"You have that glazed look, sonny boy," he began. "Are you trying to find something to write about?"

I had to admit he was right; the deadline was upon me and I was fresh out of topics.

"What about that idea of yours a while back, the Five-Year Plan you called it? You were going to look back to see what you wrote about five years ago and see what the current state is of those topics."

"You're right," I said. "I'll do it. I'll go into my trance now and conjure up some of the topics I wrote about in 1998."

"Forget about the trance," said Sam. "You spend too much time in one now. Check your files."

So I did. In 1998 I wrote a couple of columns about one of my favorite topics, the etymology of the name "Saratoga." I cited the reference to the name in Florence Cunningham's book, Saratoga's First Hundred Years, in which she quoted "an official publication of New York State" to the effect that the name was derived from an Iroquois Indian word, "se-rach-to-que," meaning "floating scum on the water."

This had to do with the fact that our Saratoga was named for Saratoga Springs, N.Y., where one of the mineral water sources there, Congress Springs, had the same chemical content as springs a short distance up the canyon here. So this became Pacific Congress Springs and the nearby town ultimately was named Saratoga.

The Iroquois "floating scum" reference obviously had to do with the kind of mineral film that appears on water in this kind of spring. The word "scum" used in the translation was unfortunate. For one thing, our mayor in 1998, Don Wolfe, launched a personal crusade to try to disprove this interpretation. He wrote to people in Saratoga Springs, N.Y., and got their version that the word means "hillside country of the great river, place of the swift water."

I never could go along with this, one reason being that, since Native American tongues embodied no written language, there was plenty of room for different interpretations. I stuck by, and still do, the "floating scum" translation. I urged this view on my inner voice.

"Sam," I said, "I'd like to legitimize the 'floating scum' reference and disassociate it from its filthy connotation. Emphasize the mineral concept. How about having the high school call their water polo teams the Floating Scum? It's a name that resonates with historical significance and the kids would probably go for it."

"It's also a name that resonates with implications of libel," said Sam. "As I have said many times before, it's towel-tossing time. Pack it in. Give the readers a break."

So much for Sam, I thought. But there also were some 1998 columns about the eucalyptus tree on the playground at Saratoga Elementary School on Oak Street. The tree was to be cut down for reasons that a lot of people disputed. Tradition dies hard, even with a eucalyptus tree.

But that tradition did not die with the tree. In its place there was created a stunning arboreal plot called the Heritage Grove. There are redwood trees that, before too many years, will be towering monuments to the industry that gave Saratoga its start. There are "turtle rocks" where children can leap and play, as well as a lawn area for games.

This matchless facility was dedicated at a lovely ceremony, with poetry written for the occasion by Loren Helbush, and music on Nov. 25. In my book, it's very Saratoga.