My feisty New York artist mother has often said, “The Metropolitan Museum is my best friend.
Farmers Market At the entrance to the Saturday farmers market in Tracy, California, I call out to each passerby. Latinos, Asians, white folks like me; people with head scarves, Trump hats, tattoos hurry past, pushing strollers, trundling groceries. “Hey, could I have a few minutes of your time to ask some questions?” I shout over the hubbub of the street. A 40ish Asian woman pauses, examines me quizzically. “Maybe,” she says, “What’s this all about?” I have a wide brimmed hat, wide smile, silver hair, and a sign on my clipboard declaring in red white and blue—Register to Vote. I’ve come here from Berkeley to help turn this swing congressional district from red to blue. The woman has black h
