kids think they know what’s going on
Our whole school practiced Air Raid drills during the Bay of Pigs conflict and the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis. Continue reading “our time” »
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make it a great day
May 2nd, 2017
attitude is everything
“How are you this fine day?”
I remember my mother asking a clerk that question, and she received a warm smile by asking. My mom decided she to be nice that day, and people were nice to her. Continue reading “make it a great day” »
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love and lose or lose without love
April 25th, 2017
hello, goodbye, to feel or no
Time runs its course, decades come and go, and sometimes we lurch forward into profound realization. Continue reading “love and lose or lose without love” »
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difficulties of being hip
April 18th, 2017
It was important to love the Beatles
My mother made me take accordion lessons in the early 1960’s, and I barely survived the dweebness of playing the Can-Can at a kid’s neighborhood party. I was in hell, standing in front of cool guys sitting in folding chairs, watching me squeeze a white mother-of-pearl box back and forth, wanting to die. Continue reading “difficulties of being hip” »
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the story of April
April 11th, 2017
confusing choices open and close doors
If my father lived, he would be ninety-seven years old at the end of April. I can’t imagine him as an old man, because he was forty-eight when he killed himself. In my opinion, alcohol played an enormous role in why he chose suicide, caught in a twofold trap of craving and obsession, wanting to stop, unable to live without it. Continue reading “the story of April” »
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craving
April 4th, 2017
climbing a tall tree is the greatest and scariest of all
Every inch of the twenty-foot eucalyptus bending over the gully bottom was familiar. Too high to jump, I hugged that tree like it was family, scooting along limbs, petrified of making one deadly mistake that might break my neck. Continue reading “craving” »
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go away, shame
March 28th, 2017
alcoholism passes on
When I was twelve, my father slipped on the deck at Strawberry’s recreation pool during a black out and split his elbow open, blood everywhere. I don’t know how he made it home. Continue reading “go away, shame” »
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my first toke
March 21st, 2017
it was more about the weed than friendship
A bunch of girls crawled into the bushes at somebody’s sleepover when I was in junior high school and smoked homegrown marijuana, sitting cross legged in a circle, passing around pungent hand-rolled cigarettes. Listening to paper crackle, I inhaled without coughing, because I’d been smoking cigarettes since I was nine years old. Continue reading “my first toke” »
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writing the truth
March 14th, 2017
these lines started everything
“These are your private journals, and you can write anything you want.” My sixth grade teacher gave us little booklets with fat blue lines. Writing was a relief. Continue reading “writing the truth” »
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changing a value
March 7th, 2017
Los Angeles is beautiful
My mother was a snob about Marin County, and didn’t like Los Angeles, because of population, traffic congestion and the heat. We had the Bay, which made our lifestyle better, more naturally beautiful than the Los Angeles desert. I was brainwashed to believe that my Southern California relatives didn’t live in as good a place as we did. Continue reading “changing a value” »
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