INTRO: One chilly day decades ago, after playing hockey with sons Sean and Pat on the commonly-called Muck Hole in Leeds, we were followed through the woods by a young white fox, a pleasant enough critter, who seemed to be auditioning for pethood. We all three wanted to stroke its fur, to scratch its ears, … Continue reading As the hockey season comes to a close in Boston, here’s a cool pond puck story from earlier this year:
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, alongside Ma’s slips and Grandad’s underwear……….. Merry Christmas, all. Here’s a re-peat that seems appropriate on such a day. 10/27/2009 - Daily Hampshire Gazette By Bob Flaherty NORTHAMPTON - When the ice breaks apart upriver, it storms down the Connecticut in a roaring tsunami of jagged … Continue reading Christmas on the thirsty river
That’s it. I demand a recall. I want my novel back. All copies should be sent to me with a self-addressed stamped envelope. Some changes need to be made.
We get into Wilmington at around noon. The snow has just about stopped. The train leaves you on an outdoor platform—and there the city is. Colder than hell. Everybody thinks we’re crazy to not take a cab or, saints deliver us, a BUS to the hotel, but I googled the thing, it’s like a mile, … Continue reading brrrrrr
Ani DiFranco’s guitar is played like a hard-rid horse, taped-up fingers clawing at its midsection, fret hand yanking away from its neck with each defiant twang. You almost feel sorry for the instrument. But you never feel sorry for her. Not with that smile, that joyous swagger, that self-assured survivalism she’s had since birth. DiFranco … Continue reading Riding the Rails
