I don’t mean to brag, but for several years in a row my first Piedmont friend (Kathy Kelleher) and I have been gaining international prominence at an emerging endurance sport. We’ve triumphed over teams whose combined age is far less than half of ours and whose training capacity, due to their lack of day jobs, is probably three times as intense. What I’m saying, and again, I hesitate to appear boastful but I swear it’s completely true, is that Kathy and I dominate unsuspecting teams of frat boys.
The sport in question is called ‘Corn Toss’ and it’s one of the rare athletic pursuits that participants (of legal drinking age, of course) can enjoy while holding a beer. You’re in luck, because Kathy and I are prepared to demonstrate how it’s done this Sunday. Just come out to Piedmont Park around noon with your game face on to take part in the 7th annual Bay Area Corn Toss Challenge. We’re taking on all comers and promise to be kind and welcoming to neophytes.
With fake news running roughshod throughout the media, one thing that people of all political stripes agree about is that it has become more difficult – and more critical – to separate what’s true from what is merely rumor. It’s an issue on the national front and even more so on the micro-local level. Piedmont’s recent high school assemblies and the resulting news coverage offered an illuminating example of how slippery ‘facts’ can be.
For anyone who has missed the shocking and disheartening story, PHS and Millennium both held assemblies a few weeks ago to address multiple incidents of racist and anti-Semitic behavior amongst students. Parents from both schools received multiple notifications, and a recent School Board meeting was dominated by questions and concerns from parents and students. The primary emotion expressed seemed to be: what exactly happened?
My birthday is fast approaching and I’m a little horrified by how many people might be made aware of it via Facebook. Remember when the only people who remembered your birthday were your mom and your really good friends? Whether welcomed or dreaded, birthdays are one more reason I love Piedmont. Even in the pre-Facebook Era, this town always provided me with a perfect birthday buddy.
My OG birthday buddy was the incomparable Royanne Gwynn. Royanne (yep – she’s the namesake of one of Mulberry’s most popular sandwiches) lived for birthdays. I’m not sure how she kept track of them, but whatever her system, it was a good one. We moved in down the street from her when our girls were five and two, and she never once let any of their birthdays (or Charlie’s, once he arrived, or Chad’s or mine for that matter) pass by without a bouquet of balloons and a silly candy gift. It took me years of receiving her unrequited bounty to realize that one of the reasons she always remembered my birthday was that it was the same day as hers. Once I finally clued in, I was able to reciprocate, but of course Royanne wasn’t in it for the quid pro quo.
Warning: this is one of those weeks when I’m taking a break from my usually scheduled repertoire of liberal political commentary, vaguely self-righteous parenting treatises, and feel-good small town updates for a little public service potty talk. I completely understand if you choose to skip this one, and I promise to be back in regular form next time.
And yet. Not since the great Bathroom Incident of 2015 has a potty-oriented topic been so top of mind for me. For anyone who wasn’t yet in Piedmont or who floated (blissfully) above the fray, here’s what went down. In the summer of 2015 Mulberry’s made a major restroom-oriented transition. After eight and a half years of serving as Piedmont’s only public facility (save the sometimes-closed but much appreciated Piedmont Park outbuilding), we were forced to make the decision to restrict our bathroom to employees only.