I wasn’t sure how I would feel being back in Athens. It is a place of such emotional contrasts for me — its wonderful history and the warmth of the Greeks alongside the tragedy that comes with a collapsed economy, not to mention the heat and pollution of summer. But arriving in Athens on Wednesday, I felt a sweet familiarity. Athens was a partner during the life-changing time I was here among a community of refugees. Continue reading
In 1963, President John F Kennedy expressed solidarity with the people of Berlin by stating “Ich bin ein Berliner.” Depending on how strictly you apply the rules of German grammar (which Germans apply quite strictly), this means either “I am a Berliner” or “I am a jelly donut.” In spite of this cute faux pas, no one ever confused JFK or any other American president with pastry. I know what you are thinking but Cheetos are not really pastry.
You should plan to get all the way through this posting because the ending is worth waiting for. But here is the beginning. I am in Paris, which would be heaven all by itself but I am in Paris with Avery and Bella. Who are Bella and Avery? If you don’t actually know them, you just need to know they are 12-year old girls with wildly different personalities who are nevertheless fully sync-ed with each other pretty much all the time. Continue reading
I have so far been pretty good about staying away from topics related to The Elephant in Every Room, no reflection on real elephants. Many others are presenting analysis, opinion and humor that is way better than anything I could write. But I need to pile on because, at this point, I am scared shitless about the evolving friendships of our Racist Narcissist Liar-in-Chief.
Wyoming is cowboy country. Yeah, we all know that but being here puts an exclamation point on the concept. And speaking of punctuation marks, lifelong friend, Sarah, and I are here for a six-day writing retreat with author Page Lambert and a dozen other people who, in this part of the country, would be called “dudes.” We all came to write but, since you can do that pretty much anywhere, we also came for the horses, knowing they would be a huge distraction. Continue reading
Growing up in greater Los Angeles (it’s greater than San Berdoo, I guess), I lived near communities that were Chicano, Latino, Hispanic and cholo, so I felt a special kind of nostalgia seeing dozens of low riders lead yesterday’s Carnaval parade in San Francisco’s Mission District. Continue reading
I have always wished I had the intellectual acuity to read In Search of Lost Time, the 4,000 page novel by Marcel Proust about, er, refer to the book title. And this easy-to-read article: https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/tldr-prousts-in-search-of-lost-time_us_559e8cb1e4b0967291558d31. One of these days, I will commit. In the meantime, I am happy enough with Proust’s wonderful observation about travel:
“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.”
I have been nomadic for most of the past three years, and some days I don’t know where I will be next month. Since I don’t have a home, I am forced to decide where to land on a continuing basis. My friend Emily asked me at lunch the other day how I decide where to go. And I guess I make decisions the same way most travelers do — except more often. Continue reading