Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Jesus Medina


As published on carlsbad.patch.com; Dec. 1, 2010

Making a Noble Living in Carlsbad: Jesus Medina

If you live in Carlsbad, you know his tomatoes; now meet the man.



  Anyone who visits the Carlsbad Village Farmers Market knows the face, tomatoes and zucchini blossoms of Jesus Medina.

For the last 18 years or so, Medina has worked for Valdivia Farms, a family-run Carlsbad ranch on the corner of Tamarack and El Camino.
He credits his father-in-law and employer, Francisco Valdivia, with giving him the opportunity to raise his children here in Carlsbad. Medina calls Valdivia, a Carlsbad rancher for more than 40 years, the "epitome of the American dream."
When you talk with Medina, phrases such as "fortunate and blessed" and "honest hard work" are woven throughout his sentences.
Throughout the years, Medina has tried to give back to his community by coaching both baseball and football from the high school level down to little league.
There's no place in the world like Carlsbad, Medina says. "I couldn't ask for a better home town. ... and to put my kids through school on seeds, dirt, water and sun is a pretty noble living."

### 


the original, more subjective submission:

   Anyone that visits the Carlsbad Farmer’s Market knows the face, tomatoes and zucchini blossoms of Jesus Medina. 

For the last 18 years or so, Jesus has been with the family-run Carlsbad ranch, Valdivia Farms (on the corner of Tamarack and El Camino). Calling him the “epitome of the American dream”, Jesus is obviously admirable and proud of his father-in-law and employer, (a 40+ year Carlsbad rancher) Francisco Valdivia.

Medina credits Valdivia with affording him the opportunity to raise his children here in Carlsbad. “I couldn’t ask for a better home town… and to put my kids through school,” he adds, “on seeds, dirt, water and sun is pretty noble living.” 

When you talk with him, terms like “fortunate and blessed” and “honest hard work” are woven throughout his sentences. 

Carlsbad itself is fortunate and blessed to have Jesus Medina active in the community. Throughout the years, Medina has coached both baseball and football from the high school level down to little league. And when it comes to role models for children in our schools and community, it’s people like Jesus Medina that help preserve and encourage values like “hard work” and “honest living”. 

Medina says that there’s no place in the world like Carlsbad, California. I say that’s because it’s people here like him that make it this way.

###

© 2010 dconder.llc

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Clara Evans


As published on carlsbad.patch.com; Nov. 28, 2010

Everyone Has a Story; Clara Evans Has an Extraordinary One

Meet the lady behind the artist.


   On any given weekend in front of Carlsbad Inn, you may find, as I did, artist Clara Evans.
Clara was born and raised in Amsterdam, immigrated to America, went back to Holland for college, then to North Carolina, Florida and finally California (Pacific Beach) where she's "been in the same house since 1958."  Much of her artwork draws on memories of these travels.
She commutes to Carlsbad from Pacific Beach on a regular basis. She'd love to live here and prefers Carlsbad "because it's such a peaceful [yet active] area." But one of her three sons and grandchildren are there in PB, so she's "staying close to them."
Clara's closeness with her family is deep-rooted. You see, when she was 9 years old and her parents were planning their immigration to America, her mom protested the date on the tickets that her dad brought home. Obeying his wife's wishes, he got them listed on a later departure on another ship. A few days later they learned that their original vessel had hit two German mines and sank within minutes in the North Sea. Clara declares that her family was certainly blessed that day and that they shed many tears together over the years for the families that lost their lives.
Whoever coined the phrase "Everyone has a story to tell" was spot on. It's true-life stories like Clara's that are in each of us. Some are grand, some are sublime, some are poignant, some are strange—and the list goes on. But the only way to hear the history and thoughts bottled up in that regular person next to you in line at the Farmers Market, walking along Carlsbad Boulevard or just sitting at the Carlsbad Inn art exhibit, is to ask. 

###

the backstory...

I didn't get the bit about that fateful day until I had her show me some of her art. I noticed that in a number of pieces, she had renderings of the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse along with tiny, tiny printing. First, I asked about the lighthouse, "Well, that," she said, "is the first thing I remember seeing when we finally got to America." Then the tiny printing... "Those are all shipwrecks that happened along the North Carolina coast since they've been keeping records." Okay, fair enough. "You immigrated to America?" I asked, "How did that go?" Seeing the drawings of the lighthouse and the list of shipwrecks along with her using the word "finally" clued me in... and being the socially aware person that I am, I knew there HAD to have been an issue. And there was; and that's when she told me.

She couldn't remember many details but gave me enough to verify the events and here's what I found: I believe they were to sail on a Finnish military ship called the Ilmarinen. She had mentioned that her dad worked for a shipyard and that some big flagship vessel was to carry them to America- that's all she knew/could remember. The Ilmarinen is the only ship on record that has ever been struck by two German sea mines in the North Sea. This was in September 1941 and it was the flagship of the fleet.

Apparently, I believe, they were going to another port in the North Sea, then on to another ship headed for the shipyard at Cape Hattaras. I think she had/has no idea it was a military transport. Her father was most likely being transferred by the Finnish Navy to the US for who knows whatever reason. Being that she was nine, she didn't have all those details, and I guess was never really given them later in life.

At any rate, it was a major sinking to the Finnish military- their flagship vessel; 132 survived, 271 lost. The ship was completely submerged in seven minutes.

Everything I verified correlates to the few sketchy details she gave me in that brief interview, surrounded by her art on the side of the road.

###


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The Backstory on "People We'll Meet on the Street"

   On November 15, 2010, my column on carlsbad.patch.com officially launched. Called People We'll Meet on the Street, I modeled this series of real-people snippits after a documentary project I edited in 2006 for director David W. Gibbons. That project, 14 Days in Great Britain, won critical, yet limited acclaim.

For me, 14 Days is an experience, not just a video documentary. It's thought-provoking and inspires a broad stroke view of the world from the mouthes of common every-day folk.

© 2005 Lighthouse/Hursey
Along with the video crew, Gibbons had two still photographers on location doing both studio and environmental portraits for what was to be a heavy-bound coffee table book. It's these environmental portraits done by LA photographer Dana Hursey that literally took my breath away when I first saw them. And today, they still do.

So when the opportunity came up to get onboard with the local patch.com bureau (an AOL venture), I presented this modified and localized concept of 14 Days to Carlsbad editor Deanne Goodman: Done as a weekly column; like Gibbons, I would simply go out on the town and talk to people. Like Hursey, I would (attempt) to take an awesome environmental portrait them.

Goodman agreed and the column is underway.


© 2010 dconder.llc
Now, it's easier to describe these stories in terms of what they are not rather than what they are: They are not news. There may be some local and timely insight from time-to-time, but this is opinion. Simple as that. Some will be commonplace, some will be extraordinary. That's life. Some will be posted on Patch. Some will not.

As new articles come online, whether it be through patch.com, other national media or my local desktop, I'll bounce them to this blog along with a little more backstory, if any. You can follow along here, or use this direct link to the column on Patch: People We'll Meet on the Street.

Unfortunately, Gibbons' 14 Days Project has been put on indefinite hiatus due to funding; and DVD copies of the documentary are all but extinct.

There are a few archival links still online that will give you a feel for what this endeavor was all about:
For more about 14 Days in Great Britain:
          http://www.steppinoutnewmexico.com/printout.php?articleid=341

To inquire about the 14 Days Project: info@davidgibbons.org
For more about patch.com: www.patch.com/about

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Wednesday, September 8, 2010

I've Attended A Loan Mod Hoedown; Going Again Soon

   As I gather my documents for what will be my sixth home loan modification attempt, thoughts of past attempts' successes and failures have begun to surface. I am going to journal this adventure now before these memories suppress themselves again. My hope and prayer is that through my adventures and misadventures with the mortgage moguls, you future loan mod attemptees will gain a better understanding of what your dancing partners could be like.

There were and are so many players at this shindig that it would make for a boring and ineffective read to leave out the names. If this were print, I'd think twice about it; however, I will dodge the libelous bullet and state now that truth is my defense.

Let's face it, if you refinanced your mortgage between 2005 - 2007, you are most likely in a train wreck of a loan. Those are not my words. These words were told to me by an agent at Washington Mutual who took over our loan in 2007. She said that they had this new thing called a "loan modification" and that I needed to do this if my family and I planned on staying in our home for the unforeseeable future.


A Train Wreck Of A Loan
It was sold to me in 2006 by a third-party outfit called Sunwest Mortgage. They made it easy to get in to, easy to cash out. What I didn't realize is that they put in for a 3.5% margin plus early-termination penalties ($17k). I'm sure it was all in the 200-page contract. Seriously, it was 200 pages. Who wants to read all of that legalese when it's just oh so easy to do? I had no choice, really. To keep the business in the black, it made sense at the time regardless of the penalties.

Back to 2007 and WaMu (as they began to be called).... Seriously. what were they thinking? What a silly name for such an intense time. Could it be that this poor branding choice contributed to their demise? Alright, I digressed....

Back to 2007... Linda at WaMu sent me a small contract of around 4 pages. My wife and I signed and notarized and BAM! It was done. Our monthly payment immediately went down by $850. Good news: no penalties, low margin and APR; bad news: it's an ARM. Regardless; God bless you Linda!

About four months later Linda gives me a call saying it looks like interest rates dipped again and they can reduce the payment by an additional estimated $500 per month. The cost to do this was $800. So a no-brainer. She sent a document to sign, we returned it with a check. She got a commission, we got a lower payment an that fee was recouped in less than two months.

She called again a couple of months later. Same pitch, lower rates, lower payment (~$350.) lower cost to initiate: $500. So we did it. She's a costly one to dance with, but well worth it.

That was the last time I ever heard from Linda. WaMu tanked. It was the largest American bank failure in history, no less. So that was their problem; little did I know, mine were just beginning. My new statements came from Chase Home Mortgage, a division of JPMorgan Chase.

Let's get this straight right now: I do not like Chase Home Mortgage. There is no one like Linda there offering me a 4-page deal and calling me "hun" in a southern accent on the phone. I believe to this day that Washington Mutual saw this mortgage mess coming and were doing what they could to fix it on their end- and they knew it was futile. Too little, too late.


Life with Chase Home Mortgage
By early 2008, I could see that Linda's band-aid fix for our loan needed to have a little modification love. Rates were lower, and it became widely known that mortgage banks desired to get the existing ARMs modified to a fixed-rate product. Great. Time to do a mod. Even greater: Chase has a full-on modification department and it's all done on-line. Begin.

Over the next 9 months I old-school faxed some 400 documents to Chase Home Mortgage. Usually, I only found out they needed updated information when I called and asked. They NEVER called or mailed giving me a progress report or requesting an update for my file.

One fateful day I received a letter from Chase Home Mortgage that simply said: "Under President Obama's Making Homes Affordable plan, you do not qualify." WHAT!? My ARM payment is 48% of my income. How can I not qualify? The form letter went on to say that I was disqualified because I owned a small business. Great. Another example of American Small Business Owners being punished. The letter also invited me to re-apply for a loan modification. Like I want to do that again.

To this day, (Chase and Obama) I believe I had a great case for a modification: an ARM; steady income; a mortgage payment that had grown to 48% of our gross and 4 years of personal and corporate tax statements that proved all of this.



Time To Get Serious
After some time passed I inadvertently got "hooked up" with Glover Law, a firm that specializes in getting loan modifications for borrowers that have been previously been turned down. They sold me on their pitch; which made sense. I researched them, they looked good, so we engaged.

Now this experience started out pleasantly enough. I discussed matters with them on a regular basis. They emailed when updates were needed. They emailed progress reports.There was solid two-way communication between us. But this did not last.

I began to discover that Chase had never received information from Glover Law.
WHAT?! We were well into this for six months and they had no dialogue going, apparently. When I confronted my contact at Glover, he said that Chase Home Mortgage is so big that certain divisions do not know what others are up to. Chase INSISTED that they know what ALL departments are up to and that no-one from Glover Law had EVER contacted them. I confronted Michael Glover, Esq. and got the same answer from them as before: "Chase is big and complicated, the people you call cannot interact with the people we call." I asked for the names at Chase they talked to and never received an answer. Some time went by and I quit getting updates from Glover. I asked again for the Chase names and got nary an answer. Okay, good bye Glover Law. I withdrew what was left out of my escrowed payment to them and closed the account.

Maybe this was a scam, maybe it wasn't. I cannot say. They did seem to try really hard for the initial few months. My gut feeling is that they could NEVER make contact with Chase, so they simply gave up. Like Watergate, the problem is the cover-up. Again I can neither prove nor disprove this. The pundits at Chase insists to this day that they've never heard of this law firm.


The Right Relationship Is Everything
Yes Chase, that's a great tag line you had in 1997. It's not hard to figure out why it was dropped. I wish I could say that I have had a "right relationship" with you. Regardless, I'll be asking you to the Annual Loan Mod Dance again soon. Why do I feel I'll be left standing at the punch table again getting, well… punched?



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Saturday, September 4, 2010

Not about Work: Things I've Learned About Ants

   Earlier this year our home started being invaded by ants. Fortunately, these were not the fire ants like we had back in Texas that want to tear flesh from your bones. These guys were just looking for sweets and have no defense, so I decided to do a set of experiments before calling in the pros.

Myrmicaria brunnea feeding on sugar crystalsImage via Wikipedia
 a cute black sugar ant- like any one of the THOUSANDS that have passed through our home









I will not go on about the set-up and tests, just the results:
(I'll use the term LOVE and HATE here because attracted-to and not-attracted-to are much too clinical and do not encapsulate the drama I witnessed in the ants.)

Sugar Ants:
  • LOVE Popsicle juice
  • HATE gasoline
  • LOVE dried Popsicle juice
  • HATE Habanero pepper juice
  • LOVE Jamacian Rum
  • HATE 99 bananas (schnapps)
  • LOVE Fantastik® and Formula 409
  • HATE Pine-Sol®
  • LOVE the freezer (until they freeze to death)
  • HATE the oven and grill (when ON)
  • LOVE TERRO Liquid Ant killer
  • HATE anything that moves
There probably will be no future clinical trials, however; if you have other helpful ant observations, please post in the comments below!






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    Wednesday, July 28, 2010

    Life Lessons in Towing a Trailer

    I've just put my Hummer H3T Alpha in the shop to be checked for damage after a sequence of events that not only perhaps damaged my truck but also left me creatively barren for a few days. Here, at Weseloh Chevrolet and Hummer, I have time to reflect. And thanks to my mini-iPad (the iPhone), I can bang out this muse.

    It all began exactly a week ago when I went (with family in tow) to U-haul to square away our trailer order for the move out of the Albuquerque office/apartment some two days away. We were assured that everything was good to go with the exception of the hitch ball kit for the drop bar (part 4944). This was no big deal since that part and kit would be in on the day we took delivery of the trailer. During this time the kids were clearing out the free doughnuts that where sitting out. Great.

    After packing up what was to be a 3 year stay in a studio apartment and edit suite, my son and I went to U-haul to retrieve the 12' trailer. To my un-surprise (I'm cautiously pessimistic at all times), part/kit 4944 wasn't in. We were again assured this was no problem since they have all the parts needed around the shop. (Where are those dang doughnuts?) So after some paperwork with the new guy (he's obviously a newbie because everything is taking FOREVER at this point), we go out to get hooked up.

    I worked with a film director once that always insisted that people should "triple check everything!" Well, I'm not a trailer expert, so I couldn't check the new guy's hookup ability (not even once), but I'm pretty sure the nut on the hitch ball needs to be cranked with a wrench, right? I asked him this, and the reply: "Nope, hand-tight is good enough!" Assuming the guy had all the proper training, I said, "Okay!" pessimistically and doubtfully, of course.

    Is it the customers responsibility to check the service providers' work? Does the lack of proper training or retention fall on the customer? I went to the experts to get "hooked up". They know (or should know) this business, not me. Right?

    As someone who structures teams, consults and advises, I come from the mindset of letting the trained experts do their art and get out of the way. Yes, art, not part. When does one draw the line and say, "hold on, dude, that's all wrong"?  When common sense prevails, perhaps. I was pondering this as the various safety chains were wrangled around. Fortunately, just then, a weathered, seemingly more experienced worker came over and looked at the hookery. I was relieved.

    In reflection, the seasoned pro just "looked" at the hook-up. There was no checking and inspection. For me, the customer and trailer idiot, I was relieved. There is a difference between "looking" and "checking". Although relived, I did want a third opinion, but how rude and demanding is that? They are the experts after all. Right?

    We loaded up and bittersweetly left Albuquerque pulling a trailer that made the H3T Alpha drive oh so crappy. Finally, in a blinding rainstorm, we couldn't take it any longer and stopped at a TA Travel Center in Galllup, New Mexico to check the ball and chain(s).

    What was it that film director Nat Christian always said? Oh yeah, triple check. Well; cuss, this thing was only "checked" twice and now the nut is all loose and about to fall off because there's no cotter pin to keep it on. What!? No pin.

    Was I relying too heavily on U-haul in Albuquerque being the experts? Yes, now it's apparent. The customer is always right, even if they are clueless.

    A mechanic named Gilbert at the TA loaned me this giant wrench and another gentleman in overalls gave me a cotter pin. In the downpour in a t-shirt and board shorts I cranked the nut, showing no mercy and inserted the safety pin. Cool. No, cold and wet. I was soaked. I probably looked like a surfer-mechanic; no, just a maniac walking back into the TA with that giant wrench.

    On a side note, while pulling out of the TA parking lot, we circumnavigated two locals that were in a fist-fight. One of them had rocks in his hands. Looks like they could use a little brushing up on their emotional intelligence. Anyway, the drive was better; but not great. About one-hundred miles later the trailer began to jerk the Hummer around again. Nothing a little high-4 lock couldn't fix. That'll show that trailer who's boss. And it did.

    We were close to Winslow, Arizona, so we stopped at the independent U-haul operation there (there's only one). It wasn't clean. It wasn't branded. It wasn't commercial AT ALL. As the stereotypical greasy-mechanic-in-overalls approached, he exclaimed, "Who the hell connected this thing!?... they didn't know nothin' 'bout no trailers." Seriously, I'm not making this up. Well okay, here's my official triple check right now.

    While chains were re-routed and things were tightened, I learned that this kid's name was Chance. He'd been working with his grandparents on "hitches and trailers and so forth" since he was "'bout ten". I figure he had around 20+ year's worth of trailer hookup experience.

    Out of the three chains (two safety and one brake) that connect to the tow vehicle from the trailer, all three were wrong according to Chance. He did all he could do without us unloading the gear (I like to call everything gear since I've dealt with camera and lighting gear all my life). I was not "'bout" to unload all that gear! He said the drive would be much better now that the brake chain was positioned and set properly but that I should tighten that hitch ball nut regularly.

    We got back on the road and the Hummer no longer needed to be in high-4 lock. The trailer has submitted. Thank you Jesus for Chance. And Gilbert, too. And for the fact that this crazy trailer never broke loose and careened down the highway like headless chicken spewing our gear all over I-40 like a really nasty larger-than-life road kill.

    Standby…

    I'm back at the desk now after a nauseating ride in a shuttle van. Writing style may change because I can now type like the wind. You may want to read faster for effect…

    Things were fine after Winslow, although we had to drive 55 and be passed BY EVERY SINGLE VEHICLE ON THE ROADWAY. Above double-nickle, the trailer would fishtail and loosen the hitch ball. Then I would have to go borrow a giant wrench and perhaps come in close proximity to more fighty locals. I digress… Things were fine until we crossed into California. California, home to the most deplorable highways in the country. I believe the settlers in covered wagons may have had a smoother ride than you can today in a sedan on a California interstate. Seriously, I-40 between the state line and the checkpoint is a joke. I believe there are weeds growing up through the center stripe. Hey California, FIX YOUR INFRASTRUCTURE! It's bad for business, vehicles and peoples' necks.

    So needless to say, the trailer was drug by the Hummer in high-4 lock until again, it was so bad I thought the rear axle was going to be jerked out from under us. This was in Moreno Valley. We stopped at a strip mall and I went around asking strangers for a giant wrench… (the store there didn't have one big enough). Once again, the Lord provided and an awesome Cal-Fire support truck pulled up next to our defunct rig. They weren't there to help, just to go eat at the taco shop. Jen, my wife, didn't let the opportunity go to waste. She ran in front of them in her flip-flops and asked if they had a giant wrench. Keep in mind, if you ever ask the fire department for a giant wrench, they will deliver.

    Hungry for tacos, Cal-Fire accesses the situation
    Thank you Cal-Fire dudes in Moreno Valley for tightening our hitch ball and not going to eat tacos right away. Ironically, the Captain's name was Gilbert. That's the second Gilbert that cared to help in this endeavor. There's got to be Biblical symbolism in there somewhere.

    Things were really, for the most part, uneventful the last two hours of the ride. We had some military dudes unload the trailer. They were cool. Then I returned that ridiculous thing to U-haul in Oceanside, CA. Now, what do you think the U-haul dude said to me?

    "Tell me about the problems you had." WHAT?! How did he know? I hadn't blogged, tweeted or facebooked about this yet. So I asked him how he knew. He said that he could see that the ball was installed incorrectly on the drop bar. There's this stupid little ring thingy that's supposed to pop off when tightened sufficiently. The cotter pin was not the standard type, (because it was from TA in Gallup, New Mexico), and he could see that the liquid weld wasn't applied to the bolt. I had no idea there was supposed to be liquid weld. Did that newbie dude in Albuquerque and his weathered counterpart know this? "Because the hitch ball was floppy, it continuously activated the brake assist on the trailer." This I knew, because it was common sense, but once that trailer was hooked up, that ball could never get as tight as it needed to be, even with the industrial strength might of Cal-Fire.

    Where's the life lesson in all of this? Read slower now.

    People come in all varieties. That's mostly not news. Some, you have to oversee more than others. Some are more cognizant than others. Some are more emotionally intelligent than others. It's up to each of us to know when to speak up and how, and when to shut up and get out of the way. This entire event, I believe, was a test of my emotional intelligence- right down to the hour-long wait at the dealership then the nauseating ride home just now. Each time in all of this when I felt helpless and frustrated, I forced those feelings and knee-jerk reactions into rational thought. This results in less stress and an optimum solution given the circumstances. What's more, I didn't look like a jerk with the "why me, why now attitude". Maybe that's good on TV, but not in real life.

    It was also a test of faith. My wife and I had faith that nothing terrible would happen. We believed it. And at each stress pinnacle, a Gilbert was there to help out. Surely, had I just had the knowledge and authority to not allow the initial poor install to happen, none of this would have happened and this writing (hopefully helpful to someone) would not exist. Everything happens for a reason, it's all connected, seriously.

    BTW, just got the call from the dealership: no problems with the Hummer. Now that's a tough truck.





    the kids and me celebrating the fact that we're home
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