The ole adage from many a sage: If it's not broken.. should be tattooed upon the foreheads of the powers that be at The Gap.

This week the crusty company tried to re invent itself. The A-ha moment came when the company finally realized it could only really change the look of khakis from ugly to uglier, then back to original ugly all with the help of a zillion dollar marketing campaign. The brilliant brains behind the brand this week unveiled something that makes the clothing look event more exciting, a new logo.
No surprise, the re design was met with the same enthusiasm one might experience pawing through the sales rack. Sales have flat lined, send in the khaki and white coated ER staff looks like the paddles are needed to resuscitate.
The stock was once a shining star on the NASDAQ. Sad to say my proxy vote faded along with my appetite for shopping at the ever morgue like environ a long time ago. Maybe it was the irritating way the bright shiny pony tailed followed me around re folding sweaters.  Once a great source for jeans, company sales numbers faded and the stock dropped after that last brilliant re-design: Denim the death rattle for Gap. Forgot to mention it's signature white shirts are still available. Too much excitement for you and your wardrobe?

I've got an idea, sell tea. Why you ask? Parent namesake The Great Atlantic & Pacific Tea Company is currently trading at three bucks and change.  Khakis are no longer the draw perhaps selling Tea could be the much needed breath. Otherwise there's always a way to re invent khaki: adult diapers covers, matching oxygen canister covers, wheel chair and Prius seat covers.

It's gotta be better than what's currently on the sale rack.

The World Could Use More

The clock tics toward November 4th. Meg Whitman must do her own dishes now that it's come to light that keeping indentured servants runs afoul to her current campaign strategy. While Ms. Whitman is enjoying her Palmolive moment let's take a moment to contemplate the local template.

In many ways living in a new zip code every few years affords me the opportunity to re tune my internal radar and reassess my own political compass. My true North has come closer to center than I ever imagined possible. I suppose I shall blame that upon the current quagmire of the state of CA but also federally the political malaise runes deep on both sides.

What's a girl to do?

Leaving the his and her Bentley crowd of Los Gatos, landing in the northern hemishere of Labatt's swillin maple leaf flag wavers where long held assumptions faded along with my memories of California sunshine. Toronto has a shiny urbane surface with all it's left wing leaning health care, gun shy non-moose hunters and non deadbolt securing hockey fans. Maybe this change of latitude would offer a shiny new socialist bent but alas the only plus was the fast track lane for the globally elusive swine flu shot. Not really worth the cold northern latitude and lack of sun but one could wear mink, which is always a plus.

Fast forward to my current zip code. Why do my Green Party roots feel rather republican..gasp. How can that be?  A pro-business stance and fiscally conservative pessimism in the current quagmire. Local theater aka the SC city council locally gets a bitch slap from the University Ivory tower crowd if even a whiff of non-compassion is spread around concerning the local homeless and ever growing transient population. The mer whisper surrounding capitalist concerns from locally owned business is met with politically cool contempt.

Maybe the Ivory tower crowd believes that the local sales tax base is simply fairy dust.

While I can't wrap my brain around the entirety of the macro that is my Olympic sport of choice to bemoan, may I offer up a sweet micro morsel of hope and compassion. Yes- two wrapped in a delicious package both savory and sweet.

Free empathy.

Yep- free. As in gratis, no charge. How is this gonna help the world you wonder? It's the little things that count and on a truly micro level the best hope is to be found on a Saturday afternoon at a small table usually set up in front of The Gap on Pacific Ave in downtown Santa Cruz. When I initially walked by and looked at the tiny table, the gentleman focused upon the woman in the chair in front of him. I noticed the tiny artistically printed sign no larger that a Cliff Bar that read Free Empathy.  I needed to turn upon my heels to backtrack and check that I did not mistake the true task of the seated smile. Sure enough. As I walked by again I was offered a seat. Human nature is funny when confronted with something not considered everyday. My first thought as I glanced around- Is Alan Funt hiding inside the Gap store with a camera..not sure if it was a prank or perhaps just uncomfortable thinking on my part. An introduction was followed by a seated deep breath. A calming voice noted how nice it was to see me today and if there was anything he might help with.

Remebering that small film loop of classic Peanuts comic strip. Lucy at the advice booth caddishly awaiting Charlie Brown. Thankfully Bar Lowenberg is as far from a Lucy type character as one could ever find. Sitting on the receiving end of such a gracious and free service felt divine. 
We discussed what brought me to Pac Ave (taking candid pics of people) and how my bike ride led me to park and explore the street on such a balmy Saturday eve.
Sharing with my empathy filled friend just how beautiful it was to find him here. Sparking a hope that this free empathy idea could sweep the globe, benefiting mankind with well intentioned good will. This is the real fairy dust.

The over scheduled, over subscribed crowd that resembles most of us these days could really glean a simple understanding by simply sitting down..

Look for Mr. Lowenburg on Pac Ave next time you find yourself there and do the world a favor, sit down. You won't be sorry.