MST 3000 in San Jose

Thursday evening, Paul and I set off to San Jose for our big event: we were going to attend "Mystery Science Theater 3000 Live", an encore for the performance after one in San Francisco. It was a special moment for MST3K fans in the Bay Areas, as it was Joel Hodgson's last live trip before his imminent retirement. It was a double excitement for Paul, for he has always wanted to see Joel performing alive. On more than one occasion, he was planning to go to Milwaukee for one of their very early shows, decades ago.

We had our dinner at In and Out, and happened to run into Rick and his son Michael. We then proceeded leisurely towards San Jose Center of Performing Arts. Our arrival was early, but there were already people waiting for the doors to open. People were casually dressed, some in MST3K themed outfits. You could feel the excitement and anticipation in the night air. 

We were finally admitted. There was a long line formed at the MST3K merchandise counter. We walked around different levels of walkways inside the hall, finding ourselves surrounded by crowds of fans everywhere, old and young, men and women. The theater was packed with thousands of devotees.

Soon, Joel and his quipping robot companions — Tom Servo, Crow, Gypsy, and Cambot— and crew came on stage with the darkening of the light. Mystery Science Theater 3000 was officially live on stage:

MST 3000 Live Opening scene.

Joe with his sarcastic robot companions.

Tom briefly acquired the body of a "beautiful butterfly."

The end: Joel Hodgson's whole ensemble.

Chippy Says Goodbye

In the early morning of 2019's last day, Chippy, the 18-year-old cat, fell into an eternal sleep. As considerate as ever, she left unobtrusively to let her loved ones celebrate a new year and a new decade.

Chippy was named after Mrs. Chippy, a cat owned by Harry "Chippy" McNish, a carpenter on Sir Ernest Shackleton's Trans-Antarctic Expedition of 1914-1917. She was always as overly attentively as her namesake was with McNish. When barely a kitten herself, Chippy made sure the teenager Nick would get enough sleep, by trotting to lie at the foot of his bed every night. Whenever Grandma Jindi visited Santa Cruz, Chippy would follow her everywhere. The two of them spent many mornings together listening to exercise tapes, while Grandma was doing Tai Chi. She was truly worried when Grandma suffered from one of her Alzheimer's episodes and was stuck outside the door for hours. Chippy managed to get along with a team of caregivers when her adopted parents had to travel overseas or out of state to take care of the ailing Grandma many times a year.

Being pure white, Chippy lived a polite and peaceful indoor life. Unlike some Homo sapiens whose greed knows no bounds, she was the epitome of contentment with her daily provisions, water and wheat grass, Iams cat food, and Johnny Cat litter. If there was something else she wanted, she would wait for her turn, and meow back after the wait was acknowledged. As the only cat in the household, she spent her spare time grooming and creating games to play. Until she could no longer jump, she would play a relay game with her family members by taking a computer duster from the pen-holder on the desk, and depositing it somewhere to be discovered.

Being a feline, Chippy might be equipped with mouse-catching capability, but not with a killer's instinct. When the garage was visited by rodents, she was anxious to investigate, but at a loss as to what to do when she actually caught one in her paws. Although she was the runt of her litter, Chippy refused to be bullied. One Christmas, a family friend came to stay with his full-sized German shepherd Stella. For her safety, the 10-poound Chippy was separated to a different room. On the third day, she ventured out and walked step by step toward Stella, without losing eye contact, like a stalking lioness.

Chippy is survived by her litter brother Elijah of Scotts Valley, brother Nick (and family) of Pleasanton, and parents Paul and Hui-Lan Titangos of Santa Cruz. On behalf of Chippy, the family would like to express their gratitude to her caretakers, Dody Anderson, Tom Dilbeck, Tyler Caceres, Rick "Peanut" Rizzo, and Linda Lippy. They would also like to thank the Santa Cruz County Animal Shelter and her veterinarian, Dr. Gary Roussopoulous, for his lifelong professional service and care.

Back from Shanghai for Christmas

Paul and I celebrated the coziest Christmas this year. After a whirlwind of a two week trip in Shanghai, we want nothing but to stay home since our return midday of December 22nd, 2019.

We arrived in Shanghai late in the evening on the 11th. Harmoniously and cooperatively, four of us, Hui, Baolin, Paul and I, spent the following day in Jinqiao, Pudong, purchasing cell phones and opening bank accounts. Such a harmony and cooperation among us four pretty much laid down the tone for our entire stay, even though our group is known for its members' strong and diverse personalities. When night fell, we were invited to Hui-Qiu's home for a family dinner, where Paul became Yaya's most popular "Grandpa".

Early the next day, we continued aboard China Eastern Air for a 5-day trip to Sanya with a tour guided by Ctrip. The next three days were devoted to visiting The First Bay of the World (Yalong Bay), Wuzhizhou Island, Nanshan, and End of the Earth. The time out was hot and long, averaging from 8:30 am to 7:00 pm, but we were charmed by Sanya's gorgeous fine-sand beaches, palm trees, bountiful tropical fruits, many colorful Russian tourists, and local residents consisting chiefly of transplants from all parts of the country.

Back from Sanya until our departure from Shanghai, we became extremely busy with lunches and dinners offered by friends, aunts and cousin. They all but killed us with their kindness and generosity. At one point, I was telling myself that I ate so much rich food that I could easily fast for a week.

December 20th, the eve of the winter solstice, finally arrived. We waited outside our Holiday Inn Express at 7:20 am waiting for Didi (Chinese version of Uber) to join my little aunt and her husband for the rented van. Little did we know that neither Didi nor taxi drivers were interested in the short distance (or little profit) in a fare to the aunt's place. After cancelling Didi twice, we were apparently on its blacklist and rejected for any opportunity to order a ride for the day. In the end, we had to be picked up by our own group's van after Ying's intervention.

It was a crispy, clear morning, promising a good day. Twenty-two of us gathered at the Lexiang Cemetery. Four of them were my father's second cousins, while the rest were from the families on my mother's side, uncles, two aunts, us three siblings and spouses, and in-laws. Lulu and Emily represented the third generation. We burned silver money to warm the place for Mother's ashes, laid next to Father's. It was then sealed with a granite cover. Once the red candles were lit and flowers presented, people began to line up to pay respects. For 100 Chinese yuan, a waiting man solicited to us to retouch the faded red color of the words on the tombstone. Paul paid to let the man start to work.

We then visited the tombs of my grandparents a few rows back, and those of my grandmother's sister and her husband a few rows in front. We were somewhat comforted at the thought that my parents were in a good neighborhood with their elders around. Moreover, they were no longer suffering from pain or debilitating illnesses that took their lives sooner than their siblings.

We had two tables reserved in a restaurant for an early lunch. The mood was at once somber and grateful for a rare gathering to remember our parents and their bigger families. We were all very proud to be their children, grandchildren or great grandchildren. It started to rain that very afternoon and for the remainder of our stay. Every family member acknowledged that the narrow window of fine weather was a blessing from our parents and grandparents.

But rain did not dampen our enthusiasm to explore both the old and new Shanghai, shopping, sightseeing and going to dinner. If "Sir, when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life (Samuel Johnson);" so it is true if one is tired of Shanghai.

My Thanksgivings in Santa Cruz

Since moving back to Santa Cruz in June 30, 1996, I have picked up the custom of Thanksgiving celebration. For over a decade, we would go to Lew's. He would prepare and present to us the most beautiful and delicious turkey. Together with another couple, we would be responsible for trimmings. The couple is no other than Carmen and Harvey who is one of Lew's oldest friends from Detroit, Michigan.

For some unknown reason, Carmen and Harvey stopped coming. It might be related to the fierce competition in table tennis between Lew and Harvey, a pair of superb players. It might be also possible that Lew's new Modesto female did not get along with the couple. A few years later, we took over turkey cooking when Lew started to decline physically.

Despite our numerous trips to New York to take care of our mother since 2008, Paul and I always managed to come back for Thanksgiving, with Lew as our special guest. At first, he drove himself to our house, but had to be picked up by Paul or Nick in later years. Nonetheless, he would join us, even in November 2017, two months before his passing. He was a proud man, reminiscing stories to us of his booming success in his home town with his laundromat that kept it's price at ten cents when all the other establishments were increasing their prices. He would also tell of us his innovative group approach in his social work and psychotherapy career with the County of Santa Clara.

At his last two Thanksgivings, Lew declined drastically, pale and bent, dwelling only on two things: all his family wealth disappeared without a trace, so did his parents and friends in Detroit; and his only usefulness now was reduced to signing checks requested by his bookkeeper, and girl friend. On hearing it, we were alarmed but felt helpless to comfort him. If there were a crystal ball, we would warn his cousin down in Southern California to intervene. Apparently, time is not on our side, two months later in January 2018, Lew passed after a two weeks' stay at Domincan Hospital.

Since 2018, we have been celebrating our Thanksgiving with Nick's family of four. The kids have brought us positive energy and festive spirits. But somewhere in a corner of our heart we miss the constant Thanksgiving guest who was so savvy all his life, but so muddle-headed toward the end of his life. 

Double Celebrations: a Magical Day

It’s a magical day Saturday, September 28th, 2019. Early in the morning, Crissie, Paul and I got up, dressed, and awaited Nick’s family of four.

As soon as the white Mercury was in sight of the front yard at 11:00 am, our quiet little house was transformed into a busy train station, with Leni running to and fro, whereas Paulie was crying at the top of his lungs. After a short rest, the seven of us drove in two vehicles to Prophet Elias Greek Orthodox Church for a double Baptism.

Father Milutin and Joseph were already waiting when we arrived at 1:00 pm. The table was decorated with ceremonial objects, and a tall, ornate metal water basin stood not far away. To start, Father Milutin led eight of us to the front door where he blessed the two kids and their parents, with readings, and signs of the cross.

We then proceeded forward to the altar, and lit our two candles, waiting for Leni and Paulie in underclothes. Directed by Father, six of us gathered around the fountain, while Joseph held both candles, and Paul clicked away with his camera. Four-and-a-half-year-old Leni was scared to be dunked into the water, but OK once she was wiped dry and clothed. I did not notice her slippery weight until two days later when I still felt muscles in my left arm sore and tight. Paulie was equally frightened with cries at the beginning, but his one-and-a-half-year-old weight was easy to handle.

Like two angels, both kids, wearing their new white Christening clothes, came running towards us. Led again by Father Milutin, six of us circled the alter three times. Afterwards, it was time for their first communion. Paulie did not put up any fight, but actually enjoyed receiving the sacrament, but his older sister, initially refusing the last part of the ceremony, eventually came around. Nick and Lee Anne signed the baptism documents and received instructions from Father on attending future Sunday liturgies for the kids to each receive communion three more times within 6 months.

At 3:00 pm, the Baptism was officially finalized. Just at that moment, four little kids were rushing into the church door. It is time for Father Milutin to work as a babysitter for his two kids, together with his friends' two kids, while Presbytera and her friends were going out in the afternoon.

Eight of us left the church for Rosie McCann's Irish Pub and Restaurant for celebration of the double Baptism. After the first round of drinks, and just as we ordered our lunch, the power went out. We waited for a couple of hours, until we were told that the power would not be back on until 7:00 pm. Our waitress apologized profusely, and credited Crissie and my margaritas.

Joseph had to leave us to drive back to the Bay Area while the rest of us went home to have a hearty late lunch and early dinner, which was followed by a deep nap enjoyed by Paul, Paulie, Lee Anne and Nick. Crissie, Leni and I were three real troopers who did not succumb to the temptation. We were simply too busy browsing iPads, running around, and cooking.

When dusk fell, the nappers began to stir, and we were all ready for Nick's birthday cake. His big day was the day before, but we agreed to combine the two events into one. The Buttery's carrot cake was divine. and vanilla ice cream heavenly.

With military precision, Paul and I packed our usual food bags for the little family to take away. When we hugged and waved goodbye to them, it finally dawned on us that in less than 10 hours we had undergone a lifetime experience. It is a big, eventful, and magical day, September 28, 2019.

 

Eat Like a Greek

Paul and I had a busy weekend. Friday evening, we frequented our First Friday Art stops by starting at Pacific Wave, MAH, Artisans Gallery, Stripes for Women & Stripes for Men, and ending at Felix Kulpa Gallery.

  
Courtesy of Santa Cruz Greek Festival

Saturday afternoon found us at this year's 38th Annual Greek Festival in Santa Cruz, sponsored by Prophet Elias Greek Orthodox Church. Once Paul finished his itemized consultation with Father Milutin Janjic, and I watched the video interview played in the church, we went straight to the food tents, and bought our favorite foods. After inhaling delicious gyros, loukoumathes, and moussaka in no time, we proceeded to walk and enjoy like a Greek.

The Spartan Band's music was lively and powerful as usual. At 4:00 pm, a Monterey dance troupe performed a series of professional Greek folk dances, even though the average age of the members seemed to be 70 and above. The Sunday afternoon public dance was led by a number of young people. Different age groups gave rise to different energies, each enjoyable in their respective ways.

The festive singing, smells, and sights reminded me of my first attendance in 1989. The food appeared to be much the same, but with wider variety and bigger volume. Many a familiar face is no longer to be seen. Friends have passed, moved away, or are otherwise engaged. However, we had a great time with new festival friends in Kevin, Joseph, and his sister, Kim, and old friends in Shirley and Mr. Peterson.

This year's festival has been exceptionally well-thought-out and organized. The friendship and joy from the festival has not only brought people together as Bek Phillips wrote in her article, but is warming their hearts and souls throughout the year!

Needless to say, we did eat and enjoy like a Greek for the weekend!

Live Oak History Walk around Schwan Lake

Last Tuesday evening (August 6, 2019) at 6:00 pm sharp, Jim, Paul and I joined about 30 people gathered at Simpkins Family Swim Center to start our nature walk toward Schwan Lake, headed by Norman Poitevin and members from Live Oak Neighbors (LON).

It is the first time I had seen the hill side, instead of the ocean side of Schwan Lake, named after Jacob Schwan, a German grain farmer and land owner. There are two well-trodden paths leading to the lake. Around the water's edge, it is unusually quiet and green, not unlike some lakes in New York, such as the Teatown Lake.

One LON member presented her talk on the development of Live Oak's Mobile Home Parks. According to her, there were over 50 mobile homes parks then, half of which were constructed in Live Oak then. No wonder the City of Santa Cruz did not want to annex trashy Live Oak.

We stopped at various spots to listen to Norman talking about the Skyview Drive-In, the Antonelli Family Begonia Gardens, Live Oak Plaza, the Old Cork Oak, and the county's first Farm Advisor, Henry Washburn, director of the University of California agricultural extension service in Santa Cruz County. Norman could not help but admire at the annual journals and corresponding photo albums Washburn had kept for more than 30 years. As luck has it, Washburn's granddaughter was one of the visitors on site. She told the crowd that she was now struggling with a houseful of Washburn's historical stuff. Accidentally, she demystified his orderly bookkeeping, to meet the requirements of Washington's funding application.

Elizabeth Schilling, president of Live Oak Grange, concentrated sorely on the Santa Cruz Live Oak Grange #503. Chartered on August 5, 1932 with 30 members increasing to 150 members in 1936, the construction of the Grange hall was completed in March 1957 at a cost of $11,000.  After the talk, Paul and I asked her about the community garden across the Grange, especially its water usage. She told us that it once belonged to the Methodist Church for a new church 15 years previously. For some reason, it did not pan out. So the Grange is taking over and leasing out at an annual fee of $30 per lot, including water. She also told us that every 4th Sunday, there is a trade/barter fair in the Grange. On hearing that we grew tomatoes, lemons and limes, She encouraged us to trade our citrus fruits. What a great idea! 

The walk ended on time as scheduled. Three of us all felt happily tired and intellectually nourished. We are one step closer to where we live and soon where we work by understanding a little bit more about its past, mute but beckoning at us from time to time.

A Venetian Elder Abuse

Unto us a son is given is Donna Leon's newest book, published in March, 2019. Unlike her previous 27 installments of Guido Brunetti mysteries, it concentrates on solving a case of financial elder abuse turning into murders (image courtesy Penguin UK).

Eighty-five-year-old Gonzalo Rodriguez de Tejada is a naturalized Italian. He is Brunetti's parents-in-law's best friend, his wife's godfather and unofficial uncle. As a successful art collector and dealer, he has accumulated a vast fortune and expensive Venetian apartments in his lifetime. With his rapid decline in health, Gonzalo, a childless bachelor, decides to leave everything to his newly-adopted son Attilio Circetti, Marchese di Torrebardo, instead of sharing it with his three living siblings. He lives under the illusion that young Attilio is the only one willing to learn his art business, able to love him in his old age, and appreciate his beautiful collections after he is gone. Once the adoption is made, Gonzalo drops dead while walking on the street with his sister. His funeral, conducted back home in Spain, is immediately followed by the deaths of his two oldest friends when they return to Venice for his memorial service.

With the unparalleled phenomenon of an aging population, law suits over inheritances are rising worldwide. Santa Cruz County is no exception. The Santa Cruz Sentinel calls its readers to Act as guardians to prevent elder abuse. The Grey Bears, a local organization to improve the health and well-being of seniors of Santa Cruz County, is not far behind, with a flyer provided by the Santa Cruz District Attorney, distributed far and wide among its "Brown Bag" members on July 26, 2019. (Flyer courtesy Grey Bears)

The phenomenon is such that Donna Leon, who normally creates mysteries in education, finance, medicine, or music, has dived into financial elder abuse law. For the first time, she zooms in on a new crop of predators feasting on wealthy, but vulnerable, elderly Venetians. As long as there is uneven distribution of wealth, there will be greed and abuses of many kinds. Sometimes it is straightforward, other times it needs the expertise of Commissario Guido Brunetti to untangle a disturbing and sobering mystery for the financially abused elders. 

In Memory of Flora B. Curtice Hansen

Right after 4th of July, I read from Sentinel an obituary of Flora B. Curtice Hansen, our old family therapist at the turn of the Millennium.  

Both Paul and I are saddened at Flora's passing. Flora was one of the most professional and compassionate people in our new life in Santa Cruz more than two decades ago. Unlike some stern therapists, she was kind and warm, encouraging and fostering. As a result of her great work, we, as a family, did not take any drastic measures, but have learned how to communicate with each other, and resolve problems. With her lemon tree laden with fruit outside, and friendly golden retriever sleeping inside, she taught us how to take care of plants and animals too. Before long, we adopted a white runt kitten who has grown into a beautiful calendar girl. 

Our connection with Flora did not stop with the end of therapy sessions, but has been remaining a lifelong success story. We always admire Flora's serenity and curiosity about the world, and especially her eagerness to keep abreast with the progress of her patients. We are forever grateful to her human and innovative approach.

The following is an obituary published in July 5, 2019 in Santa Cruz Sentinel.

Flora B. Curtice Hansen

Oct 5, 1930 - June 6, 2019 Santa Cruz
 

Flora B. Curtice Hansen, a psychotherapist and artist who lived in Santa Cruz since 1985, died peacefully at Sunshine Villa on June 6, 2019, at the age of 88. She had no children. Her husband, Craig Hansen, also an artist, preceded her in death several years ago. Originally from New York, she lived and worked in Berkeley for several decades before moving to Santa Cruz. Flora was a devoted friend, animal lover, delighted in her garden and life in Santa Cruz. No public memorial is planned.

Flags, Libraries, & Parks in Youngstown

Paul gave me a thorough tour of his hometown, Youngstown, Ohio right after Nasig 2019 ended last Saturday in Pittsburgh. He showed me his family house at Glenwood and Mistletoe, his elementary school, middle school and high school.

Since the closure of steel mills starting on Black Monday, 9/19/1977 through mid-80’s, Youngstown has had a hard time recovering from the deep economic recession, after losing its main economy, echoing a national trend of deindustrialization. With the exception of big brick or stone houses along Mill Creek Park and those in Boardman, many houses are in the dilapidated condition, or simply torn down to turn into empty lots between houses, just like a mouth of poorly maintained human teeth, with gaps and holes.

Despite such a depressing appearance, there are undercurrents of resilience. Most notably, there are more American flags flying than anyway else in residential areas, streets, government offices, and schools. Maybe depression make people more appreciate government welfare.

The second outstanding feature is people’s bursting pride in their public libraries. Before departing to airport, we visited Poland Library of Youngstown and Mohoning County, at the high recommendation of our friend Robert. It is airy, bright, and comfortable, built around an old seminary dormitory.With an areas of approximately 36,000 square feet, it has three floors, housing friends of library store and meeting room, library, and staff area.

Last but not least is renaissance of parks and recreation and educational centers. With private funds, Rose Garden (Fellows Riverside Gardens), Mill Creek Park and Youngstown State University all have been given a partial or whole or partial makeover. They not only provide people with beauty, but more importantly, hope and aspirations for a better future.

When driving out of Youngstown to go to Pittsburgh along I-680 S to I-76 E, we were periodically slowed down by roadwork. A series of road repair and lane expansions were under construction with all the signs and big machines up and standby. Apparently the way to Youngstown will be more smooth and pleasant. It is a sign of the beginning of recovery, hopefully.