Always Wanting More - Alfredo Guajardo Morales

In few short hours we will bury my Dad. He died 4 days ago just shy of his 78th birthday.

Although expected, his death was still a bit of a shock especially for my mom who was convinced he would out-live her based on the life line on his palm. When we told her, she kept looking at her palm rubbing her thumb along her life line in disbelief.

Growing up, my Dad was practically mythical. He was involved in everything and exceptionally well connected. We considered it normal to have the Mayor over for parties, to be on a first name basis with judges, and to always be in the 4th of July parade. Even with our own activities, our parents were involved. If there was a project or a committee, my Dad would be on it, making things happen.

His involvement bled over to political arenas where he quickly became involved in many campaigns. I learned my way around, by mapping the streets of my town, walking precincts. He was in service clubs, on boards, and just had this way of making things happen. Once, he organized groups of low-riders for a neighborhood street cleanup to combat their bad image.

Looking back on it now, I realize where I get my own tenacity, because my dad was simply never satisfied. When he went in the Air Force, he was deemed too short to be a pilot, so he took one of the most dangerous jobs he could get on a plane without flying it. He was a flight mechanic on a typhoon chaser out of Guam. After the Air Force, still determined, he took private flying lessons and learned to fly single engine air craft. One of the proudest days of his life I think, was when he flew his own plane back to Texas to see family. I'd never seen him happier.

My Dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer's about 12 years ago. One of his doctors called it the "long goodbye." He was right. Sadly, most of my kid's recollections of their grandfather is of him being forgetful, not the man I knew.

Alfredo Guajardo Morales was born in San Antonio Texas in 1934. He lived life to the fullest, and taught me everything I know about always wanting more. Although we commit him to the ground today, all I can think is, "just keep flying Dad."

End of the Year, End of an Era

Even though I'm 4o years old, nothing confirms full entry into adulthood like caring for an elderly parent. When the roles are reversed, and you are thrust into the role of telling your parents what to do, in the same way perhaps that you once spoke to your toddler, it is then that you realize that you are the next generation. You are now a keeper.

My parents have been in decline for years. It's part of the reason I moved back to California. In the year 2000, my father was diagnosed with Alzheimers. Back then he was just very forgetful and would get confused from time to time. Today he knows I'm related, but often doesn't know my name or exactly who I am.

My mother has been caring for him during most of his decline, and my sister and I helped her as much as we could as we struggled to raise our own families. About a month ago, it proved to be too much for my mother to handle any more. Not just caring for my father, we were already helping with that a lot, but just being with him. Her decline, which started about 3 years ago with a stroke, was followed by a diagnosis for Parkinson's disease. After that instance, our involvement in their care has been increasingly involved.

It seems that rise has crested now. My father was recently admitted to a Board and Care facility for those who suffer from memory disorders, and my mother who's health has rapidly declined in the past month will also go to a facility where she can receive the 24 hour attention she now requires.

I don't know which is more significant: that they no longer feel like my parents, or that it's beyond the abilities of my sister and I to care for them. Either way it's a poignant way to end the year, that leaves me wondering what's next.

Preoccupied with Occupy

Let me start out with saying I support Occupy Wall Street and it's many sister movements. I'm happy that the term 99% now has a resonance throughout the country. I hope that it is a permanent part of the lexicon.

But, now that participants of Occupy encampments are being evicted across the country, I worry that the message is getting lost. As the battle becomes more about occupying a space I can't help but think that space is irrelevant.

For those who want change, myself included, it is good to remember that being preoccupied with occupying a space isn't the same as preoccupying the mind with an injustice that effects all but 1% of us.

Getting beyond the Hippies who Occupy Wall Street

There's an old curse that says "May you live in interesting times." When I was a kid growing up in the Bay Area in the 70's and 80's I couldn't help but feel I had missed out on such times. The Summer of Love was just shy of a generation before me, and my parents were mostly squares committed to being good Americans.

But, I saw glimpes of interesting things when we visited my uncle in San Francisco. He was a Harvy Milk generation gay man living in the Haight at that time. His life and friends seemed romantically exotic, and it was from my visits there that I got my first archetype of a Hippie. To me they were funny, and happy, and artistic and with some higher purpose (pun totally intended) that was beyond my own existence. So to me, old Hippies were more like a favorite uncle. And I'll admit that as a result of those encounters, throughout my teens, I secretly mourned that I was born too late to be a Hippie.

It wasn't until Burning Man that I started to have a disdain for Hippies. You see, at Burning Man we have this ethos that is led by 10 principles, one of which is Radical Self Reliance. After several years of systemic preparation for my annual trek to the Playa, I began to grow weary of those who would rather rely on another Burning Man principle, Gifting. In fact it wasn't long before I started to despise the phrase, "the Playa provides." To me this was code for "I'm a hippie, you're suppose to take care of me." Almost overnight, I found exaggerated dread locks, drum circles and the smell of patchouli to be annoying. What was even more annoying was the notion that I was somehow lacking as a person for not living such an unconventional life.

When the first reports of Occupy Wall Street appeared in mainstream media, I recognized the embodiment of the movement, and that created a momentary conflict for me. The statistic used to measure who has most of the wealth in this country was something I was already very familiar with. Thus, my disdain for Hippies had to take a back seat to my sense of social justice, which I ironically acquired in Catholic high school.

Now, as the Occupy movement has moved beyond Wall Street to include union members, airline pilots and veterans, I can't help but think one of two things: either somebody, somewhere cast a curse upon us for interesting times, or at some point in the early 80's I wished too hard to be able to identify with Hippies.

Burning Man - What we build

As predicted, with just days before I leave for the Playa, I am in a state of heightened anticipation, and a flurry of preparation.

I've said it before, for me, the the Burn starts with the prep. I make lists, preconceive, search, clean, buy and pack. There is something increasingly satisfying as I imagine the needs I will have for my time on the Playa and construct a personal infrastructure to meet them. Shelter, check; food, check; equipment, clothing, gifts, creature comforts, check, check, check.

What I do is simply a microcosm of what the community does as a whole. Right now, as I plan my remaining days in the Default World, friends are on the Playa, probably already at work realizing another preconceived plan that will support a community of 50,000. Later that population will flood the city, each camp with it's own plan.

Many are there to contribute in very significant ways; others maybe not so much. But, despite that, we will build a community of creative expression.

What strikes me the most about the process, is that given an opportunity, people will contribute to making an amazing community. They will create infrastructure and even institutions that benefit both themselves and others. It's what makes a community work.

With that in mind, I have to wonder about the motives of those currently trying to deconstruct community infrastructure in the Default World with tax cuts. What are they trying to build?

Rites of Passage

It's that time again. In about six weeks I will be chomping at the bit ready to go to Burning Man once again. This year the theme is Rites of Passage, interesting theme considering this is my 7th Burn. That has to mean something.

I was thinking about Rites of Passage over the holiday weekend as I watched an evening parade to celebrate the Fourth of July.

In my home town, the Fourth of July always meant a Parade, Picnic, Festival and Fireworks. From the time I was about four years old, I can remember always being in the parade. I rode on floats, roller skated, tap danced with a show troupe and marched in bands. A couple of years I rode my pink Hello Kitty bike.

When I moved away from home there were parades too. In Italy, where I was stationed as a young soldier, the Fourth of July meant standing on a parade ground, saluting as cannons were fired and then parading in step to a Sousa march. My favorite was Stars and Stripes Forever, and the first time I marched to this in uniform I admit, I was a bit choked up.

When I worked for a public access television station, I use to say that it was a lot like the Fourth of July Parade where one half of the town lines up to wave at the other half. It's a chance to say hey, this is who we are and what we are about. We're cheerleaders, and dog lovers and ballerinas and classic car enthusiasts. And when we walk down the street, showing that pride, those that recognize and appreciate it smile, wave back and sometimes applaud.

When people ask me about Burning Man, I often tell them it's a festival of self expression. Imagine the biggest Fourth of July parade ever with roaming floats, marching bands, a festival and even picnics in Center Camp. It's a place where you can display your enthusiasm if you dare. And if you are really brave you can allow yourself to display that kind of enthusiasm in the Default World as well. Now there's a Rite of Passage for you.

Where and When does the World End?

For weeks now certain Christians have been anticipating this day: May 21, 2011. An Oakland based pastor and his apostles are certain that this will be the Apocalypse, the day Jesus returns to earth, takes all the faithful with him to heaven, and leaves the rest of us to duke it out. My assumption is that I will be in the latter group.

But now, as this day has finally come, I can't help but wonder, in which time zone does the Apocalypse occur?

See the thing is, I'm currently in Japan. Here, it is 11:00 a.m. Saturday Morning. At my home in the San Francisco Bay Area, it is currently 7:00 p.m Friday, and in Jerusalem, it is currently 5:00 a.m. Saturday morning. So if the world is going to end, where is it going to end and in which time zone?

We've decided to have an Apocalypse party today with Movies like Independence Day, The Day After Tomorrow, and 2012. If the world is gonna end, might as well end it with a good burger and some hotdogs.