It’s a typical sunny afternoon in Beverly Hills. The café is starting to clear out from the usual morning rush of the soy latte, extra foam crowd.
Wisconsin was my home and in no time at all, I was back to school. I would think about California every day, and I knew I had to get back there somehow.
That night, before I went to bed, I thought about the first time I came to California with my mother and little brother, Tim.
While at an estate sale here in Fullerton, I happened upon an old book written by Helen Hunt Jackson first published in 1884, the name: Ramona.
Growing up in Wisconsin, not far from the Lake Geneva Playboy Club, I naturally wanted to go to this resort every chance I got to meet famous entertainers.
These past couple of months have been, in a word, interesting.
I awoke this morning to a very familiar beach scenario. It was a bit overcast…
Today is Memorial Day, and I woke up feeling grateful to the many brave souls who gave their all…
It was unseasonably hot today in Huntington Beach. The sun shone down on my shoulders and the sea breeze was warm with the scent of sand and surf.
It would be difficult to not be grateful for a day like today.