Sometimes I visit the Mission District of San Francisco, where I was born. It’s not the same, and it’s getting worse. Google moved into the
I’ve written on the phenomenon of what happens to many of us who pick up pen and paper to write about our own lives. It
I’m supposed to stay away from the taboos. This is both what my doctor and Michelle recommend. This is a time of rest, they say.
About a week after the breakdown on Christmas day, in a moment of relative calm, I was sitting outside in my pajamas, staring at the
During this winter’s illness, I couldn’t read. It happens every time. The words lift off the page. I could call it lack of concentration, but
There were always books in the house. My father, a mechanic and coal miner, loved history and science. Mom read historical novels and mysteries. Somewhere