The hardest time to write a column is when you’re leaving on vacation the next day. Karen and I, along with some friends, are headed in a car caravan down to the tip of the Baja Peninsula to San Ignacio Lagoon, which is one of the few places where the gray whales go to give birth. One of the most remarkable parts of it is that the gray whales are totally unafraid of humans, which is probably not surprising because they generally run about 40 feet long and weigh about 35 tons. What is truly remarkable, however, is they actually seem to seek out human contact, and will come alongside small boats to be petted. They bring their young calves with them and encourage the calves to make human contact. Touching the whales is illegal in the U.S., but not in Mexico, so this promises to be a unique experience.
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Walking around Legacy Park this morning, I spied a sign on the fence across the street that said “The White Party” at Malibu Bluffs Park. My initial thought was Malibu Bluffs Park would seem like a strange venue to hold a Klan rally or perhaps a Donald Trump political event. So I crossed the street to read the small print and saw it was being sponsored by the City of Malibu, which ruled out a Klan meeting or a Trump rally, I assumed. Still, it’s so hard to know what language to use these days, as there is always someone to take offense at anything and everything. Perhaps coming from an earlier generation, my personal reaction to most of this hypersensitivity is to say, “Get over it.” I’m beginning to believe we are raising a generation of thin-skinned wimps.
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On every Sunday at the Cornucopia Foundation’s Farmers Market, the most popular food booth is not one selling healthy food — no, the easy winner is the sausage booth, selling Kielbasa sausage with all the trimmings (heart burn guaranteed). Hot dogs, Polish sausage and half-a-dozen other things you will be re-tasting all afternoon are available. Many of the people in line have that “I’m a vegan” look but “what the hell, no one’s perfect.” I understand you get absolution with your sausage.
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Last week, the tide was incredibly high and the ocean was smacking up against the concrete bulkhead of our condominium complex on Carbon Beach. The beach was entirely underwater, and a little exhausted sea lion pup crawled up the concrete steps from the beach and stopped at the top of the concrete landing to try and catch its breath. I knew it was exhausted because when I walked over to the gate on the other side of the landing with my dog Ella next to me, the little pup just looked at us through the gate, too tired to be frightened. We backed off, and when I checked it out an hour or so later, it had crawled under the gate onto the pool deck where it was sunning itself. We left it there and later it was gone, hopefully back into the ocean when it got less rough.
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Malibu’s High School’s fight with the school district made the big time today when the story hit the pages of the New York Times. The school district, State Toxic Agency and EPA all say containing the PCBs is enough and not dangerous. The advocates and some parents say it’s not enough and still poses a risk. Perhaps in the old days, an EPA approval was enough to maintain credibility but not so much today. The damage done to the EPA by the Flint lead water crises is incalculable. People are no longer sure when the agency can be trusted, which is a very deep hole for a federal agency to dig out of.
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It’s a little too early to say anything about the Wisconsin primary because the polls are still open. But I’m worried about what happens after this primary season is over. We’re not going to have anything to talk about. Hopefully ordinary conversation may actually stage a comeback.