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“ISN’T IT GRAND, BOYS…”
In a recent essay, I commented on the Irish propensity for attempting to find humor in every untoward situation, including death. In the case of the demise of a loved one, there is a bawdy Irish song whose lyrics go like this: “Look at the coffin, with its bloody gold handles, Isn’t it grand, boys,…
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THE AMERICAN ARMY: AN EXERCISE IN TREACHERY
This essay is being written during the first week in March, 2007. I am assuming that by this time every American knows about the scandal at the Walter Reed medical facilities in Washington. The commanding general of the hospital, as well as his successor, and the Secretary of the Army have been relieved of their…
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“IT DON’T MEAN I DON’T”
It has been 71 years and three months since I last saw Miss Maxwell, my eighth grade teacher. That period has passed with little lament from your old essayist. For most of the boys in Miss Maxwell’s eighth grade class, I think it would be fair to say that if the lamentable and regrettable period…
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TALL TALES AND STORY TELLING
The restaurant that my wife and I patronize almost exclusively is called Basilico, which of course is the Italian word for basil. Basilico was founded by two Italian immigrants who came here from Imperia, Italy in the mid 1980s. They worked for another Italian until they could establish their own place which has now gone…
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FOUL TIPS
In a recent essay entitled “Passed Balls and Wild Pitches,” I recorded three incidents that were really gaffs that have marked my life in recent years. In this essay I will continue the baseball metaphors by using the title of “Foul Tips.” Passed balls and wild pitches ordinarily have an impact on the outcome of…
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PASSED BALLS AND WILD PITCHES
When anyone has lived as long as I have, it would be foolish to claim that there have not been some mistakes along the way. The Great Decider may differ with that conclusion, but he is busy trying to extricate the United States from the mess he has created in Iraq. These are some of…
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MAKING FRIENDS
Making friends has always come easily to me. I find that a handshake and calling the other person by his name tends to open the door to new friendships. Showing an interest in what the other person is doing or where he has lived tends to promote that friendship. My father did not have that…
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ON BECOMING ENSNARLED IN ONE’S OWN JOCKSTRAP
The title of this essay is perhaps misleading in that only a small portion of it has to do with athletic supporters. Primarily it has to do with the stupidity of the federal government and the great state of New Jersey in demanding that every automotive driver have a photograph on his driver’s license. This…