The chicken or the egg? We know the answer to that question - don't we? Some scientists claim that the chicken (a bird) had to come first in order to lay the egg so that it could be hatched. Now you ask, "Where did that "bird" come from originally? Didn't it evolve from a dinosaur, over time? This is getting complicated, isn't it?

I know that it's too late to turn the "town" clock back to 1972 when Petaluma's population was 26,100; let alone 1858, when "our town" was declared a "Chartered City" by the California State Legislature on April 12^th. If you read the lead article (p.1) in today's Press Democrat, you know what I'm referring to.

I know that it's too late to turn the "town" clock back to 1972 when Petaluma's population was 26,100; let alone 1858, when "our town" was declared a "Chartered City" by the California State Legislature on April 12^th. If you read the lead article (p.1) in today's Press Democrat (1/29), you know what I'm referring to.

Yesterday was both a sad day and a very happy day. Happy - because I was able to participate in the 30^th Bay Area Environmental Education Resources Fair (BAEER Fair) at the Marin Civic Center. Sad - because some old friends and programs were not there.

It's been sometime since Hammerhead posted any "food for thought" quotes for your consideration. Martin Luther King, Jr. is responsible for so many memorable quotes. One that is most appropriate for these times is, "Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter."

I know my regular readers might be getting tired of my "preaching" about being ready for the next BIG earthquake. Although eight of my blogs have been posted under the Emergency Preparedness heading, another dozen or so blogs have dealt with the need for individual households and neighborhoods to take active steps to become better prepared to handle disasters because emergency first responders may not be available to respond to our calls for assistance for 72 hours or longer. In other words, government can't do it all.

Whenever I drive by 423 E. Washington Street, I glance up to the porch expecting to see Bill sitting in his chair smoking a pipe and watching the "passing parade" of people. My thoughts go back to the days when I would visit with Bill and his wife, Jane, to mingle and to chat about the people he had interviewed and had been photographed with over the years.