Men asked to imagine selves as women, San Diego Okies remember, celebrities asked to recite poetry
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Photo by Sandy Huffaker, Jr.
Rodolfo Curiel shares something strangely in common with other prominent San Diegans he lived in San Diego, California. Curiel was a linebacker for Serra High School s team in the late 80s, and his picture hangs on the Wall of Fame in the Round Table Pizza in Tierrasanta.
Our tiny, Southern namesake and its vast, luminous sky.
Our namesake lies due west of Corpus Christi, past flat miles of sorghum, wheat and cotton fields, and towns with shops smelling of blood that, for pennies per pounds, will butcher the deer you shot and mount its head. Farther west the fields disappear, towns become fewer, the land becomes inexhaustible in breadth and texture. If it s got thorns on it, then we got it in South Texas, is what they say down here, a half-boast meaning that they re tough enough to ride harsh scrub, or at least their ancestors were.
Pete Scully, a battalion chief for the California Department of Forestry s fire protection agency, stands next to his camper-shelled pickup truck at a Highway 94 turnoff east of where Campo Creek turns south into Mexico, about halfway between Campo and Potrero. The hill looming on the south side of the road is completely blackened, the aftermath of a wildfire that roared through this area the day before, Monday, September 13. We could see the smoke, and we could see it was in Mexico. So I held off on the [large-scale] dispatch.
By Ernie Grimm, October 7, 2004 | Read full article
Sally Snipes: I was in a funk for six months because of the black. Everything was black.