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Burton Cole column

Revisiting bygones with cake in my face

I was a twig-sized seventh-grader at Rowe Junior High School — the puniest of ranks in the strangest and most emotionally unstable three years of a human being’s “wonder years.” I sat at a table with my loud and obnoxious friends in an echo chamber of a lunchroom full of loud and obnoxious strange and emotionally unstable pre- and newly minted teens. As I lifted a hunk of Mom’s chocolate cake to my mouth — because, why waste time using a fork — one of the big kids, a blond-headed ninth-grader in a jean jacket, and his buddies passed our table. The big kid casually ...

In a pig’s eye, I understand what you said

I mopped my brow with the bottom of my T-shirt. “I am sweating like a pig.” “Nope.” Cousin Ollie shook his head. “Pigs don’t sweat.” “Then how come we say ‘sweating like a pig’?” “WE don’t. YOU do. Real farm kids know better.” I sighed. “My mom says my room looks like a pig pen. Why are pigs so dirty?” “They’re not, doofus. Pigs are clean critters. They’re almost as clean as cats, if you want to let that cat out of the bag.” “Why was the cat in the bag?” “Who knows why cats do anything? Or why grownups say weird things like ...

Burt’s Eye View: I just had a thought. Now, what was it?

Writing a column every week is hard. Not the writing so much. It’s the coming up with topics week after week that taxes the nooks and crannies of my cerebrum, cerebellum and Cocoa Wheats. That’s why I keep a file of random thoughts and observations — to goose the gerbils in my brain to germinating ideas. Let’s take a gander at a few of these eggs. • Maybe eating a doughnut wasn’t cheating on my diet. Maybe going on a diet was cheating on my doughnut. • When I was a toddler, I didn’t care about things like what to wear. My parents dressed me. Looking back on some of ...

Some football, Phil and fondue: Welcome, February

As I rooted around for inspirational quotes about February, I came across this ridiculousness: “February: Our last chance to NOT play in the snow.” Whichever great philosopher came up with that piece of faux wisdom obviously isn’t from northeast Ohio! We can NOT play in the snow all the way through April. Sometimes even May. NOT playing in the snow, especially with a shovel, is among my favorite activities in life. I used to play in the snow many years ago. I gave it up for old age. Or maybe old age crept up on me when I stopped playing in the snow. All I know is a chair, a ...

Company is coming! Let’s get to ridding!

I stacked tonight’s dirty dishes on top of last night’s still littering the sink. My kicked my balled-up coat further into the corner against the closet door — the coat closet door. I haven’t coaxed the vacuum cleaner to life since… let’s not get into that. I don’t know if my calendar stretches back that far. As I survey my apartment, I know that it’s time. Action must be taken. It’s time. I’m going to invite company over. I don’t know what it’s like where you live, but “Company’s coming!” was the battle cry that always preceded “ridding up” places ...

Snow days sure aren’t what they used to be

Snow and ice shut down roads, county offices and Taco Bell. The dire predictions of snow and ice piled up much higher than the actual snow and ice, but still, it was sufficient to keep us tucked away in our homes. I used to dream about days like this when I was a kid. Growing up in the snowbelt, we’d get blasted with enough white stuff to close the schools because it was too dangerous for kids to be outside. We whooped and hollered and ran around the house until Mom slammed coats, boots, gloves and hats into our chests, and chased us outside. Then we rode sleds off the chicken coop ...