Staging a fake crash? Make it as shocking as possible, please.

One of the student actors is put through the car's windshield.

I recently watched a group of teenagers act out a fatal crash in front of Ukiah High School, and one of the organizers made tons of fake blood to cover the kids and cars with because she wanted to make the scene look as real as possible.

That was cool.

Because while some might think such displays are too graphic, I think they can never be graphic enough.

When I was in high school, my mother was killed in a car that a 17-year-old boy had driven into the path of a semi-truck. Overnight, the “Hamburger Highway” films we had been giggling at in Driver’s Ed went from silly to unwatchable. But just for me, not for my classmates.

So as I stood next to hundreds of teenagers watching a staged DUI crash last week, many of them laughing as I once did at carnage we knew wasn’t real, I couldn’t help thinking that no amount of fake blood or fellow teenagers writhing in pretend pain could come close to having the impact needed.

Unless you’re in a crash yourself, or you visit an accident scene to find your mother’s shoe on the side of the road, I’m not sure what other visuals could bore the tunnels of pain necessary to keep anyone, let alone teenagers, from making stupid decisions behind the wheel.

Because only six months after seeing the twisted metal that crushed my mother’s legs, I too felt the rush of freedom and power that comes from driving as soon as I got my license. I had it maybe a month before I got pulled over. All it took was two friends in the car and the radio blasting for me to start acting stupid.

But as futile as most attempts to make teenagers grasp the dangers of driving will be, I fully support all of them. Just please make them as shocking and painful as possible, because only those will have a real chance of making a difference.

Such as one aspect of the events staged at Ukiah High School I think might have the necessary impact. It won’t be the wounds oozing food coloring or the boy sprawled on the hood after crashing through the windshield. It won’t even be the boy who gets handcuffed by a California Highway Patrol officer because he was drunk while crashing into another carload of teens, killing two of them.

No, it will be the letters shared between some children and their parents after their deaths.

Twenty-four Ukiah High kids will have “died” after the fake crash when the Grim Reaper pulls them out of their classrooms and their lives for 24 hours. They will make their own tombstones and exchange good-bye letters with their parents.

And those letters might actually make a difference. If their parents can make them understand what a hole they will leave behind, how the adults will grieve for the years they expected to watch their children grow into adults themselves, that might be heartbreaking enough to make some of those children take the responsibility of driving a little more seriously.

And then if they look at all of the other faces in their car and imagine those children’s parents waiting for them to come home as well, maybe they’ll take it even more seriously.

So I say bring on the fake horror. If it saves just one person from the real horror of a fatal crash, it will be worth it.

Got something you don’t want anymore? Bet a Trading Time listener will take it.

When our microwave died, I put in the garage and figured it would sit there about a year before I dragged it to the dump. But less than two weeks later, I heard a man on a local radio show who wanted it.

That was cool.

Jay, left, and Alice hosting Trading Time with me listening in.

The show is called Trading Time, a Mendocino County original that airs on KZYX&Z every Saturday morning at 11 a.m. When I first moved to Ukiah several years ago, I wondered why anyone would ever willingly listen to it. Now I never miss it. 

Which is why two Saturdays after the little motor that rotated the glass plate inside our microwave died a fiery death, I heard a man announcing that he was looking for microwaves, working or not, because he wanted to use their parts.

So I called him. “How much do you want for it?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “You’re saving me from taking it to the dump. You can have it.”

My husband didn’t want me to call microwave man. He didn’t think it was possible that some stranger would come to our house, pick up the microwave, and then both would disappear from our lives forever.

But I had listened to Trading Time enough to get a feel for the type of people who called in. And I had a feeling that this man would do what he said.

And he did. I gave him our address and told him I’d leave the microwave in the front yard when I went to work. When I came home that day, the microwave was gone. And I never heard from microwave man again.

So, got something you don’t want anymore? Call Trading Time. I’ll bet someone who listens does.

Read more about how the show started and some of its former hosts in this Ukiah Daily Journal story: “The weird, wonderful world of Trading Time.”

Tweet

Blue Jay: a funny, touching movie about how sad it can be to grow up

 

Watched a movie recently that I’ve been thinking about even more than Manchester by the Sea and Moonlight, even though I thoroughly enjoyed both of those films as well.

It’s called Blue Jay and was written by Mark Duplass, who stars in it with Sarah Paulson.

The plot is spare, and there’s really only two characters: a man and woman who dated as teens, then moved away from their hometown to live separate lives.

The movie begins 20 years later when they run into each other at the grocery store while each has come home for a bit. They’re very awkward at first, but then they begin opening up and remembering how much fun they had together. 

I really enjoyed just watching them interacting and waiting to find out why they ever broke up, which the movie takes its time in revealing.

A warning: the movie could serve as a heartbreaking reminder of how deeply sad it can be to become an adult. But it’s an admirable piece of work and a fun time, especially if you like both actors and you were in high school in the early 1990s.

Need another plus? You can stream it on Netflix!

Miss Mendocino contestants deserved more time on stage in their own event.

Four young ladies competed for the title of Miss Mendocino 2017 Saturday night in Ukiah, where they sang, danced and shared their thoughts on current events.

That was cool.

Unfortunately, after watching all two-plus hours of the pageant, I knew little more about the contestants than what was written in the program.

That’s because so much of the ceremony was devoted to the “celebrity guests,” one of whom had no ties to Mendocino County. In fact, the professional opera singer admitted she was visiting the area for the first time to attend the pageant held Feb. 4 at Ukiah High School.

No matter your opinion on what assets are being celebrated, the purpose of local pageants is to celebrate the attributes of local residents. And since there were only four contestants this year, the organizers had the perfect opportunity to give each young lady more time in the spotlight.

Instead, they seemed to focus on the visitors rather than the home team. I didn’t keep track with a stopwatch, but I’d bet each celebrity guest was given at least twice as much stage time as each contestant.

Chris Pugh - Ukiah Daily Journal

For example: instead of giving the professional opera singer, who spends her daily life on stage, at least twice as much time to sing than any of the contestants were given, I think each contestant should have been given more time to showcase her talent. And instead of shuffling the local girls off the stage as soon as they finished performing to give more time for “visitations” with the celebrities, why not ask each girl why she chose the skill she wanted to share, and perhaps let her explain how hard she worked to perfect it?

And when I consider how much money each of the girls’ families spent on multiple outfits, especially an evening gown, I can’t help but think that a few more minutes could have been spared to give each girl more time to wear those outfits with her family watching, providing the “Cinderella Moment” that was the theme of the event.

And while one family member is invited to escort each lady in her evening gown, there was also plenty of time to ask that family member what makes them the most proud of the contestant, and why they feel she should be representing Mendocino County.  

Again, in stark contrast to the life of the opera singer and the other celebrity guest, this might have been the last time some of the contestants get an opportunity to stand on stage at all, let alone with their families and their town cheering them on. Why not give them as much time up there as possible?

I mean, that’s the whole point of a local pageant. Right?

Dog owners chip in to improve Ukiah dog park

While their dogs ran around, some owners cleaned up their play area.

At the dog park in Ukiah, one of its regular users started an impromptu work party Saturday morning.

That was cool.

The recent onslaught of rains had turned the lower part of the park into a swamp, caking dogs and owners in mud on their way in and out.

So the user spent his Saturday bringing a wheelbarrow and shovels to the park, then set about moving wood chips to the mucky entrance to create a drier platform.

When other dog owners saw what he was doing, a few of them chipped in to help, turning one man’s idea into a community effort. 

Their actions reminded me of my favorite line in Barack Obama’s farewell address: “If something needs fixing, then lace up your shoes and do some organizing.”

Anyone need some free, non-toxic rodent control?

Early this summer, some bastard was eating the cherry tomatoes in my garden.

That was so NOT cool.

One of the main reasons I plant a garden is so I can stand out there and eat sweet, warm Sun Gold tomatoes right off the vine. But just as they were getting ripe this year, they were disappearing.

All evidence pointed to a rodent, one that laughed at all of my attempts to stop it. I had just about given up any hope of enjoying those tomatoes myself when the dog stepped in.

That was cool.

One evening at dusk I walked into my garden and saw a grey shape hiding on one of my pots. Realizing it was my rodent thief, I called my dog over and pointed at the shape just before it took off.

The dog chased the thief into the bushes, and about 90 seconds later, she came prancing out of the bushes with the thief in her mouth.

I have never been happy to see one of my animals kill something, but I was thrilled to see that thief dead. And the dog was thrilled to see me so happy with her.

She knew she had done something awesome. It was a great day for both of us.

Now every time I go into my garden, the dog won’t leave my side. She stands taut and ready to spring at any sound or movement, waiting for me to point again and say, “Go get ‘em!” 

I need to stock my garden with rodents. Or find someone else with a thief they need to get rid of.

Who wants to go to McDonald's on Thanksgiving? Me.

We had Seaside Beach to ourselves on Thanksgiving.

My favorite Thanksgiving as an adult began when my husband and I woke up with suddenly no one to cook for but ourselves. 
So instead of spending the day in the kitchen, we decided to drive the dog to the beach. And stopped for Egg McMuffins on the way.

That was cool.

I didn’t always feel it would be cool to be in a McDonald's on Thanksgiving. I wasn't ready to wave the white flag of, "I'm an orphan. I've got nowhere else to go."
So after my immediate family dissolved when I was 15, I spent many years hovering around other people's holiday tables, hoping to be invited to sit. And though I usually felt like a stray cat let inside for just that day, any family table was better than none.

Then when my husband and I created our own family table, we began hosting friends and family there, and I loved offering a place for anyone I knew needed it. So at first I felt adrift again when we found ourselves without any guests to host, or any gathering to attend on Thanksgiving.

But soon, I felt the freedom in not being tethered to a family table. The freedom to eat whatever I want, with whomever I want. Even the freedom to decide I'd rather go to McDonald's instead. So I was certainly grateful to find the Ukiah location open that Thanksgiving, as were a lot of other people:

Like the man drinking coffee and charging his computer. Maybe he was on the road and very happy to find a place open on a holiday, like my sister and I were the New Year’s Day we spent in a small town in New Mexico. At first we had fun, standing in the hotel parking lot at midnight and setting off sparklers, something that had been illegal in California since we were kids. But the next morning we realized we had no food, and with no grocery stores open we worried we might have nothing to eat all day. Until we saw the lights and life at McDonald’s. The restaurant was a refuge for me that day, and many times since.

Like the couple sitting with their young kids, smiling over plates of eggs and pancakes and sausages. Maybe they were also on the road, or maybe the father treats the family to McDonald’s on holidays to give his wife a break from cooking everything. My favorite Thanksgiving meal as a kid was the year my parents took my sister and me to a restaurant. Not only was the food much better than what we had at home, my mother was relaxed and smiling because she hadn't cooked all day.

Like the teenage girl eating with a woman, perhaps her mother. Maybe the girl was like me at that age, left with one ill-equipped parent who hated American holidays and decided that with his wife gone, he could finally stop celebrating them. Maybe that girl was perfectly happy eating chicken McNuggets on Thanksgiving because she didn't have to buy all the ingredients and cook them herself.

Now, I certainly recognize that any McDonald’s likely only opens on holidays to make more money, and I also recognize that any business open on Thanksgiving will likely be forcing some employees to work. But I’ve worked plenty of holidays without resentment. In fact, another of my favorite Thanksgiving meals was with my co-workers while we put out a newspaper, because it had better food and more grateful smiles than most family tables I’ve eaten at. And even if all employees working on Thanksgiving aren’t treated to a good meal, I still choose to believe that most of them are grateful to have a job.

For those who prefer their family’s table and never want to go to McDonald’s on Thanksgiving, I hope they never have to. But those of us who are no longer part of a family gathering -- either by choice, circumstance, or a little of both -- might really like having the option of finding food and community elsewhere.

Like the man in line ahead of me at the Harvest Market in Fort Bragg on Thanksgiving who reminded me of my father. Not only because of what he was buying -- a six-pack of beer, a bottle of booze, a tin of sardines and a jar of olives -- but because he chatted with the checker as if that were his main social interaction for the day.

And like my husband and me, who could still eat delicious turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy the day we went to the beach because of the cooks at Harvest Market. And I remember smiling as we ate our holiday meal in the car with to-go containers balanced on our laps and the dog behind us, anxiously waiting for a taste of turkey. Smiling because I wasn't at a family table, but I felt more at home than ever before.

As for this year, we are hosting again, so I will be in the kitchen hoping the gluten-free changes to my galette recipe aren't a disaster. But I will still be smiling, because while it feels good to know I no longer need to sit at a family table to enjoy Thanksgiving, it feels even better to offer a seat at our table to others.