Homeless plans for Thanksgiving On a warm autumn afternoon, a homeless man lies against a wall on First Avenue just south of Ash Street. He's sharing a bottle of cheap vodka with an older homeless …

Among the pines in Pine Valley As someone who has primarily lived in suburbia, I find myself escaping to small-town USA when I am in need of a change in scenery. Most San Diegans head …

Men in overalls When I was in junior high, we lived at Tamarack Lodge in Mammoth Lakes. My parents managed Tamarack and a couple of other mountain lodges that sat high in Mammoth's Upper Lakes …

In Case They Attack “I’ve been melancholy. It made me very sad. Deep-down sad. I realized immediately that our lives would never be the same again. “We’ve never had war on our shores. And I’ve …

Dutiful Daughter After three days, I lost all feeling that something had “happened” to my body. I realized it would be possible to deny that this had ever happened to me, if I chose to …

It Would Turn You To Toast Pete Scully, a battalion chief for the California Department of Forestry's fire protection agency, stands next to his camper-shelled pickup truck at a Highway 94 turnoff east of where …

The ideal hipster Thanksgiving As I’ve pointed out before, no holiday lacks the potential for a hipster makeover. Thanksgiving is no exception. Not only is it nestled comfortably between epic Halloween costumes and ugly-Christmas-sweater parties, …

We didn't have a street address in Pine Valley I took my children on a trip to my past. Friday after Thanksgiving, I herded Rebecca, Angela, Johnny, and Ben into our van. Lucy, who had …

We’re getting ready to hit the road. This Thursday at 4:00 a.m., I plan to herd my five children into our loaded Ford E- 350 van and head north toward Seattle. We’re vacationing this year …

We don’t go out to the movies very often. After last Monday, I remember why. Jack and I have taken our kids to the movies in what Ben calls a “feeater” exactly twice. The first …

Last Saturday I got mad. I don’t get mad very often. I’d been building up to this particular tantrum for the past few months. Jack has been busy. Jack’s always busy. Since the first of …

My expectations used to be higher for Mother’s Day. When I was a young mother with only small children, I believed the world should stop for the mid-May holiday. In the weeks leading up to …

Every time I do something new with my kids, I feel a little older. Last Christmas, Jack’s parents sent us a check for $200 with a note that read, “Please use this gift to do …

Tis the season…for strep and high fevers and mopping vomit off the bathroom floor. I’m feeling a little melancholy this year. Like the song at the beginning of A Charlie Brown Christmas. Sad and slow. …

On my 12th anniversary, I ran into an old friend. Sitting on a low wall at Legoland waiting for three of my five children to emerge from an exhibit, I saw Brian walk past. He …

The last Sunday in October, we awoke to the smell of smoke and an ochre sky. Jack dozed. I followed Johnny and Ben downstairs. “Can I play Bionicle website?” Johnny asked. His thick chestnut hair …

Friday evening, my unborn baby slipped from my body in a mess of blood and pain and disappointment. The day had not started out well. I awoke Friday morning to find I’d begun spotting. I …

On Mother’s Day this year, I will be nine weeks closer to being a mother again. My husband Jack is thrilled. My five kids are ecstatic. I am filled with joy and nausea. Two and …

A slow migration has begun in my house. About six months ago, my oldest daughter, Rebecca, started borrowing my clothes. Rebecca has borrowed my clothes before. To play dress-up. Over the years, dresses and suits …

The liturgical year rolls around. In each of the 13 years that have passed since I came back to the Catholic Church, I have lived the Church’s year like a shadow of the secular year. …

I took my children on a trip to my past. Friday after Thanksgiving, I herded Rebecca, Angela, Johnny, and Ben into our van. Lucy, who had awakened with a fever, stayed at home with my …

Where are we going, Mommy?” my oldest son Johnny asked me this past Friday morning. We had already dropped Johnny’s three older sisters — Rebecca, Angela, and Lucy — at school. We had driven home. …

Rebecca loves Nickel Creek. We all love Nickel Creek. When our family odyssey into country music began early this year, Nickel Creek was one of the first groups that caught our collective ear. Listening to …

We left San Marcos in the middle of the night. Well, not exactly the middle of the night. We left San Marcos at 4:45 on a still-dark summer morning. It just felt like the middle …

I wasn’t a very good mother on Mother’s Day. My husband Jack did everything right. He let me sleep in. He let me take a nap. He took the kids to the beach so I …

Every time I read about Andrea Yates, I shudder. She’s just like me. High school valedictorian, good grades in college, pursued a profession, stopped working outside the home when she had her first child, deeply …

I miss my dad at odd times. My father died last March. He was 72. For the 20 years before his death, he suffered from heart disease. He had two triple-bypass surgeries and more heart …

The phone rang around 7:40. I was standing just inside the open bathroom door tucking my black Land's End T-shirt into a gray knit skirt. Eight-year-old Rebecca and six-year-old Angela had dressed themselves in their …

There were days I didn't think I would make it to the end of the summer. I have five children. One is a baby. One is three years old and not quite ready for preschool. …

The Iast time my husband Jack and I took our kids to the Del Mar Fair was three years ago. Now I remember why we don’t go every year. Three years ago, our older son …

I remember my first bra. I was in sixth grade. We lived in Pine Valley out in East County. My mother did not over-romanticize girlhood rituals. When I was in third grade, in response to …

I had a hard time waking up on Mother’s Day. I’d been up until 12:30 a.m. folding laundry. With five children aged eight and younger, we generate a lot of dirty clothes. Every week, I …

The day before my 39th birthday, I went to the grocery store by myself. Normally when I go to Vons, I take some or all of my five children. We’re quite a sight. Rebecca and …

Angela gazed at my great naked body. From her perspective, eyes about level with my protruding navel, I must have looked like a super tanker viewed from the deck of a small sailing ship.

Jack still talks wistfully about the year he lived on Nautilus Street in La Jolla. At night if he left his bedroom window open. Jack could hear the surf building a block away at Windansea.

To commemorate Father's Day, this issue contains a collection of reflections from Reader writers about their fathers: The Last Tag Sale — Jeanne Schinto An Air of Exoticism — Duncan Shepherd Kinder Than I Would …

During my adolescence, my father had a hard time keeping a job. His problems began when I was 11. We lived in Pine Valley out in East County. My father sold surgical supplies for a …

“Room for another baby” came into my head like someone whispering over my shoulder.

As I sped toward the hospital, I thought of the times Jack has driven me to the hospital in the middle of the night. Those times, when our children were born, the streets seemed strangely intimate.

I walked to Bob’s house at 5:00. Bob had his coat in his hand when he greeted me. Bob's hair was still wet from the shower, and the smell of his aftershave made my eyes water in the dry mountain air.

I held the spoon to Johnny’s lips. He opened his mouth for a moment, then closed his lips tight. Sticky purple suspension flowed down Johnny’s chin and into the folds of his neck. “Oh, Johnny,” I complained.

I looked down at Lucy while Rebecca wrote out Lucy’s request. “What if Santa can’t get Prince of Egypt guys?” I asked. “What else might you want?” “Nuffing,” Lucy answered and carried her book back to the living room.

“They don’t have enough money to take care of the baby or they’re not married to the baby’s father or they’re very young and don’t know how to take care of the baby at all.”

When you start getting the baby urge, remember the heartburn and the breathlessness and the fact that for six or seven months your husband doesn’t want to touch you with a ten-foot pole. Remember.

At the doctor, Lucy sat quietly and read a book while Dr. Gross snipped the Frankenstein stitches from Johnny’s head. A quick peek in Johnny’s ears revealed an ear infection left over from a cold.

Almost every Thanksgiving, we drove to my grandparents. I remember the excitement as we neared Crown Point, the great arc and half-arc of the old two-lane bridges that carried Ingraham Street over Mission Bay.

While I tried to console the two cranky babies, four-year-old Angela had taken her younger sister Lucy and Adrienne’s two- and three-year-old upstairs to play “Fort.” Every few minutes, I called, “Are you guys doing okay up there?”

I turned Johnny’s shirts into little squares and sorted 57 socks while Jay Leno told jokes and Kevin Eubanks laughed. When Jack and I went up to bed after midnight, we each carried an overflowing laundry basket.