His name was Bill. He had wild hair, wore a T-shirt with holes in it, blue jeans and no shoes. In the entire time I knew him I never once saw Bill wea...
Fox River gave life to the country town of Colby Point, for the road and the river ran alongside one another. Colby Point was really the name of a roa...
I’ll never forget Easter 1946. I was fourteen, my little sister, Ocy, was twelve and my older sister, Darlene, was sixteen. We lived at home wit...
The crayoned picture shows a first-grade boy with shoebox arms, stovepipe legs and tears squirting like melon seeds. The carefully printed caption rea...
We tried so hard to make things better for our kids that we made them worse.For my grandchildren, I’d know better.I’d really like for them...
As far back as I can remember, the large pickle jar sat on the floor beside the dresser in my parents' bedroom. When he got ready for bed, Dad wou...
I've often felt that "step-parent" is a label we attach to men and women who marry into families where children already exist, for the s...
I had the chance to sit down at Jack Murphy Stadium in San Diego with Joe Montana before he went onto the field with the San Francisco 49ers against D...
This story took place several years ago, when our boys were about eight years old. It was the first game of the season, and the first game in which th...
The year was 1964. The place was Chicago. A man I worked with had acquired a couple of all-leather, NFL regulation, 1963 Chicago Bears-inscribed footb...