Emma and I Share a Few Moments

I am a member of the baby boomer generation where TV has been a steady presence since Day 1.  Thousands of black and white images must have flickered across my retina in the early sixties, imparting who knows what subliminal messages to my impressionable mind.  In 1961 speech, Newton Minnow, the Federal Communications Commissioner, memorably characterized TV as a “vast wasteland,” consisting of game shows, Westerns, and unrealistic family dramas.  But I just loved the wasteland.   And then in 1964, the feminist Betty Friedan weighed in with an article in TV Guide, titled “TV and the Feminine Mystique, in which she stated that TV represented the American woman as “stupid, unattractive and insecure, silently suffering through the stifling life of a full time homemaker.”  Friedan was referring to domestic dramas such as “Leave it to Beaver,” “Fathers Knows Best,” or the “Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet” where the dutiful wife bustles around doing drudgy domestic chores, waiting for the moment when the husband returns from some nameless job, flings open the door and says, “Hi Honey, I’m home!”  Continue reading

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Podcast: My Life in Song

My frustrations in being the only non-singer in a musical family.

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Clean Plate Club Murder Mystery: Chapter 46

I sat in the car to regroup.  I sure could’ve used a session with Ralph and Fanny and some white boards, but I didn’t want to keep driving back and forth to Santa Teresa.  Besides, I had to be realistic; the car was basically my office.  I couldn’t imagine how my father functioned as a PI without a cell phone and internet access.  The miles he must have put on his car.  Just as I was dictating my notes from the depressing interview with the downtrodden Carla, a call came in from Jimmy with an update on downtrodden Henry.  He told me the police essentially had nothing, just barely enough for a warrant and since the car was gone, they didn’t even have enough to bring him in for questioning.  He had dropped Henry off and told him not to the police without him present, in fact not to talk to anyone – a concept that Henry found hard to believe since he kept on insisting that he hadn’t done anything.  I briefed him on my meeting with Carla, and my growing certainty of the relationship between all the principles in this case, particularly that Henry might have been keeping company with Sylvia, who was now probably keeping company with Dessa and Goddard. Continue reading

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Podcast: A Horse of Course

A study of how rumors start, propagate and endure, using Catherine the Great’s supposed equine predilections as a case study.

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A Horse of Course

I have a pretty clear memory of when I first heard the story.  It was about 40 years ago, and I was sitting in the college dining hall.  Since it was the beginning of my freshman year, I was joined by a group of classmates whom I did not know well.  One of the guys said, “Hey did you hear about Catherine the Great?”  I had a vague awareness of the Russian Empress but knew nothing specific about her.  “Did you know that she used to have sex with a….”  Now I don’t want to go for cheap shock value here, and would like to be somewhat discreet, so all I will say is that apparently Catherine slept with, hmm, let’s see, well let’s say that she slept with Mr. Ed.  And then another guy chipped in, “Yes, and I also heard that’s how she died, Mr. Ed fell on top of her and crushed her.” Continue reading

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Clean Plate Club Murder Mystery: Chapters 44-45

Chapter 44

We both climbed into the car, mutely put on our seat belts, and I was about to turn on the ignition when Simba grabbed my arm.  “Will you listen to Dessa’s message for me?” she said, “I’m too nervous, if she says that she never wants to see me again, all this won’t have been worth it.  I think that I would just go back up the canyon and gut it out with Sam.”

“Simba, I think that you have to listen to the message, but when you listen to it is up to you.  Listen to it later after you had some rest and can think more clearly.   But regardless, I don’t think that it is a good idea to go back to Sam’s house.  I’ll take you back to Henry’s, get some sleep and then start fresh.”

Simba slid back into her seat and closed her eyes, but as I wove through traffic I could see her fingering her cell phone.  Finally she said in a whisper, “Would you mind pulling over, I think that I have to listen to the message now.  Would you mind if I put it on speaker?”

I nodded my head and turned into the Safeway parking lot.  Suddenly for the first time, I heard Dessa’s soft voice.  “Hello Simba, this is Dessa.  I was really surprised to get your phone call because I don’t know how you got my number, but I guess that shows that you are really trying and serious about our relationship.  So thank you.  I’m not sure if you are worried about Goddard, but he is here with me – so I’m telling you just in case, and also it has been good for me, because we are working through some things together.  We are both fine and staying with a friend of Goddard’s.  I know that we need to talk together sometime soon, but I am not ready yet.  My friend Penny told me many things about my family, at least what I thought was my family, but I didn’t want to believe her.  It was very confusing, but then she died and I got very scared.   I’ve been told that the police would like to question me about her death, but I really don’t know anything that would be helpful.  Goddard says that you are probably working with this woman named Liza Blue, and that she’s okay, so that’s good.  But I am throwing this telephone away now.  I need to meet you on my terms and you’ll just have to wait for me to get in touch.  I’m fine where I am, and I’m safe.”  There was a slight pause, and then she whispered, “I’m scared of Dad.  Be careful.”  And then the phone clicked.

“Why do you think that she called my Simba, and not Mom?  And if she is calling me Simba, why didn’t she call her father Sam?  Instead she called him Dad.  Do you think that means that she knows that I am not her birth mother, but that Sam is her real father?  Do you think that she’s with her birth mother?  Did she sound like she was mad at me or just disappointed, but she did say that she appreciated my efforts, so that’s good isn’t it?”

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Podcast: Slipping out of the Demographic

At age 60, I have slipped out of advertisers’ preferred demographic, but I am not ready to join another.

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Slipping Out of the Demographic

For the past month of September I have been enjoying a daily bowl of raspberries, harvested from the bushes along our screened porch.  A previous essay nattered on about the beauty of raspberries, and positioned the seeds and thorny bushes as only minor annoyances that could not diminish their perfection.  But enough about me, a better story is about one of nature’s many ingenious solutions to seed dispersal – attractively packaging the indigestible seed in a luscious, brightly colored fruit that is then defecated.  Well, okay, this strategy is more effective for birds and bears than for suburbanites, but the basic fact is that from the raspberry’s evolutionary point of view, fruit is nothing more disposable advertising, and I am delighted to be the willing pawn in this scheme.  That is not the case with another form of seed dispersal, pretentiously called epizoochory, which basically describes seeds with little hooks on them that attach to your fur (or clothing), an idea co-opted by the clever folks at Velcro.  The other day I came in from gardening covered with hundreds of minute seeds embedded in my shirt and pants.  The clothes sat in a crumpled mass on my floor until I realized that extracting the seeds was the perfect multi-tasking activity while I stood in multiple airport lines as I headed toPhoenix.  I plucked and deposited seeds in the airport van, in the security line (where one seed accidentally got stuck on the suit jacket of the man in front of me), a few got lost in the airplane itself, in the Super Shuttle van in Phoenix, and the last few went down the drain at my final destination in Scottsdale.  I was the dream seed dispersal agent for my unassuming back yard weed.

 

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Clean Plate Club Murder Mystery: Chapter 43

Simba didn’t say a word and my mind raced.  What evidence could Grimes have put together since yesterday?  No judge would grant a search warrant based on a partial match of a license plate.  He must have come up with additional evidence, some sort of relationship between Penny and Henry, and I didn’t even have that nailed down yet, it was still conjecture on my part.  Grimes wasn’t due to talk with Penny’s mom Carla Piccinini until tomorrow, so that left Sam, Johnny Knox, or maybe Dessa or Sylvia.  Sam was the most likely candidate given his hatred of Henry, but he claimed he didn’t know anything about Penny during his last interview with Grimes.  But of course he could have been lying; maybe Simba’s interest in getting custody of Chloe prompted him to rat out Henry.  Johnny Knox was also a possibility, either on his own initiative, or based on Sam’s orders.  And it just didn’t make any sense for Dessa or Sylvia to be involved if they were still laying low. Continue reading

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Podcast: Raspberries Aplenty

In praise of raspberries, the perfect fruit, and in praise of my opposable thumbs that allow me to pick them.

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