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I was never my job. Not the heroes I saw in movies. Or players on those championship teams I rooted for. I did not build the majestic bridges and magnificent buildings I visited. The cities and gardens I took so much pride in were there with me or without me I did not design the incredible cars I drove. I do not know what makes them go. I wasn’t on the moon. I could only purchase or admire. Gifted design was never mine. Just borrowed from someone with better taste. I thought

The Day Michael Died I tried to have a talk with God today. Michael died. I was driving a crooked road, winding and tooling down a mighty hill, descending to the Columbia River, on an overcast day in east Oregon, hundreds of miles away and hours after as it turns out. I’d just called him you see. I hadn’t talked to Michael for a while. I may have left a message. I may have not. I missed him you see, wanted to hear his voice, his laugh, to share some things that wer

Like many Angelinos watching events downtown June 8th, I feel helpless and dismayed. As a progressive liberal I have a sense of fear and nausea, the same sickening panic when I’m watching my football team being manhandled by a superior opponent, just before the final hammer comes down. As Chick Hearn profoundly and famously understood, at some point a game goes into the fridge. Are we in the fridge? Do the forces that have tired of democracy have us in a headlock? Is our col