For those of you following my stories through the years, you have an idea where I come from. I’m WEIRD. By that I don’t just mean strange or peculiar (though I’ve been called that as well); I mean the phenomenon that’s been noticed among psychologists looking at who participates in…

You might say I came of age at the dawn of political correctness. It was a generation ago. I was in college, back when Baby Boomer academics, those folks who opposed Vietnam and the draft, hit their career stride. They began questioning all that Dead White Male canon of Western…

For you loyal readers, you may recognize the journey-based subheading: it’s almost the same one I used on a post four years back—a lifetime ago, seems like, in the lead up to the last Presidential election. There I told about my immigration path in America. …

I still remember my first brilliant-jerk boss. It was decades ago, back when shooting video meant bulky cameras and VHS cassettes. Eli (not his real name) was a local boy wonder, a wunderkind of Spielberg proportions, in my mind at least: a twenty-six-year-old medical resident who also had a thriving…

Almost five years ago, my then-domestic partner/now-husband, our two pets, and I, packed our things and moved away from San Francisco’s Potrero Hill neighborhood. …

The biggest progressive goal ever for a time gone insane. — “My Daddy makes four thousand dollars a week!” There it was. My earliest introduction to income inequality, sitting on the dock of a bay at summer camp with a group of fellow ten-year-old boys, back in the heart of the Reagan era. Never mind the appropriateness of a kid that…