my bankrupt state

Summer has begun - not the season, the domestic arrangement. Young S finished her first year of school and is officially a first-grader (oh my!). While the end of the school year completely up-ends my work expectations, this is nothing compared to the hundreds of California teachers who now find themselves without a job. They're not jobless because thousands of schoolkids have disappeared but because my state is bankrupt.

A $16 billion shortfall means that all "social services" get cut. The misnomer "services" refers to the essentials of life: publicly-supported health care, infrastructure, and public education. Somewhere around 24,000 teachers and school staff will be/have been cut. In a couple of months I'll have to report back on what this means for my grade school where young S was in a class of 32 kindergartners. California will certainly retain its distinctive education rating: 51st out of 51 states and the Territory of Puerto Rico in student-to-teacher ratios.

Coincidentally, this very month marks the 30th anniversary of the passage of Proposition 13. That "popular revolt" against increasing residential property taxes deserves much of the credit for struggling, underfunded schools - and schoolkids - in California. And while I sympathize with the currents that brought this about - a state legislature that shifted its revenue source from corporations to individuals - Proposition 13 was a harbinger of the current fiasco (which includes the Governor's zany schemes to fund education with a Wall-Street backed lottery). Californians then and now don't want to pay for the comforts they enjoy (chief among these is the well-regulated interstate system) and they're sadly reluctant to make California industry contribute its part. Too many Californians are focused on the "minutiae of me" and see budget cuts to life's essentials as acceptable so long as it doesn't touch them.*

In this the state's current fiscal woes are indicative of a deeper, moral bankruptcy of toxic individualism. In this fantasy state-of-mind, everyone (also read as "every nuclear family") does her own thing separate from everyone else for her own personal enjoyment/fulfillment, etc. I could cite those lovely hours I have spent on the freeway dodging wild-eyed drivers as evidence of the mentality-of-one (and, of course, the highways are proof of this of themselves - why can't I take the train to get where I want to go? The train doesn't go there.)** Instead, I will offer proof through comparison. I am a fan of public libraries. The last two cities I lived in (in semi-urban Oregon and rural Ohio) both opened grand, new public libraries recently. These impressive edifices house their expanding collections and accommodate an increasing number of patrons. Here in my corner of OC, the public library is tiny - pinned between the Chamber of Commerce and school district offices. Its selection of books is slim, but can be termed solid if I overlook the baby-boomer era children's books which should be removed to an archive. What is more likely, however, is that one of the librarians will be removed; another casualty of budget cuts. This person can join California educators who have also lost their jobs. All these professionals - in whom the state invested so much by educating them - is watching them take their skills and experience to other states less plagued by bankruptcy.


*Note I didn't say all Californians; just too many.
**I can't give this one up that easily. Last week, LA Metro ridership hit an all-time high at 50,000 passengers a day (credited to high gas prices). News bites failed to note that the average daily ridership 70 years ago (before all the track was torn out and paved over) was 200,000.

simple delights

My sweetie and I marked our fifth anniversary last weekend. We both took the afternoon off so we could celebrate with lunch for two at an imposing French restaurant down the road. (I had the unexpected and unusual experience of feeling relaxed and carefree for a whole afternoon, undoubtedly helped along by the deceptively rich food and wine.) It was so simple and such a perfect way to celebrate. Realizing this served as a gentle reminded not only of the many simple delights we've shared but of the simple joy of sharing them with my sweet heart!

spring blue

June already?

Even though I'm not teaching (and I'm no where near my home department), I'm experiencing the late spring-term blues. That desire to close the books, get outside and spend, say, a few precious hours thinking about something less demanding and less draining. Maybe this is sympathy, or maybe it's cyclical - spring is always a low energy point. (Though I suspect, it's not just spring - feeling exhausted and behind and occasionally morose is a trade standard.) The trouble is that I have no break to look forward to. The process just goes on and on and on. (In a particularly wicked twist, I set my own deadlines.) This serves to deepen the blue. All is not lost though. My "spring" will come to a close in July when I get a much-needed change of scenery rather than a true end-of-the-term. We're planning on motoring up to see the fam in Montana. This doesn't constitute a true vacation since we're bartering grandchild-time for a regular work week. But it is as close as I'm going get this summer, so I'll take it.

In the meantime, I'll try to reinvigorate that late-term holding pattern that got me through so many a spring term. Amazingly, the weather in southern Cal seems to be on board with my spring blues. It has offered up a week of cloudy mornings. So unseasonable. And so distasteful to the locals. Ah. Nothing improves the blues like sharing them.

surpises

We got some unexpected rain today. I loved it. It was cool and drippy all afternoon with no puddles. Then we got some thunder and lightning (even more of a rarity). And - in the next county just over the hills - tornadoes.

I think I figured out how to open my chapter. I believe I hit upon the way to bring all the movements together to get to the really cool and interesting stuff. (I was stuck on the interweaving of labor migration, an imperial political economy, and citizenship - and Glenn and Lowe weren't quite doing enough for me.) I did this on scant sleep (S had a bad dream last night). Small surprises are good.

Yesterday my former "home state" allocated their party votes to Obama. I fondly recalled when I used to vote-by-mail. What an easy, convenient system. Interestingly, the next big primary is in Puerto Rico - roughly the size of the two states that voted yesterday (63 delegates to Oregon's 65 and Kentucky's 60). Funny though, these will be the only votes Puerto Ricans get to cast for president (unless they all hop on over to the mainland and register in time - could they swing Florida?) I can't help but note the eerie similarities between Puerto Rican's current federal "citizenship" and their colonial subjecthood from one hundred years prior (ditto to Guamanians - 9 delegates - and Virgin Islanders - also 9). My point? Some things just aren't surprising.

on sources and such

Still mucking my way through sources. In my assessment, I'm in them way beyond the elbows; up the the armpits definitely. In fact, I have had to turn my head to the side – to avoid drowning in my sources. As a result, I have developed a crimp in my neck. And my fingers are getting pruney.

Most recently, I've been reading stories covering anti-Filipino race riots (circa 1930). The U.S. Filipino papers describe the perpetrators as "flaming youths." My referent for this adjective is very contemporary and linked to discussions of sexuality. But the OED tells me that 1920's usage referred to the "unrestrained behavior" of the young. I wish the newspaper editors had intended another twenties' meaning - the profane epithet. Then again, language is slippery and surely I can slip this meaning in too.

I plan to scurry back to my mucking thanks to Perspectives (and RT) which informs me that the average time to a history PhD is ten years!! More surprising, over half of doctoral students never complete their degrees. I plan to join the ranks of the completed (where my degree and a dollar will get me a cuppa).

Before closing, I wanted to share this pic. Several weeks ago S and I went to USC to do some paid research. (Well, I did the research, S sat in high-back leather chair at a huge, polished research table and watched a movie). Anyway, I found some wonderful images that basked in the light of day and refused to go back into their folders.
This is M. Monks, defiant in the face of police inspectors who wanted to extradite her to San Diego (for allegedly writing bad checks; she moved on to greater notoriety).

Happy digging to my fellow dissertators - and congrats to one in particular!

occupational hazards

I am tapped. I had to wind down (my admittedly short) workday early today. I was all out of pluck. I tried shifting from reading, reading, reading to writing and I stared at the screen for half an hour. I've been reading newspapers - ten years worth of newspapers - and the last two years are killing me. I'm overwhelmed with information. My head is literally spinning - that is, as I sit here typing my head feels like a top wobbling on my neck right before it topples to the side.

I won't go into the psychosis I'm developing as a result of my isolated and focused occupation, but I should mention that I think I'm developing a vulture neck. I bow my head to read books, photocopies, and my laptop; I rarely look straight ahead. I can feel this in the base of my neck. Beware. I'll look different when next you see me.*

I'm also developing a condition I call "dissertator's elbow." Most of the day, my left elbow sits on the desk or is pinned under my forearm which supports my chin (as I amble on to something or other). It is becoming nicely red and inflamed.

While I think I was prepared for this phase of professionalization, I didn't anticipate the injuries that go along with it.

*yeah, that's the neck.

TOTALLY UNRELATED ADDENDUM: Have you been following the Democratic primary? Check out this great story by Betsy Reed (at The Nation).

desiccating

Whew! We just weathered our second 100-degree weekend in April. Those infamous Santa Ana winds that caused Malibu - and some other places - to burn last October are back. Actually, they never went away. I was totally unprepared for the persistence of the wind, the heat and the desert climate. It is uncomfortably hot and dry here. (Something that is not conductive to hours of mental work.)

In this weather, I prefer to sit in front of a fan eating soft service ice cream, but have had no such luck. Some advantages to such weather in this region is easy access to the beach and nighttime temperatures below 60. We all took to the beach on Saturday. I decided I prefer 100 degrees of dry California to 90 degrees of humid Ohio. I don't want to imply that I prefer 100 degrees of dry Californians, because they are simply wacky. I noticed that in this weather they do a lot of leaving family members (like spouses, youngish children) in their running cars. Not just for a minute, but for half an hour or more while they get groceries or shop. I just can't believe that this saves fuel (as in, don't have to cool off the car again); I think they do it because it makes Driver more comfortable to run from fully air-conditioned store to fully air-conditioned car. While I could wax on about wimpishness or self-conceit, I will chose another high road which is to point out that gas is averaging 3.86 per gallon.

Ok, I'm going to crawl back to my jigsaw puzzle and sweat it out.