I blame Victor Hugo. He is the reason for thousands of dollars spent, absence at family reunions, wear and tear of jet lag, and a penchant for daydreaming at work. He is the reason I adore Paris so much. My love affair began in the pages of Les Miserables, that 19th century Romantic novel of …
If I had known Balzac was going to cause me this much trouble, I would not have bothered. Maybe this was payback for all the crude jokes I had made at his name’s expense. After a 45 minute metro ride to the sleepy 16th arrondissement in a sweltering 108 degree heat with a screaming sore …
Sweat poured down my brow and my back in self-conscious trickles. Wide eyes glared straight at the reddening rosacea on my cheeks. My brain felt foggy, my heart leaped into my throat, and my stomach flipped. Was that pungent pit odor mine? Could they hear the crack in my voice? The fifteen students and faculty …
Well, that was fun. Like almost piddle-in-your-pants, slap-your-neighbor’s-knee kind of fun. I’m talking about The Improvised Shakespeare performance we saw last Friday night at the Herbst Theater in San Francisco. Just to set the stage (pun intended), I teach Shakespeare, I have Shakespeare art on my home and office walls, I’ve led Shakespeare tours in …
Continue reading The Improvised Shakespeare in San Francisco
Sinking into the oval wicker chair, I took the first sip of Kir Royal, the Champagne and Crème de Cassis cocktail famously known as the welcome drink in France. Amidst the rolling tones of Edith Piaf, pearls of pink bubbles danced on my tongue tickling the throat so much that I could easily swallow my …
Continue reading The City that Drinks and Thinks: A Tasting of Litquake San Francisco
“I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot.” Jack London 1916 On a long-shadowed October morning, Eric and I crunched our way up the fallen-leaf trail to Jack London’s grave site in Glen Ellen, California. The …
The Steinbeck Museum in Salinas California changed my life. That’s right, I said it. Let me explain. I had been teaching night and weekend classes as a part-timer at De Anza College for five years and could never get the elusive and coveted full-time tenured position I had dreamed of for so long. So in …
“I was conceived on the 3rd floor of this building,” she says, her crinkly finger pointing to the North Beach apartment above what is now a hipster coffee shop. P. Segal is the closest thing to a living, breathing bohemian Beatnik I have ever met – a stout San Franciscan writer of Sicilian descent who …
The land is constantly speaking to us. As I look over San Francisco Bay, I am reminded that there is so much more underneath the surface than I am aware of. As I feel socked in by chilling fog, I know that at any minute, the sun can come out and the world smiles …
“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” Howard Thurman
