A wedding damps our cynicism, lights some inner circuit, the kind we had as kids and then lost.
White Fang will wait at the kitchen door, expecting us to call her into the backseat, so she can come along for the ride.
The Oregon Coast reminds me that the best way to fall in love is a little at a time, not all at once.
Never met a college campus I didn’t love – the ivy, the idealism, the aura, the opportunity.
At one point in Field of Dreams, the hero’s dad returns for a game of catch. Silly thing to base a movie around. Jeeeesh.
This is how we ended up eating live sea urchin, in the place they call “The Bu.”
I’ve always told my son: “Love is like Salisbury steak. You don’t see it much anymore. But you know it’s still out there somewhere.”
There’s rhubarb in the markets now, and the blueberries are all kinds of ripe.
“The cure for anything is salt water": Gloom till noon, sun by 1.
Malibu is hard evidence that the California dream lives on, even as it crumbles like cornflakes down the sandstone bluffs.