June 1, 1986 |
Schoolchildren recognize the bird of paradise as our city flower, though most of the adult population of Los Angeles would probably be surprised by this fact. Had I been asked, I might have guessed that our city flower was a native plant, the California poppy perhaps. But our city fathers chose a most exotic plant instead, one likely to maintain our image as a palm-filled paradise.
September 18, 1997 |
On Sunday, in the late afternoon, Cardinal Roger M. Mahony will lead a procession through downtown Los Angeles to a hillside overlooking the Hollywood Freeway. There, he will bless the ground. Ten thousand people are expected to meet him at the end of his pilgrimage from the old cathedral, St. Vibiana's, to the new Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels. In reality, he will start at one parking lot and end up at another. There is no cathedral. The 3.
September 27, 2009 |
A Paradise Built in Hell The Extraordinary Communities That Arise in Disaster Rebecca Solnit Viking: 354 pp., $27.95 The bad news is that more disasters are coming, arising from any number of sources: climate change, widespread infrastructural vulnerabilities, toxic threats brewed at cellular or weapons-grade levels, seismic or oceanic volatility, and so on and so on. Whatever their cause, disasters will be born of some mixture of...
CALIFORNIA | LOCAL
March 10, 1990 |
New studies in the jungles of New Guinea have revealed a link between economics and mating behavior that foretells a major change in human parenting. Dr. Bruce M. Beehler, the Smithsonian zoologist who reported his findings in the December issue of Scientific American, doesn't actually say that they will apply to human beings, but male-female relationships in the urban jungle are not much different from what he observed.
June 3, 2007 |
Bora-Bora, French Polynesia A dream landscape emerged as our dinghy sped through turquoise waters toward the uninhabited South Seas islet of Tapu. Here, on a triangular speck of sand and coconut palms at the bottom of the world, red hibiscus, white gardenia and yellow plumeria blossoms were strewn on the water at land's edge. As we stepped from the boat, a sommelier offered flutes bubbling with Dom Perignon. Behind him, china and crystal sparkled on a dining table positioned in shallow water at the edge of the lagoon.
September 7, 2009 |
The next time some knucklehead out-of-towner asks me what it's like to live in La-La Land, I'm going to blurt out just one big, scary compound word that he's not likely to understand: pyrocumulus. That's the term we all learned last week after we gawked at the huge mushroom cloud looming over the San Gabriels, the product of the intense heat and smoke from the Station fire. I know I'm not the only one who took pictures of the awesome cloud formations, and I'd guess I wasn't the only one to feel a pang of guilt when I thought how beautiful they were.
CALIFORNIA | LOCAL
August 3, 1993 |
Mirela Kerla, 15 years old and a witness to war, wears a gauze patch over her right eye and three strands of knotted red thread around her left wrist. They are reminders of the place she has come to and the place she has left behind. The makeshift red bracelet was given to Mirela last week--a good luck charm fashioned by a neighbor in Bosnia-Herzegovina, Mirela's homeland.
HOME & GARDEN
March 31, 2005
Re "A Glorious Flock" [March 24]: Your article on the bird of paradise credited my Uncle Manfred (Manfred Meyberg) with getting it named the city flower of Los Angeles, but in truth it was my Aunt Elza, his wife, who did the legwork. She had 5,000 tulips in their front yard on Copa de Oro Road in Bel-Air, and when they bloomed each spring they were a tourist attraction. I often marveled at her perspicacity in choosing the bird of paradise. It is so well suited to our city (of which I am a fourth-generation native -- my great-grandparents arrived in 1853)
August 11, 1985
Within minutes of reading Paul Dean's excellent article of March 31 on the Dordogne, and Gloria Lopez's sensitive piece on Mme. Gorse and Le Coux et Bigaroque, I shot off a letter reserving a place for my wife and me for this July. Now that I am actually here, I want you to know that Dean and Lopez were right on target. Castang is a kind of oasis in Paradise. The inn where one can speak English is a restful change for the weary American trying to remember high school French, and paradise is the marvelous food, gracious ambiance and, of course, the Dordogne Valley itself.