From A Bird's Eye View

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.

Posted in Uncategorized

Hoax, Conspiracy Theories and the Truth!

January 28, 2013By Sparrow/WatsonComments:3 Comments

by Bob Sparrow

“The great mass of people will more easily fall victim to a big lie than to a small one.”

Adolf Hitler, Mein Kampf

The recent fiasco surrounding Manti Te’o’s non-existent girlfriend (photo at left shows her in the shower) and things like the 11 million views on YouTube showing how the federal government and the Screen Actors Guild conspired to create the ‘Sandy Hook Hoax’, have me convinced that our culture will not let the facts stand in the way of a good conspiracy theory. Not that people haven’t been lied to by their government, or the Screen Actors Guild for that matter, but as a public service I’d like to put forth the real truth about some of our most popular conspiracies.

If you think that there is a possibility that Michael and Janet Jackson were actually the same person or that the ‘grassy knoll’ was never really examined as thoroughly as it could have been, then you need to read on.

Conspiracy: global warming is a real threat

Supported by: Al Gore, who told us so

Anti-Conspiracy: Global warming is a hoax perpetrated by Carrier, the air conditioning people and a few awning and umbrella companies.

The Truth: My anecdotal findings are that the globe seems to be warmer in the summer, so I lean toward the global warming theory, but it seems to cool down in the winter, so I can’t be sure. I’m going to read Al Gore’s book, An Inconvenient Truth – it’s on the Internet, which he invented.

Conspiracy: Paul McCartney walking barefoot on the Abby Road album cover proves that he was actually dead.

Supported by: Those who had high-tech record players back in the day that could play Beatles records backwards and hear Paul actually say that he was dead at the time.

Anti-Conspiracy: Paul was late for the album photo shoot and forgot to put on his shoes. What amazingly has gone unnoticed over the years is that Ringo is not wearing any underwear in the photo – he is not dead either.

The Truth: Paul is alive and actually came closer to death when a judge told him he had to pay Heather Mill $235 million in his divorce settlement.

Conspiracy: Elvis faked his death

Supported by: Elvis weighed approximately 275 pounds at the time of his ‘supposed’ death, yet the casket ‘they’ say he was buried in weighed only 210 pounds.

Anti-Conspiracy: The king didn’t fake his death, but actually died three days later after finishing second in a chili dog eating contest at the Dunes Hotel in Las Vegas.

The Truth: Elvis’ death has never been certified and rumors fly around this time of year when an elderly duet that looks an awful lot like an aging, 65 pound lighter Elvis and Jimmy Hoffa, appear for their dinner show in Sun City, Las Vegas.

Conspiracy: Shakespeare didn’t write his plays

Supported by: All those who claim to have written them

Anti-Conspiracy: Shakespeare actually wrote the plays, but in a hurry to get to the airport one morning, left them at a table at Starbuck’s where they were ultimately picked up by Francis Bacon, Christopher Marlowe and Woody Allen.

The Truth: Who cares?

Conspiracy: We never landed on the moon

Supported by: A ‘moon set’ was found inside an old cheese warehouse in the New Mexico desert; they also found a man in the warehouse with a large, round, glowing, orange face.

Anti-Conspiracy: No New Mexico license plates were found on the lunar lander.

The Truth: We of course landed on the moon and ended up bringing back some aliens and weather balloons and accidentally left them just outside a warehouse in Roswell, New Mexico.

I may be a little confused about that moon landing thing, but hopefully I’ve cleared up a lot of conspiracies for you theorists out there; although things like, ‘Is wedding cake really a birth control method?’ still remains a mystery to us.

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Posted in News • Tributes

THE DEATH OF A SAN FRANCISCO ICON

January 21, 2013By Sparrow/WatsonComments:4 Comments

By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

San Francisco icons generally come in steel (the Golden Gate Bridge) or concrete (Coit Tower). But sometimes they appear in flesh and blood and that is certainly the case of Vivian and Marion Brown, otherwise known as “the Brown Twins”. The picture at left, in their bright red suits and trademark leopard coats, shows them at the height of their fame, when the world had discovered them. But those of us who “knew them when” had known they were special for a long time.

In 1977 I started a job in the Financial District of San Francisco. It was a fun time – before über traders and panhandlers took over the streets. And, let’s face it, it is one of the best cities on Earth to experience quirkiness. One particularly nice day I took a walk from my office on Montgomery Street up to Union Square. Somewhere on Post Street I spotted two middle-aged women, identical in looks, dress and cadence. I did what most people do when first confronted by the Brown Twins; I did a double take, watched them as they walked the rest of the block, and then grinned from ear to ear.

Turns out that the Brown Twins came to San Francisco in the 70’s from Kalamazoo, where they were born and raised. They were co-validictorians of their high school class and both went on to earn a teaching credential. After three years of “that low-paying job” (as they described it), they moved to the City and became secretaries. Except for six months of their life, they dressed identically every day. They always lifted their forks in unison and always walked in lockstep. Neither of them married, although they did date twin brothers they met at a twin convention back in Michigan. The romances fell apart when Vivian and Marion unilaterally decided to switch dates. The twins would spend the rest of their lives together – the pleasure of each other’s company was more than enough to provide them with satisfying lives.

Over the next 25 years I worked on and off in the Financial District and in all that time I never lost the thrill of seeing the twins out for their stroll. Some people thought it brought good luck to catch the twins walking down the street. Part of the fun of seeing them was watching other people spot the twins, usually for the first time. The result was always the same – big smiles, looks of bemusement and sometimes a request for a photo. The Browns never refused a request. The picture below beautifully captures the typical “what the heck was that?” double-take that the Browns elicited:

They eventually became so well-known that they were included in all things San Francisco: socialite parties, grand openings and civic celebrations. Everything except “Beach Blanket Babylon”. The producers said they never included an act depicting the Brown Twins because no two actresses could ever pull off on stage what the Browns did every day on the street. The Browns hit the jackpot in 1988 when they were featured in a Reebock commercial. After that they became frequent guests on talk shows and were featured in commercials for IBM, Payless Drug, AT&T, Dell, Apple and Joe Boxer shorts. Richard Branson, founder of Virgin Atlantic, was so enamoured by them after they shot the commercial for his airline that he flew them first class to London for a shopping spree at Harrod’s.

But like all things in our fast-paced world, the public lost its infatuation with the Browns. They still strolled the streets of San Francisco, in their leopard coats but they slowed down. Finally, last July, Vivien fell and was taken to the hospital. The doctors discovered that she was suffering from Alzheimer’s disease. Marian, ever faithful to her sister, had been trying to care for her on her own. The sad truth was, like many elderly people, they simply didn’t want to be apart and didn’t have the money for adequate care. The residuals and appearance fees had dried up long ago.

True to form, when the citizens of San Francisco heard of the twins’ plight, they came to the rescue. Money poured in to help pay for Vivian’s care, from rich and poor, famous and not famous, literally from every part of the city. People sent money for Marian’s daily pizza, some offered to drive Marian to visit Vivian each day, others organized fund-raisers.

But in the early hours of January 9th, Vivian succumbed to her illness. She was 85. Which means that for the first time in 85 years, Marian is all alone. It’s hard to imagine how hard that must be for her, literally losing a part of herself. I hope that she can take some solace in knowing that for many years she and Vivian brought joy to anyone who saw them. For me, the Brown Twins will always be a part of what made working in San Francisco a cherished memory.

Posted in Holiday observations • travel

Catalina: Hamilton Cove, Glenmore Plaza Hotel and the ‘Other Side’

January 14, 2013By Sparrow/WatsonComments:2 Comments

by Bob Sparrow

Twenty-thirteen portends to be an unusual year for me, perhaps even paranormal, what with all the ‘other side’ things that helped usher in a year with a 13 in it. No, I’m not superstitious, but like Michael Scott, I am a little ‘stitious’. While most New Year’s days I’ve watched the sun set into the Pacific Ocean somewhere along the ‘left coast’, this year I welcomed in the new year on the ‘other side’ watching the sun coming up over the Pacific from Hamilton Cove on Catalina Island – truly a unique experience. OK, truth is there haven’t been too many years when I’ve even seen the sun on New Year’s Day, but that’s another story.

If you’ve never been there, Hamilton Cove looks like it belongs on the ‘other side’ of the Atlantic, perhaps on a Greek island coastline or hanging somewhere off the Amalfi Coast in Italy. I suppose if you have been there, it still looks that way, but as if getting away from it all in Catalina wasn’t enough, several of us wanted to get away from the people who wanted to get away from it all – to the ‘other side’ of Catalina. I discovered that Catalina is a little like the moon, in that most people only see one side, although I can tell you now from experience, that the ‘other side’ of Catalina is not dark . . . unless you go at night, then it’s really dark. Like the moon, it’s not easy to get to the ‘other side’ of Catalina, you have to have a pass that gets you through the gate on the road to the ‘other side’ that goes through the infamous ‘Airport in the Sky’, Catalina’s private airport where planes don’t really take off from the runway, the runway simply drops out from under them after several thousand feet and, presto, they’re airborne.

We were fortunate to be in the company of one Michael Amoroso, whose family has lived on the island for over twenty years and owns and operate the Glenmore Plaza Hotel, ‘the second oldest continuously operating hotel in California’, so says Michael’s brother, Jimmy, who manages the hotel. I thought it odd that a hotel in this relatively remote location would have such a distinction so I asked Jimmy Jr., Jimmy’s son who works at the hotel, “Whose #1?” He replied like someone who’d studied hotel history his entire life, “The Hotel del Coronado.” I decided to see what Google had to say on the matter:

‘Oldest hotel in California’ – the Benicia in northern California – est. 1852
‘One of the oldest hotels in California’ – Murphy’s in the gold country – est. 1856
‘One of the oldest continuously operating hotels in Calif’ – National Hotel (also in the gold country) – est. 1859
‘Largest resort hotel in the world’ – Hotel del Coronado – est. 1888
‘Second oldest hotel in California’ – so stated on Google about the Glenmore Plaza Hotel, but it doesn’t say who’s first or when the Glenmore was established. Wikipedia probably got their information from Jimmy Jr. too.

I also found on Google a picture with a caption that said, ‘Second oldest hotel in California’ – it was not a picture of the Glenmore.

Meanwhile, back on the road to ‘the other side’, just before reaching the airport we see a buffalo standing alongside the road. I’ll tell you the history of how buffalo got on the island . . . another time. After a brief stop at the airport, we start down on the western slope of the island; the paved road turns to dirt. We drive past El Rancho Escondido, a ranch, Michael tells us, started by the Wrigley family back in the ‘30s for breeding Arabian horses – another story too long to tell here. We also pass a vineyard – yes, another story. The road leads us to a west coast inlet called ‘Little Harbor’, where there is no man-made harbor, but a small campgrounds and no campers, no nothing except a beautiful uncluttered coastline, which is pretty much what all of the ‘other side’ of Catalina is. We walked along the beach on this beautiful January day and enjoyed the fresh air, sunshine and solitude.

Our return to civilization is uneventful except for the stories Michael tells us of the ghosts that inhabit the island. Back in Avalon we thank Michael for exposing us to the many stories and sides of Catalina, particularly ‘the other side’.

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Posted in opinion

THE CURSE OF KALE

January 7, 2013By Sparrow/WatsonComments:

By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

Have you noticed that we are surrounded by diet tips this time of year? No matter where I’ve turned lately, someone is telling me how I can expend calories, lower my BMI or lose weight. Frankly, I don’t think my weight is any of their damn business.

Usually I enjoy reading USA Today – the articles exactly match the (short) length of my attention span. And there are pictures – lots of pictures. But this past week even they bombarded me with diet and exercise tips. The Main news section went into an agonizing description of every diet and which medical group endorses it. Blah, blah, blah. Then the Money section dissected the cost of the various diet plans. Sports calculated the calories used during simple everyday tasks like mowing the lawn, chopping wood, and rock climbing. Clearly they’ve not taken into consideration people such as myself. I need to know the net calorie count of sitting on the couch eating popcorn while watching “Downton Abbey”. Finally, the Life section had real life stories of people who had lost 100 pounds. I don’t care what they say, you just know these people are miserable. And most of them gain it all back in a Bacchanalia of Domino’s pizza and grape slurpees.

I blame a lot of this diet craze on the recent assent of kale. Who had even heard of kale five years ago? Now it’s in everything. Restaurants feature kale salad, which is basically kale and then a lot of things mixed with it to mask the taste of kale. There are recipes in magazines for kale chips, kale smoothies, and I even saw one for kale ice cream. The kale craze really hit the Rubicon when one famous, do-gooder, skinny-as-a-rail chef suggested putting kale in a chocolate cake recipe. That is one step too far. Not on my watch will something like kale ruin a perfectly delicious confection of sugar and butter.

So for me, I’m going to cut out the middle man this year and not even start a diet. And I’m certainly not going to add freaking kale to my meals. I’m sticking with the triple chocolate cake from Costco (minus any kale, thank you very much) and I’m guessing that I will end up weighing the same at the end of 2013 as I do today. And I won’t have had the humiliation of kale stuck to my teeth.

Note: This week we changed domain name to “From A Bird’s Eye View” so it now matches the name of the blog. The bad news is that if you want to continue to get our weekly posts in your email you will need to sign up again. It’s not hard…just put your email address in the subscribe box on the upper right side of this post and we’ll appear in your inbox each Monday. Thanks!

Posted in Holiday observations • Uncategorized

LOOKING BACK FOR NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTIONS

December 31, 2012By Sparrow/WatsonComments:5 Comments

by Bob Sparrow

Thank you to my sister, Suzanne for introducing me to the idea of the ‘upside down bucket list’, for it was that concept that has inspired me to look at New Year’s resolutions differently. Like many, I typically resolve to be a better spouse, parent, friend . . . person and include the requisite increase in exercise and consumption of much healthier food resulting in a painfully slow, if ever, decrease in weight. Like many, I also have a bucket list of places I want to visit and things I want to do and resolutions always include checking off a few of those items during the ensuing year. While resolutions and bucket lists look great in late December, reality seems to find its way into the new year and render many, if not most, of our resolutions unattainable.

So this year, rather than ‘dream’ about the places I’d like to go in 2013, I thought I’d do the ‘upside down thing’ and look back at 2012 and review what I’d done and where I’d actually been. Then, rather than be disappointed at not doing or getting to the places I resolved to get to, I’d be able to just ‘grade’ myself based on what I’d done and where I’d gone and hopefully put a few checks on that big bucket list.

Twenty-twelve will not be marked in my memory by the many places I visited or the life I led, but rather by the life I lost – the passing in February of my best friend, Don Klapperich. For more than 50 years he was a best friend, a mentor, a singing partner, a moral compass, a confidant, the little voice in my head and so much more. He was a most talented, intelligent, entertaining and complex man. He knew me better than anyone and I knew him as much as anyone could. I miss him dearly. I regret not spending more time with him, not talking to him more on the phone, not emailing as often as I could have, not going to visit more often. I suppose it’s natural to now have a better understanding of the tenuousness of life; to better appreciate each day we’re given and to not take those around us for granted. I don’t know if it’s a resolution, but I will try harder to remember these things – they have become more important to me.

Those who have followed our blog know that I’ve had the privilege of going to some wonderful places this year. In January I was in Hawaii, on the Big Island to watch the PGA Senior’s golf tournament at Hualalai and then on to Maui to play golf and just watch some sunsets at Wailea. I had a much too up-close and personal look at ‘senior living’ at my mom’s facility in Sonoma and while I was in the area I hiked through historical Jack London State Park in the rolling hills of Glen Ellen. I traveled across country on business to Sunriver, Oregon, Minneapolis, Minnesota, Holyoke, Massachusetts and I HAD to return to the island of Kauai to attend a conference. I lived on a boat in the harbor in Cabo San Lucas for three days while not catching a single fish, but I did get to hang upside down at the Giggling Marlin. I spent a week in our timeshare in Palm Desert for the 18^th year in a row and hope I can play another 18. I revisited the differences between northern and southern California as I returned to the palm and pine trees on Highway 99 out of Fresno, and I spent several days not quite 26 miles across the sea on Catalina Island. I thought I saw John Lennon at the Laguna Sawdust Festival, twice! I stood at the lowest point on the North American continent in surprisingly stunning Death Valley, and I stood on top of Half Dome in not-so-surprisingly stunning Yosemite National Park. And I had my annual martini with my Dad in his final resting place at Lake Tahoe.

That’s an upside down list that I may have a hard time topping in 2013. I feel so very privileged to be afforded the opportunities to experience all that I have in 2012 and I know I was privileged to have such a great best friend for over 50 years. It was a memorable year in so many ways. I recommend looking back at your year and the only resolution I would make is that in a year from now you’re going to look back at 2013 – make it memorable.

I know I speak for my dear friend and wonderfully talented sister, which she doesn’t often let me do because she can speak so well for herself, in thanking all of you who read our blog and especially those who send us back comments to let us know our words don’t all end up in cyber space. May you all have an extraordinary 2013.

And now a word from our sponsor

Most of you know I’m now working for Zipz Gear, a unique shoe company, but may not know that I am now writing a ‘shoe blog’ called ‘From the Lipz of Zipz’. You can find the blog by going to our website at www.zipzgear.com. Feel free to check out the shoes while you’re there.

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MERRY CHRISTMAS!

December 24, 2012By Sparrow/WatsonComments:8 Comments

We here at “A Bird’s Eye View” are taking a break for Christmas. Actually, we consumed too much egg nog and can’t string two sentences together. But fear not, we’ll be back next week with some inspiring drivel for the new year.

Merry Christmas to everyone and thank you so much for reading our blog each week. We appreciate your “views” and comments.

Bob and Suzanne