Jane seemed a little surprised to find herself heading south on I 280 this morning. I felt a bit that way myself. In fact, what really surprised me, if anything, was how soon Black Mountain Road appears on the freeway. Damned if Santa Clara doesn’t move itself just a slight bit northwest. And then there it is, the MobilityWorks garage near San Jose Airport. I have a chat with the mechanic. I urge Jane to take part in this, but she declines. The whole thing has me slightly paranoid, for what Read more [...]

With this I offer a title that reminds me of Herb Caen, a columnist in the now almost defunct San Francisco Chronicle, who once wrote breezy pieces full of unconnected anecdotes, heavy on atmospherics of this hilly town. And there’s the Mamas and Papas‘ song of the same name, which could be described as just as breezy, and of the same era. Which happens to be my era. And otherwise, who cares? I do care about what comes back to me from that time. Because memory is highly selective and creates Read more [...]