Friday evening there was an Elton John tribute band in the plaza. Since Yellow Brick Road is one of my all-time favorite albums, I thought, why not? My youngest, visiting from Boston, had plans to see her friends in Berkeley. It had finally cooled off a bit, and the smoke from the wildfires wasn’t blowing… Continue reading Crocodile Rock
Category: summer
Plain Jane
My middle name is Jane. I don’t love it. There was a commercial in the 70’s for hair dye, I think. I remember the line,” Don’t be a plain Jane.” After that I disliked both my middle name and my hair color. There was another commercial in that decade that said, “Boys don’t make passes… Continue reading Plain Jane
My Past Life as a Cat Burglar
I was fifteen hundred miles away from home. It was the summer of 1975. I had my sample case with me from Southwestern Books. I’d worn my hot pants to stay cool. I had already rung three dozen doorbells. Selling books door to door wasn’t always a cake walk. It was lunchtime. I had one… Continue reading My Past Life as a Cat Burglar
A Corny Tale
It all started with a post on Facebook, showing how your average American doesn’t know how to shuck corn. If you are from Iowa in the 60’s, then you know how. We weren’t well off. As a matter of fact, people would give us bags of food, like homegrown apples, tomatoes, or corn. Our job… Continue reading A Corny Tale
Work or Woodstock?
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 Work or Woodstock?
Another Brush with Nature
My beach town has a state-run conference center in it, with rustic buildings designed by the architect, Julia Morgan. It’s what got me here back in the late 80’s and 90’s, attending a writer’s conference next to the ocean. Over the years. I’ve seen brown state-issued signs posted for mountain lion sightings. I’ve never seen… Continue reading Another Brush with Nature
Street Dance
After hiking six miles with the senior group called DASH, which does not dash at all, but rather hikes slowly through the woods with plenty of stops for bathroom breaks, snack breaks, or count-up-and-regroup breaks, I was too pooped to go out dancing. But my friends were going, it was close (just one town up… Continue reading Street Dance
