Pacific Grove Police Department hosted a collection point for the Drug Enforcement Agency’s sixth National Take Back Initiative.
Eighty-three pounds of prescription medications were collected at the Pacific Grove Police Department and will be disposed of appropriately and safely by the DEA.
The goal of this program is to allow citizens to deliver all of their unused, unwanted, or expired medications to law enforcement officials who can in turn dispose of controlled substances in a safe, secure, and non-hazardous manner. This will potentially save lives and protect the ecosystem.
Pacific Grove Police Department will partner with the DEA in future National Take Back Initiative events and will make the public aware of these opportunities, which occur approximately twice per year. Until the next event, the public is encouraged to contact their local pharmacy to determine the proper and safe way to dispose of their unused pharmaceuticals.
Now it’s on to Sacramento for Pacific Grove’s fourth year running
Arwa Aram took first prize at the county level of Poetry Out Loud with her dramatic recitations of Emily Dickinson’s It was not Death for I Stood Up and The Meaning of the Shovel by Martin Espada. Lyla Mahmoud, PGHS runner-up, recited Cartoon Physics by Nick Flynn.
Runner-up in the County competition was Chloe Reimann of Santa Catalina, who recited Spring and Fall by Gerard Manley Hopkins and The River Merchant’s Wife: A Letter by Ezra Pound. Santa Catalina’s runner-up was Mary Cho who recited Ecology by Jack Collom.
Former Pacific Grove Poet-In-Residence Garland Thompson acted as emcee for the event. He told how, in 2007, he was driving down the highway near Spreckels and heard a broadcast on NPR about Poetry Out Loud. He was so amazed and excited that he pulled his car over and made the phone contacts that eventually brought the opportunity to Monterey County schools.
Arwa will now go on to Sacramento to compete at the state level. Her three predecessors, Kylie Batlin (2009), Morgan Brown (2010) and Robert Marchand (2011) all went to the State level, and Brown and Marchand went on to the national level.
Officer Jeff Haas honored
At the Monterey County Peace Officer of the Year dinner Feb. 17, Pacific Grove Police Department honored Officer Jeff Haas as Officer of the Year.
Each police agency in Monterey County selects an officer to be honored.
A Pacific Grove native and graduate of Pacific Grove High School, Officer Haas also graduated from Monterey Peninsula College Police Academy in Aug., 2005. Read more…»
The Pt. Pinos Lighthouse restoration project recently got a $20,000 boost from the Monterey Peninsula Foundation in the form of a grant. The Monterey Peninsula Foundation hosts the AT&T Pro-Am, which opens next week and the proceeds of which go to charities. The Heritage Society itself, through fund-raising activities, sales in the Lighthouse gift shop and “door” donations, donated $4,000 recently.
A comprehensive report by Planning staff to outline upgrades in current paid parking plans for the downtown and Lovers Point areas became a battle cry once again. The report, which was requested by City Council, outlined the areas in question and gave comparisons of plans in other areas and other cities. But Mayor Garcia said it was more than was requested – that she had sought a two-page report. The entire agenda item was 31 pages long, 14 pages of which was a potential Request For Proposals for an outside vendor to examine the program and oversee installation of parking sensors, among other duties.
There was no mention in the report of parking meters along Lighthouse Avenue or Ocean View Blvd., and no increase in the number of time-restricted spaces, but rather the report was directed, as requested, at the potential of installing pay stations at current timed lots between Fandango restaurant and the Bank of America and the lot behind Lighthouse Cinemas on Fountain Avenue. Nonetheless, there were a number of members of the public who were unhappy about the prospect of pay-to-park spaces downtown.
By Marge Ann Jameson
Monterey County District Attorney Dean Flippo announced Nov. 15 that Stephen Phillip Collins, former director on the Board of Directors of the Monterey County Water Resources Agency, is charged with two felony counts of conflict of interest because he allegedly profited financially from his involvement in making contracts pertaining to the Regional Water Project. The acts of conflict of interest allegedly took place between Jan. 8, 2010 and Dec. 30, 2010.
Collins will be arraigned on Nov. 16. Read more…»
During the school year, and while their other classes and test schedules allow, the Young Writers’ Club meets at Pacific Grove High School. We are proud to present selections they offer. At the end of the year, the club publishes a literary magazine.
by Lauren Dykman
“A book about bugs,” Caesar replied from his cot.
The honey-colored light of an oil lamp illuminated his well sculpted face and the pages of the book, Encyclopedia of Entomology, propped on his chest.
“Yeah, I see that, but what is it about bugs that engrossed you for hours?” Angelo pestered. “They have sex a lot. No, just kidding. Check this out, Cordyceps fungus that possesses insects’ brains, then grows out of their bodies, killing them. Each species has a specialized fungus.” “Great.” Angelo didn’t really pay attention to the illustration Caesar stretched forward. He had only initiated a conversation because he felt increasingly antsy sit- ting in his cot. He wanted a smoke, but wondered if the result was worth the effort of getting up and walking into the humid midnight forest. “I want a cigarette,” he offered, trying his luck.
“Take a hike then,” retorted Caesar, “I don’t want to be coughing up your smoke all night.”
Angelo groaned and slipped through the canvas door into a buzzing cloud of mosquitoes. The forest was pitch black around the glowing tent, but still crawled and sang with activity. As he flicked on his torch their native guide, Tarrin, emerged phantom-like from the night.
Tarrin was a local villager who Caesar paid to guide him and Angelo to an unexplored cave in the foothills. Upon sighting Angelo, Tarrin began to speak emphatically in his tribal dialect while gesticulating precisely with his hands. Caesar, who had spent years on this anthropological mission, could speak fluently with Tarrin, whereas Angelo the newcomer merely feigned comprehension and nodded. “Yes…okay…Look, I’m going out,” he pointed to the dark forest, “for a smoke. Cigarettes. Smoke. See?” he pulled his pack of Marlboros from his pocket and showed Tarrin.
“I’ll be right back.” Tarrin responded in his own language equally slowly, as if equally doubtful of his companion’s competence. Angelo nodded, but his face registered no comprehension. Tarrin shrugged and tapped the pack of cigarettes.
“Oh, sure take one. Not like they’re hard to come by out here.” Angelo handed Tarrin a cigarette and lit the tip. Tarrin nodded in thanks.
From inside the tent, Caesar’s voice interjected, “Tarrin said to be careful of poisonous snakes. He saw a Pit Viper just now.” “Thanks for the translation Caesar!”
“And thank you for giving Tarrin a cigarette,” Caesar’s voice spat, “now I’ll have to tell him to take a hike too!”
Angelo chuckled and took off into the forest. In a matter of minutes, night enveloped him. He continued to navigate the labyrinth of ghostly foliage, his torchlight seeming to cut through air thick with moisture and noise. Angelo walked much farther from camp than necessary. He loved finding solitude in the nighttime jungle, a land of mangled trees, choking vegetation, layered darkness rustling with watchful creatures. He felt the struggle of life and death heavy in the air.
In a small open space, Angelo lit his cigarette and flicked off his torch. The cigarette’s amber tip and the spectral flicker of fireflies now provided the only light in the jungle. Angelo heard distant chortling dampened by the rotting earth, felt beads of sweat tickling down his neck, and sensed a strange energy lingering in the air. For some reason new and unknown to him, he shuddered in fear. Angelo chuck- led in surprise. He had never feared any wild environment in his life…but wasn’t the forest feeling suddenly cold? No, the air was still moist and hot like inside a giant mouth. Then why did he feel chilly? He listened. The jungle still sang with life. He continued dragging on his cigarette, and crossed his arms against his foolish discom- fort. Suddenly, he sensed a presence behind him, and a very discernible breath on the back of his neck. Angelo levitated and fumbled for his torch in the darkness, but dropped it in his panic. Angelo found himself suddenly unable to move. Crouching in the abyss, he meekly felt along the ground and groaned when he failed to locate his light anywhere around him. His heart racing, he stretched farther, feeling over leaves and twigs on the wet forest floor. The whole time the presence persisted in sending chills down his spine. Then Angelo’s fingers closed around the torch and with a click, light blazed through layers of foliage. Shadows danced madly as Angelo spun around and the torch reflected off two white eyes. When he passed the light back over them Angelo saw the dark face of a native, more animal than man, painted with blood and suffering, and snarling at him with yellowed teeth and wide eyes. Angelo jumped and lost sight of the face and could not find it again. He played the light over every branch, around every shadow, but the wild man had ceased to exist. Hoping to God he had imagined it, Angelo ran back to camp, forgetting to look out for poisonous snakes. He forced his pace to a walk once he saw the glow of the tent, and slunk inside with laboriously steady breathing.
“Hope you had a good smoke,” commented Caesar from around his bug book. Angelo responded with a nervous laugh. The next morning Angelo recounted his experience to Caesar. Caesar’s only reply was,
“Good thing Tarrin can’t understand you. We had a hard time finding anyone to take us to the cave.”
“The villagers have superstitions. None of them go anywhere near here. Tarrin is the bravest man in his tribe and we still had to pay him exorbitantly. I’m sure one word about your “supernatural encounter” will cost us our guide.”
by Emily Shifflett
Walking to the crossroads
Little box in hand
Shovel swung up over the shoulder
t night, walks a lonely man
When he comes to his destination
The shovel meets the dirt
Digging, digging, deeper down
The box gets put into dark, moist earth
Inside, there is a picture
That’s faded on the edge
Along with a couple leaves and twigs
Clipped, by moonlight, from their hedge
Then the lines are drawn in dust
A beacon for him who rides
Flickering candles at pivotal points
In the middle, man stands in moonrise
Lips move, quickly and quietly
Murmuring the words to call
Waiting for a response:
The sounds as footsteps fall
Then, suddenly, there he stands
Shrouded in the night
Blonder than almost possible
Smirk full of pomp and spite
“Now, how can I be of service?”
He says with a lilt to his voice
The man finally remembers to take breath,
In the final moments of his choice
“I need your help,” he finally says
“You CAN do that, can’t you?”
The smirk remains, and a mirthless laugh
“You have no idea what I can do.”
So, the man makes his request
Signs with a drop of red
Sulfur eyes spark for a moment
As he does business with the King of the Dead
by Eugenia Wang
There was a corpse on the floor of my living room. I wasn’t quite sure what to do with it, and at that time in my life I lacked that certain necessary vitality motivating me to care about the body rotting, and so I left it there to spoil in the damp carpet beneath my living-room couch. It smelled like my various leftover food items spilled and similarly abandoned- that is, it didn’t quite smell like a corpse, but that was fine.
Actually, I think back then the corpse was in front of my couch. I kicked it under later, and then it came back out during the summer and I had to kick it back under again.
Anyway, I didn’t quite know what to do with myself back then, it being a period of transition for me — I had recently abandoned the less productive of my hobbies, instead spending my time alternating between a deep engrossment in my studies and sitting quietly on my couch contemplating my studies, which I was doing then. When I was done contemplating my studies, I sat contemplating my future, and when I was done with that I sat.
My friends called in the middle of it, asking me to visit with them at the local forest at five. I told them I was busy, but maybe we could visit tomorrow? They agreed with some hesitance, and then I returned to my sitting.
I realized at that time that I was sitting also facing a corpse, and although that was only marginally more interesting than just sitting, it was definitely more interesting that sitting contemplating my studies, I sat facing the corpse, and then sat contemplating a corpse. It looked at me.
I went to bed and then woke up and returned to my studies and then called with my friends to confirm our visit, and then began preparing for our visit. Our visits were the only thing breaking up those numbing periods of time in between my studies and my thinking about my studies. I avoided the visits frequently because they removed me from the comfort of my living room, but looked forward to them always- back then, I sometimes forgot that life lived on outside without me, and it was nice to be reminded that the door to my living room was operational, if rarely used.
But as I stood in front of the door, contemplating turning the knob, pushing and working the hinges of the door and opening the door, as you do, I considered the corpse behind me that looked just as rotten as it had that previous night. I thought then that perhaps I should do something about it? But that was the last time I thought about it.
(I wonder if I had done it then if I would be here, now, where I am, if what hadn’t happened still wouldn’t have happened, if it would be better or worse or the same as it is now.)
The forest was beautiful in a way that I used to want to grab and hold close to my face and feel against my cheek. But the whole thing felt far away – I could touch the trees and the grass but it wasn’t enough back then. I used to walk and contemplate the forest and how the forest grew, and with my friends would contemplate it together.
I returned home a new person, my experience having refreshed me, until I saw the couch first, and then the corpse, and then the Whole Thing and everything felt very inevitable. I sat down where I had sat every day for countless years, with my studies open about me. For a moment, I sat contemplating my studies and then I returned to my studies.
I vowed never to go outside again, and didn’t go outside for an entire month before my friends forced me out into the world. We went to the forest again and it was only upon my returning that I realized that the corpse was actually, honestly rotting. A thin dusting of flies had gathered in my living room, buzzing around the corpse and planting maggots under its skin. I bent over to check its face, which remained unrecognizable.
I returned to my studies and then sat contemplating my studies and then sat contemplating my future and then sat and then went to bed.
I think it was the following morning while I was eating my breakfast snack and watching the corpse that I became acquainted with the corpse. I watched its empty eye sockets and the flies crawling around inside of it and laying their babies in its gut and I decided I wouldn’t go outside again. I wouldn’t even pick up the phone. The visits had become just another unproductive hobby. I had to grow as a person and once I had developed enough I would be able to go outside and watch the trees grow without feeling guilty for my own lack of progress, and the only way I’d be able to grow was through my studies. At the time I was under the impression that the corpse agreed with me, because the flies had arranged themselves into a smile over its teeth.
We studied the whole year that year. We didn’t even sit contemplating my studies. We just studied and learned and grew and when I saw the corpse in my kitchen looking more rotten than ever I didn’t even give it a second thought. It felt good that year, until summer came and my living room felt dark and hot and wet and the corpse stunk and something was growing in its belly. The maggots bloomed and the air was thick with flies. I resolved to go outside, get some fresh air, and call my friends. For the first time- ever, I think – the corpse bothered me. But I didn’t care enough to remove it, so I kicked it under the couch. I don’t know what I was thinking. I tried for the door but the door wouldn’t open. I started to panic but I just choked on flies and so I stopped panicking. After a bit I returned to the couch and returned to my studies. The corpse rolled back out from under the couch and out of spite I kicked it back under again and then drew up my legs so it couldn’t grab my ankles and pull me under as well.
I didn’t quite give up, though. I called my friends, conspiring with them, but our schedules never coincided. My friends and I planned a visit for two days from then, but they all canceled later. It was going to be at the town park. My friends didn’t go but we went anyways and the world looked so small, then.
The time came when my friends tired of my absence and broke down my door using force. They didn’t call beforehand, as they usually did when they visited, so it was very surprising to me when the door broke at its hinges and fell to the floor before me. The flies of my room poured out of my living room and into the faces of my friends, escaping into the world in a black, buzzing smog.
It was only after they broke down the door that I realized that the corpse smelled terribly and had rotted terribly- by that time, the flesh had been picked off until it was just meaty bits clinging to the bones with flies wriggling beneath the meat, and there was something wild breathing in its chest.
In the past, I had been careful not to tell my friends about the corpse, as I doubted they would understand. Seeing their faces slack and dumb with an odd sort of something like horror, I realized that they really didn’t.
“Is this your corpse?” the authorities asked.
“Yes.” I said.
The authorities were unable to identify the corpse, and no one was missing so there were no data for them to collect to convict me of murder, but they collected data anyway just in case. They gathered my studies into their hands and asked me what I was studying. I didn’t know. They took my couch and my old food and then they gave them all back when they were done, emptying their arms of my things as fast as possible. I think I had hoped they would take them from me forever. But I think my things were too small for them — they looked impossibly big in my house, and when they stood next to me I had to crane my neck to see their faces.
My friends had grown, too.
When they were done, the authorities looked at me knowingly but they didn’t convict me. My friends were relieved I didn’t kill the thing. But I think . . . I think I actually did kill it, although with nothing so clumsy as a knife slid between the ribs or poison in its food.
They buried my corpse in an unmarked grave and it crawled back home to me.
By Erika McLitus
endless looping arguments,
paradoxical logic traps leading to
p a n i c k e d
you don’t know
doesn’t just disappear
even if THAT did.
choose to be optimistic
because you want to be.
don’t smother the hope
that’s fluttering inside,
trying to twist a maybe into a certainty.
by Emily Shifflett
*Inspired by “I Love You This Big” by Scotty McCreery
Who cares if I seem silly?
Who cares how odd I seem?
How can I otherwise show you,
What you mean to me?
One single arm span
Pales in sad compare
To show how much you are
This second standing there
You can roll your eyes at me right now
But listen to my words
No one can comprehend the truth
Even if you think this gesture for the birds
Race me to the sun
And still you’ll never know
You could travel to the very end of time
And the distance still won’t show
This is how I love you
This is for how long
This is for forever
And this is where you belong
by Keeley Ostos
Love is a vengeful thirst awakened.
It is a sickness of the soul.
It stirs a fever and hollows out the frame of being.
It gouges deep into its victims’ bones and breaks the spirit.
It is a monster, a master.
An enslaver of freedom.
It serves no other but itself, and makes fools of those who answer to its siren call.
We despise its chaos.
Yet we revel in it once it claims our souls.
It is a curse to those who do not have it.
And a blessing to those who are infected.
It is a fickle friend.
Yet how would we live without such a disease?
Note: We have noticed a lot of readers coming to our website as a result of certain search engine queries. These searches indicate to us that you, our readers, are looking for information and opinion about the water board candidates running in tomorrow’s election. Many, we know, have already voted. But for the others, we have taken all of the letters from our print version and lumped them here in this post to make it easy for you and, we hope, easier for you to make up your minds. The latest are the ones at the top and from there they go back in time. Editorials are at the end.
Letter writers are wrong about Byrne and ‘scare tactics’
Vicki Pearse, in her letter (October 21 issue) accused Jeanne Byrne of using “scare tactics” in her campaign. Time to set the record straight with facts.
The Cease and Desist Order states as of December 31, 2016 Cal Am pumping from the Carmel River is limited to its legal right of 3,376 acre feet. Fact.
The adjudication order for the Seaside Basin states Cal Am pumping from that basin is limited to 2,299 acre feet for 2017 and 1,820 acre feet in 2018. Fact.
Residential water use will be limited to 35 gallons per day per person (current use, 60 gallons per day per person). Fact.
This means the hospitality industry, for example, could be out of business without replacement water. 20,000+ jobs lost. $40 million of local tax revenues generated gone and TOT revenue drastically diluted, directly impacting city services. All fact. Read more…»
by Eugenia Wang
Can I confess to shooting blanks
And say I didn’t even try
And should you ask and to this day
I never could have told you why
That night I stood beneath the midnight quilt
And contemplated sky
Beneath the stars and minor moon
I watched the bullets fly
If I should have seen their deaths
I would have seen them die
But as it was with bated breath
I saw the seconds by.
by Emily Long
You were a pen in the hand of an unworthy writer,
Spilling your nonrenewable blood for an untold story, dying as a martyr for a cause you didn’t believe in.
You were a bird chirping on a painted windowsill,
Melodious arias set afloat by the rustling breeze, and yet the window remained closed to you.
You were the arms of a sun,
Reaching for a girl terrified of the hazards of warmth, so she shed your embrace like a dead skin and returned to the familiar pain of cold.
You were the polished ivory keys of a baby grand piano,
Beckoning and begging to be caressed again, your unrequited love amplified by the silent corridors.
You were the playful waves,
Lapping at the toes of passersby, rejected by those who forgot how to feel, let alone feel joy.
You were the snow in the eyelashes, the dusty stuffed bunny, the red balloon amongst the cotton-candy clouds, the voice resonating through the body’s every atom,
And I just didn’t listen.
By Marge Ann Jameson
Two state officials have issued proposed decisions, viewed as very important steps on the road to completion of the Regional Water Project. The decision could modify the proposed Settlement Agreement among the parties and hopefully result in approval of the Regional Water Project. Both officials recommend approval of the desalination project agreement as the most feasible way to provide water for customers of California American Water, the utility most of the Monterey Peninsula; but there are some differences in how they suggest that project go forward.
After a series of public meetings and input by Cal Am, Marina Coast Water District and the Monterey County Water Resources Agency — the three “partners” to the project — PUC Commissioner John Bohn and Administrative Law Judge Angela Minkin issued the rulings last week. Judge Minkin is the presiding officer in the proceeding while Bohn is a commissioner on the Public Utilities Commission.
Lowering cost caps and limiting cost recovery from customers in the event of cost overruns are two of the proposed changes. In fact, Minkin suggests that Cal Am be prohibited from charging customers for cost overruns for the Cal Am-only facilities. She suggests a capital cost cap of $95 million (which was the most probably estimated cost of construction) with an absolute cost cap of $106.875 million. Costs over that absolute cost cap could not be charged back to ratepayers according to Minkin’s proposal.
Bohn leaves that door open a bit by suggesting the company be allowed to charge customers for cost overruns if “exceptional circumstances” can be proven in a “rigorous reasonableness review.” Read more…»
There’s a little item on the Pacific Grove City Council Agenda for Oct. 7, 2010 that most people will merely glance at. It’s a mere resolution, placed on the consent agenda because it’s not controversial and, having been through committees and the proper bidding process, probably needs no more scrutiny.
It’s the story of how it got to the City Council that is interesting. And it points to the fact that the Campaign of Crankiness, as council member Lisa Bennett termed it, is not over. Not by a long shot.
The item is about awarding a contract to paint the Pacific Grove Museum of Natural History. The City has agreed it’s responsible for the building while the Foundation takes care of the day-to-day running of this venerable institution. We, the citizens of Pacific Grove, own the building and the collection, the Foundation meets the payroll and puts on the exhibits.
Simple, right? The Museum, looking a little seedy, needs a paint job. Put it out to bid and then vote on it and paint the darned Museum. Staff estimates the cost at $25,000 and we have a contractor who meets our requirements who bid the job at $13,750. Add a little for the contingencies, and voila! The Museum gets a badly needed paint job, under budget. Simple.
Now let’s choose a color. Read more…»
Christopher Veloz, the 19 year-old accused of hosting a party where minors were served alcohol (against a Pacific Grove city ordinance), has pleaded no contest to the misdemeanor charge and, in an agreement among the defense attorney, the City’s attorney and the judge was sentenced to six months in county jail, suspended for one year provided Veloz submits proof he has finished 40 hours of community service by Jan. 7. The case will likely be reviewed in September and Veloz may seek to have the suspended sentence lifted and the misdemeanor conviction converted to an infraction.
This is not even a slap on the wrist. It’s more akin to a disapproving glance. Read more…»
If you’ve been reading Cedar Street Times, you know that our butterfly sanctuary got a bit of a haircut last season and that, coupled with a bad year for butterfly numbers made for an abysmal tourist season in the Monarch Sanctuary. So a friend of mine, Bob Pacelli, a professional videographer (Bosnia, Nicaragua, Afghanistan, Cambodia for the UN – no amateur, he) who has made a documentary about the Monarchs decided that he would mount a campaign to get some potted trees to put in between the naked ones to break the wind so to speak so the flutterbies would have something to cling to when they come back (God willin’) next week.
Enter 87 year-old Helen, who lives at the local old folks’ residence and is a professional Butterfly Benefactor. She is also my buddy. [She's the one who brought me some plastic lilies that have a solar-powered light so they charge in the daytime and emit a bilious glow at night as a hostess gift one time. I exclaimed as how they would look lovely in my back yard (far away from the eyes of my unfortunate neighbors) but she said no, they had to go in the front. I told her I thought they could be stolen, lovely as they are, but she said if they got stolen to just tell her and she'd buy me some more. Privately I thought I would put them in the bushes and then when she went away I'd pull them out again, but just then she said, “And I'll drive by often to make sure they're still working!” So now we have these plastic light-up lilies in our front yard. But I digress.] Read more…»
The Pacific Grove City Council entertained six applicants at a special meeting Tues., June 1, all vying for the seat on the council vacated by Deborah Lindsay. The top three candidates were Dan Miller, Rudy Fischer and William Fredrickson. Miller, who had missed a seat on the council in the last election and was not chosen when two other seats became vacant, was the choice this time around.
Miller did not list a vocation on his application. He is 54 and a native of Pacific Grove. Among the issues he wishes to see the Council address during his tenure — five months — he listed completion of the Bath House, restoration of the lighthouse, funding of the library, stabilization of the city’s finances, paying down unfunded liabilities, and a “fair” tree ordinance.
Miller will serve until the general election in November, when six of the seven seats are up for election. The only councilmember not facing election will be Bill Kampe, whose term expires in 2012.
By Darci D’Anna and Cameron Douglas
The April 20 explosion on the Deepwater Horizon oilrig, and the rig’s subsequent sinking two days later, created an undersea oil gusher that some are calling the worst environmental disaster of our time. Viewing aerial photos of the spreading oil plume can impart a feeling of helplessness, but not for the people at an organization called Matter of Trust. And not for a growing group of Pacific Grove businesses.
Many of our local haircutters and some pet groomers are finding a way to help with the Gulf oil spill. Under the guidance of distribution facilitator Matter of Trust, an ecological charity, these local businesses are helping other communities by sending hair clippings to warehouses along the Gulf Coast to be made into oil capturing “hair booms.” Vigorous response from salon owners shows a very caring attitude and willingness to make an active contribution towards stewarding the environment. Read more…»
Last night, May 7, I attended a slide presentation by Jim Heitzman of Marina Coast Water District. We, as a newspaper, sponsored the talk and question-and-answer session afterward with Heitzman and Craig Anthony, CEO of California-American Water.
While I’ve seen the bulk of the presentation before, there is always something new to glean in reviewing a subject. And what I gleaned from this presentation came as a bit of a shock.
This is a replacement water project. It does not increase the supply to Pacific Grove nor provide any additional water Read more…»
Council member Deborah Lindsay announces her resignation today from Pacific Grove City Council effective May 6th, 2010 due to family issues. “It is with deep regret that I must make this announcement. It has been my greatest honor to work with the Citizens, Council and Staff of Pacific Grove.” While on council Lindsay served on the Transportation Agency of Monterey County, the Pacific Grove Natural History Museum Board, and Chaired the Ad Hoc Water Alternative Subcommittee and was a strong proponent of sustainability and natural resource conservation on the Monterey Peninsula.
Yet another second-hand store has approached the Powers That Be about the possibility of opening a store in Pacific Grove. And they have been sent on their way yet again. Sally Ann apparently isn’t welcome in PG. Or is she? When does Used Stuff become an antique. . .or even Lovely Junque? Who buys that stuff anyway? Read more…»
Another year of Pacific Grove’s Good Old Days celebration has come and gone, and though this year it was Good Old Day, it pointed out all that is quintessentially Pacific Grove.
My mother, wrapped in a borrowed jacket, perched in a lawn chair in front of the police station and waving her American flag donated by Sahin Gunsel at Union Bank, commented that the parade was better this year than ever – and not just because I was in it with our restored muscle car. Horses and clowns, Snick in his lobster suit, crowds of children, floats, flags and bagpipes, politicos and military. . .it was all that a small town parade ought to be, and the Rotary are to be commended for the clockwork efficiency and near-perfect mix. Read more…»
By Cameron Douglas
To stop or not to stop? That is the question many drivers seem to ask themselves at the intersection of Gibson and Fountain. Currently, those traveling on Fountain are required to stop: those traveling on Gibson are not. But they want to – most of the time. This and other safety concerns crossed the agenda of the Traffic Safety Commission on July 14. Read more…»
Tuesday morning, June 9, downtown Pacific Grove merchants and citizens woke up to the cheerful sight of American flags flapping gaily from lamp posts on Forest Avenue and up and down Lighthouse Avenue. The flags were installed thanks to the cooperation of the Business Improvement district, the Chamber of Commerce and individual businesses and will remain flying until Labor Day. Nearly 40 lamp posts were decorated in preparation for Flag Day (June 14) and the Fourth of July, while a few more remain to be repaired. The eventual total will be 44 lamp posts, each with three flags. Read more…»
They come to Pacific Grove Community High School for many reasons, but they’re all going places when they graduate. On their last day of high school, they were finishing up their yearbook and looking forward to the summer vacation. Younger students were working on the computers, painting banners, reading. The students are self-motivated and have diverse skills and aspirations, and the best part is that they all seem to be friends.
Pacific Grove Museum Foundation member Judd Perry told the City Council that he and other volunteers have spent what amounts to thousands of hours working on details of an agreement between the newly-formed foundation and the City of Pacific Grove to form a public/private partnership operating agreement and lease for the Pacific Grove Museum of Natural History.
The Museum Association has spent countless hours on the agreement, and will hold another meeting next Wednesday, June 11. Read more…»« Previous Entries archive