Point of No Return
I woke up the other night staring straight into the face of a pug.
When word starting circulating on Tuesday that NFL quarterback Brett Favre was on an airplane heading from Mississippi to Minnesota, there was a collective groan from sports writers across these fruited plains.
There are so many things to enjoy over at the Senior League Softball World Series in Roxana this week.
And with that short but sweet command, girls from around the world will set forth on a shared quest to claim the title of “world champion.”
As a child, there were a few objects that all I had to do was see them and I would get excited.
I confess. I’m one of those people who gets easily frustrated in the summer.
It ain’t easy being an invertebrate these days.
So, anyway, it’s been hot.
There’s just something magical about the word “Independence.”
A history professor at my beloved Temple University once told me that the best thing about history is that it never gets old, because it’s being made every day.
Father’s Day is, obviously enough, a day to celebrate fathers. We thank them for the sacrifices they’ve made, and generally make an effort to express our thanks to the men who reared us. We do it through cards, or brunch or a new hunting rifle, or whatever the most appropriate display of acknowledgement might be for each individual relationship.
We all have our own kryptonites.
NFL owners voted on Tuesday to hold the 2014 Super Bowl in the new $1.6 billion Meadowlands Stadium that will regularly play host to the New York Giants and Jets. The vote has created a fairly large amount of controversy, as this will be the first time the league’s biggest event will be played in a cold-weather site that does not have a dome.
A conversation came up the other night that seemed harmless enough at the time, but has been bouncing around my brain quite a bit ever since.
I’m an admitted people-watcher.
My mom is cooler than yours.
Do you remember those sleepless nights as a youth? The calendar would flip to November, and you just knew Christmas was right around the corner. You would begin formulating the perfect list in your mind, going over it again and again until you felt like you hit the perfect balance — enough items to make it a holiday to remember forever, but not so much as to look greedy and run the risk of irritating Santa.
It’s been said by many who know me that I sometimes talk out of my backside. Normally, I get that comment during poker games, when the common perception amongst those who play with me often is that if I’m giving away anything about my hand, it’s no doubt false.
According to various reports, the U.S. Army will court-martial a military doctor because he refused to deploy to Afghanistan. Conscientious observer? Nope. Dying kid at home? Wrong again.
Let’s be honest. Life’s tough.
I’m a big believer in honoring one’s culture. I cling tightly to my family’s Irish heritage, and enjoy hearing and learning from others who are also fascinated by their roots. Shaun Lambert, for instance, can make my eyes roll back into my head when he starts talking about the hours he spends on role-playing games on his computer, but he always has my attention when he’s talking about his Inuit Eskimo heritage. It fascinates me to hear these stories, and I get a kick out of hearing the excitement and pride in his voice when he gets on a roll.
I’m searching for an old friend.
Has there ever been a spring as widely anticipated by this area as this one?
There’s tough, and then there’s “Kentucky tough.”
There are moments in life when all seems right in the world. I remember feeling that way when the American hockey team scored a shocking goal with seconds left in regulation during their gold medal hockey game against Canada last Sunday.
I remember exactly where I was when my head nearly exploded.
We’ve done a few things very well in this nation.
I apologize in advance, but I’m not letting go of this one without a fight.
Well, it looks like I picked the right time to go on vacation.
People make mistakes. We’re flawed. It’s what we do.