Shorelines And Shorebirds

In the evening at the shoreline, you will find flocks of sanderlings, sandpipers, gulls, Caspian terns, dowitchers, all feeding when the water recedes before scuttling away as the water floods back.

You will also find the Western Snowy Plover, a threatened shorebird that is the focus of a National Park Service protected habitat program.

When you first spot these little guys from a distance, they look like fuzzy golf balls, huddled among the stones and the other birds, helpless and fragile. There are approximately 2300 of them remaining on the Pacific Coast, and up to 100 of these can be found in the Golden Gate National Recreation Area, one of the treasures of the Bay Area, which stretches from Point Reyes National Seashore in the north to the Phleger Estate near Woodside.

They are the reasons the National Park Service is implementing the idea of "Sharing the Beach," and why dogs need to be kept on a leash between Sloat and the Beach Chalet. How would you like it if you were chased by a massive furry beast many times your size, or if a kite looked like a predator?

These birds need to be undisturbed to conserve their energy for breeding purposes. They have been on this coast for a very long time; it is their natural habitat. People might ask, "Can't they go somewhere else?" No, that's not how evolution works. And natural selection does not include oil spills, massive luxury development, careless littering of food that attracts predators.

If we are clever enough to exploit the Earth for resources, we also need to be clever enough to preserve it, to control and hopefully repair the damages we inflict. It is our ethical responsibility.

Snowy plovers--and all threatened and endangered species--need our help, now more than ever, because the administration is gutting the EPA and the Endangered Species Act.

Interior Secretary Dirk Kempthorne says they are streamlining the Endangered Species Act, permitting departments to make their own decisions about what might harm endangered plants and animals, skipping scientific evaluation of any projects, which not only removes the last vestige of value from the Environmental Pillaging Agency, but also, in the words of Kempthorne, works 'to ensure that the Endangered Species Act would not be used as a “back door” to regulate the gases blamed for global warming.'

That last statement needs no comment. It is appallingly disingenuous, deceptive, and corrupt. Kempthorne is well named Dirk, as he is thrusting his namesake into the heart of the world, into everything more important than the coffers of the corporations that he and his president serve.

This makes me very angry.

There is no sense of shame in this administration, increasingly acting only at the behest of vocal and affluent minorities. There is a crisis, increasing as we are distracted by the campaign for a new administration. (Were you also aware they are now trying to label contraceptives as a form of abortion?)

As the most dominant, technologically-advantaged species on the planet, we are stewards of the world around us. Stewardship is not about consumption, but about preservation, and that is what the Park Service is trying to do, and their job may have just been made more difficult.

The silver lining, from a selfish respect, is that it has, at least for now, eliminated some of the many possibilities for future careers that I have been juggling. Gone are English Literature, Linguistics, History, any of the ivory towered academic realms that cannot be applied to preserving the world.

Olympic Spoil(er)s--Proceed With Caution

Michael Phelps is unbelievable. 8 for 8 in gold medals, in the eighth month of '08, and the majority were world records.

Frankly, all the other swimmers were like the blaster bolts that Han Solo shot at Darth Vader in The Empire Strikes Back.

What's also impressive is, even considering the massive tape delay, within minutes of the airing of the clinching victory in the men's 4 x 100m relay, a commercial from Visa was broadcast, congratulating Phelps, and NBC was advertising Michael Phelps: A Champion's Champion, or some such titled highlight reel.

It makes you wonder how they could be so prepared. One might think it was a little contrived, if the final race wasn't a relay race in which Phelps swam the third of four legs. It it was really a ratings-targeting scam, it would have been scripted to finish with an individual event.

It also is useful to remember that prior to any major sporting event such as the Super Bowl, merchandising gurus are armed for any eventuality; hence the availability on eBay of New England Patriots "19-0" shirts, caps, shot glasses, brooms, ceremonial muskets, etc.

Which makes you wonder about the possibilities if Phelps had come up short.

"Mark Spitz: Still The Best There Ever Was."

"Michael Phelps: Such A Crushing Anti-Climax."

The 49 Line

It was one of the older, rustier, more worn-down Muni buses that turned onto Van Ness and stopped to pick us up. It squeaked and jolted and bounced along the street toward Market Street, and beyond that, the turn onto Mission. In the window of a ramshackle apartment building, I saw a sign reading "Free Marilyn Buck".

I had never heard of Marilyn Buck until today. Clearly, she is one of many contradictory figures in the world. It is hard to fault her causes, sovereignty for minorities, anti-racism, and anti-imperialism. It is a harder question to judge her participation in violent movements. Do any ends justify the use of violence? Terrorists would say yes, but so would the instigators of the American Revolution. Martin Luther King Jr and Gandhi would say no, but they were both assassinated.

At the second bus stop, a middle-aged Asian man climbed through the back door of the bus, and the driver yelled at him over the PA system, making him come up to the front to show his transfer. Trilingual signs on the doors have always said to enter at the front door only, but that has rarely been observed, or particularly enforced. But Muni is undergoing a budget crisis, and needs to make sure that fares are being paid, and really, it is fair to expect every passenger to pay to use public transit.

As the bus ride continued, the driver continued to yell and scold and make passengers who got on at the back disembark and come back through the front door, telling us, "Muni is changing, people. You have to get on at the front," and telling us that she could flag down a police officer to cite those in violation. Passengers who were thus scolded looked confused, then disbelieving, or they laughed, or they looked indignant, probably all to conceal a bit of embarrassment.

No one likes to be the target of angry yelling.

The driver was probably doing them a favor in trying to inculcate front-door entry, but it sure didn't make for a friendly, relaxed trip, and it wasn't like the driver was doing it out of compassion. She was doing her job.

One problem with big cities is a lack of friendliness, for whatever reason: language barriers, fear, poverty and resentment, just too damn many people in too small of an area, like a crowded bus.

At the 24th and Mission Bart Station, a well-dressed man with a bullhorn was preaching in front of a banner for the Iglesia Pentecostal Rey de Reyes, or something like the Pentecostal Church of the King of Kings. "Yo soy la luz, la verdad, y la vida", his banner read, the light, the truth, and the life being the rough translation. "Escapa por tu vida . . . Cristo viene!" I think this read "Run for your life, Christ is coming!" What is the strength of a religion that asks you to fear the ostensible savior? Granted, the message is more nuanced than that, in that there can also be the interpretation of hurrying to find a better life before Christ comes knocking, but the element of fear is undeniable.

In the context of this fear, Michael Savage, the hatemonger from SF conservative radio who called the Quran a 'hateful little book', just looks ridiculous. Every religion is a mix of hope and fear, reward and punishment. The problem is what people do in the name of the religion, which often has very little to do with the religion itself.

And when people preach and yell about religion, it just doesn't feel very friendly. It just doesn't feel like they are preaching for our benefit, but for their own.

There are no easy answers to be had about anything to do with people, whether it is a person such as Marilyn Buck or a street preacher, and sometimes conflict is just conflict, such as between the bus driver and the passengers, and the only thing you can do is get off the bus, go to a coffee shop, and buy a chai latte, to which you can add sugar and cinnamon, and enjoy the quiet.

War

I could talk about how scared I am with Russia occupying Georgia, saying the world can forget about Georgia's territorial integrity. I could talk about the hypocrisy of George W. Bush telling Russia that violence is not the answer. I could talk about the political drama of the US now sending aid and troops into Georgia.

But all I can think about are the Georgians and South Ossetians dying and wounded and left homeless by bombs and bullets.

"Beat LA"

Sunday afternoon, Vaughn and I were sitting by the Bay, enjoying garlic fries, the occasional breeze from McCovey Cove, the emerald green of the diamond, a sell-out crowd, lemonade, and free hats. And, of course, Giants-Dodgers.

Baseball is history, the immortality of narrative. Willie Mays. Joe DiMaggio growing up in San Francisco, the son of a fisherman. Pee Wee Reese, son of Kentucky, putting his arm around Jackie Robinson. Lou Gehrig and Babe Ruth. Honus Wagner versus Ty Cobb. The tragedy of Roberto Clemente dying in a plane crash at sea while on a charity mission.

Baseball is also the crack of the bat, the pristine foul lines, the ball sailing into the gap, outfielders diving full length to snag the ball. It is the neat rhythm of a double play, shortstop to second to first, or a perfectly placed sacrifice bunt, advancing runners through small ball (also known as the celebration of having no more power hitters since Bonds left).

But mostly, of course, it is about the hatred of all things Dodger.

It isn't that there is anything rational to the hatred. We share the same time zone. It's just a ball game. It's not like there's something really worth hating them for, like if they lived in a different country or gave a different name to their god.

But still, they're the Dodgers.






And this is what the world is all about: a pitchers' duel between Matt Cain and Chad Billingsley, Randy Winn (whom I've loved since he won the game I attended against the Nationals last year with an extra-innings base hit) and Aaron Rowand wreaking havoc for the Giants, Andre Ethier and Matt Kemp belting triples for the Dodgers. The Giants were leading until Manny Ramirez, late of Boston, doubled in two runs in the top of the seventh, prompting the Dodger fan next to us to propose marriage to Manny. I don't think his girlfriend objected, because she was a Dodgers fan too. I think she would understand the need to sacrifice for the greater good.

It has been a tough year for the Giants, full rebuilding mode, with young players peaking and falling, and the Giants out of the race before the season started, or so it seemed. And the Dodgers are in the pennant race, especially after getting Ramirez. It is fundamentally wrong for the Dodgers to be winning and the Giants to be losing.

But that is part of the fascination of baseball. Every day is a new day, a microcosm of the season as a whole; the best hitters only succeed 1/3 of the time, and the best teams lose more than that. If you stake all your hopes on your team winning every day, you're going to be miserable. It teaches patience, and an appreciation for the small matchups, the individual moments of the game and the visceral satisfactions they provide.

At least Jeff Kent had a rough day; after burning his bridges on his way out of town, the man went from hero to hated.

After Ramirez's double, the crowd was deflated, and the early emigration began.

Then, in the bottom of the ninth, everything changed. The Giants trailed, 4-3. The scoreboard flashed a "Rally Time" message, and the PA announcer started exhorting us to make some noise, and like a Pavlovian response, more than 40,000 people suddenly began to chant, "BEAT L. A.! BEAT L.A.!" All at once, 40,000 people were focusing their will on crushing that of 25 men in Dodger Blue.

Randy Winn singled hard down the right field line. Aaron Rowand singled. Runners on first and second. The Dodgers fans next to us (who had been polite and gracious all day, it has to be said) looked concerned, and started shrinking into themselves, a nonverbal "Oh shit" as the chants and stamping to "Beat LA!" rose in volume.

Omar Vizquel pinch hit, looking to sacrifice the runners along, but only popped out weakly to the catcher. Jose Castillo came up and grounded the ball down the third base line, with Casey Blake prepared to field and start a game-ending double play.

I don't know for sure that the crowd got into Blake's head, but he booted the ball. Everybody safe. Bases freaking loaded.

Emmanuel Burriss made contact, sending the ball up the middle. The pitcher might have been able to field it cleanly, but he didn't, and they only managed to force Castillo at second base. No double play. Rowand to third. Winn tied the game. Eugenio Velez, another of the young Giants, also hit the ball, not hard, but in the right place. The Dodgers shortstop kept it in the infield, but didn't stand a chance, Burriss sliding headfirst through the dirt into second base and Rowand sprinting home.

Unbelievable. The Giants aren't going to do much this year, but they have heart, and I feel like I am watching something good starting to grow.

And best of all, if only temporarily, we pulled the Dodgers a game and a half back of the Diamondbacks.

We beat L.A.

Sunday Ironies

Irony of the Day, Part I

I saw a bumper sticker today that read "clearbumper.com." Granted, that is an ad for some sort of bumper scratch protection nonsense, but still, on the surface, how ironic is it for a bumper sticker touting 'clear bumpers'?

Irony of the Day, Part II

Now that Barack Obama is touting a compromise with Republicans on off-shore drilling, Republicans are not so much hailing his willingness to compromise as attacking his political inconstancy. You know, since John McCain already switched his stance on off-shore drilling way back in June.

The value of off-shore drilling is not the question today, even though what people don't discuss is that any benefits to the country would not appear for years and years. The only benefits now would be to oil companies. Surprise, surprise.

I don't support Obama's decision to support off-shore drilling. Off-shore drilling in this context, at this time, is not right. It is not the right decision for the environment or in the context of finding resources. And his justification for the compromise, using it to help set goals to reduce oil consumption within 20 years, is unbalanced. Goals can be defered; allowing oil drilling is tangible and immediate.

The irony is that when Obama speaks up in agreement with Republicans, they attack him for it. This is the problem with our political discourse today.

To be fair to oil-mongering Republicans, though, Dick Cheney has a certain integrity: he looks mean, and he is mean.