People

The following are crimes excerpted from Sebastopol Police Department daily crime log entries and listed at the time the alleged violation was reported.

The following are crimes excerpted from Sebastopol Police Department daily crime log entries and listed at the time the alleged violation was reported.

The Western Sonoma County Historical Society puts on a cemetery walk every fall that’s really something special. It’s always the first Friday and Saturday in October, though they had to skip last year due to the pandemic. Six different individuals who are buried up at the Sebastopol Memorial Lawn are featured in short little vignettes that capture a moment in the person’s life. 

Last week, I met JD, an imposing character with a lot on his mind, who had moved his iconic bus to behind the Youth Annex over on Morris Street. The big move over to the SAVS (Sonoma Applied Village Services) property up on 116, was days away. JD wasn’t sure how he’d do with the imposed rules and guidelines the place was going to come along with, but it also seemed like too good an opportunity to pass up. 

Rick is remarkable. He’ll be teaching an on court tennis clinic, and someone will walk by outside the court, and he yells, “Hi Beth!” Or it may be “Hey there, Larry! How’s your knee doing?” Or he’ll ask me about my father-in-law who he met once 20 years ago. “How’s Erni doing?”  I don’t have an explanation for how the guy remembers everyone’s name, except for the possibility that he really cares. 

The following are excerpted from Sebastopol Police Department daily crime log entries and listed at the time the alleged violation was reported.

The following are crimes excerpted from Sebastopol Police Department daily crime log entries and listed at the time the alleged violation was reported.

I took Rosie, our usually sweet black lab/pointer out for a walk the other day. Passing the CVS, there was an older gentleman sitting on the ground near the entrance. Rosie went right up to him, and the two really hit it off. The man had a sign about having been recently evicted from his home and was reaching out for some sort of assistance.

I’ve been running into Marilyn Read for years. We first met at Memorial Hospice where we both worked as nurses. Then I’d see Marilyn every summer up at the Kate Wolf festival where she would be hanging out with her banjo and her Love Choir community. Later, as a ukulele instructor at the Sebastopol Cultural Center, she got my wife hooked on the thing. 

Just before Thanksgiving, there seems to be an influx of youngish people around here. They are the college kids, and those a bit older, who return just for the holiday and some reconnecting with family, and their old high school chums. Some of them stop by the house and we catch up a bit. It’s always like being in a time machine, because my recollection of these newly-minted adults is of kids running on a soccer field, or when they came to our door on Halloween dressed as princesses or Batmans, or maybe as pimply teens waiting to grow out of their most awkward years.