Author Archives: janishaag

I am pleased to say that a story I wrote about Dick’s heart adventure has been published in the June issue of Sacramento Magazine. You can read “Departures and Arrivals” here. It’s an odd enough sensation to be sitting in a … Continue reading →

I’m pleased that this poem I wrote about Dick has found a home in an online literary journal I’ve long admired—but you have to be 60 or older to submit. I am, and I did. And they accepted it! Click … Continue reading →

Dear Dad, our father, Roger, who art in heaven: The little girls in this photo couldn’t understand why you moved them far from a town called Orange to a lake called Folsom, pulling them away from sidewalks begging for roller … Continue reading →

Under a half slice of lemon moon on a still-warm summer night, I slip quietly into the water next to the ladder—not walking down the steps as usual. I often have the pool to myself in the sultry dark, but … Continue reading →

Hawaii Jan migrated to California last week for some family milestones (graduations and the like) with her folks in El Dorado Hills. We hadn’t seen her since our unplanned stay on her island of Oahu in January. Among her many … Continue reading →

Us. Because life is good… especially at the seashore where we celebrated (quite belatedly) Dick’s 76th birthday, which was in February. After I had to return to Sacramento Feb. 1, Dick celebrated (gently, quietly) as he recovered in a rented … Continue reading →

This is what I wrote for the final print edition of my students’ newspaper, which landed on newsstands May 9 at Sacramento City College. So proud of the editors and staffers who worked very hard to make the final 24 … Continue reading →

That’s the great headline on this UC Davis Health story about one of Dick’s saviors, Claudio Alvarado, who sank to his knees beside me on mine seconds after Dick’s collapse in Honolulu Jan. 15. Claudio—as you may remember if you’ve … Continue reading →

Before my brain could begin to process it—you, falling to the airport floor, pulse fluttering in your neck until someone rolled you onto your back, and the fluttering stopped— Loss opened the shuttered door in my heart, walked through again, … Continue reading →