To convert the cargo pod – the penthouse – into a bedroom, you push a button. The lid tilts open like a giant clamshell. In the San Leandro lot, I eyed the ladder and the tent suspiciously, then crab-legged my way up. It was surprisingly comfortable and well ventilated, but the entry and exit scared me.
“I am not climbing down this ladder in the middle of the night,” I said. “You try it.”
Gardner, a big guy who crests 6 feet, stepped on the bottom rung of the ladder. The van tilted ever so slightly.
“This seems like a bad idea,” he said.
The whole story is in the San Francisco Chronicle, here.
This coming weekend is the BlogHer conference, a huge gathering of women (and yes, some guys) with opinions and Internet connectivity. About a month back – I think it was a month back – I’d finally made up my mind not to attend. There are a bunch of small complicated reasons – my dislike of large crowds, a program that doesn’t resonate with me, too much girly girl stuff on the edges. That’s all my point of view, your mileage/interpretation may vary and all that.… continued…
When I was 17, I boarded an airplane for Tel Aviv. I have a vague memory of a group leader, a better memory of my fellow teenaged travelers, and an even better memory still of the night I watched the sky light up along the horizon from the balcony of an Israeli family’s apartment in Nahariya.
“Let’s go,” said one of the boys from the family hosting the dinner, and we got up, and we walked calmly down eight, maybe ten flights of stairs until we were in the building’s bomb shelter.… continued…
I’ve always had a soft spot for World Hum, they published my first travel story, after all. I submitted it not knowing I would not get paid — a mistake I’ve only made one time. A year later, maybe two, they sent me a check for that first story — and they’ve run a few pieces of what I think are some of my best writing. For a while, I covered Hawaii pretty regularly for them — that was a terrific gig.… continued…
Chuck Ts are made in China
Dee Dee is long gone
Hippie’s kids have trust funds
I’m drinking coffee at dawn
When I learn that there are
No more Ramones.
College friends with cancer
Trying to survive
They have a fighting chance now
But it ate Johnny alive
And then we learn that there are
No more Ramones.
“I don’t want to grow up!”
Joey, skinny as a mic stand
Shouting like he means it
But you can’t fight the hand
Of time when it teaches you that are
No more Ramones.… continued…
I was so delighted to go to the Grand Canyon to work on this story, it was a dream assignment. And it felt like everyone I met was in on making the day be nothing short of perfect. America’s National Park’s… there’s nothing better. That’s my story, I’m sticking to it, thanks, Teddy.
This grab-and-go of Grand Canyon memories is exactly what I want to avoid. When I was very young, my father drove our family—my mom, two siblings, me—across the United States from New Jersey to California.