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Sunday, April 27, 2014

Balls

Every Tuesday night I sit down with a cluster of pill bottles and parse out my daily meds into a plastic box featuring seven lids labeled with the initials of the days of the week raised on top.

When I attempt to pour one pill at a time into each little cubicle, all too often out come tumbling two, sometimes three. Skilled as I am, after all these years, at dispensing pills, I just do not have enough control at it—and that is not because I am uncoordinated. Each pill bottle has a shoulder at the top, from which rises the drum-shaped, threaded outlet. The pills jam up inside the shoulder and will come out only when I gently shake the container; and sometimes I shake just a tad too hard for the pile-up to release a single tablet.


You know all of this. The same thing might happen to you. But here is my point:

When the industrial designer, all proud of herself and imagining herself to be so superior to all of us because she could design things and we could not—when she, I say, sculpted the pill bottle for the first time, then cast the prototype all lah-de-dah and full of herself, she was not thinking about what it would be like to use that bottle as a consumer. She was just “doing her job.”

Someone who does think about what it feels like to pour medications from a bottle, me for instance, would design the inside of a pill bottle with one side—at least—ramping up from inside the body of the container to the outlet. No shoulder. The ramp would also narrow as it approached the top, so that a single file of tablets would line up. Such a dispenser would allow one to tip a single pill with control to spare.

Thoughtless designs that ignore the user are everywhere. The windshield wiper lever is so close behind the steering wheel in my truck that when I have to make a sudden move—like driving on our hairpin-infested “back way”—I frequently nick the lever with my little finger and the wipers spring to action smearing back-way dust back and forth in front of me. Thanks moron auto designer who drives his pickup truck only to the mall.

I can lock my cell phone so that I pull it from my pocket without activating a button or swiping the touch screen. But when the phone rings, everything on there comes live and the act of extracting the phone from my shirt pocket now changes several settings in ways that it takes half an hour to figure out and change back. It also hangs up on my caller. Thanks a lot you programmer who thinks you’re so clever to build all that software into our phones with no regard to how they interfere with actually using the damn thing as a phone.

Last example: I spent twenty-five years teaching mathematics to the youth of Los Angeles County, and very proud of it. During that time my colleagues and I survived twenty-five and more “reforms” and improvements to the art of teaching. These reforms were instigated by mayors and captains of industry, ivory tower teachers of teachers and psychologists who sent white mice through mazes, parent groups and school administrators  whose sole teaching experience might be three years as a gym teacher—no foolin’. Never, not once, in all that time, ever, was a teacher consulted. And we teachers had a pretty darn good idea of what was wrong, because we lived it every day.

I have two points, and I believe I have made my first one: the world is full of meddling know-it-alls who have no clue what effect their pet projects are having on the people they supposedly serve. I want to suggest that a Los Angeles County Supervisor, with two million subjects—er, constituents—can be grossly out of touch with lives on the ground in the same way. Like, say, allowing a small community to be land-locked for ten very difficult years.

My second, and more important point, is that these screw-ups can be fixed. It may take more work to fix something than it did to set it up right in the first place, but if it was possible to screw it up, it is also possible to fix it.

But that takes EFFORT. And BALLS.

BALLS. That’s right. I said BALLS.


We applaud the staff of Los Angeles County Supervisor Michael D. Antonovich for having the courage to right the wrong at the railroad crossing, and for shoving his Deputy Norm Hickling out into the lights to face our community. They could not have chosen a better or more graceful ambassador. But now let’s finish this thing, thoroughly and expeditiously.

It will require intelligence, compassion, and BALLS.



Monday, April 14, 2014

Closer?

At a community meeting with Los Angeles County officials last Friday, April 11, 2014, Briggs Road residents learned of the progress the county has made toward restoring their traditional access to Soledad Canyon Road. 

Briggs Road Community Cherishes and Maintains the Natural Terrain
But first, bottom bottom line: we are not there yet. We cannot drive any closer to Soledad Canyon Road than we could after the last meeting a month and a half ago, nor do we have an easement by the other, long and tortuous “back way.” I do apologize for starting off with this downer disclaimer, but after the last meeting newspapers and friends had the impression that we were finally freed from government forces besieging and land-locking us. That was not the case then, and it is not the case now.

On to a more positive slant—

Norm Hickling, deputy to County of Los Angeles Michael D. Antonovich, listed these encouraging developments [comments in brackets are mine]:

Mountains Recreation and Conservation Authority is now willing to give the Briggs Road Community an easement through that last parcel where “the back way” emerges onto Agua Dulce Canyon Road. [I cannot tell you what the time span is between “willing to give” and “has given.” In the opinion of this very naïve observer it should not take long at all, but in the lengthy experience of this very jaded casualty of callous government, who knows?]
  
The Dust Trap
The once celebrated straightening and shortening of the back way, such an encouraging promise eight years ago, is back on the list of possibilities. This time, though, the community will have to pay the several tens of thousands of dollars—maybe even a hundred thousand—for the grading. [Until we can do that, even with an easement at the end we still do not have a decent access for fire and emergency vehicles. However, it seems to this very naïve observer that establishing the easement, even without the new road, would go a very long way toward restoring our devastated property values.]

California Department of Fish and Wildlife and Los Angeles County engineers are working toward creating an expedient access across the Santa Clara River. [A low non-obtrusive Arizona crossing would suit the Briggs Road Community best, but Oasis Park may have commercial intentions and need a higher crossing which would cost more and possibly wash out more frequently.] Since it is the users who will bear the expense of construction, Los Angeles County counsel is fully engaged in working out how the Briggs Road Community and Oasis Park will share rights and responsibilities.

Low Crossing Would Suffice for this Typical Low Flow
We will meet again in 40 to 60 days, unless something wonderful and positive occurs, in which case Norm will contact us.

Now here is the sad part. Our trust has been badly damaged. As I have said before, I want to believe what I hear from the office of Los Angeles County Supervisor Michael Antonovich, as do most of the rest of us. And so I choose to believe that these developments are actually occurring. But my neighbors and I find ourselves unable to fully commit to believing anything any official says about our access any more. Some just don’t believe any of it. Others are compelled to append the phrase, “if they are really telling the truth,” to any discussion of what a Los Angeles County official says. This may be deserved, or it may be an artifact of government indifference and neglect. Whatever the cause, speaking only for myself, this loss of trust is very unfortunate and an additional complication we do not need.

Downtown on Briggs Road
Let us all—officials, residents, and any others involved—make a sincere effort to be worthy of trust, and to trust generously but judiciously.