By Jared Blumenfeld, San Francisco Chronicle

There is nothing more Californian than our ability to swim, surf and fish in clean water. And yet, we have fallen behind Kentucky and Texas when it comes to clean water enforcement. With industry advocates in the federal driver’s seat, we need state leaders to step it up by sending a message that in California, when it comes to clean water, the polluter pays.

Two years ago, I hiked the length of California and waded the Kern, Feather and San Joaquin rivers. At their beginnings, these waters are crystal clear, cold, flowing strong and clean. More than 40 years ago, Congress passed the Clean Water Act to protect these national treasures from pollution.

When California’s rivers leave the mountain snowmelt behind, they embark on a difficult journey. Many are diverted, drained and pumped dry before they reach the Pacific Ocean. Those that keep flowing are often polluted with heavy metals, pesticides, bacteria, plastic bottles and runoff from industrial operations. In fact, the number of California rivers that failed to meet basic water quality standards for swimming, fishing and drinking shot up 170 percent from 2006 to 2010, (the last time our state undertook this legally required biannual task).

Read the whole story

To the community,

The second annual Tahoe Brewfest occurred last weekend in the Heavenly Cal Lodge parking lot. A celebration of all things craft beer and Tahoe, the Brewfest boasted 34 breweries, Parker Bros. Root Beer, kombucha, amazing live music from Ike and Martin, local food vendors and perfect weather.

Over 3,000 people attended the kid-friendly event and with many visitors traveling to Tahoe just for the Brewfest. Some guests came from as far away as Chicago and Whistler, Canada, but plenty of locals also turned out to sample new breweries like Modern Times, Auburn Ale House, Common Cider and Saint Archer.

“This truly is a community event,” said Nicole Marsel, the event organizer. “From the Breweries who are donating their beer, to our local vendors and sponsors.  There is something for everyone and we can’t wait to make the event even bigger and better in 2019.”

The Brewfest could not have happened without one very special lady and one great community supporter.  Deb Brown of Cold Water Brewery is the heart and soul of the Brewfest. It was her idea to bring a Brewfest to Tahoe and she continues to be a major sponsor and influencer of the event. The Heavenly Cal Lodge location was provided through a Vail Epic Promise Grant, which serves to support local not-for-profits and community organizations. 

The Vail Team have been incredible; from granting us the location, to helping with permitting, right through the providing volunteers on the day. We could not have expanded the event without them and are so grateful for the support they give the club and the community.

Profits from the Brewfest will go directly to supporting the Boys and Girls Club and although final figures aren’t in, the club estimates that it raised over $60,000.

However, the fun, and the fudraising, isn’t over yet.Another great community advocate, Luca Genasi at Lake Tahoe Aleworx is hosting a Tahoe Brewfest tap takeover on June 7. So if you missed out on Saturday and want to sample the best of the beers from the Brewfest, head to Aleworx between 3-11pm. Again, proceeds will benefit the Boys and Girls Club.

Jude Wood, executive director Lake Tahoe Boys and Girls Club

To the community,

This letter is in regards to the hot springs on the East Fork of the Carson River in California near the Nevada border. Friends of Hope Valley wants to bring greater public awareness of the situation and needs readers to help apply pressure on the Forest Service to take action.

Friends of Hope Valley (FOHV) is a nonprofit organization whose members share a deep affection for the unspoiled beauty of the Sierra’s eastern slope of Alpine country. Our mission is to preserve the scenic, recreational and historic use of Hope Valley and Alpine County’s eastern Sierra slope.

Since 2007 we have been involved in the East Carson River Strategy Plan produced by the Carson Ranger District, Humboldt-Toiyable National Forest. Some of the proposed actions have been completed. The most impacted area, the hot springs on the river, has been over looked. Various users have abused the area for many years. The area is full of trash, most of the trees have been cut for firewood, new “user created” roads have been established, the place it littered with ammunition casings. Although hundreds of people visit the area each year there are no sanitation facilities.

As the river levels drop OHV’s illegally drive across. YouTube videos depict vehicles floating down the river, crashing though the mud and the causing serious environmental damage. The problems at the hot springs area were discussed during mutli-agency and volunteer group river runs during the last two summers. Recommendations were proposed to clean up the area and protect it from future abuse. So far, none of them have been acted upon. 

It’s up to us to tell the Forest Service to take action now.

Friends of Hope Valley recommends that access roads leading across the river should be barricaded, user- created roads closed, and the hot springs’ natural environment restored. There are no signs in the area; friendly educational signs would be a good place to start. Four years ago FOHV volunteered to help pay for the signs, to this date no sign has been produced.

There is California OHV grant money to begin the planning process, complete restoration and close road; the Forest Service has yet to apply for the grants.

We do understand it’s a very challenging situation for the Forest Service. Roads leading into the area are high clearance 4wd (it takes several hours to drive in) and cross tribal and private lands making law enforcement and maintenance difficult. We would just like to see a few positive steps forward.

Thank you for you time,

Debbi Waldear, Friends of Hope Valley chair

By Susanne Schmidt

The term “midlife crisis” conjures up the image of an affluent, middle-aged man speeding off in a red sports car with a woman half his age. He leaves behind his wife and children; yet he—not they—are in “crisis.” Because most tales and treatises about this near-cliché of midlife crisis center on men, you might be misled to think they have nothing to do with women’s lives.

For example, in his recently published book “Midlife,” the MIT philosopher Kieran Setiya looks at the topic from a philosophical perspective. Declaring gender differences irrelevant, Setiya presents the quest for self-knowledge as an endeavor that concerns primarily men, the author himself (who experienced a crisis at the age of 35) and the great men of philosophy, from John Stuart Mill to Arthur Schopenhauer. When he reads Leo Tolstoy, the moral philosopher is interested in count Vronsky, not the title heroine Anna Karenina.

What has almost entirely dropped out of sight is that the midlife crisis was initially a feminist idea that became popular in the mid-1970s. Back then, “midlife crisis” described how men and women abandoned traditional gender roles: Approaching 40, women re-entered the world of work, while their husbands stepped in to help at home.

But in the years since then, the tale of the midlife crisis has come to focus on men in a way that bolsters gender hierarchies, rather than challenging them. Indeed, the male midlife crisis has been used to limit women’s rights and advancement.

It was the Yale social psychologist Daniel Levinson who presented one of the earliest formulations of the male midlife crisis, which circulated widely in the media and professional psychological community. In 1978, he published “The Seasons of a Man’s Life,” based on a study of 40 men between 35 and 45 years old; mostly white and educated. It depicted the “midlife decade” as a period of change, during which men reinvented themselves. The book’s key case study, “Jim Tracy,” was a vice president and general manager at a Connecticut-based arms manufacturer. After a series of sexual escapades, he divorced his wife and married a younger woman, then left the corporation to open his own business. Levinson held that such a “mid-life transition” or “mid-life crisis” (a term coined by the psychoanalyst Elliott Jaques in the 1950s, but not widely used until 20 years later) was a universal feature of human life, shared across social and cultural differences.

However, Levinson made an exclusion to the concept: He did not study women’s lives, interviewing the 40 men’s wives only to learn about their husbands. Despite this lack of empirical evidence, the psychologist’s description of the male midlife crisis was closely tied to his understanding of women’s roles: At a time when the women’s movement was widely popular in the United States, influencing public opinion as much as social policy and legislation, Levinson opposed the transformations in women’s lives. He used psychological research to bar women from changing their lives.

In “Seasons,” Levinson emphasized the importance of marriage to a man in his 20s and early 30s. He used the term “special woman” to describe the devoted at-home wife and mother who helped a man to become successful, or, in Levinson’s terms, fulfill his “Dream,” a concept borrowed from the British psychoanalyst Donald Winnicott. If the “special woman” had a job at all, it was as an unmarried woman seeking a husband, or in an occupation such as teaching or nursing “where she is appropriately maternal, sub-ordinate and non-competitive with men.”

Levinson stressed the significance of separate spheres—breadwinning father, homemaking mother—to a man’s professional advancement by contrasting the “special” with the “liberated” woman whose involvement in a career produced “bitter discontent and conflict” in a marriage and was in his view against nature: “It is hard enough to form a life structure around one person’s Dream. Building a structure that can contain the Dreams of both partners is a heroic task indeed, and one for which evolution and history have ill prepared us.”

The psychologist highlighted the motherly implications of a perfect wife’s virtues. She was “generally maternal and caring and makes things easier for him.” Drawing, again, on Winnicott’s well-known definition of the “good enough mother,” Levinson compared the “good enough” wife’s relationship to her husband to that of a mother and child. Like a boy’s mother, too, the special woman was a “transitional figure”: “During early adulthood, a man is struggling to outgrow the little boy in himself and to become a more autonomous adult. The special woman can foster his adult aspirations […]. Later, in the Mid-life Transition, he will have to become a more individual person. With further development, he will be more complete in himself and will have less need of the […] special woman.”

A man’s midlife crisis, then, was a justification for abandoning his wife. As relevant as she had been in their 20s and early 30s, for the middle-aged man, his wife was “neither necessary nor desirable.” The professional success the at-home wife had helped to build was no longer the established 40-year-old’s priority; indeed, at middle age, her “special” qualities were considered “overly controlling,” “smothering,” “depriving and humiliating.” And just as for Winnicott, the child did not owe its mother anything—she was “devoted” by nature—so for Levinson, the husband had no obligations toward his wife, while her responsibilities continued nonetheless. The psychologist bemoaned that many wives did not fully “appreciate” their husbands’ “need for a greater measure of autonomy,” and that some even acted as a “destructive witch or selfish bitch using both her strength and her weakness to keep him in line and prevent him from becoming what he truly wants to be.”

Not just a reiteration of gender stereotypes, Levinson’s concept of midlife crisis was anti-feminist. By excluding women from his concept of midlife change, the psychologist banned them from redefining their lives and seeking self-fulfillment outside the home. For Levinson, women’s liberation hindered men from releasing their full potential.

Levinson claimed that a woman’s “growing assertiveness and freedom” in middle age would result in her partner’s “severe decline.” He warned of the moment when a wife “becomes the voice of development and change,” “takes the initiative in reappraising the marriage,” and “seeks to expand her own horizons and start new enterprises outside the home.” Levinson cautioned that “the husband may then become the voice of the status quo. Moreover, a man who feels that his own youthfulness is in jeopardy may be more threatened than pleased. […] He has less authority […] and feels increasingly obsolescent […]. Where this occurs, it is a serious problem for the entire family.” Several years later, Levinson’s follow-up “The Seasons of a Woman’s Life” argued at book-length that in midlife, women discovered that it was impossible for them to find satisfaction in work or professional careers. A woman’s place was in the home.

Levinson’s idea came with scientific credentials and it was quickly picked up in the academy and beyond. The science writer Robert Kanigel expressed the thoughts of many critics when he praised “Seasons” as a profound and life-changing book: “I came away weak with wonder at the drama in every human life.” For Richard Rhodes, the widely published writer and historian, Levinson’s work was not just “authoritative” but indeed “as important and fully as extraordinary, as Kinsey’s [reports on human sexual behavior].”

During the 1980s, as an anti-feminist backlash became widespread in the United States, Levinson’s ideas were frequently reiterated. Psychological and psychiatric experts who published on the topic, often with reference to Levinson’s “Seasons,” were now joined by physicians. In his 1984 book “Crisis Time!,” the prominent surgeon Robert Nolen suggested married women wait for their husbands—two years seemed an appropriate benchmark—and consider the situation: “Can she absolutely not tolerate his relationships with other women? Or can she write it off as ‘men will be men’?” Similarly, the Californian psychiatrist Jim Stanley, who regularly treated middle-aged couples, charged women for holding “unrealistic” expectations of men and advised them to be understanding, patient, and “more accepting” of their husbands’ midlife behavior.

In 1989, Levinson himself capitalized on the continued success of his theory and turned “Seasons” into a documentary. Broadcast on PBS, “Halftime: Five Men at Midlife” chronicled the midlife crises of five male Yale graduates, class of 1963, selected by Levinson, who also interviewed them at length in front of the camera (individually and in a group session). Among them were Hollywood executive Steve Sohmer, complete with fat cigar, Rolls Royce and Rolex, who talked about his experience of going through multiple marriages, love affairs, and jobs, and Mike Redman, a former Olympian, who aired his anger over his wife’s request for a divorce.

By then, the male mid-life crisis was an accepted cultural phrase. Its academic cachet allowed it to parade as a scientific, methodologically rigorous discovery. Even now, many are unaware of the profoundly anti-feminist stance that motivated the idea of men’s midlife crisis. As a defensive reaction against the women’s movement, Levinson’s definition of the midlife crisis drew on the language of personal development to stabilize gender hierarchies and prevent women from changing their lives. Retelling this account of the male midlife crisis today—tuning out Anna Karenina’s story in favor of Vronsky—means nourishing a narrative that has played important political roles.

Susanne Schmidt is a research associate and lecturer in the department of history at Free University Berlin. Her book “Midlife Crisis: The Feminist Origins of a Chauvinist Cliché” will be published with the University of Chicago Press.

To the community,

The students at South Tahoe Middle School have the opportunity to join Club Live, which is an organization that promotes a healthy lifestyle by providing high energy alternative activities. The club features leadership events, community service projects, club meetings and recreational trips. 

For the past four years, Larry Lambdin, the club’s mentor/leader, has had Club Live sponsor a Bread & Broth Adopt A Day of Nourishment and offer three to four of the clubs’ members the opportunity to help those dealing with poverty.

This year, Club Live members Jerry and Tabatha Guebard, Veronica Magana and Ruby Regalado, along with their adult mentors Lambdin and Robert Guebard joined the B&B volunteers at the May 28 Monday meal to welcome and feed the dinner’s guests.

“This was an eye opening opportunity for us,” commented Tabatha and Jerry Guebard. “First we got to see many people in need receive a meal and groceries to take home which was very heartwarming.

“It was very educational and we learned a lot of skills and tips about serving others,” they added.  

B&B would like to commend the Live Club members for their helpfulness in serving our dinner clients and helping with the dinner’s setup and cleanup. Club Live is a wonderful teaching tool for leadership skills and a valuable resource to help children in our community see how their actions impact the lives of others.

Carol Gerard, Bread & Broth

By Alexis Clark

On the summer afternoon in 1944 that 23-year-old Elinor Powell walked into the Woolworth’s lunch counter in downtown Phoenix, it never occurred to her that she would be refused service. She was, after all, an officer in the U.S. Army Nurse Corps, serving her country during wartime, and she had grown up in a predominantly white, upwardly mobile Boston suburb that didn’t subject her family to discrimination. 

But the waiter who turned Elinor away wasn’t moved by her patriotism. All he saw was her brown skin. It probably never occurred to him that the woman in uniform was from a family that served its country, as Elinor’s father had in the First World War, as well as another relative who had been part of the Union Army during the Civil War. The only thing that counted at that moment—and in that place, where Jim Crow laws remained in force—was the waiter’s perception of a black army nurse as not standing on equal footing with his white customers.

Infuriated and humiliated, Elinor left Woolworth’s and returned to POW Camp Florence, in the Arizona desert. She was stationed there to look after German prisoners of war, who had been captured in Europe and Northern Africa and then sent across the Atlantic Ocean, for detainment in the United States during World War II.

Elinor, like many other black nurses in the Army Nurse Corps, was tasked with caring for German POWs—men who represented Hitler’s racist regime of white supremacy. Though their presence is rarely discussed in American history, from 1942 to 1946, there were 371,683 German POWs scattered across the country in more than 600 camps. Some POWs remained until 1948.

And these POWs were kept busy. Prisoners of war, under rules set by the Geneva Convention, could be made to work for the detaining power. And, with millions of American men away serving in the military, there was a significant labor shortage in the United States. Farms, plants, canneries and other industries needed workers.

For black nurses, the assignment to take care of German POWs—to tend to Nazis—was deeply unwelcome. To the African American women who had endured the arduous process of being admitted into the U.S. Army Nurse Corps, this assignment felt like a betrayal. They volunteered to serve to help wounded American soldiers, not the enemy.

Long before World War II, black nurses had been struggling to serve their country. After the United States declared war on Germany in 1917, black nurses tried to enroll in the Red Cross, which was then the procurement agency for the Army Nurse Corps. The Red Cross rejected them because they didn’t have the required membership in the American Nurses Association (ANA), which didn’t allow blacks to join at the time. A few black nurses eventually served in the First World War, but not because they were finally admitted into the Army Nurse Corps. The 1918 flu epidemic wiped out so many thousands of people that a handful of black nurses were called to assist.

More than two decades later, after Hitler invaded Poland, the United States began an aggressive war preparedness program, and the Army Nurse Corps expanded its recruiting process. Wanting to serve their country and receive a steady military income, thousands of black nurses filled out applications to enlist. They received the following letter:

“Your application to the Army Nurse Corps cannot be given favorable consideration as there are no provisions in Army regulations for the appointment of colored nurses in the Corps.”

The rejection letter was a crushing blow, but also an honest appraisal of how the country regarded black nurses: They weren’t valued as American citizens or seen as fit to wear a military uniform.

The National Association of Colored Graduate Nurses, (NACGN)—an organization founded in 1908 for black registered nurses as an alternative to the ANA, which still hadn’t extended its membership to black nurses—challenged the letter. And with political pressure from civil rights groups and the black press, 56 black nurses were finally admitted into the U.S. Army Nurse Corps in 1941. Some went to Fort Livingston in Louisiana and others to Fort Bragg, in North Carolina, both segregated bases.

When Elinor Powell entered the army in 1944, she completed her basic training an hour outside of Tucson, Ariz., at Fort Huachuca, which had become the largest military installation for black soldiers and nurses. The army had a strict quota for black nurses, and only 300 of them served in the entire Army Nurse Corps, which had 40,000 white nurses. It was evident the military didn’t really want black women to serve at all, and they made this clear.

Elinor’s cohort of newly trained Army nurses soon received shocking news: There had been too much fraternization between white nurses and German POWs at Camp Florence. So the Army was bringing in black nurses as replacements.

POW camps would become an ongoing assignment for the majority of African American nurses. The remainder were stationed at segregated bases with black soldiers, who mostly performed maintenance and menial jobs during the war, and understood what it meant to wear a U.S. military uniform and still be treated like a second-class citizen.

Life for a black army nurse at a POW camp could be lonely and isolated. The camps in the South and Southwest, in particular, strictly enforced Jim Crow. The list of complaints from black nurses included being routinely left out of officer meetings and social functions, and being forced to eat in segregated dining halls. The trips to nearby towns were also degrading because of establishments that either relegated blacks to subpar seating and service or barred them from entering altogether.

At the hospitals in the POW camps, black nurses weren’t that fulfilled either. A great many of the prisoners were in good health, which had been a requirement to make the transatlantic journey in the first place, so the black nurses weren’t utilized to full capacity. There were typical bedside nursing duties and occasional appendectomies performed, but rarely were there critical cases.

In some ways, from a social standpoint, the German POWs fared better than the black nurses. Local white residents, U.S. Army guards and officers were friendly toward them—a level of respect that black laborers, soldiers, and nurses did not experience with any regularity.

When German prisoners first arrived in the United States, many were shocked by the racial hierarchy entrenched in American culture. They saw the segregated bathrooms and restricted dining halls at train stations, and during their days-long journeys to their respective POW camps had black train attendants bringing them food and drinks and calling them “sir.” It was clear that in the United States, there was an inherent expectation of subservience to whites, even to those from Hitler’s army.

Once at camp, life for German POWs, for the most part, was comfortable. From the clean accommodations and regular meals, to the congeniality of Americans, some POWs were relieved to have been captured. And the interactions with black nurses were largely civilized.

But there were occasions when black nurses found themselves humiliated by German POWs and not backed up by the U.S. Army.  At Camp Papago Park, outside of Phoenix, a German POW said he hated “niggers” in front of a black nurse. She reported the incident to the commanding officer, expecting a swift reprimand. The nurse later discovered the commanding officer didn’t think any punishment was necessary. She complained about the incident in a letter to the National Association of Colored Graduate Nurses:

“That is the worst insult an army officer should ever have to take. I think it is insult enough to be here taking care of them when we volunteered to come into the army to nurse military personnel…All of this is making us very bitter.”

Meanwhile, even though black nurses were underutilized, there was an urgent need for more nurses to care for the returning American soldiers, wounded in battle. Nevertheless, white nurses were tasked to tend to Americans almost exclusively. Yes, thousands of white nurses also had POW camp assignments—there were very few black women in Army Nurse Corps. But if a black unit could replace a white one at a camp, the swap was made.

As the war entered its final year, the numbers of wounded men rose exponentially. President Franklin Roosevelt made the alarming announcement of legislation to establish a nursing draft in his State of the Union Address on Jan. 6, 1945. Radio announcements said the draft would be instituted unless 18,000 additional nurses volunteered.

At the time of the president’s address, there were 9,000 applications from black nurses hoping to enlist in the Army Nurse Corps. But those nurses didn’t count toward the goal, or dissuade FDR’s announcement—to the dismay of NACGN, the black press and civil rights organizations.

Rep. Adam Clayton Powell Jr., the esteemed minister from Harlem, famously denounced the decision: “It is absolutely unbelievable that in times like these, when the world is going forward, that there are leaders in our American life who are going backward. It is further unbelievable that these leaders have become so blindly and unreasonably un-American that they have forced our wounded men to face the tragedy of death rather than allow trained nurses to aid because these nurses’ skins happen to be of a different color.”

The draft legislation stalled in the Senate and the conscription of nurses never occurred. But with morale among black army nurses reaching record lows, the NACGN approached first lady Eleanor Roosevelt for help, given her commitment to equal rights. And the meeting was a success.

In the final year of the war, black nurses were no longer assigned exclusively to POW camps. After a few months they were transferred to army hospitals for wounded American soldiers.

Elinor remained at POW Camp Florence for the duration of the war, and fell in love with a German prisoner, Frederick Albert. While fellow Americans humiliated her with segregation, a German, of all people, uplifted her. The two shunned the racist policies of Jim Crow and Nazism, seeking solace in a forbidden romance. They would spend their lives together in constant search of a community that accepted them, more than 20 years before laws banning interracial marriage were struck down in the 1967 Loving v. Virginia decision.  

By war’s end, only about 500 black nurses had served in the U.S. Army Nurse Corps during WWII, even though thousands had applied. Despite the discrimination they faced, black army nurses demonstrated a persistent will to be a part of the U.S. Army Nurse Corp and serve their country. Their efforts paid off when President Harry Truman issued an executive order to desegregate the entire military in 1948.

And by 1951, the National Association of Colored Graduate Nurses dissolved into the American Nurses Association, which had extended its membership to all nurses regardless of race.

Alexis Clark is a freelance journalist and author of “Enemies in Love: A German POW, A Black Nurse, and an Unlikely Romance.”

Publisher’s note: The following letter was sent to the El Dorado County Board of Supervisors and to Lake Tahoe News.

Dear Board of Supervisors,

Jim Morris

We are becoming quite concerned that the county is continuing to promote the VHR controversy by scheduling ad hoc and Board of Supervisor meetings regarding future VHR regulations. The city of South Lake Tahoe drug out their VHR meetings for over two years and bragged about all the public gatherings they had. This only provoked the poor results from their actions as evidenced by negative national publicity received. You are already in the process of confirming extensive changes to the VHR ordinance.  Please evaluate the results of your actions before making further changes to the current ordinance.

Sincerely,

Jim Morris, president Lake Tahoe Accommodations

By Chad Hanson and Char Miller, Los Angeles Times

Responding to the tragic losses of homes and lives in wildland fires in California over the past year, Gov. Jerry Brown announced a “major offensive” against fire, in the form of a “Forest Carbon Plan.” The governor proposes to use $254 million of taxpayer money to double logging levels in California’s forests – to “at least” 500,000 acres a year – and to achieve it, he wants to reduce environmental protections.

Although the governor’s May 10 proposal is ostensibly designed to protect human communities from forest fires and to mitigate climate change, it ignores and misrepresents current science. The Forest Carbon Plan will exacerbate climate change while doing little to protect communities from fire.

Read the whole story

By Joe Mathews

Be first if you like. But in California, it’s better to be second best.

This is the larger truth at work in the Golden State’s June 5 elections. Because the top two finishers in each race advance to the November runoff election, almost all campaigning and TV ads are designed to put a particular candidate in second place.

Joe Mathews

This fixation with finishing second isn’t limited to our elections: Californians highly value second place in civics, arts, and technology.

Take Silicon Valley. Our tech industry used to run on the idea of the “first mover advantage”—the belief that whatever startup moved first into a space was likely to win.

But now “first mover advantage” is considered a myth. The evidence suggests that you’d rather be second in pursuing an idea— “a fast follower” in common  phrasing—if you want your technology to succeed in the marketplace.

Ryan Holmes, founder and CEO of Hootsuite, noted on Medium that Microsoft came up with a tablet a decade before the more successful iPad debuted, and that Snapchat pioneered disappearing images and other features, only to see Facebook co-opt its ideas.

“Ultimately … it’s not who’s first to market but who’s best to market,” wrote Holmes. “As a second-mover, you benefit by having a clear, real target in your sights …. First-movers, by contrast, are forced to drive looking in the rear-view mirror.”

Being first is also no guarantee of reputational advantages. Uber, the ride-sharing leader, is widely distrusted, while Lyft, which trailed behind, is often celebrated. Fly-by-night news sites may get information up first, but you can better trust publications that do a better story later. Is it significant that California’s most distinguished newspaper, the L.A. Times, is moving from a first-rate downtown location to a smaller city named El Segundo? Its name, meaning “The Second,” nods to the city’s history as site of Standard Oil’s second big California refinery. (El Primero was in Richmond.)

Being second also makes you less of a target. The paparazzi go a lot easier on second-tier action star Keanu Reeves than on Tom Cruise. And there may be greater cachet in being second banana. Keith Richards is cooler than Mick Jagger. The Second World War is better understood than the first. The Dodgers are California’s most successful baseball franchise, but, with their expensive tickets and TV rights too costly for cable operators to show their games, you’re better off being a fan of the second-tier Angels.

And while people love to hate California’s biggest city, Los Angeles, who doesn’t love to love our state’s second most populous municipality, San Diego? If you believe the marketing, San Diego is “America’s finest city.”

As a whole, California—while maintaining that it’s a global leader—is actually No. 2 in some important measures. We’re the second most diverse state (Hawai’i is tops). A recent study ranked our economy as the second best among American states (behind Washington). On the down side, we’re second among states in number of people per house (behind Utah)—a reflection of our housing shortage.

In many things, being second is worth celebrating. The city of Stockton is happy—after surviving municipal bankruptcy—to be ranked as the second-most fiscally solvent city of the 75 largest cities in America. (Stockton’s budget surplus is now more than $3,000 per resident.) And California, according to consulting firm McKinsey, has the second lowest smoking and prisoner recidivism rates in the country.

Of course, when you’re choosing a candidate for a job or high political office, you want to support the best. But California’s top two system incentivizes people to select their second choice.

For example, say you’re a Democrat who wants your party to win back the U.S. House of Representatives and serve as a check on President Trump.

If Gavin Newsom is your first choice for governor in this month’s election, you might be better off voting for a different Democrat—like Antonio Villaraigosa, even if you don’t like him much—so that he can finish second in the June election. That way, two Democrats would advance to the November election under the top two. That would likely lower the turnout of Republicans in November, and thus make it harder for California’s Republican members of Congress to hold on to their seats in November.

The same holds true for a Republican who prefers the second-leading Republican contender for governor, Travis Allen, over John Cox, who according to polls has the best chance of getting into the top two. Vote for your top preference, and your party is probably less well-off.

Frustrating, yes. But this is how decision-making works in a state devoted to settling for second best.

Joe Mathews writes the Connecting California column for Zócalo Public Square.

By Samantha Thompson

With the passage of the National Trails System Act on June 2, 1968, America received an incredible gift – the creation and protection of extraordinary trails to discover, explore, and connect with nature. With approximately 2,485 miles of national trails throughout the Silver State, the Nevada Department of Conservation and Natural Resources is excited to “wear our hearts on our backpacks” as we join the country in celebrating five decades of the National Trails System.

“In Nevada, our bounty of national trails span every corner of the State, providing vital benefits to our economy/tourism, public health, and quality of life,” said Bradley Crowell, director of the Nevada Department of Conservation and Natural Resources. “Our trail systems are rich with stories, historic treasures, rare species, and unique vistas that make our home State a great place to live, work, and play. We want to congratulate our partners at the National Trails System for achieving this exciting 50-year milestone, and to thank them for their continued support.”

Since 1994, Nevada has received approximately $21 million from the Recreational Trails Program to help fund hundreds of trail systems throughout the State, some recognized nationally for their historic and recreational value.

Nevada’s National Historic Trails

National Historic Trails are long-distance trails (more than 100 miles long), featuring historic routes, remnants, and archeology. With more than 110,000 historic, cultural, and archaeological resources statewide, the Nevada State Historic Preservation Office emphasizes that these trails call to all who want to explore Nevada’s unique history and cultural diversity.

·      California National Historic Trail

·      Old Spanish National Historic Trail

·      Pony Express National Historic Trail

Nevada’s National Recreation Trails

Ranging from less than a mile to 480 miles in distance, National Recreation Trails provide vast opportunities to enjoy Nevada’s precious environmental treasures, unique wildlife, and inspiring vistas.

·      Tahoe Rim Trail

·      Grimes Point Trail

·      Ruby Crest Trail

·      Toiyabe Crest Trail

·      Wheeler Peak Trail System

·      Mt. Charleston Trail

·      River Mountains Loop Trail

·      Historic Railroad Trail

·      Black Canyon Water Trail

From north to south, numerous national trails cross paths with Nevada State Parks, and some areas are also open to off-highway vehicles. The Nevada Off-Highway Vehicles Program will soon unveil a digital, user-friendly geo-mapping system designed to help off-road enthusiasts navigate their outdoor adventures.

Samantha Thompson works for the Nevada Department of Conservation and Natural Resources.