A few years ago I stuck a peace sign on the back of my car. It was uncharacteristic of me. I’m not a bumper-sticker guy.
The sign in the tavern, which abutted a motel, intrigued me so much that I stole it.
In the autumn of 2006, I finished riding the 477,714-mile distance from Earth to the moon and back. On a bicycle.
As a nurse wheeled my gurney into the glaring light of the operating room, it dawned on me that I might be gathering the last memories of my mortal life.
I am picking up sand-covered toys that the children played with all summer. Many are broken, some are faded by the sun, others missing some crucial attachment that holds water for blasting a sibling.
Well, I got rid of my clunker the other day, and now I’m suffering buyer’s remorse. And I’ll tell you why.
An important part of parenting is brainwashing our children, otherwise known as instilling in our children the appropriate level of devotion to the correct teams (Notre Dame, University of Maine, Green Bay Packers, New England Patriots, Boston Red Sox and Chicago Cubs).
Anyone with any interest in college football has either watched or heard about some miracle comeback by some Notre Dame football team at one time or another. It is part of the mystique of the institution and the lore of American sports.
The day had started early at the Charles River Square townhouse, which was then the Boston home of U.S. Sen. Edward M. Kennedy.