Jamie called me this weekend. I have known her for about thirty years. She has a few weeks left to live. She carries the heavy load of 140 pounds of tumors in her body. Despite high doses of sleep aids, she can only sleep but an hour
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Hi folks With the upcoming concerts I am beginning to vocalize in earnest—first drill, right before breakfast. Granted it’s not always the prettiest sound at such hours, but Link seems to take greater exception than is warranted (then again I could be wrong) His brother Bodhi defends
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Class of 16 – To teach is to do nothing more than to share whatever knowledge and experience we gather through the years. The more eager the observer or listener, the better the teacher—and how the hours flew by. My thanks to all from the Art of
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I had grown a little weary of weepy, romantic songs that treated conflict, war and tragedy with an ‘if-only-we-could-just-get-along’ kind of sentiment—brushing over genuine struggle as if the writer or singer could wave a magic wand and establish world peace with the mere stroke of the pen
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Between Joe, Pasquale and me, we had exactly five dollars left in the piggy—enough for one day’s motel payment, due that day, two days before Christmas. The fifty dollars my mom sent via Western Union went to Hollywood Florida by mistake. “Nothin’ doin’, other than panhandling on
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“Out! I want you out!” screamed Connie Manzo, teacher and head coach of St Rita’s Tigers, my grade-school baseball team. “Why?” I demanded to know, as I approached the team bench all puckered and pouty. “Be-cause-you-day-dream, out there. What is my outfielder doing lying on his back,
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