That was the year that was,” sang Tom Lehrer—a line that reads now as less a lyric than a bleak assessment of the times.
Lehrer, who died in 2025, made a career out of cheerful unease: songs that smiled while pointing out the machinery behind the mess. He serves as a useful guide for reviewing a year in Marin County, a place where ideals are sincerely held, serenely expressed and repeatedly tested by events.
The Pacific Sun’s 2025 reflects a year shaped by friction—between aspiration and implementation, calm surfaces and hard outcomes, identity and governance. The calendar turned, as it always does, with renewal on the agenda.
January began with ritual and symbolism. The paper’s look at the Lunar New Year, specifically the arrival of the Year of the Snake, framed transformation as agility and awareness, an emphasis on reading conditions and adjusting accordingly. In hindsight, the piece functioned as an overture. The year would reward flexibility.
That same month, the Point Reyes National Seashore ranching decision arrived with the weight of accumulated history. “Given, Then Taken” traced the end of most ranching at the seashore, detailing how environmental policy intersected with generational livelihoods. The outcome unfolded through federal process, not sentiment, leaving a landscape that appeared unchanged while its human story shifted decisively.
February brought governance into sharper relief. Novato’s move to close a homeless encampment, followed closely by the prospect of litigation, exposed the gap between intention and execution. Compassion, legality and municipal anxiety occupied the same space, without resolving into harmony. Policy ceased to be abstract and became procedural, which, in its way, was also a tragic commentary on the state of humanity.
By April, the paperwork took center stage. “Dereliction of Duty” examined how Novato officials disregarded county guidance on homelessness, placing responsibility squarely within the machinery of local government. And sadly, a crash on April 18 occurred, grievously injuring a teen driver and costing the lives of four of her friends.
May turned the focus inward. “Misbehavin’ Marin” cataloged neighbor-to-neighbor disputes with the precision of a case file, revealing how much of Marin’s conflict plays out at conversational distance. That same month, the Mountain Play announced a pause in its regular season, choosing a benefit musical over tradition. The decision reflected institutional self-awareness and an understanding of limits.
Summer offered some reprieve. At Sweetwater Music Hall, the return of Hot Licks reaffirmed the power of persistence. In short, the band played on without their founder and leader, Dan Hicks. The room filled, and people sang along; it almost seemed like the old days.
September likewise briefly brought a sense of re-alignment. “Sun Day” translated climate concern into practical participation—tours, conversations, gatherings—demonstrating what action looked like when scaled within the scope of a community rather than a daunting, doomful abstraction.
October ended the autumnal season with Marin County District Attorney Lori Frugoli filing a misdemeanor vehicular manslaughter charge against the 17-year-old driver from the aforementioned car accident that resulted in the death of the four teens in April.
Taken together, the Pacific Sun’s coverage of 2025 underscores a consequential year in Marin County and the ways our community has endeavored to move forward in its wake.
