Ken

There is a fine line between a merry heart which is like a continual feast and folly which is like scratching your fingernails on a chalkboard. Part of growing into manhood is discerning that subtle difference.
[Read more…] about Misplaced Humor

When I was about sixteen Niles Eikenberry hired me to work in his grocery store. My job was the clean the meat department every night. It was important that I did my job well. If the meat department was not perfectly clean people could become very sick. It was hard work back there and lonely. I worked back all night every night. It was monotonous work and there was no one to talk to. I didn’t do well. I should have but I just didn’t.
[Read more…] about Niles Eikenberry

In the seventies the Cincinnati Reds were playing in massive Riverfront Stadium and they were in their glory. They were known as the Big Red Machine and they were a pennant-producing powerhouse. Summer nights I lay in my bed and listened to the heroics of Johnny Bench, Pete Rose, Dave Concepcion, George Foster, Ken Griffey, Joe Morgan, Cesar Cedanio, Don Gullett and company on my little radio. It was lined with leather with a little leather strap across the top and a silver metal face. It was a neat little radio. I set the radio on my headboard, enamored as my Grandpa Shipley always was by electronic gizmos. If the Reds were on the west coast I often fell asleep before I knew the outcome of the game.
[Read more…] about Pedro Borbon

On a Friday night before the Ludington Lakestride Half-Marathon we were eating a pre-race meal with the family in a little Italian Restaurant. During our dinner we were talking about my friend Dan, who is a Marathoner. He ran the Boston Marathon this year. He is very, very quick.
[Read more…] about You Have to Do the Miles