There are few events in your life where you remember EVERYTHING. One of those rare times for me was when my nephew Carter was born. It was five years ago on Monday, St. Patrick's Day. I remember
In 1961, the Belgian composer Jacques Brel wrote “Le Moribond,” a dark song about a man about to be executed, and sang it in an unsentimental, almost jazzy style. Sample lyric, translated to English: Goodbye, Tony, I
I turn the Big 50 in April. I'm not exactly dreading it, but I'm not exactly looking forward to it either. I try to keep reminding myself that lots of people have been deprived of the privilege
I’m writing this before 4:00 in the morning, and since it will appear on the website of my employer I suppose it’s “work,” but I’m lucky to love radio broadcasting so I rarely feel like I work.
The anniversay of my ankle break was just a couple of weeks ago. I didn't do anything to celebrate it except take a walk. My ankle will never be the same as it was. I don't think I'll ever