Jam

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Occasionally, once every couple of weeks maybe, I’ll drive in to San Francisco for my afternoon shift rather than take the train in. A midday the traffic is usually light and you zip across. And though it’s unnecessary to drive since I live and work close to transit, it’s nice every once in a while not to do the short hike down to the station at 16th and Mission at 9:30 or 10 at night. That’s another story.

This afternoon the bridge approaches were clear as usual at 1 p.m. But the electronic sign at the bottom of the long incline after the toll plazas said there was an accident two or three miles ahead. Just ahead, the traffic was slowing, and it took a good 25 minutes to get up to the accident site on the west side of the tunnel that opens onto the suspension span that carries traffic into the city. Since traffic was just about stopped, I took out the camera and did some distracted driving.

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Lincoln’s Way

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Lincoln Highway: Austin, Nevada. August 1, 2007.

So, looking for a little something to say about our sixteenth president on his 200th birthday, I’ve come up a little short. For tonight, just this: You run into him everywhere. I remembered earlier this evening that the summer before last, when Kate and I drove across the country, we encountered Lincoln Highway markers on U.S. 50 in the middle of Nevada (above). That was news to me, because our Lincoln Highway in the south suburbs of Chicago was U.S. 30. The next day, we came upon more markers east of Salt Lake City, in a hamlet just off Interstate 80 (below). It turns out both places were on the route of the original Lincoln Highway route. (Check out Lincoln Highway, a simple but excellent site on the route and its history.) lincoln080207.jpg

Lincoln Highway: Wanship, Utah. August 2, 2007.

On the Homefront

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Just noodling around, looking for historical pictures of California for a possible project, I came across the Library of Congress stream on Flickr. Soon, I came across a series of slick, posed images of women at work during World War II in Los Angeles-area aircraft plants. I’m captivated by how much is going on here: high (for its time) technology, the serious industrial setting, the artful setup and shot, the costume, the war-on-the-homefront theme, the intensity of the worker as she does her job (not to mention the conceit that the man in the shot is instructing the little lady on what to do).

The caption: “Women are trained to do precise and vital engine installation detail in Douglas Aircraft Company plants, Long Beach, Calif.” It was shot in October 1942 for the Office of War Information, our domestic propaganda agency, and credited to Alfred T. Palmer, the agency’s chief photographer. Click for larger image.

Svein Tuft Watch

We’ve been a little adrift here. No peloton to ride in. No urge to get on the bike. Just guilty, guilty feelings about not being out there. But that’s changed now that Svein Tuft is in California. We hereby dedicate ourselves to following him — his progress, from afar — for at least a day or two during the Tour of California. To prepare, here are some very important Svein Tuft links. If you happen across this and want to contribute, send a note!

Canadian Rider Makes an Unorthodox Climb Toward Cycling’s Pinnacle: The New York Times article that started it all (“it” being Tuftmania).

Svein Tuft: the Wikipedia article

Svein Tuft: bio and race results from his former team, British Columbia-based Symmetrics Cycling.

Svein Tuft: racer page from his current team, Garmin-Chipotle

Svein Tuft Gets Pez’d (Pez Cycling News, August 19, 2008: focuses on Tuft’s race at the Olympic road time trial).

Svein Tuft’s journey to worlds silver: (October 13, 2008: a long Cycling News feature).

Interview: Svein Tuft (The Daily Peloton interview, December 19, 2008: includes Tuft’s racing plans for 2009, including Paris-Roubaix).

Svein interview after winning Canadian individual time trial, July 4, 2008.

Into the Wild, Onto the Road

Riding and racing for the pure joy of it: Canadian Rider Makes an Unorthodox Climb Toward Cycling’s Pinnacle.

It’s The New York Times on Svein Tuft, a 31-year-old riding in the Tour of California and who could make his debut in the Tour de France later this year. I suppose that if the Times is getting around to it, similar tales have appeared many other places, too. In any case — wonderful story:

“Those who have heard the tale of Svein Tuft have wondered, could it possibly be true?

“How he dropped out of school in the 10th grade, lured by the freedom of the outdoors. How he evolved into a barrel-chested woodsman with Paul Bunyan biceps. How he ventured, at 18, from his home in Canada into the wilderness on a $40 thrift-shop bike hooked to a homemade trailer.

“They have learned of the way he traveled sparingly, towing only his camping gear, a sack of potatoes and his 80-pound dog, Bear. The way he drank from streams and ate beside an open fire. Or hopped trains across Canada, resting as the land flickered by.”

Into the Wild, Onto the Road

Riding and racing for the pure joy of it: Canadian Rider Makes an Unorthodox Climb Toward Cycling’s Pinnacle.

It’s The New York Times on Svein Tuft, a 31-year-old riding in the Tour of California and who could make his debut in the Tour de France later this year. I suppose that if the Times is getting around to it, similar tales have appeared many other places, too. In any case — wonderful story:

“Those who have heard the tale of Svein Tuft have wondered, could it possibly be true?

“How
he dropped out of school in the 10th grade, lured by the freedom of the
outdoors. How he evolved into a barrel-chested woodsman with Paul
Bunyan biceps. How he ventured, at 18, from his home in Canada into the
wilderness on a $40 thrift-shop bike hooked to a homemade trailer.

“They
have learned of the way he traveled sparingly, towing only his camping
gear, a sack of potatoes and his 80-pound dog, Bear. The way he drank
from streams and ate beside an open fire. Or hopped trains across
Canada, resting as the land flickered by.”

Cake of the Day

It’s Groundhog’s Day. Also James Joyce’s birthday. I’m pondering how best to observe the latter. In the meantime, I have to indulge an inane while-shaving thought:

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‘Obstinately Persisting…”

Interesting word:

perverse

SYLLABICATION: per·verse

PRONUNCIATION:   pr-vûrs, pûrvûrs

ADJECTIVE: 1. Directed away from what is right or good; perverted. 2. Obstinately persisting in an error or fault; wrongly self-willed or stubborn. 3a. Marked by a disposition to oppose and contradict. b. Arising from such a disposition. 4. Cranky; peevish.

(From “The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition.”)

‘They Did Not Care’

One of the things that has preoccupied me this month, as I look back from its tail end:

Early the morning of New Year’s Day, a police officer with BART, the local rapid transit agency, shot and killed an unarmed man who was lying face down on a station platform. Even if you live clear across the country, you might have heard about the case. One element made it sensational: dozens of train passengers and other bystanders witnessed the shooting, and several, at least, were recording the scene on cellphones or other video devices. And one more factor added to outrage over what looks like an unprovoked shooting: the cop was white and the victim was black.

So, the past month has been marked by a slow and possibly botched investigation, the refusal of the police officer to answer any questions about what he did or why, multiple street protests that on one occasion turned into a riot in downtown Oakland, a murder charge, and today, finally, the first hint of an explanation for what the cop did.

The police officer, named Johannes Mehserle, was in court for a bail hearing yesterday. Beforehand, his lawyer filed a motion that described some of the events on the BART platform when the shooting took place. The story is simple: Mehserle and a fellow officer were having trouble subduing Oscar Grant, a 22-year-old they were trying to arrest for resisting arrest (one of my favorite circular-logic law-enforcement scenarios). Mehserle decided to use his recently issued Taser on Grant. He mistakenly pulled his semi-automatic pistol and fired a shot that killed Grant. Or maybe the story isn’t so simple: Mehserle reportedly told another officer that he shot Grant because he thought Grant was reaching for a gun.

The judge at the hearing granted bail of $3 million after noting that Mehserle’s story contained some serious inconsistencies. He’s not out of jail yet, and he has a prelminary hearing set in March. Sooner or later, he’ll be tried for some manner of homicide — either murder, as now alleged, or manslaughter.

The defense bail motion consists of nuggets picked out of about 700 pages of “discovery” — mostly interviews with witnesses and other police officers. It’s a document meant to show Mehserle in the most positive possible light so that the judge might see that justice might only be served by turning him loose on bail. My favorite tidbit in the motion’s Mehserle biography is this: “Mr. Mehserle enjoys music and has played the electric and acoustic guitars since age 14. He plays blues, jazz and rock and roll.”

The motion also tries to set the scene on the BART platform before the shooting. Other BART officers describe people screaming and swearing and advancing menacingly. Grant was cursing the cops and defying an order to sit until a BART officer struck him twice in the face. Here’s the situation as one officer recounted it:

Domenici stated she has been in other situations like Raiders games and has handled large amount of crowds. But the crowd on New Year’s Eve night was not a typical crowd. She stated everybody on the train was “out of control” and that it was “just too much.” Domenici stated the crowd did not care and was not concerned with authority figures. “They did not care what we represented as law enforcement figures. The people did not care that we were police officers.”

Domenici said, “You do what you’re trained to do and try to control the situation. But when people are not listening to you, knowing you are in full uniform and you are in authority, and they keep coming at you … I was afraid. I was afraid for my life and the officers’ lives. I kept thinking ‘I need to protect us.’ ‘I need to protect us.’ There’s all these people coming at us, not listening to us. I was afraid for my life and the other officers there. It just seemed like an eternity. We could not control the scene at all.”

I’m happy to say that except for the once of twice I’ve had an officer pull a gun and point it at me, I’ve had a mostly friendly, cooperative relationship with the police. I’ve talked to them as part of my work, I’ve been more than willing to do my part as a citizen and call them when I’ve seen a possible crime in progress, and I’ve never hesitated to call them when I need their help.

But I’m also acquainted with the fact not everyone has such a trusting feeling toward law enforcement. For lots of people–people who don’t live on a quiet little street in Berkeley, people who may be poor, who live in neighborhoods full of violent crime, who fit a certain suspect profile–law enforcement represents something else.

In fact, I can imagine there are those who see police officers, the representatives of law enforcement, as a class of people who believe their uniform confers authority and should command not only respect, but unquestioning obedience; whose default responses to resistance are threat and force; and who seem to believe that their own behavior ought to be tolerated as part of the price of keeping order.

[In case you’re curious: The Mehserle Bail Motion]

Let’s Bake a Cake

Some of the many confectionary tributes arriving at the Blagojevich household in the last couple of days:

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[By way of the Cake Writing Generator, with a nod to Marie.]