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Steve Lopez |
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When I first wrote about my sister's health problems earlier this year, a Cedars-Sinai doctor I know called to ask if he could help in any way. Actually, I said, I'd appreciate a referral to a good oncologist.
I didn't get very far Thursday at City Hall in Inglewood, the town whose public officials keep filling the pages of this newspaper, often without saying a word.
I got a haircut in Iraq once, just after the first Gulf War, and wondered if it was smart to offer up my head to a stranger with a razor.
Will white voters sell Barack Obama out?
Alba had a smile on her face last week when I arrived at the Los Angeles nursing home where she hustles through long, hard shifts night after night. Hard to believe she'd be in high spirits after changing the diaper of an elderly woman, but she had one thing going for her:
All I was trying to do was catch a lift at City Hall. I was an innocent man, hoping for one small act of human kindness in the cold, cruel city.
If you'll indulge a confession, I'm a happy guy sitting across from a cop -- or even a retired cop -- with my notebook on the table and a beer in my hand. They've all got stories, some funny, some dark, some of them even true.
At 2:30 p.m. Thursday, Juan Estrada was lying in bed at St. Vincent Medical Center telling me it would be pandemonium in the hospital the next night when his son entered the boxing ring in Beijing.
In today's installment of Read It and Weep: Your Tax Dollars at Work, we visit a besieged Highland Park mom-and-pop grocery store owned by the Antonio family.
Remember the July 29 earthquake that rocked Southern California but produced no injuries?
