There’s something about baseball that suspends time. Whole lifetimes seem to freeze between pitches. And I’m not talking about boredom. Maybe there’s a warm summer rain falling, or you’re being lulled into the cosmic wonder of baseball from the radio while sitting on a front porch. It’s a very reflective, meditative sport. When I look […]Read more "The Last Summer of Baseball"
I live in New Britain, Connecticut, a city that is constantly haunted by its past. The reminders are in the empty retail stores and on the faces of a lot of people. Years ago, before factory jobs were exiled overseas and poverty took over, downtown had a venerable atmosphere, with opulent hotels and grand movies […]Read more "One Story I Didn’t Get To Write"