Rude Interruptions

Nevertheless, She Persisted

I read Hillary Clinton’s recent book about last year’s presidential campaign, “What Happened,” more as an act of defiance than a search for enlightenment. I read it because people told me I…

The First Amendment in Peril

As the Messenger Mountain News prepared for launch at the beginning of the year, the founders knew it needed a motto—a credo, if you will—to both express its aspirations and react to…

If It’s Tuesday, This Must Be Russia

(DATELINE: BALTIC SEA, BETWEEN ST. PETERSBURG AND HELSINKI)—If there’s one thing you don’t expect on ocean cruises, it’s any kind of surprise. By definition, cruises are designed to be uncomplicated and predictable—you…

The iPod’s Tale

Be gentle with me this week. My iPod recently died; she was only nine, and I’m still grieving. I’ve never been an “early adopter,” one of those guys who stands in line…

A Press in Peril

I’ve been thinking a lot about Edward R. Murrow lately. Journalists of a certain age are prone to do that. Not because we’re lost in our senile reveries, but because Murrow, the…

Plays for a Political Mean Season

Was it only a year ago that I was rhapsodizing about the upcoming 2016 programming at Will Geer’s Theatricum Botanicum? As I wrote at the time, the Theatricum’s summer program blew in…

A Spin Through the Grand Circle

MONUMENT VALLEY, UTAH—We’re among those Americans who’ve seen a lot more of other countries than we have our own. But this spring, a timely professional conference for my wife in Denver and…

A Community Publisher Passes

The city of Claremont, my hometown through middle school and most of my college years, recently held a memorial service for Janis Weinberger, who with her husband Martin, owned and published for…

Tony Beilenson, The Santa Monica Mountains’ Best Friend

Our mountains lost a great friend last week with the passing of Tony Beilenson, the former congressman, state senator and assemblyman. I learned the sad news—as I so often have—from a news…

Dreaming of “The Ash Grove”

The ash grove, how graceful, how plainly ’tis speaking The harp through it playing has language for me. When over its branches the sunlight is breaking, A host of kind faces is…