On a summer day in 1980 while driving back to the office in my fifteen year old TR6, a British sports car, I realized no one taught me anything about any of this.
When I was in college I took a part time job intending to learn banking. I learned about more than just finance.
Toe Knee Stories have been written to be read at open mics.
Obituaries, you gotta love them.
My mother used to call them the Irish Sports Pages. Others have called them the Irish Comics or the Irish Racing Form.
Jesus. It was supposed to be a simple weekday lunch with my father.
He mopes onto the northbound Red Line train at Madison.
In 1981 I went to France and left my mark.
I gave my soul a name, Tommy.
In the 1960’s, I went to confession at Saint Joe’s Catholic Church in Libertyville, Illinois.
Ours was a common post-war catholic family. Nine kids, five boys and four girls, bouncing off each other 24/7. We all went to the same mass every Sunday and sucked up a whole pew.