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Statute of limitations: Haugh About That?

“I can’t believe he’d do this to me,” I cried hysterically. “After all we meant to each other.” Curling into a ball, torrential teenage tears melted my mascara as my entire world came crashing to an obliterated end.

Annoyed at yet another gusher, Mary, my 16-year-old best friend, had had enough. “Get over it!” she barked. “You only dated him a week.” Little did I know, when it came to broken hearts, there was a statute of limitations for my sorrow.

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Home of the brave

When I was 13 years old, I was working on a Coke truck in Washington, D.C., over summer vacation. Our next-door neighbor, who drove the truck, would deal with the owners of liquor and convenience stores, while I would slog 10 cases of soda at a time into the stores on a hand truck.

One day we showed up and the store to which we were delivering was surrounded by police cars, in the midst of an armed robbery. The robber was trying to escape using the owner as a hostage when the owner tripped and fell. The robber accidentally let off a shot with his gun and the police filled him with bullets.

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Ending the debate: No Shoes, Please

In a general sense, everything is up for debate with me: What do I cook for dinner? Did I do the right thing? What color paint for the bedroom? Do I really want to go? Has the team improved? What difference does it make? Should I give him a call? Is it worth that much money? What is the truth?

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Familiar icon pops up in Los Altos: A Piece of My Mind

I was walking to my car parked on State Street when my eye fell on an old familiar acquaintance from my early childhood, totally unexpected to meet in Los Altos. It was the “Steinway” logo over the door of the new Steinway Piano Gallery, recently added to the Los Altos merchant roster.

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Sign of the times: The Villaj Idiut

This in an honest-to-goodness true story: I was walking across a bank parking lot recently, and cutting across the same parking lot was a couple pushing their belongings in a grocery cart.

And just as I was thinking to myself, “That’s got to be tough, living out of a grocery cart,” the woman turns to the man she is with, looks at the guy spinning a sign on the street corner, and says, “What a loser.”

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A genocide forgotten – and repeated: Editor's Notebook

“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” The prophetic 1905 quote from philosopher and author George Santayana has been revisited after every human tragedy that has occurred since.

The problem is, we have short memories. Slaughters of innocent people continue to occur.

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Life's purpose: Haugh About That?

Standing at the head of the classroom, her tiny facial features peeking out from the massive folds of her long veil, Sister Peter stared out at 50 second-graders. By the sharpened look in her beady, coffee-colored eyes, I knew we were about to be schooled on her favorite topic.

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