Columnists

I can't help but wonder how the brave new high-tech world we

When I was a kid in Danville back in the mid-1970s, I saw my dad putting bricks in all the toilet tanks in the house to help do our part during the drought. I remember sections of cracked earth in the back of our house, with crevices so deep I imagined if I pulled one away, I might get to see clear to China. I remember the gas shortage that resulted in us running out of gas in the behemoth of a Suburban and literally coasting into the driveway of the gas station to take our place at the end of the snaking line while Jackson Browne’s “Running on Empty” played over the radio.

Last December in this column, I laid down the Clouds Rest Challenge. I invited readers to join me on a tough 13.2-mile hike from Tenaya Lake (8,150 feet) to the top of Clouds Rest (9,926 feet), an iconic Yosemite peak. Back then, the July 13, 2013 date of the Challenge was a long way off. Not anymore.

Wilder Ranch State Park is two state parks in one. Just north of Santa Cruz, Highway One divides this state park into two distinctly different landscapes. Coastside, the Ohlone Bluff Trail traces a twisting path along the crest of seaside cliffs. A fog free sunset here would surely send poets into a creative frenzy guaranteed to empty their inkwells.

Summer vacation is already half over; woe is me! I love

It's that time of the year again when employees receive their W2

The magnificent music of Broadway for a Broadway musical lover is mesmerizing and enthralling. Brilliant music and clever lyrics tell a story that can stir the senses and take you to another place.

MORE than 60 years since its original opening on Broadway, director Kenneth Kelleher presents a strong, fresh, moving production of “The Death of a Salesman” with a superb cast. He wrings every bit of emotion from his actors, impacting the audience by making them feel like they’re part of playwright Arthur Miller's story.

It’s next to me, the textured binding is tattered, the stamped, indented cover title “Willie” on the orange background has scribbled black crayon on it courtesy of my younger brother – boy I was mad about that at the time. But now, it’s just added to the history. Inside the jacket cover in my mother’s practically perfect in every way handwriting are my name, 5 Maple Ave. and phone, 325-9211. The book came to me as a birthday or Christmas present in 1966. It’s a first edition, and through the care of my mother who boxed it when I flew from the nest for college and beyond, it survived.