They tell me that the last time they paved the Vashon Highway was twenty five years ago. What I remember about that event was that it was an oddly joyous time. It was kind of like getting a new, extra large bed spread, or taking your car to the shop to have all those parking lot door dings fixed, along with getting a new coat of paint to spruce up the old jalopy.

Some days I do despair.
Yesterday a friend who has been on the front lines for peace and justice for a long time and has a better perspective than I do, reached out and placed her hand on my arm and said, “Take the long view.”Some days I do despair.

The hair went up on the back of my neck when the mean old guy grabbed my scapular medal by the chain around my neck.  A scapular is a Catholic dog tag and I was 12 years old and naked to the waist, as it was hot and I had just finished Mrs. Anderson’s lawn. 

About eight years ago, Steve Graham handed me, and a few others, copies of the Transition Town Handbook in hopes that we might do something with it while he was off on a trip of many months. 

You’ll read this column on the brink of Easter. If you have kids, you’ll be boiling eggs and dying or decorating eggs for Easter baskets.  You’d think everybody knows how to make a perfectly boiled egg, but no! My son Steve, after many tries, still has not quite grasped the technique of cooking and cooling an egg