In 1969 Max Yasgur’s pig farm in upstate New York sounded like the place to be for three days and three nights. Frank had been delivering the Woodstock tickets for weeks on Long Island at his job as a summer letter carrier for the U.S. Post Office. He and the other summer carriers knew it… Continue reading Woodstock or Work?
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 black boots because I was dressed as a German beer garden maid, and they were the best shoes with white knee socks. “They’re good for dancing,”… Continue reading Don’t Judge a Book
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 the… Continue reading Be Careful What You Wish For
The farmhouse was next to the highway, close enough for me to hear the train come by every night, and far enough away from the tracks to get used to sleeping through it. No houses could be seen from any window — just trees, sky, and lots of cornfields. It was a peaceful place, sometimes… Continue reading Asparagus, Anyone?
It’s that time of year. The nights are cooling down, the sun is setting earlier, everything is either starting back up or ending. The outside music venues are closing up, and the Halloween costumes are showing up in the thrift stores. The kids have been back at school for almost a month. The parks are… Continue reading The Sweet Spot
It was a Sunday. I was supposed to be going to a birthday party in Antioch, forty minutes away. But the day had become a comedy of errors. I had sweet-talked my son into installing my new printer and had lured him over with the promise of pizza for lunch. It took him longer to… Continue reading Best Laid Plans
Yesterday was the annual singles’ club party/picnic at one guy’s lush estate in Hayward. I picked up my girlfriend, and we let the GPS woman’s voice direct us down Five Canyons Road to a bunch of turns until we finally found the place. I’d been there many times before but always as a passenger, never… Continue reading Cornhole, some Critters, and a Ghost on her Phone