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Leslie Dinaberg’s Articles

Courting Families

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Dubai Mall by Nishat Khan, courtesy Flickr https://www.flickr.com/photos/nishatkhan/12033808253

Dubai Mall by Nishat Khan, courtesy Flickr https://www.flickr.com/photos/nishatkhan/12033808253

Special Events Attract the Family Market

Parents hunting for great places to go hang out with friends, grab a bite, shop a bit, or entertain their kids for a few hours, need look no further than their local shopping center. While malls are usually thought to be family friendly, some centers are pulling out all the stops to foster that image.

“In general, the entire industry recognizes the value of being family friendly,” says Alice Love, Senior Manager, Marketing for Pacific View Mall in Ventura and La Cumbre Plaza in Santa Barbara. But her centers, both owned by the Macerich Company, go the extra mile to court the family market.

For example, La Cumbre Plaza’s weekly Certified Farmers Market — which already drew hundreds of visitors in search of fresh organic produce, flowers and other gourmet goods– recently ran a promotion inviting children to experience the farmers market by offering them a special tour each week.

“They would stop at the different vendors and learn how that particular fruit or vegetable is grown,” says Love.

Upon completing the tour, they were taken into a store that happened to specialize in children’s furniture, where they got to do an art project. They created their own placemat, which was then laminated so they could take it home to use. Each child was also given a token to purchase something from the farmers market.

San Luis Obispo, has taken the farmers market concept a step further, regularly drawing crowds of 10,000 downtown during the summertime, and about half that during the winter. People of all ages flock to the downtown shopping area where the streets are blocked off every Thursday night for barbecued ribs, fresh strawberries, local wines, and of course, kid-friendly entertainment like puppet shows, balloon animals and live music.

Some very lively music, the clanging of budding young percussionists and drummers, can be heard at Ventura’s Pacific View Mall’s “Kids View” gathering. Children and their parents gather at the food court each week for what Love calls, “educational entertainment.”

The playbill varies. “One week it might be entertainment with marionettes, then we may have someone that comes in with musical instruments and all the kids get to play with them, which is quite a racket,” she says.

While programs like “Kids View” cater to the preschool crowd, who need parental supervision, other centers are finding that drop-off educational programs like SCORE!, Sylvan Learning Center, Kumon Math & Reading Center, and California Learning Center offer the perfect opportunity for kids to work their brains while mom gets her shopping done, unencumbered.

Working with nonprofit community groups is also a great way to bring families to a center, and engender goodwill for your business. La Cumbre Plaza recently drew large crowds when it hosted the local Girl Scouts’ Amazing Cookie Kick-Off event. In addition to cookie relays and games, there was a cookie rally where some of Santa Barbara’s top restaurants and chefs showcased creative desserts made with Girl Scout cookies that were then judged by a panel of local celebrities. The winning recipes were showcased at the restaurant, on television, and in the local newspaper, thus supplying loads of free publicity for both the Girl Scouts and the mall.

Signature family events can help create new community traditions, like Pacific View Mall’s annual Lemon Fest, held the weekend after Labor Day. Tying into the center’s heritage as a lemon grove in the 1920s, the festival features live entertainment, a kids play area, arts and crafts booths, and food booths.

“There’s something for everybody in the family to do,” says Love, whose team has been successfully running the Lemon Fest for the past five years.

Also drawing on their agricultural heritage for festival inspiration — and additional retail traffic — are downtown Watsonville, with its Main Street Watsonville Annual Strawberry Festival, and Carpinteria’s annual Avocado Festival.

Finally, there’s nothing like annual holiday events to bring out the kids and their parents. La Cumbre Plaza, Pacific View Mall, Main Street in Huntington Beach, and the Pismo Beach Pier are among the many shopping areas that feature in-store trick or treating. And it would be a challenge to find a mall that doesn’t have a photo-friendly Santa available the day after Thanksgiving.

While family friendly holiday activities abound in December, Pacific View Mall offers something unique, at least in California. The first Saturday in December brings “Holiday Traditions, Ventura Style” to the region, trucking in 30 tons of snow for the annual celebration, which concludes with fireworks, and Santa lighting the community Christmas tree.

It’s wet, it’s messy, and it’s incredibly fun, says one regular attendee.

Sounds a lot like parenting, doesn’t it.

Originally published in California Centers Magazine on June 1, 2006.

Birth of a PTA Goddess

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Courtesy Wikipedia Commons.

Courtesy Wikipedia Commons.

I woke up the other morning and found myself on the PTA Board. Like all of those stories that start with, “you’ll never believe where I woke up,” I used to hear from my college roommates, I’m not quite sure how it happened.

I was daydreaming my way through a nominating committee meeting and the next thing I knew I was saying “sure, great idea” to what I swear was the rather brilliant suggestion that we have an open bar at our next meeting.

I was wrong.

And then there was training involved.

Last weekend was the PTA Leadership Round Up in Buellton. I got to the cafeteria of Oak Valley Elementary School a few minutes early, salivating for coffee, only to find that the first speaker was already cheerfully jabbering away. What kind of homicidal parent group starts early? And on a Saturday morning! Not only had they started early, they put the coffee in the front of the room. I had to stumble by dozens of perky morning people to get to the java, all the while enduring the stares of the keynote speaker, and it wasn’t my fault.

Did I mention she started early? Who does that? And she was really, actually 10 minutes early, in real time, not Santa Barbara time.

Had I not carpooled with a couple of other moms, I might have turned around then and there.

I daydreamed my way through most of the first session. It’s not that a review of various PTA job descriptions isn’t compelling first thing in the morning. I mean, who knew that “ways and means” was a fancy way of saying “fundraising?” I just thought that my time could be used more effectively by doodling out a series of plots for my new mystery series, Murder at the PTA Meeting. Could you really bash someone to death with fundraising wrapping paper?

Little did I know that a whole genre of this type of novel already exists. Murder at the PTA Luncheon, Secret Confessions of the Applewood PTA and my personal favorite, Death of a PTA Goddess, were all conceived during PTA training, I’m told.

I started to understand why when the two head honcho PTA ladies put stuffed fish on their heads (so that’s where Nemo went) and showed us a motivational video of the fishmongers at Pike Place Fish Market in Seattle. Seriously. I learned from this video that I’m supposed to smack the principal with a carp at our next PTA meeting. More and more I’m thinking that my open bar idea was a stroke of genius.

I know that the only two men in the room would agree with me, as I watch them try to pick a door prize from a slew of Mary Kay perfumes and flowered tote bags, FYI guys: join your PTA board, and go to the conventions, even if you don’t have a kid. Fish in a barrel.

The guys also remind me of next fall’s Survivor show. I’m told the producer plans to enlist 12 men, who will be dropped into the suburbs with a van, six kids (each of whom play two sports and take either a musical instrument or dance class), and no access to fast food. They must keep the house clean, correct all homework (receiving at least a “C+” on all papers), complete a science project, cook, and do laundry. Plus they have to shave their legs and wear makeup, which they must apply either while driving or while making six lunches.

The competitions will consist of such things as cleaning up after a sick child at 3:00 a.m.; making an Indian hut model with six toothpicks, a tortilla and a crayon; and attending a PTA meeting and accurately reporting the results.

I would certainly fail at the latter.

But then again, reporting about how nice and normal and less thin and blonde and perky the real PTA moms are than the ones on TV wouldn’t be very entertaining, would it?

As the 37th person in a row introduced herself as someone who “never thought of herself as the PTA type,” I realized I was going to fit right in just fine. Especially once we get the bar installed.

When her mind isn’t wandering to thoughts of murder, Leslie can be found in the carpool lane, putting her makeup on peanut butter sandwiches. Share your PTA adventures by emailing Leslie@LeslieDinaberg.com.

Originally published in Santa Barbara Daily Sound on May 26, 2006.

How About a Hunka Hunka Hotness in the White House?

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west-wingCount me among the many millions of Americans who mourn the loss of The West Wing. How many millions? I don’t know. But apparently not enough to keep this smartest-guy-in-the-room-full-of-dumb-television-shows from being cancelled. Perhaps the ultimate political fantasy–a White House controlled by a president and political staff who always put the best interests of the American people above politics–was just too farfetched when compared with the hard-hitting reality of Fear Factor and America’s Top Model.

I’m going to miss The West Wing’s idealized vision of what the country could be like if our leaders said what they really thought, without filtering their sound bites through a blender of image consultants, polling data and checkbook loyalties. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve shouted at Martin Sheen, “Why can’t you be the real president? So what if you’re a midget!”

And I’ll definitely miss creator Aaron Sorkin‘s razor sharp writing, which took us behind the scenes for a look at how Washington really operates–or would operate if spectacularly witty and deeply principled people ran it. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve shouted at my TV, “Why can’t I write like you do, Aaron? So what if you’re a coke fiend!”

While Aaron’s been in rehab the past few seasons, I have also been working my way through withdrawal from his witty repartee. I almost gave up on the show in 2004 until the new writing staff lured me in with a brilliant bit of casting.

Jimmy Smits. All those m’s in his name spell out mmm, as in yummy. Come to mummy yummy.

I can’t believe they cancelled the show just as Jimmy was sworn in as president. We were robbed! Jimmy Smits would have made an amazing president.

His Hispan-ethnicity makes him a pollster’s dream come true. His character had intelligence, youthful vigor, a sweet, supportive wife and photogenic young children to make him easy to relate to. But that’s not why I was really looking forward to watching him every Sunday night.

Quite simply, Jimmy Smits is hot. And a hunka, hunka hot president could go a long way toward healing what ails us in this country. Just think about it.

Americans are arrogant and insecure; we’re fat and lazy and simple-minded; we yell a lot (not just at our televisions but at each other); we’ve got short attention spans; and we’re violent, promiscuous and hypocritical–and with a few exceptions, we just keep on electing dumb guys who start too many wars and can’t balance the budget.

But we’re not blind.

Therefore, I nominate Jimmy Smits for president. His campaign platform: he’s a hunka, hunka hot kind of guy.

A hunka, hunka hot Jimmy Smits as president would cure political apathy, as women would flock to support his initiatives, and men would eventually get up off the couch to see where all the women went.

A hunka, hunka hot Jimmy Smits as president could single-handedly restore the economy with his “buying American is sexy” campaign. I’m picturing a series of commercials where I viciously tear that cheaply manufactured, “made in China” shirt off his rippled abs, thus exposing the benefits of buying U.S.-manufactured items. Or maybe I tear those cheap buttons off with my teeth, one by one… This may require some further thought to get the creative details just right.

A hunka, hunka hot Jimmy Smits as president would rock on the international relations front. With his legal expertise from “LA Law,” his street cred from “NYPD Blue” and his intergalactic diplomatic experience from Stars Wars, this guy would surely dazzle the UN into doing his bidding.

Do you think I’m too old to be an intern?

Want to join in on the Jimmy Smits for president bandwagon? Email email

Originally published in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound on May 19, 2006.

The ABCs of Parenting

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Courtesy Pixabay.com

Courtesy Pixabay.com

Sure, Passover has just passed over. I’ve got a Matzo Ball hangover to prove it. Yes, the chocolate bunnies are in their spring finest for the first-ever rainy Easter in Santa Barbara. Keep those chocolate umbrellas handy. But with all due respect to those observations, I’ve got another holiday to celebrate. Today, April 14th, is the 178th anniversary of the day that the first edition of Noah Webster’s “American Dictionary of the English Language” was published.

Inn honnor of speling gud, Iv ritten a shoret dixionarie uv mi owne.

A is for ALCOHOL: an essential ingredient to household harmony. It may lead to AMNESIA, which is the condition that allows a man who has watched his wife give birth have sex with her again.

B is for BABY: my husband when he gets a slight cold. B is also for BASKET CASE, if he actually spikes a fever higher than 98.7.

C is for COOK: a mythical household creature that, legend has it, mixes more than two ingredients together to make something called “not-take-out.”

D is for DATE NIGHT: infrequent outings where Mom and Dad try to find something to talk about besides their kids.

E is for EXCUSE ME I FARTED, I’M TERRIBLY EMBARRASSED: a phrase my husband, and now child, says repeatedly, with a huge grin.

F is for FEELINGS: which were discussed three times a day before you got married, and are now part of the date night discussion at least every three years.

G is for GENIUS: your own child, of course.

H is for HOOKER: anyone else’s child.

I is for INTAXICATION: the short-lived euphoria when you realize you are getting a refund from the IRS this year. I is also for IDIOT, when you blow it all shoes

J is for JACKPOT: when your kids are unexpectedly invited to sleepover somewhere else for the night.

K is for KARMA: what you threaten your kids with when, “Santa and Mommy know if you’ve been good for goodness sake” loses its effectiveness.

L is for LIKE: ya know, like, as if, like, m’kay?

M is for MAYBE: which usually means no.

N is for NO: which means no, no matter how many times you ask.

O is for OK: which means you wore me down this time, but next time, “No means no.”

P is for PARK: Before children this was a verb meaning, “to go somewhere and engage in an adult activity, such as necking.” After children, it became a noun, meaning, “to go somewhere and engage in what now passes for adult activity, such as nodding hello to other adults.”

Q is for QUEEN: a figurehead title, referring to mom’s role before the children were born.

R is for ROYAL RELATIVE: mom’s new role now that his highness has arrived.

S is for SHOW OFF: which is any child more talented than your royal heir.

T is for TOWELS: a mysterious cotton floor covering that can apparently only be hung up or folded by the Queen.

U is for UMPTEEN: the number of times Mom must instruct her husband and offspring to do something before it actually gets done.

V is for VALENTINE’S DAY: I have no idea what that means.

W is for WEINER: a hotdog if you’re at all mature, something else entirely if you’re my husband or child.

X is for XOXOXOXO: mom’s lunch box note signoff guaranteed to delight anyone under 7 and horrify a teenager.

Y is for YIPPEE: what mom would jump up and shout if her kid stopped asking “WHY” for at least seven consecutive minutes.

Z is for ZILLION: the number of times mom tells you why, goes to the grocery store, picks up your towels, and counts her blessings every week.

Gut eny werds tow ad? Email email

Originally appeared in in the the Santa Barbara Daily Sound on April 14, 2006.

Who is Serving Whom

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Courtesy Pixabay.com

Courtesy Pixabay.com

A Lesson in Tine Language for Restaurant Professionals

The lights are low and the company is scintillating. You’ve got the perfect second glass of wine glow, and you’re delighting in the fact that you didn’t have to cook the meal in front of you or drive up to an oversized squawk box to order it. You throw back your head to laugh at something your friend has just said about your other friend, when all of a sudden you see it, the busboy’s hairy hand coming to whisk away your plate while your companion is still eating.

Major buzz kill.

Why do they always do that?

Or you’re catting up with your other friend about the first friend, when a waiter swings by to utter the over-used under-thought phrase: “You still working on that?”

Working? Yes. This is my job. It was this or medical school.

Now don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I enjoy looking at the carnage of my meal for hours on end, which is the usual Santa Barbara restaurant service alternative to trying to rush you out of there as quickly as possible, but isn’t it about time these servers learned to speak “Tine Language?”

Once upon a time, etiquette goddess Emily Post had a wonderful idea. Why don’t we invent signals for patrons to alert the wait staff that they are still eating, or conversely, that they’ve finished their meals? That way we can avoid all of the pesky hovering over tables, annoying queries about whether we’re still working on our food, and accidental interruptions of embarrassing conversations about PMS, pap smears and other patrons.

Tine Language for, “I’m still eating, and if you come near my plate I’ll eat your finger,” is placing your knife and fork on opposite sides of the plate, tines down, with the fork and the knife kissing daintily in the center.

To say, “I’m finished, please clear my plate,” in Tine Language, simply place the fork and knife on the plate diagonally, with the tines of the fork pointed to the upper left side of the plate. That’s 11 o’clock, for those of you who like to think visually, or 10 o’clock for those of you who don’t observe daylight savings time.

Very civilized, no?

Tine Language is such a simple system, really. No verb conjugation to worry about, no deciding if plates are masculine or feminine. To help move adoption of this new language along a little faster in our local restaurants, which are renowned for their food but never their service, I decided to add a few “Tines” of my own.

Holding a fork in each hand while flapping my arms at the hostess means, “Hello, paying customer here. I’d like to be seated, whether or not my entire party has arrived.”

If, upon arriving at said table, I place the fork on my head (tines up), this means, “The restaurant’s not even remotely full, so would you kindly not seat me on top of the other patrons?” Chances are good that if I don’t know them, I know — or am somehow related to — the person they’re gossiping about, so let the waiter walk the extra five steps that separate our tables.

And when you see me poking a fork in my left eye, this means my blind date is not going well. I’ll slip you a twenty if you escort me from my table into the kitchen to assist with a runaway lobster. When I poke the fork in my right eye, it just means I’m telling a really bad joke.

If I happen to have kids with me, that’s not the only reason I’ve grabbed the knife and am now making a throat slitting motion. It’s also “Tine Language” for “let the waiter walk an extra 17 steps and put me as far away from other customers as possible.”

And if I take that same knife and slit my wrist with it, even if I don’t draw blood, that means, “check please.” If you bring me a Band-Aid, I might even leave you a tip.

Got any other “Tine Language” tips for Santa Barbara’s renowned service economy? Email us at email

Originally appeared in in the the Santa Barbara Daily Sound on April 7, 2006.

Spinning the Wheels of Sarcasm

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Courtesy Pixabay.com

Courtesy Pixabay.com

Sometimes magic words fly in the face of love and logic.

There’s no doubt that “Abracadabra,” “Alakazam,” and “Thank You” have some mighty mojo behind them, but as far as magic words go, there’s nothing more powerful in our house than “Helicopter.”

Not the winged aircraft with huge spinning blades kind of helicopter, but a different kind of spin. “Helicopter” is our code word for “Oops, I really shouldn’t have said that.”

For example, if my husband’s peacefully watching TV and I suddenly burst out, “You’re a fat, lazy turd,” all I have to do is follow that with a “Helicopter” and all is forgiven. It’s our family version of “the jury is instructed to disregard that last remark.”

Like any good six-year-old lawyer, my son has mastered the “Helicopter.” After the 12th time I tell him to brush his teeth/finish his homework/put out the recycling/tar the roof, he’ll finally look up from his Battleon game and say, “chill, mom.” But one look at my head about to explode and he quickly follows up with the magic word, “Helicopter,” and a perfectly contrite expression. I have no choice but to chill.

Forget the rewind button — which might have been more effective than throwing the pillow when I asked my husband if this tent made me look fat — “Helicopter” does the trick every time.

Yet another meaning of the word “Helicopter” came up at a PTA meeting last week.

According to the Love and Logic Institute, which is the latest parenting craze, there are three types of parents.

First, there’s the obviously-bad, “Drill Sergeant” types, who rule by intimidation, sending their spineless little plebes out into the world with spit-polished shoes and canteens full of insecurity.

Then, there’s the obviously-good Love and Logic parent, who models thoughtfulness and rational behavior, acting as a benevolent, all-knowing “Consultant,” while providing just the right dose of guidance for their child.

Finally, there’s the “Helicopter” parent, who hovers over their children and rescues them from the dangers of the world, thus giving them low self-esteem, messy hair, feeble eardrums, a weak jump shot, and gingivitis.

Huh? Not only have these people sullied my magic H-word by linking it to bad parenting, but now they’re telling me that my basest (s)mothering instincts, my maternal heritage honed by generations of women walking miles to school in the snow, sacrificing their arches so that future generations could run on the soccer fields at Girsh Park, may not be such a good thing after all.

I was outraged. What were these people thinking? Love has nothing to do with logic. If people were really logical they’d stay far away from love.

As I sat there contemplating my exit strategy, my ears perked up when the Love and Logic people launched into a role-playing skit called, believe it or not, the Helicopter Story.

Mother and son are at the grocery store and the kid wants to buy a cheap plastic helicopter that the mother knows will probably break immediately.

Kid: “Mom, I want this helicopter.”

Mom: “Oh, you would like that helicopter, huh?” (Said with empathy, not sarcastically. Who are these people?)

Kid: “Yeah, it’s so cool.”

Mom: “Well, I’m not buying it. It looks like it’s going to break soon. (Then I’ll be able to say, “I told you so.”) What’s your plan?” (The idea is to hand back the problem to the child, not to be sarcastic. Who has that kind of restraint?)

The kid decides to buy the toy with his own money. Of course, it breaks in the car on the way home. Resisting the urge to say, “Well duh, I told you so,” the Love and Logic mom tells the kid she’s sorry the toy broke, but that it was his choice to buy it. Naturally he cries and has a tantrum, at which point the Love and Logic Institute advises (seriously) the mother to “go brain dead and use a one-liner in broken record form” until the child is ready to talk about something else.

Suggested one-liners include: “I love you too much to argue about it.” “Ohhh … this is hard.” And my personal favorite, “That is so sad.”

Since Helicopter had lost some of its luster, I decided “That is so sad” would be my new magic phrase, trying carefully to follow the Love and Logic Institute’s advice to “avoid sarcasm at all costs.”

“But mom, I don’t want a peanut butter sandwich in my lunch again.”

“That is so sad.”

“Honey, your Nordstrom’s card is overdrawn again.”

“That is so sad.”

“Did you hear the Love and Logic Institute burned to the ground?”

“That is sooo sad.”

Helicopter.

Originally appeared in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound

Sweet Dreams

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Profile of Brent Torson, En Gedi Beds

Growing up in Portland, Oregon, Brent Torson spent his boyhood days dreaming of living in California where “the sky was blue and the sun always shined,” and designing “the fanciest cars he could imagine.” Now happily ensconced in sunny Santa Barbara, Torson’s fertile imagination has been transported by another kind of vehicle entirely – a new line of custom-made children’s furniture, En Gedi Beds by Torson Design.

Inspired in part by his three children – five-year-old Jaden, three-year-old Elliana and baby Lissette – Torson’s beds charm both the young and the young-at-heart.

“I’m going for that romantic era, I think that kind of journey, as opposed to doing a shiny spaceship. I’ve in fact talked to many of my wife’s friends, that have said ‘Yeah, I would sleep in that now if it was big enough,'” laughs Torson, the twinkle in his eye leaving no doubt about his own delight in new venture.

“I like wondering what’s something that hasn’t been done yet? So that’s what drives me, or what drove me even as a child was … trying to think of what’s next or what’s right around the bend,” says Torson, whose wife Leanne is also an accomplished artist whose paintings grace the walls of their Riviera cottage.

“Having kids I was just opened up to this new world of wow, there’s all these things that kids need and want and would love to have. And then I was like what would I have liked to have (as a kid) and then it just came about.”

Though his children, who are home schooled by Leanne, offer plenty of input and advice at the drawing board of his home design studio, Torson says, “Really the target market is also the parents. I want the parents to fall in love with these things. They are the ones that are going to buy them. And then they have kind of a timeless, romantic quality about them.”

The Coach Bed, the first in the En Gedi collection, conjures up Cinderella fairytale fantasies with its timeless design that Torson based on old European horse-drawn carriages.

Elliana is definitely a fan, Torson says. But then, what little girl wouldn’t want to fall asleep in such a magical setting to dream of her prince.

For adventures inspired by the high seas (and a lot of input from Jaden), there’s the Privateer Bed, a pirate ship style indoor playhouse, complete with two decks, sails, a crow’s nest, and even working Nerf ball cannons.

Torson’s skills as an architectural model builder (his “bread and butter” business) came into to play as he worked out different motifs for the beds.

“I think (both designs) have old world charm and that’s why I chose these two to begin with,” says Torson. They also reflect his romantic sensibilities, as does his life with Leanne, whom he met in an acting class at Santa Barbara City College in 1998 and married six months later.

While the designs are being marketed as beds that will draw upon the talents of local artists and craftspeople, Torson explains that they are really meant to provide complete living spaces for their young owners. Built-in dressers, bookshelves, toy storage, writing desks, lighting and even guest beds can be incorporated into the designs. Also on the drawing board are several new designs, including an indoor tree house, a Polynesian jungle hut and a super hero hideout. And in addition to the one-of-a-kind furniture pieces, Torson is an accomplished muralist who can literally set the scene for each fantasy adventure.

“The heart behind this business, my heart, is that it would employ local creative people,” says Torson.

Originally published in Santa Barbara Magazine in March, 2006.

Forward Thinking Farm

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Center for Urban Agriculture at Fairview Gardens

Fairview Gardens Story

Fairview Gardens Story

As one of the oldest organic farms in Southern California, Fairview Gardens is often referred to as “the little farm that could,” for its unique diversity of products and as an internationally respected model for small scale urban food production, agricultural land preservation, farm-based education, and the integration of farms and the communities that they serve. The fertile fields — on Fairview Avenue near Cathedral Oaks Road in Goleta — have been chugging along since 1895. But since the farm’s 1997 evolution into the nonprofit Center for Urban Agriculture at Fairview Gardens, lessons in organic farming and sustainable living have been added to the menu.

The produce stand is clearly visible from the street, but a closer look reveals the beginnings of avocados hatching from enormous trees in the “cathedral” orchard and long rows of asparagus poking their heads out of wet soil. Between rows of trees, a variety of squash stand at attention and you can smell the apples blossoming in preparation for the next Farmhouse Cooking Class, where participants will learn canning and preserving, and how to make apple muffins and apple and butternut squash soup.

While most of Goleta’s once fertile fields have been paved over — and indeed the farm is surrounded on all sides by tract homes, shopping malls, and suburban thoroughfares — the Center for Urban Agriculture’s founder/executive director Michael Ableman’s foresight enabled Fairview Gardens to escape that fate. To prevent the land from being turned into housing, he turned the farm into an agricultural conservation easement, and it will remain that way in perpetuity — to continue to delight neighbors with fresh organic fruits and vegetables, and sometimes annoy them with the early morning chicken cacophony and compost cologne.

Ableman chronicled the center’s founding in a book, On Good Land: The Autobiography of an Urban Farm (Chronicle Books, 1998), and Meryl Streep narrated Beyond Organic, a PBS documentary about his work.

While appreciative of the national recognition, much of the center’s efforts are focused on the local community.

About 5,000 school kids come through the farm each year, estimates Administrative Director Matthew Logan. “We just had a Goleta Valley Junior High group come through here and they were amazed that carrots grow in the ground,” he laughs. ” So that’s our main mission in so far as school tours is reconnecting kids with where their food comes from and (the benefits of) farming without chemicals or pesticides.”

The center is open to the public every day for self-guided tours, which highlight the farm’s crops and techniques, and include information on larger agricultural and environmental issues such as biodiversity, soil erosion, and pesticide use.

The use of grey water and compost, growing rows of crops between trees, rotating crops and “disking under” the old crops so that their roots add nutrients to the soil are just a few of the techniques used to maintain the farm in the most environmentally friendly fashion.

Not only is the message getting out to school kids; they’re passing it on to their parents.

“It’s amazing how many of the kids actually bring their parents out here after for at least one visit,” says Logan.

“…We’re growing food, we make enough money to support the farm and be able to pay our employees but we can also put on a number of educational events with the money that we make from the farm. … So our point is … you can farm it wisely so that you can make enough money to sustain yourself. That it can be done.”

Originally published in Santa Barbara Magazine in spring 2006.

Click here to read Giving Back: Fairview Gardens in Santa Barbara Magazine

Direct Relief’s Home Team

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A group of Santa Barbara High School grads is having a positive impact on worldwide healthcare while headquartered in their hometown. No less than four SBHS alumni are part of the 24-person staff at Direct Relief International, the locally based global nonprofit agency that provides essential materials to areas hit by disaster.

Annie Maxwell, a 1997 SBHS graduate, was the first in a wave of Dons. She caught wind of the organization in 2002, when CEO Thomas Tighe was on the cover of Santa Barbara Magazine.

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“My mom, in probably one of her valiant efforts to try to get all of her children close to home, sent it to me at Michigan when I was at school and said, ‘you should work here,'” said Annie, who started as an unpaid intern and is now Chief of Staff.

She’s currently on special assignment in New York, working at the United Nations under former President Bill Clinton, the Special Envoy for Tsunami Recovery.

In a matter of days, “I went from a warehouse in a beach town to a UN high rise with security and dogs sniffing bombs,” said Annie. “I keep waiting for the director to call cut.”

Her longtime friends — Lucy Anderson, Damon Taugher and Brett Williams, all class of 1998 — are also stoked at their good fortune in being able to have a positive impact on relief efforts such as Hurricane Katrina.

The organization’s gotten this great lift from having them here, said Thomas, who praises his young colleagues as hard working, incredibly smart and disarmingly polite.

Plus their affection and respect for each other and for the mission of Direct Relief is contagious.

“It’s great work because the more you do, the more people are directly affected,” said Brett, the warehouse manager, calling from Ecuador, where he detoured from sightseeing to visit potential partners for Direct Relief.

Lucy also took time off from serving as development manager to visit Direct Relief hospitals while vacationing in Nepal. “It was far and away the highlight of my trip, just seeing the difference that one Direct Relief shipment can make was incredible.”

Based on his own vision, Damon is now directing a new program that has provided $12 million in free medicines to clinics throughout California, a new direction for Direct Relief.

“I don’t think anyone when they’re 14 says ‘wow do you think we could be influential in running the largest international aid organization in California in ten years,'” said Annie. “It’s just not something that you usually say over lunch in the quad. … I was more worried about not failing my English quiz and hoping that we’d beat San Marcos.”

How Direct Relief Helps

Hurricanes Katrina and Rita

August 29 and September 24, 2005

At least 37 tons of medical and personal care supplies–soap, toothbrushes, toothpaste, etc.–have been shipped (FedEx did it free of charge) to at least 41 health facilities in the Gulf region. DRI also donated $1.1 million in cash grants to clinics and hospitals there.

India Flood Disaster

July 26, 2005

More than $800,000 of anti-infective and antiparasitic agents, analgesics, rehydration salts and water purification tablets were sent to the Mumbai Public Health Department.

Earthquake/Tsunami in Southeast Asia

December 26, 2004

More than $32 million in cash and supplies–enough to administer full courses of pharmaceutical treatment to at least three million people–were donated to healthcare facilities and nonprofit organizations in the affected countries.

Southern California Wildfires

October 21-November 4, 2003

With a donation from Alcon Laboratories, 6,000 units of eye lubricant were sent to firefighters and public safety officials in San Diego.

To donate, contact Direct Relief International, 27 S. La Patera Lane, Santa Barbara, CA 93117, 805-964-4767, www.directrelief.org.

Originally published in Santa Barbara Magazine in Winter 2006.

Dr. Ayesha Shaikh

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Dr. Ayesha Shaikh

Dr. Ayesha Shaikh

Having practiced obstetrics and gynecology in Santa Barbara for the past 20 years, Dr. Ayesha Shaikh (rhymes with “bake”) has a hard time walking through town without someone recognizing her.

Her daughter Sarah, 20, a student at Middlebury College, says she can’t go anywhere without someone recognizing her mom.

Her husband of 25 years, Mohammed, an engineer who owns Image-X, frequently quips that he’s “the only Indian Muslim who walks six feet behind his wife.”

He might have to widen that perimeter in January, when his wife’s network will expand even further as she takes over as Cottage Hospital’s Chief of Staff.

Her new assignment, to serve as a liaison between the hospital’s administration and its medical team, comes at one of the most exciting and tumultuous times in the facility’s history, as construction gets underway on a $500 million new hospital, which is not expected to be completed until 2013.

As anyone who’s been through a home remodel can testify, living through years of construction can make you feel like taking a hammer to the closest available target, and Dr. Shaikh will be right there to absorb the blows.

“You know how physicians are,” she said. “If they want to be heard they can be heard. … I think I’ll be hearing a lot of, ‘where’s my parking!'”

Soothing frazzled nerves comes naturally for Dr. Shaikh, having delivered thousands of babies over the years (she stopped counting after her first 250). She hasn’t lost a father yet, although there have been a few close calls.

“You know when they start turning funny shades of color, you say, ‘okay, there’s a chair, why don’t you take a seat and sit down. I’ll take care of the baby and the mom,'” laughs Dr. Shaikh, her lilting Indian/British accent having the desired calming effect.

“It’s amazing how these guys can talk and do all this Rambo-style stuff and when it comes to delivery they become like little ducks … They see that little baby and they burst into tears.”

The joy in sharing these moments is one of the reasons why Dr. Shaikh plans to continue delivering babies, despite her new administrative responsibilities at the hospital.

“It’s fulfilling — I don’t want to say you feel great, but you feel nice, especially when things go well and it’s someone who you’ve seen through a lot of difficult times. You just feel so good.”

Originally published in Santa Barbara Magazine in winter 2006.