After two days of non-stop politics I was extra fired up to watch the AFC and NFC championship games Sunday.
But a little before the first game started, I had a visitor. It was that same nasty guy who’d been dropping in on various friends, family and colleagues last week. You know, the guy who has everyone running to the bathroom, their butts on the toilet seats and faces in a garbage pail. I like to call him Flu Diamond Phillips, but maybe you know him as Flu Reed or Captain Flu Albano?
Watching the Stony Brook men’s basketball team fall behind by double digits early in the second half of the America East championship game Saturday, I felt something I haven’t experienced during a college basketball game in quite some time: a gut punch. READ
My mornings start the same way each day.
Thump. Thump. Mama. Dada. Mama. Dada. (Repeat, repeat, repeat …)
This happens sometime between 4:45 and 6:45 a.m., pretty much without fail. READ
As a young boy, it was hard for me to imagine that not everyone grew up with a big lake down the street. And then I met Dale.
Growing up a sports nut who lived up the block from a lake, I spent my childhood outdoors.
As soon as the weather got warm enough, I was running as fast as I could, splashing my way into Lake Panamoka.
To live on a street where hardly any cars passed, on a property big enough to hold a sandbox and a swingset, I took a lot of my childhood freedom for granted. I was living the middle class dream — my father working at a local newspaper and my mom teaching in my school — a lot of kids would have given anything for.
And I had no idea. (more…)