Dani Saves The World

Buying Time

2010-03-13T11:02:00.000-08:00

From my Reading at Oakland's Rock Paper Scissors, March 11, 2010

It all started, much like most parents’ fears, at the onset of my oldest daughter’s puberty. Her hormones raged, mildly at first and then swelled into tsunami-like waves- ebbing and flowing like a madwoman, charging forward and then crawling away; ranting and then crying. Demanding milkshakes and turning away from my hugs. Her half-ass attempts at dressing for school turned into hours in the bathroom. Weekend mornings pleading for pancakes and cartoons were replaced with groggy breakfasts at noon… which were followed by extended naps behind closed doors. Then, came talk of boys- and then girls- and then boys again.

Throughout those oh-so-magical first years of puberty, a deep and desperate panic crept up from somewhere inside of me. As I caught our reflections passing by a window one morning, I realized that my sweet little girl, who once nestled herself to sleep in my arms and came running and sobbing with skinned knees and gravel-embedded palms is not a little girl anymore. At all. Instead of climbing on my shoulders to see through the crowds we sometimes find ourselves in, she stands nearly eye-to-eye with me, wearing my clothes and make-up. As a parent, I have accepted and even come to cherish the constant changes in my kids and the stages of development they weave in and out of. But I also more-recently realized, with much less confidence, that someday in the not so distant future, this little girl who is quickly becoming a woman is going to fall in love, have sex and quite likely going to have her heart-broken.

Now, upon this realization, all of my self-righteous ideas of raising strong, ass-kicking, take-no-shit, tough-as-nails, sexually-liberated feminist daughters immediately switched to fear and dissipated. I managed to keep my anxiety under-wraps for the most part and expressed it casually at first, with my sweaty palms shoved firmly into my pockets. I’d hint, nonchalantly, that “eh- boys, shmoyz: you’ve got the rest of your life to deal with them. They actually take a lot of time and patience to deal with. You should focus on your art and get your math grades up first. Spend more time with your friends instead of worrying about them.” Eventually, however, I found myself desperate with a sense of control that I had never imagined and began, with much neurosis and embarrassment, to offer my sweet teenage daughter, cold hard cash to avoid relationships all together.

First, I dished out an offer of $100 to not kiss a boy until she turned 16. Easy enough, I thought. I could buy her obedience, right? Super easy with teens, right? Next, I stepped it up a notch and offered her $300 if she waited until she was 18 and suggested an increase in funds if she could hold it together through the following years of college. My worst nightmare was for her to let the Twilight series inform her world and have her get all wrapped up in a co-dependent relationship with a whiny, starving emo vampire guy or some aggressive, angry werewolf guy (no matter how sweet his abs are). So I pushed the money her way. Her response, complete with the stereo-typical “are you fucking kidding me?” teenager facial expression only fueled my inner madness as she began making counter-offers, “well, if I do get a boyfriend and start kissing and stuff, then, like, I guess I’ll just give you some money, ok mom?”

I was screwed. I talked to friends and listened to advice, which made me feel mostly better. Then, I rehashed my own behavior during my teenage years, which really did nothing other than motivate me to find chastity belts and chains to lock her up with. Finally, after much obsessing, I understood that I had to let it go. More importantly, I realized that I couldn’t afford or justify forking out cash for something so ridiculous when what she really needs are braces and a new pair of shoes. But I did arrive at a place of really understanding my motives around this issue. Becoming this dreadful, overprotective mother would essentially rob my daughter from experiences she needs to have to become the amazing woman that I know she is. I’d be robbing her of all of the fun and magic and awkwardness of first kisses and late night phone calls and eventually giggly girl-talk over rug burns and tear-jerking, soul-shaking passion.

As I began to loosen my death grip on her, I also faced my own issues. What I was trying to do, mostly on a subconscious level but also because I am mildly nuts, was to buy my own way out of the hurt and abuse and soul-crushing heartache I had fallen victim to. As parents, we will quite often go to ridiculous lengths to protect our kids and I found that I was a willing and eager warrior set out to battle against some mythical future that I hadn’t even caught a glimpse of. I never want her to worry about whether or not she is good enough for some guy. I don’t want her second-guessing herself or believing that she should change to accommodate someone else’s media-influenced beauty standards. What I lost sight of in focusing in on the troubles I’ve seen, are the kisses that cause knees to shake and go limp, late night whispers, the adventurous thrills of vacation sex, Sunday afternoon rendezvous with secret lovers, and the empowerment that comes along with allowing pleasure and connection with people in our lives.

I know I can’t protect my girls from everything, despite a natural mama bear instinct that wells up inside at just the thought of them shedding even a single tear. What I can do- and should do, is continue to encourage and empower them by example. The best I can do is to be honest and available and show them that I am worthy of the love and passion that sometimes comes my way. This will hopefully pave the roads with confidence, regardless of which direction they take. I also know that I need to let them live their own lives while I balance between stepping back and opening my arms to them when they need to come crying, cracked hearts and bruised egos. And, just as a back-up plan I have stashed that $100 bill away in a Swiss bank account in case my new found humility ever takes a back seat.

Radical Parents LOVE Radical Allies!

2010-03-01T07:54:00.000-08:00

From Rad Dad Zine #17

I had a lapse in judgment with the company I was keeping, in boyfriend form, about a year ago. One of many, a heated argument arose around the topic of politics and my often-radical parenting approach. The dispute arose when I mentioned tabling at an Anarchist Book Fair. I elaborated about my children’s participation and he about lost his shit.

“You know Anarchists? And you allow your kids around them?” He asked, wide eyed and stunned. “You don’t consider yourself to be one of those people, do you?”

Here we go again, I thought, attempting to keep my eyes from rolling back into their sockets.

This wasn’t the first, nor I am sure, will it be the last time that I felt the need to carefully and thoughtfully defend and explain myself and my parenting politics. The terms radical and anarchist tend to invoke unwavering disapproval and fear when coupled with the word parenting and somehow manage to ironically place those using the terms into an isolated box.

Anarchist parenting has received the worst of raps. Many an assumption is made about the parenting practice, most of which revolving around the idea that Anarchist parents refuse to discipline their children, leaving them free to wander the streets, armed to the teeth with Molotov cocktails and spray-paint cans. Parents can thank the negative stereotypes portrayed on the evening news when reports of violent protesters are used as scapegoats in order to deter viewers from the deeper issues that need attention.

For me, radical parenting consists of keeping an open and honest dialogue with my children in regards to the many often horrifying and seedy situations that my government enters into. This also means that I try to focus on alternatives to government involvement through community building and supplementing institutional education with stories of untold histories and unexplored lands. Without discovering and creating alternatives to the current institutions, history will in fact be doomed to repeat itself- and who doesn’t want more for their children than the flawed systems we’ve all had to work within?

Discipline is also a part of my parenting practice, though I tend to lean more toward boundary-setting, correcting behavior and the natural consequences philosophy. I absolutely demand respect as an elder, a provider and as a woman, which tends to create some interesting challenges with me, as a single mother of two little girls. No one ever said it would be easy raising radical feminist daughters in our patriarchal society and I have found that patience, consistence and flexibility are priceless attributes that have taken me nearly fifteen years to cultivate. I have been called on my shit by my girls more times than I care to admit and am constantly needing to remind myself that these girls are the newest generation of leaders and that I’ll be sent my karmic payment points in the near-distant future.

In addition to creating authority-questioning children that tend to assert their anti-authoritarian ideals at inopportune times like bedtime or in line at the post office, radical parents are often confronted with their fair shares of challenges. In a society full of nosy strangers just dying to gush out unsolicited advice and ask personal and intrusive questions like: “Is the father involved?” or “Don’t you think it is dangerous taking them to that rally?” parents of all walks of life can quite often feel under attack for choices made on children’s behalves. It is also a tough act to teach our children to be allies without being overbearing and controlling about behavior. It can be exhausting to constantly be “on” and continuously deconstructing the countless societal myths we, as a community, are up against. Myths about beauty standards, elections, gender roles, class and race struggles- it can all be overwhelming. This is where the importance of a radical community of allies- both parents and non-parents alike- is crucial.

Parenting can be isolating without these allies. Sometimes the unsupportive outside forces can be family members, boyfriends/girlfriends, co-workers or even friends. Oftentimes, the judgments do come from total strangers. Regardless, knowing that the community as a whole is there while tough times present themselves and through the many dilemmas we are faced with is the only way the radical parenting community- and its varied parenting practices- can thrive. None of us can do it alone, no matter how strong and innovative we think we may be. We also need to remember that radical parenting takes many forms- whether the practice is presented in a tie-dyed, unschooled, vegetarian package or with parents that speak open about sexuality and encourage children to do a history report on the prison industrial complex or Malcolm X instead of Unicef. Families that live outside of the mainstream boxes are confronted with enough shit without being judged by other radical parents. There is room for us all and with open minds and support, together we can change the world.

“I’ll Meet You In Albuquerque”

2010-02-25T11:16:00.000-08:00

It never ceases to amaze me how death and loss and grief tend to shape and control the mind. Those first weeks were quite the testament to this and I am continually amazed at the shaping and controlling that has taken place in my head through it all. The most hurtful, painful, anger-inducing memories I had of him became grey and fuzzy and I was immediately brought back through a series of snap-shots that were shiny and pretty. Then suddenly, after the static-covered events of those days were set on fast-forward, he was dead.

I don't know if my mind and my heart took charge and rearranged things in order for me to protect my girls from the gruesome, violent and horribly awful ending of his life and the incidents that slowly led up to it over the last several years, or if this is one of those mysteries that I will never quite understand. I could blame his family, the lack of mental health services, the person who sold him the guns or the people who first introduced him to drugs. I could even blame myself, but there was no one who could take it back and change what happened. Regardless, the most random and wonderful memories crept up repeatedly over those first weeks- along with the most excruciating pain I have felt in my life.

I kept remembering details of my trip across the country with my girls in our old VW van and how I was anxiously looking forward to meeting him in Albuquerque on our way to our new property in Arkansas. I had never, in our entire relationship, been so excited to see him. I remember the fox and the coyote running across the freeway late that night in the middle of the desert with my girls asleep in the back seat, wishing he was there to see it so we could have some philosophical conversation and laugh about the significance of those two animals and what it must have meant. That was the last summer we spent together and the ending of his only year of sobriety. We spent that summer sitting out on our porch every night, surrounded by fireflies and thunderstorms before we headed back to California where everything quickly unraveled... where it all went grey and ended in that place of sleepless nights, chain-smoking and gut-wrenching pain; two little girls with too many questions to answer and too many emotions to comprehend.

I still have my evenings of visiting insomnia, along with bitterness and heartache on behalf of my children. I spent months with the girls in my bed, surrounded by his childhood toys and even his clothing that I had held onto; books on explaining suicide to kids and social security paperwork along with a death certificate stacked on my nightstand as a constant reminder, a psychic sucker punch that would greet me every morning. The memories I was so painfully flooded with those first weeks morphed into a pre-sleep collage that my mind set up. A repeating reel of images haunted me every night and consisted of both the best times of my life and the details of his sudden relapse and suicide.

My daughters were eventually ushered back to their own beds and the books and papers have been filed away, replaced by a small box of his ashes and pictures on our hallway altar. Chauffeuring to soccer practice and play dates transformed to shuttling to after school therapy appointments and planning weekend trips to grief camp. I worry about how his suicide, which happened immediately before he had planned to visit and take them camping, will influence their lives and their relationships. I worry about the extra burden I have been weighed down with as their mother and I worry that I will never be able to make it all OK for them. This is one injury that a kiss and a band aid can’t repair.

My mind has slowed down to a more tolerable place over the last several months and I am sleeping more, threw out the cigarettes and began putting food into my belly again. I am no longer holding it together in a false tower of emotional stability during daylight hours and then sneaking into the laundry room at night to crumble and sob in a heap on the floor. Thanks to hospice counselors, I don’t have to do this all alone and my lovely girls have someone other then their exhausted, mess of a mother to talk to. I can focus on the "bright" side of things like the unwavering friendships I have been blessed with, my plans for more traveling and this unknown future my girls and I have ahead of us. I am no longer desperately trying to understand the reasons behind his death. I no longer torture myself with futuristic visions of my daughters in dysfunctional relationships or addicted to drugs. And though I refuse to let his loss define or shape us as a family, it has changed us forever. We’re taking as much time as we need- one foot after the other- and will surely come out on the other side stronger and more powerful than ever before. Much like the Miwok legend of the fox and coyote, we’re creating a new world for ourselves and nothing can stand in our way.

Crazy accidental double exposure photos of Dave and Ava by Sara Sanger 2001 and Jessamyn Harris 2009.
Mourning photo of girls and I at Dave's memorial in the Phoenix Theater by Jessamyn Harris 2008

A Letter to Howard Zinn

2010-01-28T11:10:00.000-08:00

RIP Howard Zinn 1922-2010

Dearest Howard,

The world is mourning your loss today and attempting to comprehend the vastness of the empty space you leave behind. I can't stop thinking of the ways in which your wisdom and dedication to sharing the truth of America's history has forever changed me and carved me into the person I am today. I want to thank you.

It was in the early 1990's, while eagerly attending my first junior college courses that I was introduced to People's History. The instructor of the history class I was enrolled in informed us that your book was required reading, that it would shed lights upon the often forgotten and untold stories of those in our country who were not the winners; those who were not the heroes of the various battles we, as a nation, have faced. Your book shined a light on my own personal history as well and for that, I am forever grateful.

You may have heard this hundreds, maybe even thousands of times through your 87 years on our planet, but your teachings were the catalyst that shot me directly into my life as an activist. I devoured your book. And devoured it again when it was revised in its newest editions. And I cried. I cried in mourning of the people who stood so bravely before my time, only to be shot down- oftentimes quite literally- for working for a better world. I cried for the forgotten immigrant families from around the world and I was determined to somehow, in my measly little way, make sure their struggles were not in vain. A series of lights also ignited on a personal level when I realized that the uncontrollable angst and self-loathing in me weren't merely the norm for the youth of the day, but rather a result of the social constructs that were erected in order to keep poor women like me in our place. I no longer felt isolated or "crazy" for having the questions and feelings that came up in discussions about race and class and gender. And most importantly, through the knowledge I gleaned from your book, I found a community of others who were feeling the same.

Through the years, you came up repeatedly in conversations. After the war in Iraq began, your quote, "There is no flag large enough to cover the shame of killing innocent people", was secured to the bumper of the van that my children and I lived in while looking for housing. Strangers would often follow me to my destinations only to ask where the quote came from and so came opportunities for open dialogue about the state of the world- and so came a deeper sense of camaraderie and community in an often troubling and painful time in my life, and the life of many others across the planet.

I could write you volumes and critiques and reviews of the specifics of what you have written and how it has changed the course of history here in America, but somehow part of me knows- beyond a doubt- that you are cashing in your karmic currency and basking in the glory of the beautiful unknown for the work that you've done in all of our lives.

Cheers to you, Mr. Zinn. May you rest in the peace which you have earned.

Skunk Love

2010-01-27T16:47:00.000-08:00

The icy air pours through nearby windows as I write. A hat is pulled down to cover my cold ears, and a fleece blanket is around my shoulders to protect me from the elements. I am cold and exhausted from another night of restless sleep, and sip my coffee in hopes of managing a productive day. No, I am not writing from some impoverished refugee camp, but rather from the long-gone comforts of my Santa Rosa home where I have found myself the unwilling madam of an under-the-house skunk brothel.

According to Marin County's WildCare, skunk breeding season is in full swing. During this time, they say, male skunks are more excitable and spray more readily, while the females often spray to get rid of potential mates when they aren't feeling the love. With the weather miserably wet, skunks seek refuge in dry places like basements or crawl spaces under homes, emitting a romp-fest-induced stench of gaseous clouds along with all-night torturous screeching and thumping. It's enough to push patience for the furry little lovers over the edge.

When the aromatherapy candles have burned down and the boiling vinegar—meant to neutralize the wretched odor—can no longer be tolerated, it is time to evict little Pepe le Pew and his stinky concubines. Though first instincts are to call animal control and have the pests removed, this is not the most humane of choices. Not only are trappers legally forbidden to relocate the animals, and therefore will usually release the critters within 100 yards of the trap site, many are required to exterminate the animals. DIY eviction is an alternative.

Wildlife experts give this advice: scatter flour or baby powder around all possible points of entry in the afternoon. As the creatures exit the open spaces, foot prints will be detectable, indicating that it is time to tightly cover these openings to deter the skunks elsewhere. With rain and wind fairly prevalent this time of year, these attempts may be tricky and do indeed take patience. After confirming that the annoying intruders have vacated the premises, get to work boarding up entryways and maybe installing skunk-sized electric fences. Finally, the windows can be closed again and cozy, indoor wintertime activities can resume.

For more information about humane animal removal, call Marin County's WildCare, 415.453.1000; Sonoma County Wildlife Rescue, 707.526.9453; or the Wildlife Rescue Center of Napa County, 707.224.4295.

http://www.bohemian.com/bohemian/01.27.10/blast-1004.html

Fresh Breath

2010-01-20T11:36:00.000-08:00

Rose Logue, known to fans as Rose Harting until 2008, has won the hearts of many through her magnetic stage presence and her deeply soulful rendering of pop and R&B melodies from a petite 5-foot-6-inch frame. A native of Sonoma County, Logue has been singing and performing since childhood, most recently with the eponymous band she formed in 2007. Logue's spark has even graced the stages of Paris, France, where she lived and performed for several months in 2008. With her signature sparkly smile and untamable upbeat energy bursting from her, it is difficult to comprehend that Logue, nearly 34, suffers from cystic fibrosis (CF).

To date, there is no cure for CF, a life-threatening genetic disease that affects mucus levels in the lungs and pancreas, causing chronic infections and difficulty breathing. According to the National Cystic Fibrosis Foundation, the average life expectancy has increased slightly over the years to age 37, up from age 32 in 2000. With often grim statistics about battling CF, Logue continues to beat the odds and is one of many who depends on medications, air-clearance techniques and proper nutrition to maintain quality of life.

Diagnosed as a child, Logue is no stranger to the various complications and health issues that arise, and recently spent several days in a Santa Rosa hospital. "It is a part of living with the disease," Logue says, refusing to let it hinder her positive attitude. She instead focuses energy on family and friends, music, a fairy-tale romance with her long-lost high school sweetheart, David Martini, and, of course, finding a cure for the disease.

Until now, Logue's disease-curing efforts for CF organizations have concentrated primarily on fundraising through her musical contributions (she has participated in Detroit's Rock CF concert and recorded on an album for the Seattle CF Foundation, among others). This year, though, Logue has stepped it up a notch, aiming to kick CF to the curb by training for a half marathon to benefit 65 Roses, a CF charity that pays for research projects, medications and other treatments for those living with the disease.
"I am running those 13.1 miles to raise money for people with CF," Logue says. "But also to celebrate and be grateful for having the health that allows me to still do this. Having CF reminds you to live!"
The 65 Roses marathon takes place on Sunday, Jan. 31, in Miami, Fla. Donations can be made at www.firstgiving.com/roselogue.

http://www.bohemian.com/bohemian/01.20.10/blast-1003.html

Love Laws for 2010!

2009-12-30T12:09:00.000-08:00

Though we've mostly managed to keep laws off of our bodies and rosaries away from our ovaries, it is increasingly difficult to keep the church and state out of our bedrooms and away from our otherwise intimate relationships. Though many new and updated laws blast into effect as we ring in the New Year, the most interesting in the lot tend to focus on defining and protecting domesticity.

Starting on Jan. 1, 2010, same-sex Californian couples who can't legally marry in the Golden State can now jaunt off to such exotic and progressive states as Massachusetts, Vermont, Connecticut, New Hampshire and, yes, even Iowa to obtain marriages. Upon return to California, these unions will be recognized as legal and valid with the same rights, protections and benefits except for the right to legally refer to the contract by the title of "marriage."

While the bill, known formally as SB 54, won't legalize same-sex matrimony and abolish homophobia overnight, it is viewed by some gay-rights defenders as another tool to whittle away at the discriminatory laws against same-sex partners. Along with the Federal Supreme Court challenging Proposition 8 on Jan. 11, 2010, and the recently signed Hate Crimes Prevention Act (also known as the Matthew Shepard Act), which increases sentencing for hate-based violations starting in 2010, rights-advocates hope to have a stronger case for legalizing love in the great state of California.

Furthermore, to step the marriage rights movement up a notch, the proposed 2010 California Marriage Protection Act (CMPA) intends to crusade against the evils of divorce by deeming it illegal for couples in California to end marriages. By honing in on the hypocrisy around the issues of Prop. 8 proponents' desire to "protect marriage," the CMPA—spearheaded by comic John Marcotte and featuring such slogans as "Hell is eternal—just like your marriage was supposed to be"—hopes to gain enough signatures to secure its place on ballots later in 2010. What began as a satirical strategy for fighting discrimination has gained to support of conservatives and liberals alike.

Other relationship-related laws ringing in the California new year include new laws AB 532 and AB 14. While AB 532 allows police to secure search warrants in order to remove guns or other deadly weapons from homes in the case of suspected or reported domestic disputes or mental health incidents, AB 14 grants police the right to declare any vehicle suspected for use in prostitution a nuisance and can impound it for up to 30 days, therefore inviting lawmakers not only into our bedrooms but also into our cars.

North Bay Bohemian: http://www.bohemian.com/bohemian/12.30.09/blast-0952.html

Cottura Della Famiglia

2009-12-23T17:51:00.000-08:00

Sundays in the kitchen with Food Not Bombs, a love story

Several large plastic bags filled with French loaves, polenta rounds and garlic sourdough are stacked on my front porch most Sunday mornings. On a lucky day, a few paper grocery bags bursting with apple pies, tiramisu and boxed cookies accompany them. If the gods are smiling on me, my daughters are still asleep while I mosey around in my pajamas and geeky lavender slippers sipping tea, Tin Hat Trio on the stereo, Nag Champa wafting through the air. At some point, I set down my chipped tea mug and clean the kitchen before the Food Not Bombs cooks, due to arrive in the early afternoon, stumble into my disheveled home.

The national Food Not Bombs movement has evolved over the years and through the changing times like any grassroots organization. Founded in 1980 by antinuclear activists in Cambridge, Mass., Food Not Bombs established itself as a direct-action group with the agenda of sharing food and information with people in public spaces without permits and without hierarchical organization. The group focuses on the preparation of mostly vegan and always vegetarian food to instill a further sense of nonviolence; no animals need to be killed in order for diners to fill their bellies.

With chapters now branching out across the globe, peace-minded folks everywhere gather in private kitchens to save visually unappealing but perfectly safe and healthy produce from compost piles and dumpsters, creating meals for hungry and less fortunate community members. In a country that wastes ungodly amounts of money on preparing for and recovering from wars while hungry people walk the streets, it is absurd to Food Not Bombs groups that so much perfectly edible food would be thrown out.

The North Bay Food Not Bombs movement began with humble, short-lived efforts during the first Gulf War and was reborn in the late 1990s at the height of the local Police Accountability and Earth First! movements. Bagels with hummus, along with hearty soups and modest salads, were served on Sunday afternoons in Santa Rosa's Courthouse Square while budding revolutionaries gathered to analyze the latest mass media news, organized actions at Headwater's Forest in Humboldt County or recapped the highlights of recent punk and hip-hop shows. These days, as word of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan are accompanied by the healthcare debate and immigration issues, the conversations are tinted with a sense of overwhelm, yet focus more on local, sustainable remedies for the world's nightmarish problems.

I feel eternally indebted to Food Not Bombs, and so have offered my tiny Santa Rosa kitchen as a community cooking site on countless Sundays for over six years. After leaving an unhealthy relationship in 2002, I found myself homeless with two little girls, then ages two and six, in tow. With no nearby family and a bank account gutted by my drug-addicted ex, the only place I knew I could turn for food and support was the Food Not Bombs House, which was then located on South E Street in Santa Rosa.

This is where my daughters learned to cook and began to understand the value and importance of community. I spent Sundays tearing bread apart for stuffing, slicing onions until my eyes nearly bled and talking smack about racist cops, the pending war in Iraq and the latest gossip about which Earth First! activist was sleeping with which bass-playing punk rocker and who had sold out by dating a corporate accountant.

Now in my own home across town, I never know who or what to expect as I hear that first knock on the door each Sunday around 2pm. Some days, it's a group of young SRJC students, grasping banjos, Foucault tucked under arms, just starving for talk of revolution. Other days, it's a neighbor and his children who come to cook with me as we share parental anecdotes and laugh over our backyard chickens. In one sense, I have grown from a young and eager revolutionary to being a pseudo-historian, weaving my radical opinions and personal experiences into stories that are shared while slicing zucchini or opening a gazillion cans of tomato sauce for a very creative minestrone soup.

Quite often, the produce is the last element to make an appearance. This is usually a result of poor communication on the FNB listserv. Some sweet soul—whoever has a car—is enlisted to dart across town to Community Market and snatch the crates of produce they have so kindly saved for us. Upon return, the driver's efforts are met with excitement or amusement. What exactly does one do with eight pounds of okra, 16 cucumbers and two crates of browning romaine? Or what happens when some well-meaning farmer donates 20 cases of rotting corn? The romaine is stripped to its core while the corn is picked through and the remaining, bug-infested ears are buried in the backyard.

Sure, there's a Food Not Bombs handbook that can help guide cooks through food salvaging and preparation, but after nearly two decades of FNB volunteers whipping up and serving food to hungry mouths in Sonoma County, recipes have been passed down through the generations of activists much like elder Italian women share kitchen wisdom with grandchildren. Each time the cooking changes locations, a new seasoning is discovered. At my house, the rosemary stuffing would be accompanied by curried mashed potatoes. Across town, the potatoes are heavy with fresh garlic and the stuffing is covered with onion salt.

On a recent Sunday, the lucky hens cluck gleefully at the wilted dinosaur kale we've tossed to them and we roll up our sleeves and get to work. The CD has been switched over to a mix of the Coup and Animal Collective as laughter and steam intermingle in my overcrowded, tiny cooking space; mushroom stems are scattered over the table, squishy tomatoes leak juice down cutting boards and across countertops. As always, we focus on basics, lucky to have purchased an obscene amount of organic brown rice from the Redwood Empire Food Bank that will serve as a filler for the soup we've got boiling away on the stovetop.

A young, barefoot volunteer pulls some goji berries and kombucha from his knapsack and offers them to me, insisting that they'll help with my fatigue while I peel potatoes into the sink. Our conversation has turned from seasoning recommendations and disappointment with Obama to a discussion of herbal remedies, Vipassana meditation retreats and the therapeutic use of psychedelics. An always chipper and hip female artist in the group suggests we watch a movie while the pots cook away in the oven, and we move from the kitchen to watch Letter to the President, a documentary about the birth of rap music. We wrap up in blankets with an almost Thanksgiving-like smell in the air and let the film unfold.

After the film ends, the other cooks help me sweep my filthy floor and load the pots, pans and serving utensils into the truck parked out front. We say our goodbyes. They are headed to serve the food in Courthouse Square, as they do every Sunday evening, and I am headed back into my pajamas to call it a night. After years of involvement, I have decided to reclaim Sundays for myself. The Santa Rosa Food Not Bombs food prep is moving on from the warm confines of my humble home and into its next incarnation with a new generation of energetic and dedicated activists.

I make some tea and sit at the table in my now-quiet kitchen. I think about how this room has been occupied by punks, hippies, school teachers, artists, parents, neighborhood kids, students, musicians, doctors, athletes, carpenters and everyone in between for years while my daughters thrived among them. I think about all that we have learned from them and the FNB movement. They may not be the feisty Italian grandmothers I might have longed for, but they are certainly my family.

North Bay Bohemian, December 23, 2009:

http://www.bohemian.com/bohemian/12.23.09/eats-0951.html

Love in the Time of Swine Flu

2009-11-25T11:32:00.000-08:00

All relationships have their issues, many of which tend to increase as the relationships falter, combust or otherwise diminish. Going through a break-up or separation in a small community can be rough—people talk, the ex makes appearances before morning coffee, sends cryptic text messages or is otherwise annoying or hurtful when what is prayed for is a simple disappearing act. Imagine, then, that upon a break-up it is discovered that the insignificant other had been canoodling elsewhere and passed on an embarrassing parting gift in the form of a sexually transmitted disease (STD). Throw a little H1N1 virus into the mix, and the humiliation can be potentially life threatening and very, very expensive.

According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), those with weakened immune systems or pre-existing illness, such as sinus infections, pneumonia and STDs, are at a higher risk for more serious health complications when exposed to the H1N1 virus. In addition, CDC's latest report, released last week, illustrates that over 19 million people are infected with STDs each year in the United States, with a 12 to 18 percent increase in 2008, depending on the specific STD. With invisible viruses and bacteria creeping around like little apocalyptic parasites, it is surprising that more sexually active adults are not flocking to drugstores for surgical masks, condoms or even cruising eBay for chastity belts.

For those not willing to be secluded in celibate isolation until CDC eradicates all infectious diseases, there are simple things to do in addition to receiving the H1N1 vaccine and ingesting near-lethal doses of immune-boosting zinc and vitamin C. First and most importantly, stock up on condoms. Most family planning clinics provide an abundance of them for free; just show up and ask. Free samples are even available through major condom manufacturers' websites. It is always better to be safe than sorry with an uncomfortable itch.

Secondly, visit one of the many local clinics for STD testing and/or treatment. Planned Parenthood Golden Gate offers walk-in testing hours for women and men at its clinics in Napa (1735 Jefferson St., Napa; 707.252.8050), Marin (2 H St., San Rafael; 800.967.7526) and Sonoma (1370 Medical Center Drive, Rohnert Park; 800.967.7526), as does Women's Health Specialists (4415 Sonoma Hwy., Ste. #D, Santa Rosa; 707.537.1171). All testing and treatment services are offered at low or no cost according to income. Avoid a long, cold winter alone, and get your junk checked out.

http://www.metrosantacruz.com/bohemian/11.25.09/blast-0947.html

Street Talking

2009-11-11T17:46:00.000-08:00

New no 'Street Hiring' signs in Graton point to continued conflict between concept of hiring hall and reality of day laborers

The presence of migrant workers in the west Sonoma County town of Graton has a long history, beginning with Chinese immigrants at the turn of the 20th century and then again when the black roller clouds of the dustbowl forced farmers west during the Great Depression. Unlike the unemployed men in urban areas who sold apples on street corners to support their families, men who found themselves migrating west to places like Graton were most likely waiting on street corners for work picking the apples that were for sale elsewhere.

A perfect destination when what's needed at the end of the week is a fancy cocktail and quick escape from the grind, Graton has evolved vastly over the last decade. What was once considered a rough-and-tumble backwoods town was transformed into a wine country hot spot with the help of developer Orrin Thiessen and his Downtown Graton Revitalization project.

Nestled at an intersection of Sonoma County's vineyards, apple orchards and redwood trees, Graton's downtown now provides visitors three blocks of award-winning dining, gallery openings and local businesses. Despite the outward appearance of the town's relative calm, however, is the behind-the-scenes, hushed murmur of its residents, discussing what to do with the problem of day laborers' continued presence on the streets which, some argue, clashes greatly with the charming image Graton would like to maintain.
During recent morning visits, a dozen men casually stood on street corners, appearing to be patiently waiting for employers to stop and offer them a day's work. Just down Bowen Street, however, the majority of day laborers congregated at the grounds of the Graton Day Labor Center (GDL) in hopes of connecting with local employers through the services that the center has been providing, with community support, for over five years.

According to the town's community e-letter, that some workers do not utilize the new center—which recently celebrated its two-year anniversary at the permanent site—and continue to "loiter" in this otherwise quiet town has been the focus of concern. After many adamantly rejected the idea of handing out cards asking workers to leave the streets, some residents came together just before harvest season to install no street hiring signs in hopes of deterring those seeking work and their potential employers from using Graton Road as a hiring spot.
News of the sign installation was reported in the West County Gazette under the dramatic heading of "Defending OUR Home Town: Graton Defends Downtown from Loitering Laborers." However, the biggest complaints expressed have been over men making suggestive comments toward passersby or leaving trash behind. After the article was posted online, its author, the Gazette's Graton columnist HolLynn D'lil, changed her tone.

"Bottom line, the issue is very minor," she stated in response to a query from the Bohemian. "I would not feel comfortable with escalating or emphasizing a situation that is actually working well and has been for decades." She would instead, like the focus to be on the planning of the town's community garden. "If there is a story here, it's about how Graton is becoming green."

"It is a very complex issue," says GDL's lead organizer Davin Cardenas. "Graton has had a history with day laborers since before many of the businesses and residents have been there. Yet large groups of men on the streets can be intimidating for some people." The center and its workers have had extensive, open and ongoing dialogue with many of Graton's residents and business owners about issues that have come up, including the recent decision to install the no street hiring signs, which were paid for by community members and local business owners.

Despite his center's efforts to organize workers, Cardenas recognizes their freedom to gain employment however they choose. "We practice an explicit system of inclusion at GDL. All we know is that if people are out of luck and need an organized way to help find them work, we're here to help. If they want to find work in other ways, they have that right." Much of the seasonal work in the area, such as the annual grape harvest, is contracted independently, and GDL has little influence over that particular hiring process.

Still, Cardenas feels that workers who remain on the streets could benefit greatly from what his center offers, including a health clinic and English classes. One of only some 50 official hiring halls nationwide, GDL also provides training for workers and translation for employers, and advocates for safe work conditions and living wages of $12 or more per hour for day laborers.

The center also serves as an unofficial hub of intercultural bonding, despite a history of regionalism between day laborers from different areas. Contrary to assumptions, the workers are not all just passing through Sonoma County from Mexico, and not all speak Spanish as their primary language. Many come from as far away as Guatemala and the state of Oaxaca in southern Mexico, and more are U.S.-born and bus into town from nearby Santa Rosa. A variety of Spanish language dialects are spoken, depending on region of origin. And, yes, even English.

"Learning or improving English skills and playing soccer are honestly the two main things that get workers here to set aside difference and strengthen the camaraderie," Cardenas laughs. "None of them want to sit around and listen to me lecture about organizing."

A local business owner whose shared photography studio sits just down the block from Graton Day Labor on Bowen Street, Michelle Feileacan has noticed a big decrease of workers on the street corners since GDL opened its doors. Having hired from the center, Feileacan says she is satisfied with her experience. Still, she would like to see more workers reap the benefits of the center's advocacy, not strictly because of the occasional cat-calling she's received during her morning jaunts down the street for coffee or to reduce the garbage sometimes left behind by those hanging out, but because of the resources GDL makes available.
From GDL board member Terry Winter's perspective, the motivation behind the community's "No Street Hiring" signs was to make the center more visible and to provide employers with reliable workers. "The key to getting workers off of the streets is to get the employers to the center," he says. "Get them here once, and they'll come back." Yet many continue to hire off of the streets because their dollar goes further when they set the pay rate instead of having GDL set it for them.

Investing time and money into installing the no street hiring signs was not simply motivated by the desire to move workers to the center, but to remedy the situation that many residents and business owners see as a nuisance. "Many of the men on the streets are not there just to find work," Winter says. "Some are just there to simply hang out, as many people do in places like Mexico and Central America. It's a cultural thing."
Unlike north Santa Rosa's Fulton area, where workers and employers alike have endured harassment and even threats by hate groups such as the Minutemen Project, Graton sees little aggression, and residents remain mostly tolerant of the men who remain on the streets. However, there is still an expectation that the center is responsible for the migrant workers being in town. "We never believed we'd get all hiring off the streets like the community wanted," Winter says. "Some of the community expectations are a bit unrealistic. In fact, if a Latino were involved in an incident or crime, the labor center would be looked at."

The issues remain more complex than simply enticing workers to change locations or celebrating cultural diversity. Many suggest holding the street employers accountable. Others even consider whether or not men hanging out along street corners should be considered a problem, begging the question that no liberal do-gooder wants to address: Would men on the streets be looked at the same if they were recently unemployed white neighbors?

"If the American people were in such a dire economic crisis and headed to Canada to find work," Winter says, "we'd be seen as patriotic, not as a proble

Printed in the North Bay Bohemian:
http://www.bohemian.com/bohemian/11.11.09/news-0945.html

Rad Dad Reading, Book Zoo November 6, 2009

2009-11-06T17:00:00.000-08:00

Tomas Moniz, Rad Dad Extraordinaire, asked me to read at the Rad Dad Zine Release Party in Oakland at the amazing Book Zoo at 6395 Telegraph Avenue. I wasn't sure what to read so I whipped this up the night before...

My piece in Rad Dad 15

2009-10-01T17:00:00.000-07:00

“Mama, I really miss my dad.” These words, followed by an eight-year-old sized sigh and spoken ever-so-sweetly at bedtime, caught me off-guard.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, hoping- rather selfishly- that she didn’t actually want to talk about it on this particular night, with my then-boyfriend waiting not-so-patiently for me in the next room.

“No. I just really miss him. I just really wish I had a dad. Good night.”

Conversations like this are a new, heart-wrenching phenomenon in my home, and have recently been popping up after a day of my daughters spending time with the other children-and their dads- in my community. My ex-partner- the father of my 8yo and step-father of my 13yo- had been mostly absent- and inconsistent at best- from my daughters’ lives for the first five years after we separated. He made his big come-back, starting with child-support payments and attempts at mending his relationships with them throughout year six which also included his first visit in years. He had even planned a second trip to visit, this time to take the girls camping and to spend some time with old friends. Instead, he fell apart emotionally and killed himself the week the kids expected to see him. His sudden, violent and shocking death brought a whole new level of parental worry, anxiety and fierce mama-bear protective instincts directly to my core- along with a whole new longing for male connection into the life of my lovely little girls.

It also brought an official end to over a decade of the confusion and pain that comes along with knowing and loving someone with mental illness and drug addiction. But, though it is painful and even shameful to admit, there is a dark corner of my heart that feels a sense of relief that he is gone. Now my daughters will no longer get their hopes up and be let down. Now my daughters know why he doesn’t call or come to visit. Now I know I am really in this alone.

My small family has its own unique dynamics. I have no close family nearby, my teenager spends the weekends with her bio dad while my 8yo remains with me. We live alone, and my relationships are few and far between. We live in an amazing neighborhood full of great people who all have children- and who all also have fathers living in their homes. My little one likes to imagine herself living with one of the more “normal” families we know and completely romanticizes the idea of having a dad to take her fishing, to fix her bike and to do other ‘gender-specific’ activities with her. This has been a challenge for me. As much as I believe in confronting patriarchy and raising strong, independent women, I also understand the value of having positive male role-models to balance things out. She has no shortage of male adults in her life but as many of them settle down and start having families of their own, she often asks if they will still have time for their relationships with her.

Naturally, I try to provide consistence in her life. After all, statistics clearly show that fatherless children are more likely to abuse drugs, be sexually promiscuous, and drop out of school. It is challenging enough to feed the kids, pay the bills, help with homework and play referee, without obsessing over recent studies that seem to be designed for the sole purpose of blaming single moms- and their children- for more of

America

’s problems. I am raising women in a male-dominated culture- young women who’s most present male influence was inconsistent, mentally ill and shot himself instead of taking them camping. Throw that in with the complexities of a social life or even a love life and you can see where things become a tricky balancing act.

Over a decade of solo-parenting (and occasionally trying to date) has reinforced my belief that although it is my full responsibility to provide my children with stability, the men that make conscious efforts to build relationships with fatherless kids have a responsibility to them as well. Too often, I have had the experience of dating men who are naïvely excited about dating a woman with children only to end up feeling threatened or insecure about the fact that I will not introduce them until the relationship is “established.” My kids, therefore, rarely meet the men that I date. It can be difficult to understand that raising children isn’t always a day at the beach and I often question the motives of men who want a casual relationship and yet want to meet my daughters. Men have expressed to me that they need to know that they’ll “like” my kids before they can get serious with me, which for me is a no brainer- my kids are great! Of course they’d love them! I am personally more concerned about their communication skills and emotional availability first. Complex and even painful situations can arise in any family and it takes twice as much compassion, fierce love and hard work to move through these times with grace and confidence if you are a single mother. For a man to pick this as a time to back away and take space for himself is not always appropriate, but, for me, has unfortunately been the status quo. This only reinforces the stereotypical beliefs that fatherless children have about men, which is not good for anyone. At the same time, however, the very few men that do make it through my so-called “trial period” don’t always understand the parenting/dating dynamics that can be so complex for single moms to navigate through. Again, we have twice as much work to do, with no partner available for support or companionship at the end of the long, often challenging days we work our ways through.

So what can you do if you find yourself interested in pursuing something with that great single mom you met at the Healthcare Rally? You can talk to her, follow her lead and communicate honestly and openly about your fears, reservations and concerns. Pace yourself and don’t dive in head first, panic and back out when things get tough a few months down the road. Ask her what is appropriate for her and her children instead of making assumptions about boundary-setting, interacting with the kiddos or household rules.

In a perfect world, I would not have had the journey of guiding my kids through the abandonment, heartbreak and the grief that they have been faced with. I would have made better choices about who would be a part of our lives and would be walking through life with emotional and financial ease myself. But, as we all know, we don’t live in a perfect world and the most that any of us can hope for is to provide consistency, unconditional love, strong values and laughter for our children and to maybe even have some left over for ourselves at the end of the day.

Hope?

2008-11-04T05:53:00.000-08:00

I am feeling very emotional. And I can't sleep.

I have tried really hard to remain calm and optimistic about this year's elections- partly because I have been trying to keep my little family strong after our recent loss(es)- and partly because, despite the major shock and disappointment of our last presidential elections, I want to believe that the American people have had enough, have seen the light, and are finally willing to work for change. Mostly, though, because I, too, have caught the Obama HOPE fever, and I am afraid of losing it.

Now, I am not one to worship the man like a Messiah. There are few people in this world that I believe exude such God-like qualities (my kids, The Dalai Lama, maybe Amy Goodman and Elizabeth Stinson....). I don't think the man is perfect, without flaws or superhuman. He is a politician, after all. What I do think, and what I think we are ALL desperately hoping for, is that change is around the corner. I am hoping that he is going to give all of us the room and space to continue working diligently on the issues near and dear to us- with little or no resistance. I am hoping that his presence in the oval office will inspire people who have been marginalized and hopeless to stand up for what they believe in and finally feel supported. But what I am hoping for most of all, is that my children- one of which has only lived in a Bush-Controlled America- will have some of their worries relieved.

The entire world didn't get as fucked up as it is solely because of Bush, but just look at how much has happened in the last 8 years! We watched Bush- immediately after his inauguration- pull funding out of family planning clinics world wide- particularly in Africa, where those clinics played an enormous role in HIV and AIDS prevention and treatment. We watched America grieve the losses of September 11th, only to turn around and watch our young men and women persuaded into fighting this never-ending war in Iraq. And for what? Certainly not all of the benefits they were promised... Cheap gas? I think not. We have watched community based organizations come under fire and accused of "terrorism" simply because they want to make change. We have watched social service programs, small medical clinics and community schools either close or have money pulled away resulting in less services for those who need them. We've seen more poor air quality warnings, clear cut forests and proposals to dump nuclear waste on sacred land than ever before.

I am anxious. You see, something in the back of my mind is tugging at me, saying, "what if... what if..." and it makes me sick. What if McCain somehow weasels his way in and we have him and that idiot woman "in charge"? What if Prop 8 passes here in California? What is that teaching our kids? What if Prop 4 passes, and brings my daughters one step away from having control over their bodies? What if? What if? Would any of us even bother voting again? I want to believe that people have come out of their Bush-induced stupor and that we finally realize that we deserve better than another crazy-ass, choice-hating biggot... and laws that infringe upon our rights. I really, really do. I know you are all with me on this. Lets cross our fingers, meditate on HOPE and remember we're all in this together.

Chaneling Frida

2008-11-02T07:14:00.000-08:00

I was lucky enough to see the Frida Kahlo exhibit at The Moma on July 19th this past summer. I cried through the entire thing...

I later discovered that July 19th was the day that Ava's father left a suicide note and disappeared...

His body was found 2 weeks later.

Living Oprah's Best Life

2008-10-14T07:20:00.000-07:00

Dear Oprah,

Last week, while visiting my best friend in the hospital over the course of a few days, I familiarized myself with your magazine. You really have come a long way and I want to applaud you for all of your achievements. I remember watching your talk show as a kid and I remember how "On Fire For Oprah" my mom would get after a particularly inspiring episode- it was just like how fired up she'd be after a really, really good AA meeting. She'd sometimes parade around for days preaching the word of AA- and Oprah- to whoever would stop long enough to listen to her. You really made an impact.

Now you see, Oprah, the reason I am taking the time to even write this, is that I have a small bone to pick. Your whole "Live Your Best Life" motto is pretty great, but makes people like me feel a tad bit bitter. How do you live your best life if you're not a gazillionaire and can't afford daily massages, personal chefs, drivers, maids, and the countless other luxuries that you benefit from? And what if, despite your greatest of all efforts, living your "Best Life" only means that your life just sucks a wee bit less than it did before you spent the $4.50 at the Memorial Hospital gift shop to buy "O" Magazine while visiting your sick friend?

I mean, think about it Oprah. You really are selling the whole "money can buy happiness" thing, and I think I'm finally getting it. Shit, I'd be STOKED to have a tenth of what you've got. I'd be happy if I had a nanny so I didn't have to drive my kids' asses all over town before and after driving my own ass to a job where 75% of the people I am supposed to be helping end up pissing me off every day. I'd be happy if someone else prepared all of my meals, cleaned my house and went to Trader Joe's for me so I didn't have to stand in line with bitchy housewives quietly judging my cart full of cheap wine and frozen veggie corn dogs. I'd be thrilled to have someone to force me out of bed and into the gym, yoga class, track, etc every morning, followed by a massage and a refreshing Acai Berry smoothie. I'd love to have someone wax me, do my fucked up, white girl afro and apply my make-up so it makes me look 10 years younger. And contrary to my bitter, smart-ass, poor, single mom tone, nothing would make me happier than to give deserving people millions of dollars for doing good work in the world. Vacations to 5 star resorts would also make me very, very, very happy.

The problem is, Oprah, you're rich and I am broke. You see, Living My Best Life means that I try do little things like not judging myself for eating salame when I'm drunk. I spend money I don't have on therapy so I can talk about how to try and Live My Best Life. I let myself upgrade to 4 movies at a time on Netflix. And I talk my kids into taking the garbage out a couple of times a week so I can have 3 more free minutes of time to think of ways to get rich so I can buy happiness, too. So far, my options are winning the lottery, marrying a prince, robbing a bank or returing one of those emails I got regarding an estate I have inherited from someone in Saudi Arabia.

Someday, Oprah, My Best Life will be Oprah-worthy and you may have me on your show, handing over a check for a gazillion dollars. I, like you, will inspire viewers and readers of "O" Magazine with tales of "How She Did It: Rags to Riches in Our Backyard." and I'll make you proud. I'll do all of those things that are supposed to make me happy and they'll finally work! It will be a miracle and I will skip through fields of flowers in white capris, Living My best Life... once and for all!

Love,
Dani

Dave's Memorial

2008-08-28T00:00:00.000-07:00

Dear Friends,

It is with great sadness that I am notifying you about the death of Dave Young, who chose to end his life just one month ago in Hot Springs, Arkansas.

Many of us knew him as an extremely sensitive, compassionate and hilariously funny soul, despite his on-going struggle with his demons that haunted him through so much of his life. He had a passion for justice, love for (and great taste in) music and the ability to find the humor in the most ridiculous situations. He leaves behind his wife, Anne, of Hot Springs, her son Kian and his lovely former step-daughter Xenia and his beautiful and amazing daughter Ava. His parents Andree and David Young of Petaluma and his sister Rachel are also left behind, along with many Aunts, Uncles and his grandmothers.

Despite this heartbreaking ending, his closest friends and I would like to extend an invitation to the friends and family of Dave- please join us on Sunday September 14th at 2pm at The Phoenix Theater in Petaluma to remember the person who touched our lives, made us laugh and brought so many of us together in the life-long friendships that remain.

I am asking old friends of Dave to write a story or memory and contribute photos of Dave that his old friend and classmate, Alicia Feltman can then put in a scrapbook that will be given to Xenia and Ava. Alicia can be reached at alicia@laladesign.com.

Also, if you'd like to make a CD compilation of songs that you knew Dave loved, we will be playing music during the potluck after the memorial (Please bring light snacks if you can). The CDs will be given to the girls as well.

Plans for a post-memorial wake of sorts are still in the making and will be announced at the memorial. Please contact me at o_dani_girl@yahoo.com if you have any questions.

Please hold Dave's family and friends in your hearts during this sad time and please forward this message far and wide.

With love,

Dani, Xenia and Ava

My Latest Article in the Latest Peace Press

2008-01-23T11:06:00.000-08:00

Supporting The Homeless Troops

Once or twice a week, I am visited at work by a client who stops in to get a cup of coffee and check in with me about how he is doing. Nick, as I’ll call him here, is a 54 year-old homeless Vietnam Veteran who has been living outside for several years. His valuables all fit into a brown backpack that I gave him two months ago and the sleeping bag and tarp he uses to protect himself against the elements every night get stashed in a plastic bag in the bushes or hidden in dry spots in vacant buildings. Nick once had his own business and a family he adored, but the untreated PTSD he suffers from, as a result of serving as a combat troop in Vietnam, led him to self medicate with alcohol and landed him homeless. He, like many of the homeless veterans I work with, chooses to sleep outdoors, away from the loudness and chaos of the overcrowded shelters because it is “too much to take.” It has taken Nick all of these years since he returned home from Vietnam to finally ask for help.

Many of the newer veterans, who have served in Iraq and Afghanistan, could easily be heading down the same path. Most that I have spoken with are suffering from severe PTSD and anger at the military for the plethora of broken promises that were used to convince them to join in the first place. One young veteran that I speak with on a regular basis served three tours in Iraq, only to come home to limited employment offers and no affordable housing options. Another, who has extensive medical training, witnessed so much bloodshed as a medic in Iraq that his PTSD has made it impossible for him to ever work in the medical field again. And still another young man who served in Afghanistan is suffering from such severe anxiety attacks and PTSD that he drinks himself to sleep every night just so he can find some peace.

Most of the returning troops that I speak with have little idea of what benefits they are eligible for and many more have too much pride, shame or depression to even seek the help they deserve. There are also a growing number of young veterans who have been dismissed from the military because of “panic attacks” or “psychological disorders” and have been given an Other Than Honorable Discharge, which excludes them from many of the veterans benefits or services that they, too deserve. They are left feeling overwhelmingly frustrated, angry and wondering why it is that their grandfathers were given jobs and support upon return from World War II and they are given nothing.

It is so easy to get overwhelmed when listening to first hand accounts of what the never-ending “Global War on Terror” is doing to the world and how it is affecting the lives of so many people here in our community. I constantly have to remind myself that that there is some hope. The fact that many of these returning troops are already asking for help is a big sign that the healing and support they need will shift things into a more positive gear. Also, groups like Iraq Veterans Against The War (www.ivaw.org) are providing a forum and a safe space for many of these returning troops to discuss their experiences and to support each other through the difficult task of returning home. Hopefully with the support of the anti-war movement, these young men won’t wait 30 years to speak out and seek help like my dear new friend Nick and a growing number of men like him.

Four Years of War in Iraq- Peace March, San Francisco 3/07

2007-04-03T19:07:00.000-07:00

africa photos by liz seward

2007-03-01T12:30:00.000-08:00

Dani and Massai kids- Kenya January 2007

Dani at Diani Beach, Kenya February 2007

Dani, Xenia, Ava- Diani Beach, Kenya 2007

Dunia Mbadala Yawezekana

2007-02-17T13:05:00.000-08:00

I have been home from kenya for about two weeks but in addition to adjusting to the time zone and weather differences, I am also adjusting to the cultural differences that I was so happy to escape while in Africa.

I have a lot to write about and I promise I'll have something within the next week, as I am doing a presentation at the Peace and Justice Center next Thursday, as well as at New College of California (In SF and SR) in the near future.

I will also have the rest of my photos posted at flickr by the end of the weekend! In the meantime, here are some photos to hold you over...

In Solidarity,

Dani

Dunia Mbadala Yaweezekana / Another World Is Possible

2007-02-17T12:22:00.000-08:00

nairobi to chicago in 87637495009090000 seconds

2007-02-04T05:16:00.000-08:00

tuesday evening was spent in the theif-trap we call the mombasa/nairobi train, that on the paricular occasion took 17 hour through the choking heat and humidity to bring us back to nairobi, where we packed and sorted our bags for a thursday afternoon departure headed back home via dubai. after 5 hours of a xanax-accompanied flight to dubai, we stopped for a few hours and headed back to nyc where the sleeping pill i popped somewhere over saudi arabia only worked- and very heavily at that- for about 3 hours before i woke somewhere over europe to our airplane bouncing along. somewhere in the 12th hour of the 14 hour flight, i began crying. i am not sure i it was from watching 'walk the line' for the 5th time, imagining myself plumeting to my death into the freezing atlantic, or the fact that i was coming home to deal with all of the shit i had so eagerly left behind. either way, i cried until landing and had to drag my zombie-lik kids through customs and immigration, with liz nowhere to be seen (hopefully not missing her connecting flight back to ca).

all went well in the ny airport and as i approached a taxi to take me to get my bags in brooklyn and then on to penn station, i got snubbed for some snotty women in suits. ahhhh... america.

i arrived with my sleeping beauties in penn station, several hours early for the train to sana rosa. the ticket lady loved us and gifted us with a pass to the 1st class business lounge so we could drink free soda, watch tv and sleep. the train left promptly at 4pm and after the beautiful train ride along the hudson river, an announcement comes via our sarcastic and funny train conductor, informing us that somewhere near erie, pennsylvnia there was a major freight derailment that will delay us in buffalo for about 2-3 hours. as my layover in chicago was supposed tobe 4 hours, i felt hopeful that i'd still get to visit with mickey for a few minutes and have time to catch the train to california. however, news of one derailment turns to two... followed by news of a broken track, a frozen train engine in ohio and a gas leak somwhere in indiana. the 3 hours delay turns into 8 and i no-doubt miss my train, arriving in chicago at 6:30pm instead of 10am.

lucky for me, mickey returned to the station and accompanied us to the fancy hotel that amtrak put us up in and spent the better part of the night at my hotel, watching the kids sleep and discussing death and existentialism over chicago pizza and root beer. this morning, we'll drag the kids into the freezing cold to an art museum and then i'll be on my way to the train station for my 2pm departure with the cab fare and food money amtrak also gave me. i should be in santa rosa at 8pm on tuesday.. totally exhausted and ready for my bed.

this hasbeen quite a journey that although is exhausting and frustrating at times- i am going to be sad to see end.

see you all soon. xo

mombasa

2007-01-30T14:14:00.000-08:00

we all have horribly uneven sunburns.

my stomach hurts.

it is f-ing hot and f-ing humid.

tuk tuks are the best transportation ever.

mombasa looks and feels more like what i imagine morocco is like than what the rest of kenya is like.

liz, the kids and i are sitting in a stuffy internet place to pass time before we head back to nairobi via the sketchy ass train with no electricity and bandits climbing through windows tonight.

i have visited a tropical paradise, two hindu temples and several mombasa markets in thge last several days.

it is hard to find vegetarian food in a mostly muslim city.

however, it is easy to find vegetarian food in the hindu neighborhoods.

the water runs brown at first from the fancy hotel faucets where we were staying until this orning.

xenia wants to convert to islam so she can dress in tradition muslim dress for school when we get home.

train tonight, nairobi tomorrow, dubai the next day, then nyc, then the train to cal until monday night.

i miss my bed.
so much to tell you all.

destruction in nairobi

2007-01-26T17:23:00.000-08:00

the rains down in africa

2007-01-25T19:30:00.000-08:00

it hasn't rained in about a week and i am thankful for the clothes i have washed that have been allowed to dry in the scorching sun. i am also thankful for the deficit in puddles of standing water- i haven't been bitten by a mosquito in over a week! and i am super tan.

we leave tonight (friday) by train to mombasa. the irish couple we have been with since day 3, the 15 french-canadian students and the two spanish guys who shared their rosemary cheese with us will all be heading there with us. i can't wait.

the bulldozers came again on wednesday night. this time, they took down EVERYTHING in the settlement across the fence and even re-bulldozed the first batch of homes in order to break up the metal and wood to prevent people from rebuilding. they arrived with a truck of about 16 people with guns and sticks, who beat residents down from the entrance to get in. they then stood on buildings with their giant guns and people had no choice but to leave. the most consistent estimate of the span of inhabiting this plot of land is 20 years. twenty years of building a community and 1000 people are displaced. unbelievable. the woman i spoke to the night of the infamous teargassing was there in the morning yesterday when i walked over with reporters from the bbc. i, along with several independent journalists and a housing advocate from the national lawyers guild in seattle interviewed her and a handful of others and this is the story we got:
the people living there were PAYING RENT. yes, they were living there LEGALLY. apparently, the owner is some elderly woman whose children have been managing the property for her. when the property sold to the new owner, he gave them 30 days to vacate... and sent the police in with bulldozers the next day. some women were threatened with arrest when they returned to gather belongings for their children, who can no longer go to school because they have been displaced, dispersed, seperated from their community. several people are still staying in the rubble because they have nowhere else to go.

i visited again last night and was invited into one of the few remaining and more permanent homes. i met a young girl's sick aunt (i later found out the woman was the original owner of the property)who was bed-ridden and could not be moved because of her illness. they are all worried that the bulldozers will be back and thet they will not have time to get friends to help move the old woman out of the home before the bulldozers get to her. heartbreaking, sickening and outrageous.

there is so much more going on here than i even have time to process or write about. most of it good but some of it obviously horrible. the people in kenya are amazingly wonderful to us (except for one of the cooks at the hostel who hates all of the vegetarians that the forum brought to town). matatu rides are the most frightening and fabulous thing in the world. the pineapple here is the best thing i have eaten in my entire life. candy is cheap. about 80% of kenyan women want to keep ava. exhaust fumes from deisel buses hurt your feet. giant tortoises can eat through nylon tents. the power goes out a lot. police carry huge guns. everything can be bargained down- even taxis.

i need to get out and start my day (it is about 6:30am here). i heard more bulldozers last night and want to go check on my friend flozy before i leave town. we are also visiting kibera today- the biggest slum in kenya which houses over 1 million people. it was made 'famous' by "The Constant Gardener" and we are going to check out some projects they have going there.
sorry this is so disjointed. i am sleeeepy and anxious to be on the beach.

xo

nairobi after dark

2007-01-23T19:03:00.000-08:00

the forum has been both amazing and disappointing.

after i last wrote, the 20+ of us activists who witnessed the madness just over the fence we all call our temporary home, headed to the forum with naive hopes about gaining massive publicity for the destruction of the neighborhood next door. surely, as the world fricking social forum is being held in nairobi, the attendees would be interested in hearing of this horrible situation and would be motivated to do something to help, right? over and over again we were told that "this happens all of the time here." well, isn't this issue painfully similar to nearly everything else we 100,000 people are discussing here? isn't the purpose of this venue to work together to change these issues? some folks from independent media outlets were interested, and footage from someone stying here (the daughter of the woman from mill valley) was handed over to a media source who is supposed to air it sometime today (wednesday).

last night, after another full day of being reminded over and over again that the usa is involved with every single horrible thing going on in the world (either directly, or by modeling for others or supporting others who are oppressing people), and also being inspired by 3 women nobel peace laureates, we all congregate like we always do and share tea, chocolates or beer after the kids go to bed. a couple of american girls who had been filming and interviewing come back and explain that another slum is going through the eviction process and the people who are now homeless because of the destruction across our fence, have somehow aquired an attorney to help stop the bulldozing from demolishing the few homes left and to seek damages from the property owner for losing everything they owned. apparently, the property was sold to some asshole who wants to build a big hotel... surely to house western tourists behind a big fence.

at some point, the usual laughter and joking between the french canadians, us and our new spanish friends switched and we were informed that the bulldozers were returning again... and that this time, the people were being supported by their lawyer in blockading the street. about 10+ of us head outside our massive gate into nairobi after dark- something westerners are instructed NEVER to do. we had all been staying so long here, that the locals new a lot of us by name- especially ava's- and we had all grown to feel safe around here inlight of the police presence.

so folks head down the street about a block, to where the entrance to the 'informal settlement' is and the street was full of people discussing whether to help one another move their belongings out, or to stand together and block the entrance. within moments, the crowd began cheering and word spread that they had decided to block the streets. the lawyer informed us that he had instructed people to start big bonfires at the entrances, to keep the police out and people started getting really excited, regardless of the truckloads of police just across the street from where people were all gathered. they just wanted to buy time while their papers went through and it was great to see them working together.

i was back down the street talking the rest of our friends in front of the hostel. surely, the more white, western tourists i could send down to them, the more supported they would feel and the less likely the police would be to cross the line with force because of all of the cameras flashing away (one of my favorite people here is an italian guy who is a journalist living in columbia for the last 4 years). i am standing at the entrance of the hostel talking to the fench-canadians when i hear what sound like a gunshot. naturally, i panic because liz and all of our other friends are down at the end of the street and when i look in their direction, i see a clound of teargas crawling down the street.

everyone (including liz, who is safe) starts running our direction. one girl in her late 20's approached us coughing and rubbing her eyes so we got her some water and had her sit down to talk to us. she had lived in the neighborhood for 6 years and was lucky enough to have a friend to stay with. many were not so lucky- including many of the families, who had to leave their kids to sleep between the neighborhood bar/prostitute hang-out and the rubble of ther old homes, while they looked for a new place to live.

this is the most awful thing i have ever witnessed. the police set up camp just across the fence and several people had to move their tents because of the flying debris and the lound smashing of property that carried on all night. the usually lazy and sweet hostel dog was even so wound up that it bit a newcomer last night and would not stop barking.

i don't know what else to say other than that i am disappointed by the lack of media attention and concern by the people attending the forum. i am sure maybe we just have coincidentaly talked to the handful of random people that are too preoccupied with other things than to come out here and see the devestation themselves, but it is upsetting. i will let you know if anything makes it to the news... i keep trying to post on indymedia but the system is swamped... i found out where their tent is last night and will contact them today and update you all soon.

in other news, we are heading to mombasa on friday with about 20 other people from the forum and i can't wait to just sit in the sand.
xo

2007-01-21T17:00:00.000-08:00

sweet jesus
i have been pondering in my head through the busy busy days of the last week, thinking about some witty and clever hideaous kinky-esque blog i should write about how my luggage was lost and how xenia had a fever so high for two days that her face rashed out bright red and we had to go to the clinic up the street (which, by the way, was better than ANY clinic i have EVER seen in the USA). i wanted to tell you all about the massai villages i saw and the massai beer i drank right outside the mara the day we headed back to civilization from our safari (where masai warriors with spears and bows and arrows guarded our camp and had to scare hyenas and lions away). it is hot as hell here, with amazingly delicious bananas and refreshing rain at night.

then the forum was kicked off yesterday, after unorganzied and hectic check-ins in downtown nairobi. there was a march from kibera (the 2nd largest slum in all of africa- over 1 million people living in extreme poverty) to uhuru park where a concert with amazing african mucic and cultural events and speakers inspired me and made me start to feel good about the world again. we walked back to the hostel where we have downsized to a tent (because of rats infesting our walls) and fell fast asleep after a cold beer and some yummy vegetables.

at about 10:15pm, i started waking to crazy sounds of women and chldren screaming and what i thought were fireworks. there was a late concert last night and i assumed people were partying out in the streets. within moments, our friend claire, from ireland came to our tent and explained that police were bulldozing the entire neighborhood just over the fence from our hostel. apparently, nearly 1000 people, mostly families with small businesess who have lived there for many years, were "squatting" on private property. the police came the day before and said to get out. they had nowhere to go, so they came for them after dark.

they smashed windows and drug sleeping women and children from their homes and demolished several homes. when they ran out of fuel for their bulldozers, they began smashing windows and kicking in doors and tearing the metal/tin roof off of the homes with people inside. they re-fueled around 1am and carried on for more than 2 hours. i had moved my kids inside to a dorm room where a woman from mill valley was sleeping and spent the night talking and planning with the over 20 activists from italy, colombia, canada, ireland, usa, uk, australia, spain, etc about what to do to help. we sent out emails, took video footage of people being nearly run down by police bulldozers and photos and made phone calls to the media. i slept on the couch in the main room for about 2 hours and woke feeling beyond horrible.

before we left for the forum this morning, i went out for bananas at a fruit stand and walked around the alley to see the damage. it was beyond anything i have ever seen in my life. everyone from the hostel (which included a couple of journalists) were taking photos and talking to people. i spoke with a man who has lived there with his kids for over 3 years. he has no place to go. he also told me that the police only got to a small portion of the neighborhood and would be coming back tonight. there is a huge garbage truck with residents piling their belongings in before their houses get smashedm parked in front of the hostel right now. i am heading over there when i am done with this to see if i can help move their things out. i keep thinking that at least these families got a warning and that i won't hear screaming all night but it is still the most heartbreaking thing i have witnessed. the alcoholic, ex-uk military guy who owns and runs this place is out on safari for a week, so i may at least 'liberate' some blankets and hand them out over the fence.

i hope you all enjoyed my super uplifting update from me. i don't have time to check in on the web much, as there is only one computer here, with 75+ people/activists and it is hard to find time to actually write without some snotty brit breathing down your throat. i miss you all, but i do not miss home at all.

I hope you are all well. don't worry about me being in danger, i feel safe here and the kenyan people are amazing and kind. i'll update more later.

Heading out soon...

2007-01-03T18:32:00.000-08:00

i am so sick. my head hurts, my throat is swollen, my body aches, my eyes are watering and i am warm and sensitive all across my skin. apparently, the flu shot the traveler's clinic suggested for my trip to kenya has given me the flu. i have been pounding tea, GSE, my infamous vinegar/ginger/garlic concoction, emergen-c, airborne and gallons of water to get this shit gone and thankfully, the malaria medication they gave me also serves as an anti-biotic... i just started popping the pills a few days early to help get rid of this funk before i leave in ONE WEEK. (lila was also kind enough to take ava to the store so i could nap... and she came back with hot soup and cornbread.)

one week. in one week i am getting on an airplane with my kids and a friend (who also hates flying) and heading to the birthplace of man. it is overwhelming to think of but i must say that through all of the insanity and curveballs i have been thrown over the last few months, i am excited beyond words. the forum is going to be intense. liz and i both agree that we will probably be spending the bulk of our flight looking over the myriad of options for workshops thet they are offering each day. it is immense. we are going to be meeting with a friend of harjit's in nairobi who is works with the palestinian freedom project, as well. it will be fun to meet him (and i am sure the several other folks who we'll share meals and drinks and stories with). he is planning a visit to one of the somali refugee camps in the north and i so wish we had time to go along. i keep imagining myself sitting through workshops and somehow being magically filled with the energy and inspiration that has been slowly draining from my life over the last few years.

the safari is going to blow my mind, too. i just spent the last two days sick on the couch watching 'out of africa' and some african wildlife dvds. amazing. and mombasa is apparently being taken over my monkeys and has white sand beaches that are going to be my home for a few days before we head back to capitalism-land. the girls and i are then taking the train from new york for 3-4 days. we'll visit mickey in chicago for a few hours, where he will hopefully bring us tacos and fruit and listen to the girls freak out about giraffes and elephants. then we'll be on our way again- me reading 'walden' and 'people's history' for the 10th time and xenia knitting and reading harry potter. ava has a million art pads that we sent out to nyc with abby and heidi yesterday (along with all of our winter clothes) and we will arrive in santa rosa on february 5th- tan, inspired, tired and hungry for mexican food.

it is going to be quite interesting, travelling around a relatively safe country as a priveleged white tourist, knowing that places like somalia, ethiopia, sudan and uganda are just outside its borders. i still can't quite wrap my mind around it, but i imagine i'll be sleepless some night at our hostel and will sneak into the internet cafe to write all about it.

so the meds must be working because i think i just actually wrote a few complete sentences up there! i am tired again and off to bed.

send me your addys if you want postcards.
love you all dearly. for real.
xo

ava with amy goodman

2006-09-23T09:52:00.000-07:00

updated wish list

2006-09-23T09:37:00.000-07:00

+compact sleeping bags
+uv pens/water filters
+mosquito net
+phone with sim cards for kenya and india(optional)
+shoes

my friend abby got me a digital camera for graduation, my friend jamie gave me her very awesome $300 backpack and i have been collecting clothes and other supplies over the last few months. i imagine that the shoes i want will be on sale in the next couple of weeks (waterproof keens) or i will just get them on ebay along with the mosquito nets, etc. i am hoping i didn't miss rei's used gear sale and if so, i know i'll find cheap sleeping bags on craigslist or ebay.

i am getting excited and have been emailing with an orphanage in goa about volunteering there for up to a month. they told me i could rent a beach hut near the orphanage for $50-$200 per month, which is really tempting. i think we'll spend about 1-2 weeks at amma's ashram to start, followed by goa (1-4 weeks dependingon the orphanage's liscence renewal status) and then on to dharamsala in early march for some of the dalai lama's public teachings (he is doing one for kids based on the jataka tales on march 3rd and i am so excited). I'll head to shimla and dehra dun to the tiger preserve and vandana shiva's school but be based in mccleod ganj at the monastary. i am also going to take mini trips to bodhgaya, varanasi and agra to see the taj mahal before we fly home from delhi.

as far as kenya goes, we'll spend 1/2 our time in nairobi, 1/4 time at the coast and 1/4 time at the nature preserves. the kids are going wacko reading about the animals and watching documentaries about the masai people. they are so excited and liz and i are both so ready for this trip.

i'll update more later...

Update on Progress as of September 1st, 2006

2006-09-01T10:49:00.000-07:00

A lot of people have contacted me, insisting for updates so here I go!

I have been extremely busy, working 40 hours a week (going back down to 25 in a couple of weeks) and finishing up my graduate program. I graduate with my MA on September 10th and will be taking the next few months before my trip to complete my thesis on "Inter-Cultural Solidarity and Grassroots Community Building" and begin my work in Anti-Opression Trainings in a couple of weeks. I have been offered a teaching position focusing on globalization and culture, based on the research I will be doing in India on the topic of "Women, Culture and Land Use Issues in the Global South." I definitely have my plate full but have never been happier with the direction of my career and personal life.

Without giving too many details, I'd like to note that about a month ago, my oldest daughter's father withdrew his consent for her to participate in the entire trip with me, which has led to legal action. Things will be settled shortly and I will post an update when I have a better sense of what is going to happen. I am grateful for my youngest daughter's father, who has not only began to contribute to my family's trip financially, but has taken steps to help me get her passport without being present. His financial support has come as a suprise, but it makes sense that he would want to help his daughter have this experience of a lifetime.

In the meantime, details about the trip are regularly being fine-tuned, such as homeschool plans for the kids and other kid-related tourist adventures like a mini safari in Kenya through the Nairobi Backpackers and some great kid-friendly spots in India. I am excited about being able to do the one on one teaching with my kids! Some of the projects we will work on include international currency conversion stuff, pratical applications of mathematics, art and cultural focuses, cooking with the metric system, visiting wildlife refuges, monastaries, history of the rail system (in India and Kenya), religion, and of course, Xenia insists on learning Sanskrit and learning about ll of the animals, plants and geological formations. We'll spend time on trains reading and studyng in the library at Amma's Ashram in Kerela. I am grateful to have friends who will be travelling and living in India while we're there, so we can spend a good amount of time in each place. My friend Aeon and her husband Vivek will be both living back there in a few weeks and my friend Sumir is moving back to India to live in one of the monastaries I will be visiting. While not with friends, we will be staying in some highly recommended family-friendly hostels that will cost us less than $3 per night each! The Lonely Planet website has been a great source of information, as well as our friends Terrie and her son Ceili who have family there and have visited regularly.

As far as my "wish list" goes, I have gotten a lot of what I need. I got an amazing $300 backpack for barter for myself and have bought two used kids packs for very very cheap. I also have a list of prescriptions from my doctor and am getting a Nutri-biotic first aid kit donated. Michelle has been buying me breathable blouses (for me and the kids) so we can tolerate the hot weather and still dress in a culturally appropriate manner. We still need compact sleeping bags, mosquito nets, a UV pen (water filter), a digital camera and good shoes, but I still have 4 months to get the things we need and I know it will all come together!

I am grateful that I have had so much support from all of my amazing community members! I have gotten more advice, recommendations and stuff for the trip than I could have ever wished for. I feel like I am a bit too prepared and hope that my flexibility won't cease while on this adventure!

More updates posted soon, I promise!

XO

it is now official

2006-07-14T08:04:00.000-07:00

we bought our tickets to kenya yesterday. we will be leaving on january 10th.

Update on Fundraising...

2006-07-04T06:51:00.000-07:00

The fundraiser was over a week ago and was a great success! I had about 150-200 people there, sold almost all of the auction items, had incredible music and food and made enough for three one-way tickets to Kenya! I am very excited and am hoping to buy my tickets in the next week or so.

In the mean time, I am trying to find folks who would be into donating frequent flyer miles so I can get home (I will be returning from India). I am also pinching pennies to pay for getting the kids and I to India after my friend Liz leaves Kenya to head back to the US. Airfare is incredibly expensive when you are travelling with two extra people, regardless of how little they are. We also still need to register for the forum, find cheap accomodations and get our travellers shots and insurance.

In the meantime, I am working on overdue school papers and plugging away on my thesis so I can graduate in September. I was planning on taking an extra semester of thesis maintenance but I think I may actually finish it on time which will give me a few months to get the trip together and plan out the girls' "lesson plans" for our world-school adventures! Kenya will be an amazing experience for them and I have been preparing them with frequent trips to the library, checking out mountains of books and videos on the country. They are so excited and are really hoping to meet Wangaari Matthai at the forum!

Wish List

2006-07-04T06:50:00.000-07:00

Needs for Kenya and India

*Decent Digital Camera
*UV Water Filter “pen” things x2
*Water purifying tablets/ filters
*Backpacks
-1 good one for me
-2 small ones for kids
*Sleeping bags x3 that roll up teeny tiny
*Good walking shoes/sandals x3
*First aid Kit with BUG REPELANT and sun block
*Money belt
*Comfy, breathable cotton clothes
*Mosquito net(s)
*Travelers shots/ traveler’s insurance
*Medication from Dr. Hurley
*Maybe a laptop (if Kirk S. doesn’t give me his)

Extras for Kids:

Passports
Drawing pads
Journals
Small traveling art kits
Small cheap cameras
Sun hats
Hair clips and little trinkets to give to kids in India

Last minute chaos

2006-06-23T13:21:00.000-07:00

So tomorrow is the big day. I feel like I am getting married or something, only I am way more excited about this fundraiser than I ever was about that funny little wedding I had 11 years ago.

Things are actually coming together pretty nicely, considering the fact that up until this week, I have been doing all of this madness on my own. To ease my stressed system, I have decided to make a last minute change to my thesis project and am giving up the research aspect of a cross-cultural comparison between the European witch burnings and the religious and cultural persecution of the Indigenous people of North America. Instead, I am using al of the work I have put into this fundraiser and my motivation to get to Kenya toward my project. I am going to write up a piece about community building and how it relates to the global activist movement and how I fit into it all. Melissa, if you are reading this, I was going to give you the proposal yesterday, but you were sick. ;)

Anyhow, this event will be great. It will bring together most of the most important people in my life all at one time and I am so excited to see the networking and fun and relationships that will evolve out of this! Robert and I went to the food bank via Food Not Bombs today to get all of the organic goods for tomorrow's meal and it is going to be soooo good. Cupcakes will be baked in several kitchens across Sonoma County tonight. Auction forms typed up. Wine will be dropped off. Keys to the school will be picked up. Shadow puppets will be cut out and I will get a decent night's sleep.

See you tomorrow.

Article in this week's North Bay Bohemian

2006-06-22T18:03:00.000-07:00

Dani, Champion of the World
Forum-mania overtakes local mother!

Saturday, June 24, at the New College, 99 Sixth St., Santa Rosa. 4pm to 8pm. $20, sliding scale. www.danisavestheworld.blogspot.com.

Since 2001, the World Social Forum (WSF) has met annually in January, right around the time that the World Economic Forum (WEF) rolls into Davos, Switzerland. What's the difference between the two forums? It depends whom you ask, but here's a start: Angelina Jolie and Bono made the pages of People magazine for appearing in Davos last year. The WSF, on the other hand, brings in speakers less accustomed to the paparazzi's flashbulbs, like Noam Chomsky.

While the WEF has invited Amnesty International, Oxfam and other high-profile do-gooders to discuss global economic and social dilemmas with big-time politicians and executives, the meeting has come under fire for prioritizing profit margins rather than human problems, and for being Western-centric. Citing that "another world is possible," the WSF emerged to come up with alternatives to neoliberalism. It, too, has come under fire: the right criticizes it for being too left-leaning, and many on the left accuse it for being all deliberation and no decision.

Regardless of these issues, Santa Rosa activist and founding member of the Mama Collective, Dani Burlison-Craft, is holding a fundraiser to attend this January's WSF in Nairobi with her two daughters. Her press materials state charmingly, if satirically, "One girl can save the world. Um, with a little help, please?"

Why should we help fund someone else's vacation to Kenya? "It seems to me that as Americans are huge contributors to international and national issues around war, poverty, consumption of resources and the growing gap between the economic conditions in the global south and western society, that Americans should be at the forefront of the growing global sustainability movement," says Burlison-Craft.

Fair enough, especially since the party, sponsored by the Sonoma County Peace and Justice Center, should be a hoot, with music by the Spindles and singer-songwriter John Courage as well as belly dancing, a political puppet show, face painting, a silent auction, vegetarian food and drinks.

If only another world really were possible (sigh). Attend the Dani Saves the World fundraiser on Saturday, June 24, at the New College. (Brett Ascarelli)

http://www.bohemian.com/calendar/northbay.html

updated list of donations

2006-06-12T08:55:00.001-07:00

Last week, while I was plugging away on some overdue school work and preparing my 3 hour class presentation/student teaching for school, I was called away from my computer by a knock on the door. Annoyed by the interuption and thinking that it was just my landlord or a mormon, I took my time making it to the front door where I found a very pleasant suprise waiting on my porch from Righteous Babe Records! Inside of the box of donations, I found 4 Ani Difranco CDs, 2 Andrew Bird CDs, 2 Ani t shirts, an Ani dvd and two RBR bandanas- all accompanied by an incredibly supportive and encouraging letter!

I am so thrilled with the unbelieveable amount of support I am getting on this project!

Here is an updated list of donations, performers, supporters, etc:

About 50-60 tickets sold/RSVPs so far… My goal is 100!!!

*performers:
The Spindles
John Courage
Jay White
And the infamous Jeff Ott

*donors/supporters/auction items:

Lagunitas Brewing Co.
Peace One Day/United Nations Project
Addicted To War
Sonoma County Peace and Justice Center
Ani Difranco/Righteous Babe Records (and Andrew Bird)
Evolution Yoga
Kindred Fair Trade Store
Orr Hot Springs
Taylor Maid Farms
Java Sutra
Krishna Das
Occidental Art And Ecology Center
Shikai
Iron Horse Winery
Free Mind Media
Santa Rosa Food Not Bombs
New College of California ecological agriculture program (salad galore)
Sonoma County Museum
Roxy Cinemas
Rialto Cinemas
Ram Das tape library
Mothering Magazine
Shambhala Sun Magazine
Just For Play Pleasure Parties
East West Cafe
Melissa Patterson, ND
Wil Smith
Michelle Feileacan/Lemon Head Designs
Jessamyn Harris
Catherine Wright
Meredith Hamilton
The Velvet Teen
The Listening Group
Hanelei
Sara Sanger
Josh Staples
Jacquie Lichstein
Sarah Jane Andrew
Ryan Saari
Julia Lancer
Brian Henderson
Alyssa Rumrill
Jared Powell
Yarrow Mahko
Kirk Saunders and his new permaculture/gardening business
Abby Wing
Nancy Lisk Pottery
Hairspray Salon
A night on the town with the Burlison sisters (big seller!)
Overnight babysitting with 2 movie tickets from Diana Preskitt
3 hour cleaning from Nicole Galasso
Lots of massage certificates...
Some hair-do certificates...

Yes, oh yes. We are going to Kenya...

And the fabulous article that got us to NYC

2006-06-05T21:28:00.000-07:00

Women and Children First!: Mama Collective and kids, from left to right: Adler Blaze, Lila Cugini, Xenia Burlison-Craft, Dani Burlison-Craft, Ava Burlison, Terrie Samundra-Girdner, Ceili Samundra-Carr.

Crisis and Opportunity

Santa Rosa's Mama Collective rises to the challenge of the GOP

By Michael Houghton

The three women sitting across the table from me don't exactly look like wild-eyed radicals. But according to the mainstream media, that's what they are. Dani Burlison-Craft, Lila Cugini and Terrie Samundra-Girdner are three of the estimated 1 million liberal "fringe element" that are planning to "invade" New York City in early September to protest the Republican National Convention.

Sure, they look young and hip, with stylish hair and Portland-chic secondhand clothes. And sure, Burlison-Craft has a frenetic swirl of tattoo creeping kudzulike down her arm. But there's one thing that messes up the image. The only time they look particularly "wild-eyed" is when they're laughing about how Xenia, the oldest of Burlison-Craft's two daughters, is in the other room shouting at a broom that she's been trying to levitate with her mind, thanks to Harry Potter.

Burlison-Craft, Cugini and Samundra-Girdner are single mothers and the backbone of Santa Rosa's Mama Collective, a group they founded last year, they say, "to support single and partnered mothers who are involved in artistic expression and activism." Their first official activity has been to produce a zine by the young single mothers of the North Bay, the first issue of which will be out soon. But another, less tangible result is that, with each other's support, the Mama Collective's members are feeling more confident about taking risks--personally, artistically and politically.

"[In art and protest,] there's a lot of fear that you're going to get ridiculed and that you don't have support. You feel really alone," says Samundra-Girdner. "It can be really lonely parenting. You can feel really isolated, and it's good to have a support system."

"Part of a collective," says Cugini, "is that people individually are shy about making art or making political statements. But collectively if there's even one other person, or two other people, then there's strength in numbers; people aren't as shy."

Now that the Mama Collective has set its sights on protesting the Republican National Convention, there's just one problem. "We're single mothers," Samundra-Girdner says, stating the obvious. "We're not exactly rich."

"We need to raise money," continues Burlison-Craft, "at least for our air fare, which is going to be around $1,000."

To do so, the Mamas have planned a fundraiser for Sunday, Aug. 1. On sale will be baked goods and art, as well as a rummage sale. Tables will also offer voter registration, and of course, more information. "My main focus of going to the RNC," says Burlison-Craft, "is obviously to support the cause--to feel that sense of global community and to know that there are thousands of people out there fighting for justice right alongside me--but we're also going to document everything. The plan is to come back and report on what happened. I'll write articles, Terrie will be working on a film and we're going to have an anti-Bush art show before the November elections."

"We're also planning on connecting with other mothers' groups from different areas," says Samundra-Girdner.

The women also plan to highlight what they see as the GOP's manipulative choice of the location and timing of the event.

"This is the first time they've held [the RNC] in New York in the last 150 years," points out Burlison-Craft with obvious frustration. "And on top of that, they're holding it two months later than usual, just a week before the anniversary of 9-11. The GOP is using it as propaganda. They're playing on people's emotions and their fears; it's ridiculous how blatantly obvious what they're doing is: exploiting the grief and tragedy of 9-11--again."

But most importantly, the Mamas are going to New York because the policies of George Bush are affecting their children, now and in the future.

"There are these wars being waged on impersonal slogans like 'war on terrorism,'" says Samundra-Girdner. "I don't want to live with that fear. I'm going there as a mother because this is a burden that our children are going to carry, they're the ones who are going to have to live with it."

"The Bush administration has been a complete nightmare," adds Cugini. "A nightmare for civil rights, a nightmare for national security, a nightmare for the environment . . ."

"When Bush was the governor of Texas," adds Samundra-Girdner, "there were times when children couldn't even go out to play during recess because the air was so bad. That's why I'm going--because I want to stand up for the kind of life I want for my child."

Even closer to home, George Bush's tax cuts are directly affecting some of the Mamas' livelihoods and those social programs that help single parents.

"I was working for a nonprofit social services agency that deals directly with subsidized child's care," says Burlison-Craft. "The funding got cut so badly that they were thinking about closing the agency. I got my hours cut in half and ended up leaving. The first program to get cut was the respite program for kids that are at risk."

Burlison-Craft can literally rattle off a long list of Bush policies that are directly affecting her ability to raise her child. "The subsidized housing assistance I count on to help me to afford my house is being threatened. Medi-Cal services are getting cut way back. Public schools are constantly doing fundraising because their art programs and pretty much everything is getting cut."

But in the end, these women are going because they hope to make a difference.

"It may seem minor to some people," says Samundra-Girdner, "but it's a really big deal to us. This is what we can do on a small scale, on a local level."

"I talk to my mom a lot about what's going on," says Burlison-Craft, "and she's really freaked out about me going out to protest in New York because of what she sees all over the news about how dangerous it's going to be. I try to explain to her, it's like this Chinese proverb I have next to my desk: 'Crisis and Opportunity.' Every crisis carries two elements--danger and opportunity. No matter how bad things are, no matter what huge crisis you're in the middle of, there's always some opportunity for something good to come out of it. So for me, the fact that things are just so insane right now in our country--I think there's a huge opportunity for people to build a stronger community network and to actually do something to make a change."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I just googled myself

2006-06-05T21:26:00.000-07:00

And I found this article from a Chicago paper that I completely forgot about!

City Limits WEEKLY
Week of: September 6, 2004
Number: 450

MEDIA MISSES THE MESSAGE
What really happened at the poor people's march? > By Alyssa Katz

When a handful of demonstrators clashed with police on Monday evening near Madison Square Garden--including one who reportedly knocked a cop off a scooter and injured him--the incident and its attendant media coverage drowned out the message of the Poor People's Economic Human Rights Campaign, which was marching a block behind. "None of us know who did it or what happened," said Cheri Honkala, the group's founder.
So for the record, here's what it sounded like on the group's march from the U.N., which the NYPD permitted to go down Second Avenue and west on 23rd Street: "I went down to the president's house and I/Took back what he stole from me. Took back my dignity/Took back my humanity. Cuz it's under my feet, under my feet, under my feet, under my feet/Ain't no system gonna walk all over me."

Little kids and their moms, student volunteers, teenagers in technical schools, formerly homeless people who now run their own nationally recognized nonprofit organization--this was their song. Their message to midtown: poor people are politically active, poor people can take charge of their lives, and poor people can demand social policies that don't run them deeper into the ground.

"Under My Feet" started as the anthem of the Kensington Welfare Rights Union, a Philadelphia grassroots group that has organized poor and homeless individuals and families since the early 1990s to make themselves seen and heard as a political force. Honkala has taken KWRU to New York before, as part of an ongoing campaign to get the U.S. to recognize adequate housing, health care and food as basic human rights, just like the U.N. does. In 1998, a busload of members (plus yours truly and a documentary film crew) took a cross-country ride to spread the word and come into the spotlight. This time, KWRU and allied groups have come to protest the Republican National Convention under the umbrella of the Poor People's Economic Human Rights Campaign. Members camped out in Bushville, a tent city they set up in--where else--Bushwick, at Mount Zion Christian Church of Christ.

Many of the several thousand marchers who joined the midtown procession had never heard of the Philadelphia group or its national offspring. "Any march that's going on, I'm going to be there!" said Eric Pawluk, who's studying business at Fordham University. He happens to think international poverty is the more urgent problem to deal with. All the same, Pawluk sees the trouble at home: his Bronx neighborhood is full of homeless people.

Marcher after marcher had stories like this to tell. There was Lynn Fitzgerald, who works at a Yonkers homeless shelter and is appalled at the quality of that city's schools. And the flip side: California teacher Scottie Smith, who complained that many of her students can't learn because they have unstable housing and pervasive health problems in their families. And the Sonoma, California, mom who's worried that she'll become homeless again if she ever loses her federal rent subsidy. "This is very personal," said Dani Burlison, who raised money to come to the demonstrations.
The NYPD escort accompanying the march under a last-minute agreement was generally respectful and polite--perhaps because Honkala had praised the police as "brothers and sisters working without a contract." "It's great, it's really great," said Miriam Kramer, chair of the National Welfare Rights Union, remarking on the turnout of several thousand for a cause that's usually on the margins. "And the police is marching with us!" [8/31]

From www.citylimits.org

donations so far

2006-06-03T18:17:00.000-07:00

I spent a few days about 2 weeks ago typing up and sending out about 150 letters soliciting financial donations as well as donations of auction and raffle items. Many of my amazingly creative friends are donating art, handmade clothing, wine, food, music, services (massage, haircuts, housecleaning) and TIME and I should have everything ready for the auction in the next week or two!

So far, I have received generous donations from these folks in the mail:

Hairspray Salon
Sonoma County Museum
East West Cafe
Evolution Yoga
Krishna Das
Shambhala Sun Magazine
Lagunitas Brewing Company
Orr Hot Springs
The Ram Das Tape Library
The Rialto Lakeside Cinemas
Roxy Cinemas Stadium
Free Mind Media
Occidental Art and Ecology Center (being sent)

I am also going to:
*apply for an "Adopt An Activist" grant
*do a "Dine and Donate" dinner
*possibly ask for corporate sponsorship (at least for accommodations or supplies or travelers immunization)
*ask airlines for discount vouchers
(advice?)

I am feeling a little anxious about the event. Planning something so huge, for my first time, by myself is very overwhelming. There is the music, the food, the auction items, the raffle, the wine, the kid-friendly activities, the publicity and the stress of trying to get the money raised in time to buy the tickets before they cost a million dollars. On top of this all, I am trying to focus on my last semester of graduate school, do thesis research, learn more about Kenya (including where to stay during the forum) pay the bills and do my best to be a decent mom.

I am trying to tell myself that all of my hard work and dedication to trying to "fix" the world is going to pay off instead of making me crazy and that we will make it to the forum...

And announcing...

2006-06-03T18:13:00.000-07:00

...The event flyer!!!! Generously provided by my friend, Michael and being printed by my friend Ryan. Kick. Ass.

yard sale

2006-06-03T18:02:00.000-07:00

this morning i woke up very early to my favorite sonoma county weather pattern- fog. it was just lovely but made it a little challenging to pop up out of bed and start getting ready for phase one of my fundraising... the dreaded yard sale.

i have spent a lot of time over the last few weeks collecting stuff from friends and neighbors to sell as a part of my fundraising efforts, which was easy. i have also spent the last few weeks trying to convince my kids that they don't need so much crap, which was not so easy. of course i tried using the whole buddhist lesson of attachment and reminded them of the scene in baraka where families are digging furiously through a landfill to find their next meals and how most children in the world don't have the luxury of selling their things because most children in the world don't have much to sell in the first place (a little guilt trip from time to time is a necessary parenting tactic). having xenia away on a school camping trip helped me to sneak out some sale items and pumping up ava with the idea of making money off a bake sale/lemonade stand finally worked some magic as well. we unloaded a lot of things and made enough to get the kids' passports and maybe a water filter or two.

i am left with some pretty big items that my good friends abby and heidi have offered to take off of my hands and i am handing over a few bags of good condition clothing for my neighbor michelle to give away to children in chiapas when she heads to mexico for her yearly trip this november.

i am exhausted and behind in school work and am going to use this rare occasion of having the kids both elsewhere for the evening to get myself caught up.

thanks to michael, hannah, jacquie, michelle, justin, jessamyn, anna, heidi, abby, nicole p, nicole g and everyone else who donated stuff for me to sell!

Be All That You Can Be. Or not.

2006-05-18T19:59:00.000-07:00

So I am spending the evening printing out donation request letters for my fundraiser and packaging seeds for my kids to give out with their school at the parade this weekend. The seed packets have "Join us in Planting the Seeds of PEACE for the Future" printed on them and the girls are busy drawing away on them. I check my email and I recieved an ironic and startling message... My friend Glenn, who had already shocked me by joining the Army after leaving Sonoma County announced his deployment date today and I am completely horrified. He leaves for Iraq as an engineer with the Army in the fall where he will be helping to build Iraqi police stations.

I don't get it. This is the same young guy who lived in town a few years ago and attended an anti-war march with me when the US first attacked Iraq. He stood on the sidewalk cheering for me and held on safely to my camera as I was arrested for blocking an intersection with about 50 other people. I feel sick to my stomach...

I know through my limited work with military counseling and counter-recruitment that people join for various reasons. I understand that people are persuaded by various recruitment tactics and joining the military may be an enticing option to what one's day to day life may consist of. I understand the loyalty that people have to their countries. What I don't understand is how people in such a privileged nation such as mine, can become so desensitized that contributing to an illegal and brutal war and killing people is just another "job."

I wish I could make him stay...

teaching

2006-05-13T22:28:00.000-07:00

Me and the little ladies

2006-05-12T17:26:00.000-07:00

Mama, Ava, Xenia

About The World Social Forum

2006-05-12T13:44:00.000-07:00

The World Social Forum is an open meeting place where social movements, networks, NGOs and other civil society organizations opposed to neo-liberalism and a world dominated by capital or by any form of imperialism come together to pursue their thinking, to debate ideas democratically, for formulate proposals, share their experiences freely and network for effective action. Since the first world encounter in 2001, it has taken the form of a permanent world process seeking and building alternatives to neo-liberal policies. The World Social Forum is also characterized by plurality and diversity, is non-confessional, non-governmental and non-party. It proposes to facilitate decentralized coordination and networking among organizations engaged in concrete action towards building another world, at any level from the local to the international.

More information is available at www.forumsocialmundail.org

some photos from past social forums

2006-05-11T11:11:00.000-07:00

Day One Of My Quest

2006-05-10T12:12:00.000-07:00

Well, this isn't actually "day one" of my quest. Afterall, I have been dreaming of saving the world since I was old enough to form a complete thought and this trip of mine has been rattling in my brain since I first heard of The World Social Forum a few years ago. This is simply day one of my blogging attempt. From today forward, I am going to document my process of fundraising, dealing with fear of flying, dealing with trying to plan and organize this trip while finishing school and raising these revolutionary daughters of mine.

So here we have it. A list:

1. I have non profit status. This helps with fundraising! Hooray and THANK YOU to my fellow board members at The Peace and Justice Center!

2. I have a venue for the fundraiser! Hooray and THANK YOU to the Santa Rosa New College campus!

3. I have a donation request form/letter that I worked on today instead of doing homework or working at the kids' school. Sierra is taking our photo later for the form and the website that wonderful Preston is creating for me!

4. I am getting donations for the event! Bands, bellydancers, wine, art, stuff. This is going to be great.

I am so incredibly blessed with my community and so lucky to have the opportunity to go to this forum. I can't wait!

“I know I’m Not Alone Either, Michael": A Conversation with Michael Franti

2005-12-28T18:26:00.000-08:00

A Conversation with Michael Franti
By Dani Burlison

The experience of sitting down face to face with Michael Franti wasn’t nearly as
intimidating as I expected it would be while I sat waiting, watching the Palestinian dance
troupe scurrying through the halls of the Santa Rosa Veteran’s Hall. Maybe the fact that he
was sitting, rather than standing up, towering over my small frame, helped ease the
nervousness. He was also casually barefoot (as usual) and approached me as an old friend
and colleague – ready to discuss his new film, our children, graffiti art and Odwalla’s new
Purple Superfood smoothies.

Michael Franti is a Bay Area celebrity musician, activist, father and most recently, a
film-maker. His latest project is a documentary film entitled, “I Know I’m Not Alone”, in which
he takes on the controversial issues of the war in Iraq and the ongoing conflict in Israelioccupied
Palestine. We sat down to discuss the importance of his film and the slow
progression of “wiggle room” in today’s political environment.
“People are very inspired by the film,” says Franti. “But, making the film was very
difficult. We are at war right now and I took on the issue of Israel and Palestine. You just say
those two words and BOOM! It’s like a powerful explosion.”
Franti spent over a year editing “I Know I’m Not Alone” in order to get all of the
perspectives covered, focusing mostly on his own experience of visiting war torn Iraq and
Palestine.
“You could have a film with two hours of bombs dropping and show that perspective of
war or you could have a two hour movie about the dinner you have in a restaurant during a
war. My perspective is that there is a light that we can move on to. I was trying to show in this
film some of the examples of how we can see this light.”

One recent example of this light is Ariel Sharon leaving the Likud Party and starting his
own. Franti pointed out that “For somebody who is very right wing militant to say, ‘I am going
to break away from the hard line of the party’ is big! It gives a lot of people who may be on
the fence the opportunity to speak up. It gives them some wiggle room.”
Franti and I agreed that Sharon’s move wouldn’t necessarily immediately improve the
conflict in Palestine, but that it is movement and movement is a positive thing. “We aren’t
going to have our ideals. Palestinians won’t have their ideals and Jews in Israel won’t have
their ideals, but there can be a middle ground. That is what I am interested in working toward
and that’s what I hope my film inspires- that there is an opportunity within the conflict to
move.”
When discussing his recent tour around the US, for film screenings of “I know I’m Not
Alone”, I asked Franti about how well he and his film had been received in some of the more
conservative areas of “Middle America. “ He assured me that his experience has been
nothing other than positive and that he plans on showing the film in Iraq as well as Israel after
he is done with his US tour.

“You know, I think in our country today, there is a big switch. People don’t want the
war in Iraq. Seeing that only 37% of people here support Bush… Wow. That doesn’t just
happen because he f*cked up on a few things and people are suddenly waking up. It
happened because millions of people sat down at their dinner tables and talked to their
families about it. Millions of people sat down in the streets and protested and raised their
voices about it.”

In the end, when the Superfood was gone and we had shared laughs about our
children trying to rebel against our radical parenting, Franti helped reassure and inspire me.
He has confidence that when we can move away from the fear that the US government and
Israeli government prey upon, opportunities for change and movement arise.
“Don’t ever think that anything you do is too small. There is a light out there.” He says.
I couldn’t agree more. Thanks for leading us to the light, Michael. See you in the streets.

There will be a screening of “I Know I’m not Alone” in Sebastopol in late January.
Check out www.spearheadvibrations.com/tourdates.cfm for more info.

Sonoma County Peace Press:
http://www.peaceandjusticesonomaco.org/Peace%20Press%20Archive/PP%20Dec%202005%20index.html

2005-12-01T10:28:00.000-08:00