Players assemble. Sides are chosen. Game on. Once upon a time we played sand-lot softball behind the schoolhouse gym on Sunday afternoons. The Olympic stadium it was not. Bases could be anything—rocks, tin cans, sticks. The pitcher’s mound was flat and there were no referees. Who needed referees, we handled our own calls? The playing …
Count them. You have ten. What are you doing with them? * * * Last Saturday was brutally cold on the beach. Hypothermia stalked walkers. Why, later in the day it was possible to find fingers littering the beach, fingers that had frozen and fallen off like the last vestiges of a once fiery but …
Hope is needed for the new year, but it begins as a wadded-up mess. This past week consisted of name-calling, finger pointing and character assassinations over the demise of democracy. Where? Why, in the hallowed halls of higher power where the clown charade performs. Business as usual there. Confusion reigns. Can Hope live again? The …
Let come what comes, let go what goes. See what remains. * * * Here we go again, a new year, a new beginning. Whoopee. Give this baby a good spank, get it breathing, screaming, wild for life. Then hug it, kiss it, embrace it. It’s ours now. What will we do with it? Say …
10-9…Whoa, slow down, relax. You’re getting ahead of yourself. It’s not time. It’s coming, soon enough. Meanwhile, It’s still shuffling the deck, more hands to deal. The 2021 year’s game is still in play. We shouted it in, but it soon settled down, And got down to business and stayed. But now it’s time …
It’s 3:00, Christmas Eve. He sits silently at his desk. The office party cheer evaporates. A faint scent of wine lingers. The empty office echoes the hum of his computer. Masks litter the floor. He checks his shopping list, a white sheet filled with names. So many names, no gifts. He taps it with his …
Santa is in trouble. The news sets off seismic shockwaves that shake the South like a second coming of Sherman. * * * Outside the glaciers melt. Solar panels explode. The UV hits 50. His herd of reindeer lounge in the sun, lazy, listless and as overserved as a NJ diva on a divan on …
Out of the many moods of Christmas, which one will jump-start us into the spirit of the season? I might have found mine. * * * It’s difficult trying to gin up any enthusiasm remotely acceptable for a Christmas mood. It has to happen on its own. The frenetic crush of mosh-pits crowds on Black …
The keyboard is a loose cannon…everything is fair game. * * * It begins as one of those days when the air feels electric, and you want to jump out of your skin. You can’t put your finger on it, but you know something’s brewing. I hear him before I see him, Ace Blackbanks. “You …
This is a touchy subject. I’m approaching it with much circumspection as if it were a coiled rattlesnake lying in the path. Head-on encounters are not encouraged. We’ve all played the fool. Admit it. We all have the tattoo of having once been a fool. It’s indelible. The wound still stings, even if it’s now …