Columns

The other day, I picked my son up from school and had some errands to run afterward. I also had the baby in the car and we all know what a pain it is to get the littles out of their car seat every time we have to go a store. So I nicely asked my son to run into the post office to mail a folder to my mother-in-law. I handed him a couple of dollars and the folder, expecting him to just hop out of the car and go mail it. Instead, he looked at me like I was crazy. “Mom,” he says. “I don’t know how to mail this. What do I say when I get up to the counter?” Oh my goodness, I’m thinking to myself. Ok, be nice Elizabeth, don’t insult him. I had to handle this situation correctly as it was a very delicate one.

Letter to the community

Sanctuary

Is anybody else confused? My head used to be on straight. The world made sense. Things, as in appliances, telephones, cameras, you-name-it, worked simply and consistently. Now, none of it does.

What do you want for Cloverdale?

How much rain has fallen on us so far this winter? It’s rained enough already that some folks are comparing this year to some of the really big wet ones from recent memories, like 1951, 1986 and 1995. Last month was the wettest January on record.

Railroaded

The 12-hour plane ride to China was doable, customs a breeze, arriving a day early and no one expecting us at the hotel – that was a surprise.

Nominated for a documentary Oscar, I urge you to see I Am Not Your Negro on the big screen. For it is that rarest of films—one which I want to see with a multi-ethnic, multi-age audience and talk about at the end.

FEBRUARY 16, 1917