It seems to me that the best experiences in life come at a cost. As uber-rare, stomach churning, temple-throbbing, cold and clammy, cotton-mouthed, bloodshot and dizzy hangovers go, then, Sunday’s was well worth it. Imagine… A dull gray morning yields to a...
I’m pretty sure it’s the oldest thing I own: a tattered, No. 80, nine-inch, horsehide-covered, cork and rubber-centered regulation baseball with with seven faded words written in capital letters: 1981 Pinto North All-Star Ben Wagner. I hit the first RBI in...
For months, I’d been trying to get my Rockwood Music Hall pals together in an amplifier-free environment. It’s not that I don’t like amplifiers. My recent bout with tinnitus notwithstanding, there are few places I’d rather be than standing...
It’s a recipe for disaster: a five and three-year-old boys, plastic railroad tracks, a wind-up diesel engine, and two fists full of chocolate eggs. Hollywood blockbuster and dime store novel alike are rife with the plot line. Aunt, uncles, grandparents, nieces...
Can you imagine New York’s $44M, 66-year-old gray behemoth, USS Intrepid, through my pint-sized, toe-headed nephews’ wide eyes? This thing’s 900-feet-long and 190-feet-wide and loaded with thirty aircraft, including a Navy F-14 Tomcat (as in,...
