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Posts tagged as “The Fortunate Son”

The Boys From El Cerrity (Part 2)

We arrived in Stockton in my car of the moment, a '58 Plymouth Fury, a cool car in its day, a sporty two-door hardtop with outsized Cadillac-style rear fins. It had two big 4-barrel carburetors sitting opposite each other on a ram-induction fuel system feeding a huge “hemi” V-8 engine and a speedometer that registered up to 160 miles per hour.

The Boys From El Cerrity

High school hit me right between the eyes. Where does a freshman fit in? At the bottom of the ladder, of course. Within a student body of well over a thousand individuals, I ran smack into a social class mentality that seemed to pervade the entire experience, the elite spending their time looking down their noses at those beneath them, each class assuming a position of authority over the underclasses.

The Journey Of The White Bird

Max and Maureen sailed White Bird, a sleek 42-foot trimaran, across the Pacific from Lahaina to the San Francisco Bay, where Max would oversee some…

Irrevocable Momentum

Tony Serra was a fascinating individual and I liked him right away. He was highly principled and his repu­tation as a fierce opponent in the courtroom was widely held. He was eager to defend the underdog and those subject to racial injustice.

The Fortunate Son Redux

Big Dog came by the house on a Friday afternoon, late in the day. Watching his arrival from the front room I could tell by…

A Memoir: The Fortunate Son, Part 17

My attorney finally showed up and filled me in on what was going on. The feds had convened a grand jury to hammer my old…

A Memoir: The Fortunate Son, Part 16

“When we're gone, long gone, the only thing that will have mattered,  Is the love that we shared, and the way that we cared,  When…

A Memoir: The Fortunate Son, Part 15

Again to immeasurable delight, baseball was a serious undertaking at Camp Fed. Slow-pitch softball rather than the purist form of hardball, but there was an…

A Memoir: The Fortunate Son, Part 14

I arrived at the camp and waltzed into a private room with my brother and roommates, Artie and Lance. We were on the third floor of B-unit, overlooking the ball field and groves of pine and eucalyptus. Robbin had everything set up for me. He showed up in the middle of my check-in and immediately started harassing the guard (aka “hack”) in the good natured manner at which he excels.