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~ The adventures of Richard and Julie Lary

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Learning Tolerance When You’re Young

14 Tuesday Jul 2015

Posted by rajalary in Family, News and politics

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Desiderio Kovesy, Donald Trump, Fred Rothchild, immigration, Julie Lary, Los Angeles garment district, rajalary, Rosa Kovesy de Erdely

Who could have predicted the spectacular racist comment by Donald Trump about Mexico sending criminals and rapist to America would result in enthusiastic cheers from right-wing supporters while much of the country gasped in horror?

Even more astonishing Fox New blatantly validated his remark by trumpeting the murder of Kate Steinle’s in San Francisco by serial felon and illegal alien Juan Francisco Lopez-Sanchez. Fanning the flames, litigator Heather Hansen wrote on Fox News “Looking for justice? Move to Mexico. When it comes to looking to the U.S. courts for protection, you may have a better chance if you’re from south of the border.”

There’s no denying Lopez-Sanchez shouldn’t have been released from custody. However, any repeat miscreant – whether white, black, brown, legal, illegal, male, female, young or old – will likely commit another crime once released.

According to the Bureau of Justice Statistics, 68% of the 405,000 prisoners released in 30 states in 2005 were arrested for a new crime within three years of release from prison. Over three-quarters had been arrested within five years. Prisoners who had previously committed violent, property or drug crimes were more likely than other released inmates to be imprisoned again for similar crimes.

The tragedy of Steinle’s death isn’t minimized by applying the actions of one man to millions of undocumented workers, labeling them as lowlifes, and rallying for their deportation. The hypocrisy of Trump’s hullabaloo is he most likely depends on illegal immigrants to tend his golf courses, build his Taj Mahals, and clean his opulent penthouse and luxury properties. The Trump Tower escalator, he famously descended the day he announced his candidacy, was probably buffed by an illegal alien an hour before.

Perceptions from Early Age

I’ve tried to soothe my ire over the ignorance and intolerance I heard coming from the maw beneath Trump’s comb-over, but it won’t be soothed. My opinion about Hispanics and illegal aliens was formed when I was young, before I became conscious of the differences between people.

My father had a factory on Santee Street in the heart of the Los Angles garment district. He was a subcontractor for the clothing manufacturer, Fred Rothchild of California. He produced high-end dresses and pantsuits. Polyester was the rage at the time, and I recall racks of lime green, powder blue, and pink (along with lots of black, brown, and off-white) dresses being wheeled out of his fourth-floor factory, loaded onto a freight elevator, and pushed through the streets to a wholesaler.

The building his factory occupied is now upscale condos. When I was a child, it was a dusty with lint from the garment factories that occupied nearly every floor. In the winter, it was cold. And in the summer, it was sweltering. There was the constant sound of sewing machines, whoosh of giant pressers (irons), and clicking from machines used to sew-on buttons or vacuum off loose threads. Mixed in with the industrial noises was conversations between women from Latin America, Czechoslovakia, Asia, and the United States.

I remember where they came from because they brought my family gifts, many of which I still have. A fabric doll, embroidered table cloth and napkins from Guatemala. Silver bracelet from Mexico. Cut-crystal ashtray from Czechoslovakia (originally given to my parents). From their kitchens and ethnic stores, they brought tamales, Chicklets, candies wrapped in rice paper, and pastries with sweet mung beans inside. They also sewed me a couple of outfits, including the dress to the right, worn when I was around 20 months old. Julie Lary Dec 1962

Within weeks of my birth, I was brought to my father’s factory. A rag bin became my crib. When I got older, I swung from metal clothing racks, tried on the employees’ work smocks (even though I was told to stay out of the dressing room), wandered among the sewing machines, helped my father sort and bundle dress pieces that had been cut out, but not yet sewn, and delighted in the racks of threads, boxes of buttons, and piles of multi-colored threads and lint that accumulated.

As I learned to talk, my vocabulary included interfacing, double-sticky Pellon, lining, bias tape, dart, gusset, piping, pleat, selvage, overlock, and hem.

Most of my father workers stayed with him for years because he was known for paying a fair wage (including overtime), and being a strict, but reasonable boss. Being mechanically inclined, he repaired the machines that broke and ensured they were always in good working order. He wasn’t opposed to ripping the seams of a garment that had been sewn incorrectly, and then stitching it back together.

I’m sure when my father secured a new line of dresses (after bidding against other subcontractors), he sewed the first dress, which his seamstresses used as reference for sewing others.

Nearly every Saturday, we spent at least part of the day at my father’s factory. My mother helped with sorting, did the bookkeeping and payroll. My brother was paid a quarter to sweep. I was responsible for cleaning the lunchroom, wiping down the tables, and putting the condiments in the center. To this day, I can vividly recall the vinegary smell of the pickled jalapeno peppers and vegetables, some of the Hispanic women used to eat with lunch.

Growing up in this diverse environment, I learned to be accepting and interested in other cultures. It never occurred to me that I should feel differently about a person who came from generations of Americans versus someone who crossed the border a year before.

I’m sure some of my father’s employees were undocumented worker. Whenever he heard immigration inspectors were in the building, he’d notify his employees. Some would quietly leave and return the next day.

Today, hiring illegal immigrants is frowned upon. But being a first generation American, whose parents came from Hungary before World War II, my father wasn’t one to say “My family got in. Now you get out.” He was sympathetic to the burning desire to harness the American Dream. Like his father — who came to America with barely more than the clothes on his back, and also started a garment factory in Los Angeles — he recognized a good-paying job enables a person to provide for themselves and their family, and also give-back to society.

Turning the Tables

While my father’s immediate family was able to relocate to America, others fled to Mexico and Argentina. I was told the ones in Argentina had visited when I was a baby, carrying expensive jewelry, which they could pawn should the economy collapse or they needed to “buy” their way to another country.

I remember the two people who visited from Mexico, Desiderio (David) and his son Esteban (Steve) Kovesy. They brought my brother and me sombreros along with Mexican clothing, a black suit with piping for my brother, and a red, embroidered dress for me. Desidero Kovesy, Mexico City

They owned a silver and jewelry store in Mexico City. Below is a picture of Desiderio Kovesy and possibly his wife or daughter Rosa Kovesy de Erdely.

After my father died when I was nine, my mother didn’t retain ties with the part of my father’s family in Argentina and Mexico. All I have are a few photos, and a business card with Desiderio’s address. I wish I knew more about them, and how they’re related to my father.

Until effluence of hate spew from Donald Trump, I hadn’t given much thought to my “connections” to Latin America. I’m proud my father and grandfather opened businesses*, which hired people based on their skills, and paid decent wages so they could support themselves and their families. And I’m grateful that my father’s relatives found safe haven following World War II. They too found opportunities in their new countries, opening businesses, paying taxes, and providing employments for others.

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Rose’s Index Cards: Meats

06 Monday Jul 2015

Posted by rajalary in Food and drink, Rose's Writings

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cooking, Julie Lary, rajalary, rose ridnor, scribbles

I suspect my grandmother, Rose Ridnor, didn’t have a recipe book to flip through for ideas on what to fix for dinner. She therefore had lists on index cards, such as this one for meats, which provided ideas. Because my grandparents grew up in the tenements in New York, they were always very frugal, eating little meat, and supplementing main courses with bread, potatoes, pasta, kasha, and other grains.

For the most part, my grandparent’s subsisted on lower quality cuts of meat, cooked for hours, and subsequently labeled “pot roast.” My grandmother would always add potatoes and carrots an hour or so before the roast was done to make a more substantial meal. Pot roast

My also routinely roasting or boiling chicken. The broth from the latter was turned into chicken soup with carrots, celery, onions, homemade noodles, and kneidlach (soft matzos balls).

For special occasions, my grandmother made tiny sweet and sour meatballs, which were eaten with crushed matzos. The sauce was made from ketchup, brown sugar, and white vinegar.

I don’t recall her ever making lamb, veal, steak, or fresh fish. Maybe my grandfather didn’t like fish so it was disguised as gefilte fish, lox, herring, kippers, and canned and smoked salmon. Below is her recipe for scalloped salmon, which was showcases how a can of salmon can ended up serving several people, possible for multiple meals.

Beef

  • Roast
  • Pot roast
  • Stew
  • Spiced
  • Boiled
  • Corned
  • Casserole

Steak

  • Swiss
  • Swiss Fried
  • Chuck
  • Broiled
  • Pan fried
  • Stuffed
  • Flank
  • Chicken fried
  • Pounded

Ground

  • Broiled
  • Pan
  • Meat balls
  • Sweet & sour
  • Tamale pie
  • Barbeque sauce
  • Cabbage
  • Ground pepper loaf

Lamb

  • Roast
  • Ribs
  • Stew
  • Barley
  • Ground patties
  • Ground balls
  • Chops fried
  • Chops pan fried
  • Breast stuffed?

Veal

  • Roast
  • Stew
  • Chop
  • Stuffed

Chicken

  • Boiled
  • Fried
  • Roast
  • Sweet & sour
  • Fricassee
  • Salad
  • Olympic

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Rose’s Index Cards: Appetizers

30 Tuesday Jun 2015

Posted by rajalary in Rose's Writings

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appetizers, cooking, Julie Lary, rajalary, rose ridnor, scribbles writing

Deviled eggsMy grandmother was a list-maker so it was no surprise when I found a stack of index cards among her papers, containing lists of how much to tip someone (bellboys 25-50₵ per bags), painting and household advice, uses for vinegar, and what to make for meals. Below is what she wrote down for appetizers, followed by her recipe for deviled eggs. 

Fish: Preserved

  • Kippered salmon
  • Lox
  • Bismarck [herring]
  • Anchovies
  • Sardines

Fish: Fresh

  • Boiled
  • Gefilte

Meat

  • Sweet & sour meatballs
  • Sweet & sour chicken
  • Chopped liver
  • Liver and eggs scrambled
  • Brains [beef, boiled, mashed, and mixed with onions]

Other

  • Chopped egg
  • Deviled egg chilled
  • Eggplant [Russian caviar]
  • Fruit cup

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Invocation #41: The Writer

29 Monday Jun 2015

Posted by rajalary in Invocations

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Donald Trump, invocation, Julie Lary, rajalary, rose ridnor, writing

April 1985

The writer, in goodwill and intent, sets downs words with the purpose of conveying a message, an idea, a thought, an opinion, a whatever.

The reader reads the words, and puts an interpretation on them. Depending upon the mood of the moment, or attitude towards the writer, or subject matter, the reader can catch the writer’s meaning and accept it as offered, or read into it what he/she doesn’t want to know, or search between the lines for a hidden meaning. Also, the reader’s reaction to the words can run the whole scale of emotions from anger to laughter to yawn of boredom.

Upon whom should fall the blame for a misunderstanding?

Ironically, while the interpretation of a writer is done by the reader, upon the writer falls the burden of proof-of-innocent for conveying the intent of the wording.

But, could it be, O Lord, we inadvertently reveal in our words what we cannot recognize in ourselves and are therefore reluctant to face? In that case, are writers not innocent victims of their own writings?

When I first read this invocation, written by my grandmother 30 years ago, I quickly concluded most people face this dilemma in that their emails and instant messages can easily be misinterpreted. After all, it’s challenging to convey emotion in written communication unless you state how you’re feeling, such as I’m upset at the way you handled ___________ situation or I’m delighted at the outcome of the ______________.

The other options for communicating mood and subtle inflection is by using UPPER CASE LETTERS, exclamation points, and emoticons 8=) _ :-*!!

Indeed, the blame for the misunderstanding is almost always targeted to the writer, and not the reader, who depending their mood, could deduce a fervently written email is good news, sarcasm or worse.

What my grandmother wrote, however, is much deeper. It infers we sometimes write what we’re subconsciously thinking. While we might believe our wording is clear and effectively communicating our present thoughts and opinions, it may be conveying something entirely different.

This brings to mind a campaign slogan I once wrote, “When accuracy isn’t an option.” In my mind, I was inferring accuracy is imperative, not an option. However, others concluded I was saying accuracy isn’t important, and therefore not an option. Needless to say, the slogan was discarded.

A slogan, however, is just a couple of words. What happens when you write a lengthier piece? Before the Internet, the number of people who might read and misinterpret a personal or business letter, magazine or newspaper story, professional paper or newsletter was confined to recipients subscribers, and members of organizations.

Today, 140 characters or a couple of sentences can be heard or read by millions, turning an off-hand remark into a firestorm. Case in point, Donald Trump’s derogatory statements about Mexican immigrants during his presidential announcement speech, followed by his backpedaling, “I’m not just saying Mexicans, I’m talking about people that are from all over that are killers and rapists and they’re coming into this country.” In spite of this marginal explanation, it quickly became clear he truly said what he meant, issued the statement, “Mr. Trump stands by his statements on illegal immigration, which are accurate.”

Eck!

For most of us, we do occasionally write content, which can be misinterpreted or reveal thoughts we probably wouldn’t have expressed if our fingers weren’t typing lickety-split. It’s the hazards of technology that make it easy to dash off a comment, Tweet, email or blog with scarcely any effort.

Death Row Roses

05 Friday Jun 2015

Posted by rajalary in Gardening, Health and wellness

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Cecile Brunner, Julie Lary, rajalary, roses, setbacks

When Rich and I met, I was living in cute three-bedroom house in Sherwood, Oregon with a yard full of flowering bushes, spring bulbs, ornamental grasses, creeping pyracantha, and a giant rose bush, Cecile Brunner, locate in the far corner of my front yard. Once it took root, Cecile Brunner grew profusely, needing to be aggressively trimmed every year to prevent it from cascading over the sidewalk.

Year later, when we moved to Kirkland, Washington, I purchased another Cecile Brunner to commemorate our anniversary. This plant, however, wasn’t particularly healthy. I kept it in a pot, which probably contributed to its lack of vigor. Nevertheless, it finally took off, growing two or three branches, which were four to five feet in length.

In the fall, not wanting thorny rose branches stretched across the deck, Rich wielded a pair of clippers. I was devastated, believing Cecile Brunner represented our relationship, and by cutting off the branches Rich was dampening our lives together. Adding to my belief, the bush barely grew the next year.

It was a death row rose. Death row rose 4

Disappointed, I brought it to our Mount Vernon house, sticking it in the ground, and placing little faith in its survival.

I placed the same faith in the roses we transplanted from my mother’s house. She always had dozens of rose bushes. When we lived in Tarzana, California (San Fernando Valley), she’d purchase experimental roses from Jackson & Perkins. They were identified by a number on a metal tag. Occasionally, she’d learn that one of the roses was given a formal name and released to the public. One of these was French Lace, which was bred from R. Dr. A. J. Verhage and Bridal Pink™.

When she moved to Sherwood, Oregon, she dedicated the front of her house to roses and bulbs. She prided herself on keeping them trimmed, but as the years passed, they were neglected, and incorrectly pruned by numerous gardeners who haphazardly hacked off the branches. In addition, because the gardeners “raked” out the weeds, the front year turned into a mish-mash of straggly rose bushes, rampant sedum ground cover, bloomed-out bulbs, swatches of miscellaneous, unkempt plants, and bare soil.

After she moved out of her house, we tidied the yard, laid bark dust, and hoped the tenant had an interest in gardening. She didn’t, and two years later, implored us to remove the rose bushes and plant grass.

DNA to Thrive

In December, we showed up with boots, shovels, clippers, and tarps. We crudely trimmed and dug out the roses. Some we had to leave because their roots were intertwined with those of a large maple tree, which the tenant wanted cut down because of the amount of leaves it dropped in the fall.Death row rose.5

Sliding in the mud, with rain pouring down, we dug out over a dozen full-sized roses, and around two dozen miniature roses. The latter, my mother had probably purchased from grocery stores, and plunked in the ground after they bloomed.

We had to wait a week to plant the roses, which were in horrific shape with large, gnarled bud unions (at the bottom of the main stem), hacked off branches, and ripped up roots. Like Cecile Brunner after Rich had chopped off the branches, they were essentially death row roses with little probability of surviving.

Cecile Brunner2With jaded optimism, we planted the roses against the back fence of our Mount Vernon house, heavily fertilized them, trimmed out unnecessary and dead branches, and waited. As the weather warmed, little petioles started to appear on the bare branches. By spring, most of the roses – including the miniatures – were showing positive growth. In May, to my surprise, they started to bloom.

Like Cecile Brunner, once placed in the ground, and given nutrients, they thrived. Today, Cecile Brunner has grown up our two-story deck, and annually rewarding us with sprays of petite pink roses. I suspect the other death row roses will continue to flourish.

Reawakening Like a Rose

Cecile BrunnerWhen faced with challenges and setbacks it’s easy to throw your hands in the air, and give-up. It’s human nature. We want to continue to move forward in our job, relationships, quality of life, and reaching our goals. When we’re deterred, it hard not to feel defeated.

However, like a struggling rose, we have the potential to once again bloom, given time, persistence, and nourishment. Sometimes, we need to temporarily lean on others to help pick us up, draw our attention to other opportunities or point us in a different direction.

Often, it take longer than expected to bounce back. But, if we recognize the power of revitalization, then we can start to realize the possibilities, growing, blossoming, and reaching new heights.

… yes, the photos are of Cecile Brunner, and the blooms are from several of the rose bushes from my mother’s house.

Disguising Who You Are Has Consequences

05 Friday Jun 2015

Posted by rajalary in Invocations, Rose's Writings

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aging, Julie Lary, rajalary, rose ridnor

Written by Rose Ridnor, September 1963

There is this woman, five years old than I, she looks ten yearRose s younger.

A real glamour gal, hair bottled blonde, lovely creamy white skin, daily cold-creamed, lotioned, manipulated and patted woman with a flair for clothes and figure to show them to advantage, all finished off with beads and bangles to charm the eye. Sound catty? You betcha’ I am.

I look at her, then look at me. Dumpy, blah, clothes that shriek homemade by a shaky-scissored, ten-thumbed, blurry-eyed seamstress. I sigh with pity for myself.

Now then, I was gossiping with a young woman of late twenty, and in course of conversation, I asked Miss Twenties how old she thought Madam Blondie was, and to my utter amazement, she guessed her age within two years.

Evidentially, the young see age with clearer eye than we oldsters. They know but two ages, young and ancient. Their eyes do not gloss over wrinkles, sags and pouches, whereas, we oldsters become so accustomed to them with the passing years we skip over them.

Of course, I didn’t ask Miss Young Smarty-pants to guess MY age. Think I’m nuts or something!

Which brings to mind, a night quite some years ago, a woman came to the door selling religion. We asked her in. She talked for a couple of hours, and at one point, asked Grandpa quite coquettishly, “How old do you think I am?”Tammy Faye Bakker

He peered at her appraisingly. She had ghastly red hair, streaked with orange, sag lines on her face, but slim and trim in a full skirted black dress with large red flowers, girlish cut and gay.

Now when a woman like that asks a man to guess her age, she thinks she’s a spring chicken with a capital “S” for sexy.

Before I could pinch Grandpa in warning, he jumped in with both feet and opined she must be about sixty.

Well, that woman almost keeled over. When she recovered her composure, her lips parted in a sickly smile, but she was gracious enough to admit he had guessed right and complimented him on his astuteness. She put it down, however, as a lucky guess. For no one else, she finished, had ever guessed her to be more than forty-five.

If that makes her happy when she shuts her eyes and looks in the mirror, hurrah for her. But it seems to me, when you try too hard to fool other people, you focus more attention on what you’re trying to hide.

And guess who told who that he should take a course in etiquette and diplomacy. And if he ever volunteers the age of you-know-who, he better remember to lop off at least ten years!

www

After almost a year, Grandpa had an appointment with the doctor. The sign of the pretty young nurse reminded him that during his last visit, she’s mentioned getting engaged and was to be married shortly thereafter.

Now he offered her belated congratulations and good wishes. She thanked him, then added, “But I’m already divorced.”

Divorced! Engaged, married and divorced, all in less than a year. What a pity, what a waste.

As I sat there pondering the state of human affairs, while Grandpa expressed proper words of sympathy and understanding, the thought occurred to me: Whatever it was that tore them apart so quickly, must have been present even at the altar. It was not something that developed and grew in time with the stress of adjusting to each other, and to their own still evolving natures.

Not out of sheer curiosity, but rather to gain a little understanding I asked an asinine question, “Why could you not have discovered during courtship that you weren’t suited to each other?”

She provided a very sensitive answers, “Because then we were on our best behaviors.”

A rare bit of insight that comes too late to too many.

Invocation #40: A Ray of Sunshine

05 Friday Jun 2015

Posted by rajalary in Invocations, Rose's Writings

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invocation, Julie Lary, optimism, rajalary, rose ridnor

O Lord, we know that in your scheme of creation the sun rises faithfully at its time to announce a new day, bringing warmth and light and sustenance to all your beings.

But some days, your sun is hidden from view, the sky is clouded over. Some days, our eyes cannot see your sun, they are welled up with tears.

And some days, we cannot feel its warmth, our souls are troubled. We have closed off our senses and immersed ourselves in sadness.

On such day, O Lord, when we are lost within ourselves, remind us that even the longest, darkest night ends with a sun bursting into glory, beginning a new day with new promise, bright with hope.

And remind us that if we look beyond our fears we will find a ray of sunshine. We must grab it, hold on, use it to light our way through the day.

My grandmother, Rose Ridnor wrote this invocation on July 17, 1985. It was a Wednesday, and according to the New York Times, Moscow had offered new arms ideas in the Geneva negotiations. Today, they’re the aggressors in Ukraine.

On this day, over thirty years ago, President Reagan had a cancerous tumor removed from his colon. Today, Reagan would probably be appalled at the continuing arguments over the need to provide healthcare to those who can’t afford it or don’t have it offered through their work.

The Congress in 1985 was at an impasse over spending. The resulting compromise was for an additional $24 million over three years for non-military spending, and a $5.4 billion increase in the military budget in 1986.

Thirty years later, $24 million is a pittance compared to the $1.1 trillion estimated cost of the 2003 – 2010 Iraq War. The Department of Defense reported spending at least $57.8 billion on the war.

In 1985, Morton Bahr, the new chief of the Communications Workers of America called IBM anti-union, and announced a worldwide drive to organize the company’s employees. His efforts didn’t materialize and today employees are shuffled out the door with every dip in earnings, and those who remain are furiously competing with cheaper labor in Brazil, China, and elsewhere.

In 1985, the computer industry was in its infancy, nevertheless, seven people under the age of 18, who lived in New Jersey, were charged with conspiring to use their computers to exchange stolen credit-card numbers, and provide information on how to make explosives, and make free long-distance telephone calls and call coded-phone numbers in the Pentagon. They’d also obtained codes that would cause communications satellites to change positions, interrupting intercontinental communications.

Computer espionage is considerably more sophisticated and destructive today, targeting not just government entities and businesses, but individuals.

With the only constant in life being change, it makes sense, as my grandmother wrote, to look beyond ones fears, and a find a ray of sunshine that lights our way through the day.

Finger Pointing at Pensions

22 Sunday Mar 2015

Posted by rajalary in News and politics, Politics

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Chicago, Cleveland, Detroit, Julie Lary, pensions, politics, rajalary

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.”

Invocation #39: Who is Mighty?

16 Monday Mar 2015

Posted by rajalary in Invocations

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

generosity, invocation, Julie Lary. Rose Ridnor, rajalary

It is written: Who is mighty? He who turns an enemy into a friend.

Not by flattery. Insincerity gives the lie to good intentions.

Not by silver coin. Who can be bought once can be bought twice.

Not by promises one cannot keep. Nor by bestowing favors one will not repeat.

But by extending a hand in friendship, with motives pure and undemanding.

By listening to grievance and paying heed.

By being forgiving, even if not forgetting.

O Lord, mighty is the enemy, mightier still is the friend, but mightiest of all is the enemy who becomes the friend.

Rose Ridnor

“Motives pure and undemanding” exemplifies two meals Rich and I shared last week. Neither one was originally script to be memorable, but they left indelible impressions not for the excellence of the food, but the people who played roles.

The first meal was a dinner last Monday night with Rich’s sister, Georgene and her boyfriend, Pat. They’d met in their teens when they both worked at a McDonald’s in Anaheim, California. I don’t know how long they stayed together, but for they took separate paths as adults, marrying, having children, engaging in careers, divorcing, and reconnecting a dozen or so years ago.

In January, Rich had lunch with Georgene and their brother, Ralph having not seen her for over ten years, and speaking infrequently by phone or via email. I hadn’t seen her since around 2003, and had met Pat briefly in the same timeframe.

On Monday evening, we drove to the Red Hook Brewery for dinner. Shortly after we’d arrived, Pat shared that in his early twenties, he went to dinner with his boss who paid for the meal. The occasion made a huge impression on him. Afterwards, he resolved to make enough money to be able to afford to take people to dinner and pay for his meals. He concluded by saying that’s what he truly wanted to achieve in life.

His story was fleetingly acknowledged before he launched into another subject. Like a notch in a wheel, throughout the evening, my mind kept wandering back to what he’d said. When we returned home, I commented to Rich about Pat’s life objective to earn enough money to treat people to dinner. Rich was equally enthralled with Pat’s selflessly, generosity, and benevolence.

Many people, who yearn to earn lots of money, imagine spending it on travel, houses, cars, and other material items. Pat, however, sees money not as a way to get “more stuff,” but share with others. What makes his life objective even more astonishing is that Pat is extremely successful. His business has branches around the world!

Our second memorable meal of the week took place on Saturday morning. Whenever there are coupons for McDonald’s, Denny’s or other national chain, which arrive in the mail or newspaper inserts, Rich skededabbles to an apartment complex within walking distance of our Kirkland house. He shuffles through the trashcan by the complex’s mailboxes where resident chuck the mail they don’t want… including “valuable” coupons.

Most of the coupons we leave on the “free” table where I work, or give to other people. On Saturday, morning, with coupon in hand, we had breakfast at Denny’s. After ordering, Rich walked around giving coupons to other diners, including a family with two kids.

Towards the end of our meal, the father approached our table, thanking us for giving him the coupon. I replied that it was our pleasure. Then the man said he paid for our meal.

Rich and I were speechless.

Twice last week, we experiences “motives pure and undemanding” and the true meaning of friendship and goodwill.

Elizabeth Warren’s Plan

12 Thursday Feb 2015

Posted by rajalary in Politics

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Elizabeth Warren, equal pay, Julie Lary, minimum wage, poverty, public assistance, rajalary, Texas, unions

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.

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