January 31, 2012

Here is how you lose weight like a man. Spray a nonstick pan with Pam, and then pour a cup of nonfat egg product in it. When it hardens sufficiently, it is ready. Just like concrete. Add a coat of Tabasco and then knock it all back with a quart of Crystal Light. |READ|

Older dads won’t have as many years with their children and grandchildren, so they’ve got to make the time matter. |READ|

The women do not come with our tribe when we go into the wilderness.
It is not their place. They are incapable of not fussing over tangled hair and dirty clothes, not organizing activities, not immediately patching boo-boos with Band-Aids.
The dads not do these things for our princesses. |READ|

A personal remembrance of civil rights crusader Stetson Kennedy.

When Dorothy first laid eyes on Oz, she famously told Toto that “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.” I felt the same way in the summer of 1966, when my family moved from Florence, Alabama, to Winter Park, Florida. My dad had been sent by his company to manage the Winter Park Sun-Herald, a long-established weekly newspaper it had just acquired.

Unless you’re hauling a truckload of debris to the Seminole County Landfill, you probably have no particular reason to be driving along desolate Osceola Road, which originates just northeast of Geneva and rambles through the oak hammocks, hardwood swamps and floodplain marshes where Lake Harney flows into the St. Johns River.