Sensory Overload

what Bono's voice sounds like ThisClose to your ear

In my brain ~ my muddled Mari-world ~ when the din of Doubt and fracas caused by Fear overpower me, I go somewhere where the love and light are so loud they drown out even the deepest darkness ~ I go to Glide.  I went this morning, knowing that 90 miraculous minutes at Glide will re-cast the chaos of as many days in a new light, a clearer perspective ~ like putting those bad days back in the kiln, turning up the heat on that fire called You, and re-shaping your Perspective.  I just needed to re-center myself ~ and when I go to Glide alone, well that anonymity ~ singing and smiling in a sea of, literally, a thousand strangers ~ well, that's how I re-adjust my mental/emotional compass....silently confiding in strangers who can't disappoint me.  And Glide never disappoints me.

I've mentioned before that the congregation at Glide is...colorful ~ cathartic, really.  As the saxophonist belted-out an ear-catching solo to start the celebration, the choir members danced in.  Today, they were dressed all in black instead of their bright Kente robes ~ and I don't need to tell you there were a few pairs of black leather pants and some leather vests in the group; we are in San Francisco, after all. ~ :)  John Turk, the band leader, wore a bright mustard-yellow suit ~ and Reedy (Rev. Cecil Williams' brother who "acts as bouncer and community song leader") subtly snagged everyone's attention with his exquisite, explosive purple jacket....and matching purple tie with a white kerchief peeking out of his breast pocket like a lost cloud. 

And the crowd ~ wow ~ feather boas and Birkenstocks and cuties with bedhead, all giving each other big bear hugs.  Our usher, a woman in her 60's, proudly wore a deep red rose in her hair ~ and her kleenex tucked into her cleavage, easily accessible when needed to dab away at that emotion that the Glide choir will bring up in anyone.  [After the service, one of the choir members told me that they don't use song/lyric sheets, they memorize every song, and they never know in advance what songs they'll sing that day ~~ they know when the band hits the first note.  I mean, how awesome is that choir?]  I watched in awe as Dignan, the sexiest sign language interpreter on the planet, signed and danced along with every song ~ as he has done for at least the last 8-10 years (um, as long as I've had a crush on him). ~ :)

The single guy next to me clapped off-beat to every one of the 7-8 songs ~ he was having a blast.  With me next to him, clapping on-beat, we sounded like a pair of flamenco "palmeros" ~ you know the flamenco musicians who each clap to a different beat of a song so that it sounds like one person clapping really, really fast ~ that was us, the flamenco section of the gospel choir.  I talked to Nick, one of the choir members, and asked him, "Aren't you supposed to be up on stage?"  He smiled and replied, "I needed to take one day off."  But he was still there!  How beautiful is that?  It's family he said.  A tiny woman in her 70's danced down the aisle and stopped and smiled at the 20-something guy with the shaved head and five-o'clock-shadow who was dancing along in the aisle.

The music shook the entire building ~ I could feel the pew vibrating under me.  Our ears overflowed with a sea of singing.  The colors and smiles and sheer fun danced in front of our eyes.  Ai,  this commotion ~ this type of sensory overload ~ is what I needed to drown out Doubt, to forget Fear, and realign my compass. 

About 30 minutes into the celebration, just before Rev. Cecil Williams began speaking, this really pretty woman walked in and sat in front of me with two cute kids.  They clamored around her, trying to both sit on her lap ~ so the cuteness factor caught my eye.  Then I noticed that she looked kind of familiar ~ "wow, she looks just like Ali Hewson," I thought.  Her son got down off her lap and walked over to his dad, who was now standing next to me, because there weren't any more open chairs.  The mom signaled to Dad to grab the son and so I looked over at the white t-shirt inches from my face...Then, I  looked up and thought, "Wow, he looks just like Bono." . . . . And then I remembered they were in concert last night in San Jose. . . . And then he spoke, saying something to his son ~ and that beautiful voice....ok, my Brain finally pointed out: THIS IS BONO RIGHT NEXT TO YOU AND YOU CAN LITERALLY TURN YOUR HEAD AND KISS HIS HAND BUT HIS KID IS IN THE WAY!!

But then I got over it ~ because, you know, we live in the Bay Area after all and we don't get star struck.

BUT IT'S BONO YOU DIM-WIT!   AND HE ESSENTIALLY JUST WHISPERED IN YOUR EAR!  AND IN SOME COUNTRIES THAT'S AS GOOD AS MARRYING YOU!  sigh ~ heavy, heart-skipping sigh.

OK, so I admit I was silently melting next to him ~ my right ear can now die a happy, fulfilled body part and the magic murmur of Bono's voice is forever etched in the goosebumps on my arm.  I couldn't look up at him, so I sat there admiring his beautiful family and the fact that he got up after a long night of work (being a rock-star-God you know) and went out with his FOUR kids to CHURCH.   And his wife is gorgeous and brilliant, dammit.  And they are committed to humanitarian work.  Damn.  ~  But you know, Cecil was still speaking and no one made a fuss ~ we all listened to Cecil (including Ali and Bono) and we all got worked up, shouting out a few hallelujahs and shalom's and right-on's.

Then Cecil ended his sermon and invited "the young man in the back to come forward" ~ yes, he meant Bono.  Ali didn't want to go up on stage so Bono slipped on his black leather jacket (in that sexy way only rock stars and public interest lawyers can pull off) and ran up stage.  He called Cecil "The Pope of San Francisco," and then told us the story of when he met Pope John Paul II six years ago.  We all laughed when Bono described the meeting "between the Pope with a rock star complex and a rock star with a Pope complex." During the meeting, the Pope stared intently at Bono for a long time, which made him uncomfortable, as he thought, "Shit, I must have done something bad."  After a while, Bono asked the Pope,  "Holy Father...would you like some fly shades?"  And the Pope replied, "Yes."  So up on the Glide stage, Bono took off his sunglasses (which you know he always wears, so it was a treat to see him "bare face") and he showed us how the Pope put on the sunglasses and made a hilarious face ~ he tilted his head, scrunched his eyes, and smiled in a huge grin.  Someone took a photo, which Bono thought would show up on the cover of every magazine.  But Bono went on:  "We never saw those photos...apparently, the Vatican doesn't have the same sense of humor the Pope did."  And so the Pope gave Bono, in exchange for his sunglasses, a sort-of-crooked cross designed by Michelangelo, which Bono wears around his neck.

Then it was the end of the celebration ~ time to hold hands with the strangers next to you and sing Amazing Grace.  Bono joined the choir and sang along ~ CAN YOU IMAGINE BEING A CHOIR MEMBER ON THAT STAGE?!  And then Bono took the microphone and started singing Stand By Me as we all danced and sang along.  In the second verse, he changed the lyrics, and started singing:
♪♪♪ "Well I've been coming to Glide for many years, oh and when I come to Glide, oh-oh-oh when I come to Glide, I know it'll feel like home away from home ~ whenever I'm in trouble, Cecil stands by me  ~ stand by me." ♪♪

And we all hugged and clapped and Bono and his family went downstairs and bought a pile of Glide t-shirts ~ he signed a few autographs and they were all whisked away in two black Explorers or whatever celebrities get whisked away in.  [Later I found out that after the service, Bono and Ali launched their EDUN clothing line at Saks Fifth Aveneue, just a few blocks from Glide, and then Bono met with our U.S. Representative Nancy Pelosi, and then he had another concert Sunday night down in San Jose.  Um, and what did you do on Sunday? ~ :) ]

Me, I came home and stretched out on my balcony, reading all afternoon, soaking up the sun, humming "Stand By Me," and remembering how Glide is always there for me.

~ :)

day 2 as a state employee...

I've discovered some great things about working for the State and commuting to my new job from Oakland to San Francisco......first, the good stuff:

1. Brand-spanking-new, card-carrying union member, baby ~ yeah.
2. Explaining to my friends and family back home that I use the casual carpool to get into the City.  First, I explain that I simply stand in line on the sidewalk near a busy intersection and hop in a car heading West ~ the driver gets to use the HOV lane, doesn't have to pay the Bay Bridge toll, and I get a free ride into the City, then am usually dropped off 1-2 blocks from my office.  These have been some of the reactions when I tell people:

Papi: You do WHAT?  You stand on a corner in broad daylight?! And get into a total stranger's car?!  Ai Dios mio, my ulcer.....I'm putting your mom on the phone...
Friends: So...you HITCHHIKE? To work? Every day?  And you have a car? Oh Lord you Californians....
My Sister: You WALK?!  Two blocks!?  Don't you wear heels?!
Mami: Well, is it a cute man, si quiera, driving a fancy car?  Mija, where are my grandchildren?

You can see how quickly the conversation goes downhill, right?  This is that "slippery slope" attorneys are always talking about ~~ trying to explain to our families what the heck we do with our lives.  But I love the casual carpool and its quirky rules (absolutely no talking unless the driver initiates the conversation; if you're a driver, only NPR, jazz, or classical should be on the radio; absolutely no cell phones).  While I was in law school, I would casual carpool it from Berkeley to the City for work ~ every single time, as we started up the slope of the eastern span, heading towards San Francisco, I was struck speechless by the view.  From the middle of the Bay Bridge you can see the Golden Gate Bridge and the Richmond Bridge,  Alcatraz dotting the middle of the Bay, Coit Tower and the TransAmerica Pyramid reaching up through the fog, and the bright blue ocean glimmering in the distance ~~ I mean, can you imagine a more spectacular f***ing commute?  Ahh, but I digress, as usual.
3. The most important thing, thus far, is the adorable new chiropractor I found right around the corner from my new office ~~ for treatment, people, treatment for back pain!  But talk about oceans of glimmering blue....eyes....oh wait, damn, I digress again.
4. Ok, focus ~ back to the office.  Really, the most important, exciting aspect of my new office is that I am working with some amazing, dedicated people.  One of the attorneys in the office has had 1, or I think even 2, death sentences set aside ~ i.e., she has literally saved the life of two of our clients.  In this line of work, there are superstars like that, around whom even the most seasoned of attorneys get tongue-tied and star-struck.  I can only imagine what I can learn from her.  Even in our training session, the strategy and legal questions asked by all of the attorneys and legal analysts were brilliant and I felt damn special to be there. 

OK ~ the somewhat disturbing revelations:
1. I realized that, technically, my Boss is Ah-nold, The Govern-ator. 
2. These words coming out of the HR Administrator's mouth: you get paid monthly.  What she really meant is, "you will starve from now until March 31 when I toss your puny paycheck into your weakened arms."   I thought to myself, "I wonder what I can sell to get me through the month."  This is going to take some getting used to.
3. People always say there are two things you should never watch being made: laws and sausage.  I discovered during training that you also do not want to ever watch how a state agency handles employee travel expenses.  The sheer number of forms, admin staff, back-n-forth mailings, and coding required to reimburse me $6 for breakfast while I'm out in the field ~ well, it was mind-boggling let me tell you.   No, really, you have no idea.  You cannot imagine the time, money, and energy spent trying to ensure that none of our under-paid state employees commit fraud by claiming an extra meal or padding their travel time.

OK ~ so clearly I am not going to get into the substantive information ~ yet.  It's only been two days but I am exhausted ~ the training is extensive and dense.  I know I'll also have to find a way to deal with reading the case law ~ you can imagine the violence, poverty, and serious mental health issues that come up in capital cases.  So, on a serious note, I must say this job is going to be really difficult ~ challenging in a way I want, though.  I have some interesting facts and statistics to share about the death penalty, especially how California crafted its Penal Code statute to "guide" juries in applying the death penalty ~ so stay tuned for that post (that means you, Oso). 

But that post will have to wait for a few days.  You see, tomorrow night I start my training to be a Guide Dancer for the Blind.  Yeah, you heard that right.  I love saying that sentence ~ "I'm gonna be a guide dancer for the blind."  Really, all I wanted was dance lessons ~ I looked around and found a way I can get them for free.  Remember how I always talk about the creative ways public interest people have to purse their hobbies and passions?  Well, I love to dance and I love my volunteer work, and the dance studio is right at Lake Meritt, walking distance from my apartment.  So, I'll spend four weeks learning how to use hand/body movements to help my blind dance partner learn the dance steps. I'll have to learn the "leader" and the "follower" steps, though.....hmmm, with my two left feet, it'll be like the blind leading the blind......Oy, I crack myself up.  So, if you want free dance lessons and you like volunteer work, see if your city offers dance lessons for the blind!

For now, I leave you with this link to Arbitrary and Capricious, a very cool P.D. in Olympia, WA ~ his blogroll is fantastic (if you like that sorta thing).  Oh yeah, and thank God for this news.

On Explaining My New Job To My Dad...

I've been off-line for a while now..in case anyone has noticed ~ but damn have I missed some of my favorite blogger-compas (D.T., C.L., Oso, to name a few).  My absence has been partly due to muse-less-ness but also trying to put all my energy into getting this new job I wanted so desperately ~~ like willing it to happen because I left no room in my brain for anything else and so, dammit, it had to come through....and so it did ~ it only took a few months, a huge application process, three intense interviews (even one on the morning there was no hot water in my apartment building), and other Mari-shenanigans I'll tell you about later.

This is me, trying to explain (in our twangy-Spanglish-cluttered way of talking) my new job to my Dad, who, you might remember, lives not just in a Red State, but the reddest of the red: Texas, as in "don't mess with":

Me: Hi Papi ~ so, tengo un trabajo nuevo....(I have a new job).
Papi: Ai, mija (subliminal message: Finally, gracias a Dios.) ~~ que nice.  Que es? (Yes, we really say, "que nice" or "que fancy" or "que bad manners tienes"...ah, but I digress...)
Me (trying to build up the excitement before I explain what the job actually is): I'm so excited, Papi ~ you know, era muy dificile to get into this agency ~ voy a trabajar por el State y tuve three interviews y I had to meet with seven people and take an oral exam y hacer un "role play" and three written exercises and you should be very proud porque it's very hard to get into this kind of job......
Papi: Sí, pero what is it?
Me: Well, voy a ser un Legal Analyst por la Oficina del State Public Defender...[pause, deep breath] on death penalty appeals.....
Papi: Oh. [silent pause] Ai, mija.  Death penalty?  Um, para plaintiffs ó defendants?
Me: Well, papi, only defendants appeal death sentences.....
Papi: Ai, no Mari.  Que?  Defendants?  Sentenced to death?
Me: Well, los defendientes sin dinero -- como se dice 'indigent clients'?
Papi (voice rising): Ai Mari, pero if someone killed one of my kids I would want them to die!
Me (I will see your stern voice and raise you a spot of indignation): Pero Papi, vengeance no es justice!
Papi: His tone implied: "So, if someone murdered me, you wouldn't want them dead?  Ingrata! What kind of daughter are you?"  But I think he said: "Yo se que vengeance no es justícia, pero los que matan deben morir!" (The old "eye for an eye" argument ~ the favorite of the pro-life/anti-abortion crowd.)
Me: Pero papi, Ud. sabe que el sistema no es fair, si el estado kills even just one persona inocente, no es justo!

What I wanted to say to Dad but didn't because it would put him more on the defensive:
In fact, since 1973, 119 death row prisoners in 25 states have been released because of evidence of their innocence.(!)   And Texas, home sweet home, is # 1 in executions but it ranked 50th in high school completion in 2001!

He agreed on that point....yes, there is no justice in an unfair system.  And I agreed, sort of, with him ~ I assured him that if anyone ever dared hurt him, yes I would wish him dead, but that doesn't mean I'd actually want him sentenced to a pre-meditated, state-sanctioned death ~ "Ai Papi, if you were murdered well, how could I ever live with one death, much less two ?"   I explained to him how and why I unequivocally oppose the death penalty as a public policy, no matter how I might ever feel about one single case ~ that I could never let my grief distort my judgment or legal principles.  I think it made little sense to him, but I felt in his response a certain pride in my convictions ~ I was the strong, independent daughter he had raised, after all, so this is his fault (I pointed out).

We struggled to find a way, in 3 languages (including the Spanglish),  to find more we could agree on in this morbid conversation.   I could hear what he was thinking, because he has said it before: "Wait a minute, you're saying you don't want your emotions to dictate your legal stance on this issue....um, but you're the most damn emotional person we all know ~ I mean, you say you're emotional about everything else you do. Y hesto?"  And so there's the gray area ~ the nuance between emotion and passion, or compassion ~ and I constantly struggle with that apparent dichotomy ~ or rather, I struggle in explaining it to people ~ what seems like contradictory explanations are really two sides of the same coin.  But that's a post for another long, rainy night.

There was an awkward silence ~ a big Spanish sigh between us, trying to fill the vast distance between our political views, a difference of opinion seemingly marked by each of the 1,928 miles which separate us. He was probably wondering, yet again, whose child I was.  He switched tactics and tried to be more supportive, asking, "Ok, bueno, it's a permanent job verdad?"  ~ Finally, an answer he would like: "YES."

There ~ I thought we were back on track.  But oh no, then came the next question: "Bueno, bien, y el dinero?  Permanent means more money, right?"
Me: "Um, well, actually, Papi, I took a pay cut."
Silence.  Silencio.  A lot of it.
Papi: "Ai, Mari.  Mija.  How many degrees do you have now?  Y pa qúe?" ~  Then he nearly started on the usual lecture about how he came to this country with only a high school education and worked so hard so that we would earn more than him.....sometime in his lifetime....please, just a little more, por favor....But he stopped himself and asked, "Ok, but what exactly vas a hacer?"

Me: Well, voy a investigate the criminal case and conviction y voy a hacer legal research and writing y I'll go out in the field to interview the client and family members.
Papi: Vas a interview your clients?  Where?
Me: Well, papi ...in prison ~ remember, they're on death row, they can't very well come to the office. (Oy vey, why did I have to get into details? And why that tone in my voice?)
Papi: Mira. Ma-ri-sa (uh-oh, he's using my full name, emphasizing the three syllables, oh this is bad....) ~ I don't know about this! No señor, vas a ir a death row ?

I decided this was not the best time to go into further details on the new job, nor to tell him my other news ~ that my thoughts on Alberto Gonzales were quoted in the cover story of the latest issue of the Freedom Socialist newspaper.  I opted instead for the usual, safe route: "so, how hot is it in Texas today Dad?"

I'll spare you the rest of the conversation ~ but will say that the good thing about this discussion with my Dad, as someone pointed out to me, is that he didn't just skim over the news with a paternalistic "that's nice mija."  Years ago, he would have never voiced his opinion, or listened to mine.  I realized that somehow over the years, we have learned to talk to/with each other, and listen, and disagree ~ without yelling (too much).  This is a big step for us ~ and after I hung up the phone, I admired my Dad even more, if that's possible. 

So, I spent the past couple of weeks explaining to my Dad the importance of habeas corpus petitions and the vital nature of the public defender system (which Texas lacks!), and I think I am slowly convincing him that I did just snag an incredible, challenging job, one full of opportunity and, thankfully, secure State benefits, not to mention one that reflects my personal convictions.  Tomorrow is my first day so wish me luck ~ ! ~ After I get settled in, I'll write more ~ I won't be able to write about my case work, thanks to that pesky notion of confidentiality, but other stuff is going on and so I'll find time to catch up on my blogging.