Damned if I wasn’t out on the deck talking to an old friend from my days in gun control, when a fit of sneezing consumed me. My nose began flowing rather torrentially. My mind went to the logical villain, seasonal grass pollens. And then Jane sent me a text on her way home from work. Did I know about the health advisory? Fires from 100 miles away had finally delivered their smoke to San Francisco. I closed all doors, turned on the air circulation and hoped that the filter would catch much of Read more [...]

Ah, what a relief to finally complete one small bit of writing…a chapter in my so-called book…allowing me to now hit the blog trail. Yes, it’s hard to do the discursive, free-for-all narrative that constitutes blogging, when hanging over your head is That Which Must Be Done. Well, it is done. And I am done with worrying about things for the day. No, I’m not. But it sounded good for a second. I’m not worrying about writing, for once, which makes room for mortality. Too many people have Read more [...]

I am not sure how to add it all up, the slow turbulence that has followed the death of my cousin Bob. But whatever can be said, I have uncharacteristically grown to accept my moods. And even learned a thing or two. When I met him, I was 22 years old and only six months out of protracted hospitalization. It was summer, my stamina still low, and I was shellshocked and implausibly visiting Britain for a few months. I vaguely knew of these London relatives. I had the phone number of one of them, Lotte Read more [...]

One of my British cousins has made a fortuitously timed visit to these shores. As another mutual cousin lies dying. All in our early seventies, very early if anyone wants to know, and it’s come to this. Where it comes for everyone. Bob’s cancer and slow death has been a sad preoccupation for the last year or more. And now he is far away in some Catholic hospice in western Paris, and capable of humor as recently as last week. And I already miss him. With loss in the air, cousin Sandy and I Read more [...]

What is there to say about day four with a beat-up face, except hallelujah. That’s right, and that was exactly my response upon wandering out of my massage guy’s office and spotting an old copy of The Nation. Here it is. Naomi Klein is a master, and she says this much better than I. https://www.thenation.com/article/daring-to-dream-in-the-age-of-trump/ And there I was on the fourth floor of a San Francisco office building that caters to small-time healers, teachers, consultants and software Read more [...]

Don’t cut off your nose to spite your face, they always say. And they…and we won’t quibble about who ‘they’ are…have an excellent point. These are words to live by. Which I’m currently doing, right this very minute. When your nose has some miscreant basal cells growing near its tip, damn straight, they’ve got to go. Lock them up, I say. Even better, cut them off. Without a cent. About time they made it on their own. Someone makes an appointment with a dermatologist, and this Read more [...]