What Happened to My City?

      Essay written in Feb 2017.  Published June 2020

I was born and raised in Berkeley – something I had, at one time, been proud of. However, so much has changed since the 60’s, that I barely recognize my city.

I was in 6^th grade during the Free Speech Movement and my elementary school was less than a mile from the Cal campus. The majority of my classmates had parents who were in some way affiliated with the university; some had studied there while others were faculty members. Therefore, it was not surprising that the kids at my school were rather well informed about the historic situation unfolding just down the road. It would have a lasting impact on all our lives.

   

It was even more exciting for me because my friend’s father was a prominent Political Science professor at Cal with connections to the leaders of the Free Speech Movement. I remember being at her house when the phone would ring, she would answer, then call out to her father that it was for him. She would then run over to me and whisper in awe, It’s Mario Savio! He had rock star status, even to a couple of 12-year-old Berkeley kids.

A large number of our parents were 60’s liberals and democrats. They believed in a country for all. They believed in tolerance. They believed in civility. Many had come from working class backgrounds, and all the dads had served in the military in WWII. Most had used the GI Bill to get their university degrees at Cal and some stayed on to become faculty members. All of our mothers and fathers were hardworking and did not expect handouts. Perhaps these are some of the reasons there is such a difference between today’s liberals and those of my youth.

Much of my junior high and high school years were spent peacefully protesting the war in Viet Nam, defending the right of People’s Park, and engaging in debate about the future of our country. Conversations could become quite heated, yet I do not remember anyone being frightened of physical repercussions should their views oppose another’s. There were police altercations; some of them rather intense. But to the best of my knowledge, there were never any bands of black-clad anarchists intent on destroying the campus and city, with a total disregard to the views of others.

Berkeley, to me, now represents the opposite of the Flower Child ideals of my youth. It has turned into a city of close-mindedness, intolerance, and the belief that there is only one correct avenue of thought. And although I still hold one or two of my 60’s beliefs, I will never accept the methods by which these now seem to be promoted. Regrettably, this new paradigm begins long before students arrive at UC Berkeley.

When I was growing up, we may have guessed at the political views of some of our teachers, but not one of them ever preached what their students should believe. We were encouraged and allowed to express our own opinions. As a lifelong educator, I still uphold the edict that was taught to me during my college courses. We were instructed that we could never even display political buttons on our clothing or divulge which candidate we supported. This tenet was to allow for students to come to their own conclusions as well as to protect the views of their parents who might have differing political affiliations.

My, how that has changed in the ensuing years. One example is a secondary school teacher in Berkeley who is one of the leaders of the movement to tear down our country. In February 2017, during destructive riots on the UC Berkeley campus, this teacher stood in front of a crowd with a megaphone screaming “…. if we stick together and stay united…. We can shut this f***er down. We can get rid of Donald Trump.” (I believe she is still employed by the district.) Then there was the elementary school Peace (protest) March on the day of the inauguration with 6-year-olds holding Not my President signs. And the 7^th grader whose I Have a Dream essay began: “Donald Trump should be killed,” because “he hates women”. Walk into any school in the city and you will find these same sentiments on the walls and in the classrooms, coupled with a complete lack of tolerance for any opposing views.

So vile is the rhetoric against President Trump in my city, that I am fairly sure the inauguration was not shown at most, if any, of the public schools. As a politically aware child of the 60’s, I have made sure to watch every inauguration. It does not matter that I may have disagreed with the incoming president on any number of issues. I have always seen it as my civic duty to witness one of the great hallmarks of our nation, the peaceful transfer of power. Jan 20, 2017 was no different. Regrettably, my local state official did not share my view. Along with many other House Democrats, she chose to boycott the inauguration. I had wanted to call her office and register my objection. After all, I am one of her constituents and strongly felt that my district should be represented for this momentous occasion. But one cannot do that in Berkeley. When one lives in a city, district, and state that is so vehemently opposed to the president, it is not wise to speak out in favor of civic duty and responsibility.

I remember when Nixon was elected in 1969, and how terribly upset that made me feel. I could not believe that it had happened. My parents had been equally unhappy about the outcome. But it was my die-hard Democrat father who pointed out that the American people had spoken, and it was something I had to accept.

Growing up in this city in the 60’s is why I became an educator. I truly believed that I could change the world through education. At this point in my life, I am totally disillusioned with a profession that seems to have taken two steps back for every step forward. I grew up in the city where the Free Speech Movement originated. We were the first city in the nation to integrate its schools. There have always been strong ties between the University and the public schools, both in research and innovation. One would think that we would now be a sterling example of how to educate young children. We are not.  

What has happened to freedom of thought, freedom of expression, and the first amendment on which my city built its reputation? The Berkeley I knew no longer exists. 

The Oakland A's and Hot Pants Day

No live sports for months. This may be the worst part about the lockdowns.

We should all be watching baseball. Spring Training has come and gone and who knows when the boys will take the field again.

I’ve been left to watch replays in my mind, recollecting the Oakland A’s of old. We had a great team back then, filled with the superb players; Vida Blue, Rollie Fingers, Catfish Hunter, Sal Bando, Campaneris, Tenace – the list goes on. Owner Charlie Finley, quite a character, came up with gimmicks to promote the games. Hot Pants Day, June 27, 1971, had to be a favorite.

That particular day was hot and sunny – not a given in Oakland, for the game against the Kansas City Royals. The word went out: show up at the Oakland Coliseum in Hot Pants and you gained free admission. How good was that? And these weren’t bleacher seats being given away. A pair of hot pants got you a great spot in the stands.

  Hot Pants Day Odd Ball Films

Women in the thousands showed up to fill the Coliseum. During the 7^th inning stretch, the gals were invited to walk down out of the stands and parade around the infield. It doesn’t get much better for a baseball fan than setting foot onto sacred grounds and passing within one foot of Reggie Jackson and the rest of the boys.

Perhaps sometime this year I will be able to turn on the TV and watch a live game. I long to hear the crack of a bat when it connects to a fastball. Or watch a right fielder dive for an impossible catch and make it. Perhaps the A’s will have an exceptional season. Honestly, I’d settle for any type of season at this point if it meant filled stands and great plays.

Hot pants have come and gone, but will forever be linked to a fabulous day at the Oakland Coliseum.
FURTHER BASEBALL MUSINGS: SF Giants in the DR

Question Authority

I grew up in the sixties in perhaps the most liberal city in the country, albeit when liberalism was quite a different animal. Back then, civil liberties mattered. As a teenager, my friends and I protested against the Viet Nam War. We demonstrated against the draft. We valued our freedoms and revered the First Amendment. Question Authority may have been the most popular bumper sticker of the times. 

The Gulag Archipelago, and 1984, were among mandatory reading material for the enlightened youth of my day. We well knew of the Soviet means of controlling their populations. We found it difficult to comprehend how a populace could go along with such measures. (Granted, there were more than a few who idolized Che and Cuba, or carried Mao’s Little Red Book, but that’s a topic for another day)

So why is it now, in 2020, that I am chastised by the old guard who used to cry foul when our civil liberties were at stake?  Why is it deemed wrong to express the opinion that we can both protect the vulnerable and get back to work and open schools? Why does no one seem to mind Big Brother intruding on our liberties a little more with each passing day? For the mere mention of what I consider to be huge government overreach that is causing far greater damage than any virus ever could, I am reprimanded.  

At some point during the lockdown, I decided it might be nice to check in with a few people I have known over the years just to make sure they were all well. In emails and texts, I calmly stated my thoughts regarding the situation and mentioned that it was time to get the economy going. I also expressed my distaste for the Stasi tactics of snitch lines, and my extreme anger at China for having done this to the world.

The replies I got were scathing. I was basically accused of being selfish, wanting people to die, and labeled an outright racist for calling out China. To say the least, I was shocked. One friend left a ranting voicemail that I needed to quit spreading far-right conspiracy lies. Afterall, she pointed out, she had read the truth on Facebook. I honestly did not know that people of my generation relied on news from Facebook. As I recall, we were all brought up to check references, as well as memorizing the adage: Don’t Believe Everything You Read.

As a self-described loner, who thought I would not be bothered by the isolation, I am finding that it really is getting to me. It has nothing to do with sitting alone in my house. It is the isolation of thought. I cannot express my opinion to friends, nor to any of the regular folks in line at the grocery store in this birthplace of the Free Speech Movement. I’m a mellow gal, and do not rant and rave. It’s not my style. Humor and smiles are my preferred mode of communication. However, if I say anything about the lockdown or China, I get a stern look, a shoulder shrug, along with we have to save people. I feel absolutely and totally alone in my views.

Except for when I talk to the workers holding things together, something I have always done, and make an extra effort to do these days. We commiserate, complain about the insanity, and laugh. I’ve worked in the service industry. I know what a friendly word, a thank you, or compliment means when you’re stuck behind a counter or stocking the aisles.

My new favorite place is Home Depot. Actually, it’s always been a favorite place, especially the garden center. I talk to the employees, the workers buying materials, and the few plant buyers. What could be better than walking around in the sunshine and sharing gardening tips? I feel alive and happy.

But then I get home and realize just how alone I am in my beliefs, surrounded by people who seem happy to give up their rights and bow to the whims of government control, all while disregarding the lives being devastated by the shutdown. Or the fact that Big Tech is currently censoring opposing views. It is quite depressing.

I have lived in countries where voicing an opinion that contradicted government policy landed you in the clink, at the very least. That experience is where I truly learned the greatness of our First Amendment. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that Americans might be in danger of losing those rights.  Furthermore, not in a million years did I ever think my compatriots would allow it to happen.

Twitter, 2nd Attempt

Honestly, I just do not understand Twitter. Rather, I do not understand how people use it. Do they follow a list of IMPORTANT people and then just stare at their screens all day?  Or are they more like me who hears about tweets on the newscasts?

Recently, I've found that I do check one person's tweets on a daily basis, because it generally makes my day. But that's once a day. And only one, sometimes two, people. 

I somewhat understand the desire to respond to a particular tweet. But then I think, Why?  Who the heck cares what one unknown, albeit quite marvelous, author thinks? Answer: No one.

All the same, in these desperate times of unemployment, I am trying to come up with more marketing strategies.  Everything I've read tells me that authors must have Facebook. Several attempts at following that recommendation ended with deletion of my account. Facebook is entirely to voyeuristic and creepy for me. I tried the Twitter account a few years back. Did it get me noticed as an author? Of course not. Does anyone care what Kate McVaugh thinks? Most likely not. 

Then yesterday, I opened a brand new Twitter account. Believe me, I am never at a lack for things  to say. I can rattle on forever about a myriad of topics. Again I asked myself, who cares? At least who cares when its a few lines typed into a box. The answer remained the same: No one.

Therefore, all I have up on my new Twitter is my name, a link to my Amazon page, and one minor observation. I'm not following anyone. I have not Liked any tweets and, so far, have kept my opinions about other people's tweets to myself.  

Yet, according to the stats, 50 people have seen my tweets and 5 have Engaged. Huh? How is that possible? What does Engaged mean?

For right now, it's another experiment. So far, I have no reason to delete my account. It does not come with the icky feelings I experienced with Facebook. Will it make me a Bestselling Author? Rather doubtful, but it doesn't hurt to try. Something has to work!

Tofu!

Cedar Waxwings in the Cedar

It has been a month since I have been able to buy tofu...or maybe only three weeks. Lately, the days all seem to run together. However long it's been, I am thrilled.

Week one of lockdown I was only able to buy three cans of beans and a dozen eggs from 7-11.  The following week I managed to score the last whole chicken at Safeway. Then today, not only did Trader Joe's have tofu, but also tortillas. 

Forget hand sanitizer, bleach, alcohol, (not the drinking type), Lysol, or anything else one is supposed to use to kill the germs. Shameless hoarders.

Mostly, it's nice to get out and stand in line, six feet apart, from other early morning shoppers. We still manage to converse and share tales of the supply wars. 

Inside the shops, I make sure to thank all the workers doing a job that has to be wearing on mind and body. I would always do this, but especially now when those checkers and shelvers tell me tales of customers who yell at them for not having a product available. They seem to be verbally abused on a daily basis. Here in the Land of Peace and Love, I find that quite disturbing. This morning, I witnessed a bit of that nastiness first hand.

A small group of about five people stood socially-distanced in front of CVS,

waiting for them to open at 9AM. Mostly 70+ year-old hippie types, so harmless enough. I turned when I heard one old gal scream at another old hipster to Get To the End of the Line! He returned with F*ck You! To which she yelled back F*ck You!    

Fortunelty, it was then that the doors opened. These two kept at it a while longer. I suppose they had forgotten their peace signs and ohm shirts at home.

Now, if only the sun will come out, it might just be a perfect day!

Free Books on Kindle

There is not much I can personally do to help out during these stay-at-home days, or so I thought. But of course I can!  I write books. I can give away free kindle copies.

Free kindle Downloads   March 23 - March 27   (5 different titles)

An added feature is that my works are mostly fun mysteries & capers, light-hearted, take-your-mind-off-the-world, laugh a lot books. 

How about a trip to Bali?  Broadsided in Bali 

Or Tel Aviv ?   Murder, Jaz, & Tel Aviv  -   Jaz, Tall Men, & Mayhem

Travel from Monterey, California to Mexico. Bad Accounts

And a bit of Magical Realism in Brazil, with The Many Wonders of Costa Contente.

I am trying to set up a free promo with my latest A Neapolitan Intrigue, but am having a bit of trouble. That should be resolved soon.

Please enjoy!

Day 2

Plans for getting a lot of writing done were not realized today. I blame it on the fog and cold. Try as I may, this brain does not creatively function in such conditions.
Yes, I do realize that is a rather poor excuse.

To anyone stuck at home and thinking of writing, how about turning the next month into a NaNoWriMo extravaganza? What people are able to accomplish during the event that takes place every November, never ceases to amaze me. They actually do have a physical headquarters, which I visited a few years ago.
The Office of Light and Letters

One could also use the time to read some light-hearted, fun, escapism books. All of my titles would suit the bill. If you have Amazon Prime, kindle editions are free.

Tomorrow, I hope will prove to be more productive!

Day 1 Self Isolation

It's the first day of Mandatory Self Isolation.  As said previously, I self-isolate most days as a matter of choice. Still, I wondered if anything would feel different.  And there were changes. No traffic, for one.

I live on a fairly busy street. It's not big and wide, not in the middle of a large major city, but it is a commute route for folks trying to cut through town. Commute hours are the worst. But this morning, at around 6am, scarcely a car rushed past on its way to wherever it is cars go. 

It continued to improve. The workers on the mansion down the street, for the first time in nearly two years, did not arrive. A day without tile cutters, drills, machinery piercing the ears of all the neighbors, is better than almost anything I can imagine.

The day was off to a good start. Why not try and drive to the supermarket to see if anything was available? Those three cans of beans were not sounding so appetizing. Maybe they'd have toilet paper and hand sanitizer, although I doubted it, after last nights rush to Stock Up Before Mandatory Stay At Home orders. (which does not include shopping, but that did not seem to register with the populace.)

First, I made a quick stop at the 7-11 convivence store, for completely unnecessary items. Who knew that 7-11 carried eggs? Who knew I'd ever buy real food at 7-11? I then realized that I could forgo making a pointless trip into Safeway for another few days. By the end of the week, there might be foodstuffs back on the shelves.

I drove by a couple of CVS pharmacy stores but did not bother to go inside. On the door they had posted a large sign stating: No Toilet Paper, No Hand Sanitizer, No Bleach, and so on. 

On the way back home, I drove by Peet's Coffee and was surprised to find they were open. My coffee supply is running low, and although I have been reduced to instant coffee in many places I have traveled to around the world, it was not a thought I relished. I bought my pound of freshly ground beans in a store that had removed all tables and chairs. I sort of wanted to dance, what with all the open space.

As I sit here in the afternoon, (neglecting that latest book I should be pounding out), I keep marveling at the stillness in the air and the lack of engines revving up and down the street. It is very odd indeed. But quite wonderful.

Officialy on Lockdown

The entire San Francisco Bay Area is now officially on lockdown.

Regrettably, I don't live on a charming Italian street where the residents come out on their balconies to sing with their neighbors.

Fortunately, I live in a house with a lovely garden I can work in...provided the rain stops and it warms up. Except that we want the rain after almost no winter wetness here. I can wait.

I have no problem avoiding restaurants and nightclubs and concerts and crowds. I am basically a loner, by choice, and am happy with my own company most of the time. I hate crowds at all times. So all in all, the Shelter in Place mandate actually doesn't change my life.

The problem lies in the food chain and the hoarders. I'm not a big person. I do not require a lot of food. Still, I sort of need to occassionaly eat. 

Last week I took an a friend to Trader Joe's market. It has never been my market of choice, but usually I pick up a few things. However, once at the front entrance I told my friend I would wait for her outside. The place was packed tighter than a can of sardines with lines clear to the back of the store. My concern was less corona virus than claustrophbia and the commom cold.

A few days later, I went down to the local Safeway at 7am. I thought I might beat the crowds, and I may have. However, the store was by no means early morning empty. The poor employees rushed to unpack and shelve items. They looked knackered. I tried to make cheery remarks and thank them as I went about trying to get a few items.

No eggs, no tofu, no soy milk, no oatmeal, one package of suspicious looking chicken. (which I left on the shelf.)  I got the last pakage of spaghetti. No toilet paper, no cleaning supplies, no tissues. What are people thinking? What happened to the concept of sharing?

And now we all have to be locked up and only go out for necessary items. I am a little unhappy that I might have to go out into the Germ Zone every single day until I find a package of toilet paper, or a carton of milk. I know I will never again see a bottle of bleach or container of hand sanitizer. 

The lockdown goes into effect at midnight. I'll give it a few days before I once again try to find some sort of protien. The three cans of beans should last until then. 

Success at Barnes & Noble

On Feb 15, Four Local Authors provided an inspirational and entertaining panel at Barnes & Noble in El Cerrito, CA.

Featured Authors: Irene Sardanis,Barbara J. Carr, H K Boughazian, Kate McVaugh, sat on a panel at B&N's first, Local Featured Authors Event.

We had a nice crowd of all ages who listened to the authors, and participated in an interesting Q&A session.

Many thanks to Manager Pam, and program coordinator Ayla.

A Great Time was had by all!

Featured Auther Event - Featuring Kate McVaugh

MEET YOUR FEATURED LOCAL AUTHORS 

Saturday, Feb 15, 2:00pm.
Barnes & Noble
El Cerrito Plaza, El Cerrito, CA

Drop by to hear short readings from Kate and two other local authors.

Q& A to follow.    All are welcome.

Eucalyptus Magic

In the East Bay Hills of the San Francisco Bay area, Eucalyptus trees dot the landscape. Some might say that they are a dangerous tree; highly flammable and easily breakable. But I love them. There is no better feeling than to inhale their heady aroma while strolling beneath them.

There is no rain here in the summer, and this year the wet weather came later than usual, at the end of November. A few days after the first soaker of the season, I noticed something odd - the wet eucalyptus trunks were striped in color. 

I had heard of Rainbow Eucalyptus and seen pictures of brilliantly colored tree trunks in tropical countries. But ours have never looked anything but shades of brown and grey. Suddenly, my trees had taken on a earth-toned rainbow appearance.

The following day I took a walk to get a closer look and take photos. It turned out the pictures from my cheap mobile phone came out better than with the expensive camera. My mistake. Wrong lens. When I returned the following week, just as I had expected, the fun colors had returned to their normal tones.

Whatever the reason - chemical reaction to the rain after an extended dry period, or a magical spell, it was a sight to behold. 

Flowers, Flowers, Flowers

Copyright Floret Farms

Copyright Floret Flowers

My entire life, I have dreamed of living amongst rows and rows, and beds and beds of flowers. Brilliant colors, intoxicating scents, sharing the air with hummingbirds, bees, and butterflies.

I doubt I will ever actually achieve that dream, but fill the need to be surrounded by flowers by visiting nurseries. And then I found FLORET FLOWERS.
It has to be the most beautiful site in which to indulge the senses. If you really concentrate, you can smell the earth and foliage, and hear the birds.

Erin and family own this spectacular family farm, located in Washington State. It's a bit to cold and wet for me to ever consider living there, but I now am up for a road trip just to see their spectacular place. 


Not only does the site have beautiful photos, but they offer workshops and resources, and have free eBooks and mini-courses.

You can also purchase their book, Cut Flower Garden. It is a winner.

Thank you Floret Farms for putting joy into my day, every single time I pull up your site!

A Neapolitan Intrigue - Free Kindle Download

Download a free copy of A Neapolitan Intrigue, July 26 & 27.
Amazon Free Download


Present day Naples, Italy, and Berkeley, CA, circa 1969; what could possibly be the connection?

It's a question Letty will have to answer if she is to survive her recent retirement from the CIA and Interpol. 

Great summer read.  Mystery, Cozy Thriller, and a little bit of history.

Summer Solstice 2019

The longest day of the year. The Summer Solstice. A day of positive energy and glorious sunlight. That is, of course, if you do not live in the San Francisco Bay Area. 

Once again, we awakened to sucked in fog and bitterly cold weather. So much for seeing the sun rise and pop through an ancient temple. There actually is a Sunstone at a local science museum, but they are closed at sunrise and no one there seemed to know what I was talking about.

Photo: garethwiscombe - Wikipedia 

Stonehenge. Now that would be incredible. Except that it is so packed with folks on the same mission that I think it might be hard to see and really enjoy.

Machu Picchu, in Peru, is another site. Intihuatana, the stone solar clock at the top of the mountain marks the event. A younger me would have relished that experience. I figure now, I most likely would keel over and drop dead from the lack of oxygen.

Intihuana - Wikipedia photo 

The ancient Mayan temple El Castillo, at Chichen Itza in Mexico, is the place to be for the equinoxes. I was there, ages ago, but not for the equinox. And now I hear you can't even climb up the temple which produces a shadow snake twice a year. I did scale the temple, and almost did not return.  I don't particularly like heights, especially when ascending ancient stone steps with nothing more than a chain to hang on to. Then I made it to the top, gazed out over the marvelous ruins and jungle, then glanced down the steps. My stomach did a 180. How was I ever going to descend all those steps which appeared to be at a 45 degree angle? Obviously, I did make it back down, walking backwards, stooped over, and hanging on to the chain for dear life.

Photo:Fcb981 -Wikipedia  

Maybe next year I will find an ancient site in which to witness the sunrise on the solstice. Or I could look into the Southern Hemisphere Summer Solstice. That's only six months away. I don't know of any historical monuments, but there must be some.

The sun finally made an appearance, and I plan to enjoy every single minute of this special day.

What's Up with Amazon AU?

I published my first book, Murder, Jaz, & Tel Aviv, through BookSurge.  A few years later, they morphed into CreateSpace, and things just got better. I was now able to format everything on my own without paying for the service. Also, I was able to run free eBook giveaways. Then Amazon took over and things again changed. 

I didn't really mind that KDP started charging for running a free eBook giveaway. It never resulted in many reviews. Although I probably have around 1000 free downloads on various titles, I have received less than five reviews. Still it was a way to get some publicity. 

But now, the problem is with distribution of my paperbacks in the Amazon Australia market. With the exception of my first book, all of my titles have been available on Amazon AU at the US$ equivalent price.

When my latest, A Neapolitan Intrigue launched in March, it surprised me that the only way to purchase the paperback in Australia was through a UK distributor, at nearly double the US price.

It is my understanding that print-on-demand books are printed in the country where they are ordered. The US certainly cannot be the only ones with this technology. So why is it that my new book is not available for a reasonable price in Australia? 

Countless emails to KPD Publishing and Amazon, both US and AU, have left me baffled.

"Kate, as we mentioned it can take up to 45 days for the website to reflect these changes. However, we can't guarantee your book will be available through our Global Store."  

Huh? Why not?

"In your case Kate, your paperback is not being fulfilled by Amazon itself, it is only be offered by the third party sellers."  

Once more...huh?

"Again, Amazon is not directly affiliated with these sellers, and we do not control certain aspects of their Amazon product listing, including price, shipping, condition and delivery terms. Hence we can not force them to change the price or take any action on their copies."   

Amazon, I do not understand. You are the sellers. You set the parameters for printing a book. If it's not you, then who is it?

Should anyone have any idea what is going on, please contact me.

And a side thought: Why doesn't Amazon AU have an Author's Page available? I don't worry about that too much, but what a shame for my fellow Australian Independent Authors. 

Pebble Beach - U.S. Open: Nighttime Reading

After watching a long day of the U.S. Open in Pebble Beach, this might just be the perfect read.

Set in Monterey & Carmel, the very same neighborhood as The Open, BAD ACCOUNTS, would be a good addition to that late night cocktail

Top notch accountant Pia might have suspected her bosses of cooking the books, but when you’re fifty-two and jobs are scarce, it’s easy to look the other way. Or it is until you find out that your employers might be managing the finances of a drug cartel, right there in your hometown. Stealing a few files to implicate her bosses seemed like a good idea… until Pia finds a gun in her front yard, apparently dropped by an inept hitman.

Maybe she should have listened to Brad and quit her job instead of absconding with the incriminating documents. But it’s too late for regrets now, and she’s a marked woman. Luckily for Pia, Brad puts his surfing on hold long enough to help get her out of town and down to Ocean Beach. Unfortunately, that might not be enough. Crossing the border into Mexico may be the only answer.

From Monterey, California all the way to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, aging gangsters, bungling rent-a-cops, and an out-of-his-element hitman, thwart Pia’s every move. But with the help of a few surfers and their friends, she’s determined to not only stay alive, but to see the drug cartel shut down once and for all.