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Daniel Hinerfeld's Blog

About

Bio:

I came to NRDC from NPR, where I was a senior editor and producer. A close friend there said the reason for my move to NRDC was obvious: “they have more initials.” While at NPR, I helped launch both The Tavis Smiley Show and Day to Day. Before that, I worked for California’s two big NPR stations, KCRW and KQED as a reporter and producer. Between public radio stints, I spent four years as a press and public safety deputy to a Los Angeles City Council member working on gun control, police corruption and creating a 311 city service phone system to take pressure off the 911 system. My wife, Laura Kleinhenz, and I live in Mar Vista with our amazing baby girl, Willa Belle, and our 12-year-old Weimaraner, Dory Ann Grey. Laura is a photojournalist, and runs a photography business, Docuvitae, out of a small studio in the backyard.

Roots in:
Dogtown, USA
Favorite place:
Big Sur or anywhere Willa and Laura happen to be.
Why "environmentalism" matters:
Drained Lake, Heron in Mud by Eamon Grennan When I saw the heron standing up to its spindleshins in mud where the lake's deep water yesterday caught the light and cracked it into a scatter of small flames, each fragment of fractured mirror gripping a coloured shard of sky or leaf or the glancing glimpse of a wing flapping over (taupe for a goose, stony bluegrey a heron, various shades of white the gulls), when I saw this statued heron, light burning its beak to an aluminum triangle, a tapered hammerhead of glass, it could have been the sign I was searching for: a solitary creature dealing with this unsettled set of fresh conditions, not stuck in the mud but surrounded by it, trying to draw something to live by from it, some surprise live morsel that would make survival possible. So I walked the bank and looked at it from every angle, hoping to winkle a hint or two to help shed any ray of light on things. But it just stood hunched, ruffling once, twice, its shoulder feathers, the gleam of its beak flashing back unreadable semaphore. I imagined its keen eyes' amber, their fixed gaze, and that it was not at ease, but patient.

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