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Healdsburg
November 9, 2025

Memorial Day

The origins of Memorial Day are often attributed to General John Logan. It is true that, in 1868, he gave impetus to an official “Decoration Day” as it was first called, a time for remembering the Civil War dead and decorating their graves. But Logan never really understood the meaning of the day. Until his own death, he remained a radical reconstructionist whose fierce anger toward the South never abated.

An urgent appeal for support

Early in 2013, the new members of the Board of Directors of the Healdsburg Animal Shelter confronted the task of examining the Shelter’s business model and dealing with its continuing operating losses—losses that had severely eroded the Shelter’s financial reserves. In providing the high level of care that the Healdsburg community has come to expect, the Shelter has now exhausted nearly all its operating reserves.  Today we need community support—more than ever in the Shelter’s 53-year history—to keep the Shelter operating and fulfilling its mission.

Gatsby in wine country

A fascinating new rationale is going around to explain why wineries have to throw so many big parties. It has to do with a relatively new social force called “wine club pressure.”

Letters to the Editor 5-30-13

Clean power

Letters to the Editor 5-23-13

Cittaslow Sebastopol more than a non-profit

Target practice

I promised myself that I would give the whole gun control issue a bit of a break. I find it depressing in the extreme and it only exacerbates my feeling of helplessness. I broke that promise to myself because a) no matter how I tried my thoughts still carom back to the subject, b) I had my fingers crossed when I made the promise and c) I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get the words ‘exacerbate’ and ‘carom’ in one paragraph.

Letters to the Editor 5-23-13

One-lane or two?

Letters to the Editor 5-16-13

Crossfire

Letters to the Editor 5-16-13

Save Point Reyes

A shattering quiet

The look could only be described as a smirk. That’s what it was, that’s what struck me to the core like a cold stabbing, sliver thin bolt of ice. The photo in the paper showed the brothers standing at the Boston Marathon. Near a place that would, in a matter of minutes, resemble more a ravaged war zone than a celebratory gathering of runners from around the world realizing their life-long, or annual, dreams.
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