We’ll get through this together, at a distance

March 15, 2020

You probably haven’t heard much about it yet in your area. It’s a new thing, really. Just burst onto the scene about back in ... oh, late December, I believe. Nah, I’m not referring to the whole deal with the super-jolly dude in red flying around on his big old sleigh with his cool caribou pals. I’m talking about that yucky old situation originally called coronavirus but now referred to as COVID-19. I know it sounds like a cool trendy ale or neat new video game, but it ain’t. Perhaps you’ve read a little something about it or heard it mentioned on the news — say 4.7 ...

Pop was always there and will always be remembered

March 8, 2020

Fernando. Fred. Freddie. Hon. Dad. Foh-pa. Bop. Grandpa Marinucci. Honorary big brother. Mr. Marinucci. Marinuch. My father was called many different names by a myriad of folks. As for me? I called him Pop. I was pretty much the only one who referred to him that way. I think that’s why I loved calling him it so much. Pop wore many hats. Most of them knit and with a big fluffy tassel on the top. My favorite is the red, green and white one with the holly pin he always wore “a Natale.” That’s “at Christmas” to the average non-Italian bear. Indeed, my Pop was a lot ...

Don’t worry about what you hear; you know you

March 1, 2020

It all happened so quickly. It was over nearly before it started. “Are we the only ones in here?” I faintly heard one gal ask another from my stall at the far wall end of the ladies room. “I think so,” came the somewhat muted reply as I tried to whip up a sham sneeze in attempts to be transparent whilst not looking like a double-agent of the KGB (i.e. covertly eavesdropping). Hey, do they still call Russia’s version of the FBI the KGB? Not like I’d understand a newer moniker anyway. I don’t even know what KGB stands for… I digress. I didn’t get out one spec ...

Woop! Woop! Swim parents: GOOOOOOO!

February 23, 2020

Swim parents. We’re a breed unto ourselves, to be certain. Take one glance and it’s clear that we aren’t your typical sports moms and dads. Or aunts and uncles, grammas and grampas, or general fans of float. We don’t cuss, fuss or tell the coach how to wrangle his school of fish. We’re different. In no other sport does a single, shrill, well-timed yelp (no, not the online recommendation sort), trill tooth-whistle or high-pitched WOOP mean so much. Parents of breast-strokers get it. Actually, some tend to get carried away with the ritual, which is what the other swim ...

On behalf of all the loners: Leave us alone!

February 9, 2020

I have to say that I’ve felt this way for quite some time now. It’s just that I’m always hesitant to broach a topic that could be easily construed as controversial. Especially in the current political climate, I am reticent to even mention the subject. But, no. You know what? This country was founded on certain indisputable rights (I never spell inalienable correctly, so I cheated there). Anyway, freedom of speech is a biggie, ding dang it. So, I will state my piece. Hmpf. Because there is a certain faction of the populous in these United States that I feel is treated poorly. ...

PUNKatawney Phil is a liar; 49ers are doomed

February 2, 2020

The thing about Groundhog Day and the Super Bowl being on the same day is — other than the fact that it’s only happened once before — it’s just double the depression for old PK. Here’s why: No. 1: There’ll never NOT be more winter after Groundhog Day. Look, I’m sorry to toss such shade his way but PA’s Punxsutawney Phil always burns me, and not with UV rays, you dig? Dude hardly ever sees his dumb shadow and even when he does, it’s clearly just from the brilliance of 8 bazillion mega-watt bulbs from 5,000 TV cameras blaring on him, not sunlight. They can call him ...