Pooh had it easy.
When he got hungry, he set his sights on the nearest honey pot. I’m not so easily satisfied, particularly on the road, always prowling for THE MEAL, one that becomes symbolic of the trip itself. It borders on OCD and bothers my family to no end, particularly my youngest, who would choose Chili’s-any place, any time. Continue reading
Dickens and Christmas are inextricably linked. But I don’t think of Bob Cratchit, Scrooge and Tiny Tim. It’s Oliver Twist who comes to mind during December. The Radio City Christmas Spectacular used to show feature films following the Rockettes’ March of the Wooden Soldiers and Living Nativity. I have yet to confirm with Mom and Dad, but I think that’s where I saw the British film “Oliver!“, so the holiday and soundtrack are permanently merged for me.
The Radio City Rockettes perform the March of the Wooden Soldier at the Christmas Spectacular in Radio City Music Hall (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
“Almost all U.S. airports are utterly barren of things to do. The dirty little lunch counters are always choked with permanent sitters staring at their indigestible food. . . The traveler consigned to hours of tedious waiting can only clear a spot on the floor and sit on his baggage and, while oversmoking, drearily contemplate his sins.”
Airport conditions haven’t changed much since this article was published in Fortune in 1946. Except for the smoking. Now smokers are confined to those glass rooms, a human terrarium. I always feel a bit sorry for them, especially when kids stare and point, like they’re caged zoo animals. Continue reading
The upcoming release of the flick “Looper” has sparked conversations about the possibility of time travel. Physicists discount the notion – something about the improbability of quarks, black holes and sun spots occurring simultaneously to produce the necessary quantum vector spatial shift.
Scientific mumbo jumbo. Time travel’s as simple as queuing up “California Dreamin’” on Spotify. WHOOSH!! I’m back in Colgate University’s pub, creatively named The Pub. The jukebox is pumping out the Mamas and Papas (it was stocked with music in 1965 and no one ever updated the selections), and I’m downing a quarter draft, waiting for the presidential debate between Dukakis and Bush Sr. Continue reading
Philadelphia’s recent marketing campaign is crafted to combat its reputation as the poor red-headed stepcousin of every other American city.
“Eat me” would have worked too. Continue reading
“Country auction tomorrow night. Interested?” The text was a simple invitation from my sister-in-law Lynn. Interested? She had me at country.
There was simply no time to react. The wind inflated our umbrella like a randy gust blowing up a lady’s skirt. The table pitched, launching our meals and I felt uncomfortably like Wile E. Coyote when he realizes the Road Runner’s releasing the anvil…again. Continue reading
