It would be way overstating things to suggest that the faregates of BART resemble in any way the gates of hell. But on either side of them, coming or going, there is the definite feel of the fourth canto of Dante’s Inferno, vis-à-vis, purgatory. This is a wonderful city. It is also a city that has seen quite a few upheavals in its brief history. So, one has to be patient. I plan to die here. So might as well make the most of it in the meantime.  And it is a mean time. Taking the bus down Read more [...]

Not only do I fly business class in my 70s, I also have a financial advisor. Isn’t that cool? Why do I feel slightly guilty about this? Well, there is a very good reason. In fact, there are several. The most important is the wealth gap. I like calling it that. I never thought of myself as being on the wealthy side of the wealth gap, but good fortune has shoved me in that direction. Go figure. And while you’re figuring, be extremely grateful. And, in addition, be effective. And that requires Read more [...]

The whole thing had been planned, re-planned, measured and ascertained. Honestly, there was nothing that could go wrong. So, by the time we had sat in the lounge, headed for the gate and then waited outside the aircraft, well, I was getting relaxed. Finally. After all, this had taken months of planning. The process had exhausted me. And Jane. And finally there we were. So, the usual ensued. A couple of guys wrestled me into an aisle chair, one of those very narrow things that wedge a passenger down Read more [...]

It is a panicky moment in the greenhouse when I realize that, yes, the left rear wheel has snagged the hose. To unpack this, my wheelchair’s rear caster has somehow looped itself around the expandable garden hose that sustains my baby lettuce, tomato seedlings and so on. And if this does not seem like an explanation, and the essence is somehow still packed inside the verbiage, what can one do? This is my life. Tiny perils abound. And I believe that a greenhouse should not be perilous. After all, Read more [...]

I think that even the 40 days and 40 nights had a break. Like when did Noah dash out to get two of every kind? Had to be a break. So today was one of those. And this happily coincided with a 2 PM matinee of the San Francisco Symphony. So, who would stay home?  Well, Jane, for one. Not actually home, but down the Peninsula to Menlo Park where her three grandsons reside. If three rambunctious little boys, one year old, three years old, and five years old, can be said to reside anywhere. In Read more [...]

If Beale Street Could Talk…the first thing it would say is that it isn’t Spear Street. And, no, you don’t have to be James Baldwin to know the difference. And not knowing that difference can cost you some time and some distance. It can even throw you into a sort of panic, as it did just yesterday morning, finding me frenzied, anxious and not adequately caffeinated on my way to, you guessed it, an adult-ed class at the San Francisco State University downtown center. You need to get out more, Read more [...]