Lost in Trainslation (take 2)

Sitting on the cold stone bench I held my son and rocked him back and forth humming the “Happy Birthday to you” song. Wide eyed and petrified I carefully observed my surroundings afraid of getting mugged or worse…...

It is ten o’clock at night in Richmond and the only people around are homeless crack heads and me, my six-year-old daughter and three-year-old son. I say that with the utmost respect for our homeless community but I was in a real bad area. A young couple with a baby approaches me and I immediately feel a sense of security. The woman comes and sits down right next to me, so close that she is touching my son. I move Rylan’s leg and I start to shake. She chose this bench not the ten other empty ones; she stares at me with the hungriest, most desperate eyes I have ever seen. I held my two babies and I stared back long and hard to let her know that I was not afraid but more important to let her know that I was not going down easy. I stared until she starting laughing out loud and I watched her push her stroller to another bench.

Rylan was shaking and Ashlyn was wrapped in a “cars” towel that Ry received a few hours ago as a birthday gift. They were shaking because they were wearing shorts and we were in Richmond where it was at best 60 degrees. How did we end up here?

It was a sunny morning in Sacramento. I was excited to head to the Bay Area and escape the heat for the afternoon. It was Rylan’s third birthday and we were going to ride a real train. His love for trains is about as strong as a teenage boy’s love for video games. My present to him was a visit to the Bay Area to have lunch with his grandparents and ride the train of course.

After our visit he was more than ready to get on the train and head back to Sacramento. As we walked up to the tracks there were three different tracks, two which occupied trains. Carrying my laptop, my sons blanket or “wooby” and about ten gift bags I decide to get on the first train to ask if it is the Sacramento train. Before the man I asked could answer the doors closed and this is where my nightmare began. By the time I got myself together I realized we were on a commuter train heading for San Francisco.

San Francisco at 5 o’clock on a Friday! Panic rushed through my body and I could feel my heartbeat pound in my head and pulsate through fingertips.

“Dear God, I know it has been a long time since we talked but I could use some help.” Unfortunately God is not as quick to offer help to those who only speak to him in pure desperation but something happened that night in Richmond as I froze to a stone bench with my children and our ten “carry-ons”.

Since I was not going to leave my fate completely in God’s hands I called a quick acting friend who guided me to a BART train and then to Richmond where our train would pick us up.

After waiting at the Richmond station for two hours we found three people from Sacramento who were all in similar situations. My son told them “Mommy got on the wrong train and I am scared.”

We boarded the Sacramento bound train with help from our new friends, and felt much relief that our nightmare was over.

Although I did want to give him a third birthday to remember, this was not what I had in mind. His love for trains faded in the last month but I am confident that it will return. More important I hope that he knows that his mom can handle anything and will go through desperate measure to assure that he is safe, and once in a while she even talks to God.

Lost in Trainslation

Sitting on the cold stone bench I held my son and rocked him back and forth humming the “Happy Birthday To You” song. Wide eyed and petrified I carefully observed my surroundings afraid of getting mugged or worse. It is ten o’clock at night in Richmond and the only people around are homeless crack heads. I say that with the utmost respect for our homeless community but I was in a real bad area. A young couple with a baby moves towards me and I feel relieved because they have a baby and I immediately feel a sense of security. The woman comes and sits down right next to me. She sits so close she is touching my son. I move Rylan’s leg and I start to shake. She chose this bench not the ten other empty ones; she stares at me with the hungriest, most desperate eyes I have ever seen. I held my two babies and I stared back long and hard to let her know that I was not afraid but more important to let her know that I was not going down easy. I stared until she starting laughing out loud and I watched her push her stroller to another bench. Rylan was shaking and Ashlyn was wrapped in a “Cars themed” towel that Ry received a few hours ago as a birthday gift. They were shaking because they were wearing shorts and we were in Richmond where it was maybe 60 degrees. How did we end up here?


It was a sunny morning in Sacramento. I was excited to head to the Bay Area and escape the heat for the afternoon. It was Rylan’s third birthday and we were going to ride a real train. His love for trains is about as strong as a teenager’s love for video games. My present to him was a ride on a real train and a visit to the Bay Area to have lunch with his grandparents. The day went well and after our visit with the family he was more than ready to get back on the train. As we walked up to the tracks there were three different tracks, two which occupied trains. Carrying my laptop, my sons blanket or “wooby” and about ten gift bags I decide to get on the first train to ask if it is the Sacramento train. I had a three year old hand in my hand but I had so much going on I assumed that my daughter was close behind since she never strayed. Before I could ask the man in the business suit on his laptop if this was the Sacramento train the doors closed and the train was on its way, I panicked because I thought my six year old was on the other side.


It took me maybe ten minutes to get it together again because the fear of what could have happened was too real and staring me in the face. I had so much in my hands I was tempted to tell my kids to wait outside so I could look in and ask if this train was Sacramento bound. By the time I got myself together I realized we were on a commuter train heading for San Francisco.


“Dear god, I know it has been a long time since we talked but I could use some help.” Unfortunately god is not as quick to offer help to those who only speak to him in pure desperation but something happened that night in Richmond as I froze to a stone bench with my children and our ten “carry-ons”. I decided that we needed to leave the underground station and go up to where the trains were departing. Although it was colder I saw no other alternative given the circumstances. Once we reached the top we found three people from Sacramento who were all in similar situations. My son told them “mommy got on the wrong train and I am scared.” Although I did want to give him a third birthday to remember, this was not what I had in mind. His love for trains faded in the last month but I am confident that it will return. More important I hope that he knows that his mom can handle anything and will go through desperate measure to assure that he is safe and that when needed she even talks to god.

The Suburban Hangover......

Living in suburbia can often lead to a sheltered lifestyle, a life that could leave you no option but exposure and loss in solitude. After all it is your next door neighbor that opened the blinds as you pulled in the driveway at two in the morning. They were not concerned about your safety but more important they were wondering what you were doing out at that hour and if someone else was in the car. If they did see as much as a shadow they might suggest he was much taller than your husband and be quick to offer any information to the members of the PTA at your child’s school. After all they were at the local bar until one and don’t remember seeing you there, so where were you?

Since I am not a member of a small community you might wonder how I would know so much about the people who reside in one. Working as a bartender has provided me with more of the suburban culture than I ever cared to know. I enjoy my job and have come to love some of the “regulars” who come in, but there is a certain stigma that is associated with a small town suburban bar. It appears as though everyone knows everything about one another and they are quick to offer any information that you might want, or not want to hear.
“Did you know Toby’s wife left him three day ago?” This is yelled in my direction as Toby sits three seats down looking very glum sipping his vodka tonic. “He has completely lost it!”

I am still unsure if people refuse to listen when they hear their friends screaming to the whole bar about their so called “private” life. From my experience you can hear a man’s brother shout out that his wife has been having an affair but the women will make quiet whispers about her boob job. Either way it is all the same because within five minutes everyone knows about it. Women are more subdued when throwing their friends “under the bus” but definitely more vicious. It could be boredom or it could be competition. I like to think it is a nicely mixed cocktail combining the two.

Women who are forty are now looking twenty and whether they are accepting compliments on their $150 t-shirt or trying to refer you to their doctor for Botox, they are all there supporting one another’s lifestyle no matter how bizarre it might seem to an outsider. They might come in after a three hour workout to enjoy a small salad and a couple cocktails, obviously using more of their daily caloric intake on drinks rather than spoil it on food.

You might hear women talking more about their divorce attorney’s than their children’s school teacher and you might fall victim to their ex-husband asking you out on a date. After all in a small town where everyone goes to the same bar, there is little variety for the single middle aged man ready to jump back in the dating scene.

For me it is a job and I cannot lie, the "regulars" do pay my bills. But for them it is much more, and although I enjoy my job it has lead me to fear a suburban lifestyle. Is this all that there is to look forward too? Will I someday join a mommies group and meet the moms for happy hour, leaving the tots at home? Is this the lifestyle that we are supposed to strive for or this just a place to cover up our true problems by pointing attention to everyone else’s?

Cut Back or Fight Back?

SACRAMENTO, Calif.,USA- "They say cut backs, we say fight back", was shouted from a group of Sacramento State students and faculty last Wednesday. Students and staff are joining together to fight the continuing fee increase that The California State University Board of Trustees imposed on them for the Fall 2009 semester. This 20% fee increase follows a 10% increase that was issued in May. This burdens students with a fee increase of $978.

Students gathered for the rally and listened to fellow students and faculty voice their opinions about the fee increase. Whether they were eating their lunch or holding a sign expressing their disappointment, they were all supporting one another and standing behind their beliefs in a system that has once again failed them.

Along with frustrated students , stood a group of faculty that were recently burdened with a pay cut and forced to teach students less by taking scheduled furlough days. So if teachers are making less, why are students paying more?

“We are in the midst of a financial meltdown and need to take immediate action in order to preserve our institutions," CSU chancellor Charles Reed said in a news release. "We have developed an overall plan to get us through the next two years that both reduces expenditures and increases revenues. Raising student fees is always a difficult decision, and we recognize the tremendous burden and challenge it places on our students.”

Does Charles Reed really see the burden that is placed on struggling students? I was worried about how my fees were going to be funded before the first fee increase. Now, as a full time student, I have to figure out how I am going to pay an additional $1000. Did I mention that I am a single mother who works four nights a week as a bartender? Why am I being taxed?

Trying to make some sense of the fee increase, I am relieved to know that almost half of the fees are going to fund financial aid. The other half will help offset part of the $584 million budget deficit. I cannot make sense out of why student fees are being used to pay back a system that is constantly letting us down and leaving education as an open target. Frustration also lies in the fact that I am not receiving financial aid but contributing to fund a system that I cannot benefit from.

Although the rally was important for students and staff, I do not feel as though our voices are being heard. We can shout as loud as we want but unfortunately the leaders of the CSU system are refusing to listen. So what do we do now? We cannot refuse to pay our fees because we will be dropped from our classes. So we come together and listen to one another and offer support to each other in hopes that our shouts will eventually be heard.