sharonksobotta

Serandipity--Cab driver by day, poet & writer the rest of the time

I'm a firm believer that everyone has a story to share, a lesson to teach and a dream. This morning on my cab ride to the NWSA conference, I got into an interesting conversation with the driver. He wrote his first poem after his mother died when he was just 17 years old. Today he sustains himself driving a cab and uses his free time writing poetry and using it as a tool to inspire youth in the Denver area to see the endless possibilities of life. He self-published his first poetry book, 'Can we Tell You?' Meet Gus Owens!

Resources for Sexual Assault

Justice for Oscar Grant

Former Bart Police Officer Johannes Mehserle was sentenced to two years for shooting and killing Oscar Grant during the early hours of New Year’s Day 2009. Mehserlee received credit for his time already served, leaving him with only seven more months behind bars. Supporters of Oscar Grant gathered at a rally in Oakland yesterday evening and then took to the streets demanding justice for Oscar Grant. KPFA’s Sharon Sobotta was in Oakland last night and filed this report.

Justice for Oscar Grant

HUNDREDS OF PEOPLE GATHERED IN OAKLAND TODAY TO DEMAND JUSTICE FOR OSCAR GRANT. OSCAR GRANT WAS KILLED EARLY IN THE EARLY HOURS OF JANUARY 1, 2009 BY BART POLICE OFFICER JOHANNES MEHSERLE. JOHANNES MEHSERLE IS SCHEDULED TO BE SENTENCED FOR INVOLUNTARY MAN SLAUGHTER ON NOVEMBER 5.

A Mother & Daughter's Journey with Breast Cancer

With an open hearts, open minds, positive attitudes and a camera, this mother and daughter teamed up to beat breast cancer. Listen to their story.

International Day of Climate Action

International Day of Climate Action--San Francisco, California 2009

Students Heal in Richmond, California

Aftermath of the October, 2009 gang rape case in Richmond, California

Code Pink says 'no' to drones

Code Pink--Cindy Sheehan Drone Protest November, 2009

Spoken Word Talent on the train

My flight was twenty hours away. I still needed to finish my O-audition online application, stop by the consignment store just in case there is a new dress or handbag for my last minute trip to Georgia that is on half price special, oh yes and pack. Oh and I was due to hang out in San Francisco that evening with two separate sets of friends--one group from NYC and another from Delhi, India. I made a quick purchase at the consignment store, ran down North Main Street to the place I consider my second home, Café LaScala, finished my application and then hopped on a train. On my way to the city, a homeless spoken word artist sat behind me and struck up a conversation, before asking for money. “I would,” I started to say. “But, today, I’m….” “I don’t need to hear your excuses,” he snapped. I was feisty that day. “You didn’t let me finish,” I snapped back. “Where you from? I’m from Richmond. I bet you’ve never even been there.” Wrong, wrong and wrong. I went to Richmond all the time—it was the neighboring city to the San Pablo, the home of Contra Costa County Rape Crisis Center. It’s where I went to cover the Richmond High Rape Case, The West Contra Costa Unified Teacher’s Strike, International Women’s Day. I actually went to Richmond every chance I had. By the end of the ride, the spoken word artist and I found our rhythm and he even did a demo for me on my audio recording devise.

The Story Behind the Watermelons

On the way to my car, I swung into Goodwill for a quick round of shopping. Although I have way more clothes than I probably need, I pride myself on making ninety percent of my purchases at second-hand shops. Thirty minutes later, I left with a pair of hot pink wedges, a gold pair of Jessica Simpson wedges, a pink and orange plaid top, a black dress and a pair of white pants—for a total of $30. I slipped into my car and strategically pulled my jeans on under my denim skirt, positioned the straps of my dress before doing a quick check to my right and left to make sure I was on my own and then quickly swapped my dress for my plaid top. Finally, I trade my black Paolo wedges for my new hot pink wedges. Perfect, now I could be more comfy for my journey home. Only one small problem. I had to figure out a strategic way to fit my new items into my suitcase. I opened my trunk and hopped in, so I could roll my new clothes and reorganize my already packed items to make room for my ever-expanding wardrobe. I forced the inside zipper shut, swung it closed and then sat on it as I tried to force the outside zipper closed. I was totally involved in what I was doing—so focused that I was completely startled when a man started speaking to me. I looked up and it was the watermelon salesman who had converted his pickup truck into a melon produce market just across the parking lot. “How you doin?” he asked. “My name is Max. Just wanted to see if you needed any melons.” “Where you from?” I imagine I must have been quite a spectacle. Once again, blend-in-inhibiting blonde hair, glow-in-the-dark fair skinned girl; this time chilling out in her trunk. “Hey Max. I’ll be right over to take a look at your melons and maybe I’ll grab a quick interview with you,” I said. It was serendipitous kind of a day. I had a little bit of time before my flight, so I thought I’d just see what the universe had in store for me that day. Max was a Real Estate guy before the economy crashed and now he sustains himself selling produce. I decided it would be too inconvenient for me to try and get a melon on the plane with me. Even if security let me bring it on, I’d have to carry it along with my heavy luggage. I promised I’d buy one though and frankly I needed all of the good karma I could get. “Hey, I want to keep my word. This isn’t going to fit in my luggage, but I want to buy this for him,” I said, pointing at the homeless guy, leaning up against CVS. “No. I don’t need charity,” he told me. “If you don’t need one, it’s totally cool.” “Seriously Max, this isn’t about you. It’s totally about me and I need some good karma.” “Fine. I’ll let him pick one out,” Max said with a smile and he paid it forward.