Daybreak Over a Wired City

Every season has its points. Here, on this slender peninsula reaching out toward Marin, surrounded on three sides by the mighty Pacific and the huge San Francisco Bay, our best sunrises and sunsets occur in winter, when the sun arcs across the southern sky.



Free wireless has not yet come to San Francisco, despite the efforts of our Mayor and several tech giants. But overhead wires abound here.



Ever wonder who else reads a blog like this one? Who knows, but there are usually 50-100 visitors a day from all over the world. Since almost nobody ever clicks on the ad units, however, the blogger makes no money at all. In previous years, we took in $100 every now and again, but no longer. At this rate, it will take seven more years before I get my next check!



That makes me think again about the ad-supported media model. Would you visit me if there were a micro-charge, say 25 cents per visit? That model is one that has not yet been developed, but it might help small business people (like me) create some revenue from our intellectual labor.

Regardless, this hole in my back yard fence went unnoticed for a long while, because the bamboo proliferating on both sides of the old, sagging, redwood unit is so thick that not even the cats choose to use this opening as their passage.

Apologies to Robert Frost, in his most brilliant cynical moment, but if "good fences make good neighbors," bamboo forests make better neighbors out of all of us.



Brother on brother. Here is my 13-year-old trying to teach his younger brother how to play basketball. As a teacher, he is relentless. He never gives up; he never accepts defeatism; he always says, "You can do it!"

The little guy, who turns 12 in April, has two more games this season, and then the JV playoffs. Our shared goal: for him to score a basket. He's taken exactly one shot all season and it just barely missed. That first score will be a moment of triumph, not only for him, but for his big brother, an exceptional athlete, who only wishes for his younger brother to feel the sweetness of even a small athletic success.

The selflessness of both of them breaks my heart, sometimes. They love each other so much; and despite vast differences, are each other's best friend. After months of training by his brother, the little guy actually possesses several wicked offensive weapons, though he may not know it yet.

He can:

* hit a jump shot from the right side close in...
* hit free throws if he ever gets fouled...
* can hold off a defender while dribbling and, with speed, drive for a layup.

I never could have predicted that he could have learned these techniques, but brotherly (and sisterly) love is a force beyond all reason.



The winds were howling tonight on Bernal Hill. Another storm is blowing this peninsula around. Hillsides slide, roads buckle, a strong rain falls sideways.

But inside, all is warm and cozy. The books lining these walls stare down at me, beckoning. "C'mon," they seem to say, "Read me next."

Meanwhile, I say to you: "Please come back. Read me again, soon. Thank you for stopping by."

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