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"
Ever walk into a Grateful Dead-related show, take a scan of the crowd before you, and think, “What the hell are these people searching for?” There’s that dude who looks like he’s been in a weed haze since ’67, the glow stick twirler and gypsy mom doing a ceremonial dance for nobody, or the drifting […]Read more "In Defense of Dead Heads"
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"