Wednesday, March 01, 2006 | There I was, a septuagenarian, rolling around on the front lawn, wrestling with a guy less than a third my age. It was a Friday morning and I had been getting ready to leave for Rancho Bernardo where I would give a talk to a veterans group.

I’d finally got the knot fixed just so on my tie when I heard a commotion out front. I looked out and there was my son, Mike, wrestling with a young guy. At first I thought it was my grandson and I wondered whose side I should take, or if I should take sides.

Perhaps being ancient and creaky wasn’t all that much of a disadvantage. I was bigger at six foot four and 215 lbs.

Tagging is bad news.

Graffiti is intended to mark territory for gangs, but it mostly serves as a de facto invitation to other gangs. Then someone tags the same fence and so it goes. Pretty soon you have spray paint all over the place, and the neighborhood ends up looking like hell.

“You’ll never guess what happened to me on the way here today.”

Keith Taylor is a retired Navy officer. He can be reached at

Or submit a letter to the editor here.

Leave a comment

We expect all commenters to be constructive and civil. We reserve the right to delete comments without explanation. You are welcome to flag comments to us. You are welcome to submit an opinion piece for our editors to review.

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.