students go hungry
children young adults hungry
hunger’s face changes
students go hungry
children young adults hungry
hunger’s face changes
many lands underwater
On 6 March 2018, Kent Stiles paid Vince Paglia $80K+ for services not provided at this site, for materials not installed at this site. Over the course of this claim, Vince Paglia was paid with 7 checks. I have an itemized statement for only one check, the last one collected over my objections that the document was false. I requested the prior statements, but neither Stiles nor Paglia will provide them, opting to ignore me and my complaints and their blatant fraud.
Avoid Safeco Insurance and Protech Construction. I don’t know who is running this company that owes a fiduciary responsibility to clients, but anyone dealing with these companies should find alternatives as quickly as possible.
Do any of you remember that choreopoem by Ntozake Shange that starts Somebody almost walked off with all of my stuff? If you’re not familiar, go read For Colored Girls who have Considered Suicide/ When the Rainbow is Enuf.
My home of 63 years was stolen from me by Safeco Insurance and Protech Construction. They conspired to tear down my home when the only damage was to my bedroom; cracked open at the seams when a huge tree limb laid down on the roof in high winds. They tore down my workshop, which had no damage. They destroyed all of my pollinator plants; I had grown a honeysuckle blind on my side fence, had roses, rosemary, lavender, night-blooming jasmine, cacti and succulents, also night-blooming. I had a fig tree, a lemon tree, Christ’s Thorn. So much here for human and insect enjoyment, now completely gone.
This house is not a house. It is a poorly constructed structure that doesn’t have a front step that passes the Building Code. I had a front porch; now there is a slab. Rain comes into the front door because there is no longer any cover. I have to get drenched to come into my front door because it is open to the elements now, nothing like I had. I was training the bougainvillea to create an arch across my front; they killed half of the archway. Protech’s builder even stole all of my heavy duty steel fencing, my steel doors, my window bars. I do not have a back door, sufficient windows in my bedroom, no closet and none of the shelving I had was replaced. This structure does not meet Building Code standards, yet Kent Stiles signed and paid off Vince Paglia for destroying my home, and he did not report any of this to Underwriting, as he should.
I had copper piping; it was replaced with PVC. I had a heater in my bathroom ceiling; it was not replaced. I had recessed lighting in my living room; it was replaced with fire sprinklers, something I didn’t have before and for which I have no instruction manuals. I have no idea how to maintain them and Protech did not provide me with any instructions.
The entire time Protech worked on this shack, they lied to me about what I could expect. They didn’t even get plans to rebuild the house even though I repeatedly asked that this be done. I was told not to worry. I was told there would be crawl space access available underneath my dryer. There is not. My attic access was not replaced. The roof is not vented, though the roof of my home was vented. In fact, my home was hand built of hard wood. I know the man who built my home. He gave me my first nickname, Sputnik, because I would circle around him like a satellite whenever he came to do maintenance. Mr. Elmer Lambert was a very tall, broad Jehovah’s Witness. His wife, Ima, always gave me fruit as a treat, never candy. They were both gentle, kind people who taught me to appreciate their religion. JWs are smart and we can thank them for helping develop surgeries where transfusion is not necessary. I like reading their publications and still do to this day because of Mr. and Mrs. Lambert.
I had the cutest built-in cabinets in my kitchen. I could fit all of my “company” dishes, glassware and special cooking tools in that built-in. Needless to say, it no longer exists and most of my cookware is now in the garage, all that isn’t sitting on the side and at the back of this structure. Guess it doesn’t much matter as my stove is still not connected to the gas line because there are no cut-off valves installed. Just a capped pipe. The shelves are too small to hold my klediments, literally. My home measured 800 sq feet. This structure measures about 618 sq feet. Safeco sent an agent to measure the space after I reported to them that my home had been rebuilt and replaced with junk. My property lost value, but the property taxes tripled. My net worth took a hit, too. My home was and is my owned free and clear asset. Now, it is worth less, of poor construction, and I don’t trust it could stand up to a treefall like my 1923 Rambler Custom.
I have to thank Protech president Vince Paglia and his wife and, I believe, owner of the company, Kimm Paglia; his builder, Steve Willsey of Willsey Construction; and, of course, Kent Stiles of Safeco/Liberty Mutual for this destruction. How any of them are still in business, how they still possess licenses is a genuine mystery to me. Insurance companies owe a fiduciary responsibility to their customers. Safeco/Liberty Mutual has failed grossly in meeting their responsibility.
As I have said in the past, if you have Safeco or Liberty Mutual as your insurance provider, find another, fast. If you have a need for a contractor, do not contact Protech. You will regret it for the rest of your life if you use their services.
Yes, someone did walk off with almost all of my stuff. They took the home I lived in since I was 6 months old. They took the home in which I was midwife to my mother’s death. They took the home in which I and my mom raised my son. I had to give away much of my stuff to charity because I could not put it into the structure. The rest stands outside under tarps. It would decide to rain as soon as I have no place to store my things. My greatest loss is my library. Built over a lifetime and composed of a variety of texts, many of the books are in the garage, but I couldn’t open all 800 boxes that came back from storage, so some books were not located until after the rains had done their damage.
My library and my lemon tree…someone must pay for those two things if for nothing else. My mother planted the lemon tree to commemorate my son’s birth. It did not bear fruit until he was 19, in the same year as mom’s death. She did get to see that tree bear fruit and her grandson is a wonderful young man now. Protech cut down my lemon tree, with fruit on it, but left the tree hazard that started this entire fiasco. They are going to pay to have that removed, too.
Too much happening all at once. Plane crashes killing too many Ethiopians and some poor man at the airport around the corner. Gun happy, people hating white supremacist trying to kill the Umma. Too many dead.
An economist with the world on a string commits suicide. What on earth was wrong that you take your very accomplished life at 58? People starving in Yemen. We’re in bed with Saudi Arabia. Orange Slush and White Bread in the Oval. This is a nightmare of elephantine proportions.
I want to say something meaningful, something with malice, snark, sarcasm ’cause I can see that all day. I don’t want to contribute to that. There is too much that is not humane in the air. Every time I see Orange Slush or any of his ilk, I cringe. How is it that they are continuing to destroy the nation and cannot be stopped? The nation has always been divided.
Prime Minister Ardern is a wonder to behold. There is no comparing her to Orange Slush. I want to be a Kiwi. Look at the response to a cultural crisis. Immediate change. If only we had any competent leadership.
sisters brothers babies gone
the Umma is rent
My love affair with formal language acquisition began with my cousin who spoke Japanese as a result of having worked in Japan in the aftermath of the US occupation. He was an entertainer who sang in Japanese, a man of color in occupied Japan. Ever after, I’ve learned to speak, read, and write Japanese, though speaking leaves me when I have no one with whom to converse. I tried going to a Japanese-owned knitting shop and fitting in, practice the language related to another passion, but it was quickly obvious my presence was not wanted at all. That saddened me when I recalled the history of internment endured by Japanese Americans in this country. My honey brown was not welcome among the olives. Still, I love nihongo, the culture, the history of the Japanese people.
I always heard different languages because my mom worked in the garment industry in Downtown Los Angeles. People came from everywhere: Russia, Austria, Hungary, Czechoslovakia (then), Argentina, UK (then). Many eastern European Jews worked in the industry alongside Mexicans, Guatemalans, Japanese. I grew up among the singing of the machines, the steam rising from the presses, the hum of all that industry, but most of all among the songs of many tongues.
Back in the day, it was nothing to hear French, German, Italian, Spanish, Russian in a film, song, radio production. I heard clear pronunciations of languages, learned how to read other languages through cartoons! What a richness were Looney Tunes for spreading cultures. De Ring des Nibelungen by Wagner for cripes’ sake! I digress.
I studied Spanish in junior high! Yeah, I said it. Profesor Castillo taught us to read and write Spanish, but he also conveyed his orgullo in the cultures of many Latinx peoples. I won an award for my facility and was feted at a local Mexican restaurant. Heady times!
Next, German in my first year of high school. I learned to sing in German with Lotte Lenya and the Little Sparrow, Edith Piaf, even though she was French. German is a very emotional language and drew some of the best to demonstrate this strength.
In undergraduate days, I learned Japanese for real. That was so much fun. I was so proud of myself for mastering, at the beginning level, the intricacies of hiragana and katakana. Little works of art to a person who thought she couldn’t draw until an artist taught me how to see.
In my dotage, I have come back to Yiddish. I missed hearing it, missed the rituals associated with it, missed the cultural observations and habits of the people. You know, I know my way around a kosher kitchen. I love the mama loche.