It’s been a big news week.
First, the California daughter showed up at my apartment asking if I had spoken to the New York daughter. Not yet, but I’d been following the TV news of the East Coast earthquake — very unusual for that part of the country — and noting the map locations so familiar to me. I guess the sensation of seeing those familiar place names on the TV screen was so unsettling to me that I neglected my motherly duty and did not immediately call to check on the New York daughter. Fortunately, the California daughter had done so and filled me in. Even the Empire State Building itself had checked in with a message: “I am fine.” Such an inanimate text message was a better mother than I. It’s just that I remember how excited I’d been to experience my first earthquake since moving to Southern California and how jaded were strangers’ reactions to my excitement.
The Californian reported that her sister and brother-in-law were fine but that the New Yorker admitted it was scary even though nothing had fallen from any shelves. The 1940 building is, coincidentally, in the borough where my parents moved when I was a newborn before moving to New Jersey. By the time I caught up with the New Yorkers’, their worries revolved around the possibility of after-shocks which, they learned, could occur long after the original jolt.
What about the cat? I finally asked. Their 12-year-old cat had been awake early, demanding to be fed and then went back to sleep, missing all the excitement. The New York daughter told me that she had done much the same when she traveled to Tokyo years ago. After the 13-hour flight, she was so exhausted that she’d slept through a small earthquake on the first night.
And I don’t think I’ll ever see an eclipse like the recent one witnessed by people in the so-called path of totality. The gatherings of people on picnic blankets wearing eclipse glasses looked wonderful. But watching the television coverage was the best I could manage with my arthritic spine problems.
Next up, I’ll be back in front of the TV for the first-ever trial of a former US president.
Non-news junkies miss out on so much.


never voted for President George H. W. Bush nor any of his relatives — and probably never would, left-leaner that I am. But his death the other day at 94 was, in a way, one more gift to the nation after a lifetime of public service: It reminded us of how a leader should comport him or herself, and as many commentators are expressing today, presents a truly stark contrast to what we’re currently witnessing. And not only in the office of the current president, but throughout public and private life.
As a break for those of us who have been glued to TV-radio-print coverage of the Supreme Court confirmation hearings, I want to talk about the return of the condors. I stumbled across 


Today marks three months since our government announced its “zero tolerance policy” toward undocumented immigrants and asylum seekers, ripping children from the arms of their parents and placing the kids in detention facilities across the country. I’m sure it seems much longer for the parents, some 400 of whom have already been deported and whose whereabouts the government has no clue.





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