Coyote Returns

Coyote Returns

You can hear them at night; a pack of 50 or 100, or maybe just 20, down in the canyon yipping and yowling for a good long while after a siren goes off. I've never seen a pack, but I have seen a solitary coyote hanging out by the turn in the road, my headlights illuminating its opaque, glass-colored eyes, when I come home from work. I've wondered if this isn't the same lone coyote that visits next door in the middle of the day, looking for a handout from my neighbor Thea.

Thea started feeding a coyote two years ago, when it was a toddler. I told her, pleaded with her, that it was wrong to feed a wild animal and, much to my surprise, she agreed; she promised to stop but then she didn't. I felt helpless to do anything about it: my neighbor is old and lonely. The coyote was her friend.

I hadn't seen the coyote for three or four months; I'd missed its absence, for no matter what you say, having a wild animal nearby can send shivers down your spine. It's thrilling, yet....it's still wrong. I was sitting down to write, when, out of the corner of my eye I saw a flash, it was the coyote back in Thea's yard!

I heard Thea calling to the coyote, "Come, come. Come, come," in her German accent, as she placed food on the ground. I grabbed my video camera and ran outside. You can see in the video, the coyote looking to the left (Thea), then looking straight ahead (me) and the dilemma he finds himself in. He doesn't know what to do: here's a witness to his forsaking his wild coyote ways, and I imagine, he's a little bit embarrassed. Later, he plops down in the grass in Thea's lower yard, smelling the flowers (a true Ferdinand, the coyote), passing a peaceable afternoon. 

Coyote biding his time until I leave. 

After 45 minutes of taking in the breezes and catching bugs, he goes back to dine at Thea's table.

To view on youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gdes2M53RqA

21

Happy Birthday, daughter. I'm thinking about you today, and how all the clichés about children growing up so quickly are not really clichés at all. Time really is a fluid mass without markers. We were in Joshua Tree, and Dad and Mekko were climbing high up on the rocks. You and I stayed down below, with you in a baby carrier facing front, my coat wrapped around both of us. You were one. We had the whole place to ourselves. I couldn't believe how big your brown eyes were, so focused and attentive, full of language that you couldn't yet speak. We danced around on the rocks, you bouncing in your carrier, and for me, this is when we bonded. I know, everyone says you have to bond right after birth or else, but it happened here: I hadn't had the time before, because I was so crazed with mothering. But here, in the quivering, shifting light of Joshua Tree, we recognized each other. Mother daughter. I remember it like it was yesterday. 

And now it's today. You're 21. With all your friends, your brother, your lover, your rats, your house, your new courses, your final semester of junior year, your dreams your fears your plans your travels your plans to travel. I know it wasn't easy to get to this place. But you did it. You're 21 with merit... you deserve 21, and 21 deserves you. You do 21 proud. In fact, twenty-one was waiting for someone like you.

Imagined Scenario #1

The sign you see from the 10 Freeway 

(I've forgotten how different writing an article is from writing a blog post—much harder! The freedom to do or say anything you want is limited; whereas in a blog post, you can do whatever you want. To get started on something I'm writing I've tried to fall somewhere in between, not sure it's working, but at least it's gotten me started.) 


Imagined scenario #1: What if the derelict warehouse on Grand Ave between 36th and 37th Street, in South Los Angeles, hadn't been transformed into the Mercado La Paloma—with it's many eateries and social services stationed under one big roof— and say, a Wal-Mart had been put in its place? 

Working backwards, I'll take a wild guess at what that might look like: there'd be no foot traffic on the broad tree-lined street, no lunch time rush hour, no paradores meeting other health care workers over tacos al pastor, no USC students spread out around the communal tables, slurping spicy Tlalpeño soup from Vista Hermosa. 

Beth Weinstein, who manages the Mercado, with Raul Morales, 

owner and chef of Vista Hermosa

  

His traditional Tlalpeño soup from Michoacan

There'd be no cultural or holiday events centered around a radish!

Noche de Rabanos/Radishes Night

There'd be absent the 13 entrepreneurial families who set up successful businesses with the help and resources of the Esperanza Housing Corp, who launched the project in 1999. 

Nancy Halpern Ibriham, executive director of Esperanza Housing Corp.

looking over the menu

In fact, what the neighborhood might look like if a Wal-Mart were here is what Figueroa, a few blocks away, looks like today: a nondescript stretch of colorless concrete, with fast food franchises and faceless warehouses, where people come and go as fast as they can. If a Wal-Mart were here...well, I shudder to even imagine...

It took five years for Esperanza to raise the funds in a capital campaign to purchase the 34,000 sq. ft building in the mid-2000s, pushing forward despite the nay-sayers. Under Nancy Halpern Ibriham's direction they rejected national franchises, and instead brought in vendors who had ties to the community.  

Sometimes, that's all they had. In 2009, when Ricardo Zarate approached Beth Weinstein, director of marketing, about opening a Peruvian food stand, he had never done anything like that before. But hallelujah, Weinstein said yes! Soon after Zarate's Mo-Chica opened, Jonathan Gold wrote a glowing review in the LA Weekly. Zarate has gone on to garner awards—Best new chef for 2011 by Food and Wine— and recently opened Picca, a restaurant outside the 'hood. But what if Weinstein had said no? She took a chance on a nobody because, sometimes, given who's standing in front of you, that's the right thing to do.

I went down to the Mercado last week, and as promised, enjoyed an exceptional meal. I recommend a trip to the Mercado, if for no other reason, to see the community of lunch time eaters. People come from all over LA, because unlike Wal-Mart or fast food joints, here, you can sit back with friends and stay for awhile. 

Yum—Chili Rellenos

Rose Parade

Our first Rose Parade ever, standing at Colorado, a little east of Lake. I stationed myself on top of an office planter, while Tom snapped pix from below. That first blast of horns from the US Marine Corps filling Colorado and sweeping down the street blew us away.

I'm posting this a little after the fact, thinking I wouldn't (who wants to see the same thing you can see on TV?) but looking at these pics now I'm struck by how colorful the parade was, the electric energy behind each band and float, and just how many people—especially pooper scoopers—it took to pull off a parade that everybody loved.

 

Roy Rogers and Trigger,

Above, Dusty and Dustin, Rogers' son and grandson perform 

"Happy Trails" on what would be RR's 100th birthday

(Trigger was stuffed and positioned at the front of the float)

Click on photos to view as slide show

Happy New Year

 Happy New Year dear readers! 

See you in 2012.

Feeding the People

Good-bye Gaffers & Sattler Oven

Good-bye 50-year-old sleek modern design, 

sans bells and whistles

Good-bye burnt cookies, perfect briskets, dry chickens, 

and one dripping experimental octopus concoction. 

Good-bye my lovely old oven, 

I will miss you more than you can imagine.

Reluctantly, I must say good-bye to my old wall oven this holiday season. Two appliance guys (I won't mention any names, but DO NOT use York Appliances, they are idiots!) broke it and it can't be fixed because it's so old. Looking for a new oven brings unwanted revelations: for one, gas ovens aren't made in this size anymore, and two, the new electrical ovens have push button components, not even real clocks or knobs. 


But who am I to complain? We are still eating, we are still cooking on our stovetop (which is also 50 years old), we still have food in the pantry, unlike a lot of people— unlike the 1.7 million that go hungry in Los Angeles County every year.

Looking out onto E. 41st Street from inside the Food Bank

Last week, I visited the LA Regional Food Bank to research a story, and the statistics are staggering:
•1 out of every 6 people in LA county experiences food insecurity (i.e., a missed meal at least once a week).
•The Food Bank distributes 62 million pounds of food yearly, reaching a million people. That's 700,000 meals on the table weekly. Although food distribution has increased 70% in the last 3 years, food acquisition bottomed out this year, causing some food pantries to run out of food or close their doors. 
•The Food Bank provides after-school and summer lunches to 2,200 children, bi-weekly fresh fruit and veggies to 3,100 and weekend backpacks full of food to 1,275.
•For every $1 donated, the Food Bank provides 4 meals.
•100 on staff and 24,000 volunteers yearly. These guys are amazing!

A warehouse full of food.

Volunteers pull food from warehouse shelves... 

...and sort donations into boxes for pick-up by various agencies.

I was lucky to have Carole Tremblay, LA Food Bank's chief development officer, show me around and talk about the Food Bank's recent efforts: new incentives for fresh fruits and veggies with less dependency on commodities, color coding to help people make healthier choices, raising funds for Backpack and summer lunch programs and staying steady in this economy. We sat down later and discussed politics versus putting food on the table (i.e. Wal-Mart funded the summer lunch program). Given the Food Bank's volume, food on the table wins out every time.

Carole Tremblay viewing less than perfect apples donated to the Food Bank

As I was ending my visit, I noticed a barren lot directly across the street, home to the former South Central Farm (also known as South Central Community Garden), at one time the biggest urban garden in the U.S. In 1994, the LA Regional Food Bank was granted a revocable permit to develop the land as a community garden. Through the hard labor (and love) of the community, the garden grew, but in 2006, owner Ralph Horowitz evicted farmers in a dramatic reversal, involving hundreds of community members, the Mayor, the City Council, lawyers, injunctions, protests and bitter fallout on both sides. Today, those 14 acres of land where a Garden of Eden once bloomed lie fallow. The irony alone could kill you.

As I drove away I thought about what Carole had said at the beginning of my visit: "People think that Christmas is our busiest time of year, but that's not the case. We don't really slow down—there's the same need every day of the year." 


Please support the LA Regional Food Bank.

Animals in the 'hood

My next door neighbor continues to feed the skunks and possums, there's chickens in these them hills, and strange reindeer have been spotted, but I'm thinking differently about wildlife these days. Instead of this highfalutin attitude of "undisturbed in nature," I say, "Welcome, all ye animals to the 'hood."

The regulars at Thea's

Old possum with skunk friend

Mt. Washington Chicken

This fine specimen was just sitting there, not moving a muscle...

I mean who am I to talk? I have rats for pets. 


The Rat's Nest would like to introduce its readers to its two newest members—Blu and Lily.

 Blu is blue

Lily is shy

I haven't had pets for awhile, or been responsible for anything livelier than a house plant. I hope I'm up for the task. These rats are wild little things; I've got to keep an eye on them or they'll disappear down a hole or out the door. They're hard to capture...by hand or in a photograph:

But it's nice to have rats for the Rat's Nest again. They can always be counted on for some good laughs and bringing new life to this old blog. More to come. 

(P.S. In case you're wondering, Lily and Blu are kept in a cage, but they get out to play a few times a day...)