Happy Birthday Neb

I’ve never had to be my brother’s keeper. I don’t have one, at least not a biological one. Most of my best friends have brothers. I have 36 first cousins and all but five us have a brother. King Solomon knew a thing or two about brothers. In Proverbs 18:24 he wrote, “One who has unreliable friends soon comes to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.”

Since I don’t have a brother, let’s talk about sisters. No one will ever confuse me with Ol’ Solomon but I do know a thing or two about sisters. And one of mine is having a birthday today. Jennifer Anne. The Neb. Nebbie. Nebulon. Nebulous. She’s always had nicknames. Jennoochka as our dad called her. Jeffiner, was mom’s term of endearment. To me she was Jen. Jen became Ben. Then Jen-ben. After a subtle switcheroo, Neb was created (It’s just Ben backwards).

Shortly after her birth my parents decided to develop their inner farmer and we moved from the suburbs to the quiet and lonely countryside 30 miles outside of Detroit. We were the Clampetts in reverse, without the money. We had chickens, rabbits, ducks, and the meanest guinea hens you’ve ever seen. We had a pond that wasn’t made out of cement. Our neighbors were cows. Literally. My nearest school buddy was a 30-minute drive away. So Neb and I grew up playing together. We designed roads and cities in the sand box, went sledding in the winter, and built Lincoln Log forts for my legions of army men.

For someone who hates athletics, she was the perfect sport growing up. We created numerous games to occupy our time, most of which included either tackling her or hitting her with a ball. One such invention was called “Bean the Dude.” I would give her a head start and she would start running around the outside of our house. I would then take off chasing her and once she was in my crosshairs I would fire my Nerf football at her backside as she tried to scurry to safety around the next corner. It was great practice for hitting the downfield receiver in my school-yard football battles with the guys.

Eventually, we grew out of our childhood games and soon thereafter my admiration for her started taking off like our national debt. She deftly toned her knack for comedic timing. She started developing skills in drama, music, and art. By the time she was in high school I saw someone who had more talent in her pinky toe than I did in my whole body. You should see her impersonations. She’s a human juke-box when it comes to song lyrics. She’s the funniest person I know. She could put Conan, Letterman, and Leno to shame. Regis should be calling her to be his replacement.

By the time she was studying at UC Santa Barbara she was no longer the little kid I had to play with but the sister I couldn’t wait to visit. I relished our times to eat out in Isla Vista, walk State Street, or just catch a movie.

Then came the roommate years during which she miraculously didn’t kill me despite my numerous attempts to explain sports to her. With her back in Los Angeles for the last decade I’ve watched her grow from a college grad into a human resources guru. I’ve seen her shun grief like a would-be tackler and go on with her wedding only weeks after our mother’s death. I’ve marveled as she’s become a mom to a pair of beautiful children, raising them while working full-time and taking classes at night. Next month, she’ll begin a new adventure when she starts her nursing program. “Nurse Neb” has a nice ring, no?

I’ll never forget how my dad announced her birth to me. Still in my pajamas, I sat sleepily on the top step in our Grand Rapids home one cold January morning to find him bounding up on all fours to meet me at eye level. “I have good news and bad news,” he said. “The good news is that mom had the baby last night. The bad news is that … it’s a girl.”

At five and half years old, I must have been wishing for a brother. That’s one wish I’m so glad didn’t come true. Even though I am very thankful for my many reliable friends, there is only one Neb who sticks closer than a brother.

Sporsoring Education

The sad economic affairs in California have pounded the Los Angeles public school system like a Mark Wahlberg kidney punch. Class sizes and teacher layoffs are up while support staffing is down. At my school, Taper Avenue Elementary in San Pedro, we once had five office assistants. Now we have two. Our full-time assistant principal splits her time between three schools. Our beloved plant manager and our librarian, a magnificent lady who spent 17 years instilling the joys of reading to students, are both gone.

We hold several fundraisers in order to help our school budget. We had a wrapping paper sale in September and a cookie-dough sale in December. Our hard-working PTO conducts an annual Harvest Festival at Halloween. Usually there’s a candy sale in the spring and last year we had a Fun Run too. Last month we asked parents to drop reams of white copy paper in a bin that sat ironically adjacent to an old shopping cart used to collect food for the homeless. Imagine going to your workplace at Mattel or Honda and being asked to donate office supplies.

The problem with schools in our capitalistic society is that they don’t make any money. But, finally the LAUSD has come up with a fantastic solution: advertising. Last month, the school board ratified a plan to allow corporate sponsorships, albeit not direct advertising, on school campuses. Obviously, ads for alcohol or tobacco products will be prohibited. But, corporations will be allowed to put their names on auditoriums, athletic fields, and computer labs. Estimated revenues could reach $18 million and will be used to save music and sports programs that have recently gone under the knife.

In our culture where every flat surface gets plastered with an ad, schools are primed for a Madison Avenue take over. I don’t have an issue with corporate sponsorship or direct advertising. In fact, let me handle it. If I were the advertizing czar, I’d start by getting rid of the beautiful murals that many elementary schools have. My school has four, but who needs art, right? Instead, how ‘bout some ads for Art Institutes, art supplies, or art museums? Or, I saw a truck today featuring the picturesque rural setting of the Keebler Elves. That would look good on the side of the Kindergarten building.

We have four baseball backstops stationed at each corner of our grassy field. These need to be slapped with banners similar to the ones found at the nearby little league parks and should be for local San Pedro businesses. We also have two handball walls. They are currently painted with the American flag and the huge smiling head of our mascot, the Taper Tiger. The flag and the Tiger are not drawing a dime, so away they go. I suggest maybe a sign for a sporting goods store or even an outdoor equipment manufacturer like Spalding, Rawlings, or Mizuno to take their places. Last spring we had a gigantic map of the United States painted on the playground. But such a map eats up way too much marketing real estate. Cover that baby up with an ad or two. I suggest, AAA. Another option would be for Nystrom, the maker of the large pull-down maps found in my classroom. At least the children can see a logo of where the maps come from, instead of the actual map itself.

Product placement in the cafeteria is a must. School districts are big on promoting healthy eating and banning junk food. Obvious choices for ads are for healthy snacks and drinks. Why not also feature the logos for the area markets and grocery stores? How about promoting TV shows like the “Biggest Loser”? The word “loser” probably isn’t politically correct enough to be used at a school though. Let’s change it to the “Smallest Person Who was Once Bigger.” Since this is Los Angeles, my school district would be remiss to not feature an ad for the Lap Band. There’s only 92 such billboards lining every five mile stretch of freeway here in LA. If children struggle with learning how to eat well, we can teach them that every poor choice comes with corrective surgery too.

The district has said that the classrooms will remain free of ads. They will be too distracting. However, there are creative loop holes. My administrators give announcements regularly over the PA system. Each announcement should be sponsored like in sporting events. Instead of the Toyota Halftime Show or the Verizon call to the bullpen, we can have the Radio Shack “Rainy Day Schedule” announcement or the Ford “There’s a White Pickup Blocking the Trash Dumpsters” announcement.

When you think about it, children are already walking billboards for clothing companies. Gap, Old Navy, and Abercrombie & Fitch have been emblazoned across T-shirts and sweaters for years. I say let’s go back to school uniforms and get the clothiers to pay us to wear their names on the shirts, blouses, and sweaters. I’ll even join in. Get me some polo shirts featuring a few dozen company names like the pro golfers wear and I’m good to go.

This is just the tip of the iceberg. Something has to be done to help the educational budget in California. I think that allowing advertisements on our school campuses is a correct step to take. If something isn’t done, class sizes and teacher layoffs will continue to increase. The pink slips may be unavoidable at this point, but they could also be sponsored to help defray their printing costs. Pinkberry anyone?