“a rebel with a trash bag”
“…donned a hazmat-type protective jumpsuit and gloves, inflated a small boat and rowed out into the [Petaluma’s Lucchesi Park] pond to begin collecting floating debris.
Within a few minutes, she was told by a city employee that she wasn’t allowed in the lake. When Castellon said she wasn’t coming out, the person said she’d call police.
Two officers arrived at Lucchesi about an hour later and left after about 15 minutes, never approaching Castellon. Lt. Tim Lyons said no city laws prevent floating on the algae-filled pond, or even swimming if one wanted to.
After a couple of hours, Castellon, her husband, Albert, and her brother, Walt Bagley, had amassed several large garbage bags filled with all manner of flotsam and jetsam…”
[via the press democrat]
Thank you Castellon family.
Never have I heard such a blatant recount of a politician so out of touch with the common American. His book, entitled “Mount Pleasant” about his one-month teaching stint at an average middle-class public high school in San Jose, is full of exaggerations and misconceptions.
The latest episode of This American Life takes an act to investigate the book’s colorful descriptions and quite effectively establishes solid facts contrary to billionare Mr. Poizner’s published perspective. When confronted about the lies, including city & police statistics as well as quotations from those he worked with at the school, Poizner blindly sticks to his own account. He places blame on unmotivated kids and an imaginative neighborhood full of crime.
The only hopeful moment comes near the end of the TAL act in which Ira interviews the school teacher who oversaw Mr. Poizner’s class. This teacher says that inspite of Poizner’s inaccurate interpretation of the setting, he seemed to genuinely care about the kids future.
Even so, Steve’s unwillingness to concede even the slightest admittance that he may have gotten it wrong, is a frightening reflection of his inability to produce objective judgement. His narcissism is so thick it’s suffocating. He squirms and flakes off in his answers to Ira’s straight – are you sure you got it right – questions.
A person unable to concede mistakes and misuse facts to self-serving ends (to get elected) is not someone we want heading our State.
When I first laid eyes on Frank, he was head down, on his hands and knees in the muddy grass. An adorable hound dog puppy bounded around him. He appeared to be looking for something. Thinking nothing of it, I prepared to jog past but as I approached, he called out to me.
Frank had slipped on the mud when the pup pulled him in an unforeseen direction. He’d fallen and was unable to get up.
Frank and his wife Julie have lived just on the outskirts of Casa Grande High (CGH) for over 40 years. He, his son and his grandson graduated from CGH and his grand daughter is on her way. When he finds out where I went to high school, he asks pointedly, “then what are you doing here?”
I don’t take offense because I understand well the historical rivalry between Petaluma High and Casa Grande. I grew up on the West side, and now I live on the East. One town, two high schools, no doubt a Classic American story. How could I betray my district?! Rather easily in fact, I never gave a shit.
I simply state that I like it here, as I grab hold of Frank’s arms to help him get up. I maintain a somewhat reserved distance as he is a stranger. I lift, hard, only to find he really can’t help and to no avail as he goes back down. He says he weighs 220, oh, no, 210 now, and he’s too heavy for me to lift up. We negotiate that maybe, if he could make it to the fence, he could use it as a hand hold while I lift him. Frank then says, that he has leukemia, “…it’s a blood disease. My fuckin’ arms are dead, there’s no strength left.”