A Lot in Long Beach

I mean a lot, as in real estate. Luis and I are at home 99% of the time during this pandemic going on four months. Sometimes we are involved in our individual projects. Other times, we cook together or watch TV together. We binged on eight years of Game of Thrones and still have time on our hands. We rarely venture beyond the sidewalk in front of our house and the wall in the backyard. Today was an anomaly when we actually visited briefly with Drew our next-door neighbor when he was gardening in his front yard and Luis and I were looking at our flowerbeds and assessing the next project. We kept our distance, literally, and kept the chit chat to a minimum before we all scurried inside.

Within our lot is our house. We’ve tackled sorting closets (saying goodbye to clothes that don’t fit), cleaning out shelves in the garage (and finding our sons’ childhood treasures). A few weeks ago I bought a KitchenAid mixer and have begun to learn to make bread, cookies and tortillas. Luis is busy improving his photo processing skills on his computer. He reads in his study. I read in bed. Then he reads in the living room and I read in my workroom. In the dining room I continue to assemble a difficult puzzle Lorenzo brought from Thailand. I speak daily by phone with both my sisters and almost as frequently with my mom. I try to make at least one call a day to a friend. Sometimes Luis and I sojourn all the way to the living room. When the sun goes down we take a vacation to the back patio or I use the bright sunlight streaming in the dining room windows to see details of the puzzle.

Our house is small and has it’s charm and it’s neglected projects. We had one of my ex-students who’se now a construction worker, come over and fix the bathroom tile and install an Arts and Crafts style light in the TV room. I found an indestructible Kirby vacuum cleaner with a shampooing kit. So, you guessed it, I shampooed the rug! Luis is using power tools with abandon. He cleaned the threshold (!) of the front door. Then he noticed it needed sanding. Then he noticed it really needed to be restained, then sealed. It’s like the children’s book If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.

On the occasions when we go out, it’s with a mask on and without getting close to anyone. Yesterday was curbside delivery day at the grocery store. I had placed the order two days before and we arrived at Ralph’s which, believe it or not, was a big enough event that it was on my calendar. Truthfully, it was the only thing on my calendar. But Luis had something of note, he had a dental cleaning. Now that they x-rays him, he know why his mouth was hurting: he has a fractured tooth which requires a specialist and affidavits saying he hasn’t been in contact with anyone with Covid and he has no symptoms.

What’s been lost & what’s been rediscovered

Isolation is hard. I get bored. I have lost physical contact with friends that I used to see daily at work. I haven’t met anyone for a glass of wine or a walk through the park. I haven’t gone to visit my mom or sisters in Arizona. We haven’t explored hiking trails or gone to visit our sons. We haven’t gone to a restaurant or on date night. We rarely go to the grocery story and never go to the mall or the movies. Hair cuts, pedicures, chiropractor appointments are a thing of the past. The regular distribution of hygiene kits and lunches to the homeless through St. Joseph’s church are a thing of the past. Our cruise in June to Alaska with my sister Tina and my cousin’s family was cancelled (that was the first cancellation). But it’s okay, given the Pandemic.

I’m so glad we’ve traveled extensively in the past few years. The memories sustain our days and bring us joy. Last spring we went to the Middle East and explored Petra, Egyptian pyramids and a Cairo bazaar with my brother Dionicio and his wife Stephanie. The year before we visited Miguel in Germany with a detour to France and Spain. And a year before we went to Italy and relished a week in Florence and a driving venture in the Tuscan countryside. And the summer of 2016 the two of us went to Hawaii followed by a couples trip to San Miguel Allende, Mexico, with the Castros and Jones. We had 5 years between Luis’s last tough bout with lung cancer and the Covid pandemic and we have crammed in as much hand-holding adventuring as we’ve been able to given my work schedule. We are happy to have explored together.

Deals abound today as airlines slash fares to attract travelers. Oh, I miss traveling. Yet we can’t take advantage as the risks are high for everyone. And remember, many counties won’t let us visit because Americans are stupid and would rather “open the economy” to get haircut while they spread Covid. But the risks are especially high for Luis. His triumph over lung cancer (TWICE!) means the doctors removed two whole lung lobes — twelve years apart. That’s a pre-existing condition if I ever heard of one. And Covid is deadly in high rates for older people and people with pre-existing conditions. Check. And check.

We don’t have cure. We don’t have antigens. No immunity. No proven treatments. We are in a pandemic and we don’t know the answers. We don’t know how this will end.

So the list is long as to what we’ve lost and what we don’t know. But we are rich in the things we’ve found. Primarily, we are together and enjoy each other’s company. Luis and I visit like we are newlyweds. We talk about things that are important and things that aren’t. I sense a return to fundamentals. We share each other’s fear of this virus and we share love. We are fortunate to have Luis’s retirement income and during the school year, I have my income. We have love and we have each other. Today that is all I need. We look forward to simply things like watching a movie together, enjoying a bottle of good Zinfandel, hearing from our boys and new daughter-in-law, friends and family. We go to bed tired and wake up to new statistics of the virus and, still we have hope for a cure and normalization of life. Meanwhile, our normal is within our house.

Context

We are four months into the stay at home order because of the Covid pandemic. Life for me and everyone I know (and don’t know) has changed so much. Back in March the US started to realized that no wall on the Southern border or withdrawal from international trade associations could prevent us from being global citizens at-risk for the same virus as the rest of the word. I was sent home along with all other staff at school and every student for a couple of weeks, which got extented and extended again and again.

The shock of shutdown has softened. The fight against the spread has devolved into asinine political camps. Trumps calls to open the economy (as much as I wish we could) resulted in a spike of the virus. So today’s numbers are ridiculously high a and death rates, concealed from families who can’t be with dying family members and from the inability to gather for funerals, but also because Trump wants to keep the numbers down. We are banned from traveling to Europe. As yesterday’s reported deaths in the US, 3,882,000 cases and 141,677 deaths. We surpassed all other countries in every metric, including stubborn-headed refusal to wear a mask, ostrich-like beliefs, and short-sighted desires to “get the economy running.” All the while each of the statics represents real people who’ve died and there is no economy that will help them or their families.

Late last week, the California Governor announced that schools in counties with high infection, death and transmission rates will not open in the fall for face to face learning. Thirty-two counties out of 50, including Los Angeles, have such high rates that we can’t risk the return to schools. I have no idea what my job will be like in just six weeks. But I have a job so any assignment will work out.

I have to go now. There is another meal to make and another closet to clean out.

 

Twenty-one days ago my employer, Long Beach Unified School District did the unthinkable and sent home all 70,000 students and every teacher for a “five weeks” until this Corona Virus could get under control and the rooms could be sanitized. Then the district extended the school closure while all the teacher avidly exploring how to teach from home. Just this week, the district announced the closure of schools for the rest of the year. We are still asked to educate students, quickly learn new digital platforms to educate students and assure all students have technology at home and that they can use it. It’s the same story in every school district in California and in other states. Basically, we are asked to do what’s never been done and do it at scale, with a smile and staying indoors for months.

I have been making phone calls to English Learners to check in on them and to guide them to login to their virtual classrooms. Many of them are scared and look to me and any adult for answers, answers that by and large we don’t have. Some of the students I know have worked diligently to learn English and do well in their classes and all they want is to dance at prom, walk the stage at graduation ceremony or do anything normal. On several occasions, I left my authority and calm demeanor as I hung up the phone and realize the hot thing on my cheek is a shared heartbreak overflowing from my heart out my eyes. I feel distressed that I can’t help them and my only words of comfort are to stay inside and wash your hand.

Many are afraid. Surreal scenes surround us. Streets and freeways are empty. Shops, movie theaters, salons, restaurants, everything is closed. Last week the County Board of Supervisors urged southern Californians to stay home except for grocery shopping, trips to the doctor and outdoor exercise. The exercise exception is gone now and beaches, trail heads and parks are now closed as well.

The statistics are mind boggling. Italy and Spain report the most number of deaths today, more than 14,000 and 11,000, respectively. Every country has cases and everywhere people will die from respiratory failure. Our medical infrastructure is not equipped. Our medical professionals don’t have the protective equipment to stay uninfected. Our national politicians deliver inconsistent messages. Our president prioritizes the stock market and his billionaire buddies.

Meanwhile, over 10 million Americans were put out of work in the last two weeks. That number is astronomical. My favorite brother and sister-in-law work in hospitality and they have seniority and have very comfortable lives. But the Colorado resort ski-town they live in shut down. Literally closed. Every hotel and restaurant closed and they asked every tourist leave. The town is open only to residents. My brother and sister-in-law are precarious as are all the people thrown out of work for no fault of their own.

I’m lucky enough to work from home, supporting teachers and students learning English. I’m working harder and longer that I ever did going to campus. I’m unsure of what and how I’m to do my job. It’s one day at a time. And today the statistics aren’t complete. As of yesterday, more than 59,000 have died. So it’s a good day to be alive, hunkering down with the love of my life.

More than a week ago, they closed the schools in Long Beach. All teachers, all staff,  and all students were sent home to work. I don’t know how to support students and teachers without being at school. But I will figure it out. As a teacher on special assignment  (TOSA), I will have to learn how to support teachers and students who don’t speak English while school is closed to slow the spread of the pandemic.

A few things to note since the closing of campuses across Long Beach, across the state and the nation, in fact, across the world. Long Beach Unified is feeding students but not many are coming to the sites to pick up lunches or breakfasts. Come on guys, we can feed you! We can provide computers, too. Even the local internet provider can give free wifi to students

What’s difficult is the social aspect of life. I’m cooped up. The extended family is cooped up. Our students are stuck inside. People are either laid off, furloughed, or working from home. It’s a strange new world. All while a medical crisis is imminent. Since Friday, March 20, California has been under a Stay at Home order except for going to the grocery store or the bank or outside for a simple walk around the park. As an extrovert, I’m incredibly sad at the lack of interaction, real interactions. 

Our son and daughter-in-law, Lorenzo and Arevik,  came by today and stood outside the front door. They brought us toilet paper and produce. I gave them a baguette and a bottle of wine. I cried when they left because I couldn’t give them each a hug and a kiss. All I have to say is this is hard. So challenging. And if they medical experts are right, it’s life or death.

More than 600 people died of the Corona Virus yesterday. That’s in only one day. This is serious and we don’t know how it will play out. The new reality is connecting through the internet and by cell phone.

Learning English and Churchill Downs . . . . these two do often get thought of together on Kentucky Derby weekend. In the world of  the fastest horses around, mint juleps, and floppy hats, the language development needs of many of the jockeys and their families is often overlooked. As I watch the gorgeous athletic animals on TV this Saturday, a day before the famous Kentucky Derby at Churchill Downs, I recall a special tour I went on years ago. 

As Principal of Starr King Elementary School, I was leading a a team to develop a Family Literacy program at our Long Beach, California school. The National Center for Family Literacy was (and still is) home-based in Louisville, Kentucky. So we started our journey in the South.

Touring Churchill Downs

We saw the paddocks, the museum and of course the track . . . all the things that we see in the media about the iconic race that brings in millions of viewer and probably as much in wagers. What struck me was the need for English language development for both the jockeys and their families. This issue is often unrecognized in the world of fast horses, owners, trainers, millionaires, betters, politicians, and celebrities.

A jockey is as finely tuned instrument of the race and for those racing moments on the track, their language fluency isn’t what they are there for. Many of the jockeys are from Spanish-speaking countries and some have only minimal English skills. Those jockeys who have families with them here, have the added complication of trying to support their children in schools that function entirely in English.

A Real Wager

Here’s the deal: the language and academic needs of  Spanish-speaking jockeys and the challenges for their families, are indicative of silent race all of our school children who are English Learners and their families run. They are trying to learn the content and all that is involved in formal scholarship while learning English language and figuring out of the hidden rules of school culture.

A Race to Compete in Schools . . . in a second language

English Learners are tasked with learning like their peers when they don’t have the academic language fluency of those peers. Yet, we as a society expect them to sink or swim because “my grandparents didn’t get any help so why should they?” Today’s English Learners are faced with stringent content standards and a mirage of demands that immigrants from generations past didn’t have to encounter. And expectations of family involvement assume parents of English Learners understand the unspoken rules of public education. They may  find it challenging to do the most basic of American family life, things like having a conversation with the teacher at a parent conference or understand the demands of content standards their children are expected to master at the same rate as a native English speaker.

A family literacy program was established years ago at Churchill Downs to help jockeys learn English as a Second Language, learn about the classroom expectations their children face and learn some of the silent rules about interaction with school staff.

Something to Toast

Wouldn’t it be noteworthy if one weekend, all the celebrities and dignitaries, all the news outlets, and the public’s attention were focused on English Learners? How awesome if we matched the same amount of attention and money, the same enthusiasm that goes into purchasing, tending, grooming, breeding, and training the beautiful horses, and poured that into the education of our English Learners. I’d raise a mint julep or a whiskey sour to toast that. Wait. I don’t drink either. Still, that attention to our students’ language needs, though Improbable, would be a  Game Winner.

The ancient ruins seem to embrace the modern aspects of 21st century Jordan, or maybe it’s the other way around. Either way, this country is friendly and welcoming. On top of that Jordan is both Western and Middle Eastern. Amman easily blend modern banks, highrise hotels and and sweet shops, modern traffic and ancient ruins in the hilly city.

Getting here was tricky. Luis and I were delayed in New York by more then a day. Our flight out of LAX was super late so we missed the Royal Jordanian non-stop connection. Instead we were rebooked a whole day later on Qatar Air changing planes in Doha. I am so ignorant about countries and cities in the Middle East that I didn’t know where Doho is in relation to Amman. I learned real fast. Anyway, we were impressed with both the airline and the airport. My first impression was that many people behave like the rules such as staying seated in the plane until you reach the gate) don’t apply to them. It was fascinating to see the different versions of Arab men’s clothes and head scarves. I wanted to take pictures but felt it might be misinterpreted. Besides, I just wanted to get to Jordan as Luis and I were lacking sleep and our traveling time to Amman was a day and a half longer than expected.

Finally we met up with my brother Dionicio and my sister in law Stephanie and a family friend Wendle. We hit the ground running and went to gape at the old Roman theater. There was also a smaller theater. The big theater was is still used for concerts and had phenomenal views of the opposing hill which has the ruins of temples of the old citidel. The only things remaining of a gigantic sculpture were the hand and a little elbow. The rest of the marble must be repurposed for the Amman homes over the centuries.

The weather was cool and it sprinkled on us but not enough to hamper our scrambling up the steep stairs of the theater.

The next day in Jerash, a town to the north of Amman, was even more impressive. The city’s archeological finds cover an expansive area and there is so much. The city of Jerash flourished over many centuries, through different religions and styles and periods and it shows in the gorgeous ruins.

In Jerash as elsewhere, Dio would play a simple game of asking our Jordanian hosts to guess where we are from.

In the souvenier shop at Jerash, the clerk insisted Dio was Syrian, another thought he was Palestinian, yet another thought he was Lebanese.

If I didn’t betray my American accent, the same people thought I was any nationality from Italian to Brazilian. As soon as we put on the scarves to keep warm — by halfway through our day in Jerash it POURED cold rain — the local people were really perplexed about what our race and ethnicity is.

Back to seeing Jerash….

There were colonnades and streets straighter than modern engineers can make.

The remains of shop stalls, a hippodrome, Bizantium baths, Temples to Zeus from the Greeks, another two or three theaters, apartments complexes with mosaic floors.

Breath-taking! But cold and wet. Until the clouds scuttled across the sky leaving brilliant cyan blue skies and sparkling puddles reflecting the clean columns.

I can’t express how full I feel learning about the welcoming Jordanian people. Later I will post about my tea with Bedouin women in Petra. Until then… Rosana

(This little post stayed parked in my “drafts” until today when I stumbled upon it. I wrote it originally when sitting on the plane flying back to the US. No wifi on the plane so I ended up posting this months later.)

Luis and I wrapped up our last days in Europe and muddled through 2 days of transit to get back home. The last day in Germany included an attempt to make a Mexican dinner at Miguel’s using items from the local Reve grocery store.

Incredible sadness washed over me as we cleared out of Miguel’s apartment the next morning. Luis encouraged me to focus on the packing and traveling by telling me I shouldn’t cry till we were on the train to Paris. So I packed in silence, afraid that I would sob and wouldn’t be able to finish packing. At last, we boarded the high speed train. I swallowed big gulps of mixed emotions, happy that Miguel was finding his way in his career and sad about the distance that separates us.

Once we arrived in Paris, we went by taxi to a clean, literacy-themed hotel in Montmartre. We made our way to the Sacre Cour through streets full of loud and bustling tourists. Finally we found a small bistrot that played Aretha Franklin music. At that point I cried. It was for the passing of Aretha, the love that Parisians have for her music, for our departure from Miguel, and for the realization this might be the last whirlwind, grinding vacation. My heart was full and just overflowed out of my eyes.

Morning came we hustled out of the room to walk for a last stroll in Paris. We wound our way through a city still asleep, found the Moulin Rouge and several other moulins and then stumbled upon the Montmarte Cemetery tucked under expressway overpasses. What a sight, both happy and somber, historic and modern. A little like aspects of our trip.

Finally, off the the airport and the beginning of more hours of travel. We will arrive home to the realities of starting the school year in just a couple of days.

Seems like a common or prosaic start to a new year. And then I realized the everyday events really are the “good old days”. We started off 2019 with our sons, Lorenzo and Miguel and Arevik, our wonderful, soon-to-be daughter-in-law. (Gee, that’s a lot of hyphens so from now on it’s just our daughter Arevik.)

We joined Arevik’s family for New Years at the Stepanyan’s in North Hollywood. They are the warmest and most loving family! Armen and Laura, their son Hayk, his finacé Yulia, and the cousins, Alina, Mary and Mark. This is not our first time together for a major holiday. Instead it adds to the times we’ve shared and portends a strong relationship and bonding of the families. They remind me of our crazy, entwined Mexican family, with the addition of speaking Armenian and Russian. I better get going on learning some Armenian at the very least.

Later in the month we celebrated Luis’s 71st birthday going to an escape room. Paradoxically, it was so much fun and not at all the stressful experience I expected. Once again, I’m made aware that being open to something new can be a good thing.

We were saddened with the passing of a very nice man we were privileged to have connected to our family. JD Jones, my sister Diana’s father-in-law. He was a nice guy. Can I say that again? He was simply a very nice, decent person and my heart goes out to my brother-in-law Tim and Diana for their loss. Really, it was everyone’s loss. All in all, JD was in his 90s and we were happy he touched our lives. I got to see my mom and sisters and brother’s in law, Leonard and Tim, plus the nieces and nephews, cousins and tias.

In another gift that JD brought us, I was able to reconnect with high school friends at the funeral. My dear friends whom I’d fallen out of touch with, became Diana’s friends and they were at the funeral and reception. I can’t describe how happy I was to visit with Lee and Patty. This reunion was unforeseen and something that I had longed for. But after a decade goes by, and then another and then another without being in touch with Mary Lee (Quintero) Pritchard or Patty (Rosas) Corral, I just didn’t know where or how to restart our friendship. Or even if they wanted to. At the funeral, we picked up where we left off. Now have plans to gather in Long Beach this summer. Thank you, JD, for bringing us in this unlikely setting together!

 

On the heels of the funeral, Luis and I took off to the Monterrey Peninsula in Northern California. Just the two of us in a nice road trip. We skirted the edge of a nasty storm and enjoyed seeing moody weather, mostly from a distance. Luis said it makes for nice photos and I believe him after seeing some of his photos. They’ll be available after he downloads them. That’s be another post if I’m lucky. Meanwhile, here’s one from my little phone.

I wasn’t prepared for the magnitude of the wine growing region around Stuttgart. We’ve seen vineyards in Sonoma, Napa, even in Arizona near Sonoita. But here, there is mountain after mountain after mountain carpeted with vineyards as far as the eye can see.

Miguel drove us through the cobblestoned roads to find Collegium Wirtemberg winery where we enjoyed an break from wanderings earlier in the day.

What a fulfilling afternoon sitting in the shade of the winery’s back deck, watching a big bumblebee, sipping some trollinger wine and just visiting!

Earlier in the day we ventured out to the tiny town of Esslinger, which was left pretty intact during the War. The churches (and there are many) and the old homes, even the ramparts are beyond gorgeous.

We entered two, side by side churches, St. Dyonisius (yeah, Dio!) and the adjacent St. Paul church and monastery from the 1200s.

They are great examples of the work from so many centuries ago.

Just outside the churches is the city wall, I think. Sure looked like it.

Within the city walls are ancient homes used today for residences and businesses. The Neckar river runs through the town and the whole thing looks like a fairy tale. We walked around St. Dyonisius and found our way on a wine trail.

Speaking of walking and trails and churches, I couldn’t help but notice a sign giving directions for walking El Camino to Santiago de Compostela. Tina and Diana you are with me!

Time to go to the grocery store to see if there is any way to cook up Mexican food for dinner. This is our last night with Miguel. Tomorrow is a travel day to Paris for an overnight stay and then a flight home. I miss my Serta… or rather my Tuft and Needle!

~Rosana

The vestiges of WWII are present and real in Germany. High schoolers in the US only read about something remote and unthinkable. Here in Germany, like in France where Luis and I were just 2 days ago, the reminders are everywhere.

I went to Mass this morning in Stuttgart city center in a very modern, polished marble Catholic St. Eberhard church. Though I didn’t understand the language, I knew the rhythm of Mass and could discern the building design was from the 1950s. The church from the 1800 was bombed by the Allies to smithereens.

Luis, our son, Miguel, and I took the Sunday afternoon to visit the Mercedes Benz museum. What a phenomenal, world class museum both in design as well as content. I felt pride that my baby has found a place in this world as an engineer.

His work for MB is with the racing division AMG and the assignment is only through next February.

Through the documentation of the company as well as the social and political context for the company, we learned the interwoven aspects of the car maker and transportation and world events. This was both sobering as well as intriguing.

After a quick snack in the inexpensive (surprise!) snack bar, we meandered through the decidedly not inexpensive gift store.

Afterwards we hiked up a mountain in the beautiful suburbs of Stuttgart finding ourselves at a lookout over the valleys.

We use our various phones and signage to teach us that the whole mountain we climbed up was made of the rubble from the decimated city.

After a day like today, I am reminded about how world politics, culture, religion and industry are tied together not just in the past but today. Our current president is busy bashing the German president and other friends and I wonder where it will end.

Enough of my criticism of Trump, because it will not end. Instead on to say that I have found the Germans I’ve interacted with accommodating that I don’t speak German and helpful if I ask for it. Stuttgart seems to have a very young population with many international people here for work, just like Miguel. Weaving together the events of the day: I pray for peace and international cooperation and a healing of the damage of wars past.

~Rosana