Phil Dirkx

Our long-running water-rate quarrel here in Paso Robles has some of the symptoms of an autoimmune disorder.

On Super Bowl Sunday, I was part of a gathering that sang “Drop-Kick Me Jesus Through the Goalposts of Life.”

A man in the homeless shelter’s dining room seemed anxious. He repeatedly said he had to use the phone. When that cordless phone was finally available, he sat down with it at the table where I sat. He called a hospital and asked if his wife had been admitted.