Pinky's Pizza and Pub Walnut Creek, Friday 6/5/26
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| Pinky's Collage #1 |
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| Pinky's collage #2 |
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| Pinky's Collage #3 |
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| Park collage #1 |
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| Park collage #3 |
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| Park collage #4 |
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| Goodbye and good luck from the two linchpins |
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| In Loving Memory |
On Saturday afternoon May 8th, about 200 people crossed the Park Street bridge en masse and walked through the heart of Alameda to the bay, carrying signs opposing the use of American weapons to kill children and other civilians. They were on leg 3 of the "Interfaith Pilgrimage for Palestine," a 12-mile march from Oakland City Hall to the Oakland Airport. Their humanitarian sentiments enjoy broad support in the island city, and many drivers honked their approval.
In the past, the pilgrimage focused on the slaughter in Gaza, and the Palestinians cut down in the West Bank. This year many pilgrims called for protecting children on all sides — in Israel and Palestine, and also in Lebanon and Iran. Many carried signs with the James Baldwin quote, "The children are always ours, every single one of them, all over the globe," and with the message "Stop killing our children, arms embargo now." The contingent from Friends of Standing Together (which promotes peace and equality in Israel/Palestine and includes many Jews and philo-semites) displayed a banner reading "In Gaza and Tel Aviv, All the Children Want to Live." And the outspoken Jewish presence on the march should be noted, with several t-shirts reading "Jews for a ceasefire" and "Not in Our Name."
Does all this mean the Palestinian cause will gain traction in Alameda? One telling indicator is the proposal that Alameda become sister cities with Wadi Foquin, a village near Bethlehem that is brutalized by Israeli settlers. When it was last considered in March 2025, it was opposed by a letter writing campaign organized by Christians United for Israel, and council member Tracy Jensen needed assurance Alameda's relationship with Wadi Foquin would be non-political. In the end, the council tabled the issue pending "formal engagement with the Alameda community and with Wadi Foquin." Nothing has been heard of the proposal since. One would hope that the council notes the 200 pilgrims who came to our island Saturday, with the message that we should not be supporting subjugating Palestine. They included many Alameda voters willing to take up an idea whose time is coming fast.
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| Sivan Tahel and Mohammed Abu Ahmad co-hosts of the memorial service in Tel Aviv "Once again we gather as war rages around us, continuing to claim countless victims. We want to imagine what the day after would look like." |
On Monday April 20, about 22,000 people across the planet watched a live cast of the 21st annual Joint Memorial Service, held every year by intrepid peace seekers to honor Israelis and Palestinians cut down in the forever war. This included a few dozen of us watching at the San Francisco Jewish Community Center. The theme of this year's memorial was We Are the Day After, which seems to cry out for a reality check given Israel's rightward course. But the theme makes sense in the clarity brought by grief. The slaughter cannot go on forever, and the survivors will need to acknowledge each other and build new lives.
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| Decoration in the lobby of the SF JCC |
The co-sponsors at the SF-JCC were J-Street and The New Israel Fund, and attendees were offered brochures emphasizing the fact that these organizations were pro-Israel, but called for conditioning sales of offensive weapons to Netanyahu's right-wing government — terms and stances important for situating themselves within the fractious Jewish left. Despite this careful positioning, one speaker introduced the live cast by saying that they had not assumed they could hold the event at a Jewish community center. And in truth, I had the same fears for San Francisco that the organizers had for Tel Aviv, despite the "Repair the World" and "Let Your House be Open" signs engraved in the sculpture in the lobby. But there were no counter-protesters, if protesters we were. You could also call me nostalgic for a world long gone, when being pro-Israel felt like being for the underdog.
When the screening was over I chatted with a few attendees.
My old friends J. and S. were there too. I have a fond memory of a Passover seder at their house, but none, pre-Gaza, of searching Israel/Palestine discussions. J. said he came with the realization that what Netanyahu represents is even worse than the corruption and escalating settler violence that we already know about. S. said she was committed to protective presence to shield West Bank villagers from settler attacks.
Three attendees rode with me to the East Bay after the event, when we were returned to our busy Northern Californian lives after The Day After. One was an Armenian-Palestinian painter L., who was a grade school student in Jerusalem in 1948 when the city was partitioned. L. and her Jewish best friends ended up on opposite sides of the cease fire line and never saw each other again. She criticized the memorial for being too even-handed, since Palestinian suffering has been much greater than Israeli. By the numbers she is correct.
T. commented that the first priority was to establish bonds around shared grief, and then after empathy comes analysis. The memorial did not shy away from describing the brutality of the occupation, or avoid the word "apartheid."
And S. recommended the approach of Buddhist Mindfulness meditation instructors Fulder and Shaheen, who had recently deviated from the apolitical tradition of that practice and were trying to build understanding across the great Mid-East divide. Their idea was that powerful Israel thought of itself as being in a ghetto, which justifies lashing out in self-protection, which leads to censure and more isolation. On the other side, Moshen Mahdawi, the Palestinian student at Columbia who was jailed by ICE for the crime of advocating for his people, found Buddhism useful for gaining a larger perspective on the conflict. If your interested, here's the audio for Fulder and Shaheen giving instruction on "Finding our Way Back Home."
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We gathered at noon at city hall to register our objection to unhinged violence and kleptomania at home and abroad. Despite the grim context the mood was festive. Mayor Ashcraft applauded the poetry and music enthusiastically, and when she spoke, she encouraged us to keep using our democratic rights to promote change. For example, by simply voting — mail in ballots make it so easy, and you don't need postage.
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| Her Honor Marilyn Ezzy Ashcraft |
She was well received. Two reasons she's popular are that Alameda is one of the few California cities to meet its new housing commitments; and that bike paths have been extended across the island. She also has points in common with Zohran Mamdani. Both are Arab-American mayors; advocate human rights for Palestinians; and receive significant Jewish support. After she spoke, I asked her honor for her impression of the event. She said she was happy to see so many people protesting constructively.
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I also talked to Brian, who wore an NRA hat and carried a big sign proclaiming "Sanctuary Cities Kill People." He hadn't come to make friends and told me that someone in the crowd had said they wished he was dead. Hmmm. He seemed relaxed in the company of those his Fรผhrer calls "radical left scum" (I object only to "scum"), and chatted amiably with me about how he sees the world (per Brian, the NRA is the country's oldest civil rights organization). We exchanged emails and agreed to enliven each others Facebook pages with some controversy.
… … …
The homeless meal was provided at the warming shelter run by Christ Episcopal Church on Santa Clara and Grand. For the five coldest months of the year they coordinate meals every day, and provide laundry and showers once a week. They have approximately 25 beds, and when those are filled the homeless are directed to shelters in Oakland. No one could tell me what happened to the clientele during the 7 warmer months, or whether there was a welll-worn path to permanent housing.
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| Christ Episcopal Social Justice Coordinator with homeless guy applying for disability after a job injury |
Before serving, we Unitarians received a round of applause from the clientele for our lavish spread. After serv ing, we filled our own plates and ate with the homeless. I joined a half-dozen guys, one wearing a Raiders cap. The table talk was about why that team was perennially awful, and the prevalence of brain injuries in the NFL. A transcript of the conversation wouldn't show that the speakers deserve to be despised and ignored. Note to the resistance: they're relatable; part of resistance is acknowledging that they're part of us.
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| Unitarians bearing food |
Trump's latest wars, and the protesters gunned down on the streets of Minneapolis, mean dark times for many of us. The echo chamber effect of social media has not helped. Even in Northern California you can feel like an oddball, lost in the crowd cheering on the carnage. But good vibes can still be found, just by waving signs on the I-80 Berkeley overpass on a Sunday afternoon — along with activists from Indivisible and kindred organizations. Honks of support from passing motorists can raise blue spirits.
I speak from two recent experiences. On 2/22 I went with five others from one of the kindred groups, SF Bay Area Friends of Standing Together (SF FoST). We displayed banners promoting peace and justice in Israel-Palestine (e.g., "From Gaza to Tel Aviv, All the Children Deserve to Live," and "End the Occupation to Free us All."). We were happy to get a honk of support about every 10 seconds, but in the Mid-East the results were not stellar. 18 Palestinians have been killed on the West Bank this year, many by settlers doing Netanyahu's bidding (that's equivalent to 1,800 Americans dying, or over half of our losses on 9/11/01). Worse, over 100 Gazans have died every month since the "ceasefire." Meanwhile, on 2/28 Trump expressed his frustration with Iran by assassinating its leadership and bombing its oil refineries. Black rain fell on Tehran, which could foul already drastically depleted aquifers.
And so on 3/15 SF FoSt came back with a new sign, "No War." We shared the overpass with Indivisible ("The GOP should get an Oscar for Gaslighting"). There was a small but noticeable uptick in the honk rate, and in the friendliness of passing pedestrians; this war, this President, is NOT popular.
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| inspireresistance & me" |
One of the sign bearers was the Bay Area influencer and Indivisible activist known as "inspireresistance" on Facebook . In 2025 she turned 50, lost her job, but decided her priority was to resist Trump 2.0. In years to come, she did not want to confess that she did nothing to halt our slide into autocracy. On a personal level it was a happy choice. She says she's more resilient now, and found a new job in HR. And on a political level the No Kings protests keep growing due largely to dedicated idealists like her.
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| G. |
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| K. |
And then there is K., who makes time for SF FoST despite a demanding professional life, and the little fact that she's still recovering from a concussion. She says there is an international progressive movement that is gathering strength — including in Israel, where over 90% of Israeli Jews line up behind Netanyahu's war on Iran. Bit by bit, mind by mind, she thinks can change even there.
Finally, the beautiful outdoor setting on a crisp, clear Mediterranean spring day does wonders for ye olde morale. From the overpass you can see a panorama of our Bay Area home: the Port of Oakland, San Francisco, Tamalpais. Across the overpass come cyclists, parents pushing strollers, geezers like me. All somehow embellished by being together a a non-virtual space; a sample of who and what we care about, and want to save from disaster.
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| Sasha Cutler's T-shirt reads "Protect Muslim Rights" |
We received honks of support about every 10 seconds, and some waves from jubilant motorists. On the overpass some were not happy with us. One person hurled "Zionist" as an epithet (evidently in response to Hebrew language signage). And a passing cyclist jabbed one of us hard with a finger (likely homophobia rather than a Mid-East statement). Such unpleasantries pale in the larger wag-the-dog context, with Trump diverting attention from Epstein embarrassments by threatening Iran. As well as the context of the ongoing, underreported carnage in Israel-Palestine. But the resistance is gathering force & Trump's poll numbers are fading. We freeway “bannerdeers” encourage American Jews, who are so prominent in the fight to save and deepen American democracy, to broaden their vision to include Palestinian rights to peace and equality. As one of our signs says, "End the Occupation to Free us All".
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| Sasha, amoeba, and me |
Standing Together is a progressive grassroots movement organizing Jewish and Palestinian citizens of Israel against the occupation and working for peace, equality, and social justice: https://www.standing-together.org/en
For SF FosT news and events: https://www.instagram.com/standing.together.sfbay/
There are always some in the lobby, slumped silently in wheelchairs. They perk up when the outside door opens, like flowers bending toward light. But in my entire month of in-patient fracture care, I've never seen one get an actual visit. I can relate. Instead of pretending I don't see them, I pretend I'm someone somebody's wanting to see.
And so I met Merle and Gladys, married so long they can forget how they know each other. But they always recall something about a son. I'll hold hands, and tell "mom" and "dad" about my amazing circumstances. They'll nod.
Today is special. "My girlfriend wants to say hi," I say, holding out my phone.
"What's her name?" Gladys whispers.
She would ask that. In the week we've been talking and stuff I haven't got that far. "I call her Honey," I say.
"Hello Hon!" Gladys says, with the throaty cheer of the ex-hashhouse waitress she is.
……… ……… ………
Back up in my room I'm on the edge of the bed. My honey reminds me she's not my girlfriend.
"Thanks for humoring them," I say.
"Just who do you think we are?" she asks.
Good question. She's a retired school teacher in Wheeling, West Virginia, a blue drop in a red ocean, who hits on guys she finds on Facebook. I'm a stuffy, sixtyish white guy, adrift in the brave blue world of Alameda, California; so lonely I responded to "hello handsome" with "what are you wearing?"
"You tell me" I say.
"We're nothing at all," she says, "after tomorrow." Long pause. "Found someone."
"Someone real?", I venture.
She allows that's so. He's a lab tech at a detox center, and their chemistry reading is off the charts: unlike me, he would never plead for civility when she denounces "President Dickhead."
Unlike Trump, I would never contest my ouster. Her soul mate can have her.
……… ……… ………
Next day, Gladys wears a contented smile when I leave for my constitutional, as if she has a sweet, ultimately solitary practice too. "Tell her from me she's a lucky girl!" she calls after me.
"You were lucky to have me," I tell my phone.
"Heard," my attentive friend says. "You have an obedient streak."
"Within limits."
"Perfect," she says, "remember my limit. Today it's over."
Instead of the usual beach walk, she wants the library for our last date. Where I worked before I fell down the stairs and landed in rehab. My so cool colleagues considered me hopelessly antiquated. She knows I dread returning after I'm discharged.
It's across Oak from the police department. I linger at the memorial for cops killed on the job, narrating for her. "The busts of Davey and Gresham are mounted on thin pedestals. 'IN VALOR THERE IS HOPE' is engraved in the pavement."
"Stop stalling!" my insistent friend says. "Show some valor yourself and cross the street."
I obey.
……… ……… ………
Wouldn't you know it, the first librarian I meet is Angie. I don't approve of the Goth tattoos covering her neck, wrists, and doubtless much else; semi-tolerable when she was decades younger. She is famous around town for learning to read in prison, and like everyone I'm a sucker for tales of redemption. But there are limits; nobody needs to turn pages while walking to the restroom. Plus she tells everyone her tacky motto, "So Many Books, So Little Time," and she sprinkles cliches over conversations like confetti.
"Angie!" I say, so she won't walk into me.
She lowers Kindred, mouth round with astonishment. "Roger! How you been? When you back?"
"Next week."
"Can't wait! Well, one day at a time."
……… ……… ………
Outside again, I tell it to my phone. "Evidently they don't loathe me quite as much as before."
"I heard, Roger," my fleeting friend says. "You'll do fine. Goodbye."
……… ……… ………
I stop by the hospital then return to the library after my second day back. Hooray, Angie waits outside like she said she would. I park, and we push a couple of wheelchairs to Tucker's, the cavernous ice cream parlor that's an Alameda institution. Our group settles around a window table. I fetch treats. Bliss.
There's something orgiastic about a Banana Split, the creamy sweetness that won't stop coming, the name itself encoding the essence of the canonical sex act. Merle sighs contentedly, then speaks with the gentle diffidence of the ex-motel clerk that he is. "You know, that we know, that you're not him, correct?"
"Find us our real son," Gladys says.
"Ninety percent of life is just showin' up," Angie says.
"Materializing counts as showing up," says I.
Angie raises pierced eyebrows and smiles cautiously, like she hopes I referenced Star Trek. I shrug expansively to ward off questions, and for one, glimmering, sliver of a second, my practiced hand lightly brushes hers.
© ยต 2026
Pinky's Pizza and Pub Walnut Creek, Friday 6/5/26 Pinky's Collage #1 Pinky's collage #2 Pinky's Collage #3 Heather Farms ...
