The Second Generation of Columnists Take Over

Goleta Grapevine Enters the Second Phase of Its Evolution, With a Weekly Rotation of Writers

By Silvia Uribe

Today is what we can call my "debut" as a part of the "second generation" of your Goleta Grapevine. I have to say that I was thrilled when I was approached to partake in what, up to now, was mostly Margaret Connell's column. Now that she has decided to run for Goleta's City Council, she will be 100 percent committed to her campaign. So, here I am, excited for the opportunity to communicate with all of you, and ready to write about the stories relevant to our community's interests, politics, sports, and social life in general.

To do this right - even though my contacts in the community keep me well informed - I will appreciate your leads in advance on anything interesting, important, or plain curious that you think is worth sharing with others. I encourage you to write to me and tell me what you have in mind. After all, this column is called Goleta Grapevine, right?

As for my background, I was born and raised in Mexico City, where I studied philosophy and Spanish literature, got married, and formed a family. Fifteen years ago, my family and I arrived in Santa Barbara, and a few years later, we moved to Goleta. I am the founder and owner of Transil-Pro, a translation and interpreting company based in Goleta, which has allowed me to collaborate with nonprofit organizations, county and city governments, and corporations alike. I also am a freelance writer for both English and Spanish language publications. I love everything I do, but writing is my passion.

TALKIN' POLITICS: We have to talk politics on the Grapevine, especially in the very effervescent time just before the elections. The political race is about to start - motors are warming up, plans are being made, strategies are being created, and politicians stand at the starting line already knowing the path that they want to take: one that would whoosh them to the final line as winners on November 4.

Many of the Democratic campaigns headquarters are housed together in one office, at 430 Chapala Street, which seems a fiscally responsible solution to me, notwithstanding its practicality. Volunteers are not only welcomed but truly needed during campaign time. If you have a little time to invest in helping your candidates, just swing by.

A politician not housing her campaign headquarters there is Lois Capps, which is quite surprising. Was this decision based on the fact that she's unopposed, which could mean no need for such collaboration, or could it be that she perceives this coming term as her last one, thus no need for her party's support in the future?

NO GOOD LAND FIESTA: No Fiesta in the Good Land:again? After living in Goleta for the last 10 years, and craving some Fiesta action in my town, I was very disappointed to see that nothing is really going on.

Margaret Connell

2008's Spirit of Fiesta Jessica Marquez (left) and Junior Spirit Ashley Almada

Yes, I am aware that there was an event on June 4, at Rancho La Patera and Stow House, called "Fiesta Ranchera." Although I applaud the effort and the initiative, I truly believe that this event missed the mark.

Please, someone tell me, is it so difficult to organize something related to Fiesta during Fiesta? At least a couple of events that would allow us, Goletians - or in Spanish, "Goletanos" - to avoid the big crowds in Santa Barbara, and at the same time, enjoy such this wonderful tradition. How about having the flamenco and Mexican dancers, and the singers at Girsh Park for our own "Noches de Ronda?"

It would not be a huge expense for our city to get a wood platform and a P.A. system rented. Maybe someone in the community might donate it, or if we collaborate with the Old Spanish Days organization, we might get it loaned to us. Who knows? The point is to bring family entertainment to our city that would allow us to partake in such a historical event in our laid back style.

GANGS IN GOLETA: Last week, I heard a very simple and interesting question: Is Goleta immune to gangs?

The question is timely and relevant because of the increased gang activity in Santa Barbara. Yes, we do hear of things here and there about graffiti, fights at Dos Pueblos and San Marcos, and some people complaining in the Isla Vista area about youth been harassed and pressured by older gang members, but nothing compared to the recent stabbings that we've all heard about.

One of the possible reasons for this suppression of violence may be that the Sheriff's Department has done a good job in keeping its fingers on the pulse of the town, and acting before things get out of control. Here's a formula that always work when problems are in sight: Attention + action = Prevention.

OUR NEIGHBOR MICHAEL JORDAN? It was heard on the Grapevine that Michael Jordan (he was back in town for the youth basketball camp that he does every year) has been looking for a home right here in Goleta. If he chooses to be our neighbor, it will be a proof of his good taste, and his appreciation for our still lovely town, and its people.

Have a good week, and enjoy life.

Silvia Uribe is a freelance writer with a Latina perspective.

Cross-posted at the Independent.com

Three Friends in Cancun

By Silvia Uribe

The best time to go on a vacation ought to be summer; a happy, hot, humid, fun time that allows for diversion, entertainment, or let's just call it, "play time." Play, that's precisely what my old friends from grammar school and I did a few weeks ago in Cancun. What a place! The last time I visited Cancun with my family was many years ago, when it was much less developed, so I feared that this time around the experience would not be as peaceful. Now we were three middle age women alone, and I did not know what to expect from a place to which the school spring breakers go, and where the "girls go wild" (according to the soft porn video commercials).

I was determined to make this vacation a relaxing one, which can pose a problem for someone who, like me, does not really know how to stop and do nothing - or like the high school crowd would say, just "kick it." But we had a plan. We made the reservations, and finally, we were on our way to the blue, turquoise, and sometimes steel colored waters of the Mayan Caribbean.

Through the airplane window, from Toluca (now a small town in the outskirts of Mexico city ) to my destination, I was lucky enough to see Mexico's four highest mountains - the "Nevado" in Toluca, the "Popo", and the "Ixta", close to the capital, and the "Pico" in Orizaba, Veracruz. They looked like enormous giants guarding the rest of the incomparable vistas of my homeland, and its -- for the most part -- humble and sincere people. It was a clear sunny day filled with all sorts of cloud formations contrasting with an intense blue sky. Armed with my new camera, I was able to get wonderful shots of these mountains that I will make large prints of to hang in my office walls. (I use pictures as an opportunity to spark conversation with known and unknown visitors alike.) Once in Cancun, the humidity and the heat welcomed us, making us rush to our hotel to change to more ad-hoc attire. We took a tour of our hotel, and it was the start to one of my most wonderful vacations.

We went swimming, and snorkeling, went to a mangrove, danced to "salsa", and among many other things we did, we went to the largest club that I have ever been to, "The Coco Bongo." From the VIP area where we were lucky enough to get a table, we watched the best variety shows (I counted 19) one after the other. We danced and danced until our feet could not do it anymore. It didn't matter to us, or anyone else for that matter, that we were the same age as some the youngest attendees' grandmas. We, like the three musketeers, were one for all and all for one even in the unexpected and quite wild, loud, and at times overwhelming nightlife experience. We left the club at 3 am and went to have some original "tacos al pastor" immediately after. Picture this, pork meat marinated in a delicious red chili sauce (not too spicy) with a hint of pineapple on top, and vertically grilled. Yu-mmy! After the tacos, we walked to our hotel, which represented a real effort. We had to do it barefooted, since we could not stand on our somewhat high heels any longer.

During the four short days that I spent with my two best lifetime friends, honoring a friendship that has overcome time, distance (both of them live in Mexico), and other obstacles that life presented us, our favorite activity of all was to talk. We talked about our school times (from the third grade until high school), our families, our accomplishments, and most importantly, our future plans. It was energizing to realize that the three of us have many dreams and goals set for the future. We also made some sort of plan, or better yet, a pact, to repeat the three friends' retreat in three years, this time going somewhere in the USA, and another one after that in Spain. Knowing ourselves, I have no doubt that we will make it happen.

Cheers to friends, friendship and fond memories!

Silvia Uribe is a freelance writer with a Latino perspective.

Cross-posted at Edhat.com

Fire, Phones, & Fighting

By Silvia Uribe

About the Gap Fire events:

Tiny Blue Radio

This was my first time being semi-close to a wild fire. Other than campfires and the contained ones during Christmas in my fireplace, this element was completely unknown to me. After this disclaimer, I have to admit that the long weekend of the 4th of July felt longer than I had ever expected. Unfortunately, it was not a bit fun. Having a great view of the mountains from my balcony, my family and I were able to sit for endless hours and watch the fire slowly moving down the front of the mountain. It was like a crippling beast, paralyzing us with fear and inching closer, especially at night. In addition, the fact we had no electrical power increased our feeling of powerlessness. Because of this, we developed an unhealthy (I'm sure) relationship with our tiny, battery-powered, blue radio, from which none of us could be apart from for long - fighting furiously at times over its rightful location in the house. I felt so much stress and confusion that I turned the TV on channel 20, when power was available, just to read the rolling text; even though useful, additional verbal updates were annoying to me at the time, for some reason. Warnings and evacuation orders were issued, and on our tiny blue connection to the world we learned that some were resistant to leave their homes. In disbelief I wondered why. Do we value our possessions more than our life?

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As I was sitting at the Camino Real Marketplace last Friday morning, I saw people (many people, I should say) gathering around the Direct Relief International truck to get their fair share of masks to protect themselves and their family (or so they said) from the ash. So far, I have not seen one person wearing those masks in public either in Santa Barbara or in Goleta. I wonder, did they only get those masks as a free souvenir item from the Goleta GAP fire? Or maybe the masks are just too uncomfortable to wear? Either way, it defeats the purpose, don't you think?

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About The New Cell Phone Law:

How it is possible that even though we knew it posed a threat to our safety to talk, text or IM on our cell phones while driving, it was not until it would cost us money that we decided to stop doing it? I wonder again, does it mean that we pay more attention to our pocket than to our safety? Do we have our priorities reversed?

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About Our Acceptance of Violence in our Society:

On Saturday night I had the not too lucky opportunity, for the first time, to watch the UFC (Ultimate Fighting Championship) at a downtown bar in Santa Barbara. I had only heard about these fights before. These two young fighters were confined and ready to fight in what seemed to me to be a cage. There was another person in the cage dressed as a referee, except this person seemed to be just an interesting accessory to the show. He enforced no rules, whatsoever. The bar patrons were paying little attention to the TV screen. The fight started and I saw all sorts of kicks on the head, torso, and legs. At times they were in what I call a "nut" position, where it was hard to determine, which part belonged to which person. I started feeling very nervous. Purposely, I focused my attention on another TV that was showing images of Dubai, which were way more inviting than the fight. At some point, and in the middle of the blaring music, the verbal exclamations of my bar peers made me turn my head and I saw their facial expression. Some had a horrified look, others were half covering their eyes, and others were screaming all sorts of things. I turned back to the fight cage screen and what I saw was unbelievable. Blood everywhere! On the fighters, covering their face and body, on the ground, on their clothes, and even drops of blood flying through the air with each blow. I had to turn my head again in horror and disbelief. It was the most savage thing I have ever seen, but believe it or not, it is legal, and people pay big bucks for a seat to see it live, or to watch it on TV through pay per view.

I thought that the Roman Circus spectacle was over and done with centuries ago, and we had become a little more civilized. People go around pleading for animals' rights; dog fighting is illegal in our country. I wonder, what about people fighting to death? No one stopped the fight until one of the fighters was presumably unconscious! What if he was dead? Does the fact that we want to assume those fighters are "capable adults" make it right? Really?

Silvia Uribe is a freelance writer with a Latino perspective.

Cross-posted at Edhat.com

No More, No Less!

By Silvia Uribe

My husband likes to add one year to my age (whichever it may be) whenever asked. Interestingly enough, he doesn't do the same for himself. How tremendously annoying is that? And no, it is not that I'm interested in taking a couple of years off, but why would I want to add more? Especially, if it is true that time is subjective, as philosophers assert, and it is in reality only a measurement that humans have agreed upon for practical reasons. I declare that I have not made any agreements on this as of yet!

Time, to me, has always been a difficult concept to grasp. The fact that it accumulates on people's body and psyche intrigues me. The notion that we are considered of age twice, depending on what we are talking about is mind-boggling. We are not allowed to drink until we're 21, but we are considered mature enough to vote at 18? Talk about posing an untimely double standard! I wondered about this when I was young, but I was too busy learning life to stop for long and ponder the issue. The question of how it is possible for a human being to go from such a cute baby form and size to that of an adult has puzzled me forever, especially when my children were babies. And then, how time passes, and how things pass in relation to time? Fascinating! What was crucial yesterday has no relevance today. Go figure! Understanding time must be a virtue that only a few posses, and I'm not one of them. Knowing when to get attached or when to detach from someone or something, taking time as a thought process aide, or understanding how time helps to heal our wounds … these things get in the realm of the impossible for me.

However, now that I'm older, I think I understand time better as it relates to age; to my own, that is. Other's age, I still don't understand. Sometimes it seems to me that 13 years old is too young to smoke, to have sex or to decide about their future. Twenty-five years old seems too young to be thinking about plastic surgery and too old to dream about marrying the latest NBA star. And, fifty years old seems too old to wear all sorts of name brands on clothes and accessories as a walking billboard, or to practice gossip as a sport, and too young to not have plans of their own and just wait for their grandchildren to come visit them. See how confused I am?

There's one thing that I'm certain about: I wear my age proudly. I wear it as soldiers wear their war medals. Each year represents a won battle and, believe me, the land mines have exploded very close. The grenades coming from God knows where have made me hide at times, and the missiles directed to my head have not been easy to deviate. The armor that I've used has been perfected as each battle ended. It is much better now but not impenetrable, which keeps me alert at all times. The tools that I've used to detect and fight the enemy (i.e. positioning systems, alarms, night viewing equipment) are quite sophisticated by now. I have researched new and improved weapons to counter the effects of most attacks. The ones I prefer are those that either disarm or completely neutralize the enemy. It takes a great deal of skill to use them, but they are actually my favorite ones.

Have I ever attacked first? You bet! Did I enjoy the victory? Not a bit! Every time I used a deadly weapon first I got badly hurt as well, so I learned that a defensive approach (on an "as needed basis") works much better for me. Now, I have a good collection of medals; most of them for courage, some for achievement, a few for good conduct, and a couple of meritorious ones. Even though the battles can get rough at times I still like to fight the fight and conquer new territories both inside and out. Plus, the alternative is not very promising if you think about it.

Obviously, increasing or reducing my age could either take some of those earned medals away or will give me some that I haven't earned yet (and merit is important to me, if you should know). So honey, no more, and no less…just my age, please.

Silvia Uribe is a freelance writer with a Latino perspective.

Cross-posted at Edhat.com