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Buckaroo Banzai and the Sadness of Childhood Tycoons

Buckaroo Banzai and the Sadness of Childhood Tycoons

It’s hard being the son of a childhood newspaper tycoon.   Although the conclusive history is lost to the ages (he’d be turning 100 this year), apparently Dad made quite a splash back in the day, very early in life. He started as a paperboy on foot,...
I Once Watched the Moon

I Once Watched the Moon

I Once Watched the moon make its way across the nighttime sky.   I was a childhood insomniac. Especially on Sundays, for some reason. I don’t know why. Mondays were never any more demanding than any other day. There was no morning rush for me to dread. I...
“Real People” meets a Real Person

“Real People” meets a Real Person

Does anyone else remember a TV show called Real People? If not, no big deal. It was pretty forgettable. Very popular in the late 70’s-early 80’s. “Real People” was an early stab at “reality” TV: A collection of segments on ordinary...
The Morning Ritual

The Morning Ritual

The morning ritual: Some pray. Some meditate. Some do yoga. Some exercise. My dad cleaned the kitchen. Often, he’d awaken me. Running water. Pots banging. Glasses clinking. The sound of a whisk broom against tile. Cabinets opening and closing. The sun always...
Fatherhood: Riding Bikes Together

Fatherhood: Riding Bikes Together

I had an essential experience of fatherhood yesterday. For the first time my son and I rode bicycles together. But the experience was oddly bittersweet.   My dad and I never rode together. I learned to ride a bike on my 7th birthday. Dad lifted the pre-assembled...