First Morning, San Diego
I’m writing with a pen lifted from the Mark Spencer Hotel in downtown Portland. I’m writing on an oblong table in a large breezeway room at the in-laws in San Diego – out in the County, some 13 miles from the Pacific Ocean and the edge of the continent. I’m writing this down in a…
Here’s a Day – Irvine
Repetition breeds familiarity, and familiarity breeds, what? – Comfort? In other words, is there comfort in a butt-and-back-worn seat on a Greyhound Bus? Like the one I’d taken from Boston to San Fran. Just tell the story. Now a month on my friend Bob’s couch, and having struck out in my lofty job search for…
Dumb Luck
Early in August in 1982 I left my apartment in Salem, Massachusetts and a three-year part-time Sports Editor and high school stringer job with the Newburyport Daily News some 30 miles away and dragged one suitcase and all my dreams onto a Greyhound bus in downtown Boston. I had stored two large trash bags of…