When I was 7, we had the strangest holiday. It was called Christmas. It was January 1958. I so clearly remember returning from Christmas vacation, hunched over a wooden desk.
Tipping my terribly expensive but utilitarian O’Farrell hat toward the direction of you ladies and offering a positive “Howdy” to the menfolk. What say we all climb aboard the thousands of ponies I’ve brought?
No. 33 in a series of 52 commemorating the 100-year anniversary of The Signal How many words has this paper printed in a century? Rough guess — it’s in the
Some may point a bony, quivering finger and warn that dire things approach. Fistfights nationwide erupt over open borders, the proper amount of melanin in our epidermal levels, gun control,
Well a happy Sunday in August to you, dear saddlepals. Hope you survived Saturday night and still possess your car keys, spouse, loved one and most of your brain cells from the carousing.
No. 32 in a series of 52 commemorating the 100-year anniversary of The Signal Growing up here, and I still am, the Santa Clarita has provided me with a lovely
Dear Katie Hill, Read, with interest, a quote from you. It appeared in a recent web issue of Time Magazine and was about the move to impeach President Donald Trump.
I used to, and still do, kid my friend and Signal Editor Tim Whyte. Many of us who have written editorials sometimes hit both a wall of inspiration and a
I can picture my father at 9, an athletic, simple farm boy, sweet, shy, misplaced. He was always embarrassed to smile, though he did so perfectly. In a blink, he’s
No. 30 in a series of 52 commemorating 100-year anniversary of The Signal Just about everyone in the Santa Clarita Valley has driven past what used to be the Bonelli
It’s not entirely too bad for a late July in Santa Clarita. C’mon. Hop up on one of the noble steeds that I’ve talked into giving you a ride. Bring a slicker because we’ve got some monumental summer rainstorms to inspect.
Many are those who have more problems than me. Still. I love to visit my health club’s Olympic-sized pool and wash away my sins, my pressures, shortcomings and regrets. Sometimes,
C’mon, all y’all. A complete vista of gee-whiz experiences await us, dear saddlepals. Shall we mosey in the mystic of the Santa Clarita of yesteryear?
No. 29 in a series of 52 commemorating the 100-year anniversary of The Signal Yes. Mountain lions. Pumas. Catamounts. Cougars. American panthers. As Theodore Roosevelt called them, “…the lord of
I speak Clown fluently. Starting at an early age, I was not a class clown, but rather, THE class clown, marching forlornly from kindergarten to the principal’s office. I served time
A warm and Western howdy to you, Time Ranger saddlepals. C’mon. Grab your tin cups of coffee, being careful not to spill. And no lattes or fruit smoothies while we
No. 28 in a series of 52 commemorating the 100-year anniversary of The Signal Perhaps the most asked question last week in Santa Clarita was: “Did you feel the earthquakes?”
So there’s this strange, kabuki theater that plays itself out every time I go to the local drive-yourself-thru carwash. It’s been going on for eons. I roll my car onto
Well what do you know? It’s time to time travel. We’ve a most interesting trek into the lost canyons of SCV yesteryear. Us with all our cellphones, we’ll pay a
No. 27 in a series of 52 commemorating the 100-year anniversary of The Signal Here’s something you wouldn’t necessarily group together: Kindness and Journalism. In our 100 years of being