By Mark Drolette
On a picture-perfect St. Patrick’s Day morning, I heard that strangely seductive lament of bagpipes drifting through the open window of my downtown Sacramento apartment, a second-story unit right across the street from beautiful Capitol Park (an expanse of delightful urban greenery sullied only by the presence of the White Sepulcher of Corruption, otherwise known as the State Capitol, sitting smack dab in its middle).
Curious, I headed outside.
Spotting a sizeable crowd near the California Vietnam Veterans Memorial that sits just inside the park, I moseyed over.
Continue reading "Ol’ Smedley knew a racket when he saw (and slew for) one" »
