San Diego, California. Looking out over the harbor, runway, freeway from the elegant little house on Thorn Street. Scott and Sandra go to work early so I have these mornings to think about California and family and my life. You can join me if you like for a few sessions of nostalgic sharing.
San Diego was home for a while in the 90s. I actually lived up in Escondido, commuting down here to the city for that MSW I used so briefly and for several of my various jobs—the most interesting of the latter as a night supervisor in a halfway house for men getting out of the pen. My security weapon being one of those giant flashlights that could easily render a large meanie unconscious. The residents were an interesting lot, from the OCD bank robber who stayed up scrubbing floors most of the night to a Charles Keating…
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