San Francisco, March 1976 On the morning after I moved into my apartment on Ashbury, wet snow dropped over parts of San Francisco, mostly on Portrero Hill, the boyhood neighborhood of O. J. Simpson. It was an event I was not alone in believing could never take place. Waiting for
Is It Always a Love Story? Chapter One On the day I came home from the war — a phrase still tossed around like iceberg lettuce in the cultural salad, in spite of its saturation — the shock was not unexpected. Both the country that sent me and a
November 22, 1963 I generally enjoyed Miss Izak’s class, brightened as it was by her effervescence, even though I was failing, just as I’d previously failed Latin. Gene, a born smart ass, and Billy, his frequent target, were involved in something silly in front of me, and I was
Holy Shit Christmas Eve, snow finally fell from an infinitely gray overcast, hovering since dawn and hanging motionless into the afternoon. Still coming down hard after dark, it resolved the village below us in a pinkish haze, a fog-shrouded pool with fuzzy streetlights struggling to pierce through. There was
Past Life Regressions Advanced meditators and others who believe they’ve had out of body experiences — OBE’s — give us useful insights into the spiritual side of being alive on Earth, but while what they share is intriguing, the insights are neither complete nor sure to inform us about life
In Binghamton, March 1966 Here is what finally became of Ginny or, I should say, the parallel paths we once shared, then separated.
Keeping Billy Alive Dread settled around me when the young resident veterinarian led Deborah and me into a room larger and, in some odd way, more somber than the examining rooms we were used to. We were already sad about Billy’s being so sick. This felt sadder.