Back to Mill Valley

First time in years I was back out there to watch Julia's soccer game. Afterwards, I called Missoula to wish Aidan happy birthday. Can't believe the guy is now 20!

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Saturday Here and There

Julia and I went shopping at Ross and found new shoes and boots for her. Now she is taking her pet rats to get their first checkups.

Out in Missoula, here is Dylan wearing the colors of his college team, which has their first home football game today.

Though I am not an uncritical fan of football, because I do not like the violence, there is nothing quite like the campus spirit shared on football Saturdays. I remember this from my years at another U-M, and I'm happy for my sons and Zaira to experience it for the first time today.

But today's events also epitomize the difference of what you end up doing with your daughters, as opposed to your sons.

I'd like to imagine a world where gender differences didn't matter, but I'm not sure that day will, or actually should, ever come.

For me, I get as much pleasure shopping with my daughters as watching sports with my sons. Mostly, it's how they react -- their smiles. That's all I care about.

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Little Friday Night Domestic Details

As the sun set in the west tonight, I asked my daughter what she wanted for dinner. She chose spaghetti.

So this is the first time I have cooked that meal since her brother Dylan moved away two and a half weeks ago.

Dylan loved my spaghetti. So did many of his friends, who stayed over here on many Friday nights. I figure I have cooked it at least 600 times in this flat. The dish has evolved over the years but it's pretty basic stuff, as anyone knows.

What I didn't know until tonight is whether I would still be cooking it going forward. I had the ingredients on hand. Julia made the choice.

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Happy Labor Day

With all the work at the back of my house, old files have started to surface. Aidan lifted 16 or so boxes of papers from the laundry room to the back hallway, where of course what used to be at the bottom of a pile came newly to the top.

Above are some pages from my FBI file, obtained under the Freedom of Information Act when I was at Rolling Stone in the '70s.

These pages concern my time with SunDance magazine. That we were being spied upon was not lost on us at the time -- thus my FOIA request for the proof.

What is most striking about these old files is how mundane the information was -- mostly just who came and went from our office on Fillmore Street.

***

It's 68 degrees in SF, 57 in Missoula. The workers hammer and buzz away next door, as that construction project seems endless. Otherwise this neighborhood is silent, between Burning man and holiday getaways, the streets seem empty. I've been watering my neighbors' many plants as they are traveling.

I'd hoped my daughter might visit but no luck. I guess she is caring for her new pet rats. I miss my boys. The Giants have won five straight. The Mud Lake Mafia has risen to sixth place. I had scrambled eggs for breakfast. It's garbage pickup tomorrow -- I've moved the blue recycling bin and the black garbage bin to the curb. But not the green compost bin -- it's not full enough.

If I had the energy I could easily fill it with the fallen apples strewn throughout my backyard. I think I'll watch baseball instead.

Life's mundane details -- just like back in 1971 when the FBi was watching. Who's watching now? The NSA? I could have cared less then and I could care less now. I'm just a harmless old man passing time as he pleases, or at least as it presents itself to me. I would prefer some company, perhaps a BBQ, some activity. Then again, working so hard at my age (ten hour days at least) is taking a toll, so it's probably best to have a quiet weekend alone.

Happy Holiday everyone, or rather anyone who might read these words. My audience is miniscule since I took this thing private. Mainly I write now just for myself.

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Sunshine Garden Sunday Morning

It's so quiet here today. The neighborhood empties out during Burning Man, of course, and many others go out of town for the long holiday weekend.

It's hot. There's no breeze.

I'm about to turn on the overhead fan. In a bit I'll watch the Giants game on TV.

My rent goes up $118/month starting tomorrow. Money. It comes and goes like the flowers.

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Life

I had the first long telephone talks with my boys in Missoula today and they both sound very good. Ten days ago, they moved from this west coast city to a college town in the mountains. It has to be disorienting, but they seem to be adapting pretty well so far.

We talked about their classes (they like them), their dorm rooms (they like them), the cafeteria food ("pretty good"), the weather ("hot but will get cold soon, people say"), their finances (okay), meeting new people (slow but sure), and the town ("it's nice.")

The huge hole they have left back here is filled with our excitement about their new life out there. I told them our small news -- that the work on my flat is done and that their little sister may get to adopt a new pet rat soon, and we discussed sports.

God, how I miss those guys. I know as a parent you're not supposed to let it happen, but they became my best friends over recent years. We always followed the Giants together and discussed the issues of the day.

I did bring up how much I miss them but I also made it clear I am happy they are thriving out there.

At times like this it would be nice to have a partner. Yesterday at a meeting at work with two young colleagues, one a 30ish single man and the other a 25ish married woman, they both pointed out to me that given how I have been working a 60-hour week for a year now, with no days off, maybe it's a good thing that there is no wife at home to complain about how little I am around.

This in the context of how much they appreciate me as their boss.

I smiled and said, "No worry about that. After my experiences with women, especially the ones that left me, I'll never make the mistakes of having a partner again."

The woman told me, "Never say never, David."

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Quake

Either a 6.0 or a 6.1 earthquake rumbled through the Bay Area overnight, waking up Julia, Ghoasty, Pumpkin and me around 3:30 a.m. The cats ran for cover. Julia said it's the first earthquake she's ever felt.

I started communicating about our coverage with colleagues. The quake was centered north of here, near the wine town of Napa. Within 20 minutes, we had blog coverage and within an hour, live radio newscasts.

For the next eight hours, I was part of a small team of us who live within easy distance of the station coordinating our coverage. One thing you do not want to do during a crisis situation is to frighten people or carelessly pass on rumors.

You do not want to exaggerate injuries, physical damage, or danger. The main challenge is to try and stay calm, avoid falling for rumors, and wait for official confirmation before you report *anything*.

I have to say it helps to be a veteran at times like this. My old friend and colleague, Scott Shafer, also lives close to KQED and rushed in to play the role of on-air anchor.

As much as some like to vilify media people, and craft conspiracy theories about how we are somehow biased, what we really try to do is serve the public and our specific audiences the best we can -- on all stories.

First, we don't make things up. Second, we try to verify whatever we tell you. Third, no matter what our political, religious, or personal beliefs, we do our level best to eliminate those from what we broadcast over TV, radio, or the Internet.

In other words, we try very hard to not have an agenda.

If that sounds like a veteran journalist talking, it is. I've been doing this work since I was 18 years and 9 months old. That would be for half a century if I can make it to next January.

On days like today, I am truly proud of my profession. We take lots of hits from all sides ideologically, but truly we try to do our best.

After all, when a natural disaster hits, none of that other stuff (ideology, race, sex, age, sexual orientation, wealth, and so on) really matters all that much, do they? Maybe those are the only times we all have the opportunity to remember we are all just people and we are all in this together.

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