Unbelievably, This Is My 600th Column

["Let Inga Tell You,"  La Jolla Light, published June 8, 2026] 2026

Astonishingly - including and especially to me - this is my 600^th "Let Inga Tell You"  column in the La Jolla Light.

As I like to say, the first 250 were the easiest.

Even I had to leaf through four huge binders of clip sheets (also known as low-tech archiving) to see what I'd written all those columns about over the last 17 years.

When I started this column in 2009, I honestly didn't think I'd have enough material for three months since I was now retired and had, as my sons affectionately noted, "no life."

Inga actually started in 2005 as a blog that I was writing in Stockholm while we lived there on a multi-year work assignment. Hoping to embrace our Swedish experience, we dubbed ourselves Inga and Olof on our first day there. What I didn't realize at the time - but have had plenty of time to rue since - is that Inga is a common Swedish porn star name. And let me tell you, those guys from Riga don't let up. They're always so disappointed that I'm not a pole dancer with a power rack.

After a truly idyllic Swedish life during which we never owned a car, we were barely back to the U.S. when a white Mercedes slammed into us at 85 mph on I-5 putting me in the hospital. I was truly missing writing my Sweden blog which had gotten fairly popular (by my standards, anyway). Once home and recovering, I started sending out articles to newspapers and magazines hoping to freelance. The editor at the La Jolla Light at the time kept returning my submissions saying she loved the writing but that guest commentaries could be no more than 300 words. 300 words? For me that's barely warming up.

But I did finally manage to submit a 300-word guest commentary with the catchy and very descriptive title: "Vons Parking Lot: Scariest place in America."   For reasons that I have never understood about editors - and it has plagued me over and over - the Light ran the commentary but changed the title to something yawningly boring. Why, why, why do they do this? Another example: I submitted a water-rationing piece to the San Diego Union-Tribune some years back with some creative ideas about conserving water entitled "Thinking outside the hose."   They did indeed run it, but once again, with an utter snorer of a title. (Fortunately my current editor writes way better headlines than I do so I just have to indicate the topic and let him have at it.)

Despite the abysmal title of my Vons parking lot piece, so many people responded to the paper agreeing with the sentiment that the editor asked if I'd like to write a regular column for them. I loved the idea but couldn't imagine what I'd actually write about since my main focus at the time was trying to be able to chew on the right side of my mouth again. (My head and the car's side window had made an excellent illustration of an irresistible force meeting an immovable object.) So I suggested we give it a trial run of three months. But I also didn't want to show my face or use my real name as I planned to write about my kids (who grew up here) and my husband who would definitely not want to be easily identified. I had already been writing under Inga for quite a while at that point, so we decided to keep the name. Meanwhile they shot a photo of me wrapped up on a hat, sunglasses and scarf that are not mine and make me look like a terrorist. 

People have often asked me what my writing training was. The answer is: letter writing. As in thousands upon thousands of letters over my life time. There didn't used to be internet or email (ja, really), and long-distance phone calls were a dollar a minute. In fact, my only formal writing training was Freshman Composition in college which was the lowest grade of my college career. The professor hated everything I wrote, adorning pretty much every assignment on the top with "Ha ha. You think you re so funny. C+."

Which leads me to the second most common question I get: Do I ever get writer s block? (I think some people have been hoping I would get writer's block.) And the answer is nope, I just always pretend I'm writing a letter to someone. It goes without saying that I would not normally be writing newsy letters to people about trash fees and parking debacles so those are frankly a lot less fun.

But back to the point of this column (you can see why a word limit of 300 would be cruel and inhuman): what have I written 600 columns about?

Well, certainly a lot of whining about technology. I'm definitely past my sell-by date where electronics are concerned. I've written about password hell, about security questions that don't apply to me, about appliances I can't work, cell phones I can't work, computers I can't work, and remotes I can't work.

I've written quite a few columns about our beloved dogs, Winston, then Lily, and how devastated we've been - and still are - about their loss.

Less adored creatures that have found themselves in my column are crows, hawks, rats (lots of rats), raccoons, possums, mallards, coyotes, and crickets. Actually, I really like the crickets.

Health has been a pretty common topic too, especially aging, Covid, colonoscopies and contending with constantly changing health advice from the "experts."  On a more personal level I've written about childhood polio, my chocolate addiction, my weight (see "chocolate addiction"), and finding clothes for a body shaped like a T-rex (really, but not a fault of the chocolate).

I've written lots about my (second) husband Olof, an engineer and former Air Force pilot, who took up both cookie baking and sour dough bread as retirement gigs both of which he attacks with spreadsheets and flow charts. When he was recovering from his 2018 heart attack and brain injury, I officially declared him the "Worst Patient on the Face of the Earth." I definitely felt I was eating those "better or worse" vows. I wrote a whole column about how he still suspects I married him for his talents with a sewer augur.

The column I wrote entitled "Why it takes four women 80 emails to set a lunch date"  has had more reprint requests - even from a paper in South Africa - than any column I've written. I guess it's a universal problem.

The city has given me vast amounts of material, including the year-plus it took me to get my street light fixed, never mind the trash fees debacle, sidewalk repair stupidity, new trash bins, SBs 9 and 10, Turquoise Tower, and endless amounts of new parking idiocy (daylighting law, Balboa Park meters). Since I don t have any confidence that our mayor and City Council (whom, by the way, I voted for) are going to start making any good decisions any time soon, I'm confident in pretty much limitless material going forward.

I mined plenty of material about being a divorced, working perennially-destitute mom for 12 years between husbands. I developed what I called the Single Woman Home Repair School which heavily utilized hair scrunchies and duct tape as go-to tools of repair.

I've covered my efforts to master such baffling foreign languages as "spoken coffee" and "modern light bulb."  I haven't been very successful at either.

I did a hugely fun series testing all manner of internet hacks and gadgets. Even I decided to pass on the re-usable toilet paper.

My neighbors kindly consented to let me use all manner of stories about both themselves and their families. One neighbor let me regale my readers with the saga of the raccoons who took up residence under her house and were ultimately evicted by Trapper Dan the Raccoon Man who lured them out with Kentucky Fried Chicken and loud Mariachi music. It is this kind of information that needs to be shared with a larger population, and I was grateful to be the one to do it. 

The kids and then grandkids have had a lot of play too. I wrote about Olof and I suffering from bladder envy when we realized the grandkids could go 12 hours without going to the bathroom at night. When the grandtots were small, there would not be a single electronic in our home still working after they left. Even my Cal Tech-educated husband couldn't get the remotes working again.

I've written about my Catholic-Protestant-Jewish family, my dual-political-party marriage, and the hoarder gene that seems to have fortunately escaped me (but none of my siblings or cousins). I've covered picky dinner guests and annoying house guests including and especially people who take phone calls at the table. (Not at my table you don't.)

And somehow, that's all added up to 600 columns. Frankly, I don't write nearly as well as I used to. All that chardonnay does catch up with you after a point. (Lots and lots of points.) But as long as the paper continues in print and they want me to fill up space, I'm all in. Writing this column has truly fed my soul, never mind given me an outlet for all manner of grief and grievances, whining and winnings.

And now, on to column number 601.

 

My Superpower

["Let Inga Tell You,"  La Jolla Light, published May 25, 2026] 2026

When you get to be my age, you have probably developed some pretty good coping skills. Or then, maybe you haven't. I know such people. I am even related to a few of them.

But my superpower has long been documentation. It has saved me more time and money than I can even estimate, never mind given me some great column material to mine during weeks when nothing else seems to inspire me.

Documenting was actually a pretty major part of the office job I held for more than 20 years. My job description should have read: "Must be able to navigate a vast incomprehensible bog of bureaucracy administered by persons whose sole role is to make sure that no problem ever gets solved."

My boss'  solution was to relegate all this bottomless bureaucracy to me. This included figuring out how to pay visiting scientists who had ignored all instructions and come with the wrong visa, or hiring summer help outside the allowable guidelines. I once hired a summer student on a purchase order as basically a side of beef. Still proud of that one.

But as I have learned even outside my job, having a solid trail of documentation is often the only way something is going to get resolved. A year ago, I wrote a four-part series about my year-plus efforts to get the streetlight in front of my house fixed. My 90-page log memorialized every single phone call and email I sent or received. But honestly, that - along with my trademark pathological persistence - is what it took to make it happen.

Given my 23-year career as a problem solver and trouble shooter, I have an almost frightening instinct for when something is going to go south. And at that point, I'm in full documentation mode. This has been especially helpful for tracking medical bills and unraveling the way-too-frequent billing errors after a major medical event. While my husband was in the OR after his heart attack, I was in the waiting room already setting up the spreadsheet.

I also keep a file on my computer desktop with everyone I've ever hired, and equally importantly, all the people I want to make sure never to hire again. When I see multiple people on Next Door recommend the same person, I add them even if I don t need that service at the moment. My great handyman, PT guy, HVAC service, and tree trimmers have all come from Next Door recommendations.

Here are my hot tips for problem resolution:

History repeats itself: As anyone who has been reading my column for a while knows, I am a world class techno moron. So every time I/we fix some glitch on our various electronics or appliances (especially our constantly-cranky cable box), I note it in my computer file. Otherwise, we were always trying to remember what we did to fix a problem the last time it occurred.

Get copies of everything medical. Preferably before you've left a doctor s office: We have had enough care by enough providers from different networks over the years that I always get a print copy of all labs, plus imaging reports, and a copy of the image itself on a disk even if I have to pay for it. This has saved us a lot of duplication of services over the years which means saving a lot of money, repeat tests, never mind pain and suffering.

If you want someone to reply or to help you, make it easy for them. Give them a concise summary of what the issue is, what might have already happened, and what you are hoping to happen. The less work they have to do to reply, the more likely it is you'll hear back. This worked especially well for our dog's plethora of health issues evaluated by multiple vets. If it's something that will need a snail mail reply, include an SASE.

Most times when a signature is required, they don't care if the actual person signed it. They just need a signature. This is especially true in bureaucratic institutions. I can t calculate how many documents I signed for my boss and both husbands, all of whom hated having to sign stuff and who were more than happy to have me sign their names for them. I remember taking 15-year-old Henry to the DMV to take his written test for his driver's permit. The DMV clerk said, "Sorry, he needs his father s signature on this too." Next available appointment was not for a month. Henry was crushed. I said, "No problem. Fortunately his dad is waiting for us in the car."  I hustled the puzzled Henry out the front door, signed his father's name to the form, and came back to hand it to the clerk. Did she know? Maybe. Did she care? Absolutely not.

When I'm dead, my heart "won't go on" as the song says, but I hope my computer files will. I have a file called Everything you ever wanted to know about this house. This, of course, assumes anyone will actually look at it.

But it's not going to be my fault if whoever ends up with my home discovers the hard way that you can't leave the washing machine unsupervised or it will go off balance and flail around like a mechanical bull with a broken speed control and potentially end up in the living room. Or that the dryer will fluff in perpetuity. I tried to save you. I really did.

 

 

Fine Tuning Relationship Advice For The Elderly

[“Let Inga Tell You,” La Jolla Light, published May 18, 2026] ©2026

Anyone who has been reading my column for a while knows that I’m a sucker for those internet articles about how to make yourself look 20 pounds thinner (Photoshop?) or what your car says about you (cheap?) 

A Valentine’s Day-inspired “listicle” in February offered “10 Steps to a closer, more loving relationship.”  I mean, who’s not going to read that?

Well, my husband for one.  Olof is disturbingly sane but there is not a sentimental bone in his body. We’ve known each other for a long, long time, having met as 17-year-old high school exchange students spending our senior year of high school in Brazil. After a 23-year hiatus during which we went to college, married other people, divorced other people, and he spent 10 years as an Air Force pilot, we reconnected again. By this time he had moved on to a career as an engineer.  Let me say that engineers are not known for being highly emoting people and I will definitely attest that this is true.

So, here’s how those 10 steps to a closer, more loving relationship would work for us now that we’re seniors:

1. Hang some photos of the two of you together. Go to Michael’s for some cute new frames. Aside from the fact that our house is already filled with pathological numbers of photos, I honestly, I think I could replace every piece of furniture in the house all at once never mind stucco the exterior, and Olof would merely look around for the briefest moment with a look of puzzlement and query, “Is there something different here?”

2. Send him lexts (love texts) such as “I love that you get me peanut M&Ms when I have PMS.” This text would find my husband racing to the nearest toilet so fast I’d be afraid he’d break a hip. 

3. In terms of relationships, positivity means those little fun, romantic gestures.  For us, “little fun romantic gestures” means going together for flu shots and annual eye exams, and finally getting grab bars installed in the bathrooms. 

4. Let your partner know the real you.  Hell no.  We’re strict advocates of “Don’t ask, don’t tell.”  In 2006 we were in a devastating auto accident, hit at 85 mph by an impaired driver. Even after I recovered, I found driving very difficult and began seeing a therapist.  It’s not that Olof is against psychotherapy per se; he’s just puzzled why anyone would do it.  In his personal engineer view, if one has a problem, one mulls.  One ponders.  One might even create a flow chart.  No, one especially creates a flow chart.   One certainly doesn’t pay after-tax dollars to some charlatan with a pseudo-degree in what he refers to as the “squishy” sciences to engage in sharing of Too Much Information.

I didn’t mention my therapeutic activity to Olof although if he had asked, I certainly would have been happy to discuss it.  Which, of course, is exactly what he was trying to avoid. I know he wouldn’t have begrudged me any help that the “quacks” could inexplicably provide although I am sure that he thought if I would just get in the damn car and drive, we could cut the witch doctor out of the equation.

5. Make a relationship bucket list.  I think after as many years as we’ve known each other, that bucket is pretty much at the bottom of the well. But Olof’s future plans definitely include return visits to the Oshkosh AirVenture Air Show (nirvana for pilots).  I personally wouldn’t mind being back in Sweden.  (Sorry, kids!)

6. Don’t try to change him. OK, I don’t really expect to change him.  But I will never give up trying.  This whole thing of me turning on lights and him turning them off two seconds later has got to stop.

7. Schedule a double date night.  How about a single date night?  Actually, one of our many compatibilities is our aversion to paying restaurant prices for wine.  Our wedding anniversary every year consists of a nice bottle of champagne and a large anchovy pizza consumed as we watch the sunset from beach chairs in our front yard.  No reservation necessary. 

8. Dress up in something special just for him. French maid costume? Does it come in XL? Actually. we both pretty much became bag people when we retired but during the pandemic descended in a look best described as “homeless.”  We’ve never really upgraded again.  And we are totally happy with that.

9. Let him know you’re committed.  No problem there.  Given that we’ve both been divorced, we’ve agreed that if the relationship doesn’t work out, we’ll pace off in the street with 45s and see who’s still standing.

10. Have gratitude.  This one’s easy. From time to time I try to imagine what my existence would have been without Olof. On every level, the kids’ and my lives have been utterly, totally, vastly improved by Olof being part of them.  I don’t know what I did right to get Olof, but whatever it is, I’m sure going to try to keep doing it.    

                                                  Olof, age 17, arriving in Brazil

Inga, age 17,  in her Brazilian school uniform 

 

 

How My US Postal Service Package Traveled 3,300 miles For A 120 Mile Trip

["Let Inga Tell You,"  La Jolla Light, published May 11, 2026] 2026

Seriously, US Postal Service, you can do better. I know I have a quirky address but my house has been here for 79 years. You should be able to find it by now.

Now, I will concede that addresses in La Jolla can be problematical. They are basically permutations of the same ten Spanish words in an endless mix and match. I can see why those postal carriers confuse Vista Playa Bonita with Playa Bonita Vista.

That said, I have a file that is literally four inches thick of correspondence with the La Jolla Postal Service about their difficulties in finding my home in the decades I've lived here. Some of the post masters I have correspondence with have been dead for 25 years. (Yes, really.)

To be clear, the regular carriers who deliver five days a week have always been wonderful. The La Jolla Postmaster job, however, has a higher turnover than the swing shift at Jack in the Box.

It's the subs that deliver on that sixth day or during holidays and summer vacations that are the bane of my existence. It would really help if US Postal trucks had GPS systems in them which astonishingly -   given that they are a delivery service - they do not. I don't know what the subs do with my mail but bringing it to my house is not on the list. 

One of the USPS s admitted improvements is a feature you can sign up for called Informed Delivery. It emails you an alert of the mail (often including a photo of the envelope) that is due to be delivered to your house that day. So now, at least, I know in advance what mail I'm not getting.

The USPS problems were recently illustrated to me in a way that made me despair that they could ever stay in business. I ordered a clothing item a shirt - from a company in Los Angeles. They notified me the same day I ordered it April 23 that it was en route to San Diego (120 miles). This was great news until I noted that it was coming by the United States Postal Service (USPS).

Here is the verbatim copy of the USPS tracking of my shirt's Journey Across America over the next nine days:

Shipping Label Created, USPS Awaiting Item

LOS ANGELES, CA 90033 

April 23, 2026, 4:32 pm

Accepted at USPS Origin Facility

LOS ANGELES, CA 90033 

April 24, 2026, 7:04 pm

Arrived at USPS Regional Origin Facility

LOS ANGELES CA DISTRIBUTION CENTER 

April 24, 2026, 8:19 pm

Departed USPS Regional Facility

LOS ANGELES CA DISTRIBUTION CENTER 

April 25, 2026, 3:36 am

Arrived at USPS Regional Facility

SAN DIEGO CA DISTRIBUTION CENTER 

April 25, 2026, 6:05 am

Arrived at USPS Facility

DALLAS, TX 75211 [Huh?]

April 27, 2026, 12:42 am

Departed USPS Facility

DALLAS, TX 75211 

April 27, 2026, 7:11 am

Arrived at USPS Regional Facility

DALLAS TX DISTRIBUTION CENTER 

April 27, 2026, 7:23 am 

In Transit to Next Facility

April 28, 2026

Arrived at USPS Regional Facility

FRESNO CA DISTRIBUTION CENTER [Gah! No!]

April 29, 2026, 2:35 am

Departed USPS Regional Facility

FRESNO CA DISTRIBUTION CENTER 

April 29, 2026, 7:49 pm

In Transit to Next Facility

April 29, 2026, 10:10 pm

Arrived at USPS Facility

HIGHLAND, CA 92346 [NEAR SAN BERNADINO - OK, right direction at least.]

April 30, 2026, 1:54 am

Departed USPS Facility

HIGHLAND, CA 92346 

April 30, 2026, 4:35 am

Arrived at USPS Regional Facility

SAN DIEGO CA DISTRIBUTION CENTER

April 30, 2026, 6:43 am

Arrived at USPS Facility

SAN DIEGO, CA 92122 

April 30, 2026, 2:32 pm

Departed USPS Regional Facility

SAN DIEGO CA DISTRIBUTION CENTER 

April 30, 2026, 2:32 pm

Arrived at Post Office

SAN DIEGO, CA 92122 

May 1, 2026, 12:49 am [that took 8 hours??]

Out for Delivery

LA JOLLA, CA 92037 

May 1, 2026, 6:10 am

Delivered, Front Door/Porch

LA JOLLA, CA 92037

May 1, 2026, 12:19 pm

To summarize, this shirt was mailed the afternoon of April 23 and arrived in San Diego at 6 a.m. April 25^th. I expected to see it later that day. But no! It was then routed to Dallas (why? why?) where it arrived on the 27^th, made stops in various USPS facilities there, and was sent on to Fresno where it arrived on the 29^th. After a nice visit there at their assorted facilities, it traveled on to Highland (near San Bernadino) where it arrived on April 30. It was trucked down from Highland to San Diego where it finally was delivered to my home on May 1.

This shirt has seen more of the North Central Plains area of Texas and the California Central Valley than most Americans. I wanted to ask it: did you have fun? Did you meet other nice shirts? Maybe some friendly handbags? 

But even more I wanted to ask the US Postal Service: why, when this shirt had already traveled 120 miles from LA to its destination city (San Diego) on April 25 did you truck it an extra 3,138 additional miles on a deluxe sight-seeing tour to Dallas (1,183miles) then Fresno (1,558 miles), then San Bernadino (282 miles) then back to San Diego (115)? That doesn't even count its inner city transfers to different distribution centers. Hey, gas is expensive these days. I'm sure you guys get a discount, but really. Do you think this is why you could be losing money? Because it would have been so much less expensive for you to just deliver it on April 25 when it was already in town. In nine days, even walking from L.A. would have been faster.

Sadly, this shirt didn't fit so it is now en route back to L.A. I don t even have the heart to look at the tracking. I just hope it's having a good time.

 

 

Dear Lasers Soccer Parents - Part 3

["Let Inga Tell You,"  La Jolla Light, published April 27, 2026] 2026

This is Part Three of a three-part series of excerpts from memos I sent to parents as team manager of my younger son Henry s Lasers soccer team. As much as I whine about technology, it was infinitely more difficult to manage youth sports in the pre-internet, pre-cell phone, pre-Google Maps era.

April 1

Memo to: Lasers Soccer parents

From: Inga, Team Manager

(1) Hotel Reservations for State Cup

Don't forget to call the Embassy Suites in Brea to make your hotel reservation! The reservation is under La Jolla Lasers Soccer Team.

(2) Request from Coach Trevor #1

He would like to remind every one of the barbarians, er, lads to bring a ball to soccer practice, even if coming straight from a baseball game.

(3) Request from Coach Trevor #2

Coach Trevor wants to know if the team would like him to return to coach us again next year (starting in August). I should mention that he broached this subject before our disastrous games in Chula Vista today so if he suddenly claims no knowledge of this query...   Anyway, it's something he wants us to think about and hopes to have a meeting about it at State Cup. The requirement for him would be that the boys have a different commitment for the spring season than they had this year. I think this means that baseball players need not apply. No, just that players that also play the b-word sport would be willing to miss more b-word games than they have this year. As in, all of them.

April 13

Memo to: Lasers Soccer parents

From: Inga, Team Manager

(1) This could actually be my last memo. (But don't count on it; it's so hard to let go of a captive audience.) Just wanted to remind people of a couple of details, mainly that if anyone knows of any outstanding debts this team owes, or thinks they should be reimbursed for something, speak now or forever hold your receipt. I want to close out our account for the year as soon after State Cup as possible.

(2) If you need to find me at the Embassy Suites: (a) finding me under Henry's last name/my former married name will get you nowhere. (b) Most of you know my significant other, Olof, who will probably get there before me (since he is coming from L.A.). But for those who don't, he just hates being treated like a mugger-rapist-child molester pervert who hangs around hotel lobbies trolling for soccer players. So yes, he belongs there. (c) This broken home stuff is really the pits.

See you Saturday!

Thursday, April 14

Urgent Phone Tree Message from Inga, Team Manager

Re: STATE CUP FIELD LOCATION HAS BEEN CHANGED!

Please call and leave a message on my home answering machine that you received this information!

Last night Thursday - at 9:30 p.m., the State Cup Director called me and said, "I'm sorry to give you such short notice, but we re changing your State Cup location for Saturday."   Then he put me on hold for three minutes. This, fortunately, gave me ample time to get completely hysterical, so by the time he came back on the line, I was able to instantly launch into a full diatribe: ("Are you KIDDING? Dream ON! We're NOT moving! Forget it! If you're sending us back to Bakersfield, we forfeit! You've got the wrong number! This is not the La Jolla Lasers; they have moved and left no forwarding address. If you think after all this you re still going to get Shelley [hot team Mom whose body had been offered to keep us from playing in Bakersfield] etc. etc."

Fortunately, they are just moving our entire bracket to another field in Brea, to Brea Olinda High School. Since a number of you are driving up on Saturday and going straight to the field, I need everyone to confirm with me that they received this new information as there is no way for us to find out where you are if you go to the old field. For those staying at the Embassy Suites on Friday, the National Science Foundation's copier and I will have produced new maps and directions. All playing times and opponents remain the same.

April 30

Memo to Lasers Soccer Parents

From: Inga, soon-to-be-ex team manger (woo-hoo!)

I swear this really really is the last memo you'll get from me. And this one bears good news!

                                                $$$$$$$$MONEY$$$$$$$

You are getting a refund! The reasons for this are: (a) we added another player (b) unbelievably, everyone paid up (and my cousin Guido didn't even have to threaten them that hard) (c) the Embassy Suites was cheaper than the place we were going to stay in Bakersfield so coach expenses were less, BUT (d) we ended up having to pay for referees at State Cup which I hadn't expected. HOWEVER, (e) we saved ref fees on the one game the other team forfeited, NEVERTHELESS Coach Trevor drove so we had to pay him gas mileage.

The checks - made out to Moms and in denominations suitable for a nice lunch or a massage - are for varying amounts of money. This is due to the fact that everyone paid me a slightly different amount of money (some in blocks, some rounding off my request to the nearest $10 etc.) Some forgot how much I asked for and just sent me mysteriously-odd amounts of money (and hey, I wasn't proud, I took it.) The bottom line is that everyone was charged the same expenses from the time they joined the team. The accounting firm of Price Waterhouse has reviewed this account and OK, maybe not. But if you have questions, call me.

I also want to take this opportunity to thank you all (a) for the gift certificate to Georges at the Cove and (b) that it wasn't a Thigh Master. Henry has even talked his way into being included in the Georges meal. It occurred to me that he ought to know that there are actually restaurants where you don't yell your order through the mouth of a clown. (Could be risky; he might want to go to one of the Georges places again.) So, thanks it was really kind of all of you.

And as the saying goes that's all folks!

 

 

Dear Lasers Soccer Parents - Part 2

["Let Inga Tell You,"  La Jolla Light, published April 20, 2026] 2026

This is Part Two of a three-part series of excerpts from memos I sent to parents as team manager of my younger son Henry's Lasers soccer team. It was infinitely (understatement) more difficult in the pre-internet, pre-cell phone, pre-Google Maps era.

March 14

Memo from: Inga, Team Manager

To: Lasers Soccer parents 

Oh, no! She s back! And I ll bet she wants money! Right on both counts.

I need to start collecting money. ASAP. Since wringing checks out of you guys tends to be a time-consuming job, I am hoping to collect the rest of the season's fees all in one check. Suffice to say, if we have money left over, you will each get a pro-rated refund. So by my hopefully-correct calculations, attached is a breakdown of the total which includes Coach Trevor's fees for March and April, plus his hotel and transportation expenses for State Cup. I really need a check from each of you as soon as possible. Please (please please) don't make me call you 15 times. As my kids will testify (hopefully not in court; we're working out the terms), I can get very grumpy when provoked. A reminder to only call my work number if it is really really important and/or good news.

March 24

Memo to: Lasers Soccer Parents

From: Inga, Team Manager

(1) Money

I still have not received checks from five people. I hate having to call people and nag them for money. Hence my new team policy:

NO PAY, NO PLAY

So either send me a check (if you haven't already) or call me with a story so piteous that I cry uncontrollably for at least five minutes. And good luck with that. Keep in mind that I am a divorced working mom earning just above minimum wage in an entry-level job. I have a heart of stone. So: NO EXCEPTIONS, including and especially, "It's in the mail."

(2) State Cup

I called the nice State Cup people again this morning as they had promised me details about dates, times, and location of our games by "mid-March."  When I called earlier this month, I offered them my body to change our location from Bakersfield to Allen Field in La Jolla where games in our bracket are actually being played. Unfortunately, a request like that would require more like Shelley s [hot mom on the team] body than mine. [Shelley - call me.] Anyway, their nice recording says that the packets of team assignments are going out by "March 28." The National Science Foundation (who pays me and provides a photocopier) and I will get this information to you as soon as possible.

March 28

Memo to Lasers Soccer parents

From: Inga, Team Manager

Re: There IS a God

OK, so we knew that. But He/She speaks in mysterious ways. Despite the State Cup folks continued insistence that we would be playing in Bakersfield, they have assigned us to Brea, the northern-most community in Orange County. Shelley -  if you had anything to do with this, thank you! And Bill for lending out Shelley. Way to take one for the team! I don't know about the rest of you, but not having to drive to Bakersfield again has renewed my will to live. Our games, you will note from the schedule, are on Saturday, April 16 at 10 a.m. and 4 p.m. and on Sunday at 11 a.m. I also taped onto the schedule their charmingly cryptic directions to the field. I will be getting you a more detailed map of both Brea and our hotel before the game. Please note that if we win our bracket, we do go to Bakersfield the next weekend (April 23-24). Far be it from me to ever suggest throwing a tournament but half of our team is also playing baseball now.

Given the shortness of time available, I contacted the travel agency that is handling hotels for any teams that want their help and in hopes of not reliving the Irving Thanksgiving Hotel Horror of two years ago (80 soccer teams staying at a 17-story high-rise with only king size beds available; the elevator fiasco and the fire we won t go into), told them we wanted something that not more than four other teams are staying at and that there was ample choice of types of beds (including the availability of rollaways.) I called back later today and they'd forgotten who I was/what I wanted and said, "You vant [sic] Bakersfield, right?"

So I called and discovered there is an Embassy Suites in Brea. Working on a rate with them.

BTW, I still haven t received checks from a few people. Tomorrow's memo lists your names!

March 29

Memo of the Day to Lasers Soccer parents

From: Inga, Team Manager

Hotel Information for State Cup in Brea

We are actually going to stay at the Embassy Suites in Brea! There are a couple of qualifications, however. They are primarily a business hotel and so don't want unsupervised kids in rooms by themselves - at least any that they know about and that are causing trouble. They also don't want high-density rooms due to the free breakfast. (If they knew how much these kids eat, it would definitely be a deal breaker.) I'm not suggesting that you lie, but when they ask how many people will be in the room, you might want to develop amnesia about any number over four. In fact, they want a parent or at least a parent of record in every room which I didn't foresee as a problem. I assured them that we are a very sedate, well-mannered family-style group that has hardly ever been ejected from a hotel before.

Money (sigh, always money)

The State Cup people just informed me that we have to pay the ref after each game. Cash. So after all this careful budgeting, I may need to ask you for more money. This makes it more imperative than ever that EVERYONE gets their money to me as soon as possible! I just hate to think of poor Coach Trevor up there in Brea sleeping in his car and eating dog food. I imagine Coach Trevor hates to think of it too. So you know who you are pay up!

[Stay tuned for Part 3 of Dear Lasers Soccer Parents next week!]

 

Dear Lasers Soccer Parents - Part One

["Let Inga Tell You,"  La Jolla Light, published April 13, 2026] 2026

A few weeks ago, I wrote about a long-overdue file cabinet cleaning project and coming upon a folder of communications as a team manager to my younger son Henry s Lasers soccer team. The Lasers organization, a AA traveling team, professionally coached, seems to be long gone. But as I noted in my column, managing youth sports in the pre-internet, pre-cell phone, pre-Google Maps era was exponentially more difficult. For the next three columns, I am going to revisit team memos from that era which could not illustrate this more clearly.

November 4

To: Lasers Soccer team parents

From Inga, Team Manager, and General Purveyor of Unpleasant Financial News

(1) We need money

What, again? What are those team managers doing with our bucks, padding their kids'  college funds? OK, OK, I've heard it. Our October coaching fees for Coach Trevor plus the Irvine Harvest Cup and State Cup registration fees, plus Coach Trevor s expenses for Irvine were all calculated by my predecessor on the basis of 12 paying players. Since one has departed, we only collected these fees from the increasingly grumpy parents of 11 players. By the principles of Boolean algebra, symbolic logic, deduction, and long division, this means we are short of money. The league maliciously refuses to act like a nice friendly bank and give us overdraft privileges. They do an automatic deduction of our account on the last day of the month for Coach Trevor's salary, so if your kid suddenly doesn't play, you'll know why. (Just kidding. We are mature adults and would never stoop to punishing kids for the actions of their deadbeat parents.) Other payments, for those who have asked, are made by the Team Manager (moi) submitting a check request to the League Manager; I have no direct access to our funds. We have paid both the entry fee to the Irvine Harvest Cup and to State Cup. The league has magnanimously (and because I begged them) come up with our $200 bond for State Cup (separate from our entry fee) but warns that if we do a no-show, we have to ante up the money ourselves to pay them back or consequences too dire to even mention will occur. (Something about your kid playing fullback on a rec team in perpetuity.) I figure if we bring everyone's account balances up to (X), we will have enough to pay the November coaching fees and cover the shortfall mentioned above.

(2) Thanksgiving Weekend Harvest Cup News

In keeping with National Youth Soccer regulations, we will be informed of our game times in Irvine with the absolute minimal notice possible to ensure maximum inconvenience, stress, and difficulty in Thanksgiving holiday planning.

November 16

Memo to Lasers Soccer Team parents

From: Inga, Team Manager

Attached, courtesy of the National Science Foundation's photocopier at my office, are copies of all the tournament information that was sent to me. Frequently asked questions:

(1) When are we playing in Irvine?

Our games are Friday at 12 noon and 6:40 p.m. Games on Saturday are 10 a.m. and 5:35. I am assuming that most people will come up on Friday morning and meet at the field no later than 11 a.m. (I doubt we'd be able to get into our hotel before mid-afternoon.) We'd have to win our bracket or be the wild card to play on Sunday which makes the hotel arrangements problematic, as always.

(2) How do we find out if a practice is cancelled due to rain?

I put that question to Coach Trevor. There was a long pause before he replied, "Why would we cancel a practice due to rain?"   You could hear him thinking, "Boy, these California kids are worse weenies than I thought!"  Keep in mind that Coach Trevor is British and if they cancelled due to rain, soccer would be extinct. I explained that it has nothing to do with the kids getting wet; the problem is that the kids'  cleats tear up the field when it's wet in our arid climate. The roots just aren't very deep. Anyway, if it is so wet that we really can't practice, Coach Trevor will let me know and I will activate the dreaded Phone Tree.

(3) So, Inga, what is the best way to reach you since you work?

Shucks, I was afraid that someone was going to ask that. Four years of Cub Scout calls ruined my bosses' otherwise good natures about my volunteer activities. (The final straw was when someone asked my boss - a world-renowned researcher - what the requirements were for a Wolf Badge.) So I am going to give out my work number but ask that you not call me there for routine calls. Emergencies only. If a man answers, hang up.

(4) Unsolicited weather tip 

Two years ago this team played under lights in Irvine at Thanksgiving. Despite my having grown up in the Snow Belt, I can say with absolute certainty that the coldest I have ever been was at one of the night games at that tournament. With all the hotel'a blankets and towels wrapped around us, we looked like candidates for a list of 10 Worst Dressed Inuits. (The main problem was the wind.) Anyway, since we're playing two evening games, come prepared to channel your best Nanook of the North.

[Stay tuned next week for Dear Lasers Soccer Parents - Part 2]