Tag: arm’s length

Because the word “community” is over-used.

The Name is Attinson. NEAL Attinson.

MY NAME IS NOT “NEIL ATTISON.” Neither is it “Neale” or “Niall,” “Addison,” “Atkinson,” “Atchison,” or “Adlington.” (I’m still trying to figure that one out.)

Despite these cognomenly difficulties, I have no desire to change my name to something more convenient. True, I did call myself “Neal Ross” when I was a reporter (and why I publicly go by “Neal Ross Attinson” now), but that was on the advice of my first radio mentor. “Just use your first and middle name,” he said. “Everybody in radio does that. Cuts down on the crazies who will want to call you at home.”

Even then, some people referred to me as “Neil Roth.” You can’t win. Continue reading “The Name is Attinson. NEAL Attinson.”

5 Thoughts: A Wrinkle is Time

1. “WHERE DOES THE TIME GO?” I asked. And the answer came: “Away.”

2. There’s really not much one can say about the passing of time, just as there is not much that can be said about falling in love or the taste of anything. They can only be experienced, not described. But oh! what an experience! we wouldn’t be fully human without it.

3. Two types of time there are: linear (future-to-present-to-past) and cyclical/anniversarial (round-and-round-and-round). Cyclical time is really spiral time; we commemorate the same events but reach a year older as we do so. Continue reading “5 Thoughts: A Wrinkle is Time”

Don’t Look Up

OF ALL THE PET PEEVES this modern life offers, one of the most soul-sucking is checking out at the grocery store.

I’m specifically talking about the debit-card machine. Time was, you could fill the two-to-three-minute transaction with friendly banter; ask after the checker’s health and/or welfare; comment on how busy the day is; even chat about the house music. It doesn’t matter what — it’s a friendly benefit for both customer and checker. When you’re working retail, these little conversations help pass the time and break up the daily monotony. Continue reading “Don’t Look Up”

Night, Fog, and One Hell of a Bang

IF I HAD KNOWN THAT our galleon would collide with a freighter, I would have worn a life jacket.

The time was February 1988. Through a curious series of circumstances, I had signed aboard the replica galleon Golden Hinde II a few months earlier as a deckhand and docent, sailing around the Bay Area and down the California coast giving tours of our fine ship. Our plan that night was to motor (yes, we had a small engine) from San Francisco to the Farallon Islands, then sail down to Half Moon Bay. We left San Francisco well after midnight in order to take advantage of the outgoing tide, and were soon past the Golden Gate Bridge and into the open sea.

A cold and foggy 3 a. m. found me atop the foredeck on bow-watch (front lookout) with a couple of other chilly souls. Continue reading “Night, Fog, and One Hell of a Bang”

Wee Little Me

NEAR THE TOP OF THE Beloved Things list are landscapes that make me feel small. Deserts, mountains, beaches, redwood forests, prairies — anything requiring a wide perspective with which to take it all in, and which likewise reminds me of my true place in the Universe.

Part of the reason is that I have lived in a valley of one sort or another for most of my life. Valleys can’t help but breed insularity; when you can see the borders of your world, you can get the idea that the world is a small one and that the people inside it are the only people there are. Continue reading “Wee Little Me”

(Shave and) a Haircut, 12 Bucks!

WE HAD LIVED IN SONOMA for a third of my lifetime before I visited Allen’s Hair House, about a half-block south of the Plaza. I had become fed up with being charged $20 for a chop job by my previous barber, who shall remain nameless, and I was frankly curious about the unassuming Broadway storefront with the classic spinning barber pole and the hand-stenciled sign: “HAIRCUTS – $12.”

I was greeted by the smell of jasmine rice, and by an older Vietnamese man with a thick accent and soft voice. He offered me one of the two empty barber’s chairs and, when I sat down, he tied the traditional paper strip around my neck before enveloping me in a smock decorated with an Egyptian theme. Continue reading “(Shave and) a Haircut, 12 Bucks!”

I’m Ed, He’s Johnny

FOR MOST OF THIS YEAR, and health permitting, I have been co-hosting a weekly radio show every Thursday afternoon with my rabbi (and showhost), Steve Finley. It’s billed as the Sonoma Valley Interfaith Ministerial Association Radio Hour, and is an exploration of different faith traditions and communities as represented by their local spiritual leaders; each episode also features a lesson from engaging cantor/musicologist Jonathan Friedmann. You can hear it on livestream at 4 p.m. PDT at http://ksvy.org; or if you’re in the Valley, on 91.3 FM. (Missed us? Here’s a link to the show archives.) It’s always a rousing conversation, so if you like this sort of thing (and what metaphorager doesn’t?) dial or click us in!

Fie on Death, and the Pale Horse He Rode In On

He was a man. Take him for all in all. I shall not look upon his like again.
— William Shakespeare, Hamlet

John Wheeler, c. 1981
John Wheeler, c. 1981

WHEN I FIRST MOVED INTO an Oakland apartment in 1986 with John Woods “Wheels” “Spoonhead” “Calvin Biggins” Wheeler, our mutual friends were laying bets as to who would kill who first.

“We’re both so obnoxiously self-aggrandizing,” John told me. At that point in my life, I couldn’t argue with him. We were in our mid- to late-20s, after all, and such things are expected of young men. Continue reading “Fie on Death, and the Pale Horse He Rode In On”

Vive La Difference

From Josee Wolff, The Torah: A Women’s Commentary:

“…The pessimist observes a situation, generalizes about the bad aspects, and interprets them as a permanent and constant feature. In contrast, the optimist observes the same situation and sees the bad aspects, but particularizes them and interprets them as a temporary obstacle that can be overcome.”

Lamed-Vavniks, Unite!

adtnAre you a Lamed-Vavnik?

According to Jewish tradition, there are 36 exceptionally righteous (read: supermensch-like) people in the world in each generation, and without whom the world would cease to exist. (In Hebrew counting, 36 is “lamed vav” (lamed = 30, vav = six)). The thing about Lamed-Vavniks is that they are secretly righteous; they do their deeds under the cover of anonymity. Continue reading “Lamed-Vavniks, Unite!”

My Letter to the Mayor of London

resistancesymbolHere is what I said to Mayor Sadiq Khan via his website. You may want to write your own.

Dear Sir,

Please accept my humble condolences and healing prayers for those injured and killed in the recent terror attack; I hope this finds you otherwise well. I realize you are very busy, but I just wanted to take a moment to apologize for the actions of “our” president. Not all of us voted for him; not all of us share his boorish opinions or worldview. Many of my countrymen/women are otherwise fine people, and many of them are trying their hardest to mitigate the damage he is doing to our country and the world. I can only hope you don’t judge us all by the actions of one man, even if he claims to be our elected representative.

Be well, and thank you for your time,

Neal Ross Attinson

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