
John Boston | From Banjos to Lullabies, I Hear America Singing
Especially during these harsh political climes, I shouldn’t mention this in public, aloud. But, one of my best friends is a banjo player. Rodger’s a decent chap and doesn’t deserve

Especially during these harsh political climes, I shouldn’t mention this in public, aloud. But, one of my best friends is a banjo player. Rodger’s a decent chap and doesn’t deserve

Heavens to Betsy, Bernice and Aunt Bea. This year of 2021 is evaporating quickly. Seems like the cold dry January was 10 minutes ago. Of course, what with us all

On my Top Whatever Number Favorite Books List is Mark Twain’s “A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court.” Someone dear and close gave me a collector’s edition years ago. I

Whelp. This is the big weekend. If you live in Palmdale, make sure to set all your clocks back four hours Sunday morning. If you live in Santa Clarita, wait until

Recently, in some grand periodical the name of which escapes me, a left-wing paragraphist demanded that vaccinations for the Chinese Flu be — mandatory. Not womandatory, mind you. But MANdatory.

Brings a smile to my face, seeing so many familiar faces, friends, neighbors, people I’ve grown up with. It’s also a treat to see the freshly scrubbed and eager countenances

For you hepcat daddy-o’s and daddy-o-ettes, “Sticky Fingers” was the 11th Rolling Stones album, cut back in 1971. In rare cases, it’s also a condition where your fingers are —

Isn’t this grand? Finally? Weather befitting a powerful and revered civilization like our very own Valley de la SClarita? We’ve a most excellent trail ride this morning, amigos, amigo-ettes and SCV 4-P (Picky

Confession? Here goes. Sometimes, I watch “Scared Straight” reruns. Originally, SS was a 1978 Oscar-winning documentary, narrated by Peter Falk. Since then, it’s metastasized into various cheesy and terribly satisfying

Well, you’re never going to hear me confide that this promises to be one eye-wateringly boring trailride into the yesteryear of SCV history. Tain’t. Gonna. Happen. We’ve got a pretty amazing trek into the back canyons of

Years ago, a good pal married poorly. Like, AYFKM poorly. A highly successful Beverly Hills attorney and agent, he was a bucket of mischief, loyal, funny, well-off and smarter than

I’m all smiles for it is October. While summer’s heat may linger here and there, I can feel bona fide Autumn and her come hither smile. We’ve a most interesting

It’s certainly nothing new, this concept of rape, loot, lies and pillage. I’d rather not go back to it. Year in, year out, my request for a Christmas or birthday

As we’ve been sometimes accused of providing imaginary horses for an imaginary trail ride, please let me share an imaginary letter to The Time Ranger from one long-time Newhall resident, Chris P. Bacon. Dear

In the checkered career of alleged Lifeguard Joe Biden, he’s earned kudos for major accomplishments. Hair-sniffer. Pervert. Crook. Bully. Liar. Groper. Plagiarist. Surrender monkey. Dumber than underwear left in a

When the phrase “Memorable Meals” is bandied about, it conjures visions of epicurean delights, chow so scrumptious it makes one moan. Sometimes, you don’t even remember the food because of

Decades later, I’m still embroiled in the argument. It was the summer of 1968. My best pal Phil Lanier, future country/western singer Joey Canyon and I went to the beach.

We add a new and dear friend this week, riding up front. Pat Arman magically became history. We’ve been friends for more than half a century and I shall continue to enjoy hearing his wonderful stories,

Every week since forever, I write a second column. The Time Ranger tracks our Santa Clarita Valley’s illustrious history. Best as humanly possible, I attempt to quote scripture and verse

Slowly but surely, we are sneaking out of this dry summer toward fall. While thermometer scientists are predicting a third-straight La Niña and its stinginess in the Heavenly Water Department, at least with upcoming fall, it won’t be