Wow, what's going on with Kate? One day she's fine and the next day it's a tantrum an hour.

Some people would say that's what little girls do.

I say bullshit.

She's 6 1/2. She's sensitive like her father. I have to teach her how to be a warrior.

The only person who knows how to really hurt you is you.

Don't believe anyone. Don't believe me. Don't believe yourself.

The truth doesn't need anyone to believe it. It's just the truth, and the truth always wins.

It doesn't matter what anybody thinks. You are beautiful and you are worth loving. Even, especially, by your own self.

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We are born with a shortage of time. We don't spend enough time telling our family members who we are and how we got here. Modesty is for ghosts. We are fabulous. We have the right to believe it. It's always true. I hope that when I leave this drama, there will be people who remember me as fondly as I do Clarence. He was a genuinely nice person who kept to himself most of the time and therefore whose only fault was that he didn't "impose" himself nearly enough. I know that there are also extra-family reasons for my impressions that have nothing to do with me. I'll take those to the grave. Bye Linn, I'll never be the golfer that you were and damn it: I never knew you were a pilot. For that I will be eternally jealous. I'm sorry that we didn't spend time together throwing snowballs in Shaver. It's a loss for all of us in the various clans Linenbach related. As everyone says, I'll never forget the great smile.

The pain of loss is not my pain. It is a familiar pain that we all endure collectively. That is the human condition.

Uncle Linn, thank you for fighting the Germans - I'm sure, most of the time at least, competently. Our family is not German - it is Austrian - although many Austrians behaved horribly during and after the war. We've got our hands full fighting our own facists for the sake of our children. But they have proven to be reckless, excellent liars, and otherwise difficult to defeat. Sort of like greased pigs. We'll get em though because this is our home and damn it — you and grandpa didn't help build a country so some assholes could take it over.

I didn't understand the "Linn" nickname until I saw your obituary a few days ago.

In deep gratitude. Thank you Sir.

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He survived 'The Hump' Clarence Linenbach never lost his pilot's swagger after WWII.

By Jim Steinberg / The Fresno Bee01/31/07 04:41:20

Born: April 23, 1920

Died: Jan. 24

Occupation: co-owner, Linenbach Auto Parts

Clarence Fred "Linn" Linenbach of Fresno loved playing golf at Belmont Country Club, perhaps because the relaxation balanced the hours of peril he had survived flying World War II supplies above the Himalayas.

If Japanese fire didn't bring him down, transport planes flying at their altitude limits might. It was a long shot that pilots flying "The Hump" — China to Burma to India — would make it through their duty unscathed. Mr. Linenbach beat the odds, flying 3,500 hours in the war's Asiatic-Pacific and European theaters.

He survived to become a co-owner of Linenbach Auto Parts stores in the San Joaquin Valley for almost half a century.

Mr. Linenbach died at home Wednesday after years combatting cancer and heart disease. He was 86.

He was born in Sanger and graduated from Sanger High School. He had yearned to fly despite the time that he, his father and grandfather taxied down an open swath, hit a rock and flipped their plane, said daughter Denise Karle.

Mr. Linenbach studied business at Fresno State College, where he heard Army Air Corps recruiters telling rapt students about plans to meet each other at the Bay Bridge in an hour. Mr. Linenbach was hooked.

He signed up in 1942, flying right into World War II.

It usually took coaxing before Mr. Linenbach would recount his war years, said nephew Jim Linenbach. Some tales touched the war's horrors, including pilots and crews his "Uncle Linn" had known and lost. Mr. Linenbach remembered flying through one bad storm, returning and discovering that 42 other planes had not.

Mr. Linenbach remembered how he and his crew were ordered to make a delivery. No map, no coordinates, nothing identifying the drop-off target beyond "somewhere in Africa," he told Karle. She said her father managed to get more precise directions on the way and found the drop site lined by vehicles with their headlights on, near grazing zebras.

Karle said her father retained a pilot's swagger after the war. He took joy from "seat-of-the-pants stuff," including granddaughter Nikki Carter's favorite story of her grandfather's exploits. Mr. Linenbach told her how he once flew a military plane low over the railroad tracks through Sanger on his way to the old Hammer Field in Fresno, buzzing the Sanger water tower on the way.

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4wN0xaq3Umo

We visited the Clair Tappaan Lodge last month and had a great time attempting to cross country snow. The real fun though was had on the sled run.

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Jamocha, above in the foreground (black and white), is in kidney failure. While I was in Las Vegas last week, her health took a bad turn. She's been at the vet since Monday.

Goodbye Jamocha. She always thought of herself as human, and I agree. She challenged me every chance she got. Her love and forgiveness were profound.

It was an honor to be her daddy for 17 years.

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One of the rare mornings when Pam is away...

Kate rolled on the floor and yelled I want my mommy in the bathroom
and pulled 1/4 of the toilet paper on the floor, so I picked her up,
told her a few things (you can't treat people like this because you
don't have a brother or sister to take for granted- you will be
alone), left the house for a while to work outside and in the garage,
during which time she put on her clothes, I came back in, cleaned up
Jamocha's pee puddle on the floor (first time she has done that, this
is very bad news if it continues because of the wood floors), and
packed up the car for school without Kate eating breakfast or even
getting sunscreen or brushing her teeth.

Just another Norman Rockwell morning.

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Raising Kate, as with all children, has certainly had its ups and downs. Once children cross an age threshold however, the child rearing experience at least for US middle class parents becomes a nightmare. It has nothing to do with the child or her parents.

For us, the age barrier is 6. The root cause has more to do with public schools in the US than it does with age. Public education in the US is tragically poor. Far too many parents send their poorly behaved children to what they consider to be free baby sitting. Abhorrent behavior inevitably spreads throughout the classroom thanks mostly to recess time.

The result is that we are taking away almost all the things that Kate loves. She is no longer able to watch television or DVDs. No more computer games. She is not having a birthday party. Kate's disrespect for her parents will simply not be tolerated.

This is a war against the bad parenting examples that surround us. We will either lose Kate to an ugly consumer society or we will die of exhaustion trying to stop it from happening.

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Monterey was gorgeous.

The aquarium was full of visitors today so we weren't able to see a lot, but we all enjoyed it. I like to sit with the sea turtles and the tuna and meditate in the low blue light. Unfortunately, there were a lot of visitors there doing their usual I-can-not-stand-still-and-must-take-pictures thing. I tuned them out for the most part.

We ate in Carmel Valley at the Rio Grill. They feature many vegetarian options: polenta, artichokes, salad, black bean burger, etc., so we eat around the menu haphazardly which is a pain for the staff who were well compensated.

Kate and I ran in the ice-cold ocean for about 20 minutes. She fell face first into the water, she had her clothes on, luckily Pam brought another outfit for her to wear. Kate had the time of her life being enthusiastically and wildly happy.

Overall, it was one of those days to remember for when I'm unable to do things. I'm happy to be getting out.

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Kate attended a ceremony on Monday at her new school, Parkside, which is where Pam works.

The exiting fifth graders all gave a short speech about their years at Parkside. Then each one welcomed an entering student with a gift. What an experience for each child on either side of the exchange. For one child to see himself as he was just a few years ago, and for another to see how she will be: that is quite a dose of perspective.

We all wore Aloha wear.

The ceremony was called "Aloha - Farewell, Hello."

It was quite a nice departure from the typical public education in America. I'm not sure if I can hold up my end of the bargain of being an "involved parent" however.

Sadly, I have zero free time, and as long as I live in the Bay Area that's unlikely to change. My quality of life is running about a 2 out of 10.

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We had one of those mornings with Kate that only parents can relate to.

It's a test of wills. What can we threaten this child with to make her do what's good for her?

Humans don't do things because it's good for them. There are a lot of obese fudgeballs who know they shoudn't eat that. Children do whatever represents the least path of resistance to instant gratification.

We parents hold all the keys (maybe it's a prison, maybe it's a zoo, maybe it's a library). We in America, especially those of us who are really too fortunate compared to the rest of everyone else on the planet, are all too eager to give up those keys because it's easier to give in than to fight.

School doesn't teach children to have a backbone and that's why so many adult Americans can't stand up to the Bush administration. They fear the rich.

The adult can choose to reverse the roles of parent and child but the child can not.

I hold my ground firm with Kate and sometimes I have to be mean. But I always tell her why I do what I do, and that I love who she is. God (or whatever) leased us a complete and complex personality to look after for 18 years. I explain to Kate how hard it is to be an adult in this world, to work for money, and how much more difficult she makes my life, and therefore she is not getting to watch television, and she isn't going to have any siblings either, because she's all I can handle. Not to mention her mother and two cats and a house and neighbors and there will be more as our parents age and how about local politics?

No wonder people look so old after 40.

I'm out of energy, and the sacrifice just isn't worth it. So don't be like me, Kate. Don't get a job and don't have children and don't pretend to care about the stupid white men and their fucked up governments. Travel, do odd jobs, and enjoy the time that I killed myself to give to you, before this planet is uninhabitable. There's no more after it's gone. The only pursuit in this world that's worth the hassle are the few moments of connecting with someone whom you admire. Only the lucky experience this. And those who don't are walking zombies, ready to deny love for others at the drop of a hat.

I know that by telling her these things, she will do the exact opposite and follow my footsteps the same way that I followed my father's. My daughter might be smart, but heritage is smarter.

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I thought Molly would be gone for sure by last Friday, but with the help of our veterinarian, she is doing well. She is under constant medication but is her old happy self who still likes to venture outside, the joy of which she only discovered a few months ago.

Molly is living on borrowed time: kidney failure and intestinal problems that make it difficult for her food to "feed" her. Let's play: Who wants to starve? I know this cat, and she is smart enough to go to the next level when she wants to. I am merely respecting her choice by being patient and having enough money to pay for her care. It really ain't no fun putting a syringe down a cat's throat, but I do this for my other cat too. The thing we really don't like are the sub Q fluids.

I was destined today to be hit, while driving my crappy Saturn, by a Toyota Camry that ran a stop sign. I amazingly avoided being plowed into other cars. I could see the face on one stationary driver as if she were sitting next to me. I don't know how I avoided hitting her — maybe she had the place of mind to hit the accelerator and get out of the way. I'll never know.

The Camry struck my door and put an impressive hole in it. The door barely opens now. I hit my head on the window and got twisted pretty well, but I felt no pain when it happened. I was in another place far away, holding onto a steering wheel from remote control. This place was safe and quiet. When the car hit me, I only heard a muffled sound as if it were a pillow.

I knew I had no control over what was happening to me, and I also knew that it would be over shortly. After it was over I was back in the car pulling to the side of the road. Time stood still for a few seconds.

We should really live with no fear, because little of what we are experiencing is real.

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