Last year, the city cut out the fourth of July fireworks festival downtown, which was a shame because we’d so enjoyed being able to see it from the top of our office building. But we went to Morgan Hill that year, and this year we stayed home and watched the fireworks show put on informally in our own neighborhood. This year, the city cancelled the Tapestry of Arts festival, which takes place downtown on Labor Day and lets us check out all sorts of groovy arts and crafts. I will miss it, but there’s festivals like that up the Peninsula, too.

Our city unions (like police and firemen) have tentatively agreed to a pay cut; California Sports Center (a private business) is partnering with the city to keep open two public pools; our largest city parks are closed on Mondays; and many of the businesses which supply the city (such as Zap Manufacturing with has graffiti-removal spray) gave the city discounts.

There’s also quieter cost-cutting going on. I had Kelly at a summer camp which gave her two field trips each week, and I saw them morph as the summer went on. The trip to to the Exploratorium become a movie outing; instead of going to the Tech, they had a sports and games day with children at another city camp. It didn’t matter: Kelly had just as great a time with the revised field trips as she would have with the former ones. And getting out with camp friends to go to another park is better than no field trip at all, or for that matter, unpaid counselors or no camp at all.

Understandably, anyone who uses public services is unhappy with cuts, and, yeah, I’m really bummed about the library cuts, because we go there a lot. But there’s really no way to raise all the income needed to cover our costs: raising taxes more isn’t going to help since our taxes are already relatively high and doing so could likely cause the businesses there are out of business, or out of town. But I’ll live with the cuts–I’d rather have my local library open at all, than the whole system shut down to insolvency.

Meanwhile, my state is still waiting for the federal budget fairy, which did fly by with a huge present last year, and very well may do so again this year. But that fairy’s got scary debt itself, and that scares me a lot more than a park having to be closed part time.

For instance, to begin with, we joined because I needed new tires, and Peter was under the impression Costco had the best prices for tires. But when we priced them out, it turned out a full set of tires for my car at Wheelworks was $100 less than at Costco, because Wheelworks had a lesser-known brand of tires, whereas Costco’s best deal was set of Michelin tires with a $70 off coupon.

But we were able to take advantage of our membership for some modest savings. Among the best was a 50-lb bag of bread flour which cost the same as a 25-lb bag of bread flour at Smart & Final. (We make our own bread, and I know we’ll use this up.) I had $12 off coupon to a big tub of chlorine tables, which made them,well, $12 less than the same amount of chlorine tablets at Leslie’s or Home Depot. We decided to spend Peter’s birthday at the Santa Cruz Boardwalk, and since we’re an evenly-numbered family of 4, we could buy the Costco 2-ticket passes and saved $10 over getting 4 online passes. And to my surprise, when our local Enterprise car rental stopped taking 10% off Entertainment Book coupons, they would still take a 4% Costco discount, so we saved about $15 on a rental. The $1 hot dogs are a nice lunch, and if you don’t care about pizza quality too much, but you still want something better than Little Caesar’s, the Costco pizzas are a favorite choice.

It’s important to counter that not everything is a deal. I could buy lamb chops at $7.99/lb, when they’re $9.99/lb at Safeway, but would I have bought those lamb chops at all, if they hadn’t been at Costco?  I recently bought beef tenderloin on sale at Safeway $9.99/lb, and at Costco it was $14.99/lb.–the same as Safeway’s regular price. I needed two avocados for a recipe, and I was tempted to buy a 5-avocado bag which would cost $1.19 per avocado, when I knew Safeway was selling avocados (singly) at $1.25 each. Then Peter leaned over and whispered “moldy avocado” in my ear, and I figured the extra 12 cents to get what I wanted and not risk extra produce rotting on my counter would be better. Afterwards, I found individual avocados at Smart & Final for 75 cents each. I can get two gallons of milk at Costco for $3.18, which will cost me $3.70 at Smart & Final, but when I just need to get some milk, I’d like the fact that I can swing past Smart & Final at 8 am to get it, instead of having to wait until mid-day and then wait in a check out line for 1/2 hour to save 52 cents. I often hear people wax poetic about Costco gas prices, but a glance at Gasbuddy shows me the local Arco stations charge exactly the same, and their gas lines are shorter.

So what’s really the appeal of Costco? They do have some exclusive products which we like and can’t get elsewhere, like their 1/3-lb. sirloin burger, gourmet ravioli, and a box of feta cheese that’s just the right size for a few weeks of Mediterranean salads and dinners. But I’m not sure the products are so appealing they justify paying to join a club. The real appeal is snobbery. If you’re looking for bargains and aren’t committed to a specific brand, the places to go are Wal-Mart, IKEA, thrift stores, and froogle.google. On the other hand, no one brags about the pool table they got at Wal-Mart, even though they will brag about the one they bought at three times that price at Costco.

Costco’s done a good job of branding itself as a value, whereas its lower-priced competitors are perceived as bargains. You pay to buy into value; you don’t buy into a bargain. As for Peter and me, I suspect we’ll save $200-$300 over the course of a year by carefully buying the things we want and can realistically use which are actually cheaper at Costco, and we will enjoy the Costco exclusives which we like, even though they’re not a deal. The amount we save depends on how often we can stomach the long lines, and the glazed eyes of our fellow shoppers loading their carts with more goods than a normal family can consume. I suspect we’ll save more by getting groceries at Wal-mart than the net $150 or so we saved getting selected items at Costco. Plus, at Wal-mart, the lines are shorter, and you don’t have to wait for someone to review your receipt as you leave on the pretense that they’re cross-checking against their registers’ pricing, when we all know it’s to make sure you’re not stealing. We’re not snobs, so we’re only happy about real deals, and, mostly, at Costco, those deals are fairly modest–especially when you consider you had to pay to get them.

One additional note: Costco prescription drug prices are good, even better than online (though still more than the selected prescription drugs Wal-mart sells for $4), and I wouldn’t have known this until I had a membership and asked. However, in California, at least, you don’t need to have a Costco membership in order to use the pharmacy, so you can get those great prices without having to pay $50.

I found myself in a place where the nearest neighbors were 1/2 mile away, but rarely at home, since they were working on their ranches; where all roads had been cut, graded, and gravelled by the few residents there; where water had to be drawn up from the land with a pump, and pipes laid and dug in by each homeowner; and electricity had only recently (as in about 15 years ago) become available, albeit not uniformly. The return on this is a measure of freedom we city people don’t know: keep all the animals you want without running afoul of zoning laws; build your own shooting range in your vast backyard, and bag some wild deer for dinner when you feel like it. No homeowners’ association biddy will take you to court for failing to keep and properly maintain a stick lamp, or putting up an extra shed. I had an illicit thrill just riding in the back of a truck without my seat belt on, a crime which would have cost me $20 in San Jose. In fact, no one in the truck was wearing a seat belt, and they would have thought it odd for me to do so. Take that, nanny state laws! I’m a rebel!

But I also learned the value of public services, especially since my friend is a widow who can’t do all the work wilderness life demands herself. For instance, when her water system failed, she couldn’t call the local water company and have them send in a repairman; it took a helpful neighbor to drive over (on Christmas day, no less) and dig up and replace a pipe that had burst. If she wants the mesquite cleared, she can’t hire a day laborer for few days; she’ll have to depend on a friend with a backhoe and a shovel. It’s tough to get the gravel relaid, and few who will do it on property so far from anything else at a fathomable price. All I did was apply waterproofing to her deck, which is about the wussiest task there could be out there. Like me, my friend has city skills, and I suspect we’d both be happy watching a movie together rather than chasing coyotes away from goats.

In short, she lives a rather  libertarian life, which is the natural state of things. But at a certain population density, taxes do improve your life. For instance, let’s say we have a rural area with 100 successful farmers earning on average $50K a year each from their crops and cattle. There are no services now, but they could pitch in about 10% of their income and collectively have $500K for a teacher, a judge, paved roads, and some stop signs. As they continue, a wisely vested fund can buy more municipal utilities, and better yet, the existence of such services will bring in more working people, each of which add their 10% to the fund. Soon enough, you have a school, a mayor, a council, a police force, firemen, and pensions for the state workers so they have reason to stay in your far-away area. This is all good; it adds to the standard of living; and the collective cost is far more efficient than having it done individually. But it goes awry all too easily.

For one thing, the citizens, now enjoying the basics, see they’re rich enough to expand beyond these basics. It’s painful to see the aged and injured citizens barely scraping by, so let’s be humane and pitch in to make their lives easier. There aren’t enough parks, playgrounds, libraries and community centers, so we can build them, and these, too, are all well and good and will make for a better life. And as the amount of services go up, all need to pay in more and more, bit by bit, which is fine when things are going well, and especially when the public services set off costs the individuals would have to bear themselves otherwise. But when matters have a downturn and that tax rate, perhaps now 25% or 40% or 60% means some of the farmers may lose their land, because they don’t have enough money left to make it on their own, it’s hard to remove all the services you’ve put in place. Digging up the playground could cost just as much as it costs to maintain it, so what do you do, short of abandoning it to the weeds? Do you suddenly stop all disability payments to the poor girl who’s been bravely persevering despite a childhood accident that left her quadriplegic?

And then, there’s the aspect of corruption and human nature. Once you help your own weak and neediest citizens, it’s awfully tempting for those who are suffering and would have nothing in their own town to move over to yours, where they’d be entitled to more. And those who have the power to disburse the tax money may find their own interests worth funding as well, especially when the coffer is full, or you’d only have to raise taxes by a teeny tiny bit (like .25%) to get everything you want.

When this happens, pretty soon you find that those who were paying more taxes than they feel they should for their own community, and for the public services they’d otherwise pay for individually, start shirking one way or another. Some income is undeclared, or the worker moves to another new community where he can still work, receive less in the way of services and be responsible for more of it himself, and pay less in taxes. In history, this has happened before, and it continues to happen now. But there is a balance that can be struck, short of homesteading, albeit it’s one that has to be determined and chosen by a majority of the citizens and by those with control over the funds.

Hauser’s Law noticed that no matter what the tax rates are, federal tax receipts always average out to about 19.5% of GDP. At it’s simplest, when taxes get considerably higher, people evade taxes, to the point of not working or leaving; when they’re lower, more people start earning money. Now, on top of that federal tax rate, you also have to think of state taxes, sales taxes, estate taxes, and more, but it gives you an idea that there is an equilibrium at which you can get the most in the way of public services, and not resort to a simple do-it-yourself livlihood. I wish we could find that percentage, not just for federal taxes, but for other taxes as well. And from there, we could prudently calculate how much we, collectively, can provide in public services, rather than always growing in good times. As it is, my own state is in danger of insolvency because the taxes are too high, as evidence by the people fleeing the state. And while I don’t want to be laying my own water pipes, and rationing the propane tank I need to keep myself warm in winter, I, too, could find myself doing it if the cost of public services becomes too high enough.

Tony Bambino the Internationale (via YouTube)

In perspective, the timing was right: we’ve been going to see him almost every week for over 3 years, from when this desperate mother took the book-loving but not-yet-literate Kelly to Borders to now, when Kelly reads and crafts on her own, and will be in a classroom next year at the times pre-school storytimes usually take place.

In March of 2007, I was at wit’s end. The then-3-year-old Kelly had a full-on book obsession. She couldn’t read herself, so yours truly did the reading, so much so that I can still recite portions of Dr. Seuss books by heart. Peter suggested I get a break by finding someone else would to do the reading, like, say, at a storytime.

And so in short time, I became a connoisseur of the storytimes of Silicon Valley. On Mondays, we went to the Sunnyvale Library; on Tuesdays, we could go to the storytime at Barnes & Noble, followed by a later storytime at the Almaden Branch library. Friday mornings were reserved for Miss Mary at the Cambrian Library.

The best of all was Andrew’s storytime at Borders. I remember the first storytime, when he read Rechenka and sent the children hunting after hidden eggs. Another week, after reading Not A Box, he turned a box into a robot costume.

We were introduced to the icons of contemporary children’s literature, like Fancy Nancy, Junie B. Jones, Charlie and Lola, Pigeon,and Fly Guy. Andrew encouraged the children to recognize colors, count, exercise, appreciate America, celebrate holidays, learn Spanish, meet his English grandmother, and say thank you and please. Kelly made cards for mother’s and father’s day; created paper “bauble” bracelets; sang Jingle Bells; made pumpkin faces and set them on posts; looked for leprechaun “gold”–whatever the story, Andrew had an activity for it, and then a treat from the cafe for a final quiet time to end the day’s adventure.

In the meantime, our life evolved as well. At first, I would take Kelly to the storytime with her riding on the back of my bike; and afterwards, I’d dash out on the same bike to pick up Neil at his school. When Neil finished elementary school, I started homeschooling him and expected Kelly would go to public school kindergarten, but my hopes were dashed by seeing the horrifying classroom. Kelly was heartbroken at being taken out of school, and storytimes like Andrew’s were one of the few things that could make up for it. We made friends with other regular Andrew fans, and invited our friends to come. And we weren’t the only ones doing this–as a result by early 2009, up to 50 young children would show up each week.

But it wasn’t going to go on like that forever, not even then. This year, many of Andrew’s regulars started school, either kindergarten or first grade. Kelly did, too, as a result of a contract I was working full time last fall–but I made sure to opt for a part-time school schedule, so Kelly could continue to see Andrew. But though Kelly doesn’t want to admit it, she’s getting too old for picture book storytime herself. She can read on her own now, and ploughed through all the Junie B. Jones books, Flat Stanley, and Captain Underpants on her own. She makes cards and crafts and pictures all by herself.

Andrew is growing up, too: he has to work on finishing his college degree, which is not, surprisingly, in early childhood education. So the time was right, but he will remain a part of  Kelly’s childhood memories forever.

Today, Kelly sang with her class during the early Good Friday service at the church. I’ve never gone to a Good Friday service, so I took Neil with me. The pastor reviewed five steps in the crucifixion of Christ: condemnation, the walk to Calvary carrying the cross, the crucifixion, death, and burial. At each stage, the lights in the church were dimmed further, until we were sitting in near silence.

One part particularly intrigued me: before we started reviewing the steps, everyone in the church was invited to take a nail and insert it into a cross at the front of the church.  I wasn’t quite sure what to do, but eventually I prompted Neil to take a nail and put it in. But I wondered if the act might be related to the symbolism of Cologne’s Knight:

As I recounted in an earlier post, this knight was created as a fundraiser to support Colognial invalids, as the widows and orphans of Colognials who had died in World War I (the worst war ever, though according to Neil’s history books, the Thirty Years War was pretty dreadful and pointless, too.) At the beginning, it was merely a wooden statue, and citizens would buy the nails, which they could then insert or nail into the knight. Perhaps it is symbolically related to the Lutheran veneration of the cross, since this nailing commemorated those who had sacrificed themselves for their fellow countrymen.

During the first break, we went to the exhibition room, where the artists and puzzlers were taking down their exhibits. I’d admired Jenine Mosley’s clever shapes, made completely out of egg cartons, and told her I was thinking of bringing the idea to Kelly’s home school group as a project. She gave me one of her eggs-o-skeletons to take home as an example I could follow:

Around lunch time, the much-anticipated gift exchange had started, so Neil and I ran up to get in line. For the event, many of the participants bring a gift, such as one they would give to Martin Gardner, for each of the other participants. Neil had made a 9-9-9 puzzle for others, and he was excited to see what he would be getting in return from puzzlers, mathematicians, and magicians. The line took a while to get going, but luckily for Neil, he was in line behind Bram Cohen, who loaned Neil one of his puzzles to work on while they waited:

Neil thinks he had the key to solving one of them, but I’m not so sure, because Cohen said the trick to his puzzles is that they seem to be loose and solvable, especially when they aren’t.

After Neil got his gift exchange bag, we went up to the hotel room so he could play with the gifts, and he was so excited, he didn’t have any lunch. He still wanted to see the talks, and I told him he may not bring his gift bag down to the talks. So in the end, I did find some lunch for him, and I got him to eat it.

All too soon we reached the last lecture, and the puzzlers started to disperse. Dick Esterle invited us (and the rest of our group) to join us at The Varsity, a place with hot dogs and cheeseburgers, perfect for Neil’s kiddie palette, and my desire to keep my own meals on the smaller side. I tried a slaw dog, which was surprisingly good. Esterle solved Neil’s puzzle box in record time, and challenged Neil with another puzzle–to take three straws, set between glasses just far enough so that one straw can’t touch two glasses, and then set those straws up so that you can set a salt shaker on top of them.

Neil or Corey came up with something like this, which is not quite right:

Then Esterle showed Neil the trick. The next day Neil tested Peter with it, and I suspect we’ll see it again. Neil also bought himself another book of optical illusions and puzzles, which he’s been testing us with, but thanks to having learned the puzzlers’ philosophy, I have a better chance of solving them now.

I had barely gotten there when I met a Swiss person who is actually Japanese; and a Japanese person who is actually Irish.

To my knowledge, Neil is (probably) the only child who could both talk intelligently with Stephen Wolfram about cellular automata, and then go off to run and play with Wolfram’s young children. I met Erik Demaine, who started college at 12, and had his Ph.D. and a professorship at MIT at the age of 20. And on the other hand, I was truly shocked to find out (after the event) John Conway was a senior citizen because he neither looked nor acted anywhere near that age. It’s like he was doing a transverse Neil, but for all I know, many of the other mathematicians were doing it, too.

My favorite though had to be the Englishman who was actually Norwegian, who had a girlfriend in Holland, and in Hungary, and in Poland. Logic-puzzle master Ivan Moscovich was standing next to me, and we both mocked him, because that equation doesn’t work logically or linguistically. He tried to make it work by explaining that it was just a part-time girlfriend, and umfriends, and we just laughed. So he changed the subject, but I better warn you all–that dodgy mathematician’s probably already figured out how to make that puzzle work.

Soon enough Neil got to work on what he called a “Hilbert Curve,” a sculpture which eventually ended up looking like this:

Julian came along and called it a “Peano Curve”:

Sigh, he calls in Hilbert, you call it Peano. I know what the childrens’ art docent at the DeYoung Museum would call it: a big squiggle. Discuss amongst yourselves.

I was just looking on when Uri Levy, the inventor of the magnetic Tower of Hanoi came along, and showed me the octagon Vi Hart had just showed him how to make with balloons:

In fact, he had done it so well, that he’d just been certified as an octagonologist, and he announced his intent to bring the art of octagonology to Israel, from whence this wisdom will spread beyond America and into all corners of the world.

Just about then, Max Schneider and Gareth Conway recruited Neil to help them explore what Max called “The Abyss.”

Max saw a cavern and announced they’d all be famous now as the discoverers of a great mine. Then Gareth challenged Neil as to which of them could remember the most digits of Pi. It’s a math geek throw down! It lasted until the boys reached a digit they didn’t agree on. The only out was to go up the hill to ask The Pi Guy to referee, but he’d not only correct them, but show them how many digits of Pi a man can recall.

That could be embarrassing, even among math geeks, so I distracted the boys by approaching the cavern, to their collective horror. I peeked inside and saw what I perceived as a well, and told the boys that was what it was. But y’know, I’d just spent most of the week having my visual perceptions challenged, so for all I know I was really looking a diamond mine, guarded at the bottom by a fierce dragon; or the lost dreams of puzzlers, waiting to be unlocked.

I decided it was wiser to leave that mystery unexplored, so I left the boys to continue their adventure, and went back up the hill, where the geometric balloon making had gotten totally out of control:

I crawled into one of the hyperbolic sculptures to hide out, and joked with the others who’d joined me there that we were “the in crowd.” No, Hans Schepker joked with me, since we are on a sphere, it could very well be that everyone else is “in,” and we were the little exclusionary circle that was “out.”

Alas, it was already getting dark, and all too soon the party ended and we all had to head home. But in the meantime, Neil had met and made a lot of new art and math friends, both his own age and older.

Derek has made Neil promise to be a show with him again, when he’ll be better prepared for this sort of a thing…