From A Bird's Eye View

Posted in Family

The Fixing of Dana’s Heart

April 1, 2013By Sparrow/WatsonComments:30 Comments

by Bob Sparrow

Mr. Bell’s Fixit Shop was Dana’s favorite book as a toddler. We read it to her so many times, that by the time she was two and a half, she had it memorized, literally. I could just turn the page, she’d see the picture and recite, word-for-word, what was written. That remarkable recall memory would later serve her well in school. Mr. Bell had a sign in front of his shop that read, ‘I Can Fix Everything But Broken Hearts’. Cutting to the chase, predictably he’s able to repair a doll for Jill that mends her broken heart. In this tale of life imitating art, Dana had a heart in need of fixing. Playing the role of Mr. Bell was Dr. Alfredo Trento, Director of the Cardiothoracic Division at ‘his shop’, Cedars-Sinai Hospital in West Hollywood.

Dana is the world’s best patient. We visited her as she was lying in pre-op, cracking jokes, pulling faces in her new ‘O.R. hat’ (see photo below) and speculating on whether they are going to insert a human, pig or cow replacement valve in her heart. She concludes it’s down to a pig or human, as the Chick-fil-A cows have once again mounted a strong ad campaign in favor of the pig value.

Dana tells us that she’s made cookies for all her O.R. and I.C.U. caregivers and put them in little ‘Thank You’ bags. She told the hospital staff, “If you do a good job, you’ll get a cookie”. If you’ve tasted Dana’s cookies, you know that’s a great incentive! They wheeled her into the O.R. cracking up and I cautioned her to ‘lie very still’ during the operation. Dr. Trento tells us that the operation will take approximately 5 hours (there’s probably no smoke breaks in there) and that he won’t know what valve he’ll use until he looks at the heart. Husband Joe is hoping they use a human valve because he knows that Dana is such an animal lover that if they use a pig valve, as a ‘Thank You’ gesture she will want to get a pot belly pig as a pet.

In an hour we get a call from a nurse inside the O.R. (one of the great uses of cell phones) that the operation is going well; in three and a half hours we get another call telling us that the surgery has been successfully completed and they are now sewing her up. Shortly thereafter Dr. Trento comes out to the waiting room to tell us that everything went very well – we all breathed a very heavy collective sigh of relief.

We visited Dana about an hour later in I.C.U. where there are no pictured allowed, but when asked about the picture I took at the right, I told them it was an artist’s rendering that I just drew. I’m pretty sure they didn’t believe me, but they let me keep the picture anyway. She was in quite a bit of pain up to 12 hours after the operation, but the next morning, less than 24 hours after the operation, Dana got out of bed and walked around the I.C.U. – pulling all the tubes and bags along with her. It looked like she was walking with R2D2. I think she set a new Cedars-Sinai record for the two laps she completed. There is a lung transplant patient two rooms down that is challenging that, but I think Dana’s got it.

Wednesday is ‘moving day’ from I.C.U. to ‘I Don’t See You’ or whatever the regular rooms are called. Her new room is decorated with lots of flowers and balloons – thank you! She’s feeling pretty good for someone who just had her chest cracked open – thanks to ‘better living through chemistry’. The doctors and nurses at Cedars-Sinai are amazing – could not ask for better care! I felt like we should leave them a tip or something, but instead I’ll just give them a great recommendation.

On day five, her last full day in the hospital, Dana is visited by a nurse that asks if she would like to talk with a social worker. No. Someone from the clergy, a minister, priest or rabbi? No. How about a ‘Volunteer Dog’? YES!!! Yep, hospitals now provide dogs that come in and visit patients. Pictured here is a white Labrador named Emma, who stopped by to see Dana and do a little ‘Lab Work’.

Dana’s recovery has been remarkable; she is back to being her normal high-energy self, in fact our only concern is that they say her ‘new heart’ is going to give her more energy! Welcome back Darlin’ Dana!!

Posted in Family • travel

Wonders in the Desert – Family

March 25, 2013By Sparrow/WatsonComments:3 Comments

by Bob Sparrow

I was amazed again by the wonders of the desert on my journey last week, but this time in a totally different way. Those who have followed us here know my fascination with places like Death Valley and Joshua Tree; last week’s journey took me to another desert, the Sonoran in southern Arizona, and the wonders I saw there were our brother, Jack’s kids and grand kids – no hiking and camping on this trip.

But the first stop along the way was to my sister, Suzanne and her husband, Al’s beautiful home in the private golf community of Desert Highlands in Scottsdale, about as far from camping as I could have gotten. Linda and I made the stop in Scottsdale on our way to Tucson not only to see Suzanne and Al, but to see if it was true what they were saying about their new dog, Dash

It didn’t take long to see that it was true, Dash was now in full control of Suzanne, Al and all that goes on around the house . . . no, make that their lives. It was easy to see why this dog commanded such attention – he is adorable. When I found us all talking baby talk to the dog, I knew it was time to hit the road. We headed south, confident that the newest member of our family had his owners firmly in control.

Abby, Colin, Katie, Shelley

Look up the word ‘family’ and you’ll find everything from ‘a taxonomic group containing one or more genera’ to ‘a loose affiliation of gangsters in charge of organized criminal activity’. What you should see is a picture of the Watson family – Colin, Shelley, Katie, Abby and Murphy, the dog. They are a fun-loving family full of caring, intelligent, thoughtful, humorous, loving people. Add in nephew, Matt and kids Jackson and Madelyn, and you’ve got quite an assembly of people I just love being around. Matt is a single dad who has his own physical therapy business; he is an intelligent, spiritual man who has a serious side, but is also one of the funniest people I know. My cheeks hurt from laughing when I with him. And I’m related to them all – which some say adds credence to the ‘me being adopted’ theory.

Murphy

Katie (15) and Abby (12) both play tennis, very well, I might add. They’ll be stars of their high school team, probably earn scholarships to a highly regarded academic college (they’re both straight A students) and enjoy the game of tennis the rest of their lives. Unlike most kids and parent involved in youth athletics these days, they have neither the illusion nor the desire to become

Jackson, Matt, Madelyn

professional athletes – rather refreshing. If ever my faith needed to be restored in our youth, our future, it was – in straight sets.

After spending a very enjoyable ‘family’ weekend, we stopped in Phoenix on our way home to have breakfast with Linda’s sister and her husband, Starlet and Donnie, who, you guessed it, are great people!

I have come to enjoy the wonders of the desert; the mild days this time of year, the gentle nights; always amazed at how things not only live in this environment, but flourish. And so it is with family there; I enjoy the smell of Matt’s chicken on the barbeque, the noise of kids at play in the pool, Colin’s British accent, Shelley’s make-you-feel-comfortable style, but mostly I enjoy the wonder of family and feel so very fortunate that Linda and I are so blessed with great family.

Donnie & Starlet

If you’re reading this on Monday morning, most of you know that I will be a bit preoccupied with my immediate family – daughter Dana is undergoing heart surgery this morning. I’m looking forward to next writing about her successful recovery.

Posted in opinion

LIVING IN THE AGE OF “TMI”

March 18, 2013By Sparrow/WatsonComments:1 Comment

By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

This year marks the twenty-fifth anniversary of a wonderful little book, “All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten”, by Reverend Robert Fulghum. For those of you too young – or too old – to remember, it included an essay proposing that the basic rules we learn as children teach us everything we need to get along as adults. It contains a list of 16 suggestions for a better life, ostensibly gleaned from the copious notes Fulghum took while still in elementary school.

I re-read his essay the other day and had to admit that there were some real gems on the list: play fair, clean up your own mess, and a current favorite of mine – take a nap every afternoon. All in all, I think his essay has held up pretty well after 25 years. With one notable exception. Reverend Fulghum’s #1 piece of advice was “Share Everything”.

It would appear that this particular tidbit has been taken a bit too literally. At some point between 1988 and now, it has become fashionable to SHARE EVERYTHING. Been in a public place lately? I’m betting that people on cell phones have “shared” lots of information with you. I’ve heard conversations about cheating husbands, women who neglect their children, steamy dating details and so many medical updates I could write for Web MD. Put a cell phone in someone’s hands in the public square and suddenly no detail is too intimate to share with the world.

Facebook is so enamored with the notion of sharing that it has a “Share” button, which makes it easy to delight our friends and family with an up-to-the-minute status of our activities. Personally, I love seeing pictures of my friends and their kids and animals. I even enjoy vacation pictures. But like everything else, some people have taken it to excess. I’ve read about colonoscopies, induced labor and ear wax. One particular bugaboo of mine is people who take pictures of their dinner plate at a restaurant and immediately post it on Facebook. Frankly, I could care less that some chi-chi chef has curled radicchio around a terrine of goat’s liver. I don’t even care about seeing a triple bacon cheeseburger, although that’s more to my liking. Here’s my take – if I wanted to see food on a plate I’d subscribe to Gourmet magazine.

But the most flagrant offender of over-sharing is Al Roker. He recently released a book outlining his journey through gastric bypass surgery. I have nothing against Mr. Roker or even gastric bypass, for that matter. But in the course of an interview Mr. Roker cited a passage from his book about the White House dinner he attended shortly after his operation. He then proceeded to tell the interviewer that – well, I won’t go into detail here but suffice it to say that he soiled his pants.

Talk about TMI! Why in the hell would someone go on national TV and admit that? I can tell you one thing based on personal experience: you will never look at Al Roker in quite the same way again.

But back to Reverend Fulghum’s book. The “share everything” bit notwithstanding, I do think there is a lot of common sense in his list and God knows that is something that is in short supply these days. So in the interest of sharing and promoting common sense, here is his list:

Share everything.
Play fair.
Don’t hit people.
Put things back where you found them.
Clean up your own mess.
Don’t take things that aren’t yours.
Say you’re sorry when you hurt somebody.
Wash your hands before you eat.
Flush.
Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.
Live a balanced life – learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some.
Take a nap every afternoon.
When you go out in the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands and stick together.
Be aware of wonder. Remember the little seed in the Styrofoam cup: the roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that.
Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup – they all die. So do we.
And then remember the Dick-and-Jane books and the first word you learned – the biggest word of all – LOOK.

And while we’re thinking of sharing, why not share this blog with your friends and ask them to subscribe? Thanks!

Posted in travel

Another Walk in the Park: JOSHUA TREE NATIONAL – Part II

March 13, 2013By Sparrow/WatsonComments:1 Comment

by Bob Sparrow

Saturday morning:

Anyone that tells you they slept like a baby in a sleeping bag in a tent on a windy night in a public campground is lying, or the baby was colicky. The night passed slowly, but I knew I’d feel better in the morning after a cup of coffee and a nice warm shower. I settled for a cup of coffee, there were no showers.

We’ve got three key destinations planned for the day, so we set out early for the first one, The Hall of Horrors. ‘The Hall’ is a natural tunnel through a large rock formation, that is not easily found, but once found, is spectacular.

Here is a video of our trip through the Hall of Horrors as found on YouTube – it is really cool.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g3NuhY3oN7c (click on or copy and paste into your URL)

Our next hike was the loop to the Lost Horse Mine. To quote the parks literature on the mine, “the story of the Lost Horse Mine if filled with cowboy gun fights, cattle rustlers, horse thieves, the lure of gold and some sticky-fingered miners”. Surprisingly there were a lot of gold mine in the Mojave Desert, over 300, but most were very unproductive, the Lost Horse Mine was an exception. Over 10,000 ounces of gold and 16,000 ounces of silver (worth about $5 million today) were mined between 1894 and 1931. We had perfect weather for this 6+ mile hike and found the history of the mine and the area around it fascinating.

Our final destination for the day was Keys View – thank goodness it was drivable as we were low on water, but had plenty of wine; so we drove there before sundown, snapped the neck off a bottle of Pinot Noir and enjoyed the view. There was an interesting picture on a plaque at Keys View showing what the view would look like if it were smoggy – I guess Southern Californians are used to seeing things that way, so they didn’t want to disappoint anyone who made the drive up there and found that the air wasn’t something you could sink your teeth into.

Our view on this day was crystal clear. To the south we could see the Salton Sea, and beyond was a mountain at the US-Mexico boarder. In front of us some 5,000 feet below was a very visible San Andreas Fault, running the length of the Coachella Valley, from Palms Springs to Indio. In the distance you could see Mt. San Jacinto and Mt. San Gorgonio, both over 10,000 feet and snow-capped at this time of year. Finally, we could see the bottom of our wine glasses, which meant it was time to head back to camp for a hot shower and dinner. Oh yeah, just dinner.

Dr. Chuck Wagon had prepared a delightful repast featuring cooked-over-the-fire chicken and his ‘special potatoes’ . . . and some more wine.

Hiking affords one a lot of time to just walk and wonder, not bothered with interruptions or to-do lists. Hiking in the desert is particularly inspiring as one sees this abundance of flora and fauna and wonder why and how they manage to not just survive, but thrive in this environment.

To me the desert is amazing; it is so desolate, yet filled with so many wonders. No one made the Indians, miners and ranchers stay in the desert, but many remained and managed to carve out a living in this seemingly god-forsaken place. The reality is that it’s not god-forsaken, there are an amazing number of things living in the desert.

We sit around the campfire as the sky turns incredibly black and the star shine literary like diamonds. We can hear some critters in the distance and the popping of the logs on the campfire. It was a good day . . . no, it was a great day!

Camping fee: $10 a night
Entrance to the park: $15
Sharing stories around the campfire with Trail Boss, Greeter, Sparky and Chuck Wagon: Priceless

Posted in travel

Another Walk in the Park: JOSHUA TREE NATIONAL – Part I

March 11, 2013By Sparrow/WatsonComments:2 Comments

Cholla Cactus

by Bob Sparrow

It was all I could do to make a left turn when traveling southeast on Interstate 10 through the Mojave Desert. The usual right turn takes me into the Palm Spring/Palm Desert communities where for years I’ve gone to relax, play golf and perhaps partake of a margarita, maybe two. But last week, turning left took me into Joshua Tree National Park where hiking and camping replaced golf and margaritas. ‘The Boys’ and I planned to camp and spend the weekend hiking just to see what was shakin’ around the San Andreas Fault, which runs through the park. Even though I’ve lived within two hours of ‘Josh’ (we’re now on a first-name basis), I had never been there. Apparently I’m not the only one late to this party, Joshua Tree was a mere National Monument (at slightly larger than the state of Rhode Island it was quite a large monument!) until as recently as 1994, when it finally became a National Park.

‘The Boys’ are:

Sparky, Avalanche, Greeter, Trail Boss

– Patrick ‘Trail Boss’ Michael, who plans the trips, draws the permits, has all the trail maps, plans the menu and brings the firewood. He’s an engineer by trade – what a surprise!

– Bob ‘Sparky’ Pacelli, who insists we each carry a walkie-talkie even though we never get more than 20 feet from each other during the entire weekend. The only time the walkie-talkies were used was when he heard from a trucker on Interstate 10 trying to get lucky.

– Rick ‘Greeter’ Sullivan, the friendliest man on the trail; greets everyone he meets with his big, easy smile. If he’s at your campfire make sure you have plenty of wood, ‘cause he’s got plenty of stories.

– Richard ‘Chuck Wagon’ Wade, who is not a hiker, but asked if he could come along and cook. Hell yeah! Since he’s a forensic doctor with a degree from Harvard, we respectfully call him Dr. Chuck Wagon.

– My nickname is ‘Avalanche’ because I used to come down a hill fairly quickly, that was then, now they’re thinking about changing my name to ‘Lava Floe’ or ‘Petrified Rock’.

Dr. Chuck Wagon

We entered the park at the Cottonwood Springs entrance, which is at the far southeastern corner; our campsite was at the Black Rock Nature Center, which is at the far northwestern corner, so it allowed us to drive through the middle of the park (about 65 miles), stopping along the way when we found something interesting.

Bra & Shoe Tree

The first interesting site we saw was the rare ‘Bra & Shoe Tree’ (photo left). Nope, not sure how they got there, but I’d appreciate it if the person who put them there would call my wife and explain – she’s not sure what kind of camping we were doing.

Our first stop was right inside the gate where there is a good long hike (Lost Palms Oasis) and a good short one (Mastodon Peak). Given that we had ‘miles to go before we sleep’ we took the shorter hike, which took us past the old Mastodon Gold Mine and ultimately to Mastodon Peak which provided us a great view of the Salton Sea and the namesake rock, the one that looks like a mastodon.

Joshua Tree is filled with all kinds of interesting rock formation, many are named after what they look like – Skull Rock, where we stopped to hike

and have lunch, is a good example. The rock formation in the photo below didn’t have a name that we knew about, so we made up one: ‘Four Frogs Fornicating’ – if you look at it long enough and from just the right angle maybe you’ll see it, but probably not. I don’t think our name will make it into the National Park Registry.

The road through the park has a good number of pullouts and informational plaques that help explain what lies in front of you, like a beautiful Joshua Trees forest, or a row of those pretty, but prickly cholla cactus or just a collection of interestingly-shaped rocks, many of them with rock climbers on them.

Since ‘Dr. Chuck Wagon’ wasn’t getting in until the next morning, after we got to our campsite and pitched our tent, we decided to go into town for dinner. Town, in this case was Yucca Valley, although we could have opted for the bustling burg of Twentynine Palms. We were told about a place just out of Yucca Valley called ‘Pioneertown’, where a movie set of a western town was built in the 40’s and a number of western movie and tv series were shot there staring the likes of Roy Rogers, Gene Autry and the Cisco Kid to name a few. We had dinner at an old western saloon there called Pappy & Harriet’s. OK, we weren’t exactly ‘roughing’ it, but we did drive back to the park after dinner and retire to our tent for the night.

Four Frogs Fornicating

Coming on Wednesday – Part II

Treks to the Lost Horse Mind, Keys View and the Hall of Horrors

Posted in opinion

I’VE PEAKED IN MY OWN BACK YARD

March 4, 2013By Sparrow/WatsonComments:3 Comments

By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

Like many people who live close to a landmark, I am completely clueless about the one near me, Pinnacle Peak. Which is particularly pathetic because I’ve lived at the base of it for 15 years. It serves as a beacon of sorts, providing a touchstone to remind us of just how far away we are from home when we travel around the Valley of the Sun. So, let’s just say hypothetically that one of us is lost and the other won’t ask for directions, we just look for “the Peak” and, voila!, we know which direction is home.

Normally the most attention I pay to it is when I’m playing golf and spot some adroit rock climbers who have scaled its summit. Usually they will wave to us golfers. We always wave back, admiring their gumption – and youth. I usually three-putt those greens due to the obvious distraction. Or at least that’s my story this month.

But curiosity got the best of me last week and I decided to do some research on the Peak in my backyard. The first thing that struck me is that the Peak is almost 3200 feet high. That’s the tip, where all those crazy rock climbers look down on all us crazy golfers. That may not seem high to those of you who live in the mountains, but to those of us in the desert, this is our Mount Whitney.

The area around Pinnacle Peak was originally used by the Hohokam Indians for hunting and food gathering. Later, settlers began to use the area for ranching and mining, and finally, the whole darn place was overrun by golf courses and homes. One vestige of the mining era is that the best cheeseburger in the world can be found Greaswood Flats, an old miners shack right across from the Peak.

In 1994 the city of Scottsdale decided to make Pinnacle Peak a park and built a trail so that everyone could enjoy its beauty. The trail is 3.5 miles roundtrip and will leave you begging for an iron lung on the way up. They conveniently have provided a bench at “Grandview”which they say is so you can sit and admire the the spectacular vista. Usually all I see are my shoelaces, since my head is buried between my knees in an effort to regain regular respiration – and some dignity. The trail only climbs 500 feet from the trailhead to the top, but the older I get the steeper it becomes. I see some young people run the entire trail which I think is highly suspicious and may require some drug testing.

If gasping for air isn’t enough to entice you, you might be attracted to the beautiful plants and animals that inhabit the area. You’re likely to see bobcats, Gila monsters and Diamondbacks – and not the ones with a bat in their hands. But if you do see them you don’t want to run too far off the trail or you might get stuck in a jumping cholla plant, a vicious cactus that does actually jump out and stab you with it’s fishhook spines.

I have promised myself that I will hike the trail more regularly this spring in the fervent hope that I will get in better shape. And, seriously, there is nothing more beautiful than the cactus flowers in the spring. If nothing else, I have found a practical use for the stopping point at “Grandview” – it is the perfect place from which to throw my golf clubs off into a deep, dark crevice, never to annoy me again.

Posted in opinion

THE OSCARS AND THE OSCARS PARTY IN ‘THE HEIGHTS’

February 25, 2013By Sparrow/WatsonComments:7 Comments

by Bob Sparrow

The ‘Oscars’ or The Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences (Sciences?) Awards Show as they are more pretentiously called, is the final period, at the end of a ‘Let’s Pat Ourselves on the Back Season’ sentence. It is a season that includes, but is not limited to, the ‘Peoples Choice Awards’ (as apposed to the Vegetable’s Choice Awards), the Golden Globes, Writer’s Guild of America Awards, Critic’s Choice Awards, The Kennedy Center Awards and The Screen Actor’s Guild Award. It’s like Little League, where no one is allowed to strike out and everyone gets a trophy at the end of the season.

Why so many award shows? Because WE’LL WATCH THEM! We’re interested in the stars being feted despite the fact that these were the kids in school who were really good at making up stories (liars) and pretending to be someone else (psychotics). These were the creative ones who didn’t always fit into the mainstream, but occasionally fit into a dumpster by a high school bully. We follow their lives maybe because they are so unlike ours – they’re good looking , rich and have their own therapist. They also set the standard for partying.

It was thus with much enthusiasm that I accepted an invitation to Sunday’s ‘Oscars Extravaganza’ at the estate of Michael and Tanis Nelson, of the Skyline Heights Nelsons. Michael is a tennis pro who’s no stranger to Wimbledon (of course he had to buy a ticket every time) and Tanis, who is a professor of very undergraduate students in the Inland Empire. Skyline Heights, for those unfamiliar with the southern California environs, is a tony, OC hillside neighborhood overlooking the Pacific Ocean, the Fashion Island Mall and the Santa Ana Sand & Gravel Quarry. For security, the denizens of ‘The Heights’ chose not to put up a guard gate and sentry, but rather just have some exceptionally mean dogs roam the streets.

The neighborhood gets excited for an Oscar party as everyone in ‘The Heights’ believes they look like a famous actor or actress. At these parties you’ll hear the ladies ask one another ‘who’ they are wearing, while the men grumble innocuously of their pork belly investment portfolios. So the parties are always well attended, elegant and superciliously delightful.

The Nelson gala was no exception. A ‘Brown Welcome Mat’ served as the ‘Red Carpet’ and once inside the Nelsons had meticulously decorated each room in an ‘Oscar theme’ . . .

– There was the ‘Lincoln Room’, where one had to negotiate to emancipate their dinner from the kitchen help

– The ‘Les Mis Room’ where you could act out a scene from the movie only if you sang out of tune and wore that hideous Russell Crowe hat

– There was also the ‘Beast of the Southern Wild Room’ where you could actually adopt a baby from Africa

Then there was the popular ‘Video Room’ where guests could opine into a camera on various political and environmental issues of the day, whether they had any real knowledge of them or not. The videos were then streamed on a huge screen in the Nelson ‘Home Theater Room’ throughout the evening. Well, not all the videos are streamed, only those espousing a liberal point of view.

The Nelsons even provided ‘Seat Replacers’, so when you excused yourself to the restroom someone (looking very much like you) would rush in from out of nowhere and take your place in an animated conversation until your return. This way the party always looked full and fun.

The piece de résistance was the Master of Ceremonies, who was hired by the Nelson to preside over the evening; I was hoping it was going to be Billy Crystal, he’s my favorite, but it was James Franco. I think Franco did a decent job in the movie 127 Hours, where he portrayed a man who had to cut off his arm to save his life when it became lodged between two rocks in a remote Utah canyon. At the Oscars two years ago, Franco, as MC, played a man with his brain lodged between two rocks and should have stayed in a remote Utah canyon. I suppose the Nelsons got him cheaply.

Dinner included an eclectic, thematic fare that featured, Chips and ‘Fresh Guacamole’, ‘Django Unchained’ and Free Range Chicken, Corn-fed ‘Argo’ beef, ‘Beast of the Southern Wild’ Rice; all served up with a delightful Middle Eastern red wine called ‘Zero Dark Thirsty’. Dessert was the highlight of this remarkable repast as it featured a ‘Life of Pi’ eating contest.

The final Oscar is presented and Michael turns to Tanis and says, “Let’s go to bed so these nice people can go home.” I can’t decide which post-Oscar party to hit, the Vanity Fair bash or the Governor’s Ball, but since I wasn’t invited to either, I go home, slip into something more comfortable and watch a good movie. I love movies.

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Posted in opinion

“THE BOY”

February 18, 2013By Sparrow/WatsonComments:9 Comments

Every dog should have a boy…. Erma Bombeck. I’m sure Ms. Bombeck had a freckle-faced 10-year-old boy in mind when she wrote that. At our house “the boy” is almost 72 years old. But it seems that some things are timeless and not bound by the limits of age.

I should point out that “the boy” has resisted my attempts to get a dog for the past 25 years. Every broach of the subject was met with groans, moans and 87 reasons why we shouldn’t get a dog. Over many of those years he had a point – we were both working long hours, we traveled a lot, we had white carpeting.

But last summer our kids went on vacation and we offered to dog sit. When he thought I wasn’t looking, “the boy” would give the dog treats. And he was perfectly content to sit on the couch with the dog right next to him watching golf tournaments on TV. Over the course of ten days the dog learned all about lip-outs, soft fades and why Tiger Woods will never win another major.

So, as you faithful readers know (and we do thank you for your subscription!), “the boy” was finally worn down enough by last fall that the moans and groans were uttered with less conviction. I pounced on the opportunity and put a down payment on a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. He was born in November and we named him “Dash”. We were finally able to bring him home two weeks ago. That’s when life in the Watson house changed. Forever.

Before Dash came home, “the boy” wanted it made perfectly clear that I was going to be totally responsible for all feeding, training and (this is critical) poop patrol. Dash was going to be tolerated and allowed to live with us just to keep me happy. Yeah, right.

Within 48 hours it became clear that Dash was going to belong to “the boy”. He didn’t want to leave the house for fear the dog would miss him. He admonished me for washing Dash’s face with a bit too much pressure. He got a big stick to take outside to the dog run just in case any wild animal ventured near. And the baby talk? Here’s the best example I can provide: one week after Dash came home “the boy” was watching hockey while Dash and I were in my office watching something educational, like “The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills”. When I decided to retire, I took Dash and walked into the family room to say good night. “The boy” jumped up from his chair, came over to us and starting petting and cooing …”oh, I love you soooo much”, “good-night little sweetheart”, etc. …. to the DOG. He has not jumped up out of a chair like that for me in 20 years.

So now, after 25 years of wanting a dog, I have to fight for equal time. At best, “the boy” and I sit on the couch with Dash in between us. Life is very good at those moments. And truthfully, I love seeing “the boy” so enamored with Dash. Dash has brought us a lot of love and I’m sure has lowered our blood pressure by several points.

However, I should stipulate that “the boy” is not so enamoured that he has picked up poop. Somehow, that is still my responsibility.

Posted in Tributes

A VISIT TO 1919 WITH A GIN RICKEY

February 11, 2013By Sparrow/WatsonComments:

by Bob Sparrow

1919 – 2013 First, let me thank all those who sent their condolences to our family for the passing of our mother; she was an iconic lady who, with our Dad, created an incredibly close and loving family. Sister Suzanne did a great job of writing a fitting tribute last week, as well as the accompanying obituary. As we went through our mother’s effects at her apartment in Sonoma, I was struck by all the things she experienced and the changes that she saw during a life spanning nearly 94 years.

She was born in 1919, only three months after the end of ‘The Great War’ – it wasn’t called World War I until we had another World War and started ascribing Roman numerals to them. Let’s hope we see no more Roman numerals. Woodrow Wilson was president – she had seen 17 different presidents in her life, well, not ‘seen’ them, but . . . you know what I mean. The unusual thing about Wilson’s election was that he was the only presidential candidate to run against two previous presidents, incumbent, William Howard Taft and Teddy Roosevelt who was president before Taft and wanted to try it again – Wilson beat them both. Old ‘Woody’ got elected to a second term promising to keep us out of war, which he didn’t – hard to believe that a politician wouldn’t keep his word.

Mom was born a month after the ratification of the 18^th amendment – that’s the one that prohibited the consumption of alcohol. It wasn’t appealed until she was 24, at which time she immediately went out and ordered a Gin Rickey – a popular ‘highball’ at the time. A year after she was born, the 19^thamendment, which gave women the right to vote, was ratified; never mind that it was introduced into congress in 1878, so it only took 42 years to get through that bureaucratic ‘good ole boy’s club’ – and you thought we have a ‘do nothing’ congress today. OK, we do. And speaking of ‘tools’, the toaster was invented in 1920, but sliced bread wasn’t created until 1928, which makes one wonder what they put in those new toasters.

Railroads were still the most common way to get around, but Henry Ford was changing that with the introduction of the Model T in 1908. In 1919 you could buy one for about $350 – a goodly sum of money in those days. The Wright Brothers flight at Kitty Hawk took place only 16 years before mom was born and the very first commercial flight in the US took place only 5 years before. It’s mind-boggling to think that mom could have met both Orville Wright and Neil Armstrong.

College football’s top team in 1919 was, are you ready for this? Harvard. There was no NFL or NBA; hockey did play for the Stanley Cup, although they didn’t play for it in 1919 due to a flu epidemic. People spent their leisure time roller skating, playing pool, dancing or going to the movies.

Mom probably went to the movies before she was 8, if so, they were silent movies; ‘talkies’ didn’t happened until 1927. Vaudeville was still a popular form of entertainment and as a teenager I’m sure mom didn’t talk on the phone much, OK not at all; telephones were very expensive and not even available in rural areas; most folks still relied on the telegraph to get a message to someone.

Mom was raised in the ‘Roaring 20s’, lived through the Great Depression, traveled from Marin County to San Francisco on a ferry since the Golden Gate Bridge wasn’t built until she was 18. She was married with a 5 month old when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor.

No wonder mom used to just shake her head when she’d see a ‘smartphone’, a self-parking car or a wireless printer, about the only thing that hadn’t changed over the years was the Gin Rickey and maybe that’s why she loved them; it took her back to a simpler time and reminded her of all that she had experienced in a lifetime full of wonder. She did live in interesting times.

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Posted in News

FULL CIRCLE

February 4, 2013By Sparrow/WatsonComments:18 Comments

by Suzanne Sparrow Watson and Bob Sparrow

We are not able to write our usual blog this week. We won’t be able to start your day with a chuckle, either laughing with – or at – our writing. Last Tuesday, our mother passed away as a result of a fall that broke five of her ribs and …well, simply being 94 years old. In a twist that makes you believe in fate, she was transferred from the community hospital in Sonoma to Marin County General. When I heard that news I thought that maybe her life was coming full circle. It was in Marin County that she grew up, met and married our dad, and then raised us three kids. So it was only fitting that Marin County is where she would spend her final days. And in another twist of fate, she died just one day shy of the anniversary of our dad’s death. They were both huge 49er fans and we are now comforted in knowing that they were together to watch their favorite team play in the Super Bowl.

In tribute to her we are posting her obituary:

Barbara Whitman Sparrow, resident of Sonoma, California, passed away on January 29, 2013, just two weeks shy of her 94^th birthday.

Barbara was raised in San Anselmo, California and graduated in 1936 from San Rafael High School. Barbara attended secretarial school in San Francisco after graduation and over the years made good use of her education.

Barbara met her future husband, Jack Sparrow, at San Rafael High and they were married in 1937. They moved to Novato in 1939 and in 1940 they bought the Novato Advance newspaper. At the time it made them the youngest newspaper publishers in California. Together they performed all of the jobs necessary to write, print and distribute the Advance. Barbara learned to use a linotype machine to help out, but her greatest contribution was her reporting of the town’s social events in her columns “A Little Bird Told Me” which was subsequently re-titled “A Bird’s Eye View”.

After Barbara and Jack sold the paper, Jack went into business for himself and Barbara pursued her own career. She held positions at Crocker National Bank and the Novato Unified School District.

Barbara was very active in Novato civic organizations. She was a member of the Order of the Eastern Star, Novato Community Players, and in 1950 was a co-founder of the Novato chapter of the Sunny Hills Guild. She was a member of the Business and Professional Women’s Foundation, serving as the Northern California President for two years. In addition she led Boy Scout troops and volunteered at Novato General Hospital.

In 1977 Barbara and Jack retired in Sonoma. But retirement was not in the cards for Barbara. She took a part-time job at Vineyard Jewelers and worked there well into her 80’s. Barbara was active in Sonoma activities, joining the Sonoma Valley Women’s Association and the Sonoma Swingers golf group. She was also a member of the United Methodist Church in Sonoma.

Barbara is survived by her son Jack Jr. and his wife Sharon of Santa Maria, son Bob and his wife Linda of Orange County, and her daughter Suzanne and her husband Alan Watson, of Scottsdale, Arizona. She is also survived by her five grandchildren Shelley Watson and Matt Sparrow of Tucson, Arizona, Stephanie Shomer of Glendale, Dana Borelli of Monrovia, Jeff Sparrow of Orange County. step-grandson Colin Watson of Walnut Creek and step-grandaughter Wendy Watson Topalian of Leawood, Kansas. Additionally she was blessed to have great grandchildren Katie and Abby Watson of Tucson, AZ., Jackson and Madelyn Sparrow of Tucson, Dylan and Emma Shomer of Glendale, and step-greatgrandsons Matthew and Jake Topalian of Leawood. Barbara is also survived by her brother Neill of Sonoma and sister Geraldine of Sun City, Florida.

Private services will be held by the family. Memorial contributions may be made to the Sunny Hills Children’s Garden, 300 Sunny Hills Drive, San Anselmo, CA. 94960.