Barbara's Away Game
8/29/2012
I am gone…
Drunk Driving, Your Reverence
I already mentioned that I am in the meantime familiarized with the local news. Actually it’s more than that, I love them. They set the priorities by the interest of the crowd and not by the importance for the world.
However, I watch them almost every evening, just listening with one ear and understanding still not everything. It’s enough to keep an overview.
Isaac at the gates of New Orleans, the Republicans defied him in Tampa, where Romney’s wife Ann took stage at the GOP Convention and she was acting like the new first lady. The new nominated Archbishop of San Francisco was taken into custody due to drunk driving. He apologized in public on Monday; he is human and so he is not perfect and made a big mistake. The church has the same view and proclaimed that he will take the new position as archbishop on October 4th.
Honestly I don’t care how the Catholic Church handles their non-perfect bishops, I am more concerned about Isaac and the Republicans.
Nevertheless it’s the bishop I write about:
I wonder why such news seems so very important?
In these days Nobbi is in Malaysia and sent me this picture, he took from the newspaper in Penang:
Picture: Thank Nobbi!
Even in Asia the scandal makes his circle.
Mrs Käßmann, what do you think?
Mrs Käßmann was a German Bishop of the Evangelic-Lutherans Church in Germany 2010 and president of the EKD (Evangelic Church of Germany) She gave up to be bishop and leader of the EKD, because she was stopped in a car drunk driving.
Back then I thought: Wow, respect! Nobody asked her to do this, but she did. Every human makes mistakes, yes, but you have to take responsibility and you have to take your consequences, depending on your duty.
Former Federal President of Germany M. Wulff showed us that there are other possibilities. But it’s just a question of time. It wasn’t the alcohol but mistakes, huge mistakes, he lied, he denied and he tried not to be responsible and not to take the consequences. Just a question of time! But then one day you have to go and you loose every respect from everybody!
I read in the Huffington Post Online that other bishops were caught drunk driving and they only resigned if there were other crimes or deep alcohol-problems.
I don’t want to judge here in public, I just wonder about the public interest in the world at the local news.
Here are my greetings to Malaysia, to everyone who read this: be careful and don’t drive buzzed, especially here in America. I want to finish this weird article with the bible words:
John 8:7: Let anyone of you that is without sin be the first who throw a stone...
9/2/2012
I am gone…
We Drove Them All
...or Nobbi’s weird hobby!
One day I just stopped writing about our cars and Nobbi’s motorcycles.
I felt awkward!
It’s obvious that we live here a life that’s not ours. We live in a huge house, in a gorgeous area and we enjoy. You could almost become accustomed with it, if there wouldn’t ... argh - doesn’t matter!
Sometimes I think we live a couple of shoe sizes too big.
Especially I come up with these ideas when Nobbi takes care of his hobby. Busy readers know what I mean: Buying cars!
An old German column, it doesn’t exist a translation, ends with the sentence:
“It’s not the vehicle we need to drive, it’s just the feeling we need to be free and happy here in America.”
A beautiful sentence but I was never really committed to it. I grant Nobbi his hobby, but I can’t let him without making jokes about it, nagging when he makes a “shopping trip” and grumbling when he goes for it.
In this column I ignore the bikes. The garage is jam-packed. I lost the overview. I will concentrate today on the 4-wheeled motor pool in the light of the recent events.
The first three cars satisfied our basic needs. The Honda Odyssey serves as family car and dog chaise. It’s my car. The Mini was the cool car for the kids, t’was the school bus driven by Samuel. The Mercedes 450 SL, called Megan, was the Grand Dame of our cars, a convertible for the lover of old vehicles. The Mini became the enfant terrible; he needed already in his first year an expensive repair, because the clutch broke down.
Megan, white beauty, just slightly younger than me, developed soon symptoms of old age as pretty high oil needs and odd kinks as “dead engine anyway”, just to earn a little bit attention. Well, Nobbi gave her a chance. He petted her a bit, whereupon she started again but began drinking. From now on she wanted every 6 miles one whole gallon of fuel. However, she lost her winsomeness and was deported in the garage, where henceforth chipmunks used her as acorns-reservoir.
Shortly before Moritz got his driving license the Mini left us a second time. Broken engine – shit happens!
Now we had only one car left, four driving licenses, the valley is wide and the ways are far.
Nobbi was allowed to go for car-hunt, with my OK and Moritz’ help. Time was running, because one car on the top of our hill was really too little.
They were successful. They bought even two cars at one weekend. Both were English-green, the BMW was for Moritz, the Mercedes for Nobbi.
They are all old vehicles but they work well, so well that the Mercedes earned this summer the title of “Mr Reliable” while he has taken Moni and Oli more than 1000 miles to and through the desert. He never failed.
The decision to give the Mini an exchange-engine was a pure gut decision of the responsible men. I believe in gut decisions and so the beloved car confirmed the title enfant terrible. Better we leave a cost-value-record and we also shouldn’t discuss the question if it was a mistake. He’s still stubborn.
The car pool is huge, quite sufficing, but there were still some open childhood dreams.
Boys!!! I don’t need to say one word more!
I’ll spare you my reaction and don’t want to go in depth. Just: I think it’s absolutely not needed! The boys are happy with the new toy. I don’t believe in the criterion of good investment. That’s nonsense!
Decadence or madness... or do we have a compensation issue?
Nobbi, other men are playing golf..., yes, that’s maybe too time-consuming, a little bit boring and not entirely your style. I see!
Well, we live here not for the eternity; we want to enjoy the time we have. OK, that was the deal!
Now the first vehicle left the car pool, cause the driver is going to leave us on Wednesday. Moritz goes back to Germany. Here he doesn’t need a car anymore.
The BMW is gone.
The goodbye-ceremony was a funny car-tetris game in our yard. Best wishes from here to Malaysia, Nobbi couldn’t participate.
Moritz, I hope you had enjoyed having an own car as driving-license-newcomer. In Germany the reality is waiting: busses and trains, long board and bicycle. The environment will appreciate.
6 cars, we drove them all. It’s time to say good bye. The BMW is gone!
9/5/2012
I am gone…
Aachen is not America, once again...
to Moritz
Aachen is not America! It’s not really a saying in Germany, but it became a saying for me.
As Nobbi 1986 moved to Aachen to study physics at the university, I was very upset. After one and a half year weekend-relationship (due to his soldier time) to the greatest guy between Flensburg and Munich, no, in the entire northern hemisphere, I hoped he’s going to study in Cologne near my parents home, where I still lived in these days. I was so in love and just hoped we could see us more than two days a week.
Nobbi decided to study in Aachen, just an hour apart from Cologne, but I was 19, still in school, and one hour is a long journey for impatient young girls.
Nobbi’s mother called me, she said I shouldn’t make it so hard for her son and anyway: Aachen is not America!
I was a little bit dazed and took this message more as a threat than comfort.
The consequence was that I moved 1988 also to Aachen, where I took roots as well and became happy. So happy, that I never wanted to leave my new hometown again. Well, we did, 24 years later. We left Aachen to go to America! Coincidence or kismet? I don’t know. I only know that the phrase “Aachen is not America” came true. So true!
Just a side note: It’s not a secret, if I could choose; I would go back better now than tomorrow.
Aachen is not America!
So true! Yesterday I brought Moritz to the airport. He carried two huge bags and a backpack as luggage, all in all 100lb/ 45kg. That’s everything, the goods and chattels with which he has left his home, not like other young-adventurers to go in the huge wide world looking for freedom and the unknown, no, back in the city which his parents’ house left to go in the huge wide world. Moritz is going to study mathematics in Aachen.
Picture: Thank Simon!
Back from America to Aachen.
Moritz checked in at the frequent flyer counter without annoying waiting line but with stunning professionalism and coolness. I stood beside and was waiting for the last hug. First I was smiling and happy. “Goal reached!” I thought; the first son has left the home.
Please understand me in the right way. It was not my goal having the son out of the house, no! But it should be the goal of parents to release autonomous people happily in their own life.
So I did yesterday, with trust and certitude and even a little bit proudness. Yes, nevertheless I lost my frame shortly while I said “good bye”, but already in Half Moon Bay I won it back. After the airport I drove with pretty loud music to the beach; first of all it’s on the way home and second it helps celebrating moods.
Besides we will see us soon again. In two weeks I’ll be in Germany and will bring him one more bag and then, shortly later, it’s already Christmas.
Moritz, I hope you will enjoy your new life. Freedom, adventure and self-responsibility! Take care!
9/10/2012
I am gone…
Power Outage
to Erik
Since I live in the USA I’m always looking for clichés. I love clichés! I’m happy about each I find to confirm it, but I’m happy either if I can rebut one as prejudice.
On the confirmation that power outages are typical American I’d rather have renounced and so far we were really lucky. Although there were strong winter storms which triggered outages in the neighborhood and other reasoned huge blackouts in July and August in Los Gatos we had power without a gap all the time. One exception; from time to time the microwave blows out the fuse. After that happened the first time we finally know where the fuses are, namely not only in the garage but also out of the house. We have three fuse boxes, now we got it!
But just because it never has happened it doesn’t mean that it isn’t possible. Friday noon the power was dead. The fridge didn’t make a sound anymore, the printer stopped printing and the Internet wasn’t working either. Sure, there was no light, but it was noon so this didn’t matter. We checked the fuse boxes, but here wasn’t the problem. It was a bigger blackout.
Nobbi was randomly at home. He made between Malaysia and Lake Tahoe a half-day break at home. (Why Tahoe I will tell you in the next column!) He logged in at the PG&E-site with his pretty smart phone. It still had Internet. There was a power outage described at Shannon Road, a technician troop was on its way.
We now have one and a half year this smart meter at the house. It should help to save energy and money and Nobbi has the theory that it reports automatically blackouts. If that is true, I don’t know, but it was relief to know that help is on its way. After three hours we had the power back, the fridge was luckily still cold, but above all I finally was able to go in the Internet again.
I was happy that we got off cheaply. I heard much more worse. That I can cut “power outage in the USA” from my imaginary “things that need to be experienced in the USA”-list make me happy on top of that.
I posted it on Facebook, to write a column about that it was not enough spectacular.
Nobbi drove in the Sierra and I was prepared for a calm weekend.
Sunday morning, I was still in bed but already in the internet (all the handy small web-enabled devices allow us already before the get up to connect with the world, amazing!) I heard a big boom.
The bang was similar to a fuse blow, unless much stronger. Power was dead! OK, I thought: “Morning! Get up to circle the fuse boxes round!” Somehow I walked to the power pole, it was the direction from which I heard the boom. I saw my neighbor on his deck, looking on even this pole. He had no power as well.
Once again! This time category two, because I still had no coffee in the morning. Friday I had some in the Thermos bottle, what lightened the affair. Now, at eight thirty on Sunday I didn’t have coffee and I was not able to make some.
“Well, then I take a shower to get awake, who knows how long the water will be warm?” I forgot that the water pump needs power to bring the water inside. Means; I was still able to wash the shampoo out of my hair but then the source run dry. “Oh man! I desperately need coffee!!!”
I planned a walk with the dogs to Starbucks, because the gate needs power too. On Friday Nobbi was able to open it, but I was too weak, no chance! I was trapped. The thought to walk half an hour without a square breakfast (who knows me well knows that these are only two cups of coffee, not more, but they are important for me to survive) was terrifying.
I had a better idea: camping stove, can water and push pot, everything all right! (greetings to the Hellwig-sisters, I love the push pot)
The search of the utensils, stove and denatured alcohol, needs almost the same time as walking to Starbucks but I didn’t know it before.
While I was sitting in the sun, drinking my truly earned coffee I heard the PG&E truck. Yeaaaaaahhh! I welcomed the technician with the words: “Hope you’ll be my Sunday morning hero!” He laughed and introduced himself as Erik, with K, his mother was quarter Swedish, a bit Russian and somehow German, she insisted on the K.
That promised to become yet again a nice Sunday. Small talk on our way to the pole, short embrace what he told me: “Presumable it was a squirrel, a big bang without a storm, ‘t was certainly a squirrel, maybe we’ll find it. On Friday that was something huge. Not a squirrel, a blackout from Hicks Road up all the way,...definitely not a squirrel.”
I asked him if he allows that I shoot some pictures and film a bit. I told him I want to write about it. From here on it was also for him a nice Sunday. Finally somebody who’s interest in his work and appreciates all the effort. We are now best friends!
He complained a little bit about all the trees, which make the work so hard, but he comprehends that you can’t cut down every tree. The people like trees. Putting all power lines under ground would be too expensive!
I’m really sorry I missed the final, suddenly I heard the fridge buzzing again and I knew: Erik did it!
Watch this:
International Geograffities
Power Outage
We were three hours without power. Erik fixed the fuse with a wire. We didn’t find the roasted squirrel, but Lissy scorned her breakfast. If there is any connection I don’t know, but I really can imagine.
As I told Erik that I only hear complaints about PG&E and I now made a complete different experience, he grinned and said:
“We try our best!“ “Sure! I saw it with my own eyes! You are my Sunday Morning Hero!”
10/1/2012
I am gone…
Drifting Away
When we flip through a photo album we see not exactly the reality, we see more or less the random collection of moments out of a reality.
If you are skillful you can bend it, stretch it or set up emphases. But in every single picture remains a short moment of truth.
I’m quite sure that longing sentimental movies in regional settings (in German: HEIMAT-Film, HOMELAND-Movie) don’t parallel the reality as well, but the moral inside; love, hope, longing!!! hits the point.
In the 50ies or 60ies Germany made a lot of such “HOMELAND-movies, maybe similar to the western movies here in America. The fashion and setting was different: The maids wore braids and in the background you always saw the beautiful mountains of the Alps. In my childhood I preferred the action of your horse operas.
Last week I was in Germany, my homeland. My views about home have changed since I left it.
In the series International Geograffities I show you out of my personal photo album a sentimental movie of my homeland, without braids and mountains but with cows and pretty green willows. Reality? Sure! But only a very small part of it. Really important were the things between the scenes.
International Geograffities
Drifting Away
The special at home is simply its normality.
Just a few impressions, what’s really going on you can’t see.
10/4/2012
I am gone…
...it’s the law II
Two years ago I wrote a German column; “...it’s the law”. It doesn’t exist a translation. Those days I wrote down my thoughts about your laws here in America and the omnipresent reminder: “...it’s the law!“ It’s a threat with an uplifted index finger, excuse for stupid rules and the desperate hope to keep order in society.
However, I hate this sentence, it makes me fear instead of respect your laws.
I decided to try not getting in conflict with it but sometimes it seems impossible. There are rules you have to break. Sure sometimes I unleash my dogs, sure sometimes I cross the street where’s not allowed and sure I don’t count on stop signs: one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi.
So far I had luck. I never was caught doing unlawful bagatelles.
Samuel had less luck; two speeding tickets in 8 weeks. That hit him hard. Speeding sounds pretty evil and it seems that it sure is evil in this country. The fines; 250$ and 295$. Well, he has to accept.
Now the sword of Damocles hangs above him. If he gets a further traffic ticket he could lose his California driving license. He tries hard to abide by any rules.
I don’t want to excuse the speeding tickets. Those are the rules and you have to obey.
End of August, Moritz was still in the country, the boys and a couple of friends thought: “Let’s do something proper! Let’s go hiking!”
Late-youth, mostly foolish in the head, on their way getting adult: Hiking! What a nice idea. No fooleries, no alcohol or even any other drugs.
I was surprised but delighted.
The silly thing is that you also have to follow rules if you do reputable activities. The guys picked out an open space preserve for their hike. You find their almost more rules than wild animals...
I always have to look if dogs are allowed or bicycles, we need trails, where both are allowed. That’s still more difficult to find. Then helmets are required, and dogs must be on leash, sometimes you need a six feet leash, sometimes it doesn’t matter, 15 miles per hour, not more even downhill and so on...Before starting your hike you have to study the permission signs and sometimes they change the rules on your path. Suddenly dogs or bikes are prohibited. In my first month in the USA I was really angry with that, in the meantime I only smile about it.
after 20 minutes they were not allowed anymore
But we were in the story of the boys. They were seven and went hiking. And because it was so beautiful, they sat down westwards watching the pink sunset.
This was the mistake!
As they left shortly after 8 the park they met a ranger who was waiting for them. 7 tickets! The charge: “Enter preserve after hour!”
Even that is not allowed. After sunset the park is closed; it’s the law!
Well, a ticket for late hiking, that can’t be so bad. The ranger told them that’s not a traffic ticket and the guys were angry but actually it seems to us more ridiculous than serious...
...until the ticket came with the mail. The ticket? The tickets! One for Moritz, one for Samuel and also the other five received the notice of bail, issued by the Superior Court of California. An absolutely regular ticket, only not speeding but hiking.
238$, in words: Twohundredandthirtyeight!!!
238 $ x7=1666 $ (If they entered the area with the car probably only the driver got a ticket, that would have been much less expensive.)
I miss the balance. Dumping trash and parking on a disabled parking lot costs 1000$, OK! Speeding and hiking is the same? No wonder that the juvenile crime is so high.
If I got charged for almost honest activities in the same way as for things they make really fun, it’s easy to choose...
It’s not over yet: Objection, your honor! Most of the boys will go to the court and try their luck.
Receiving the tickets was one of these moments I clearly quarreled with this country and its system. The delinquents show more defiance than acceptance, understandably!
I will further let Ceallagh off leash, when I don’t spot a ranger, but I always feel observed. Here in America I never felt really free and presumable I never will.
I miss the balance between lapse and penalty!
Besides I wonder why California is bankrupt…if you pay for little late hiking so much money?…Ah that’s also the answer; because they have to pay lots of people who track such minor misdeeds.
to be continued...
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