did your French homework before you did anything else."

"Madame," as the kids called her, was constantly on their case for dressing like grunges. She herself was always turned out perfectly, like a typical Frenchwoman. A familiar sound in the hallways was the click-clack of her high heels.

Last Feb. 1 Madame died suddenly and unexpectedly from a brain aneurism. She was only 51.

The next day, all her students showed up at school dressed to the nines, including high heels. And they all took new names.

Lesley's younger sister, Sierra, a senior, is now calling herself Eponine, after a character in "Les Miserables." All her friends have taken similar monikers.

And they plan to dress the way Madame would have wanted them to next Feb. 1, the anniversary of her death, and turn it into an annual tradition.

I can't think of a lovelier tribute – or a better demonstration of the difference a great teacher can make in so many young lives.

Tragedy In Connecticut

Charlotte Bacon, 6.

Daniel Barden, 7.

Olivia Engel, 6.

Josephine Gay, 7.

Ana Marquez-Greene, 6.

Dylan Hockley, 6.

Madeleine Hsu, 6.

Catherine Hubbard, 6.

Chase Kowalski, 7.

Jesse Lewis, 6.

James Mattioli, 6. 

Grace McDonnell, 7. 

Emilie Parker, 6. 

Jack Pinto, 6. 

Noah Pozner, 6. 

Caroline Previdi, 6. 

Jessica Rekos, 6. 

Avielle Richman, 6.

Benjamin Wheeler, 6. 

Allison Wyatt, 6.

Rachel Davino, 29
Dawn Hochsprung, 47
Anne Marie Murphy, 52
Lauren Rousseau, 30
Mary Sherlach, 56
Victoria Soto, 27

 I want you to read their names one last time before we forget them forever, as we surely will. Within a few weeks we'll have moved on to more important things, like Lindsay Lohan, the Kardashian sisters and the NFL playoffs. And all the brave talk about finally doing something to curb the proliferation of guns and the glorification of violence in our culture will be swept away like New Year's Eve confetti on New Year's Day.

Until the next time. Then we'll repeat the charade all over again.

Do I sound angry? It's because I am. Angry at the shooter, of course. And his mother, too. She knew she had a troubled kid on her hands, so what did she do? Instead of taking him to a psychiatrist, she took him to the shooting range. Great parenting, mom.

But I'm also angry at you. And me. We keep allowing these things to happen. We elect politicians who are scared to death of the gun lobby, and then we wonder why they do nothing except mouth pious words about this not being the right time to talk politics. (Translation: Let's put off the discussion until memories fade and people don't care anymore.)

I've been watching this dance going on since President Kennedy's assassination almost 50 years ago. You'd think that would have been enough to convince people that we were on a slippery slope, but it wasn't.

Neither were all the tragedies that followed, including the Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy assassinations, the attempted assassination of President Reagan, the massacre at the Sikh temple in Wisconsin, the shootings at Gabby Giffords' town hall in Tucson, or the movie theater in Aurora, Colorado. or the shopping mall in Oregon or Virginia Tech. The pattern was always the same: a lot of breast-beating in the immediate aftermath, followed by business as usual.

If anything, the trend is going the other way. The night before the massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary School, the Republican governor of Michigan signed a new law making it OK to bring concealed weapons to schools, churches and day care centers, and other Republican-dominated states are poised to do the same thing.

As for President Obama, he talked a good game during the 2008 election, but the only gun legislation he's signed in the last four years is one making it OK to bring concealed weapons into the national parks, although his speech at the prayer vigil Sunday night gives hope for improvement.

So spare me the teddy bears and the balloons and the  flowers. Spare me the prayers and the solemn vows. I'll believe we're serious when we actually do something, not before.

Think I'm being too cynical? OK, prove me wrong.

Please.

Remembering Santa

(Above: Dennis with Herb Caen)

           

With Christmas fast approaching, my thoughts turn, as they do every Holiday season, to Dennis Cavagnaro.

He was the only person I knew who worked as a free-lance Santa Claus. (His business card read, "Have sleigh, will travel.")

Each December, he'd take his red Santa suit out of the closet and go forth to spread the Christmas spirit. He traveled to his gigs in full costume on public transportation.

"It's hard to drive with that big stomach (actually, a pillow) in the way," he explained.

And he always stayed in character, waving and shouting "Merry Christmas" to everyone he met.

"Once you put on that red suit, you're on," he said. "It doesn't matter whether you're getting paid or not."

In return, he'd get big grins from the adults and adoring smiles from the children. When he rode the cable cars in San Francisco, the gripmen would salute him by playing Christmas carols on their bells.

"Santa gets back a lot more than he gives, believe me," he said.

His love for little kids was boundless. He made a point to learn each one's name beforehand, and he listened patiently until he was sure they were really finished.

But he never said, "Ho, ho, ho!"

 "It scares little kids, he explained.

Dennis grew up in Oakland, where one of his childhood playmates was future 49er quarterback John Brodie.

"I probably caught more passes from him than Gene Washington," he'd say.

He was also a batboy for the Oakland Oaks, starring Billy Martin and managed by Casey Stengel.

He was a humble man, but he was very proud of being an Oaklander – just as he was proud of being Italian, a member of the Lake Merritt Breakfast Club (Badge #9014), and a Cal grad, Class of 1958. (The class motto: "None so great as '58").

Most of all, he was proud of being a Marine. He spent 20 years in the Corps, retiring in 1979 with the rank of Major. He was a Marine aviator who flew A-4 Skyhawk fighters on more than 100 combat missions.

He was also my best source, hands down. I can't count the number of great stories he turned me on to, including my favorite story of all, the 442^nd Regimental Combat Team, the Japanese-American World War II unit that was awarded more medals, man for man, than any other unit in American history.

He always had a big smile on his face, which belied a tragedy that haunted him all his adult life. He once had a daughter of his own, an adorable little girl named Lea, but she died when she was only 13 months old.

And that's why I think he was so great with children. He saw a little bit of Lea in every kid he met. By being kind to them, he was being kind to the daughter he never had a chance to watch growing up.

Six years ago Dennis suddenly fell ill and was rushed to the hospital, where the doctors discovered an advanced stage of cancer. He sank rapidly, and within a week he was gone. I never had a chance to say goodbye. Or thanks.

So let me do it now. Semper Fi, Dennis. Go Bears! Oakland rules! And, of course, Buon Natale.

Dear Santa

"Dear Santa, I know that you're probably very busy right now, but I would just like to tell you what I want for Christmas. I would like an iPhone 4 because it's not the most advanced thing out there but it has all the functions I would like. Please do not get me one with a lot of gigabytes because I know that costs more. I don't want to make you spend a lot of money. Maybe you could add it to my family's phone plan to save $. Best wishes, Cole. P.S. Ho, ho, ho."

"Dear Santa, I know you are bisy and I know I didn't behave good. But I love you so much. Sansirly, Angel."

"Dear Santa Clause, My name is Azeneth and I am 9 years old. My sister is 7 years old and my brother is 4 years old, and they are really sad because my dad and my mom are not working. I wish you could give them some presents. Merry Christmas, Azeneth."

Once upon a time, letters like this wound up in the dead letter office, where they eventually were thrown away.

But for the last 25 years postmasters from all over northern California have been sending them to the Oakland Post Office, which has invited the public to answer them.

Some are hilarious; others are heartbreaking. But they all demonstrate a touching faith in Santa and his ability to make everything all right, if only for one night, that they are an inspiration for us grownups, too.

You, too, can be a Santa's helper and answer some of these letters. JUST Call the Post Office at 510-874-8737 between 7:30 a.m. and 4 p.m., and they'll set you up.

"You don't necessarily have to send a present," says Consumer & Industry Manager Marygrace Cruz, who directs the Santa's Mailroom program. "They're so grateful just knowing that somebody out there cares."

But, of course, if you're moved to enclose a gift, nobody's going to stop you.

And now, without further ado, here's what our kids want for Christmas:

"Dear Santa, I definitely will never forget the true meaning of Christmas. This year, I've been asking all my relatives for money so I can buy myself an iPad. I want to know if I could have $150 in iTunes from you so once I buy my iPad I can buy music, apps, and other cool items. If you could do that for me it would make me super happy. Thank you. Sincerely, Matt."

"Dear Santa, My name is Bryan. I am 9 years old. I am learning my multiplication and division. I live with my mommy and my brother Santiago. I love playing ball with him. But I'm kind of sad because my mommy said we are not getting any Christmas presents this year because we don't have enough money. I wish you can make Christmas special for me and my family. Thank you very much for taking the time to read this letter. Hope your Christmas is magical. Love, Bryan."

"Dear Santa, Some of my friends don't believe in you, but I do. Santa, how old are you? I think you do about 70 Christmases, and then your son takes over for you. Love, Aiden."

"Dear Santa, I had trouble last year in school. I was bullyed after school started. I am 13 years old and 5'9". All the shorter boys and some girls always call me Giant Gertie and Bigfoot every day. I hate this. After my mother found out why I was holding my head down and pursued this, but the principal did nothing. I was labeled a snitch, and the children trashed my backpack and stoled my eyeglasses. All summer I stayed in my room, but my mother has done so much to make me know how lucky I am to be tall. Santa, my phone was broken by the kids when they threw my backpack in the dumpster. All I want is another smart phone. I would be so very happy. Thank you, Brittney."

"Dear Santa, I know you're up there! So here's my Christmas list! Can I please have a 2012 Holiday Barbie Doll, a golden retriever puppy, a Justin Bieber signed poster, cash, gift cards, and one more thing: Please donate $50 to a family in need that survived Hurricane Sandy. Love, Paige."

"Dear Santa, Hello! My name is Esbin, and I'm 10 years old. I think this Christmas I'm going to be sad because my mother is not gonna be able to make my wishes come true. She is not working because she takes care of my little brother. If you could make my wish come true I would be really thankful, and it's also gonna be the most unforgettable Christmas! Thank you. I really appreciate it. Love, Esbin."

"Dear Santa, This year for Christmas I would like to make others happy. I want you to give Bella some cute earrings that won't make her react. I want to get my dad a photo that isn't in stores. I want my mom to get something she really wants. I want to make you a gift, and I want to show others that you really exist and you're not a fake. I would also like a cute camera to take pictures with and show my artistic talents! I hope you liekd your present last year, and you will LOVE your present this year. Love, Gina. P.S. The highlighted letters mean nothing. I just felt like making this letter colorful!"

"Dear Santa, I would like peanut butter flavored treats. Well, that's all because I am a dog. Have a woofing day! From Lefty."

"Dear Santa, My name is Rose and I am eleven years old. Even though kids that are my age stop believing in you, but I still do. I moved school two times and I don't have that many friends. This year was a hard year because my auntie died and I got surgery on my knee. All I am asking for is for you to try to give me a present this year. Love, Rose."

"Dear Santa, For Christmas I would really like my dog Tina back because she means everything to me and I love her very much. Love, Jack. P.S. Please write back."

"Dear Santa, I want something special for my mom. She is the best mom, but she's been sick all year and never had dinner with the whole family because she's been busy being sick. All I want is dinner for my mom and sister. Please help me if you can. Thank you very much, Jacqueline."

"Dear Santa, If I am on the 'nice' list, then I would like the following: vanity, iPhone5, makeup, bracele, clothes, puppy, Aeropostale perfume, and Seventeen magazine and Ugg slippers. Love, Madeline."

 "Dear Santa, I am 8 years old, and I have been a good girl. Love, Sunnie. P.S. I left you some cookies and milk!"

"Dear Santa, I want my cousin Ashleigh back. She died last year. Mom says I can't. Thank you, Santa. Andrew."

"Dear Santa, For Christmas I would like Legos and Pokemon cards. I would also like a Playstation 3, but I know that is expensive so I understand if you can't. Thank you, Raymond."

 "Dear Santa, For Christmas I would like a nerf gun and remote control airplane. My mom and dad would love the PG&E and water back on. They can't afford stuff like that because my mom goes to school and my dad is disabled. My mom tries to get jobs. They can't every buy a car to take us to school or clothes to wear. If you could help them I would love you Santa forever. Thank you, Noah."

"Dear Santa Claus, I'm a senior in high school applying to colleges at the moment. I don't know if I'm too old to ask for a gift, but I really want this. My family has always been low income, and my dad lost his job last year. He is a painter, and the rainy season has just started, so the situation is getting worse. I really want a Mac laptop so I can do all my classwork, especially now that I'm moving on to college. I'm the first child in my family on track and motivated to go to college. Thank you for doing this and taking time to read my letter. Sincerely and with much love, Makia."

More Blessed To Give

Politicians are fond of saying that you can't solve a problem by throwing money at it, but in the real world there's a lot of human suffering that could be easily fixed by the timely infusion of a little cash.

Such as a single mom whose budget is already stretched to the limit putting food on the table for her kids, leaving nothing left for their Christmas presents.

Or a Berkeley High senior who would have been the first in her family to go to college, except for one hitch: She couldn't afford the college application fees.

They were just two of the almost 1,000 people who got a very welcome surprise last December when an envelope containing a check mysteriously appeared in their mailbox.

The checks weren't large, ranging from $30 to $100. But for the recipients, they made all the difference.

And there were no strings attached. No guidelines, no conditions, no sermons to hear first.

What's more, this has been going on for 100 years.

It all started in 1912 when Jo Mills, a prominent figure in early Berkeley, founded the Berkeley Christmas Committee. The committee produced a large-scale pageant every December to raise money to provide gifts of food, clothing, blankets and toys for needy families. The pageant eventually grew into a colorful spectacle with 800 children and 200 adults.

The pageant was cancelled during World War II. But the work of the Christmas Committee never stopped.

It became a non-profit organization, changed its name to the Berkeley Christmas Fund, and switched from giving gifts in kind to mailing checks directly to the recipients.

In 1992 the name was changed again to Berkeley Holiday Fund. But nothing else has changed.

Virtually 100 percent of the money goes directly to the recipients. There's no overhead – no office, no paid staffers, just a bunch of enthusiastic volunteers.

And most of the logistical support is donated. The postage is paid by the Berkeley Mayor's office, and the Mechanics' Bank cashes the checks free of charge.

The Fund doesn't choose the recipients. It gets the names from local social service agencies, including Children's Hospital, Berkeley Food and Housing Project, Bananas, Berkeley Head Start, and the Salvation Army.

"We take the social workers' word for it," says Andrew Williams, who co-chairs the Fund with his wife, Linda (who, by the way, writes detective novels under the pen name Linda Grant). "That's their job. Our job is to write checks."

The social workers appreciate the lack of red tape, a rare luxury in the bureaucratic world they work in. One wrote, "I especially appreciate that you are not condescending in your generosity."

Next weekend, about ten volunteers will sit around the kitchen table in the Williams's home and stuff envelopes with this year's checks. It's that down-home.

If you'd like to support this effort, please mail a tax-deductible check to The Berkeley Holiday Fund, P.O. Box 9779, Berkeley, CA 94707 or visit www.berkeleyholidayfund.org.

A few donations have been as large as $1,000, but most are in the $5 to $100 range.

"I think it's the $5 and $10 donations we treasure the most," says Linda. "We know many of these people are on fixed incomes, so even $5 is a tremendous sacrifice."

Merry Christmas.