My childhood friend from Iowa called the other day. As we were comparing notes about our dysfunctional childhood households (hers with physical abuse, mine verbal), she mentioned the immigrant caravan at the border. “What are going to do about that?” she said. “Let in the women and children,” I said. “I’m not sure about the… Continue reading The Benefits of a Hard Childhood
(re-run) I’ve lived in my little house for seven years and four months. The neighborhood is about 48 years old, and the trees that are here are huge. My pie-shaped lot is wide and shallow in the back. Las Trampas Ridge is due west, beyond the freeway, but I could not see it because of… Continue reading Be Careful What You Wish For
The summer concerts have ended, except for one. The sleeveless cotton dresses are packed away, along with pairs of shorts and sandals. It’s jeans and long sleeves now, with the occasional hot afternoon where I strip down to my undershirt. Fall has arrived, not so much with leaves changing colors. We don’t have cold enough… Continue reading You Know It’s Fall when . . .
PK lived in Jersey when her friend’s mum was terminally ill in Boston. When her friend called to say her mother had died, PK woke up feeling bad but thought it was the heat. She wanted to go to the funeral and surprise her friend. She loaded up her three-year-old daughter and took off for… Continue reading A Funeral, an Appendix, and a Dead Concert
When I moved to the Bay Area, no one explained what Fleet Week was. But after many years, I finally figured it out — big ships, military stuff, the Blue Angels. The Blue Angels are six military jets that fly in formation by some amazing pilots. They fly over the city of San Francisco for… Continue reading Fleet Week and the $10,000,000 Lot
It’s amazing once a person takes the internet out of the daily equation, just how much she can get done. And how she doesn’t miss it all that much. And how she has time to write about not missing it. As technology goes, I could take it or leave it. I still shop at real… Continue reading What to Do instead of Going Online
I am ashamed of some of my friends. Let’s just say we are in the senior citizen range, from fifty-five and up. Way up. Some of them are in their eighties. They are making fun of youth marching in the streets for climate change. They are attacking Greta Thunberg, the Swedish teenager who started it… Continue reading The Shame of my Generation