Tag Archives: Julie Lary

Finger Pointing at Pensions

22 Sunday Mar 2015

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A few weeks ago, a friend sent me links to articles about how pensions are impacting the solvency of Detroit and Chicago. While the obligation to honor pensions – like paying the mortgage on a devalued house – could be perceived as a burden on city, state, and federal governments, each pension is associated with a person. Labeling pensions as the culprits solely responsible for jeopardizing the financial health of municipalities is akin to discarding the contributions of the people who earned them.

Many people who choose to be government workers – teachers, firefighters, police, clerks, judges, maintenance workers, administrators, and much-appreciated snow plow drivers (especially in Boston) – do so because they recognize the trade-off between earning less in exchange for contributing to and receiving a pension. Ten or so years ago, working for the government provided stability and good benefits.

My husband’s grandfather, mother, father, step-father all worked for the City of Los Angeles or the Los Angeles Police Department. They worked hard, receiving pensions when they retired. Similarly, my mother worked for the City of Burbank.

Pensions aren’t entitlements. They offer the promise of being able to retire without the worry of ending up as a greeter at Wal-Mart or asking people if they want fries with their hamburgers. They’re the rewards for working in fields that can be dangerous, physically exhausting or highly stressful.

They’re also not limited to government workers. My grandfather worked for Lockheed, and retired with a pension, enabling him and his wife to travel and comfortably live in their cozy Burbank, California bungalow until they passed away in their 90’s.

Stories abound of companies mismanaging their pension funds, and subsequently not being able to meet their obligation of paying out retirement benefits. Other companies saw the value of their pensions drop because of investment decisions. For instance, Portland General Electric, Oregon’s largest utility, was acquired by Texas-based Enron. When Enron collapsed employees not only lost millions in savings, but the dream of retirement.

An article appeared in the March 2015 AARP Bulletin about the decline in pensions, and how payments are being cut or sold to third-parties as annuities. Stores are emerging of retirees who are being asking to repay overpayments, resulting from accounting errors on the part of pension administrators.

The article showcased the plight of an Illinois Sheet Metal Worker whose pension fund had erroneously overpaid him and 588 others, starting in 1974. He was told he had three weeks to repay $66,000 or face steep cuts to future payments. Not only was his pension reduced from $1,300 per month to $800, but he was expected to repay $97,000 along with 7.25 percent interest, the amount overpaid to him over the course of nearly twenty years.

Another man, a New York City transit worker, had all but $5 per month of his pension applied towards recouping the monies paid toward him for the past 22 years. Evidentially, he wasn’t supposed to receive his pension because he was receiving worker’ compensation payment, after being shot and stabbed while on the job.

According to the article, in the early 1990’s, around 35 percent of American workers in the private sector were contributing to traditional pension plans. Today, just 16 percent can count of having a pension when they retire.

The passage of legislation in December, 2014 enables multiemployer plans to cut benefits to people under age 80. These plans primarily cover union workers or those in single or related industries. It’s estimated 1.5 million people are currently covered by these plans, which for many, and their surviving spouses is what depend on for basic housing, food, medication, and other necessities.

Closer Look at Detroit

Pinning Detroit’s and Chicago’s fiscal challenges on having to honor pension payouts is akin to blaming a heart attack wholly on a person’s weight, without considering their diet, lifestyle, gender, and heredity. Detroit population

In the 1950’s, Detroit’s population was nearly 1.9 million people. Six decades, it declined to just over 700,000, a startling 62% decrease. A decrease in population translates to the deterioration of the economic base, and subsequent decrease in tax revenues from property, income, and sales taxes

There is a bounty of images and articles, showing and describing blocks of abandoned houses and businesses in Detroit, resulting from the dramatic decrease in population. As a result, property values have plummeted in Detroit, which now has the third lowest taxable value per capita of all Michigan Cities over 50,000 people. Only Flint and Saginaw are lower.

Not only are there fewer people paying property taxes, because of the massive exodus from Detroit, but the taxable value of properties has fallen. Individuals and businesses are often at odds with the tax assessors, disputing how much they own on particles of land and structures, which have lost most of their value and can’t be sold at any price.

A decade ago, there was an estimated 81,754 vacant houses in Detroit. By 2008, that number had climbed to around 102,000 or nearly 28% of all residences. The average price of a house sold in 2003 was $97,847. In six years, the value dropped 87% to just $12,439.

Taxable value A couple of years ago, I wrote about the decline in the value of houses in Cleveland, noting the large number that had gone into foreclosure, and how a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes, Valentino dress, and Gucci bag cost more than a 3-bedroom house in East Cleveland!

Nevertheless, in cities like Detroit and Cleveland, reduced tax revenues are expected to cover the same infrastructures, services, administrations, and pension when populations soared in the 1950’s. A drop in economies doesn’t translated to a reduction in the need to maintain streets, bridges, buildings, transit systems, police, fire, courts, public lighting, and other community services such as libraries and recreational centers.

Preaching the conservative anthem that reducing corporate taxes, eliminating regulations, and reducing government spending doesn’t appear to be the answer to Detroit’s and other large cities’ issues. It certainly hasn’t translated into job creation and economic growth.

From 2003 to 2012, the City of Detroit cut employment by 9,400 people, a 45% decrease. The Detroit Public Schools followed suit, reducing employment by 58% over the course of 9 years. As a result, nearly 24,500 people lost their Largest employers in Detroitjobs, benefits, and most likely, the ability to one day retire with a pension.

How did the public sector respond? The Detroit Medical Center, Henry Ford Health System, and St. Johns Providence Health System are three of the largest employers in the area with a combined employment of 24,940 in 2009. In the subsequent 9 years, they’ve reduced employment by 1,337, which is an acceptable 5% reduction, conceivably the result of increased efficiencies of healthcare deliveries and fewer people seeking care.

The next largest private sector employer in Detroit was Chrysler with 9,707 employees in 2003. They reduced employment by 57% to just 4,00Average Household Income6 employees in 2012.

The nearly 30,500 people who lost their jobs, between 2003 and 2012, having formerly worked for the City of Detroit, Detroit Public Schools, or Chrysler are a subset of the massive job loss and economic decline in Detroit.

Those who didn’t flee the city in search of other opportunities, found themselves with reduced earning power. Only Flint has a lower average household income than Detroit, where the average household income is just $26,253. With many of Detroit’s resident having low incomes, the demand for services is high from transportation to health care, food programs, and housing.

Five Years of Services Equals a Pension

When the topic of pensions arises, much of the focus is on people who need it the most, hard-working city and utility workers, teachers, firefighters, police, clerks, and those in trades and unions. For many of these people, their salaries didn’t afford them the luxury of socking away a sizable nest egg. Or maybe they didn’t envision their pensions could be reduced or eliminated.

There’s another side to pensions. Consider the pensions made available to members of congress. A congressman who is 62 years of age, can collect a full pension after serving just five years. Five years. If they were elected when they were 30, they can collect their pension when they turn 50.

The base pay for member of Congress is $174,000. Nearly half are millionaires, and the remaining aren’t doing too poorly. Fifty-five members have an average calculated wealth of $10 million. Obviously, few if any of these people need a pension. Yet, little is said about the silver spoon they’re bestowed in salaries, benefits, and pensions when they get elected.

Case in point, Republican Congressman “Downton Abbey,” Aaron Schock, who served just 8 years will be eligible, when he turns 62, to collect hundreds of thousands of dollars in taxpayer-funded retirement benefits.

Nevertheless, Schock and other elected officials are the ones pointing fingers at the city janitor who barely earned more than $30,000 per year, and now with arthritis from 30 years of physical labor, is hoping to collect a humble pension that will enable him to live in a two-bedroom apartment, and purchase groceries and medications when needed.

Other pension programs, which aren’t widely critiqued are those offered to members of the military. No doubt, serving in the armed forces is stressful, demanding, and dangerous, especially if you’re serving in combat. However, in the past 15 years, military retirement costs have skyrocketed more than six-fold to an estimated $18.3 billion, which will be paid to military retirees in 2015. Costs are high because military pensions are at least twice as generous as the best private sector retirement plans, and officers and enlisted men can retire at half of basic pay after only 20 years’ service.

The typical nondisabled military retiree receives an annuity of $13, 226 which is fully indexed for inflation. Since the average retiree begins collecting these payments at age 43, he has plenty of opportunity to supplement them with second career private earnings and, eventually, Social Security benefits and even a second pension.

Returning to my original premise. Every pension is associated with a person. Generalizing that pensions cost too much and jeopardize the financial health of a city, state, business or trade sounds good until you consider the impact to recipients. What type of society are we if we deny or severely cut someone’s pension who’s been toiling for 20, 30, 40 or more years? Someone who light at the end of the tunnel is the security of knowing they’ll have enough money to slow down, read the books that have been piling up on their shelves, spend more time with family, travel, sleep-in, take long walks, knowing they have nowhere they need to be, and enjoy what’s left of their lives without the worry of not having enough money for basic necessities.

Vice President under President Lyndon B. Johnson and long-time politician Hubert H. Humphrey once said, “It was once said that the moral test of government is how that government treats those who are in the dawn of life, the children; those who are in the twilight of life, the elderly; and those who are in the shadows of life, the sick, the needy and the handicapped.”

Elizabeth Warren’s Plan

12 Thursday Feb 2015

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Earlier this week, I posted Elizabeth Warren’s Eight-Point Plan. An associate from Texas wrote the following:

  1. Minimum wage is 0 – what is she going to do to encourage job growth so fewer people need to be dependent on government and government doesn’t create an unnecessary burden on businesses
  2. In unions, individual workers don’t have bargaining rights. Regardless of your ability, you are held to the same pay and seniority rules – you cannot excel if you are able to achieve deliver more
  3. The first part is obvious (and laws exist for this) but groups in the second part which is the problem – government pensions and guaranteed retirements are crippling municipalities (Detroit anyone?); moving to 401k savings needs to occur
  4. Is there any data on this to support the assertion…can someone show me people doing “equal work”
  5. Unfunded liability and will run out without changes – growing older population, growing disability claims
  6. Please stop repaving roads…my only issue with this is how inefficient money is spent
  7. What is the definition of “fair share” – can someone provide a % on this? Is 50% for some upper brackets (when factoring state for some brackets) not enough
  8. What does that mean – apply tariffs? embargo countries? Agree that we should encourage countries to adopt pollution/working condition standards – there has been some good reporting on private companies that has yielded some good results.

This is my response:

Let’s say you’re a single mother with a 3 year old, living in Austin. The only jobs you’re able to secure are two part-time jobs at Staples (24 hours/week), and McDonalds (24 hours/week), for a total of 48 hours per week. Neither one provides healthcare, but they both pay $8/hour. You therefore earn $1,536/week, which is $208 above the poverty line for the District of Columbia, and $124 less than the poverty line for Alaska. Here’s your monthly budget:

  • $600 rent (1 bedroom apartment, your child sleeps in your bed)
  • $50 utilities (electric mostly for air conditioning, sewer/water)
  • $84 gas (your car gets 24 miles per gallon, and you drive around 10 miles per day, 6 days per week between jobs and child care… 60 miles/24 mpg = 2.5 x $2.10/gallon x 4 weeks)
  • $100 auto insurance
  • $200 groceries ($50/week)
  • $400 child care (you have a relative watch your child in the afternoon and evenings, but you still need 20 hours of childcare per week at $5/hour)

Your expenses are $1,424, which leaves $112 per month for healthcare, clothing, car repairs, continuing education (community college), and unforeseen expenses like purchasing school supplies. If your rent increases or your car breaks down, you may not have enough money for food, and therefore sign up for food stamps… and according to Republicans, become a burden to society.

And recall in this scenario, the woman works 48 hours per week. Consider earning 20% less because you work a normal 40-hour week.

Poverty isn’t a choice, it’s a circumstance brought on by the unavailability of jobs that pay a living wage.

Here’s some more food for thought:

Unions help raise wages, protect people’s jobs (so they don’t end up unemployed), and ensure companies provides benefits.

Detroit didn’t fall apart because of entitlements. They had issues that their elected officials overlooked, coupled with a dramatic drop in tax collection (tax-payers and businesses) because of the decline of the auto industry.

401K’s are great, provided you earn enough money to save some of it, and your company matches. The introduction of 401K’s left business off the hook, and enabled companies like Enron, Washington Mutual, PGE, and others to simply say “Oh well” when the money their employees placed in their pension plans was lost.

As far as equal pay for equal work, dress up as a woman, go look for work, and see whether you’re offered the same amount of money as you did as a man. On the average, women still earn 77 cents for every dollar a man makes.

Government doesn’t more than pave roads. They protect the environment and public safety, provide for schools, police, and fire, issues permits so buildings can be built, and much more.

And the definition of fair share…. In the 1950’s, the largest employer in America was General Motors. In today’s dollars, the average auto worker earned $50/hour. Today, the largest employer is America is Walmart where most people earn scarcely more than minimum wage. As a result, it’s estimated Walmart workers rely on $6.2 billion in public assistance, including food stamps, subsidized housing, and Medicaid.

Homeless in Seattle

27 Tuesday Jan 2015

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Driving to work this morning, I heard on the radio that a man had fallen to his death from a Seattle freeway ramp. The police thought he’d lived at a homeless camp. The incident reminded me of an article I’d read last week about a 21 percent increase in the number of homeless people sleeping on the streets or in their vehicles in King County.

The annual One Night Count found 3,772 people camping along freeway overpasses, in campers and cars, in doorways, and under bridges. In addition, a 100 or so people were found, riding night owl buses to keep warm and dry. It’d never occurred to me that riding a bus all night was an alternative to being on the street or in a shelter until I read an article about The Santa Clara Valley Transportation Authority bus 22, which runs 24-hours, going from East San Jose to Palo Alto, California. Every night and into the early morning hours, the bus is full of homeless people, paying $2 for the two-hour, one-way trip.

They ride the bus all night, sleeping between the herky-jerky stops, and then disembarking at the end of the route, getting back on the bus a few minutes later, to go the other direction.

The increase in homelessness, at least in Seattle, is tied to soaring rents, loss of older, more affordable apartment buildings, persistent poverty, unemployment, and inadequate treatment of resources for the addicted and mentally ill.

Several years ago, I helped move residents from a tent city being hosted at a church in Redmond to a synagogue in Bellevue. I remember showing up, and seeing piles of pallets, on which the residents pitched their tents. While handled with great dignity, the tent city was a horrific existence, especially when it rained, when a trip to the porta-potty required putting on shoes, and slogging on muddy paths.

I made a couple of trips in my car, moving residents and their possessions between the church and synagogue. One man, with a British accent and a gentle manner, had a suit, shirt, and tie in a cleaner bag. I asked about the outfit. He said he used to be a programmer for a company in Seattle. He’s gotten laid-off and couldn’t find another job. He wore the suit when he interviewed.

It was a startling admission, and just showed how quickly someone can “fall” when they can’t find employment or as happened several years ago, can’t afford the mortgage on a house or condo. I wonder how many whose houses were foreclosed are still living in apartments or with friends and relatives. On a regular basis, the Seattle Times has articles about people being displaced when their affordable apartment was renovated and turned into more expensive apartments or sold as condos.

Even though people think of homeless people existing primarily in downtown Seattle, it’s in plain site on the Eastside. When I lived in downtown Bellevue, I remember seeing an elderly woman begging by the freeway off-ramp. After getting home, I gathered up all my change and bills, and walked back to the off-ramp. She was dressed in soiled, but tidy clothes, a safety pin held the collar of her shirt together.

She said that she took care of her mother until she recently died. She then found herself on the street. To this day, I wish I’d offered her the extra bedroom in my apartment. She could have taken a shower, and I could have purchased her clean clothes, and investigated social services the following day.

I was reminded of her a few weeks ago when I was getting on the freeway in Kirkland. An elderly woman, wearing men’s loafers (they appeared to be several sizes too large) and shabby, mismatched clothing was holding a sign, indicating she was homeless. The signal turned before I could reach for a dollar or two to give her.

A few hours later, at Pike’s Market, I watched as the women in the restroom step aside to make way for an elderly woman, also wearing men’s shoes, and pushing a cart, filled with her belongings. They seemed embarrassed by her, but I was embarrassed in an upscale town like Seattle there are around 8,000 people without shelter every night.

Death of my Mother

24 Wednesday Dec 2014

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It’s been over two months since my mother passed away on Monday, October 13. While she had wanted to die for the past few years, and talked nearly daily about slitting her wrist or drinking cyanide, it was startling when the “fait accompli” occurred.

Months earlier, she went on hunger strike, barely eating a few hundred calories a day. When her weight reached 73 pounds, Rich rushed her to the doctor, who prescribed several medications, designed to improve her appetite and attitude. They worked with her gaining a few pounds, and not fighting the staff when they took her down to the dining room for lunch. Doris Stark

Her progress was short-lived, however, with her once again refusing to eat, and becoming so weak, she was mostly bedridden. We bought her a foam mattress to make it more comfortable, and the staff propped her up with multiple pillows.

We visited every weekend, and each week, her ability to keep her head on the pillow, and not slump into her chest declined. The last Saturday we saw her, she was awake, but confused, her head tilted off to one side.

The next evening, we received a call that she had a very high temperature, and possibly pneumonia. After several calls, the retirement home got permission to call an ambulance to take her to the emergency room.

We spoke to the physician who confirmed she had pneumonia, and recommended a round of antibiotics. We then got ready for bed. As we were climbed under the covers, we received a call from the admitted physician who bluntly said my mother’s body was dying, and we should get to the hospital immediately. She comment that prescribing antibiotics was like taking vitamins to fight cancer.

After hurriedly getting dressed, grabbing our computers, and stopping at McDonald’s for coffee, we headed up to Mount Vernon, arriving around midnight. My mother was in great distress, struggling to breathe, confused, and extremely cold and uncomfortable with the nurses having to constantly clean her up, and change her linens. It was frightening to see her.

Around 1 a.m., we meet with the admitting physician who reeled off the list of her ailments, including pneumonia, possible heart attack, failing kidneys, septicemia, and high potassium levels. My mother’s body was shutting down, and she could conceivably not make it through the night.

With nothing to do, but wait, and my mother waving us away when we were in her room, and then drifting off to sleep for a few minutes, we drove to our Mount Vernon house to catch a few hours of sleep.

The next morning, I called my brother, who lives in Portland, before heading back to the hospital.

While still struggling to breath, my mother appeared more comfortable, having had several injections of pain killers. We waited until after 10 a.m. to speak with the palliative care team, which had met earlier to discuss my mother’s and other patients’ treatment plans.

A palliative care nurse, and young physician (who was probably in training), escorted Rich and I to a conference room. A decision was made to administer a morphine drip, and then return my mother to the retirement home the following day for hospice care. I secretly hoped she’d pass away before then since getting her ready to go by ambulance back to the retirement home, and then wheeling her in a gurney up to her room– even though it was less than a mile away – would be very disruptive and cause her more discomfort.

With my mother resting, after the morphine drip was administered, Rich decided we should go to Costco for flu shots (he’s all about efficiency).

When we returned, my brother and his girlfriend Trinka were at my mother’s side. They’d brought their Kindle and were playing soft music, which was a welcome distraction, along with the dimmed lights. We caught up on news while Trinka sat on one side of my mother’s bed, knitting, my brother was on the other side, in a daze, and Rich and I were on a sofa across the room, periodically checking our phones.

Around 3 o’clock, Rich abruptly decided we should retrieve my mother’s cat from the retirement home, since my brother and Trinka agreed to take the cat. We’d taken a few steps down the hall when my brother chased us down, saying he thought my mother had stopped breathing.

Rich rushed back to the room, while I got a nurse. Sure enough, she’d stopped breathing. According to her living will, she wasn’t to be resuscitated. It was very surreal to know she was gone. None of us knew when she’d actually passed. It could have been ten minutes or a few seconds.

We said our “good-byes,” and then walked out into the crisp air. A gust of wind caught us off-guard, and was a precursor to a sudden storm, complete with lightening, thunder, and pelting rain.

While my brother and Trinka headed back to Oregon, with my mother’s cat Mei-Mei and a few needlepoint pictures from her room, Rich and I visited a mortuary to make agreements for the body. It was disconcerting responding to questions about your mother, who was reduced to one of many bodies in the hospital’s morgue.

I was asked whether I wanted my mother cremated, wearing a certain outfit? No. The idea of someone taking her out of the body bag, and trying to pull clothes on her stiff body seemed unimaginable awful. Was there going to be a funeral? No. Did she have a pace-maker? No. What did I want done with the ashes? I didn’t know.

The questions continued.

All I could think about was whether the body could be cremated within a few days, according to Jewish custom. The mortuary director couldn’t give an exact day; it depended on when the death certificate could be signed.

After making the necessary arrangements, and handing the mortician a check, we made a quick stop at our Mount Vernon house and then heading back to Kirkland, less than 24-hours since we’d frantically driven up the night before.

A few days later my mother’s body was cremated, and I sighed in relief. We brought her ashes, along with those of her favorite cat Growltiger, to my brother at Thanksgiving. He’s researching whether the ashes can be placed in the pond at the Portland Japanese Garden. Otherwise, they’ll disperse the ashes at the Oregon coast.

The last few months of my mother’s life, she was fixated on “returning home” to Burbank. I imagine she’s somewhere in Burbank of yesteryear with tidy bungalows, and palm tree-lined streets. She’s riding her bike around the back lots of the movie studios. Maybe she’s at high school, talking with Debbie Reynold’s brother, chatting with Nic Tayback (on the TV series Alice), and other people who ended up in Hollywood. Or perhaps, she’s with her first love, a man named Herbert Ross, who she lived with in the 50’s, and then reconnected with him after my father died.

Doris Stark
May 17, 1930 – October 13, 2014

Invocation #38: Fourth of July, 1985

24 Wednesday Dec 2014

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Tomorrow, O Lord, we Americans will celebrate Independence Day.

America, a republic founded on the concept of freedom of choice in religious practice, equity among all its inhabitants, and equal protection and justice for all under Law.

Grant, O Lord that her people never swerve from these principles, and ever stand together in defense of them.

On Saturday, one of my mother’s friends – who she worked with over 60 years ago – forwarded me an email about the “Muslim heritage in America,” citing how no Muslim landed with the Pilgrims; celebrated the first Thanksgiving; signed the United State Constitution, Declaration of Independence, or Bill of Rights; fought in the American Revolution, American Civil War or on the Allied side during World War II; or walked side-by-side with Martin Luther King Jr.

The missive continued asking whether you’ve ever seen a Muslim hospital, orchestra, or marching band; witnessed a Muslim charity; shaken the hand of a Muslim Girl Scout; or seen a Muslim Candy Striper. It then cited the terrorist acts perpetrated by Muslims at the World Trade Center, Fort Hood, and the Boston Marathon.

It concluded by saying every American and Canadian must read and send to others…”and if you don’t share the message, you are part of the problem!”

Wow!

In the past, she’s sent nasty, unsubstantiated, right-wing propaganda, but this email made me cringe. While no one is thrilled with recent acts of terrorism by Muslims, inciting fears and raising doubts about someone’s right to live in America because of their religious beliefs isn’t just wrong, it’s egregious. More importantly, terrorism is committed by people from all religions and nationality, including Americans like Ted Kacynski and Timothy McVeigh.

Crack open a history book, and you’ll quickly discover for the first 200 or so years after Christopher Columbus founded the “New World,” diversity in America primarily consisted of people from the European continent, practicing either Christianity or Catholicism.

It wasn’t until Southern plantation owners looked around and exclaimed, “Damn, who’s gonna’ harvest all this cotton,” was there a massive “import” of black people from Africa and the Caribbean. Ditto for railroad barons who decided Chinese workers would suffice for the backbreaking work of laying tracks.

Other groups have come to America, fleeing oppression, war, famine, intolerance, and economic hardships. With each wave of new arrivals, there have been currents of dissent, resentment, and sometimes, violence.

Given time, the currents ebb, and the new inhabitants settling into their communities, finding work or opening shops, sending their kids to school, building place of worship, and workings towards a better future for themselves and their families. There are thousands of communities across America, which have been founded or revitalized by a wave of new Americans. That’s what makes America great.

It’s what we defend when we recall our independence, and celebrate the Fourth of July.

I wrote back to my mother’s friend, pointing out that any person (Hitler, Pol Pot, Idi Amin, Saddam Hussein) or group of people (Al Qaeda, ISIS, the Mafia, Irish Republican Army, etc.) who take their beliefs to the extreme are bad.

In addition, the reason why she hasn’t seen a lot of contributions by Muslims to American society is that they comprise about .5% of the population. Even so, some have had a huge impact on America. I listed Dr. Mehmet Oz, disc jockey Casey Kasem, co-founder of YouTube Jawed Karim, founder of the Khan Academy Salman Khan, supermodel Iman, boxer Muhammad Ali, basketball player Shaquilla O’Neal, and head of Newsweek, International Fareed Zakaria.

She immediately wrote back and told me to “get off [my] high horse,” and if I called her a bigot Christian, she’ll call me a bigoted Jew.

I smiled, and immediately blocked her email. Being an American comes with responsibilities, including supporting the first amendment, which guarantees freedom of religion.

Corn Pudding

30 Sunday Nov 2014

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This recipe came from Taste of Home, and was a hit when I made it for Thanksgiving.

  • ½ cup of butter, softened
  • ½ cup of sugar
  • 2 eggs
  • 1 cup (8 ounces) sour cream
  • 1 package (8 ½ ounces) corn bread/muffin mix
  • ½ cup milk
  • 1 can (15 ¼ ounces) whole kernel corn, drained
  • 1 can (14 ¾ ounces) cream style corn

Preheat oven to 325◦. Cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat in sour cream. Gradually add muffin mix alternately with milk. Fold in corn.

Pour into a greased 3-quart baking dish. Bake uncovered 45-50 minutes or until set and lightly browned

Friends and Family Holiday Letter

20 Thursday Nov 2014

Posted by in Gardening, Hobbies, Seattle

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Rich, Julie, and Lary Stacey, Bobby Priest Last December, Julie received a $100 gift card for several prominent Seattle restaurants. It took until September, our 12 year wedding anniversary, to use the card. While the food was trendy and elegantly presented, it wasn’t memorable. In a sense, 2014 was similar with high expectations, and some disappointments.

We started the year with Rich diving into being a realtor for Coldwell Banker Bain. He spent months creating an engaging website – http://www.RichLaryRealtor.com – eye-catching mailers, and other promotions. For three months, he sent the mailers, and waited, and waited for a client to make contact. After some investigation, he learned the mailers were never sent because the post office’s automated mail sorting system couldn’t distinguish Rich’s contact information from the recipients’ addresses, both on the back of the card. The post office simply discarded 800 post cards without notice! Government efficiency at its best!

Mount BakerIn addition, the few clients he engaged weren’t able to find suitable houses, struggled to sell their houses or changed their minds. While he held many open houses, nearly everyone who walked through the doors already had realtors. The handful of transactions he oversaw resulted in commission that came nowhere close to covering his costs.

By mid-year, Rich realized he Produce from Lary gardenneeded to do something different. Fortunately, everything lined up perfectly, and after several interviews, in June, he secured a year-long contract role at Microsoft, testing Windows 8 applications. He works independently, testing applications on the breadth of devices from Windows phones to Windows PCs, and tablets. In addition, he works in a small lab with a bank of windows, overlooking a forested area.

Julie started the year as a contractor for Microsoft Information Security and Risk Management, creating amusing internal awareness programs. She’d started working for the group last October. While she received kudos for her work, and was making in-roads with fostering awareness of security scams, her contract wasn’t renewed, leaving her searching for jobs in mid-June.

Like Rich, her resume landed in the right hands at the right time. Two weeks after her Microsoft contract ended, she started working at Fluke in Everett. Her year-long contract was to develop and market the service programs for Fluke’s industrial tools, something she did at Tektronix and Dell. The week before Thanksgiving, however, she was told there’s no funding for 2015 so she’s back to looking for a job.

With our jobs in flux, we opted for a couple of mini, two-day vacations. In March, we went to Orcas Island in the Puget Sound, driving from one end to the other, and hiking. We took Amtrak from Seattle to Vancouver, Canada, in May, spending two wonderful days walking, taking the elevated trains from one end of the city to the other, and enjoying the panoramic view from our hotel room at the historic Empire Landmark.

Lila LaryWhen it warmed up, we took several lengthy bike rides, and paddled around Lake Washington in our kayak. In late October, we had an unexpectedly magical day visiting Mount Baker, which made us realize, we really need to get out more, and tour the spectacular Pacific Northwest.

We also enjoyed gardening at our Mount Vernon house, producing bumper crops of tomatoes, beans, squash, peppers, berries, and apples.

In early spring, Rich’s daughter, Stacey (above), moved back to Bremerton, Washington to work for the Bremerton Naval Shipyard. Her move gave us excuses to visit and several times ride ferries from Seattle, Edmonds, and Port Townsend.

Chris, Coen, and Rich LaryWe also made several trips to Portland, Oregon, to visit Rich’s son Chris (below) his wife Shawnie, and their two-year old, Coen. On November 18, the threesome became four with Caitlyn being born, weighing 7 pounds 13 ounces. Exciting!

While in Portland, we also met up with Julie’s cousin, Bobby (above), along with her best friend, Wendy.

As the year progressed, Doris (Julie’s mother) mobility started to decline. She was moved into a retirement home in Mount Vernon in early June, along with her cat Mei-Mei. After an initial adjustment period, she spent more time out of her room. By September, however, her strength declined along with her attitude and appetite. On the evening of October 12th, she was rushed to the hospital with pneumonia. Her health declined dramatically, and by the next afternoon, surrounded by family, she passed away.

On the pRich and Julie Laryet front, we continue to have five cats, five birds, numerous ravenous squirrels (who entertain the cats), and several visiting raccoons (one mother with four adorable babies). We take way too many pictures of Lila, our all-white cat, wearing various hats or engaged in cute behavior, which we post on social media site.

We hope you had a memorable 2014, and are welcoming 2015 in good health and spirits.

Rich and Julie Lary

Escape to Mount Baker

22 Wednesday Oct 2014

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Nearly every week, when we go to our Mount Vernon house, Rich points out Mount Baker, noting the amount of snow, ability to see the summit through the clouds, craggily slopes, or desire to see if from inside our house if we punched a hole in the dining room wall.

A week ago Monday, on the afternoon of my mother’s death, he commented, “We should go there.”

So on Sunday, to the mountain we went.

A 140,000 year old active glaciated andesitic stratovolcano in the Cascade Volcanic Arc, Mount Baker is a ruggedly mountain, covered primarily with scree and snow, with evergreens and lakes at the base. It’s one of the snowiest places in the world, and in 1999, set the world record for most recorded snowfall in a single season.

Because, I’m fonder of beaches, our trip up to the mountain was met with hesitancy and dread by me. In my opinion, “You’ve seen one mountain, you’ve seen them all!”

Nevertheless, I welcomed the break in our routine, especially after an emotional week. As we approached the mountain, it had a different vibe than other mountain ranges. There were large open spaces between the mountains with huge valleys and summits. You don’t feel as if you’re in a forest, and emerging periodically to see the sunlight. Instead, there’s spaciousness about the area. It feels more European than Pacific Northwest rainforest.

View Mount Baker

Our first stop was by the Galena Chain Lakes, which is set in a meadow with walking paths around the lakes. It would be a delightful place to cross-country ski in the winter. Plus, it afforded panoramic views in all directions of snow-capped mountains and peaks.

Across from the lakes was a retreat center with a turquoise snowcat parked in the back. I snapped a photo of Rich through the cat, and was fascinated by the clouds reflected in the windows of building.

Our next stop was Heather Meadows. We didn’t know what to expect, but saw many cars in the parking lot so surely there was something picturesque to see. Five minutes on the trail, and I was mesmerized. The easy-to-walk trail, through an alpine meadow, ambles around the Bagley Lakes, which are more like ever-changing rivers. In some places, the water is calm, lapping on the shores. In others, it rushes over boulders, under a bridge, and through a small dam, which you can walk over.

As you walk, you pass by small waterfalls as snow continues to melt, and drain down into the lakes. What was green foliage and wild flowers in summer was awash in golds, oranges, and browns. We passed by people with bags of huckleberries, and kids with blue lips and teeth, their hands also stained from the picking and eating the huckleberries along the trails. After identifying which bushes were huckleberries, our fingers were soon equally blue, grabbing at the tasty berries, lingers on the tips of delicate branches, free of leaves, which had already turned and fallen.

It couldn’t have been more idyllic.

Hesitant to leave, but hungry, we returned to the car, and drove up to Artist Point, where we enjoyed our lunch while overlooking the valley below, and the glacier-covered Mount Baker.

With the snows coming, hiking trails and meadows obscured, and cars of skiers arriving soon, we’ll have to wait until the summer to return to Mount Baker.

Invocation #37: Meeting Places

08 Wednesday Oct 2014

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We have come together again, O Lord, to enjoy a few hours of companionship with our fellow-members.

We are none of us sufficient unto ourselves. Nor can we live isolated lives.

We need to mingle, to see other faces, hear other voices, and touch other hands and mind. And, perchance, even to unburden our souls, one to another.

A meeting place such as this social hall offers the means to satisfying these needs, and the exercising of other human instincts: taking, giving, and sharing.

O Lord, may we never run out of places, where people of good will and intent may gather together in the warmth of friendship and come away feeling spiritually uplifted.

While my grandmother claimed to be an introverted wall flower, she looked forward to attending events, visiting friends and family, and participating in the senior citizen group at her synagogue. These invocations were delivered at these meetings, and not doubt, generated many discussions afterwards.

My grandmother wasn’t one to walk away from a dialogue. She thrived on heated discussions and delving into controversy. Her mornings were spent scouring the newspaper, afternoons listening to talk shows – Dick Cavett and Merv Griffen – were favorites, and evenings absorbing the day’s news. Even in her late 80’s, she could debate an issue, usually taking a stand, and not be swayed by the opposing viewpoint.

My propensity for doing research and sharing my viewpoints was honed by our weekly discussions, starting when I lived in California. My grandparents would visit on Saturdays, and I’d spend as much time as possible with my grandmother, taking long walks or hanging out in my room. When I moved to Oregon, when a senior in high school, I would talk to her nearly every Saturday morning, and sometimes Sunday afternoons.

I miss talking to her, but constantly hear her voice when I write. Our meeting place is in my head, and through my fingers.

Inspirational Messages

05 Sunday Oct 2014

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I usually don’t post what others have written, but I found some of these excerpts so touching I thought I’d share them. The images are from Las Vegas, one of my favorite places to have a camera.

Today, I interviewed my grandmother for part of a research paper I’m working on for my psychology class. When I asked her to define success in her own words, she said, “Success is when you look back at your life and the memories make you smile.”

Today, I asked my mentor – a very successful business man in his 70’s- what his top 3 tips are for success. He smiled and said, “Read something no one else is reading, think something no one else is thinking, and do something no one else is doing.” Las Vegas 1

Today, after a 72 hour shift at the fire station, a woman ran up to me at the grocery store and gave me a hug. When I tensed up, she realized I didn’t recognize her. She let go with tears of joy in her eyes and the most sincere smile and said, “On 9-11-2001, you carried me out of the World Trade Center.”

Today, after I watched my dog get run over by a car, I sat on the side of the road holding him and crying. And just before he died, he licked the tears off my face.

Las Vegas 3 Today at 7 AM, I woke up feeling ill, but decided I needed the money, so I went into work. At 3PM I got laid off. On my drive home I got a flat tire. When I went into the trunk for the spare, it was flat too. A man in a BMW pulled over, gave me a ride, we chatted, and then he offered me a job. I start tomorrow.

Today, I kissed my dad on the forehead as he passed away in a small hospital bed. About 5 seconds after he passed, I realized it was the first time I had given him a kiss since I was a little boy.

Today, in the cutest voice, my 8-year-old daughter asked me to start recycling. I chuckled and asked, “Why?” She replied, “So you can help me save the planet.” I chuckled again and asked, “And why do you want to save the planet?” Because that’s where I keep all my stuff,” she said.

Today, when I witnessed a 27-year-old breast cancer patient laughing hysterically at her 2-year-old daughter’s antics, I suddenly realized that I need to stop complaining about my life and start celebrating it again.  Las Vegas 2

Today, a boy in a wheelchair saw me desperately struggling on crutches with my broken leg and offered to carry my backpack and books for me. He helped me all the way across campus to my class and as he was leaving he said, “I hope you feel better soon.”

Today, I was feeling down because the results of a biopsy came back malignant. When I got home, I opened an e-mail that said, “Thinking of you today. If you need me, I’m a phone call away.” It was from a high school friend I hadn’t seen in 10 years. 

Today, I was traveling in Kenya and I met a refugee from Zimbabwe. He said he hadn’t eaten anything in over 3 days and looked extremely skinny and unhealthy. Then my friend offered him the rest of the sandwich he was eating. The first thing the man said was, “We can share it.”

The best sermons are lived, not preached.