In the Carport

At first, I decided, the 1991 British studio recording of Brigadoon was overblown, the big orchestra somehow too big, the voices too perfect, even operatic.  But by the end of the first half mile, my reactions were shifting.  It may have been the endorphins, of course.  You've got to admit that it's perfect exercycle music, stirring but not challenging.  And in my case, homey.  Positive associations with my early home life being rather scarce, but this seems to remain happily Read more [...]


An African tribal teacher from my annual men's conference in the Midwest talked about a set of beings, gods, one might say, called filth eaters.  At least they come with an unambiguous name, these spirits.  Even better, a clear and focused job description.  I am utterly in sync with filth eaters.  On a regular basis, I think of the compost tumbler by my back fence, the months of kitchen waste that have accumulated there...with room for more.  And the next stage, I think of Read more [...]


Ah, the ease and unease of a globally warmed January, lunching outside at Café Borrone.  It's pushing 70°F, and I'm pushing this meteorological oddity into the back of my mind.  More than a warm spell, almost a warm month.  Pleasant in an apocalyptic sort of way.  Light chitchat about family history with some old friends, with someone mentioning Marlou, someone who never knew her.  But had heard, heard she was quite a person.  I am hearing nothing now, tears rising Read more [...]


I am swearing, cursing, denouncing myself because...well, this is where the story becomes thin.  I have dropped something.  In this case, an envelope intended for the for the letterbox beside me.  Fortunately the Netflix DVD that just fell from my hands has slipped into a space between a leg of the postal box and a bolt anchoring the thing to the sidewalk.  The envelope is wedged there, standing upright.  This makes it easy to grasp.  Minimal bending from the wheelchair, Read more [...]


I could feel the slightest jab of nausea this morning, rolling out to my van.  Cancer?  Or just nerves?  Nervous about what?  One of those mornings when action precedes consciousness, when something must be done more than felt.  That coupled with a deadline.  And the unknown.  A nine o'clock meeting on the Stanford campus.  Imagine, an entire university just over the back fence, as it were, and after 30 years I can barely find my way around.  Coupled with Read more [...]


San Francisco's Fourth Street is a work in progress, but pretty fast work as urban development goes, and I'm making good progress myself on this particular day, heading from the Caltrain station toward the center of town.  Until something stops me.  A man, an old one, though doubtless younger than I am, is having trouble with his trousers.  He is trudging in the same direction as I am, his legs wobbling, but with great determination.  The only problem being the length of nylon Read more [...]