Phil Dirkx

Thanksgiving is next week. Someone may ask, “What are you thankful for?”

I can’t find my father’s old putty knife. I hope I didn’t lose it, although it isn’t much use anymore. In 1945, Pop wore away three quarters of the putty knife’s blade while scraping every square inch of the exterior walls of our 2 1⁄2-story house.

This isn’t your grandfather’s Paso Robles anymore. I’ve suspected that for several years but didn’t want to admit it. I finally faced it Tuesday when Paso voters rejected the water rate increase.