 Four kids playing on a California beach. What could possibly go wrong? It seemed like such a no-brainer. Two harassed parents, four of us kids under the age of ten, a long drive, a hot day, and a glimpse of an empty white sand beach on the California coast. “Let’s stop for a swim!” my mom said. We pulled over, tugged on our bathing suits, and dashed into the surf. Everyone was having a grand time splashing about in the waves when we noticed a man running towards us across the sand, waving his arms and shouting. At first we couldn’t make out the words. And then we could. “Get out of the water! Get out now! Sharks! Sharks! SHARKS!”  Cue the theme from Jaws. My parents hauled us out of the sea and onto the beach in under a nanosecond. When he got his breath back, the Good Samaritan explained someone had spotted a shark in the shallows off that very beach a few hours earlier. Nowadays you’d expect warning signs all over the place, but at the time, we just thanked our lucky stars — and the Good Samaritan — that we’d been alerted in time to get out of the water without a disaster. That day I learned an important lesson about California: you never know when it’s going to turn really exciting. Back when I was a kid, the danger talk was all about earthquakes, and the adults in my life cultivated an attitude of insouciance. “You call that an earthquake? It barely hit 3.5 on the Richter scale. Didn’t even rattle the dishes. More wine?” But California has really upped its game with wildfires, floods, droughts, heat waves, tsunamis, rising sea levels, tornadoes, hurricanes, landslides, and torrential downpours known as atmospheric rivers. These days it’s hard to tell the weather channel from a horror movie. Officials urge us to be prepared with go-kits, evacuation plans, and two weeks’ worth of food on hand at all times. Planning for so many kinds of disasters all at once is dizzying. Rain boots by the door for flooding, heavy clothing to protect us from burning embers, head lamps for digging through rubble. I’ve read crossbows are the best defense against zombies, should it come to that; I’m not shopping yet, just making a note. “We need to re-stock the Apocalypse Chow Food Locker,” I told Rich on Thursday. “In case we find ourselves under martial law.” Because on top of everything else, we now have marines deployed in our state, and as countless action movies have demonstrated, this is unlikely to end well. Clearly I’ll need a shedload of emotional-support chocolate to get through this summer.  "The Army is a broadsword, not a scalpel," says Bruce Willis's character, General Devereaux, in The Siege. "Trust me, senator, you do not want the Army in an American city." Spoiler alert: he was so right. As my regular readers know, the Apocalypse Chow Food Locker is the shed Rich built during the pandemic to store the extra supplies that won’t fit into our cottage’s skimpy cupboards. And no, we are not filling it with those grisly emergency rations that last for 20 or 30 years. Have you seen what’s in that stuff? The MayDay Emergency Rations that came with our store-bought go-kit are made of enriched flour, vegetable shortening, sugar, corn syrup, soy flour, cornstarch, potassium sorbate, vitamins, and artificial flavor. If I’m going to subsist on a diet of sugar and starch, why not just eat Oreos? Other emergency rations are no better; just look at the chemicals and artificial ingredients Augason Farms calls “corn chowder.”  Yes, there are trace amounts of corn halfway down that list, but mostly it’s stuff like dipotassium phosphate, tocopherols, and sodium hexmetaphosphate. Call me crazy, but I prefer food I can pronounce, taste, and know contains actual sustenance. Honestly, if the end were near, would you want your last meal to be spam and non-nutritive food additives? Rich and I treat our food locker as an outdoor pantry, and this week I brought older jars and cans into the house and restocked the locker with beans, tuna, rice, and other foods we use all the time. More temperature-sensitive ingredients, such as spices, honey, and chocolate, are kept in our kitchen cupboards.  The Apocalypse Chow Food Locker While we were at it, Rich and I hauled out our emergency go-kit for its annual review, tweaking the contents and replacing outdated energy bars and medicines. We keep the contents in three prioritized parts: 1) a back pack with essentials such as high visibility vests, compass, and maps, 2) a tote bag with the first aid kit and a few clothes, and 3) a box of handy gear like headlamps, rope, and duct tape. (See complete emergency kit contents here.) It was a busy couple of days, and it was only late on Friday, when I was tossing out the last of the outdated first aid supplies, that I realized the implications of what I was doing: getting my affairs in order before No Kings Day. A lot of wild talk had been going around, and while I knew I had the moral and constitutional right to assemble peacefully and speak freely, I couldn’t help but wonder just how exciting things might get in California. On Saturday I attended the protest in the nearest city, San Rafael (population 60,000). In the tradition learned from Spanish friends, I met up beforehand with a dozen amigos at a café near the action. Fortified by espresso and convivial chat, our little rag-tag band then strolled down the street to join the crowd of (I'm guessing) 1500 protesters. The signs were feisty, the mood festive, the orderly expression of solidarity inspiring. Nothing terribly exciting happened. Whew! The summer is just getting started, and there’s no telling what surprises California has up its sleeve. Last year we weathered record-setting natural disasters, and this morning I thought I’d check with the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration to see how many of them had cost California taxpayers seriously big bucks. Instead of the promised statistics, I found this notice: “In alignment with evolving priorities, statutory mandates, and staffing changes, NOAA’s National Centers for Environmental Information (NCEI) will no longer be updating the Billion Dollar Weather and Climate Disasters product.” Good thinking! Who needs those pesky old numbers anyway? Just kidding, I was utterly aghast. Wasn’t that notice akin to saying, “Why should that Good Samaritan race along the beach to warn us about dangers we can’t see?” When did weather become a state secret?  California has more natural disasters than any other state in America; they cost us around $16.3 billion a year. (Those are slightly outdated numbers, and apparently we won’t be seeing any new ones). So far, Rich and I have been lucky. Oh sure, occasionally we’ve been bounced out of bed by earthquakes, forced to flee through rising floodwaters, and suffered unexplained power outages. But we’re still standing and so are the house and the Apocalypse Chow Food Locker. Whatever catastrophes this summer brings, I know there will also be friends, family, community, meaningful work, fellowship, laughter, and fun. As a fourth generation Californian, I have learned that, to quote LA author Christopher Paolini, “The trick is to find happiness in the brief gaps between disasters.”  There is always so much more to learn about emergency preparedness... I WON'T POST FOR A FEW WEEKS The days ahead are full of family gatherings, a nephew's wedding, and time with old friends I rarely see. I'll be back in mid-July! FINDING HOPE "Find happiness in the brief gaps between disasters” is part of my series of blog posts exploring ways people help each other find hope in this worrying world. Know someone you think should be featured? Tell me more in the comments section below. See all the posts in this series. DON'T MISS OUT! If you haven't already, take a moment to subscribe so I can let you know when I publish my weekly posts. Just send me an email and I'll take it from there. [email protected] SUBSCRIBED BUT NOT GETTING POST ANNOUNCEMENTS? Check your spam folder. Internet security is in a frenzy these days. If you still can't find it, please let me know. FOR FURTHER READING My bestselling travel memoirs & guides Cozy Places to Eat in Seville My new book: My San Francisco If you haven't read My San Francisco yet, you can order it HERE. You can purchase the paperback edition, in person or online, at Rebound Bookstore in San Rafael, CA Already read this book? I invite you to leave a review HERE. GOING SOMEWHERE? Enter any destination or topic, such as packing light or road food, in the search box below. If I've written about it, you'll find it.  A rookie guide dog wonders when he's getting that ice cream everyone keeps talking about. Rich has always had a firm grasp on life’s essentials. When I mentioned the Puppy Ice Cream Social, he said, “You had me at ice cream.” For me, the irresistible draw was the chance to play with puppies. In these challenging times, there seems to be greater truth than ever to Charles de Gaulle’s famous line, “The more I get to know men, the more I find myself loving dogs.” Humans and dogs have hung out together for 35,000 years, and it’s worked out pretty well for both of us. We give them food, lodging, medical care, treats, toys, and massages, and they pretend to think we are gods. Fair exchange! Ann Landers used to warn, “Don’t accept your dog’s admiration as conclusive evidence that you are wonderful.” Naturally, humans never took her words seriously. Of course, worship is only one of a dog’s responsibilities.  Back in the day, they chased off wolves and disposed of our food scraps. Since then they've branched out into herding sheep, finding truffles, and rescuing little Timmy whenever he falls into the river on an episode of Lassie. In the 13th century St. Francis of Assisi remarked he’d seen “a blind man who in a path was led by a little she-dog.” The Soviets sent them into space. Canines have always had a gift for making the most of new career opportunities. “Why is someone throwing an ice cream social for dogs?” Rich asked. “I thought dogs weren’t supposed to eat ice cream.” True; all dogs, once they are weaned, become lactose intolerant to one degree or another. Our last dog didn't care; she was a total chow hound who loved to steal bites of ice cream. I guess that’s what we got for calling her Eskimo Pie. (For short she was Pie, Pi, or 3.14159.) She never seemed to suffer any ill effects, unless you count her expanding girth. She was not a slender reed. “They give the puppies that fake ice cream made for dogs,” I said. “As for the occasion, it's a graduation party for the latest class of guide dogs for the blind.” As it happens, our county is home to America’s biggest training center for what used to be called “seeing-eye dogs.” Guide Dogs for the Blind (GDB) began in 1942 and was soon helping servicemen who had sacrificed their eyesight on WW II battlefields.  (Left) GDB's first graduating class: humans Lemoyne Cox and Marjorie Cosgrove, dogs Lady and Vicki. (Right) Sgt. Leonard Foulk, age 26, blinded by sniper fire at Battle of Attu, with Blondie. In nearby San Rafael, I often see puppies in training harnesses, learning to navigate crosswalks and to resist the tempting French fries that fall to the ground in sidewalk cafes. Over the past 83 years, 16,000 dog-human teams have graduated from GDB; about 2000 are active right now. When I heard the latest class was celebrating with a party and inviting the community, I was all in. It was a surprisingly sedate affair. When I think of puppies, I think of boisterous play; I have dozens of stories about young Pie stealing hamburgers at picnics, chasing squirrels and raccoons, and jumping through hula hoops to entertain kids. But these young dogs were chosen for their responsible personalities, and a year of training had taught them to pay respectful attention to their human handlers. Frankly, I was in awe and asked one of the trainers how she managed this miracle.  She raises puppies, fosters dogs needing temporary respite, and works for a company that supplies medical alert canines. Ironically, her name is Kat. “I started puppy raising in my sophomore year of high school,” Kat told me. “A friend of mine mentioned to me that her mom puppy-raised. An industry like service animals, where you’re helping people but also hanging out with cool dogs all day, was perfect for me. It was magical to go through high school with a dog.” With GDB’s detailed guidelines, curriculum, and active support, Kat has trained six puppies so far. She also fosters dogs who need a temporary home, for instance while recovering from surgery or a stressful kennel visit. Aside from those volunteer jobs, she holds a paying gig as an administrator in a company that provides diabetic alert dogs, which raise the alarm when their human’s blood sugar begins to get out of whack. “Between my last two dogs, had a little bit of a break, and it was weird,” Kat recalled. “I'd go to the grocery store and I'd be like, 'I'm missing something.' Because I'm used to having a leash in my hand and a dog with the vest on, and it felt so weird; it felt like going naked.” I asked if it was hard to let go of a puppy after the training year. “It’s such a beautiful journey. Every graduation that I have a dog go through, I cry. The whole time. And it's not because I'm missing my dog. It's because this is what the magic in the world is.”  "We’ve had lots of adventures," says Kim. "Before Jango I could barely step outside the front door alone and now we’re crossing oceans. Planes and ferries are no problem to us." Kim and Jango found each other through a guide dog program in Ireland. Puppies and humans are carefully paired on the basis of personality and temperament, taking into account the person's lifestyle, activity level, family, other pets, and living arrangements. Most guide dogs work for six to eight years, and while some continue to live with their handlers during retirement, others become beautifully trained pets in a new family. GDB is entirely funded through private donations and a small online shop. This being Pride Month, LGBTQ+ merchandise is front and center.  One of the t-shirts sold on the GDB website. Looking at the “Guide with Pride” t-shirt, I began to wonder what it might be suggesting about the guide dogs' original romantic inclinations, before they were spayed or neutered. Are there gay dogs? A glance at the Wikipedia page Homosexual behavior in animals revealed that same-sex sexual behavior is astonishingly widespread and has been documented among 1500 different species. Yes, including dogs and cats. Who knew? Actually, scientists have known about such goings-on forever — or at least for the last 2300 years, since Aristotle first recorded lively same-sex hanky panky among pigeons, partridges, and quails.  A quarter of all black swan pairings are same sex. Sometimes a pair of males will form a threesome with a female to get eggs so they can raise family. In 1911 a British Antarctic explorer documented homosexual behavior among penguins, but his report was considered too shocking for public release and was suppressed. Secret copies were circulated among scientists, written in a sort of code mixing English text and Greek letters to make it inaccessible to most readers. The report was finally published openly in 2012. In these more permissive times, Wikipedia isn't shy about sharing racy photos of same-sex frolicking by creatures ranging from lions to fruit flies. The steamy video of a pair of male Bonin flying fox bats cavorting on a tree branch gives new meaning to the the term party animals.  A Bonin flying fox bat, shown here posing for his Tinder photo I don’t pretend to understand all the whys and wherefores of love — human, animal, or otherwise. But I do know love makes the world more beautiful, the hard times more bearable, and the best of times so joyful I wish I had a tail to wag. “Our dogs help us find independence, confidence and self-worth,” said Emily, a musician and writer who lives in Florida with her guide dog, York. “They teach us that our lives have value. They help us reclaim our dignity and self-determination… And his love overwhelms me. It is as powerful as a symphony, as beautiful as a night full of stars. It’s a love I can never hope to measure or comprehend. But it’s a love I will spend my whole life trying to return.”  I'm sure this puppy didn't love me just because I had ice cream in my hand. I'M FEATURED IN SHAWN FETTIG'S SECOND PODCAST Leaving America E2: The Easy Escapes in Europe Deep Dive with Shawn This one covers the nuts and bolts of making your move: visas, rents, living expenses, and more. Shawn points out it doesn't require exceptional wealth or connections — just planning, patience, and paperwork. deepdivepodcast.buzzsprout.com (Don't have time for the whole podcast? My quote is about 23 minutes in. Enjoy!) FINDING HOPE The Puppy Ice Cream Social is part of a series of blog posts exploring ways people help each other find hope in this worrying world. Know someone you think should be featured? Tell me more in the comments section below. See all the posts in this series. DON'T MISS OUT! If you haven't already, take a moment to subscribe so I can let you know when I publish my weekly posts. Just send me an email and I'll take it from there. [email protected] SUBSCRIBED BUT NOT GETTING POST ANNOUNCEMENTS? Check your spam folder. Internet security is in a frenzy these days. If you still can't find it, please let me know. FOR FURTHER READING My bestselling travel memoirs & guides Cozy Places to Eat in Seville My new book: My San Francisco If you haven't read My San Francisco yet, you can order it HERE. You can purchase the paperback edition, in person or online, at Rebound Bookstore in San Rafael, CA Already read this book? I invite you to leave a review HERE. GOING SOMEWHERE? Enter any destination or topic, such as packing light or road food, in the search box below. If I've written about it, you'll find it.  Remember when you were little and would do anything to avoid eating vegetables? I vividly recall being eight years old and watching in awe as a toddler of my acquaintance had the bright idea of getting rid of unwanted mashed potatoes by spooning them into their diaper. (Not surprisingly, this ploy did not escape adult notice for long.) Kids haven't lost any of that rebel spirit, as you can see from the excuses I recently found on Reddit. “This tastes … unlucky to me.” “Can we donate this meal to charity?” “These blueberries tickle my brain.” “This tastes like Delaware.” To which another reader commented, “At least it didn’t taste like New Jersey.” “This sends my mouth into outer space. (That’s bad.)” Huh? I looked that one up, and discovered that contrary to all probability, astronomers actually have figured out what outer space tastes like: raspberries.  Raspberries. Photo: NASA That’s right, I said space tastes like raspberries. Raspberries get their flavor from a chemical called ethyl formate, which has been found in large quantities in a giant dust ball at the center of the Milky Way. The truly astonishing thing is that back here on Earth, the manufacturers of Milky Way bars haven’t capitalized on that fun fact by making raspberry-flavored candy. Maybe they think it sounds too healthy to attract consumers. Getting anyone to eat wholesome food is an uphill battle these days. Studies show that only 12% of Americans eat the recommended amounts of fruits and vegetables. Shockingly, 25% say they’ve never eaten a vegetable in their lives. This may explain why, in a survey, only about a third of US adults could correctly identify everyday fruits and veggies. Wondering how you’d do in the survey? Here’s the first question. Take your time.  If you rushed to judgement with cabbage, I’m sorry to inform you the answer is: baby iceberg lettuce. If you thought it was cauliflower or artichoke, we need to talk. Is society ready to throw fresh produce on the compost heap of history? That question is causing concern among physicians, nutritionists, and anyone who cares about the future of the human race. If you are what you eat, it’s worrying that more folks are familiar with the menu at McDonald’s than with the vegetable aisle at the supermarket. To give kids a heads-up that nature does not shrink-wrap broccoli or deliver carrots trimmed to uniform size in a plastic bag, roughly 20% of US grammar and high schools maintain a food garden. Does watching lunch grow change kids’ perspectives? To find out, this week I visited the Mill Valley Children’s Garden, a 22,000 square-foot garden that’s been part of the curriculum at Edna Maguire Elementary School for 35 years.  And there are chickens! Here volunteer Anita introduces me to a Buff Orpington called Peaches. David, the garden manager, took me around and introduced me to his favorites: splendid artichokes, robust cabbages, leafy greens rejoicing in the unusual name of speckled trout lettuce, the kid-sized dwarf fruit trees in the food forest, the greenhouse seedlings just getting their start. “It’s all organic,” he said, automatically picking up a hose and dousing his darlings with a fine mist. “We use no pesticides at all. If insects take a bite, we just trim the leaf off.”  David waters plants in the greenhouse of the Mill Valley Children's Garden. He explained that each of the grammar school’s nearly 400 children spends time in the garden on a regular basis, learning about planting and patience and the joy of seeing your seedlings grow up and produce mouthwatering tomatoes. Intertwined with those experiences are lessons in science, art, math, writing, and history. “For example, in the third grade we talk a lot about local indigenous cultures in the county,” explained volunteer Anita, president of the Friends of Mill Valley Children’s Garden. “So our Garden Educator will bring in subjects like what would the Miwoks have eaten here. Talking about climate change, it’s about how much water you need to get yourself a beet versus a pound of beef.” The most lasting lessons these young gardeners learn are about themselves. “There are kids who find this is where they shine, this is where they come alive,” said Anita. “They can engage and be calm, be present. They learn independence and confidence. There’s a lot of pride when they show their parents what they’ve grown.” The kids eat plenty of the produce, either on the spot or from harvest boxes sold to their parents as a fundraiser to support the garden. After that, David explained, “We either give it to the teachers or donate to a community kitchen, usually Community Action Marin, where they cook meals for low-income school children.” For me, that was the most feel-good moment of the whole conversation. Because if anyone should be receiving a share of the garden’s bounty, it’s neighbors in need. Marin is a prosperous county, yet one in five residents — 48,000 people, including 11,753 kids — are worrying right now about where their next meal is coming from. In America, 50 million people experience hunger; worldwide, 733 million suffer from malnutrition. And I don’t have to explain how funding cutbacks are now making the situation much, much worse. Thirty years ago, worries about food insecurity inspired Alaskan garden columnist Jeff Lowenfels to propose an ingenious solution.  His Plant a Row for the Hungry campaign invited home gardeners to expand their production just a bit, creating extras that could go to those who were struggling. The Garden Writers of America picked up on the idea, inspiring folks across the country to pitch in and help out. “Since then, more than 20 million pounds of produce, providing more than 80 million meals, have been donated through the campaign by home gardeners,” wrote the AP’s Jessica Damaino.“‘All of this has been achieved without government subsidy or bureaucratic red tape — just people helping people,’ according to organizers on the campaign’s website. And there’s no big advertising campaign, either — just garden columnists and their readers spreading the word.” And now I’m spreading the word to you. If you have a backyard garden, consider planting an extra row of whatever crops you’ve got going, then find a local food bank, a community fridge, or another collection point that will distribute the fruits of your labors to neighbors who are going without.  WW II Victory Garden poster. Photo: Etsy We’ve done this successfully in the past. Victory Gardens were introduced in WW I, and by 1944 there were 20 million of them in backyards, community plots, and pots on balconies and windowsills. That year we, the people produced 10 billion pounds of food — 40% of our nation’s vegetable supply. Rich’s parents were part of that effort. They had a Victory Garden when Rich was born (on June 6, 1944 — yes, D-Day was his B-Day!), and they kept it up for five years after the war. As a toddler, Rich learned to loathe the beets and rhubarb growing in abundance behind his house. But he developed a lifelong love of digging in dirt; he agrees with the Chinese saying, “Those who plant a garden plant happiness.” And when we have the good fortune to share that happiness with our neighbors, we are twice blessed. RESOURCES "Name That Produce" Quiz How to Start a Victory Garden (Farmer's Almanac) Find a Local Food Bank What's a Community Fridge?  HOT NEWS! I'M FEATURED IN SHAWN FETTIG'S NEW PODCAST Leaving America E1: Should You Stay or Should You Go? Deep Dive with Shawn What if you could escape the endless news cycle, afford healthcare without a second mortgage, and actually use your vacation days without guilt? Welcome to "Leaving America," the limited series where we're diving into why a record 40% of Americans... deepdivepodcast.buzzsprout.com (Don't have time for the whole podcast? My quote is the very first one; it happens around 3 minutes in. Enjoy!) FINDING HOPE The Children's Victory Garden is part of a series of blog posts exploring ways people help each other find hope in this worrying world. Know someone you think should be featured? Tell me more in the comments section below. See all the posts in this series. DON'T MISS OUT! If you haven't already, take a moment to subscribe so I can let you know when I publish my weekly posts. Just send me an email and I'll take it from there. [email protected] SUBSCRIBED BUT NOT GETTING POST ANNOUNCEMENTS? Check your spam folder. Internet security is in a frenzy these days. If you still can't find it, please let me know. FOR FURTHER READING My bestselling travel memoirs & guides Cozy Places to Eat in Seville My new book: My San Francisco If you haven't read My San Francisco yet, you can order it HERE. You can purchase the paperback edition, in person or online, at Rebound Bookstore in San Rafael, CA Already read this book? I invite you to leave a review HERE. GOING SOMEWHERE? 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