Still booked as best friends decades later

October 29, 2017

I ran into some old friends recently — Frank and Joe Hardy, Chet Morton and Aunt Gertrude. They hadn’t changed a bit. Oh, a bit of dust laced the bindings and the pages seemed a tad yellow around the edges, but the Hardy Boys jumped off the action-packed pages just like they did when I met them nearly 50 years ago. I, on the other hand, am a foot or two larger these days. I’m also taller. Hair has sprouted off my chin and turned snowy white. I’ve also developed lines and wrinkles, creaks and groans, huffs and puffs, and a bit of dust around the bindings and a tad of yellow ...

Nostalgia for a simpler time he never knew

October 22, 2017

Lately, I’ve been tuning into 1940s swing, jazz and big bands on my drive home from work. More and more, I find myself retreating into an era I never knew and breathing deeply of the fresh air. I work at a daily newspaper where — follow me closely now — I am bombarded by news. It never stops. Wire stories flow onto my desktop 24 hours a day. TVs mounted to the walls deluge me with on-the-scene video of every crisis and crybaby. Phone calls, emails, news releases, emergency services radio and tattletales swirl with misery, woe, sniping, backbiting and name-calling. The average ...

Wrap your tangled tongue around this doozy of a dotage

October 15, 2017

I wrapped my wife into one last hug before she climbed into the car. I stood in the parking and we waved at each other until she turned into the street and disappeared from view. I sighed, turned and shuffled back toward the office. A co-worker giggled. “You and Terry are so cute together, the way you two dote on each other.” At home that night, I kissed Terry hello before breaking the bad news: “Amy says we’re in our dotage.” “So soon?” I dropped into my chair. “Yeah. She says we dote on each other.” Terry smiled. “Ah, that we do.” “I didn’t think I was ...

You say potato, I say gooey, delicious mess

October 8, 2017

I opened my lunch bag and made a horrible discovery. It was awful. Tragic. I snatched up my phone and called my wife at home. “Somebody stole my barbecue pork! My barbecue pork is missing!” Terry made those soothing, clucking sounds a wife makes when she fails to grasp the enormity of the crisis just documented by her husband. “I didn’t pack the barbecue pork. You have turkey.” “You what?” I couldn’t believe this woman. Wasn’t she the same lady who during a wedding ceremony vowed her honor, respect and devotion? Did she not take those marital promises seriously? I ...

Drop that bowl; it’s not party time for this guy

October 1, 2017

Editor’s Note: Cole somehow escaped for vacation. While he recovers, we offer this updated Cole Classic originally published Oct. 15, 2000. She asked me with a straight face: “Will you host a candle party for me?” Why this overly optimistic friend of mine even considered that a possibility without proper FEMA and EPA permits is beyond me. Guys do NOT host candle parties — or home decorating parties or plastic kitchenware parties or any other homeware sales party. OK, so I heard of a couple guys who hosted a Tupperware party back in college. I also understand that the ...

Not really summer, but not autumn either

September 24, 2017

No wonder September is confused. It’s all mixed up. According to my high school Latin class, “September” comes from the root word “septem,” which translates to “seven.” That made sense under the old 10-month Roman calendar, when September was the seventh month. Then some pesky calendar reformers — Julian and Gregorian — jammed January and February into the top of the year. That pushed September (seven) to the ninth month, so logic dictated that it be renamed November. “Novem” means “nine.” But that name was already taken by the month wedged between the ...