The next "Greatest Generation"

(Left: Edward Gibbon. Right: Neil Howe)

The great historian Edward Gibbon famously remarked that history is "little more than the register of the crimes, follies and misfortune of mankind," and the decade just past is a perfect example.
It started out with acrimony and division over the Bush/Gore election and its legal aftermath, and it ended with acrimony and division over health care, global warming, and the rage that some people feel about having a black man in the White House.
In between, we had a traumatic terrorist attack, two wars, an economic collapse, countless sex scandals, and the death of a great American city from a combination of indifference and incompetence. (But hey, Brownie did a heckuva job.)
Gibbon was writing about the decline and fall of the Roman Empire, and there are a lot of people who are worried that our own empire is going the same way.
But I see a ray of hope - actually, millions of them - and they're right under our noses.
I'm talking about the younger generation, of course. Let's face it: You and I are creatures of the past. Every day that goes by, we count less and less.
But these kids are the future. They, not we, will determine whether computers turn out to be our servants or our masters, or whether genetic engineering turns us into Frankenstein's monsters. They are the ones who will have to cope with climate change, the destruction of the rainforests, the growing gap between the haves and the have-nots, and the frightening rise of fundamentalist extremists in every religion, not just Islam.
I have a friend named Neil Howe, who, along with his co-author, the late Bill Strauss, wrote a series of fascinating books ("Generations," "13th Gen," and "Fourth Turning") that trace an amazing 4-generational cycle that repeats itself in American history, over and over again.
Every four generations, they say, we get what they call a "heroic" generation. We're all familiar with the last one: the G.I.'s and Rosie the Riveteers. From Steven Spielberg to Tom Brokaw, we are heaping honors on "The Greatest Generation" even as they are slipping away from us. And we beat our breasts, wondering how we can ever live up to them.
Well, good news: Neil says this current crop of kids - the Millennials - show every sign of being another heroic generation, just like the G.I.s. If you're looking for Private Ryan, she's a senior in high school.
So what are we doing to get them ready? Just listen to the debates in Washington and Sacramento. Everybody is pushing their own pet projects, but nobody is speaking up for the Millennials.
Why are we slashing elementary and high school budgets and raising the fees at the University of California? Why do we still see kids selling raffle tickets to buy uniforms (or even worse, instruments) for their school band? Are we going to stiff another generation the way we did the Gen-Xers?
When I was their age, California had the best public schools in the country, routinely ranking first in both reading and math scores. Today, we're near the bottom, along with states like Louisiana and Mississippi.
And back then, every high school senior in California was guaranteed a free education all the way through college. The best students got a free (and I do mean free - no tuition or fees) four years at one of the U.C. campuses; the others got a free ride at one of the state colleges.
Is it too much to ask why it can't be that way again?
Mind you, there are a lot of other issues affecting children that need our attention, too, including child abuse, gun control and the creeping vulgarization of our culture. But the schools are a good place to start.
This generation, in FDR's words, has a rendezvous with destiny. Let's make sure they keep that appointment.

Two Cheers for New Year's

(Above: Ernie Davis)

Happy New Year. It's bound to be better than last year,
and I have the proof: Chinese fortune cookies.
Last year at this time, I reported that the cookies from two of my favorite Chinese restaurants - Hunan Villa in Pinole and Renee's Place in Albany - were striking a cautionary tone, with fortunes like "Don't make any large purchases right now" and "A penny saved is a penny earned."
Well, last week I loaded up on Chinese food again, and this time the fortunes read, "A promising business opportunity awaits you" and "You will have gold pieces by the bushel."
Meanwhile, I don't how you celebrate New Year's Eve, but I plan to observe the occasion the same way I do every year: by being in bed fast asleep long before the stroke of midnight.
I loathe New Year's Eve. It's my least favorite holiday. The fact that it comes only a week after my favorite holiday, Christmas, makes it even worse.
Christmas is warm and fuzzy. New Year's Eve is cold and glitzy. Christmas is about giving gifts and making little children happy. New Year's Eve is about drinking and false bonhomie.
New Year's Day is getting more generic, too. When I was growing up in the 1950s I eagerly looked forward to the bowl games, and there were only four: Rose, Cotton, Sugar and Orange. They were all played on Jan. 1, and they featured the best teams in the nation.
Now there are more than 40 bowls, stretching over more than two weeks, and they're just generic infomercials for their sponsors. Where is the tradition behind the Little Caesar's Pizza Bowl, Meineke Car Care Bowl, Papajohns.com Bowl or the Chick-fil-A Bowl?
Even the traditional bowls have sold their souls. Now it's AT&T Cotton Bowl, Tostitos Fiesta Bowl, Allstate Sugar Bowl, FedEx Orange Bowl and "The Rose Bowl Presented by CTI."
And instead of featuring the very best teams, any school with a winning record gets to go to a bowl, and sometimes you don't even need that. Marshall, which was only 6-6, played in the Little Caesar's Pizza Bowl last Saturday. Some may call that parity; I call it mediocrity.
The best part of the old bowl games is that they were miniature morality plays. This was at the height of the Civil Rights movement, and three of the four bowls - Cotton, Sugar and Orange - were played in the South. The games regularly pitted an all-white southern team against an integrated team from the North, and both sides saw the contest as a referendum on segregation.
More often than not, the Southern players would embarrass themselves by shouting racial taunts and deliberately trying to injure the African American players. And more often than not, the Northern kids responded by whupping their butts.
That's what happened in the 1961 Cotton Bowl, when Syracuse's Ernie Davis ran wild against Texas, stomping the Longhorns 23-12. But Syracuse never picked up its trophy at the awards banquet because Davis and the other African American players weren't allowed in the segregated country club where it was being held, and their teammates refused to go without them.
And in all the years since, I'll bet not one of them has even for a moment regretted missing that banquet.

What we have lost

There's something melancholy about the end of the year. There's always the haunting sense of what might have been.
A year ago, I was sure the election of Barack Obama would usher in a new era of good feelings, marked by mutual respect and cooperation. Didn't quite work out that way, did it?
Most of all, I'm saddened by the realization of how many wonderful people we lost this year. Not only celebrities like Paul Newman and Walter Cronkite, but also less famous people like Hilda Bell Roberts of Berkeley, who passed away on Sept. 23 at age 93.
Hilda was trained as a nurse, and when the Spanish Civil War broke out in 1936 she sailed to Europe on the S.S. Normandie to volunteer her services to the Loyalist (anti-fascist) side.
She worked as an operating room nurse before transferring to the front, where she traveled with a mobile surgical unit that operated in a variety of temporary locations - including an unused railway tunnel, a nut factory and a mansion - always staying one step ahead of Franco's bombers.
During World War II she joined the U.S. Army Nurse Corps and was stationed in New Guinea, where she was awarded two bronze battle stars for saving patients during enemy attacks.
But those medals didn't do her much good during the McCarthy era, when the State Department revoked her passport because of her nursing activities in Spain in the 1930s. She was accused of being "prematurely anti-fascist." (Never mind that America went to war against fascism only a few years later.)
Undaunted, she went back to school and earned an advanced degree in psychiatric nursing, which she practiced at Napa State Hospital and taught to others at Napa Community College.
And she never stopped fighting the good fight. In 1988 she went to Nicaragua with Elders for Survival to pick coffee. She also traveled with Pastors for Peace, riding yellow school busses bringing computers and medical supplies to Cuba.
She was on the famous trip when the buses were stopped at the Texas border, and she and the other participants protested by fasting and remaining on the buses despite the broiling heat.
She was also a regular presence in front of the St. Helena post office, where she would stand vigil, often alone, against U.S. policies in Central America.
Hers was a life well lived, full of service to others.
Another good person we lost this year was Jim Churchill of Alameda, who died on Nov. 3. Jim was a big, rough, tough Marine, but you never met a gentler man.
Along with his wife, Gail, he was a dedicated supporter of Island Cat Resources and Adoption, which rescues hundreds of homeless and abused cats and kittens in Alameda and Oakland every year.
Their home was constantly filled with foster kitties, which they would raise and teach to trust humans before placing them in permanent homes.
Rescuing abused animals can be a painful experience. But Jim could always be counted on to make things better with his kindness, quick wit, common sense and infinite patience.
The Marines' motto is "Semper Fi" - Latin for "Always Faithful." That was Jim in a nutshell. He, too, will be missed.

Local Boys Make Good By Doing Good

Remember Alex Velez and Nikhil Arora, the 22-year-old Cal grads whose fledgling business, BTTR (pronounced "better") Ventures, beat 1,500 competitors around the world to become one the top 12 finalists in the 2009 World Challenge Competition For Social Ventures, co-sponsored by Newsweek, Royal Dutch Shell and the BBC?
Alex and Nikhil recycle used coffee grounds from Peet's Coffee, which otherwise would be thrown away, and use them to grow organic oyster mushrooms. They were the only American team to make it to the finals, and among the youngest competitors in the whole contest.
I asked you to vote for them online, and you sure did! Three weeks ago they were notified that they had made the top three! But the final order of finish wouldn't be announced until the awards ceremony on Dec. 1 in The Hague, the capital of the Netherlands.
"We couldn't have done it without your readers," said Alex. "It meant a lot to us to have the support of our community."
So a few days after Thanksgiving they were flown to the Netherlands.
They were met at the Amsterdam airport by a sleek black Mercedes sedan and whisked to The Hague, where they met the other two winners - Dr. Wijaya Godakumbura, a surgeon from Sri Lanka who invented a kerosene lamp that won't accidentally ignite an accidental fire when broken or overturned; and Risa Bhinekawati from Indonesia, who invented a process to turn organic waste from village markets into compost.
They were put up at a posh hotel next to the Parliament Building, a 13th Century brick palace that doubles as the headquarters of the International Court of Justice.
The ceremony itself was held at the City Hall, which Nikhil describes as "an insanely futuristic building right out of 'The Matrix.'"
Alex and Nikhil wore suits for the occasion.
"I can't remember the last time I wore a coat and tie," says Alex. "I think it was a wedding or something."
The ceremony was just like the Heisman Trophy presentation. The three finalists sat in the front row, trying not to look nervous, while a series of speakers, including Achim Steiner, Director General of The World Conservation Union, did their best to milk the suspense.
Finally, the winner was announced. It turned out to be Dr. Godakumbura, the inventor of the super-safe kerosene lamp. Alex and Nikhil were the runner-ups.
"He totally deserved it," says Nikhil. "He's devoted his whole life to this lamp. He invented it because a lot of his poor patients were suffering death or severe disfigurement from accidental fires."
Dr. Godakumbura received a $20,000 check. Alex and Nikhil received $10,000, all of which will be ploughed back into the business.
"We want to automate some of the processes," Nikhil said. "Right now, we're doing everything by hand. For one thing, it would be nice to get a hydraulic lift instead of lugging around those big sacks of coffee grounds."
Alex added, "We'd also like to expand our operation, maybe move to a bigger warehouse. We're currently processing 3,000 pounds of coffee grounds each week, but we'd like to process a lot more."
BTTR Ventures (the name stands for "back to the roots") mushrooms are sold at seven Whole Foods stores and four Farmers' Markets in the East Bay. You can also buy do-it-yourself "Gourmet Garden" packs from their website, www.bttrventures.com.

The Gift of the Magus

Next Friday, volunteers from Professional Firefighters of Contra Costa County Local 1230 will haul more than 150 folk art sculptures up Moeser Avenue to the corner of Moeser and Seaview.
So will begin one of El Cerrito's most beloved traditions - the annual Shadi Sculpture Holiday Display. It will remain there until Dec. 27.
The tradition started in December 1949, when an immigrant from India named Sundar Shadi surprised his neighbors with a Christmas present.
They awoke one morning to find his front yard filled with papier-mâché shepherds, wise men, angels, camels goats, sheep, doves, spires stars, minarets and domes - all lovingly handmade from papier-mâché and chicken wire and painted by hand.
Each year, the display kept growing until it depicted the whole town of Bethlehem.
But there were no statues of Jesus, Mary or Joseph. Mr. Shadi, as everyone called him, was a Sikh, and he came to this country to escape religious persecution from both Hindus and Muslims. So he purposely kept the display non-sectarian.
The citizens of El Cerrito quickly took Mr. Shadi and his creation to their hearts.
"To many people around here, Mr. Shadi was Christmas," says former Mayor Jane Bartke.
And his fame spread far beyond the city limits. The tour busses used to line up, bringing visitors from as far away as Sacramento and San Jose - more than 70,000 each holiday season.
Mr. Shadi kept it up until 1997, when failing eyesight forced him to quit. He died in 2002 at the age of 101.
Then something happened that showed why El Cerrito is such a special place. The people themselves simply refused to let his legacy die.
Under Bartke's leadership, the El Cerrito Soroptomist club took over the sculptures - with the blessing of Mr. Shadi's family - and restored them to their former glory. In 2003 the Shadi sculptures made a triumphant return, and they've returned every holiday season since.
It's a true community effort, including individuals like Gordon White, who prepares the ground for the display; Dick Ritz and Rich Bartke, who do the setup; John Wilson, who operates the music; and Jackson Lusk, who runs the security cameras; as well as El Cerrito firefighters (working on their own time), local businesses, the city government and PG&E, which provides the land.
There are many different ways in which you can participate, too.
Money always helps. All the labor is voluntary, but there's still electricity, insurance, repairing the sculptures and storage during the rest of the year to pay for.
You can "adopt" one of the sculptures - a wise man (including his camel) for $500, a large shepherd for $350, a hookah pipe for $50, or assorted sheep for $25.
Send a tax-deductible check to the El Cerrito Community Foundation, P.O. Box 324, El Cerrito CA 94530.
Even more importantly, you can volunteer your effort. Bartke and her cadre of volunteers, who are from the generation that knew Mr. Shadi personally, aren't getting any younger, and they can't do this forever.
It's time for the next generation, who didn't know him but thrilled to the holiday display when they were little kids, to step up and eventually take over. Call Bartke at 510-235-1315.
The display will be lighted with music every day from 5 to 10 p.m. from Dec. 18 through Dec. 27.

Dear Santa

"Dear Santa, Starting today I am going to behave." - Rhea

"Dear Santa, I'm going to stop peeing in my bed." - Rohan

"Dear Santa, I have been a good girl, or so says my mom and dad. I will be 5 next week. But you're Santa, so you already know that." - Logan

Every year, thousands of letters like these from all over Northern California wind up at the downtown Oakland Post Office.
And every year, Consumer Affairs Director Elma Ramirez and her trusty elves - Toni Harmon, Tim Wong, Rita Christobal, Brenda Presley, Janet Ezell, David Thompson and Carmen Boeche - separate them into two piles, one labeled "Needy" and the other labeled "Greedy," and ask the public to help answer them. (See below to find out how you can participate.)
Some are heartwarming. Some are heartbreaking. And some are just plain hilarious. Here's what our kids are thinking:

"Dear Santa, I really don't want nothing for Christmas. I would just like my younger siblings to have something to open. My mother tries hard, but she needs help. She doesn't have a job. I would like her to receive something for Christmas because she really tries to take care of all her kids. I hope this reaches Santa. If not, at least I tried." - Brianna

"Dear Santa, Do you have an e-mail address? If you do, please give it to me so we can send messages quicker. And do you have a phone number? If you do, give it to me so I can call you when you are not busy. Love, Bella."

"Dear Santa, I am a good girl in school. I'm going to get 100 persent on my spelling test. Love, Rosalinda."

"Dear Santa, I'm sorry I was bad this year. It's because I'm getting older, but I'll always believe in you. All I want for Christmas is to spend some time with my dad. It makes me sad when I see everyone with their dads and makes me want to cry. I like to write to you because you understand me. Sincerely, Alexis. P.S. Please write back."

"Dear Santa, Could I please get a Big Fat Piggie Bank? Make her pink with white polka dots and as fat as you can. I saw one at Marshall's, but Grandma said they may have a fatter one at Walgreen's. Thank you, Santa. Love, Kayla."

"Dear Santa, I know that at the moment you are stressed because Christmas is coming, but I hope you can read my letter. I have been a good boy all year. At the bottom is a signature that says that my parent/guardian agrees that I have been a good boy. Now that I have gone over the necessaries, her is my wish list. I list them in order of importance." (No signature)

"Hi Santa. I'm writing for my little brother because he is too small to write. He loves soccer. He plays with me every day and he is very good at it. He loves soccer balls and he likes soccer shoes, size 13. He also likes shorts. His size is 7 and his shirt size is large in little boys'. If U can't it's OK. I no you tried. Sincerely, Jesus."

"Dear Santa, I know I was kind of mean to Willow, but I tried my best this year. But I just can't ignore her, even though I know I should. What I want is expensive and very, very cool. I bet it's going to be a big fat NO! I want a mini motorcycle. You know, the kind that Jacqueline has. Merry Chrismas, Summer."

"Dear Santa Claus, My name is Iise. I have a little sister, Lizbeth. I'm 13 years old and she is 11 years old. We are writing this letter because we wish you can bring us something this Christmas. We need clothes and shoes. Thank you for reading our letter. We will be waiting for you. Sincerely, Iise and Lizbeth."

"Dear Santa, I hope you have a safe drive around the world. I've been good this year. I'm still working on being really nice to Eliza. I'm almost there." (No signature)

"Dear Santa, What I want to ask for is if you can give a little donation for our people in El Salvador. Please. These people are sleeping on streets. Kids are alone with no parents. Families are totally alone. Please, if you can send a little donation. Thank you, Rosibel."

"Dear Santa, My little sister is 2 years old. She wants a playhouse that has a kitchen and a fake phone. Can you bring it before 3 p.m. because my parents go to work then? Love, Monserat."

"Dear Santa, I just wanted to tell you we won't be in Monterey for Christmas. We will be at Nanni's house in Genesee, New York. Please leave our presents in Monterey. We only want our stockings filled in Genesee. From Ava."

"Dear Santa, I wish for my two little brothers to have the toys they want and for my mom and us to have food. I hope it's not too much to ask. My mom only works half time. Thank you, Selena."

"Dear Santa, I'm 9 now, and I have a really strict teacher and I try really hard so I won't have to stay on the bench for a week. And when we all go in the classroom at math time, he yells because someone was behaving bad, and I get scared. Santa, if you have time, can you send me a letter back about what to do? Your best friend, Jasmin."

"Dear Santa, I am sorry, but my Christmas list has not been made. I'm not exactly sure how I've been. Overall, I think my record is pretty clean, even though I might have been bad sometimes. Don't worry, I really do believe in you. Lots of love and Christmas spirit, Noah."

"Dear Santa, How are you doing today? I have been a good little boy throughout the year. I would like it if you would send me a gift because my parents don't have a job so they can't afford to buy me one. Santa, I would love it if you can send me some clothes. My size is 2. Thank you Santa! Love, Pedro."

"Dear Santa, It's that time of year again. You know, I've been wanting to ask you some questions. First, do you know God? Second, how do you make your reindeer fly? Third, why do you live in the North Pole? Fourthly, who are your favorite elf and reindeer? Please write back. Love, Tiana."

"Dear Santa Claus, Boy, it's rainy here right now! How are you? Are Mrs. Claus and the reindeer doing well? My family and I are very well, and my puppy's first birthday is coming up soon. If I could have one wish this year, I would like you, Santa, to have a joyous holiday. Love, Sophia."

"Dear Santa, I forgot to tell you I love you. Love, Conner."


Want to be Santa's helper? Thousands of children's letters to the big guy to are waiting for you at the downtown Oakland Post Office.
All you have to do is call the Santa Hotline at 510-622-7420 or stop by the Post Office's Consumer Affairs Division at 201 13th Street, Room 228, in downtown Oakland, and they'll give you as many letters to answer as you want.
You don't necessarily have to enclose a present. "The children appreciate it so much just knowing that someone cares," says Consumer Affairs Director Elma Ramirez. "But if you also want to send a present, that's OK, too."
The need is greater than ever this year because of the recession.
"I've never seen anything like it," says Ramirez. "Lots of children are asking Santa to find a job for their mother or father."
Your reward will be the knowledge that you've made a child's Christmas a little happier. And every once in a while, there's an added plus. Last year, Tracey Haught of Walnut Creek sent a present to a little girl named Angelica, and a few days later she got a call from the shipper saying that Angelica had written Santa a thank-you letter.
That letter is now framed and hanging on Haught's wall. As it happens, Haught's birthday is Christmas Eve. "vest birthday present I ever got," she says.
Finally, if you’d like your own child to receive a letter from Santa, that can also be arranged. Just write a letter to your child, put it in an envelope addressed to your child, and put a stamp on it.
Then stick the envelope inside another one addressed to North Pole Holiday Postmark, Postmaster, 4141 Postmark Dr., Anchorage, AK 99530-9998. (Yes, Santa has his own zip code.)
A special unit at the Anchorage Post Office will stamp your child's letter with a cancellation reading "North Pole" and mail it back.
Merry Christmas!

Two Righteous Men

(Above: Seymour Fromer Below: Chanan Feld)

Berkeley and the entire Bay Area Jewish community lost two of its strongest pillars a few weeks ago.
The first was Seymour Fromer, who died Oct. 25 at age 87. He and his wife Rebecca founded the Judah L. Magnes Museum, which houses the third largest collection of Judaica in the country.
Let me explain how important this is for Jews like me. My friend Paul Ferrari can go back to his grandfather's hometown, Bogotaro, Italy, and meet dozens of distant cousins who look like him. And his whole culture has been preserved in hundreds of churches, cathedrals and family records.
But I can't. There are no long-lost relatives; they were killed in the Holocaust. And the synagogues were burned to the ground and all records of Jewish life and culture systematically destroyed. The Nazis wanted to wipe out any evidence that we had ever existed.
That's why the Magnes Museum is such a Godsend. Each one of its more than 30,000 centuries-old Torahs, arks, manuscripts, Sabbath lamps, artworks, letters, books, photos and other treasures, lovingly collected over the past 50 years, is like spitting in Hitler's eye.
The museum, named after the first native Californian rabbi, began in 1962 in a $75-a-month loft over the Parkway Cinema in Oakland. One month they fell behind in rent. But when the landlord stopped by to collect it, he fell in love with the place and let them stay there for free.
By 1967 their fortunes had improved and the collection had mushroomed. So the museum moved to its present site in a mansion on Russell Street in Berkeley.
Even after he retired in 1998, Fromer could take practically any artifact in the collection and tell you its entire provenance - its history, the year it was donated, and who donated it. He was one of a kind, alas.
Only a few days later, Rabbi Chanan Feld, the coolest mohel in Berkeley, died Oct. 28 from oral cancer. He was only 53.
A mohel is a guy who performs ritual circumcisions, and Rabbi Feld performed thousands in his time. All the parents I've talked to rave about how good he was at it, and how patiently he explained everything beforehand.
Most of all, they emphasize his kindness. It's a quality that struck everybody who ever met him - an ineffable sweetness that made you feel safe and loved, no matter who you were.
The funeral service was held at Congregation Beth Israel in Berkeley, where his wife, Jodie, read a poem he wrote a few days before he died saying how undeserving he felt of any honors and how lucky he was to have so many great things in his life.
Then the whole congregation, more than 300 strong, spilled out in the street and walked behind the hearse as it drove slowly down the block. When it got to the corner they stopped and waved goodbye.
Rabbi Feld's body was flown to Israel, where he was buried on the Mount of Olives. It's a huge honor reserved for only the most righteous - a perfect description of Rabbi Feld.
Seymour Fromer chose the way of the head, Chanan Feld chose the way of the heart, and they both pretty much ended up in the same place - proof that there are many different paths to God.