Author Archives: janishaag

Dear P-26/T-3: Back near the end of the last century, when the journalism department moved out here, you were called P-26—“P” for “portable”—though you’d been on this spot for a long time by then. That confused Ginny McReynolds and me, … Continue reading →

(a love poem to precipitation) For two days the sky has slowly clouded, scrunched its face like a toddler winding up for a tantrum, finally spitting petulant drops at us, and the miracle of puddles and wipers beating a steady … Continue reading →

Because that’s what a new year does— offer the clean slate, present the fresh calendar, the new four-digit number that causes you to shake your head and say, how can it be…? The sense of time not so much passing … Continue reading →

I meet my maternal grandmother in antiques shops. Nearly every one that sucks me in—though I try to avoid them—holds pieces of her china (Desert Rose) or her silverware (Washingtonia) or cut glass bowls with sugar cubes and delicate silvery … Continue reading →

If I’m in Yosemite, it means it’s the end of May, and school’s out for summer (sing it with me!). This year it also means I’ve completed my 21st year as a full-time writing professor… and before Sacramento City College … Continue reading →

(for RDS) In my family December 7 was celebrated as my grandparents’ wedding anniversary, 1921, long before most Americans had heard of Pearl Harbor, before bombs whistled from the sky, unleashing unholy destruction upon far too many across the planet, … Continue reading →

Once upon a time, many years ago, a dashing mountain man named Matt Rivers came riding into town, swung his lean, bearded form off his horse, and, walking past a young woman named Delta Breeze, tipped his hat and said, … Continue reading →

She is amazing, my BFF. I’ve always said so. To be truthful, I’ve often also said that she is crazy, particularly around the time she decided to take in three special needs foster kids, whom she later adopted. All as … Continue reading →

Boarding the 6:20 a.m. to Seattle, the BFF nudges the Prius onto the main deck behind a red Fiat with an Obama/Biden sticker. “Fiat stands for ‘fix it again, Tony,’ ” she says, as I, the good audience, chuckle. We … Continue reading →

I am walking on a gravel road on Bainbridge Island in Washington state under a dove gray sky. There is no rain—and none is predicted—which is odd in this rainforest of a state. Sam, the golden retriever, walks ahead of … Continue reading →