Happy new year! From a crotchety and grateful old man.
I don’t automatically care all that much about New Year’s Eve. I’m not much of a drinker, and I get queasy if I’m not in bed by about 3:00 AM, so not a… Continue reading
Monthly Archive: December, 2014
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My Day In Court, Practicing Nonviolence
“Appear in court on December 26,” they said. So I cut my family’s Christmas short to be back in Oakland, security-screened by 9:00 this morning. I try not to predict the future, but… Continue reading
Finding gold in memory
We were looking for trees, and Columbia State Park had a positive feeling in my mind. We parked and went looking for the trailhead, but instead found old mining equipment, troughs of water,… Continue reading
Puppy’s barbershop, Cuba
“Puppy’s Barbershop:You’re ugly when you arrive, but you’re handsome when you leave.” My eyes wandered from the handmade sign, past photos of a younger Puppy, along the fuchsia bicycle with a handmade… Continue reading
Protest Part Five: weary, wary, and working together
I was guilty of the thing I loathe: letting the misbehavior of a few drown out the positive actions of the many, but when I got home from another night of protest last… Continue reading
Buckets of vodka and breasts like weapons
I was young until I went to Ko Phi Phi. I was young with cups of čai on Turkish wharves, and the same when I danced in Lithuanian discotheques. But faced with buckets… Continue reading
Protest Night Four: What now?
I had my perception of the Oakland protests. Night One: people upset over the state of race relations in our country, and police impunity in reflecting it, demonstrated in the streets with… Continue reading
There are worse things than having been racist
The contractor was measuring the ceiling in my lady’s house when he noticed he’d tracked dog poo all over the kitchen floor. It was awkward, but he helped clean it up, cleaned his… Continue reading
Campeche nights, snakes and ebola
August afternoons in southern Mexico are punishing, but when the sun goes down off the coast of Campeche, the air takes on an apologetic softness to reward you for surviving the broiler hours.… Continue reading
