A long, long time ago kids there were things called newspapers and they hired addled, discontented skeptics, recent releasees and other misfits to work at these enterprises which were, believe it or not, actually printed on paper.
Odd, we know.
Recently, the survivors of one such enterprise, a lonely outpost based in the middle of what used to be the endless orchards of Pleasanton and Walnut Creek, gathered to pick up where they left off – toasting each other, those who have left ahead of us, and to tell a few stories on each other.
Most of these accounts were true but largely unprintable – and not because of the paper shortage. This particular conclave was convened in Lafayette, the police were not summoned and the stand-by defibrillators went unused. Age-old barriers preventing fraternization between print and broadcast types were lowered for the evening so we could hear some good local TV tales, too.
It was a grand evening made better by the presence of old friends. You may know some of them or recognize them by name. We were very pleased to have been invited – and not just because there was beer and free food.