Food for thought
I’m at the copying machine at work, chatting with my esteemed colleague, Ann Sterling. Ann’s a great co-worker and a peach of a gal besides. She’s bright, literate and hard-working. Plus she’s got a splendid sense of humor. In other words, she laughs at my jokes. OK, maybe she’s just being polite. But even so, that’s a rare treat in this Golden Age of Rudeness. One of Ann’s areas of expertise is wine. Unfortunately, it’s something I can’t share with her due to what I believe are hereditary reasons: If after 5,768 continuous years, my people (the rather immodestly self-designated “Chosen”) have produced no better plonk than Mogen David and Manischewitz, our efforts are best served in other realms. Luckily, I can relate to Ann’s other discipline — writing. Specifically, she teaches food writing — a far more difficult job than mine. Just think about it — writing on food? Sure, on some foods it’d be a cinch, like watermelons, matzohs and cheese (except, of course, Swiss). A
» Full StoryThe Second Saint Valentine’s Day Massacre
If you’re into making love, not war, my hometown is not the place for you — at least not during this year’s Winter Carnival.
For a short while, it looked like Carnival ’09 was going to be just one big lovefest, but sadly, it won’t hap
The running gospel, according to Paul
Although I run year-round, my favorite running season is fall. I’m not sure why, but I think it’s because that’s when I met Paul Durbin, the best runner I’ve ever known.
By “best,” I don’t mean the fastest — though he was surely faster t
Powder blue blues
It was early May 1964, and my boon companion Ralph Carlson and I were in Wells’s candy store, feasting on malted milk balls washed down by ice-cold RC Colas, when the subject of the prom came up.
“So,” said Ralph, “you goin’ to it?”
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A watch to watch (out) for
For most people, buying a watch is no biggie. They go in a store, take a look and then buy either one watch or another.
After that, life with their watch is just a series of putting it on, taking it off, and in the interim, checking the
Excess baggage
I spent almost all my time in the Navy at a small communications post…on an army base…in northern Germany…away from ships of any kind. And as odd as that sounds, it was no odder than anything else about my military career.
Anyhow, in


