23 June 2020

What Happened to My City?

      Essay written in Feb 2017.  Published June 2020

I was born and raised in Berkeley – something I had, at one time, been proud of. However, so much has changed since the 60’s, that I barely recognize my city.

I was in 6th grade during the Free Speech Movement and my elementary school was less than a mile from the Cal campus. The majority of my classmates had parents who were in some way affiliated with the university; some had studied there while others were faculty members. Therefore, it was not surprising that the kids at my school were rather well informed about the historic situation unfolding just down the road. It would have a lasting impact on all our lives.
   
It was even more exciting for me because my friend’s father was a prominent Political Science professor at Cal with connections to the leaders of the Free Speech Movement. I remember being at her house when the phone would ring, she would answer, then call out to her father that it was for him. She would then run over to me and whisper in awe, It’s Mario Savio! He had rock star status, even to a couple of 12-year-old Berkeley kids.

A large number of our parents were 60’s liberals and democrats. They believed in a country for all. They believed in tolerance. They believed in civility. Many had come from working class backgrounds, and all the dads had served in the military in WWII. Most had used the GI Bill to get their university degrees at Cal and some stayed on to become faculty members. All of our mothers and fathers were hardworking and did not expect handouts. Perhaps these are some of the reasons there is such a difference between today’s liberals and those of my youth.

Much of my junior high and high school years were spent peacefully protesting the war in Viet Nam, defending the right of People’s Park, and engaging in debate about the future of our country. Conversations could become quite heated, yet I do not remember anyone being frightened of physical repercussions should their views oppose another’s. There were police altercations; some of them rather intense. But to the best of my knowledge, there were never any bands of black-clad anarchists intent on destroying the campus and city, with a total disregard to the views of others.

Berkeley, to me, now represents the opposite of the Flower Child ideals of my youth. It has turned into a city of close-mindedness, intolerance, and the belief that there is only one correct avenue of thought. And although I still hold one or two of my 60’s beliefs, I will never accept the methods by which these now seem to be promoted. Regrettably, this new paradigm begins long before students arrive at UC Berkeley.

When I was growing up, we may have guessed at the political views of some of our teachers, but not one of them ever preached what their students should believe. We were encouraged and allowed to express our own opinions. As a lifelong educator, I still uphold the edict that was taught to me during my college courses. We were instructed that we could never even display political buttons on our clothing or divulge which candidate we supported. This tenet was to allow for students to come to their own conclusions as well as to protect the views of their parents who might have differing political affiliations.

My, how that has changed in the ensuing years. One example is a secondary school teacher in Berkeley who is one of the leaders of the movement to tear down our country. In February 2017, during destructive riots on the UC Berkeley campus, this teacher stood in front of a crowd with a megaphone screaming “…. if we stick together and stay united…. We can shut this f***er down. We can get rid of Donald Trump.” (I believe she is still employed by the district.) Then there was the elementary school Peace (protest) March on the day of the inauguration with 6-year-olds holding Not my President signs. And the 7th grader whose I Have a Dream essay began: “Donald Trump should be killed,” because “he hates women”. Walk into any school in the city and you will find these same sentiments on the walls and in the classrooms, coupled with a complete lack of tolerance for any opposing views.

So vile is the rhetoric against President Trump in my city, that I am fairly sure the inauguration was not shown at most, if any, of the public schools. As a politically aware child of the 60’s, I have made sure to watch every inauguration. It does not matter that I may have disagreed with the incoming president on any number of issues. I have always seen it as my civic duty to witness one of the great hallmarks of our nation, the peaceful transfer of power. Jan 20, 2017 was no different. Regrettably, my local state official did not share my view. Along with many other House Democrats, she chose to boycott the inauguration. I had wanted to call her office and register my objection. After all, I am one of her constituents and strongly felt that my district should be represented for this momentous occasion. But one cannot do that in Berkeley. When one lives in a city, district, and state that is so vehemently opposed to the president, it is not wise to speak out in favor of civic duty and responsibility.

I remember when Nixon was elected in 1969, and how terribly upset that made me feel. I could not believe that it had happened. My parents had been equally unhappy about the outcome. But it was my die-hard Democrat father who pointed out that the American people had spoken, and it was something I had to accept.

Growing up in this city in the 60’s is why I became an educator. I truly believed that I could change the world through education. At this point in my life, I am totally disillusioned with a profession that seems to have taken two steps back for every step forward. I grew up in the city where the Free Speech Movement originated. We were the first city in the nation to integrate its schools. There have always been strong ties between the University and the public schools, both in research and innovation. One would think that we would now be a sterling example of how to educate young children. We are not.  

What has happened to freedom of thought, freedom of expression, and the first amendment on which my city built its reputation? The Berkeley I knew no longer exists. 

04 June 2020

The Oakland A's and Hot Pants Day


No live sports for months. This may be the worst part about the lockdowns.

We should all be watching baseball. Spring Training has come and gone and who knows when the boys will take the field again.

I’ve been left to watch replays in my mind, recollecting the Oakland A’s of old. We had a great team back then, filled with the superb players; Vida Blue, Rollie Fingers, Catfish Hunter, Sal Bando, Campaneris, Tenace – the list goes on. Owner Charlie Finley, quite a character, came up with gimmicks to promote the games. Hot Pants Day, June 27, 1971, had to be a favorite.


That particular day was hot and sunny – not a given in Oakland, for the game against the Kansas City Royals. The word went out: show up at the Oakland Coliseum in Hot Pants and you gained free admission. How good was that? And these weren’t bleacher seats being given away. A pair of hot pants got you a great spot in the stands.

Women in the thousands showed up to fill the Coliseum. During the 7th inning stretch, the gals were invited to walk down out of the stands and parade around the infield. It doesn’t get much better for a baseball fan than setting foot onto sacred grounds and passing within one foot of Reggie Jackson and the rest of the boys.

Perhaps sometime this year I will be able to turn on the TV and watch a live game. I long to hear the crack of a bat when it connects to a fastball. Or watch a right fielder dive for an impossible catch and make it. Perhaps the A’s will have an exceptional season. Honestly, I’d settle for any type of season at this point if it meant filled stands and great plays.

Hot pants have come and gone, but will forever be linked to a fabulous day at the Oakland Coliseum.
FURTHER BASEBALL MUSINGS: SF Giants in the DR