Happy Birthday Homestead: Fill & Download for Free

I have only included Brazilian songs because I just can't relate with other languages as strongly as I can with my own native language. But, hey, I have translated the lyrics!Maria Solidária (Beto Guedes - 1982)This is a song about dealing with losses and with fear. To a kid, even losing a kite can be a great loss, even a blackout during a storm can be thrilling. Fortunately, I always had around me people that comforted me in these moments.Helpful MaryI cry with a dirty faceMy kite the wind pulled awayAnd there it goes, for never moreThe new thread daddy bought...Dances Mary, o MaryThrows her young body through the air.She's to come, she'll comeHelpful to our aid..."Don't be sad, o boy"Thread is so easy to get by."Come here, come choose"Kites of every colour..."The house was dark,With the gale the rain fell heavilyThe lights went off and I wasAlone praying in the dark..."I come with the wind at night"In the light of the new day I'll sing."Shines the sun, shines the moon,"Shines the life of one who dances..."Envelheço na Cidade (Ira! - 1987)This is a song about isolation. My teenage was almost entirely spent estranged from my parents. I had to move to my grandma's house so I could study (I was born in a rural homestead). That was a tough time, for personal reasons I'd rather not discussing here. The lyrics and the attitude of this rock'n'roll song reflect the teen angst of someone formerly so loved and safe, now thrown into a complicated world.I Am Ageing in this CityAnother year goes byAnother year without youI am not the same ageI am ageing in this city.This life is a swift gameFor both you and me.Another year goes byAnd I know not what I do.The young hugging each otherDoing what they can to forget,A happy birthdayFor me or for you.Happy birthdayI am ageing in this city.Happy birthdayI am ageing in this city.My friends, my street,The girls of my block.I don't feel 'em, I don't have 'em.Another year without you.The girls walking byThe guys drinking loads,I am not the same age any moreAnd I don't belong to nobody.The young hugging each otherComing together to forgetA happy birthdayFor me or for you.Happy birthdayI am ageing in this city.Happy birthdayI am ageing in this city.Tédio (Biquíni Cavadão - 1985)I eventually finished high school, got a job, started a night college, had my first stints at romance, but my life was very empty. I feelt uprooted, among people who spoke a different dialect, had different values, lived at a different pace. The sad experiences of my teen age had estranged me from about half of my blood relatives and my health was not very good. This song is older than that, but I used to hear it a lot by then:MelancholyYou know, those daysWhen hours mean nothingAnd you don't even change from the pyjamasYou'd rather be in bed.One day, monotonyTook hold of meAnd melancholyCut short all my plans,I waited for my end.Sitting in my room,Time flying by.Out there life going onAnd I alone, doing nothing.Tried every thing,But nothing was a remedyTo set me free from melancholy.I see a TV showThat does not fulfil me,I read yesterday's paper,Because it is all the same to me.I have been like this before,I know melancholyAlways comes like thisAnd if all gets worseI don't know what I can do.Sitting in my room,Time flies by.Out there life going onAnd I am here aloneI have tried every thingBut nothing is a remedyTo set me free from melancholy.I see a TV showThat does not fulfil me,Read yesterday's paper,Because it is the same to me.I have had this problem,I know melancholyIs always like this.And if all gets worse,I don't know what I can do.Melancholy! I don't know what to do.Melancholy! That's my dramaThat's what chews on me.One day I'll get seriousAnd jump from this building.Autoridades (Capital Inicial - 1986)At the college I made friends, *quite slowly* and entertained me with new discoveries about my country and the world. I got a degree on History, of all things, and what I learned there helped give me a purpose in life. I got political! I knew what was wrong with the world, and hoped I could fix it with a hammer, and a sickle...This is a rage song, sticking a finger in the face of the system. Originally composed for a then-defunct punk rock band, it was eventually recorded and released by a much tamer band, but the message was powerful and struck a cord in the country.I could have chosen even stronger lyrics, but I want to remain polite.AuthoritiesI will denounce incompetent authoritiesI will denounce incompetent authoritiesI will denounce incompetent authoritiesI will denounce incompetent authoritiesBut before I have to tell youNobody knows what can happen to me.[If] you threaten the privileged,You'll be stopped and pushed against the wallThat's the order of the progress [1]An immoral gameThat takes no prisoners [2]Incompetent authoritiesThink you are not but puppetsToys to play withToys to play withIncompetent authoritiesKnow you are all in lineAnd the queuers do not disturb 'em.[1] A pun on the Brazilian national motto.[2] A non-literal translationInfinita Highway (Engenheiros do Hawai'i - 1987)After graduation I finally got rid of my persistent melancholy, mostly thanks to cheerful friends, lots of booze and lots of love! Yes, sex, booze and rock'n'roll.This song epitomises it. Recorded in 1987, it has, in the words of the composer "pretty meaningless lyrics, collected from an assortment of ramblings I kept jotting in a notebook."Well, meaninglessness is relative...Endless HighwayYou make me run too much against the edges of this highway [1]You make me run after the horizon of this highway.Nobody around, silence in the desert, desert highway.We are alone and none of us knows where we are bound to go.But we don't need to know were we go, we only need to keep going.We don't want to have what we haven't got, we only want to liveWithout purpose, without goals.We are alive, and that's all, that's actually the lawOf this endless highway.When I lived and died in the city I had nothing, nothing to fear,But I was afraid, afraid of the road. Do you see it? Can you see it?When I lived and died in the city I had every thing, everything around meBut all I felt was something still lacked and at night I woke up soaked in sweat.We don't want to remember what we forgot, we only want to live.We don't want to learn what we know already, we don't even want to know.We are alive and that's all.We only live by the lawOf the endless highway.Hear, girl, the wind sings a song like those we never sing for no reason.Tell me, girl, is the road a prison?I think it is now, you pretend it isn't.But we won't stand still, only 'cause of it,With out heads in the clouds and the feet on the ground.All right, girl, there's no point in being freeIf so many people live without what they need.We are alone and not one of us knows where we are bound to go.We are alive without a reason, which purpose do we have to beAfter words hidden in between the lines of the horizon of this highway.Silent highway.I see a trembling horizon. I have my eyes wet.I can be wholly mistaken, I may be running to the wrong side.But doubt is the price of purity, and it's useless to be sure.I see the signs reading "Don't race", "Don't kill yourself", "Don't smoke".I see the signs cutting the horizon like two-edged knives.My life is as confusing as Central America,[2]So please don't accuse me of being irrational.Listen, girl, let's strike a deal: You hang on the telephone if I get too abstract.I can be a Beatle, a beatnik or a squared up man,But I am not an actor, and I am not idly by your side.So, girl, let's strike a deal: Never to use the highway for a purpose.One-hundred and ten. One-hundred and twenty. One-hundred and sixty.[3]Only so we know how much can the engine stand.In the mouth, instead of a kiss, a mint chewing-gumAnd the shadow of a smile that I lost in one of the turns of the highway.[1] Had to be non-literal. The original says "run the risks", which is the Portuguese idiom for "taking risks" or "acting boldly", but there is also a pun involving the risks of life and the lines of the highway.[2] This comparison speaks volumes about how the average Brazilian sees the rest of Latin America.[3] These are speed measurements in kilometres per hour. Equivalents in mph would be (rounded): 70 mph, 75 mph and 100 mph.Gritos de Guerra (Chiclete com Banana - 1987)This is a song about hope. This is actually a Carnaval song, and it was playing loud at a "trio elétrico" when I was raving like mad in the 1997 Fat Tuesday... when I kissed for the first time a woman that almost got me mad...Cries of WarI keep walking among flowers and wars.I keep gliding between good and evil.A bit crazy among monsters and beasts,I am a knight of doomsday.Hope is a fire arrow that lits my heart.I sing and shout again:Peace for this world, and union too!My sword is the voice with which I sing,Flying free as the sparrow.You kiss me and I get lost in your spellThen I see life, the real costume.Hope one day every one will be able to sing this chorus... "Peace for this world, and union too!"Vide Vida 'Marvada' (Rolando Boldrim - 1971)This is the only folk song in the list, though I could have made an entire one made only by Brazilian folk songs. Well, like American country songs, those from Brazil tend to be quite dark. Some authentic folk songs are so dark that they can drive you moody upon listening. It is said that these songs are so sad because they reflect the suffering and the sadness of the Amerindians and Africans, who shaped them in the past.This particular song is not very dark, despite its bittersweet, matter-of-fact and melancholic worldview. It strikes me because it is about how music heals the soul from the wounds of the world. Unusually deep, this song will leave a happy aftertaste when you digest its bitterness.It is also very beaufitul and simple because it uses a very traditional arrangement, with only a steel guitar (doing the bassline), a viola (Brazilian folk guitar), a handicrafted bamboo flute and a leather drum. These were the traditionalo Brazilian folk instruments before the introduction of the accordion. The song is here because of my relapse in depressin between 2001 and 2004.To translate this is almost impossible, because every line has a double meaning, but I will try.Come, Wicked LifeThere is a gossip here where I liveThat the sorrows I sing are badly plucked, [1]That in the hay chewed by my cattleThe spittle was always holy and pure. [2]They say that I ruminate since I was a kid,Weak and short, the feed of the road, [3]That I chew on the world and ruminateAnd so keep leading this wicked life.It's because the viola speaks high in my human chest [4]And every song is a medicine for my disappointments.It's because the viola speaks high in my human chestAnd every sorrow is a mystery outside this plane. [5]For all those who say I don't know how to live:Come to my house for a visit someday,In the verse or the obverse of my entire life [6]You'll find me at a *cateretê*.[7]There is a proverb said to be trueThat the good horse will not scare the herdAnd that those who refuse the world murmuringWill spend screaming this whole wicked life.A godfriend of mine who aged singingSays that ruminating you can still be happy.[8]That's why I roam about plucking as I canAnd looking for my *fleur de lis*.[9][1] The viola, the Brazilian folk guitar, must be played by plucking the strings individually, otherwise it will sound blunt (because it uses open tunings). To play it without plucking is the same as playing it with a heavy hand, which suggest lack or artistry.[2] This is a hint that the singer, struggling with his instrument, fails to feed and water the cattle, which is then forced to sip its own spittle.[3] To ruminate is used as a metaphor for brooding over things past, instead of moving over. It is suggested that the singer is a resentful person since he was a kid. The "feed of the road" is the hardships life forces us to swallow.[4] The singer claims that even before the physical viola plays his songs, he has another one that sounds higher inside himself (probably his inspiration or something yet to be seen...).[5] The singer claims to believe that every sorrow he's been through has some higher meaning.[6] The invitation the singer makes is good either for his good days (the verse) or his bad ones (the obverse).[7] The *cateretê* is a particularly joyful folk dance from Brazil. The singer claims that he'll be always able to cheer when he wants to.[8] The singer prefers to follow the advice of his friend, who got old singing and "ruminating": you can be happy even if you resent the evils of the world. You can fight against injustice as you can, but you don't need to be sad just because you fight against sad things.[9] The singer hopes that despite his blunt plucking of the guitar and his "ruminations" about life, he will still be happy in love. So do we, don't we?A Lista (Oswaldo Montenegro - 2006)I eventually got serious and squared up. Had children and married (notice the order, hahaha). Parted ways with many of my friend, got another job, moved from town, lost most of my friends with my money. Then this song became meaningful to me:The ListMake a list of your greatest friends,Those who most often met ten years ago.How many do you still see every day?How many you don't ever meet any more?Make a list of the dreams that you had,How many have you given up dreaming?The many loves sworn for ever,How many have you managed to keep?Where do you still recognise yourself?The still from the past or the mirror now?Are you now the way you thought you'd be?How much have you just thrown away?The many mysteries you pondered,How many have you understood?How many of the secrets you keptAre now foolish and nobody cares?The many lies you used to frown upon,How many have you been forced to tell?How many of the faults fixed by timeWere the best you had in yourself?How many songs you wouldn't singYou now whistle to keep yourself alive?How many people you really lovedYou now believe they really love you?Bola de Meia, Bola de Gude (Milton Nascimento - 1978)This a song about inner peace. About reconciling with the past and finding your inner child. Milton Nascimento superply finds the connection using whistles, toy drums, children voices and lyrics that move around many things that were iconic of my generation (sock balls, which were mad of old socks tied with rags and used when the kid was too poor to afford to have an actual football, and marbles). This song brings me a deep inner peace when I hear it.Sock Ball, Marble BallsThere is a boy, there is a bratAlways living in my heart.Every time the adult is shakenHe comes to lend me a hand.There is a past in my presentA hot sun right in my backyard.Every time the witch scares meThe body lends me a hand.And tells me of beautiful thingsWhich I believe will never cease to exist:Friendship, loyalty, respect,Character, goodwill, happiness and love.Because I can't, I don't want, I shall notLive like all these people insist on living.And I can't swallow without protestThat any knavery is a normal thing.Sock ball, marble ball,The solidary wants no solitude.Every time sadness reaches meThe boy lends me a hand.There is a boy, there is a bratAlways living in my heart.Every time the adult failsHe comes lend me a hand.Será que Vou Virar Bolor? (Arnaldo Baptista - 1975)This is a song about feeling disconnected with the world. This is how I often feel now. I like things most people don't, I do things most people don't even know. I can't relate to modern music, to present-day values. I often feel myself a derelict from the past. Like Arnaldo Baptista already felt when he was sacked from the *Mutantes*.Will I Turn Into Mold?Today I noticedThat I have been clinging to things,Material things that give me pleasure.What's that, my love?Will I succumb to pain?What's that, my love?Will I turn to mold?I have been turning to the past,To having you by my side.I don't like Alice Cooper,Where is my old rock'n'roll?Where is my old rock'n'roll?Will I succumb to pain?I think I will go back to the country.I have been turning to my dreamsAnd my old motorcycle.I don't like the NASA guys,Where are my flying saucers?[1]What's that, my love?Will I succumb to pain?What's that, my love?Will I turn to mold?[1] Arnaldo strongly believes in UFOs. After his accident, he became an amateur painter and painted mostly UFOs.Jesus Numa Moto (Sá, Zé Rodrix & Guarabyra - 1973)Finally, I am now a successful man. Have bought my home, have a good salary, a happy family, but still I crave for something that was left behind. Something I wanted to have lived, but I didn't. And sometimes I feel like this old song:Jesus On a BikeArrested in this cellOf bones, flesh and blood,Giving orders to have-notsAnd taking from who has,I can barely wait the hourWhen the world will stopAnd I will live the comfortOf not being anybody else.I will turn the table,I will howl in a new pack,I will get a Marlon Brando in my mindAnd ride awayTo be like Jesus on a bike,A Che Guevara by the sidelines,A Bob Dylan from an old photo,A Cassius Clay before his ailments,A John Lennon of other ways,An Easy Rider, doubt and eclipse,A Saint Thomas of erased letters [1],An archangel Gabriel without a doomsday.Nothing in my past, all in my future,Spreading what's dead so the living can grow.Under the moonlight, even in midday.It doesn't matter the price I will pay,My business is to live.[1] An allusion to the city of São Tomé das Letras (Saint Thomas of the Letters) a magnet for hippies, bikers and mystics of all kinds.Will include the clips when I edit the answer later.

I’ll start by saying that Oakland (along with the rest of the Bay Area) has enough of a community of Yelp users that you can usually trust the Yelp ratings for restaurants. Look at the reviews and pick whatever catches your eye. I would suggest starting by checking out this link - Highest rated restaurants Oakland, CA on Yelp.comHere are some of my own personal favorites, most are “everyday” type restaurants, some are more special occasions:Fancy / High-End / Date NightCommis - Lovely 8-course fixed price menu, $$$$ but worth it in my view if you can manage it. Each person there has a pair of tweezers in their apron, in order to adjust the micro greens on each plate. Not even kidding, and really special overall experience. Commis - Piedmont Ave - Oakland, CAWood Tavern - Delicious food, great ambiance. Everything here is rich in flavor and very fresh and tasty. Can be hard to get a reservation. Wood Tavern - Elmwood - Oakland, CAHomestead - I love them for their open kitchen and fire-pit that they grill food over so you can watch. Perfect for date-night or Valentine’s day ambiance. Homestead - Piedmont Ave - Oakland, CAComfort foodHomeroom - Very tasty mac and cheese place. Pretty affordable, nice variety of fancy mac and cheese options. Homeroom - Temescal - Oakland, CASacred Wheel - Fantastic grilled cheese sandwich. Sacred Wheel - Temescal - Oakland, CASouthie - Amazing freshly prepared sandwiches (sister restaurant to Wood Tavern, right next door). Get the Spicy Hog, or the Balls. Southie - Elmwood - Oakland, CAZachary’s - Delicious deep dish pizza. Don’t get caught up in if it’s as good as “true” Chicago style pizza, it is its own thing, and that thing is wonderful. Zachary’s Chicago Pizza - Rockridge - Oakland, CALittle Star Pizza - Not technically in Oakland, but close enough to list. Some people think this is even better than Zachary’s but it’s another deep dish delight that is really, really good. Little Star Pizza - Albany, CAForge Pizza - Another delicious pizza joint. This one is located in Jack London Square, and features fire pits you can sit next to and a great waterfront view for people watching. Fried cheese curd appetizer is delicious, same for the roasted Brussels sprouts, and their salads are excellent. Pizzas are 13″ thin crust, wood fired, excellent. Forge Pizza - Jack London Square - Oakland, CABake Sale Betty - Used to be even better, but still excellent. Their fried chicken sandwich is good enough that every day there’s a line out the door to buy one. People really like them. Bakesale Betty - Temescal - Oakland, CAFenton’s Creamery - The BEST ice cream joint in Oakland. They have delicious food options as well, lots of family favorites, and if it’s your birthday, prepare to have the entire restaurant sing Happy Birthday. Be ready for a bit of a wait most days, but that’s because it’s that good. Even the Junior size sundaes are still pretty big, great for sharing. Fentons Creamery - Piedmont Ave - Oakland, CAEnjoy exploring what Oakland has to offer! There’s a ton more than what I’ve shared but this might get you started.

The last thing my mother told me was, “It's my car- I insist!”She had asked for my family's and my assistance moving away from her abusive, controlling “friend” of 20 years. Today, she's in her 70s, and as her health had declined in recent years, this guy has increasingly taken control of her life. I'll call him Il Duce, as he makes me think of that Italian dictator: a bloviating blowhard. Redundant, I know.My family and I dropped everything to extricate her as quickly as possible from her apartment. We moved her out over a weekend, dodging his verbal abuse and empty threats the whole time. He kept her medications and car keys (a car he forced her to buy even though she hadn't been able to drive for years because of seizures) She had rented the place from his parents for almost 25 years and during this time, he had taken over the managing of his parents' finances and properties. They became friends. It's important to mention my mother has always been a hoarder. Not someone who collects Hummel figurines or Avon cologne bottles. She has always kept everything that could possibly be reused, all kinds of books and magazines relating to homesteading and horses (neither of which she has ever managed to acquire in spite of having worked a steady job as a San Francisco city bus driver for over 30 years).So, even though this was the 4th time in 20 years that we'd moved her out like this , we were still 3 adults and 3 teenagers dealing with a hoarder's houseload in record time, under duress.Such a long back story. I'll cut to the chase.She had now stayed in our home for about 2 weeks. All of her possessions were now stored in a 10' x 15′ storage locker in our town (40 miles away from her previous home). We had brought her into our home full of her teenaged grandkids, who'd patiently been awaiting her return to our family life. Her friend had taken over everything of hers-the car, her money, her holidays, her freedom. I helped her regain control of her healthcare, medications, accounts, etc. She had no idea her retirement income was so much, as he'd kept her in the dark about everything. It was sad to see her so shocked to learn she could manage her medications, appointments and finances on her own. She became proud of her accomplishments and seemed to look forward to the many appointments we had set up for her to view properties in town.So I was very surprised when she suddenly had a change of heart.My 16 year old daughter had stayed home from school on this day, so she came along for the ride. We decided to drive to a couple other towns where Il Duce had set up installment accounts for things like a cemetery plot and her mailbox. We were an hour away from home, arranging to close out her mailbox account and forward her mail to our house. Suddenly, who walks right up to me, gets his face between mine and the clerk at the desk, but Il Duce!“Well, LOOK WHO'S HERE!” he shouts at me. He reeks of stale alcohol. “I have been worried SICK ABOUT YOU!”, he shouts at my mom, who's on my other side. I look at her and I find myself feeling like a mama bear. How dare he shout at her! How dare he try to intimidate her! I ask him to leave us alone. But that only adds fuel to his fire.Long story short, he eventually convinces her to step outside, “..for a proper goodbye”, as I'm finishing up with her mailbox account. I go outside to let her know I'm ready to leave and he immediately tries to pick a fight with me. He accuses me of not being a good daughter and looking after my mother, then berates me for not letting her make her own choices. Unbelievable, but so like him.At this point, I realize things are approaching unsafe. I'm worried for my mom, as I can see she's had a change of heart. I'm worried for my daughter, who's just walked over to this big scene Il Duce is making. She's realized what's happening. And now I'm starting to worry for my own safety. Even though we're standing in the middle of a public parking lot, with lots of people driving and walking by, this guy is shouting all kinds of things at me, trying to prevent my mother from hearing anything I'm saying. And I'm trying so hard to ignore him while telling her with the kindest voice and face possible, “Mom, let's go back to my house, let's meet with the real estate lady and look at a new place for you like we planned”.But now she's telling me to drive him and her back to his house, so they can have a talk. “Mom, he's yelling horrible things at me, in front of my daughter. He's threatening me, in front of you. I will not put him in the car with my daughter, or you. I promise we can make a date to come back in a few days, but not today, Mom. Please, let's go.”But she says, “ It's MY car amd I insist!”.So I ask her again, telling her, “ I understand you miss him, I understand you're feeling pulled in all directions, but this man is abusing you and you asked me to help you get away. I did what you asked, because you are my mother, my family, and this is what families do- we look after each other. Please, Mom.”“It's MY car and I INSIST!”So I gave her the keys to her car. And I told her, “Mom, I love you and i want you to be safe and happy. You're right. It is your car. But you cannot drive it-you know that, you told me today. You can either give me the keys so I can drive us all home or you can give the keys to Il Duce and you'll never see us again. You'll be choosing him and his abuse-he kicked you out- over your own family, who dropped everything to help you escape an abusive relationship. We did as you asked. I cannot let my children be a part of this madness again. I will not ask my husband to help me help you again. This is the 4th time in 20 years. It's the same guy, same problem. My kids are now old enough to know that their grandma is choosing an abusive man over a life with love, with them. Just like my sisters and I watched you chose our abusive stepfather so many years ago. Please, Mom.”She took the keys and turned around, handed them to Il Duce and he drove away with her. My daughter and I were left standing in the parking lot of a fancy shopping center, staring at each other in shock, as cars moved around us.“Mom, did that just happen? Did Gramma really leave us here??”I moved us over to a bench out of the way of cars and shoppers. We sat down and I silently cried. I let myself have a meltdown for about 40 seconds. Then I sat up, sniffed and wiped my face on my shirt sleeve and announced to my daughter, “ We're gonna be okay. Gramma wasn't ready to make that move yet. But we're gonna call Dad, he'll come get us and we'll be okay.”My daughter hugged me and said, “I'm sorry, Mom. Sorry you had to go through that, and on your birthday, too.” Yeah. It was my birthday. Almost exactly a year ago today. My daughter and the rest of my family did their best that night, to make the remainder of my birthday more pleasant. We got home, hugged, had cake and played card games. Playing card games together had become a regular thing, as we found it was a good way for all of us to catch up with each other.After the kids went to bed, my husband let me have a real meltdown, as we put every single thing my mother left in our home, out on the front porch. He texted her a picture of it all, letting her know why her recliner, medications, slippers and blanket were on the porch and that he was so sad and disappointed in her. He didn't even blink an eye when my sister and I sat in her car late that night, smoking a joint. I hadn't done that since 8th grade! “You earned it and you sure need it”, my husband said, as I don't drink alcohol. My sister had driven 4 hours to help us move her out, even though she had been estranged from our mother due to PTSD from having been abandoned by her as a child (I had moved into our father's house the year before, so missed that particular event).My mother hasn't gotten in touch since. Not a day goes by I don't wonder if I could've done something different, been a “better daughter”. Everyone tells me I did all I could do and she still declined my help. My daughter later told that she noticed Gramma had stuffed a small overnight bag behind the driver's seat that day. When she asked her about it, “..Gramma shushed me.”And for the record, I did notify her physicians of the incident. I also called adult protective services to arrange for a permanent caseworker to run out there and assess her situation. I was, and still am, concerned for her safety and well-being. Her caseworker regularly reminds me that she is still capable of making her own choices, and that if she is choosing to relinquish control of her life and assets to Il Duce, there's nothing I can do.