Driving home Thursday evening in rural south Manteca, I was struck by the sight of black foliage atop a pair of tall dead trees in the middle of a field. I noticed the leaves moving, darting to and fro which I found puzzling. As it turned out, they were not leaves at all. They were little black birds looking for a crepuscular place to roost for the night. At least, that's what I thought they were doing.
September 02, 2012|
The 7-year-old boy stayed close to his brother. Concern was etched all over his face. He was trying hard to hold back his tears. His backpack, looking more bulky than his slight frame, was slung over his shoulders. He wouldn't let go of his brother's own backpack, deploying its wheels and holding on to it by its handle. His small red and white bicycle was lying on the street corner. His brother's own wheels were in the middle of the street, just a few feet away, its front wheel pinned under the right front tire of the ...