| 19 Mar 2008 |
In the Interest of Disclosure
I’m not sure how to describe what I did in my journalism ethics class this week. Was it a silly thing to do, an honest moment of reflection, or a breakthrough moment in teaching?
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| 20 Feb 2008 |
On Being a Writer
Some proclaim they are writers; others say they don’t know the first thing about writing. My big brother Tabo reminded me one recent afternoon that everyone, whether they have spent...
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| 12 Jan 2008 |
Politics NOT as Usual
Okay … I confess. I’m excited about this year’s election. I mean, really, really excited about this year’s election.
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| 22 Dec 2007 |
Dog on Highway One
It was early Monday morning as I headed toward Pacifica to teach my weekly aerobics class. Normally, I would have been dashing through the section of Highway 280 that...
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| 17 Nov 2007 |
Lessons at the Water Cooler
I was leaning over the office water cooler one early Monday evening when Brian, a fresh-faced producer, strolled over to me. Brian, a generally upbeat and easygoing man who I met earlier...
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| 13 Oct 2007 |
Reverse Discrimination
As usual, I was in a rush, but I knew I couldn’t make it to school to teach my class without getting some gas. Quickly, I pulled into the neighborhood station, just a few blocks from the...
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| 18 Sep 2007 |
A Good Samaritan
I was just about to turn left at the intersection near my son’s school when the light turned red. Just in front of me a huge, purple Harley sat idling with its engine revving loudly.
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| 30 Aug 2007 |
A Sure Thing
I was practically passed out in the passenger seat of the family Volvo when my brother, Tabo, called me. It was late Friday night; my family and I were on our way home from our favorite restaurant in Belmont.
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| 31 Jul 2007 |
Baby in the Back Seat
You’ve all heard the story: Parent puts child in the back seat of the car. Parent forgets that baby is in back seat. Hours pass. Baby dies.
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| 15 Jun 2007 |
Do I Look Like the Police Chief?
It was late April. The sun was poking through the gray clouds of Pacifica. I was hunched over my usual seat at the Chit Chat, a mom-and-pop café that sits just a few hundred yards from the ocean. “Excuse me,” an older Caucasian man said as he walked up to me.
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| 26 May 2007 |
Barack Like Me
It was the fall of ’88; another day of smog-shrouded sunshine in Los Angeles. A warm breeze stirred just outside the door; cars whizzed by the windows, creating a steady hum that actually made it possible for me to focus on my reporting assignment.
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