Category Archives: Uncategorized

Sleepless in San Ysidro

If only I could sleep. Tomorrow is too important. That’s why I can’t sleep. If I’m too tired tomorrow how can I be strong for myself and for my kids. By tomorrow this time where will I be, where will my children be? I don’t want to think about it. But I can’t help it. I can’t help thinking that I have done this to my children. That I have put them through so much danger, that I don’t know what kind of dangers are ahead for them. What will happen if we are separated? How can they speak for themselves, they don’t know English, not enough to explain our situation. Neither do I, but at least if we were together—

Look at the way Antonio is sleeping, hugging his backpack like it was his old stuffed dinosaur. Jacklyn, thank god, she’s asleep, poor thing. I hope she doesn’t remember that nightmare when she wakes up. But how will she ever lose the memory of what happened to her after we left Durango. Molested by that gang member who carried drugs, while I was throwing up in the brush from the bad food. Her clothes torn and she had thrown up, too, from the things that monster did to her. Even now, look at the way that man sleeping near her keeps inching closer every time he turns over. In a minute I am going to wake her and trade places with her. She didn’t deserve any of this cruelty.

I really wish to god I had turned back before we got to the border of Mexico. But the farther we went the harder it was to turn back. How can I ever forget this living nightmare? This thing I have done, listening to false promises and lies and giving all our money to these bastard smugglers, these “coyotes”, who tell you they will keep you safe and get you to the U.S. and you will have a job there and a place to live. I was a fool, just like all these other people. And now look what I’ve done to my children. I suppose that’s the real reason why I can’t sleep.

Robbed twice, then arrested by Mexican immigration, they separated me and my children for two days. Then they finally let us go and told us not to stop until we reach the U.S. border. I was almost raped by that bastard smuggler but those two men from my country were nearby and saw I was in trouble and scared him off.

I miss the baby so much. But how could I bring her? You can’t take a three year old on this kind of travel. Some people do, but—. Will I ever see her again? Will I ever see Grandma? Sometimes I wonder if I ever really will.

In the morning I have to be sure the children remember those two words: Asilo Politico. The coyotes tell us that the Americans have nice hotels for families like us, we will get our own room, food, everything we need while they listen to our case. I don’t really believe any of that. I don’t know where they will put us. I don’t know if they will take my children from me. But I know they will not harm my children, they have compassion, they will give them plenty of food and a safe place to sleep with other children. Maybe they will let me visit them. That is all I care about. Maybe I will be able to sleep at night then. If I could only sleep now. But first I must move Jacklyn to the middle, between me and Antonio. I don’t want to wake him. He needs these few hours of peace. Before tomorrow comes.

No such law

I’ve been away from immigration law for six months now, but I can tell you this: There is no law that requires undocumented children and parents to be separated. If there were such an absurd law, you would have known about it long ago. Family unity is a fundamental principle of our immigration laws. You find it written into all aspects of our laws.

There are various laws and regulations that require certain removable aliens to be detained. Some criminals and those who pose a terrorist or security threat must be detained. Others may be detained or have a reasonable bond set if they are a danger to the community and/or are a flight risk. A lack of strong ties to the U.S. or the lack of any legally valid basis for remaining here generally indicate that the individual may be a flight risk.

If a parent is detained for one of the above reasons, then obviously the child cannot be kept with the parent in an adult detention facility and must be placed elsewhere. Undocumented children are not kept in immigration jails. Under the Flores v. Reno class action settlement, such children must be placed in the “least restrictive” setting appropriate to their age and needs. This might be a licensed group home or foster home, if no other relative is available. They go to school, receive medical care, counseling, etc.

Homeland Security has built family detention centers with family living units, but there are tens of thousands more families than can be accommodated. And other class action lawsuits have caused some of these centers to be shut down.

Family separations are thus an unfortunate, albeit temporary, situation that comes with immigration enforcement. Such separation should never be used as a deliberate policy.

Do you want good government or don’t you?

I’m Faith Wellernd and I approve this ad. . .

I believe I am qualified to be Governor of California because I have worked in all the branches of California government for many years, in leadership positions. Most recently I have been Lieutenant Governor and was Acting Governor for nine months while the Governor was recovering from heart surgery.

The problems we face are complicated and there are no simple answers or guarantees that we will overcome them. I can only promise that I will work hard and do my best to find those answers. I would like to lower taxes but only if we can meet the needs of the people of this State without spending as much as we spend now.

My opponent, Ernest Phelluh, would also make a good Governor. He has a great deal of experience and always does a good job. He is honest and sincere. He believes that California should meet its clean energy goals by emphasizing wind power over solar power. I believe that the emphasis should be more on solar power. So while I fundamentally disagree with him, I understand and respect his point of view.

Here’s some moderately-flattering footage of me digging the first shovelful at the groundbreaking for a new school. Here’s some moderately-flattering footage of Ernest cutting the ribbon on a new transit line.

Please consider both of our records and our platforms and vote for the candidate who you feel would best govern this State. Thank you.

PAID FOR BY THE CALIFORNIA MONEYLESS AND SLIME-FREE PUBLIC CAMPAIGN REFORM FUND

Postcards From the Edge

Postcards From the Edge, Carrie Fisher’s highly autobiographical novel, is made up of two parts, despite its table of contents which lists seven.

The first one-third of the book is written in first person and contains the journal of a Hollywood starlet who is a recovering drug abuser. Her journal is very frank and introspective, clever and nicely written. Her character is very well-developed, not surprisingly, since it is probably a mirror image of the author’s own character. It’s a good portrayal of what growing up in show business can do to fragile egos.

The most powerful and important component of the book is the inner monologue of a hardcore cocaine addict who is in denial. It is brilliant and, as the New York Times calls it, “harrowing”. Boy is that the right word. Fisher interlaces the guy’s monologue with the actress’s journal. The contrasts between the two characters are significant and full of meaning. And it would be hard to read the entirety of the guy’s monologue without the comic relief of her journal entries. The guy puts himself through hell, taking copious amounts of drugs, and reading his first-person account is a little taste of hell itself. But people need to understand that reality. School kids, especially, should read that part. Fisher apparently had swallowed some very strong doses of reality herself.

The last two-thirds of the book is in third-person with very little plot or character development. It shows the actress putting her life and acting career back on track after getting out of drug rehab. It has some funny repartee-type dialogue, some witty narration. But it is nothing like the first part of the book, and probably can be skipped altogether. I don’t know why Fisher made the book so disjointed. Seemingly there just wasn’t enough story to fill a whole book.

 

When does the Depressive phase kick in?

It’s kind of a mania: this book thing. I’m sure for people who are on their second or third book it’s easier to keep things in balance. But I’m a bundle of obsessive thoughts and impulses, with this debut book of mine. It’s out, it’s actually out. It’s listed. It’s on the market. It can be bought and, interestingly, it can also be sold.

In a week or two I’ll officially announce it. They tell me that timing is critical when it comes to PR. Yes, I must personally promote and PR the book. I don’t have a problem with that except my brain wants to work on PR strategy during the night when I should be sleeping so I get up at 3:30 and eat some Cheerios and turn on my computer and do book stuff until my brain starts to shut down around 6 and I can try some more sleeping but it’s never enough to catch me up and so I end up writing sentences like this. I think I’m losing my grip on reality. Maybe it wasn’t such a solid grip in the first place.

Princess Leia's characteristic hairstyle.jpg

It doesn’t help that I’m reading Postcards From the Edge, and thereby seeing and hearing how messed up brains can get. What a powerful book, by the way.

Wait. I feel a random nap coming on. So I must seize the moment. Before my brain realizes it’s time to start in obsessing again about sundry matters: like the precise date and time to announce my book and the precise wording to use that will strike that perfect balance. You know, that perfect balance between obnoxious and apologetic. Somewhere between gangster and Gandhi.

The Memory of Old Jack, selected quotes

[[It may be sad and slow to read but The Memory of Old Jack really is a beautifully written, conceived and executed story about more than just Americana — a story about life’s trauma and how the scars  never leave. Here are some excerpts.]]

Smiting the edge of the porch sharply with his cane as if to set hard reality on the alert, taking careful sight on the stone steps, he lets himself heavily down. . .

Old Jack goes to his accustomed place at the end of the one of the long tables that is occupied, the three others being bare. Thinking to remove neither his coat nor his cap, he sits down in his chair at the angle at which he has drawn it out from the table, and he keeps his left hand gripped onto the crook of his cane. His attitude thus communicates a most tentative and passing relation to the table and the assembled company. . .

Sunset in Eminence

He walks with the effort of a man burdened, a man carrying a great bale or a barrel, who has carried it too far but has not yet found a place convenient to set it down. . .

“Well,” he said, “time will finally make mortals of us all.”  And Burley said: “Yes, if we don’t die first.”

Trees and books

Books are made from trees. . .

It is nice to read a book under a tree. . .

There are many good books about trees. . .

This tree (giant Australian Fig on Exposition Blvd near California Science Center) was big enough to overlook the L.A. Times Festival of Books on Saturday and Sunday. . .