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There is no meaningful definition of a human, interpersonal relationship that does not include accountability. If what I want is a meaningful, interdependent, mutually beneficial communion with you, then that must include a more or less perpetual willingness on my part to account when an acc…

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Jay Haley (1923–2007) is amongst my heroes in my chosen profession. I’ve read everything he’s ever written. I traveled to hear him speak. He was brilliant.

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God, I’m tweeting you because that thunderous voice hurts my eardrums. Rude. I understand you don’t tweet, maybe ’cause you have no hands. Have someone read this to you. No answer necessary, just nod agreement.

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Patients in therapy tell unhappy stories about relationships with their mothers and fathers. They grieve the past. They feel the burden of the past in the present. They are uncertain of the future.

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There are many “arenas of intimacy.” Intimacy with the nature, for example, is the conscious and intentional ways we realize our dependence on air, water, soil, and the animals, the way we celebrate and enjoy participating in creation, helping things live and grow. Religious folks talk about intimacy with God. There is the intimacy of family, friends, and mates.

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In the past, the Bay was an exceptionally rich environment for wildlife. San Francisco Bay is part of the Bay-Delta estuary, where fresh river water mixes with salty ocean tides. This creates multiple diverse ecosystems that sustain a variety of fish, birds, seals and other mammals, as well as other creatures large and small that live in water, amid wetlands, and along the shore.

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Making New Year’s resolutions is a lonely business. You can create lists, have discussions with friends and read celebrities’ vows on the Internet. But you make or break promises to yourself on your own. 

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Beer here, beer there, beer everywhere means February is going to be a big month in the Bay Area for craft beer lovers.

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We are made for relationship. We are social animals. Yet, we are ambivalent about intimacy: We seek it, we shun it, we long for it, we dodge it. We need it. A whole and authentic life is marked by the ability to forge lasting, intimate relationships.

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I grew up with my paternal grandparents maybe 20 minutes away by car. I spent hours and hours with them. Imagining. Pretending. Climbing the huge, ancient grapefruit tree. They sent me to Vacation Bible School at their church, and I made a “Trust in the Lord” plaque 

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This letter isn’t political. It’s not about federal policy. I don’t pretend to know what to do about budgets, the tax code, immigration, etc. I claim no expertise in such discussions.

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Using a cell phone while driving — however briefly — is a roadway hazard. Period. Any law that makes it easier for cops to crack down on the practice is entirely good by me.

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Last year had many beer highlights including beer fests and Marin breweries winning awards. Expect more beer events this year, as well as exciting brewery collaborations starting with an event in February.

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So, I’m bored on a Saturday morning. Should be exercising. Instead, I’m channel surfing, and I stumble on the movie “George A. Romero’s Diary of the Dead” (2007).

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Now in its 10th year, the Sausalito Gingerbread House Tour and Competition sponsored by the Chamber of Commerce is a visual delight and a terrific excuse to wander the streets of Sausalito, shopping and sipping along the way! A record-breaking 36 businesses are participating in the tour this year – restaurants and retail shops, professional business offices and local attractions like the Bay Model – and will all be competing for awards, hoping to secure the coveted “People’s Choice.” 

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You first feel the breeze of it a few days before Halloween. Like that subtle sense that the barometer is dropping. Like a tide is ever so slightly beginning to turn. Something changes in the air. Excitement dances with dread.

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The older I get the more that process looks like the old storybook image of a little boy kneeling at his bedside listing all things that came in his path that day:

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I’ve just been told it’s time “to bind the wounds of division.” The man who told me this just became our 45th president in large part due to his singular, unprecedented genius for provoking and exploiting division. So you’ll pardon me if I’m near paralyzed by the irony.

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Like millions of other concerned people, I’ve followed the standoff at Standing Rock Sioux Nation in North Dakota for months.

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Thanks to unforgiving deadlines, I am forced to write this column before I know whether our next president is Hillary Clinton or Donald Trump.

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Is there a doctor in the house? There is if you consult Dr. You — and the price is always right.

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Wee dawn. The airplane rages down the runway toward a Mojave Desert sunrise beckoning orange and purple and other colors of hope. To this day I retain a boyish fascination with aircraft, face plastered against the window, still astonished that metal can fly.

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Steven Kalas writes a weekly column for Marinscope Community Newspapers. He is an author, therapist and Episcopal priest. He will field questions from readers. You can reach him at skalas@marinscope.com.

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Well, certainly committed. Powerfully, even savagely committed. His family is not merely Mediterranean, but Old World Mediterranean. Each member of this family would, in turn, lay down in front of a train for the other. Take a bullet for the other. The bonds of “Old World Mediterranean” families are stunning, really. (See “My Big Fat Greek Wedding.”)

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I just returned from watching the current career biographical film on the Beatles, and it suddenly struck me. These four long-haired musicians, these four guys who entertained us and, through their music and social commentary, became our voice, were in every sense of the word us.

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I seem to be on a tear lately of jumping headlong into the deep end of pools of my ignorance. Activities and endeavors about which I know nothing. Such as learning to dance. Getting clobbered in chess by my 14-year-old son. Skeet shooting.

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You need a “body double” to fully take in this year’s Mill Valley Film Festival. The lineup is so big and so good, Marin-ers need a rake to sift through the offerings.

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I experienced my 15 minutes of fame early in life when I was elected a member of the elite Peanuts Gallery for the Howdy Doody Show. It was a limited-time engagement. They would elect a whole new crop of “peanuts” for the next show, but for a half hour, I was in the spotlight on national TV.

 

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