Ian Anderson 5 p.m., Sept. 27
Stories by Debra Ginsberg
Where I live, no major high-volume road cuts apart the 'hood. People can cross the street without becoming dead. The amoeba-shaped Balboa Park Municipal Golf Course and grid-busting canyons have made a rabbit warren of the streets.
A mom resists fruit chews.
It was Marissa who was the star of the group. Marissa had brought a packaged lunch direct from the supermarket shelves. The little container sported sections for small taco chips, taco sauce, and shredded cheese.
Drugs and the extraordinary child.
There were several IV lines and a fetal monitor that amplified the baby's heartbeat to a level that was impossible to ignore.