I've seen a young man with a long beard and a drum sitting alone on a rock in ohlone, absently tapping his feet in the dewy grass and breathing deeply the cold wet air.

When I saw that Chez Panisse was serving crawdaddies (the menu called them crayfish, but I know a crawdaddy when I see it), I relaxed. I didn't eat the ugly creatures when my brother fished them out of irrigation ditches back on our farm near Roswell, and