It’s 2020. This month marks four years since we put our Rainey to sleep. I wrote this four years ago. This is the third in a series of posts from a now defunct blog. I started the series in July of that year as it seemed that we were on the verge of losing our …
It’s 2020. This week marks four years since we put our Rainey to sleep. I wrote this four years ago. This is the second of a series of posts from a now defunct blog. I started the series in July of that year as it seemed that we were on the verge of losing our …
It’s 2020. This week marks four years since we put our Rainey to sleep. I wrote this four years ago, the first of a series of posts in a now defunct blog. I started the series in July of that year as it seemed that we were on the verge of losing our girl. I …
The past few months have been a slog, a deep depression. A little gloomy at first and worsening as the days, weeks and months progressed. August arrived in cheerless desolation. It’s been a descent with no rise in sight. Of course the prime suspect would be COVID-19 but it hasn’t been so much the virus …
Are we operating on the two nonsensical theories that the coronavirus respects borders or that people won’t get into their cars to go get services not available in their communities?
It’s been only months but it seems like decades since you could sit in a restaurant, see the unmasked smile on the server’s face, sit at a communal table or graze from a buffet.
My San Francisco is a series of posts that describes my own personal relationship with The City. My San Francisco pieces might be photo essays; they might be life stories or they could be commentaries. They might be a combination of some or all three. My impressions aren’t always paeans to San Francisco; it’s a …
Reminiscences of San Francisco’s Little Italy, from the beats to the eats to America’s longest running play.
“My dad taught me everything I know. Unfortunately he didn’t teach me everything he knows.” ~ Al Unser. “When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had …
Consider this my RSVP. I won’t be attending the celebration. That shouldn’t come as a big surprise to those who know me, particularly my wife. To say that I’ve never been a big party person is a gross understatement. When I was still working, many were the times when I would stay at my desk …
The Life in My Years 