By Ted Furlow

 There is a cement walk on the east side of the Pastoral Center marked with a “perpetual puddle.” The puddle, a testimony to poor concrete finishing, is always a challenge to step around in the mornings after a lawn watering. I move with something less than gazelle like grace, so I keep a close eye on it to avoid splashing or slipping.

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By Ted Furlow

 Among my favorite places is the Golden Gate Bridge.  You can park your car at the toll plaza, walk up to the bridge, and look out over the expanse of the gate.  Beginning at Fort Point on the San Francisco side, you can trace the graceful arch of the bridge as it extends to Fort Mason on the Marin County side.  It is at the same time, a thing of beauty and a remarkable achievement for the ambitious and imaginative nature of man.  Placed in the parking area is a life sized bronze of Joseph Strauss, the Chief Engineer for the bridge, along with  a plaque on the pedestal extolling his accomplishments, his experience in building bridges, and his expertise as an engineer.

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By Ted Furlow

 It was 6 a.m. on a cold Saturday morning when I saw him wrapped in a dirty blanket and sitting on a concrete planter. I first noticed while we were unloading gear from my car; setting up to cook breakfast for the homeless people in Lincoln Park, and even from the curb I could see that he was emaciated, shivering in the cold, covered with nasty lesions, and alone. 

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