"There is a garden in every childhood, an enchanted place where colors are brighter, the air softer, and the morning more fragrant than ever again."
It is too bad the Castaic Lake Water Agency continues to rely on distortions and exaggerations to discuss the extensive environmental issues involving water supply in our valley.
Ever had one of those nights when you lay in bed with a nagging little feeling something's wrong?
Our family's worst experience with Big Medicine occurred nearly 15 years ago. Like most, we'd had skirmishes here and there with our insurance company, but this one was nearly a killer.
With this New Year just begun, I would like to wish to all of you and to all whom you know, good health, prosperity, fairness and service to others.
A funny thing happened on the way to Tuesday's election.
In 1933, my grandparents were living in Sioux City, Iowa. The Depression that had started with the stock market crash in 1929 deepened in the intervening years, and made it impossible for Russ and Thelma to stay in the corn belt.
The other evening, I was leaving Vincenzo's Pizza with my son after the traditional Tuesday Hart Football Feedbag. As we were getting ready to turn right on Lyons out of the parking lot, I saw it.
The axiom that the world's destiny is in the hands of bankers and industrialists is never more aptly demonstrated than in wartime.
I read with great interest John Boston's column, "On dirt clods and an Acton bullet." That man has some serious literary talent, and like a fine tool, John Boston knows how to use that skill to "move" you.
It has been a little more than 100 days since I was named publisher of The Signal. In that time, I have consistently heard two things from passionate Signal readers: "Don't screw up my paper"; and "Please make The Signal relevant again."
In the late 1990s when I worked for Ernst & Young, I recall a meeting of the management of the Financial Services Group during which tempers got heated and the following exchange occurred:
We never forget the drought.
"A solitary bad person sitting alone, harboring genocidal thoughts and wishing he ruled the world is not a problem unless he lives next to us in the trailer park. In the big geopolitical trailer park that is the world today, he does."
As did William F. Buckley Jr. and Barry Goldwater, I reject rote, unthinking party loyalty. I reject the censure of my individualism, sagacity and liberty.
You're familiar with the noise America has heard for a long time. It will continue, but it's easily unmasked.
The official arrival of summer is just weeks away. If you listen closely, you will soon be able to hear kids all over town chanting that classic phrase: "school's out for summer!"
Pulled out the paper this bright Monday morning and started reading. Of course, I have my bagel with strawberry cream cheese, oat bran cereal and tall glass of orange juice at the ready. I know how to start my holiday day.
While I was not yet living when it was fought, World War II has shaped so much of the world in which I have lived. It framed the whole idea of valor and courage and sacrificial service. And it wasn't only those who served in uniform who experienced the war, and felt that they played a vital part in bringing about a good and swift conclusion to it. In truth, we were a nation at war. Soldier and civilian were on the same team, working for a common goal, with mutual respect and honor.
I have watched helplessly in recent weeks and months with a growing sense of alarm, fearing that our generation is witnessing the death of one of the most vital pillars of liberty: the freedom of individual thought and the free exchange of ideas. While it's true that the First Amendment only protects people from government reprisals for speaking freely, social media and mass media lynch mobs are just as much a danger in a free society as any oppressive government.
Memorial Day is almost here and that means a three-day weekend for most Americans. The annual holiday in honor of the brave men and women who've died serving our country to keep us safe and free is also considered the unofficial start of summer! Flags will be raised in honor of those we've lost, while families and friends will gather for backyard barbeques, lawn games, and poolside fun.
Followers of this column know that five weeks ago my daughter Katie was struck by a motorcycle in India. Katie suffered severe traumatic brain injury; required emergency cranial surgery, was comatose two days, spent six days in the ICU, and subsequently required 16 further days of hospitalization to recover sufficiently well for the 24 hour jet trip back home. Landing at LAX, Katie immediately spent two days at UCLA for a thorough work up, followed by one month of outpatient cognitive and occupational rehab. Five days ago, virtually fully recovered,