Alfred, Lord Tennyson once opined, “In the spring, a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.” Burton, Columnist Cole’s Corollary asserts, “At Christmastime, an old man’s fancy heavily turns to thoughts of lost toys.” It’s true. Every year, I sort through the ...
I swooned when I heard her say those three little words: “You’re thinning out.” My buttons fairly burst — and this time not at stomach level. “Since I quit guzzling Coca-Cola and laid off downing a dozen chocolate chip cookies for breakfast, I’m down several notches on my belt size.” “Oh, that too,” my wife said. I scratched my head. “Isn’t that what you meant? That my stomach is svelter?” “I was talking about your hair,” she said. “It’s thinning out.” I nodded. “Yeah, that ol’ dark brown of my 20s sure has thinned out to a washed-out ...
Christmas is the most action-packed time of the year. December is the only month that I’m permitted to handle real tools. True, the tool is only a handsaw. Even at Christmastime, I am forbidden power tools. My sweetie fears she’d lose too much decorating time driving me to the emergency ...
My ambition as an 8-year-old boy was to become a spy. The TV lineups in the 1960s brimmed with spy shows. My course of study included “Mission:Impossible,” “The Man from U.N.C.L.E.” and “I Spy.” Unfortunately, my greatest inspirations were Maxwell Smart, Secret Agent 86 of CONTROL, and Lancelot Link, Secret Chimp. Would you believe that modeling one’s aspirations on a buffoon and an ape doesn’t always work out well? But now, I have a chance to relive my childhood dreams, thanks to the annual Neiman Marcus Fantasy Gifts catalog. All I need is $315,000 and I’m good ...
Somehow, Terry tricked me into going shopping with her. I’m sure a candy store was mentioned, but we never got to one. “Let me drive,” I said. “I know where the candy store’s at.” “The last time I let you drive, we ended up at the zoo.” I smiled. “Yeah. I know.” “We ...
I don’t know many Thanksgiving carols. For that blessing, anyone within listening distance can be grateful. Or maybe they wish I knew different turkey songs. Only one comes to mind, and it jiggles around my brain like a glob of cranberry sauce: “A turkey sat on the backyard fence / and ...
