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…)