End-of-Year COBBLER Cheer

Special highlights of the SUPER-newsy end-of-year issue included an update on our bullying workshops, fun with sports and pastry, some quotes about me by my husband, and some quotes BY me in an article ABOUT me.

Then there was another great link to a Moya Stone article about The Souls of Her Feet.

And some sad and silly goodbyes to my dear friend and dog-daughter, the lovely, elegant goofball Maddie Moose Maddyson Maddog von Caven. Or however she spelled it.

A.k.a. Mad-tilda, Madison Square Garden, Madagascar, Madeline Albright Caven.

Walk-Off Pie

I don't know what the A's recipe for a success is this year (I suspect it has to do with math), but I just invented this dessert in honor of the Oakland A's. (There is no math required.)

Ingredients:
One box of Cocoa Crispies
One tub of Reddi-Whip
One handful of peanuts, in shell
1/2 cup butter
1/2 cup peanut butter
Green and yellow sprinkles
One Magic Marker

Using the Magic Marker, edit the tub of Reddi-Whip to read, "Reddick Whip." Edit the Cocoa Crispies to read "Coco Crisps." (We'll just call the butters "batters.")

Shell the peanuts, throw shells on the floor.

In a microwave-safe bowl, mix four cups of the Coco Crisps with the "batters" and peanuts. Press into a pie pan and chill. When stiff, spoon the Reddick Whip into the shell. Sprinkle with sprinkles.

Serve directly to the face.

http://oakland.athletics.mlb.com/oak/fan_forum/wallpaper.jsp

Pumped up Kicks

Good morning, KFOG.
I tried to call in during the song that woke me up this morning, but there was no answer.
"All the other kids better run, better run... faster than my bullet."
This is an upbeat song about a kid shooting other kids. I like the catchy tune, but the song is morally twisted, and not in a good way; it's sociopathic and horrible. There is no frame of reference for the evil sentiment. The songwriter said he was 'exploring the mind of a young killer,' but it sounds more like he's glorifying it. At least with A Clockwork Orange there was some framing of the sentiment of cheerful violence, and a resolution at the end. (And songs like Jeremy, I Don't Like Mondays, etc. at least reflect an authentic emotional tone.) This song says, "it's okay and fun to kill other people! I like it!" It feels like the normalization of a phenomenon that destroys the fabric of American lives over and over again.
On the plus side, a comment made on the YouTube video did tip off Phoenix police that a 14-year-old was inspired by this song, and his rampage was prevented.
I'm a big fan of whimsy, even serious whimsy, but this song really upsets me, and I always turn off the radio when I hear it. But I like KFOG, especially in the mornings, and figured it would be worth the trouble to ask: Could you please not play it anymore? The tune gets stuck in my head for hours, and I hate myself. Maybe ask your other listeners what they think.
Thanks,
Kristen Caven
Oakland parent

Have a Good (Valen)time.

I used to be so tormented by this holiday and all its expectations. Valentine's Day seemed engineered to point out the fact that I was the only one who did not have one. Except I wasn't the only one. My best VDs were days that I hung out with other 'losers'. My friend Dave and I would go out in search of Mr. and Mrs. Right...so we could introduce them to each other. Read more...

Scenes far from D.C.

It was impossible to watch the inauguration aftermath alone. I called my mother-in-law Barbara for a gush-and-elate session. It just made me miss Dave. After watching so many Daily Shows, sharing so many tears, buying our first O'Bama t-shirts and then becoming progressivly involved, impressed, and excited, how could we not share this moment? On impulse I drove down to his school with the burning desire to give him a hug.

I spotted him on the playground as I drove up. It was business as usual for a Tuesday; he was surrounded by kindergartners. He was as far away from the front office as a teacher could be, and with this world-bursting hug building up inside of me, I didn't want to make the trek. I pulled on my parking brake and clambered up the hill to the patched chain link fence. "It's Mrs. Caven," he said in disbelief, and his Simon Says game went to pieces. Twenty little heads turned in my direction; forty little feet drifted away from his sphere of control. Little warm bodies flowed across a small expanse of asphalt towards me, then lined up at the fence, like jetsam caught at a log in a river. Little faces pressed up against the fence, staring into mine, twenty shades of brown and tan. "When I get home from school," says one with bead-bangled braids, "my mama says there's going to be a new president." Dozens and dozens of wide and eyes, innocent of the day's significance behind long, babylike lashes, and open, trusting smiles. "Surprise," I smile, "he's here already." They are not as sliced open with emotion as all the adults I have seen or talked to today. They are just happy to have someone new to look at. Pretty. Shiny. New. But Dave does not seem to mind the awkward distraction.

You can't hug through a chain link fence. Dave and I had to stretch our lips through the metal to touch. Half a dozen little voices went "Eeew."

"Simon Says, back to your spots," Dave calls, a good teacher who understands the tenderness of his tinies. One lingers behind, one with the DNA of Mayan mathematicians showing in the bones of his face. He links his small, warm fingers with mine through the fence, mouth open, gawping happily. "Maybe you'll be president someday," I say, thinking how he will never know a world where color lines are drawn just below the top. His face pulls to one side as he considers what I just said. He clearly thinks I'm insane. "I can't be president! I'm just a little kid," he says. As if the thought of being a grownup had not yet occurred to him.

As I turn away, Dave (Mr. Caven) opens a parachute as colorful as the children around him. What a great metaphor. For what schools should do for kids; for what society should do for its sick, poor, frail and unfortunate; for what we all should do for each other. I wish the world a safe landing from the past eight — and eight hundred years.

(Also read: Ding, Dong, the Witch is Dead)

Ding, Dong, the Witch is Dead

At 9:01 PST, I was sitting in a crowded auditorium full of enthusiastic urban middle-schoolers. The teachers and students had managed to project live feed of the day's events onto a large screen, but all the traffic had crashed the school district's servers, so everyone had to squint to focus on the two old-fashioned (rabbit-ears) televisions that flanked the stage. A giant boom-box broadcasted the NPR feed into the room, but there was a seven-second delay so the sound never matched the pictures. The stage was piled with red, white, and blue balloons, and streamers decorated the giant screen, which showed a slideshow of the Obamas some teacher had thoughtfully created as "plan B."

A voice on the radio, interrupting the lovely musical tribute, mentioned that President Bush's term was officially over, even though inauguration proceedings were behind schedule. The adults near the TV burst into cheers, which soon took over the whole room. Moments before, Joe Biden had been sworn in, and I had naughtily cupped my hands and shouted "No More Cheney!" Moments later, Obama takes the oath of office, and the custodian is out of her chair, dancing like we all feel like dancing. When he says, "pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off..." I am thinking about Fred Astaire and Ginger Rodgers. Before the day is over I will have started a booster club to manage all the volunteers that will soon pour into this school (hopefully).

The principal (scary lady) gets up to tell the students what a significant day this is, and invites them to write a note to send to the president. She tells them about their special history-class assignment to write down all their impressions of the day, which will be collected, copied, laminated, and sent home for them to stick under their mattresses for the rest of their lives. When she announces that second period has been cancelled, the crowd really goes wild. That's even better news, for them, than a new clear-headed, idealistic, and--did anyone notice?--African American president. When she tells them they still have to go to third period, the boos and hand gestures of the mini-mob scene are even louder.

We've come a long way, America... but we've still got a long way to go.

Celebration Frappuccino

Donald, establishing his pre-teen lifestyle, has begun frequenting Starbucks. No, he's not drinking coffee, thank goodness; Starbucks has invented a modern milkshake for the next generation. A Double Chocolaty Chip Frappuccino® Blended Crème is basically a bunch of ice blended up with milk and a bar of dark chocolate, served with whipped cream on top.

Yesterday when we heard Starbucks was giving away drinks if you could prove you voted, Donald asked if he could come vote with me and then get a treat afterward. Turned out that was illegal, so they took it back. Nonetheless, I told Donald I'd buy him a Frappuccino if Obama won. He followed me right to my polling booth and watched me complete the little arrows. He wore his "I Voted" sticker proudly all day long.

Today his friend Willie magically showed up at Starbucks. In the past, Willie's dad had popped for treats, so I got one for Willie, too. I told him, "you know, this is a victory Frappuccino... we're celebrating Barack Obama today."

I've been giddy all day, and suddenly it struck me funny: "He's our first chocolate president," I said.

Willie cocked his blonde head, his overgrown mohawk flopping to one side, and asked me, "Is that racist?"

I appreciated his sensitivity. But I wondered: do little words like this still matter? What would Will.i.am, the world's first holographic pop star, say?

A Great Day for the Dimond! (and me!)

A memorable day about family and community.

Dave was the Emcee,
Kristen performed the opening act with members of Donald's class.

Nancy Peterson la Guitarrista!

Mr. Nichols performed "Oakland Roads," written by students.
Student performers included
Dagmawi, Simone, Larisa, Nomi, Kenny and Johnathan.

The store is gorgeous~food delicious & healthy~a turning point for our neighborhood.

Good job everyone! Congrats Joe & Diane Tam... and the whole neighborhood! Thanks to all who made it happen.

WHAT A HOOT!