Yes, Edward Parone owned some celebrity and great respect from many in the world of entertainment — something I never knew until much later in our friendship. But he retired from all of that. His choice of retirement venue said it all — an unremarkable old adobe casita among a few other old adobes on a large ranch in Nambe, New Mexico.
I can’t help but wonder if we take on petty causes — as if the world were ending — because our real challenges are so large, that petty is the best we can do.
I don’t believe in the phrase “color blindness.” To imagine my life without the colors of my friends and associates, without other venues of religious faith, without other world visions, without other cultural behaviors, would make my world so absolutely beige. I don’t like beige. It would be like eating plain mashed potatoes every night. Blech! I want yuzu sauces, curry, smoked paprika, and chili peppers with my parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.
The seven deadly sins? Well, yes. Are we not trying to improve the basics in our life and cease and desist with at least one of the deadly seven: pride, envy, anger, sloth, greed, gluttony and lust?
When I thought about this annual listing of how I can become better person in 2015, every improvement linked to one of the seven.
All this magnificence everywhere, yet we find ways to desecrate the poor, the under privileged and less fortunate. Is this how human projectile shards shatter the inner sanctum of their circumferential beginning and seek to destroy as they develop?
But something went terribly wrong. On Tuesday morning, September 11, 2001, horror stuck America. I asked, “Should I cancel the fundraiser?” The resounding reply was, “No! If ever we needed to do something good, and enjoy our country’s harvest, we need a day in your orchard. Keep the event!”
For the short time I spent with Watson on Saturday, I’d call him a good person who draws crowds like a magnet—and that’s before they hear his incredible story of his willful determination as an 18-year-old on June 6, 1944.
When I watched my fellow citizens torment the three stalled buses on a two-lane road, my maternal instincts questioned, “Don’t they know that there are children in those buses?”
Author’s note: This is a serendipitous story of wine, friends, daughter, and spices— a camerata (experimenting with art form) if you will. (The aria, “Song of India,” from Sadko plays in the background.) Tell me the last time that you tasted wines paired with exotic spices. You have done this? What happened when you paired a chalky Chenin Blanc with three freshly ground peppers? Did you make a slight scene when you shouted, “OMG! What was that mouth explosion?” I did. It […]
As seen in The Cambrian When the Colby fire near Glendora, Ca. exploded, I watched the sienna-tinted smoke plume darken a bright blue sky. I was about 250 miles north of the January wildfire, returning home on U.S. Route 395. Cal Fire officials warned that extreme red flag conditions were in effect throughout much of California—in January—usually one California’s wettest months. Little has improved since the Colby fire. As I drive along California State Route 1, the Monterey Pine forest tempts that red […]