Here in Seattle we implode a couple of sport’s stadiums every few years, and then ask property owners to finance a few new ones.  We vote no.  The stadiums get built and we all pay for them.  I’m a wee bit bitter.  To further delineate myself, let me disclose that I have attended exactly two  Read the Rest…

When I was an English major at Whitman College we used to say “a done paper is a good paper.”  That wasn’t true and neither is all well that ends well.  I found this to be a sour play with a depressing ending a wee bit too close to home. When it opens, we meet  Read the Rest…

Last week before the lilac fell and Gwen, my neighbor who knows something about just about everything, brought her chain saw over to lay waste both to the tree and to any fragments of male chauvinism in this neighborhood of powerful women, I had written a series of politicizing, sermonizing, sarcasmizing blogs posts which prompted  Read the Rest…

“I have no interest in being constantly catered to or forcing my beliefs on others,” confesses a former conservative. Recently I found my way to his web site via a blog post called “Things I Can’t Do Anymore.” http://formerconservative.wordpress.com/2012/05/30/things-i-cant-do-anymore/ One of the things this particular individual can’t do anymore is feel a sense of entitlement.  Read the Rest…

When I was a student at Whitman I had little interaction with the town of Walla Walla.  These days, the town is part of the fun of the visit. But being a Whitman graduate it’s hard to match wits with people outside the college.  Here are three vignettes: As a student I once rode my  Read the Rest…

I am taking a break from raging against the Catholic church and breathing feminist fire to sing a little song of Walla Walla, Washington.  I am here to do a book signing at Book and Game Co on Main Street and to stay with my college roommate Putzer, the attorney, and her husband, Jim. My  Read the Rest…

A few years ago I spent two inert hours sitting at the duck pond on the Whitman College campus in Walla Walla.  It was 109 degrees which is why I was inert.  The two hours produced a poem. The poem was printed in this quarter’s Whitman College alumni magazine. Lakem Duckem gets its name from  Read the Rest…

  When I was at Whitman College in Walla Walla (not Spokane, that’s Whitworth) I was part of a recurring act called the Temperance Union.  Four of us donned the frumpiest outfits we could put together and performed “Away with Rum” to whoever would listen: We’re coming, we’re coming, our brave little band, On the  Read the Rest…