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Thursday, July 09, 2009
Columns
Every city, town, village and hamlet across America has its own unique way of heralding the official start of summer. In Burbank, the season of vacations, barbecues, pools and beach outings begins with the opening of the Starlight Bowl’s Summer Concert Series.
A retailer in Athens, Ga., recently held a donation drive for the Salvation Army. But it wasn’t your typical ho-hum, run-of-the-mill canned food drive. No, this CVS store posted a sign making it clear that its customers were encouraged to drop off not cans but “cans.” On the eve of her retirement, Sue Georgino strolled a hallway of the Community Services Building, pointing to photographs of volunteers, smiling families and newly minted residential and business developments. It’s 7 a.m. as I write this, so maybe it’s just the tequila talking. But this was a lousy June. A never-ending series of Portland mornings — dreary days that drive men to bars for breakfast and cause teenagers to pierce cartilage.
The final week of June was by all means one filled with gloom. Not just the gloom of overcast skies that we Southern Californians are used to in the year’s sixth month, but the gloom that comes from the loss of iconic figures that have played a role in the cultural fabric of our lives. During his last day as superintendent of the Burbank Unified School District, Gregory Bowman sat in a bare-walled office as the faint sounds of string instruments rose from a stereo, one of his few remaining possessions in the room.
In 2004, my husband-to-be and I bought a cute yellow house on a decent-sized lot with our very own apricot tree and then proudly declared ourselves homeowners.
My office at the Burbank Leader features two windows. One looks out onto the newsroom, while the second is a glowing rectangle tuned to either local news or CNN.
Daughter 1: Are you writing your article, Daddy?
While the gloom of June brought gray skies, Johnny Carson Park was transformed into a bright sea of vivid blue and red as proud Burbank and John Burroughs High School alumni gathered at the venue Saturday for the ninth annual All Class Reunion Picnic and Car Show.
Recently I got an e-mail from a reader who has a long-running dispute with his daughter. She says you can’t start a sentence with “and.” He says he’s going to do it anyway.
I was 2 when he left. When I became a father and my daughter turned 2, I looked at her and tried to imagine how it would feel to walk away from her.
The Burbank Magnolia Park Optimist Club Scholarship Committee presented 10 deserving students with $1,000 scholarships at a dinner meeting May 21. It was very rewarding to hear each student talk about themselves and their dreams for the future.
Burbank, like every other American city, is an ever-changing place. Some changes are great — like the revitalization of Downtown Burbank, while some we mourn — like the loss of those great chile rellenos at El Chiquito and the late night jazz and nightcaps at Chadney’s.
“My advice to writers just starting out? Don’t use semicolons!” Kurt Vonnegut advised in a 2007 speech. “They are transvestite hermaphrodites, representing exactly nothing. All they do is suggest you might have gone to college.”
I find it interesting that in such a populous area we fight so hard to avoid one another. Or maybe it’s just me, and you’re all finding ways to get together without inviting me.
Faced with overwhelming requests for assistance, the Burbank Temporary Aid Center has seen as much as an 80% increase from last year for some of the services they provide. According to Michael WalbrechtMichael Walbrecht, who serves as the board of directors chairman, continuing to provide services during these difficult economic times has placed increasing pressure on the organization to engage in more aggressive and effective fundraising.
I left my house a little past 7 a.m. last week, enjoying the air on my mile-and-a-half bicycle jaunt to the Burbank Metrolink station. I waved to an old man in a Miami Dolphins cap, apparently startled by a business-wear and briefcase-clad man whizzing by before breakfast.
A few weeks ago, I wrote in this space: “The key to avoiding the frightening-sounding problem known as the ‘dangling participle’ is to not be frightened.”
I love a good pair of boots.
Does Twitter have a valid place in journalism? Or, rather, is it a bland, overwhelming and narcissistic medium, more useful for telling people about your shampoo preference than a way to engage readers?
For years I’ve been writing this column hebdomadally. But I didn’t know I was writing it hebdomadally because I had no idea what hebdomadally means. Today I know it means “once a week,” and I have a bunch of kids to thank for it.
While the country may not be in great shape economically, we can at least revel in the fact that we have a bountiful supply of reality television to watch.
So I’m driving home the other day and we pass a barber shop. The kids notice the candy stick-like barber pole out front and ask what that means.
When I was a kid, the coming of Memorial Day meant so much more than it does now. It heralded the coming of summer: lazy days, road trips, swimming pools and sunburns. My brain could begin to unclench. Soon, I would sleep in longer, think less, and enjoy more. The anticipation of that heaven was almost as good as days themselves. I’m obsessed with sentences. It’s partly from working as a copy editor.
Every summer the hills that surround Burbank come alive with the sound of music. Nestled in the Hollywood Hills to the south sits one of the most iconic amphitheaters in the world, while to the east, the Verdugo Mountains provide a hillside home for Burbank’s own outdoor music venue. Previous Columns HeadlinesJuly 8th, 2009 A WORD, PLEASE:A retailer in Athens, Ga., recently held a donation drive for the Salvation Army. But it wasn’t your typical ho-hum, run-of-the-mill canned food drive. No, this CVS store posted a sign making it clear that its customers were encouraged to drop off not cans but “cans.” |
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