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Articles by Mary York

There is a star rising out of East County and she is redefining the hustle.

A regular at House of Blues, Pizza de la Familia in Little Italy and Belmont Park’s family nights, 16-year-old Mt. Helix resident Marissa Grace McRoberts is part of the county’s budding local music scene.

Known by her stage name, Marissa Grace, the singer-songwriter is a sophomore at Academy of Our Lady of Peace where Grace rocks a 4.17 GPA. She plays soccer as well, but her biggest score this year has been dropping her first EP on iTunes and Spotify.

After 33 years in prison, Joe Tapia said what he really wanted was to get back to work.

Finding work can be difficult with a criminal background, especially when you have the tattoos to prove it, but even harder is finding work three decades after receiving any relevant work experience.

A book by a Los Angeles-based Rev. Gregory Boyle and a Santee-based start-up were about to make a huge difference in Tapia’s chances.

In an unsurprising turn of events, the nation was split down the middle last week as U.S. circuit judge Brett Kavanaugh was questioned during a Senate hearing following accusations of sexual assault.

“I love breakfasts,” my grandma said wistfully as we sat at the River’s Edge Cafe & Bar on the Admiral Baker Golf Course this week.

I usually sleep through breakfast, to be honest. That could be because I pull pretty late hours in my line of work and given the choice to eat or sleep, I would rather sleep. Or it could simply be because my stomach does not wake up till after 11 a.m., but we found ourselves, nonetheless, drinking coffee and looking out over the foggy golf course at eight o’clock in the morning.

It took me a while to develop a taste for wine.

It was not something often found in my home growing up and my only exposure to it was limited to family reunions every other summer.

Wine seemed bitter to me as a child, sharp and cruel and oppressively potent. Why would anyone want wine when there were sweet, bubbly sodas and juices to be had (also not often found at my home in the absence of a special occasion)?

In Europe, where I lived and taught for two years, wine became harder to avoid, mostly because in many cases, alcohol was cheaper than water.

Every year, the Rea Arts District comes alive for the Alley Cats Art Walk, a festival celebrating local artistry and the talented hands that bring it to life.

The highlight of the evening-long affair is undoubtedly St. Madeleine Sophie’s Center, which showcases the work of their students, adults with developmental disabilities. The Center gave out pastries, cheese and wine for visitors who came through to admire the sculpting, jewelry and art of the amature artists.

Lakeside has a winery.

The news may come as a surprise to some, but in the year since Trevi Hills Winery opened its tasting room, a steady core of devout followers has developed and sommelier Michael Larrañaga said this promises to be just the beginning.

“The community has been waiting for six years for this to open,” he said. “When I opened, I did not publicize, I just opened the door, and slowly one or two heads would pop in and they went back and told everyone and next thing I knew, I was flooded with all the neighbors.”

Chances are, even if you did not know who Serena Williams was before this weekend, you do now.

The phenomenal athlete made headlines and social media trending topics, not for her achievements at the U.S. Open, but rather, for her “big mood” as some have called it.

A preliminary hearing has been set for Sept. 14 at San Diego Central Courthouse in the lawsuit against the backcountry housing projects in line for approval by the San Diego County Board of Supervisors to hear initial complaints regarding environmental and other concerns surrounding the project.

Taiga Takahashi, an attorney with Latham & Watkins, said their lawsuit, and one by the Sierra Club to be heard the same day, is meant to check the pace of the Newland Sierra project to make sure all environmental concerns are being met.

I was rolling a number two pencil between the rivets in our tiled kitchen counter when the World Trade Centers went down. I was nine years old.

Still in pajamas, I barely understood what was going on, but I registered the anxiety in my dad’s voice when he burst through the kitchen door, having only just left for work minutes earlier, telling mom to turn the radio on. It was already blaring the devastating news.