Tomato Sandwiches

You Can Bring The Tomato Sandwiches on the Canoe

Whatever happened to the lazy days of summer that consisted so simply of canoe rides on the nearest lake, your best friend’s delightful disclosure of little secrets held onto since Fall and tomato sandwiches on the porch?  And what became of children spending the entire afternoon scouring neighborhood lawns in search of all manner of insect, mason jar with holes in the lid in tow?  Those days, it seems, have made way for a higher-brow sort of summer.  I hear all about the trips and experiences of a lifetime but being the sort who is captive to familiar things, I’m not one to give up on a good canoe ride…tried and true.  And so, with summer here it makes me wonder.  Must I really spend six weeks “summering” in the Hamptons or scaling the North Face to feel like I measure up on the Worthy Summer Scale?  Honestly, is it really necessary that I sit, interested for 5 minutes and then bored to the point of suicide for the next 90, hearing about my neighbors excursion to some remote Basque Country location to herd and shear sheep, spin the wool into yarn and then knit 4,000 sweaters for the needy children in nearby villages?   Real nice and all but it makes my tomato sandwich excursion come up a little short.  It doesn’t help matters that they’ll end the trip with a private audience with the Dalai Lama himself which, incidentally, earns your kid a semesters worth of college credit.  You can imagine that my  Jerry Garcia look-alike sighting in Golden Gate Park during a free concert just isn’t as impressive. What became of the hypnotic afternoons of well-worn quilts spread about the lawn and strewn with the latest trashy magazines and Tupperware containers filled with strawberries soaked in sugary syrup?  No more.  Now we’re compelled to head to exotic corners of the world for Tantric Yoga Inner Balancing Retreats.  Our heirloom quilts are trumped by 5,000 thread count organic Egyptian cotton spa sheets and our beloved strawberries, now thought too sugary, have been replaced with cucumber infused mineral water.  Ohh, sigh, lament, sigh, lament….Is the call of the Great Wall of China that much more commanding  than that of the latest from Dan Brown or J.K. Rowlings?  Must I endure 17 hours of germ infested strangers on a means of travel fraught with the potential for disaster?  The friendly skies seeming less and less friendly.  How about the pilgrimage to the hammock in my backyard which holds so little potential for a tragic demise?  I suppose with the current thinking my parents would have been considered irresponsible for allowing us to ride our bikes downhill, onto the dock and straight into the lake…no helmets, no life jackets.  Our shoes came off the last day of school and didn’t go back on until it resumed in the Fall.  Pure, unadulterated reckless abandon.  The elixir of life…ours to savor every long and lazy day of summer.  Now, not so much.  I think the latest hysteria is that you’ll get a terrible, life threatening disease from running around barefoot and if word got out now-a-days that kids are having too much fun some nibby-nosed parent would have it shut down in a matter of minutes.  Far better the precious free time of our over-booked youth be packed to capacity with exorbitantly priced camps whose mission to profoundly and permanently enhance the quality of the campers life is proclaimed throughout the land, or at least Piedmont, by all the parents who have deposited their little lovelies there for the last several years. Sigh, lament, sigh, lament again…I suppose old quilts and trashy magazines could lead to lounging, lounging could lead to day-dreaming, daydreaming could lead to creative thought and geez, who knows what the heck that could lead to. So, fare thee well you Piedmont summer folk!  Off you go! Adults, to a

Sustainable Organic Farming Camp with a Corporate Teambuilding Component and kids….take your pick!   Future Quantum Physicists of America Camp, Andre Agassi Tennis Camp, David Beckham Soccer Camp, Trek the Himalayas Camp, African Safari Camp (Yes, in Africa, duh..), Civil War Re-enactment Camp (Yes, you’ll actually shoot people and contract syphilis…c’mon, it’s all part of the experience!), George Lucas Film Production Camp, Stalk and Kill Your Own Bear Camp (the insurance on this one can be a little pricey), Sociological Exploration Camp, Extreme Jet Powered Kite Surfing Camp, Climb Mt. Kilimanjaro Camp (Yes, you actually climb it). Go on! Live the life!  Dream the dream! Upon your return I’ll flag down the ice cream truck.  I think the prices have gone up but for about $2 we can get a handful of Otter-Pops.  We’ll enjoy them in sun…on my blanket.  It’ll be fun.  Seriously.      

                                                                                                                             

No Mom, I Don't Want A glass of Chardonnay

Good Lord...

E. Boyer

Ahhhh, high school graduation.  Our talented young fledglings leaving the nest, flying high on to their bright and promising futures.  Filled with dreams and optimism about the adventures they’ll soon embark upon. So scholarly in their cap and gown often draped with a colorful flower lei for a touch of whimsy.  The weather cooperates fully in deference to the significance of the day and the stands are filled to capacity with adoring relatives.  Yes indeed, this is the stuff of which dreams are made.  Wait…whatha..why is that child vomiting?  Come to think of it, all of these promising young graduates look a little green around the gills.  Oh, for corn sakes!  Is it possible that the little Einsteins are hungover?!? Well, pick your chin up off the floor, what did you expect?  Most of them are coming from an all-nighter that one of the families hosted to honor the young darlings.  I know, I know, the legal drinking age is 21 in the state of California but apparently in Piedmont this law is open to interpretation.  So, fast forward and here we are with hungover high school graduates because somebody’s parent had the bright idea that the best way to be popular in their child’s eyes would be to host the teenage cocktail party.  And yes, Mrs. Takeyourbrainoutofyourass, wine and champagne are, in fact, still considered alcohol.  And no, serving it in pretty little glasses doesn’t change that.  Being drunk after17  crystal flutes of champagne served in someone’s beautifully landscaped yard is no different than being drunk from 7 shots of Tequilla served up at the local bar.  Seriously guys, what’s the deal with this?  #1 It’s illegal.  #2 It’s dangerous.  #3 No, none of the kids think you’re cool, in fact they find you downright immature and creepy and if the alcohol doesn’t make them vomit, being served a drink by someone’s scantily clad mom definitely will.  Yep…”pathetic” is the word one student used to summarize their opinion of the parents at a few of such gatherings.  Well, for heaven’s sake, that’s sad.  To put all that time and energy into planning the perfect party, the countless hours deciding between Merlot or Cabernet, Margerita or Cosmopolitan, Corona or Trumer Pilsner and then to be thought of as merely pathetic.  Gee, that’s…well…pathetic!  Tip: Six words a high school student never wants to hear muttered from his parents lips while at a party..”Sweetheart, would you like a beer?”  Uh..no, mom.  Actually, what I was hoping for was a positive role model, love and guidance and for you to be my rock in this rough and unpredictable river of life.  And while you’re at it, could you please stop trying to be cool in front of my friends?  You already had your turn at being a kid and it’s our turn, now.  We’ll secretly get our own beer if we want it and there are way more important things you could be helping us with.  Seriously, that’s what they’re saying.

Congrats class of 2010!  Yes, most of you really are smarter than your parents!

Bake Sale!

I have an idea and I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner.  But, with

all this talk of dropping the fourth grade music program and cutting this and that and teacher pink slips, etc. it hurled me into a problem solver mood.  I won’t bother to elaborate on the importance of music as part of one’s early education because only a daft and cultureless merry Andrew would benefit from such redundancy and surely none of the Post readers fall into that category.  So, to the point:  A bake sale!  That’s right, The PUSD Administrative Bake Sale!  Rather than cut anymore programs or send out the usual distress call to Piedmont’s altruistic parent volunteers for fundraising to save the threatened programs, let’s help the six figure fellas of PUSD organize a bake sale to make up for their very own salary cuts.  Ya’ see, by shaving just a titch off those top five or six salaries we could put that money back into the classrooms.  Naturally, it wouldn’t be fair or decent to leave the Admin. team stranded in the five-figure range, so we’d have to help them. No worries there because if anyone knows how to raise funds it’s the parents of Piedmont.  But, if I may digress for just a moment, does no one find it odd that for the past three years people all over the world have taken salary cuts just to keep their jobs?  Is there anyone, even here in Piedmont, who hasn’t tightened their belt or made adjustments to their lifestyle in response to a collapsed economy?  Most of us have, haven’t we?  Why are the children of our community expected to rely on bake sales and other fundraisers to get an education when six figure salaries abound at the top?  And, why are teachers  plagued with uncertainty waiting for the next round of pink slips?  Has no one in the district heard of re-structuring?  Or, are they just confident, pure and simple, that parents will “write another check?”  Why in the world would we take things away from the kids before eliminating the excess at the top?!?  This isn’t Walll Street or Washington, for Pete’s sake!  This is a small town and as taxpayers we should be able to have a little more influence and exert a little more pressure to ensure that our K-12 crowd is being properly served.  O.K., back to my idea...so, let’s cut a third or so from those five or six administrative salaries and they can then do what parents  are so often expected to do…  make up the difference.  Yep…it’s time for a bake sale!  Be strong Administrators, because you’re gonna have to market the heck outta this thing and you’ll have to start planning now for next year.   Oh, I know, it’ll be lotsa hard work for very little return which is why you’ll have to do several of them throughout the year.  Let’s see, if we cut a third from each salary that’s about $35,000 each, give or take a few.  So, yep…you better get right to it because at 75 cents a piece, that’s over 46,000 brownies you’ll have to sell.  Each!  Good Lord, that’s a lot of brownies and my heart goes out to you, really it does.  But, times are tough and we have to make cuts somewhere and since historically the kids have had to bear the brunt, it’s the only fair and decent thing to do.   Because to sit back with those salaries, in this economy, and make a conscious decision to toss the kids out of the life raft so a few administrators can stay warm and dry would be abhorrent.  Don’t worry, Administrative Team, the parents of Piedmont will be there every step of the way to offer you moral support and guidance.  You can do it!  Now, dust off your recipes and put on those aprons…you folks have some baking to do!!