A newspaper column like this is a relentless animal.
My favorite writer is E.B. White.
It’s not arrogance or denial to say that we boomers really ARE different from our parents.
Autumn arrived at 9:54 p.m. Saturday.
This is the week that the columnist’s dad was involved in a fatal automobile accident in 1957.
As years go, 1968 was a beauty.
Six of the seven days of the Buseks’ “staycation” were spent enjoying Lake Erie.
They were not deterred by heat and humidity or “red tide” problem on Florida’s Gulf Coast beaches.
Even as kids, we knew it was a cool bridge.
Wakeman Firefighters’s Homecoming Festival 5K event brings back memories.
“All of us in there have had something happen that caused us to stop taking our amazing hearts for granted.”
He made a point of passing through Waldo — at absolute high noon.
It would be easy just to blame that construction on Old State Road for my troubles.
Identifying the seasons by things you see at a park is not as exciting as, say, mind reading, but, as you can probably tell, for me it is a simple local pleasure.