A different holiday gift
On one of our recent usual weekend drives to the hills above Fountaingrove, Dad and I were marveling about why we felt so happy and lucky. I looked at him and said, “Maybe it’s because our hearts have...
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Communing with the redwoods
At the head of a long dining table with a white tablecloth and holiday china sits my father, elegant in his new SRJC black fleece vest and snappy red tie, inherited from Bola, his caregiver, who died...
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The hippie and the hero
For over 30 years my personal solution to the world’s immense problems has been meditation: “Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me” was one of the theme songs of the hippie revolution...
View ArticleDriving Mr. Deep Throat
Dad and I had a good conversation the other day while driving, which we do often. Dad calls our trips “exploratory tours.” (And I should tell you that as we’re heading around Sonoma County, we pretend...
View ArticleDrinking in the sweet tonic of Spring
I’m slowly recovering from a miserable bout of winter pneumonia, and am beginning my sixth week away from work. Hopefully, one more week of resting will make me strong enough to handle the...
View ArticleThe clarity of confusion
I think all of us have the tendency to worry or even freeze up when an older person gets confused. It strikes us that something is wrong, or that maybe it’s time for the nursing home. In our household...
View ArticleSpeaking about the unspoken
Recently, my youngest son, Nick, who recently graduated from UC Hastings School of the Law, startled me with a gentle, but urgent, observation: “Mom, I don’t think you’re ready for Grandpa’s death!” He...
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A Christmas conversation
Deep Throat’s Holiday message For as long as I can remember, my father has been sending a Christmas letter to his friends and family every year. In more recent years, he has been dictating the letter...
View ArticleHello world!
Welcome to Press Democrat Blogs. This is your first post. Edit or delete it, then start blogging!
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