A trip to my local grocery store this weekend was an eye opener. A few months back I began mentioning to store employees that I noticed hardly any fruits and veggies were from local farmers and were from such faraway locations as Chile, Equador and Mexico. I queried them why they did not carry locally grown produce, and they squirmed and struggled for a response. I did notice, however, that in the coming months more locally grown produce began appearing.
Which is why this weekend's shop was so shocking to me. Every fruit I picked up was grown in Mexico, Equador, or Chile. I found no California-grown fruit. When I picked up the asparagus, I noticed the attached tag did not indicate place of origin. I then noticed a sticky tag placed on the asparagus itself and it read, in very small print, that the asparagus was grown in Chile. Do we not grow asparagus right here in California?
As I then ventured into the rest of the store I found almost every item, in every category - cheese, cereals, breads, canned goods, cleaning supplies, had a portion grown or produced in a foreign country. This disturbs me as it should you.
Pick up your most recent catalog from your favorite store be it Macy's, LL Bean, JC Penney, Target, and take a look at the origin of just about every piece of merchandise and you will find it originated overseas. Store management I am sure will argue that Americans don't want to spend a lot of money on clothes, gift items, etc. While that may have been our thinking in the past, I'm sure there are Americans out there who would agree to pay higher prices if it meant our fellow Americans had jobs.
We need to join the folks protesting on Wall Street and throughout the USA, defying corporate greed for profits and kicking to the curb Americans who are struggling to find jobs, and live the American dream. Demand that stores sell USA made merchandise. Ask your local grocery store to stock only USA grown and locally produced items.
We have just begun rethinking how we live our lives. We are now much more frugal, we think twice before reaching for that credit card to purchase a "want" vs a need, we frequent and purchase gently used clothes at consignment shops, Salvation Army stores and estate sales. We sleuth out great bargains on E-Bay and other sites, antique stores, and even our local garage sales.
We now need to take that one step further, and give this thinking our voice. Speak out for America, ask for American made goods and be willing to pay a bit more.
Americans want and need to work, let's begin today.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
A Choice We Make and Promises to Keep
Working with and living with animals has always been a part of my life. For years I’ve volunteered at the local Humane Society. My tenure there began when fourteen years ago my son, then 12, and I ventured into the shelter to select a new dog to share our life. We made a promise to ourselves not to simply pick the first cute set of eyes and ears we saw, but rather take a casual stroll through the facility and simply view the offerings. We knew this choice was a decision we would have to live with for at least 13 years or so and wanted it to be a good match.
My son and I decided to split up, he walking to the right to take in that share of kennels while I concentrated on the leftmost location. He quickly called me over to look at a German Shorthaired Pointer who stood staring at us as if he was totally bored and simply wanted to be released from his prison. We wrote down his name and cage number. A bit later I spotted a Basset Hound, 5 years old, typical droppy eyed and dewy expression on his face that only a Basset Hound can demonstrate and still look lovable. His number and name were added to our list.
While David concentrated on a beagle mix, a sudden flash of white bouncing body caught my eye as I neared a cage holding three mixed breed puppies. The one with a white husky looking mask, and big, big front paws stood smashed against the cage door with what could only be called pleading eyes, staring directly at me. As soon as she knew she had me, she quickly darted back into the cage to gather up her cage mate who up until then had been snoozing contentedly. I called my son over and asked his opinion. He wandered over and soon was caught up in her energetic, sheer determination to get us to look at her. There was something special there beyond her name Chiquita, and her cage number went on our list.
About an hour went by before they called our number to screen us for adoption and quite frankly, my son and I were concerned that our picks might already have been adopted. Once we were seated and talked about our previous two dogs who had passed within the last year, the second passing within six months of our older dog’s passing. They liked the idea, we knew, that we had been the sole owner to our two previous dogs their whole lives and also rallied at the thought that my son was 12 years old which made their decision easier. As they went through the list of dogs we had chosen, the pointer had been put on hold for medical reasons and was not readily available and the bassett had just been adopted by a couple. That left us with the cute mix of husky and who knew what else. After asking us if we were still interested, they brought us to the meeting room and brought in the bouncy golden white bundle of energy we had selected.
Chiquita it turned out was surrendered by her previous owner because she had grown too big for them, and they didn’t want their baby around such a large dog. She was a backyard dog and they said with the new baby they simply didn’t have time for her. So she ended up in the shelter. The adoption host stared at her and was trying to determine what breeds she might be, a guess of lab-x was the best they could come up with. I might mention that during this time Chiquita, or Maggie as she would soon be renamed, walked in and went directly up to my son, laid her head in his lap, looked up at him with those soulful eyes saying “let’s go home!” After about a minute, we both looked at each other and said “let’s take her!” Maggie had found a home.
So here I sit some 14 years later recalling my first eye contact with Maggie. As she sleeps near my feet as I write this, I'm fully aware that each day now is precious, our time together is counting down. We both have been through a lot together and I'll surely miss my sweet girl when she passes. As I watch her slowing down, as have I, I expect to one day be met with the look. The look that tells me she is ready, ready to end this life she has lived, ending a relationship we both have cherished. It will be a difficult day, one I will remember and cry about for years. But when friends love friends, they care enough to make that hard choice. And, Maggie, I'm sure knows in her heart that she will be replaced by another lucky shelter dog who will enrich my life in much the same manner that Maggie does. For shelter dogs know, they simply know.
I’m not a person who enjoys making a presentation to a large body of people. Perhaps that’s why I was in a state of denial and awe when I was offered the role of School Board President at my son’s school.
David was in elementary school at the time and while I found him academically
challenged enough and enjoyed volunteering at the various social and school-themed events, I never in my wildest dreams thought this opportunity would present itself.
I remember the phone call to join the School Board. I gave it a few minutes of thought taking into consideration the time I would have to expend, the date the board met, and even the evening hours. After determining this might be a good fit and easier than some of the other volunteer assignments, I accepted.
The first night we met that season I was warmly greeted and the meeting was called to order. Following Parliamentary rules the meeting progressed and then the topic of choosing a new School Board President was presented. One board member raised her hand and suggested that I be named and another member quickly seconded this proposal.
Quicker than I could open my mouth and respond the Board chimed in agreement.
As I sat in awe and I’m sure bug eyed, I suddenly had a new role, one for which I hadn’t a clue I had been drawn to by perhaps less than honest means. After the usual round of congratulations and clapping, I took the gavel and found myself conducting my first board meeting.As I routinely worked through the agenda items with the team, I slowly came to understand their roles, their concerns, their strengths, and most of all their personalities.
The school had some solid concerns about budget, curriculum, and student progress. By the end of that first session I had divided the group into three teams, each assigned a project; one was to take a serious look at the budget, find and suggest some cost cutting measures that didn’t impact the bottom line and maintained the high standards the school hoped to maintain; the second team was to view the current curriculum, study the revised and suggested changes demanded by the archdiocese and report back on their findings with some solid ideas on how best to immediately address these issues; and finally, the third team was to issue a report on student progress – were they upholding the high standards both the state and the archdiocese demanded, determine weak links, establish solutions. And, as always, questions or concerns, were to come to me first, before they got too far into the process.
Following that first night, my board members and I managed to trundle through that first year offering up some solid suggestions and changes. We learned about each other, I learned the weak link and the solid performers in the teams. I was forced to face my fear of public speaking in a big way, several times, having to speak before the parents of the entire school on various issues. While not perfect, I struggled through and managed not to make too great a fool of myself. I guess I did a decent enough job that I remained school board president for two terms, six years.
Physicians play a vital role in our lives; educating them, stimulating ideas and research, tracking their progress all are essential mandates of securing an MD degree. Evaluating their progress during training is a routine, yet vital task undertaken each day.
As a new staff member in the Oncology Division I was charged with collecting evaluations of our trainees. My first day at work found me mailing a hard copy of a standardized, somewhat ineffective (at least in my opinion) evaluation to each trainee and faculty member who had either interacted with or mentored them. After a week of doing this tedious task I decided changes were necessary.
First and foremost the evaluation seemed weak, leaned toward biased branding, and certainly did not leave enough open ended questions for true evaluation of the trainees skills and or lack of them. I decided I would rewrite the form. Secondly, forwarding these forms via inter-office mail seemed extremely dated and unwieldy in this famous, high-tech valley we lived in. I found it difficult to image that Stanford did not have a database or other tracking mechanism that could easily handle this task
My first pass at updating the questions, leaving enough room for comments and rethinking this whole process switched my focus to getting this whole process online.
I placed a few phone calls to contacts and friends I’d made through the years, and discovered that indeed, the School of Medicine was working with a new system that did evaluations of their medical students. I promptly set up a meeting to meet with the lady working this new system. After about five minutes of reviewing the process and the outcome I knew we had to incorporate this into our program. I secured the contact information and rushed back to my office.
After several website searches, talks with the company customer service rep, I wrote up a proposal, including pricing, and directed it to both my boss and the Division Chief.
They agreed to a demonstration, were excited about the possibilities and thanked me for my efforts.
A few months later, after the demonstration by the company reps, approval of the pricing structure, and a final presentation to the rest of the faculty members, the system was instituted. Now evaluations could be created, generated, collected, and filed easily and efficiently. Following our purchase several other divisions began to use the service and eventually, about two years after our purchase the School of Medicine decided this was a stellar idea and went to bids with several companies and ended up choosing another
vendor, whose product was a twin, with a few extra tweeks.
Volunteering has its own rewards. Working at Stanford University offered up many such opportunities. In some cases, volunteering was a job requirement. For major venues like Reunion Homecoming Weekend staff volunteered to set up the food concessions, guarded boxed lunches, maintained crowd control. Menial tasks but positive studies in human nature.
Humane Society Silicon Valley simply could not function without its dedicated team of volunteers. Doing everything from helping staff mail out invitations to fund raising events at Santana Row or simply sitting next to, gentle rubbing and consoling dogs recovering from a spay or neuter operation. Each important, each inspiring.
People who manage volunteers are a gifted set of personalities. Juggling schedules and making sure all shifts have ample volunteers to successfully complete a task, to dealing with personalities and interests, and in some cases slumping motivation.
Working an event, coordinating your volunteers, making the best use of their talents while sometimes raining in their exuberance are keys to success or failure. Human nature makes people attending an event expect the best, demand the most, and in some cases, dismiss the hard-working volunteers. Volunteers on the other hand can educate, inspire, make an event more festive and fun.
If you’ve ever worked the Special Olympics or participated in your kids Walk-A-Thon for a good cause you get a sense of what volunteering is all about. Although you curse the many hours and frustrating delays, changes, and sometimes disasters that befall working with a team, you know of what I speak.
But as you watch the special needs kid crossing that finish line, faces aglow with victory, or surrendered to the slurpy kiss of a dog giving thanks for finding him a new home, you are witness to the rewards. Life is precious, volunteering can help.
My son and I decided to split up, he walking to the right to take in that share of kennels while I concentrated on the leftmost location. He quickly called me over to look at a German Shorthaired Pointer who stood staring at us as if he was totally bored and simply wanted to be released from his prison. We wrote down his name and cage number. A bit later I spotted a Basset Hound, 5 years old, typical droppy eyed and dewy expression on his face that only a Basset Hound can demonstrate and still look lovable. His number and name were added to our list.
While David concentrated on a beagle mix, a sudden flash of white bouncing body caught my eye as I neared a cage holding three mixed breed puppies. The one with a white husky looking mask, and big, big front paws stood smashed against the cage door with what could only be called pleading eyes, staring directly at me. As soon as she knew she had me, she quickly darted back into the cage to gather up her cage mate who up until then had been snoozing contentedly. I called my son over and asked his opinion. He wandered over and soon was caught up in her energetic, sheer determination to get us to look at her. There was something special there beyond her name Chiquita, and her cage number went on our list.
About an hour went by before they called our number to screen us for adoption and quite frankly, my son and I were concerned that our picks might already have been adopted. Once we were seated and talked about our previous two dogs who had passed within the last year, the second passing within six months of our older dog’s passing. They liked the idea, we knew, that we had been the sole owner to our two previous dogs their whole lives and also rallied at the thought that my son was 12 years old which made their decision easier. As they went through the list of dogs we had chosen, the pointer had been put on hold for medical reasons and was not readily available and the bassett had just been adopted by a couple. That left us with the cute mix of husky and who knew what else. After asking us if we were still interested, they brought us to the meeting room and brought in the bouncy golden white bundle of energy we had selected.
Chiquita it turned out was surrendered by her previous owner because she had grown too big for them, and they didn’t want their baby around such a large dog. She was a backyard dog and they said with the new baby they simply didn’t have time for her. So she ended up in the shelter. The adoption host stared at her and was trying to determine what breeds she might be, a guess of lab-x was the best they could come up with. I might mention that during this time Chiquita, or Maggie as she would soon be renamed, walked in and went directly up to my son, laid her head in his lap, looked up at him with those soulful eyes saying “let’s go home!” After about a minute, we both looked at each other and said “let’s take her!” Maggie had found a home.
So here I sit some 14 years later recalling my first eye contact with Maggie. As she sleeps near my feet as I write this, I'm fully aware that each day now is precious, our time together is counting down. We both have been through a lot together and I'll surely miss my sweet girl when she passes. As I watch her slowing down, as have I, I expect to one day be met with the look. The look that tells me she is ready, ready to end this life she has lived, ending a relationship we both have cherished. It will be a difficult day, one I will remember and cry about for years. But when friends love friends, they care enough to make that hard choice. And, Maggie, I'm sure knows in her heart that she will be replaced by another lucky shelter dog who will enrich my life in much the same manner that Maggie does. For shelter dogs know, they simply know.
I’m not a person who enjoys making a presentation to a large body of people. Perhaps that’s why I was in a state of denial and awe when I was offered the role of School Board President at my son’s school.
David was in elementary school at the time and while I found him academically
challenged enough and enjoyed volunteering at the various social and school-themed events, I never in my wildest dreams thought this opportunity would present itself.
I remember the phone call to join the School Board. I gave it a few minutes of thought taking into consideration the time I would have to expend, the date the board met, and even the evening hours. After determining this might be a good fit and easier than some of the other volunteer assignments, I accepted.
The first night we met that season I was warmly greeted and the meeting was called to order. Following Parliamentary rules the meeting progressed and then the topic of choosing a new School Board President was presented. One board member raised her hand and suggested that I be named and another member quickly seconded this proposal.
Quicker than I could open my mouth and respond the Board chimed in agreement.
As I sat in awe and I’m sure bug eyed, I suddenly had a new role, one for which I hadn’t a clue I had been drawn to by perhaps less than honest means. After the usual round of congratulations and clapping, I took the gavel and found myself conducting my first board meeting.As I routinely worked through the agenda items with the team, I slowly came to understand their roles, their concerns, their strengths, and most of all their personalities.
The school had some solid concerns about budget, curriculum, and student progress. By the end of that first session I had divided the group into three teams, each assigned a project; one was to take a serious look at the budget, find and suggest some cost cutting measures that didn’t impact the bottom line and maintained the high standards the school hoped to maintain; the second team was to view the current curriculum, study the revised and suggested changes demanded by the archdiocese and report back on their findings with some solid ideas on how best to immediately address these issues; and finally, the third team was to issue a report on student progress – were they upholding the high standards both the state and the archdiocese demanded, determine weak links, establish solutions. And, as always, questions or concerns, were to come to me first, before they got too far into the process.
Following that first night, my board members and I managed to trundle through that first year offering up some solid suggestions and changes. We learned about each other, I learned the weak link and the solid performers in the teams. I was forced to face my fear of public speaking in a big way, several times, having to speak before the parents of the entire school on various issues. While not perfect, I struggled through and managed not to make too great a fool of myself. I guess I did a decent enough job that I remained school board president for two terms, six years.
Physicians play a vital role in our lives; educating them, stimulating ideas and research, tracking their progress all are essential mandates of securing an MD degree. Evaluating their progress during training is a routine, yet vital task undertaken each day.
As a new staff member in the Oncology Division I was charged with collecting evaluations of our trainees. My first day at work found me mailing a hard copy of a standardized, somewhat ineffective (at least in my opinion) evaluation to each trainee and faculty member who had either interacted with or mentored them. After a week of doing this tedious task I decided changes were necessary.
First and foremost the evaluation seemed weak, leaned toward biased branding, and certainly did not leave enough open ended questions for true evaluation of the trainees skills and or lack of them. I decided I would rewrite the form. Secondly, forwarding these forms via inter-office mail seemed extremely dated and unwieldy in this famous, high-tech valley we lived in. I found it difficult to image that Stanford did not have a database or other tracking mechanism that could easily handle this task
My first pass at updating the questions, leaving enough room for comments and rethinking this whole process switched my focus to getting this whole process online.
I placed a few phone calls to contacts and friends I’d made through the years, and discovered that indeed, the School of Medicine was working with a new system that did evaluations of their medical students. I promptly set up a meeting to meet with the lady working this new system. After about five minutes of reviewing the process and the outcome I knew we had to incorporate this into our program. I secured the contact information and rushed back to my office.
After several website searches, talks with the company customer service rep, I wrote up a proposal, including pricing, and directed it to both my boss and the Division Chief.
They agreed to a demonstration, were excited about the possibilities and thanked me for my efforts.
A few months later, after the demonstration by the company reps, approval of the pricing structure, and a final presentation to the rest of the faculty members, the system was instituted. Now evaluations could be created, generated, collected, and filed easily and efficiently. Following our purchase several other divisions began to use the service and eventually, about two years after our purchase the School of Medicine decided this was a stellar idea and went to bids with several companies and ended up choosing another
vendor, whose product was a twin, with a few extra tweeks.
Volunteering has its own rewards. Working at Stanford University offered up many such opportunities. In some cases, volunteering was a job requirement. For major venues like Reunion Homecoming Weekend staff volunteered to set up the food concessions, guarded boxed lunches, maintained crowd control. Menial tasks but positive studies in human nature.
Humane Society Silicon Valley simply could not function without its dedicated team of volunteers. Doing everything from helping staff mail out invitations to fund raising events at Santana Row or simply sitting next to, gentle rubbing and consoling dogs recovering from a spay or neuter operation. Each important, each inspiring.
People who manage volunteers are a gifted set of personalities. Juggling schedules and making sure all shifts have ample volunteers to successfully complete a task, to dealing with personalities and interests, and in some cases slumping motivation.
Working an event, coordinating your volunteers, making the best use of their talents while sometimes raining in their exuberance are keys to success or failure. Human nature makes people attending an event expect the best, demand the most, and in some cases, dismiss the hard-working volunteers. Volunteers on the other hand can educate, inspire, make an event more festive and fun.
If you’ve ever worked the Special Olympics or participated in your kids Walk-A-Thon for a good cause you get a sense of what volunteering is all about. Although you curse the many hours and frustrating delays, changes, and sometimes disasters that befall working with a team, you know of what I speak.
But as you watch the special needs kid crossing that finish line, faces aglow with victory, or surrendered to the slurpy kiss of a dog giving thanks for finding him a new home, you are witness to the rewards. Life is precious, volunteering can help.
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