What Alcatraz Is Not

Alcatraz is not haunted by tortured spirits nor crisscrossed with subterranean caverns. It never got used as a terrorist base, nor were there only men living on it. The children who lived there grew up untraumatized and were never held hostage. We don't have any fast food for sale at the Rock now, and all the really kitschy souvenirs are sold on the San Francisco side.

The majority of Alcatraz prisoners were not murderers, and no one was ever executed on Alcatraz. Strangely, none of the wardens were ever known for their sadistic nature.

The rock is hardly barren now or devoid of life: gulls wheel and cry and fish and nest, eucalyptus trees cast their shade and scent above terraced flower gardens.

Alcatraz did not serve only as a prison, but if you want to find out what it really is, why don't you come and see for yourself?

Attack of da Cane Spidah

One time in Maui I go to the bathroom at night, and as I glance casually toward the door, I see this huge spider on the cabinet under the sink. It's not the biggest spider I've ever seen, but it's in a very small room and it's between me and the door... It's as big as my hand, though its body's not that huge compared to the legs. It's fast, too: scampers under the cabinet when I move. I'm freaked. When I have to go to the bathroom again in the middle of the night, I carefully reach around and turn on the light before going in. All clear. I sit down... and see the spider lurking just outside the range of light, right behind where I was standing. When I leave the room, I leave the light on, this time!

In the morning, I tell my husband. He's got a sheaf of papers rolled up to use as a fly swatter, and he picks it up to demonstrate what he'll do if he sees the big spider: "Swat it--like this!" He whips his wrist down and I scream because a large spider is flying toward me! It was hiding in that very paper roll.

Duck Season

It's that time of year again. Mama Duck had twelve little babies, most of them yellow with brown stripes, some all brown with a yellow chest spot--cute little ducklings following her around, swimming in the water of the bay, leaping onto the floating dock, burrowing under her feathers to sleep at night--for one night, anyway. The next day there were only four ducklings. Later in the day there's only one, a little brown one. And as we watch, three drakes chase the mother around. One of them eventually catches her, mounts her, pushes her head down into the water, while she quacks, seems to be calling for her only duckling.

In Germany, I saw many Mallard families swimming in placid waters: mother, father, and a little chain of ducklings. There's something sinister about this Alcatraz version: rough waters, rocks, deadbeat dads, seagulls and ravens looking well-fed...

The next day there aren't any ducklings. Nature has no sympathy for cute.