Sam Adam

“Hello Sam. Hello Sam.” Does he mean ‘Sam I am?’ You know, from Dr. Seuss, Theodor Geisel. “Do you mean Sam I am?” “Hello Sam.” Everyday by the beech tree near the cement court in the playground. “Hi Sam.” He knows my name isn’t Sam. I have an uncle named Sam, or rather, his nickname … Continue reading Sam Adam


“I’m not sharing Sharon, of this I’m swearing.” – Jim Stafford, comic country singer-song writer in 1974. Strange how a song lyric can take your mind back in time, like a particular smell can. Stranger still is this song brings me back to a memory of recalling memories, or rather, of not recalling memories. Buddy … Continue reading Sharing


Fink-a-dope, fink-a-dope, fink-a-dope rock. Little Ronnie sang this to the tune of “Jingle-bell Rock”. He called me fink-a-dope after Mohammad Ali’s late career boxing strategy to tire out his opponent by enduring multiple fist blows while he protected his face with upraised fists and his back near the ring’s ropes. “I’m so pretty.” Mohammad would … Continue reading Fink-A-Dope

Will the Pill

Will the Pill had vodka as well. Or a friend who would buy selectively. By buy, meaning buy for select underage curious drinkers. A can of Schlitz or a lifted bottle of wicker covered wine. Looks like something innocuous. Picking it out for grandma maybe. Not the stuff they’d expect us to lift anyway. Five … Continue reading Will the Pill

Jack the Knife

Every boy needs a jack knife. How can you get through scouts without one? One of my step-father’s few but proud fathering minutes. To the knife store then; I want something slick and fine to do nifty carving of small branches and Popsicle sticks. My knife has shiny wood panel sides like on Uncle Earl’s … Continue reading Jack the Knife