By Charlotte K. Jarmy

The San Francisco Chronicle’s television critic calls himself “Cranky Pants” and gets away with eviscerating the shows he really dislikes. Another Chronicle columnist vents her ire with devastating honesty - and reaps a loyal following. With some trepidation, I’m going to try their style, and worry about any consequences later.

Here we go! The major objects of my daily irritation are SUVs. I’m aware there are many in Los Altos and all over the Peninsula. I counted 22 rushing by me as I idly sat in my car outside Safeway on First Street. When I drive, they seem to take up much of the lane closest to me, and I have to speed up or slow down to avoid the adrenaline rush. When I park, by some law of fatal destiny I come out and find an SUV on either side of me. It takes courage to back out when I can’t see cars approaching me. Therefore, I inch out.

All right, next. When I try walking with a cane along my street, there are several driveways that continue to the street and create a hazard for the less-than-confident person who tries to get to the smooth walk on the other side. What to do? I stopped walking outside and bought a treadmill, a pretty expensive solution. Who is responsible for the rough driveway - the city or the homeowner?

Another problem: moving across Main Street at State using the pedestrian crosswalk, but rushing to avoid cars going too fast. Where are they going? To lunch? To meet the girls? To the post office? I resolve not to use that crosswalk again. One fatal pedestrian accident is one too many.

Then there’s the traffic on Pine Lane when drivers use it as a quick way to reach either San Antonio Road or Los Altos Avenue. My instinct is to shout, “Slow down!” but too often the drivers are on their cell phones or have their radio turned up so loud they might not even hear a police siren. We really do need a light at San Antonio Road. The stop sign there does its job of stopping me, but I’m not the problem.

There, I feel better. I can focus on the High Five. I drive happily through the streets where beautiful roses catch my eye and make me forget the daily headlines. I often wonder why some flowers, like our lilacs, bloom for such a short time. We took pictures of our golden daffodils in all their glory, but they are gone now. Other beauties have taken their place, like our carpet roses, undemanding and long-lasting.

I enjoy reading the columns of my fellow Town Crier writers. Each of us develops a different theme, whether it be philosophical, political or nostalgic. We also present our views in a way that resonates with our heritage and our personal attitudes as affected by the passage of time.

The sense of security I get from the surrounding mountains makes me realize how lucky we are to be so close to nature. Even the ocean and the bay are nearby but do not threaten us with monster waves. Instead, they offer an escape from the crowded highways and the busy malls. I am thankful that my nerves are not irritated by the din of elevated trains or the oppressive heat of subways that I hated in New York.

People in our local community reflect the neighborly attitudes that security brings. Almost all passersby greet others with smiles, be they strangers or not. The YMCA on Grant Road is a case in point. People of all ages, many with varying abilities, make the facility a welcoming part of every day. I am grateful for the kindness and consideration I find there.

The painful part of May, Mother’s Day, is over now. Ron’s flowers still brighten my family room. My memories of Fred and Charlie darkened the day for a while, but we moved on, dined out with my brother and my sister-in-law and marveled at the sky so blue with hovering dark clouds.

That’s what living is all about.