Get Some Facetime

(re-run) As I stepped into the waiting room of my chiropractor’s office, three women and one guy were looking down at their cell phones, sitting in a symmetrical pattern amongst the u-shaped chairs. Feeling giddy from my fifty-five minute massage I said,” Well, this looks like a blog post to me! You’re all on your… Continue reading Get Some Facetime

Daisy and the Rain Storm

(re-run) We haven’t had a big rain for 9 months. Today we are in the middle of an atmospheric river aimed at the Bay Area. People and plants are rejoicing. Firefighters are taking a much-needed rest.  Yesterday, we even danced at a winery in light rain as a hope for a wet winter and also… Continue reading Daisy and the Rain Storm

When You Hit a Girl with your Truck

(re-run) I wasn’t texting. I wasn’t speeding. I hadn’t been drinking. Otherwise I would’ve killed her. She ran out in front of me at 4 o’clock on a Monday afternoon. I didn’t see her until her long hair was flying up in front of my hood. I slammed on the brakes and sat there in… Continue reading When You Hit a Girl with your Truck

A Lasting Love

(re-run) Maurice was a sophomore at Riordan Catholic High School for Boys in San Francisco. He played tenor sax in the marching band. His buddy, Dave, was dating a girl named Sheila from Mercy Catholic High School for girls, and he suggested that Maurice date her older sister, Colleen. The foursome went to the football… Continue reading A Lasting Love

A Different Kind of Fall

(re-run from 2018) In my 33 years in California (one and a half down south, the rest up north), I can’t remember a fall where we have not had a drop of rain by mid-November. I also can’t remember ever having three big fires in less than two years that have burned down whole communities… Continue reading A Different Kind of Fall

Don’t Judge a Book

(re-run) Of all the pick-up lines I’ve ever heard, the best one came yesterday at the Walnut Creek Octoberfest. “Now those are some sensible shoes.” Yes, I had on one-inch-heel black booties because I was dressed as a German beer garden maid, and they were the best shoes with white knee socks. “They’re good for… Continue reading Don’t Judge a Book

The Racist, the Ficus Tree, and my Garage Sale

(re-run) When I was six, the one black boy in my elementary school was in my class. His name was Teddy. This was white-white-white Iowa in the 60s.  My first grade teacher, Mrs. Van Cura, got angry at the class one day for misbehaving and said, “Whoever doesn’t behave will have to play with Teddy… Continue reading The Racist, the Ficus Tree, and my Garage Sale