Unless something is done, and soon, one of my favorite places in the world will rapidly become known as the Infernal City.
Unless something is done, and soon, one of my favorite places in the world will rapidly become known as the Infernal City.
When I told the guy at Fleet Feet—a store for runners, hikers, bicyclists, all-around outdoor athletes, and me—that I was buying my new shoes because I was headed to a long weekend in Joshua Tree, he cocked an eyebrow and asked sardonically, “Going to find yourself?”
“All new buildings that are constructed in the city of Sacramento will have to be all-electric by 2026, per a new ordinance passed by the Sacramento City Council,” according to a story early this month in the Sacramento Business Journal by award-winning reporter Felicia Alvarez.
Pandemic-weary parents can be excused for thinking they’d just hopped out of the wok and into the Mongolian barbecue pit.
It’s official: No noose is good news. The city council of the Sierra foothills town of Placerville decided a couple of weeks ago to remove a longstanding graphic from its logo: a hangman’s knotted, lethal loop.
A growing group of activists, mainly Democrats, think Washington, D.C., should be our 51st state. I’m all for it. And while we’re at it, let’s make Puerto Rico #52, Guam #53 and talk to Israel to see if it would be interested in being #54.
The announced closure of a Sears department store in California’s capital ignited my anecdotalometer.
Anecdotalometers are memory triggers: launchpads for flights of remembered fancy.
With at least the beginning of the election upon us—you don’t really think it’ll be over by midnight tomorrow, do you?—it might be a good time to think about how many things have gone haywire recently. One of the under-discussed but potentially economy-disrupting issues is worker attitude.
Hotels are regrouping during the pandemic by promoting the purported nostalgia of family road trips, according to a story in the New York Times. I guess the idea is that you and the whole family are just stir-crazy enough in the confined space of your home to jump into the confined space of your car and go on a long drive, spending your nights enroute in the confined space of motel rooms.
This month marks the 44th anniversary of my seeing Sacramento for the first time. Since I moved here as a partially formed adult—a project that continues, year after year—I had some sense of comparison to other places I’d lived: New York City for my first eight years, Southern California for my subsequent 18. This town is still my fave.