Thomas Appleton writes about how Alta Bates staff treated dozens of burned patients while watching the fire approach the hospital.
When Gary and I moved from Ithaca, New York, back to the Bay Area in 1990 and looked for a house, the threat of fire never crossed my mind.
The 100-foot-high Monterey pine stood in her Central Berkeley neighborhood — until it was taken down.
Jenny Wong, Berkeley’s city auditor, talks about growing up as an immigrant and the anti-Asian hate her family experienced.
Kate Pope, 91, was also cheered by the vaccine helpers who are volunteering their time.
Sometimes this year’s overwhelming darkness provides a kind of canvas onto which acts of true goodness can be spotlit.
This is a story about death in the age of COVID-19. It is the story of one death — my mother’s — but it is emblematic of hundreds that are starting to happen, quietly and quickly, across the country.
Justin Jones, 22, has been navigating the streets and shelters of the East Bay since he was 18. But he is more than a statistic.
While Andy Pope was living on the streets, he was reluctant to find a cheaper locale in which to live because he didn’t want to leave his support network. He eventually changed his mind.
My friend Michelle Marie Larson was a giving person, but living on the streets took its toll. In October last year, she died on Shattuck Avenue, an apparent suicide.
The East Bay offers a wonderful choice of pools for swimming laps. Here’s a roundup of a selection tried so far by a relative newcomer to Berkeley.
Rosemarie Alejandrino went to Caffe Med on its penultimate night. It was empty and quiet, two words she would have never thought to describe the place that was always full of heart and lively chaos.