Thoughts on the 'Mr. Los Altos' bust: Publisher's Perspective

Here are my two cents worth of ideas regarding the future location of the Walter Singer bust.


Prepared for the future: Haugh About That?

With my stubby snout smashed up against my plate, I happily licked off the remains of chocolate cake and vanilla ice cream. Rooting to polish off the last remnants of my sixth birthday party, life was good until my mother walked in. My pigpen dream was disturbed and my joyfully gluttonous moment destroyed.


Whom can you trust?: Haugh About That?

Waving my pink poodle skirt with all the fervor of a matador preparing to tease a raging bull, I blinked my 20-year-old eyes and gave a come-hither look to indicate, “I’m ready!” Little did I know that the blind trust I had in this moment of divine faith would be shattered with one short twirl.

In 1972, I was spreading my theatrical wings in the musical “Mame” at the University of San Francisco. Wildly dancing the jitterbug under intense lighting, the routine was perfectly choreographed, from the flip of my blond curls to the syncopated tap in my toes. We’d practiced the number flawlessly over and over, but as Murphy’s Law would have it, there are exceptions to any given rule.


You may have already won!: A Piece of My Mind

There is something irresistible in the idea of buried treasure brought to light. We love to hear about the dusty picture in the attic that turns out to be a genuine Rembrandt, the stock certificate in the bottom of the neglected safe deposit box that has been accumulating stock splits and dividends for decades, the costume jewelry purchased at a garage sale that turns out to be genuine diamonds. We all want to star on “Antiques Roadshow.”


What Los Altos needs – a good downhome diner: A Piece of My Mind

From what I saw on our recent back-roads trip across the country, the United States has not become one homogenized culture from East to West – it only looks that way from the interstates. And though California has harvested much of the best of the East in creating a mix of cuisines, traditions and cultures we call Californian, we did leave a few good things out. One of the missing pieces: the diner.

The classic diner was a castoff railroad diner car, clad in aluminum outside and featuring big windows so that you could monitor passersby, a tiny kitchen, red-vinyl upholstered booths and a red Formica counter trimmed in aluminum, with red-vinyl upholstered stools along the counter. To the joy of children everywhere, the stools could spin. Fortunately, the diner also had waitresses of a certain age, who might be named Edna or Mildred or Gertie, but who could be counted on to tell children (and their parents, too) to stop fooling around and eat their vegetables.


Adventures in hugging: No Shoes, Please

A couple of months ago, a friend recommended that I go see Mata Amritanandamayi Devi, or, as she’s better known, Amma, the “Hugging Saint” of India. Amma (“Mother”) was on a U.S. tour at the time and had been scheduled for several Bay Area appearances. I was vaguely familiar with Amma’s work, having seen a “60 Minutes” piece on her several years ago. In a nutshell, Amma hugs people: impoverished people, people in the aftermath of a natural disaster, people who need emotional support for any reason, dramatic or mundane.


Build new schools in Mtn. View: Other Voices

It is clear that we need some major real estate decisions regarding Los Altos School District schools so that they can support our community’s increasing enrollment.


Schools »

Read More

Sports »

Read More

People »

Read More

Special Sections »

Special Sections
Read More

Photos of Los Altos

Browse and buy photos