May 6, 2020

Bird brains

There is an unmistakable tone to the voice of someone who is about to share what I’ve come to call a “Sad Animal Story”. It’s regretful, a little hushed, and has a certain inexorable quality to it, as if it cannot be helped.

“No. Nope. Stop. That’s an SAS, isn’t it?” I’ll warn my husband, as he forgets who he’s talking to and attempts to begin one. I can spot an SAS at twenty paces, often on the first, plaintive, drawn-out syllable.

Last week found us sitting on our patio, enjoying the unfolding…

The secret weapon of Pete’s ground game are Volunteer Virgins like me

At the tender age of 59, I’m a volunteer for a presidential campaign for the first time in my life. It’s changed how I view just about everything about the election.

I’m like an awful lot of women in this country. Not just other Democratic women, but like disaffected, demoralized…

Epitaph for the Vision Board

Looking for a new New Year’s ritual? Try visiting a cemetery.

When I lived in California, on or around New Year’s Day, I often found myself hunched over a large piece of foam core, with a glue stick, a stack of magazines and a pair of scissors, creating a Vision Board. To it I would paste photos of that year’s dreamed-of…

Deerly beloved

A local deer hangin’ with Zorra the dog, watching golfers tee off in Genoa, Nevada.

The town I live in, just over the mountain from Lake Tahoe, is famous for three things: being the oldest “settlement” in Nevada, the Genoa Bar — a sort of alcoholic Disneyland — and deer. Yes, I know your town probably has deer, too, and they eat your roses. But…

A day at the beach, Nevada style

The Nevada State Fossil, *ichthyosaurus*

I lived on California’s Monterey Bay for nearly 40 years, within walking distance to the beach for half of it. When my husband first proposed a move east of the Sierra, I rejected it out of hand. Because…ocean.

Nevada doesn’t have one. At least, not right now. But Nevada had…

Just plane babies

I had to fly this week, after a long hiatus. And something about it felt…weird.

On my return from Chicago, I had a layover at LAX (You Can’t Get There from Here is the Reno-Tahoe tagline.) And I finally put my finger on it.

I’d voluntarily gotten into yet another…

Green tea blues

Would it surprise you to learn that green tea is not actually supposed to taste like paint stripper? That it’s not supposed to give you an instant ulcer as acid bores through your stomach lining? …

Basin and (St)range: why Nevada will never have to “keep” itself weird.

Mountains and the space between mountains: Nevada is the beginning of the Great Basin

You’ve probably seen a “Keep Austin Weird” t-shirt or bumper sticker — the catchphrase was even appropriated by my former hometown, Santa Cruz, California. While I applaud that noble sentiment, my new home state of Nevada needs no such assistance. …

Winter blunderland

On a sunny March afternoon last year, I took my 20-year-old niece Francesca for a little Nordic ski outing south of Lake Tahoe. Fran had never before put on a pair of skis, cross-country or otherwise, but she took to it like a duck to (frozen) water.

The Eastern Sierra, from the Carson Valley; Heavenly Valley ski resort is at the upper right.

“How often do…

How a group of male Nevada lawmakers accidentally liberated American women

Imagine that it’s 1931 and you’re an American woman married to a cheating bastard. (Go ahead, I’ll wait. This may be easier for some of you than others.) Let’s say you want to leave Mr. Screwmore. But this is the 1930s. …

There is an unmistakable tone to the voice of someone who is about to share what I’ve come to call a “Sad Animal Story”. It’s regretful, a little hushed, and has a certain inexorable quality to it, as if it cannot be helped.

Peggy Wynne Borgman