Tuesday, March 31, would have been Cesar Chavez' birthday.
Six weeks ago, in an effort to close a $42 billion budget gap, the Legislature passed a state budget that included $12.5 billion in tax increases, which are set to take effect on April 1.
On Monday morning, March 23, I anxiously awoke at 5:30 a.m. realizing I had to wait two more hours until I could board a chartered bus to take part in an annual road trip to our state Capitol.
Over the last several years, the city of Santa Clarita and Los Angeles county have been working with residents of this valley to create a joint general plan, the first of its kind in L.A. County.
When I meet people for the first time who know me only through this column, I initially must clarify that I have received no money for these weekly ramblings over the past 12-some years.
Son's favorite movies hated
Last month, I presented my view that our legislature in Sacramento is dysfunctional on fiscal matters. One problem, among other reasons, is that our elected officials tend to vote on party lines rather than on the individual merits of any given budget issue.
Today, I reach the mid-century point of my life. This offers a great time to take stock and look back to see what I have done in my life to make a difference.
I enjoyed reading the article in The Signal's Senior Living section yesterday (March 16) entitled "Knit together with love."
A trip to a Board of Supervisors meeting in downtown Los Angeles is never a pleasant experience for the public. It means a day off work, a long drive in traffic, usually about an hour and a half from Santa Clarita and a hefty parking fee. A long wait faces the intrepid traveler before the agenda item is heard. Then finally, the resident is granted the opportunity to speak to a supervisor who is not listening because he is having a conversation at the dais with someone else.
It's Lent, and our congregation is collectively reciting the Nicene Creed. Without warning, four pews forward, he collapsed. From standing tall with voice strong, he buckled. His wife caught his fall, guiding him to a supine position on the pew. I, and others rushed forward to aid.
It has been just 52 days since President Obama took the oath of office and began implementing the secret Democratic plan to destroy the United States, create a socialist welfare state and use the powers of the Vast Left Wing Conspiracy to silence the Vast Right Wing Conclave once and for all.
My Uncle Earl has got to be one of the crustiest fellows I've ever seen. From his thinning mouse-gray hair to his weathered western cowboy boots, Earl's features speak to a life of difficult lessons and hard-earned wisdom. Earl's time in the Marine Corps taught him to be tough under fire and not mince words. He also knows the price that men have paid to make us all free.
My love affair with newspapers is a life-long obsession that runs deep. All I know is newspaper work. I've managed circulation drives, operated a Compugraphic typesetter, sold advertising, done layout in the days of waxing machines and pica poles, been a news system IT trainer and now - a journalist.
The major media treats us to a plethora of so-called "headline" economic indicators on a daily basis.
The Signal's opinion piece titled "The high speed rail hoodwink" (Opinion, July 13) recycles many of the myths and misinformation about the California High-Speed Rail Program that have been put forward by opponents.
I learned early the mantra that "hard work pays off." My father was a hard worker and was determined not to have any sons who were slackers.
Does anyone else find it interesting that our Founding Fathers made no mention of establishing a police force to protect the citizenry of the country?
We're finally getting our new street today. It took civic action by many in our neighborhood over the course of two full years, but the city has finally come around and allocated resources to maintain the assets for which we pay the taxes for them to maintain - in the first place.
For more than 15 years, several times a week, I find myself standing in line at the "criminal window" at one of our local county courthouses.
I grew up working odd jobs to earn money. In the winter I would go from house to house with my snow shovel, and in the summer you could find me wheeling my gas lawn mower down the block to service the five families that paid me to mow their lawns weekly. It was a great operation, and kept me in soda, sunflower seeds, and fishing bait throughout my summer vacation from school.
The news has been dominated for several weeks now with coverage of our rapidly deteriorating border security and the influx of children, in particular, traveling alone and coming into our country illegally.
I have written in this column in the past that I support illegal immigration. This position has earned me the ire of my fellow conservatives.
Kathy Norris of the Valley Industry Association paid me a visit a few weeks ago as part of a local business survey.
The political world is never static. The never-ending battles for power, prestige, policy and the perceived moral high ground are endless and endlessly fascinating.
If you've been to Castaic Lake recently, you may have noticed you're seeing a lot more of the launch ramp than usual. These days, that launch ramp is loooooong.
Part of the joy, and most of the misery, of my job as a pastor is being with folks when they in trouble, surrounded by the carnage of poor choices, and facing what appear to be insurmountable obstacles.
As a Muslim-immigrant to the United States of America, I find special meaning in the Fourth of July, an occasion symbolizing the struggle for freedom.
By now, the phrase "Respect is a Two-Way Street" may be a familiar one to Santa Clarita residents. That's because this is the main message behind the city's new safety campaign to help keep bicyclists, motorists and pedestrians safe on our roadways.
Undoubtedly by now you have observed the rather casual manner in which our president responds to each new scandal that pops up - and they do keep popping up.