Dark urban times overlain by copious amounts of The Wire

EPA is changing in dark, mysterious ways. I often make light of it’s designation as a dangerous urban area, but lately, it’s been living up to that reputation. Many of the residents are being forced to move because of an ongoing battle over rent control between new landlords (of 1600 units) and the city. What’s left in that wake is really weird. There are many empty units, lots of random street trash and broken glass, much stoop sitting by teenagers and van sitting by older people. I take Albert for walks around the neighborhood and feel uncomfortable for the first time in almost 4.5 years of living here. It feels increasingly like I’m living in a milder CA version of the west side of Baltimore—a thought I had independently and was then confirmed when my lover had EXACTLY the same thought. There is definitely the occasional gun fire, the quarterly calls we have to make to the police because of the sounds of violence that we hear, the break-ins that happened to our neighbors, and the random assortment of trash (latex gloves, old brooms, piles of broken car window glass, Mcdonald’s bags) that fit the urban stereotype.

Maybe I’m letting my watching of The Wire color my world view, but this world is dark, man. I get to see it everyday at school, where I have students who come from safe and nurturing homes (similar to my upbringing) in the same class as those that live in group homes and have babies that their parents in Mexico don’t even know about. What do you do with that, exactly? Who am I supposed to be teaching to? And what? Science? Humanity and kindness? Homework is irrelevant to one group, and a parental expectation of the other.

Today I intercepted a note in which a student was explaining to her friend the intensely sad familial dynamics that she’d run away from. She couldn’t talk because her throat hurt, and asked for the note back so she could continue to purge her thoughts and find some solace in her classmate (my cerebral explanation for what was happening, of course). What was I going to do—not give it back to her? She lives in a group home and yet, everyday, there she is in my class. The fucking power of the most important institution in this country—schools. If you aren’t a believer now, then watch The Wire, seasons 4 and you will be. When there is nothing giving these kids purpose and comfort, at least there are the schools. The place with 2 solid, free meals a day, routine, and at least a few people who care enough to show up and try to engage them in thoughts that aren’t about the hardness of the life they see every day. It’s such an important anchor for a community. It really doesn’t matter what you teach them, or how smart you are as long as you provide the distraction. I realized as I watched her in class that the benefit of privilege isn’t money and opportunity, but the ability to live life as a child—to stave off the pressing of life until you are cognitively ready to handle it.

So yeah, season 4 of The Wire really resonated with me. It was so incredibly thoughtful and tragic. Really, we’re doomed the second we’re conceived to the life that our parents inherited from their parents. Someone has already chosen for us, but who? Not to sound pessimistic, but it’s just true of the vast majority of people. After every single episode of season 4, I’d turn to Natan and say, “that’s dark”. Then, at the end, I cried and couldn’t sleep. The Wire is possibly the most brilliant television show ever made (I know, that’s what all white people think). It’s slow with fully rounded out characters, like a Tolstoy novel. No plot development is ever gratuitous. It’s fair and realistic. It has made me a smarter person. I thought I knew TV. Bufffy is awesome, as is Battlestar Galactica and The Hills (jk), but The Wire is seriously head and shoulders above the rest. My thoughts still linger for Michael and Dukie--so sad and aching just to get to be kids. My brain hurts trying to reconcile my love of public institutions with the sad fact that they are all flawed and that we have to do better in our small communities and down the block to support the people that fall through, because if public institutions are flawed, private ones are even more so.

On that note, I think it’s time for me to go to bed with this little guy:

some things about Albert

1. He does not bark, ever. I literally stepped on his foot and he did not utter a peep. He did slightly growl at Pumpkin when she swiped at him, so I know he has vocal cords, but he does not use them.

2. He really likes chewing on pig ears. Apparently all dogs do, and they are really gross, especially when soggy and in the middle of the floor.

3. He likes walks, but is prone to falling into potholes due to his 5 inch legs.

4. He garners a lot of attention, due to his short stature and unusual appearance. We went to the pet store and lots of people asked questions about him, and pet his little head. I bet Natan would be a babe magnet if he were to take him places.

5. Even though he is 10 years old, he is only sort of housebroken. I feel completely unequipped to deal with this issue, though I will give it my best try.

6. Pumpkin doesn't like him, but she's getting used to having him around and has started eating again. She's more vocal about attention now and insists on sitting on my lap throughout much of the day. I feel like I've ruined her life.

More Albert

He is the most hideously cute thing I've ever seen. (The collar is on so he doesn't lick his hernia wound).

Albert P. Willow

Look at our newest family member! We adopted him on Saturday, but he had hernia surgery today, so we weren’t able to bring him home until this afternoon. He’s a 10 year old gentledog who was previously a stray but was at some point a pet, as he has a microchip. He’s very passive and sweet, though we haven’t played with him much yet since he’s recovering from surgery. He has a corneal ulcer and recently had 8 teeth pulled! He’s retiring in Chateau Pruett-Benyonatan for his remaining years. We liked his humane society name, Albert, and got his middle and last names as a suggestion from our dear friend Shawn.

dining companions

We totally ate dinner next to Michelle Pfeiffer and her family on Sunday. Unfortunately, I was with three people who are decidedly NOT interested and not at all tickled by this occurrence. The intersection of these events was excruciating. All I wanted to do was invasively listen to her family’s conversation and watch her eat, but my dinner companions wanted to talk about Obama and Teach for America.

We were literally in the table RIGHT NEXT to her. I looked over and noticed that there was an unusually attractive woman with two teenagers and a man. When the woman turned her face I thought, “That looks like Michelle Pfeiffer”, a sentiment that I conveyed to one of my dinner companions. This companion half-heartedly said, “yeah” and continued to be engrossed in the table conversation. As I soaked in more of the scene I noticed something very peculiar: We were in possibly the best pizza place in all of the bay area, yet this family of four ordered a medium pizza, of which the woman ate NONE. She literally sat there and ate a salad while the rest of her family finished 1/3 of a medium pizza.

This just didn’t add up, unless the woman’s insanely thin figure was necessary to maintain for, say, her livelihood. I still don’t understand why her family doesn’t eat though. My final observation is that she probably weighs about 100 lbs. She had one of those skinny teenage girl butts that cannot poof out a pair of jeans. She looked breakable (but really pretty from the neck up).

When we got home, I googled “Michell Pfeiffer family”, which brought up this photo. Only then was Natan impressed, although he did have the gall to ask, “how did you know?”