Author Archives: sputterpub

Opossum

   We have lots of critters in Berkeley. I became acquainted with more than I wanted in the 17 years of creekside dwelling, but that was probably good, since they are plentiful around me now. I live in a backyard cottage, … Continue reading

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Because

     I don’t know what it is about people, but we sure like to find a cause for every effect. It starts when we’re very young – all kids love stories and it seems that what they love most is … Continue reading

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Hospital

     I do not enjoy hospitals. My first experience, when I was 5, was thoroughly painful, traumatic, and life-changing. I’ve written about it a number of times, most recently here, in a post I called “Operation” and published on October … Continue reading

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Sally’s Tell-Tale Heart

  I’m trying to recall the specifics, and I think what I’m about to describe occurred during the winter of 1964-65. There was one stormy day in high school when we all stayed inside for P.E., and sat on the floor, … Continue reading

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Spellbound

I’ve heard that French is the hardest language to spell. Knowledgeable people have told me that even the native speakers have a hard time with it. I’m sure that’s not correct. It’s true that you can’t tell singular from plural … Continue reading

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egaugnal

     I was hesitant to post poetry when I started this blog. That was partly because I was impelled to jot down lessons for my grandchildren to hear, but it was also because I didn’t know how good it would … Continue reading

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Old Glory

   I had occasion to contemplate our flag a few weeks ago. Conversations occurred about when to fly it and why, and those led to memories. I’m not much into flags (or symbols in general), but I respect the power … Continue reading

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My Father’s Funeral

  My father died in October 2006, after a good long life and among a large healthy family, so he could have done worse. He managed to acquire three children, four grandchildren, and one great grandchild by then. That was Otto, … Continue reading

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Plight

I came across the word “plight” recently, and that’s the first time I wondered about it. The context meant “danger,” and I conjectured that plight was some past tense of plow, the way wrought and wright is from work. Not … Continue reading

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Furious

    I was 8 when I got my own big bike, and I treasured that machine like a dear friend. I rode it briefly in New York and then it became my transportation in Chula Vista. I could ride with … Continue reading

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