I’ve confused people. They can’t tell if I’m socially awkward or socially inept.

Which reminds me of that old sports quote from a coach to a player, “Son, are you ignorant or apathetic?”  The reply?  “I don’t know and I don’t care.”

Anyway, I’m kinda both – especially when it comes to hugging.  The bro hug is that thing that starts as a classic handshake and morphs into a kind of shoulder bump, half hug.  I don’t really get who you’re supposed to go bro with.  A really good friend might be someone who hates freaking hugging and that’s one of the reasons he’s a really good friend.  Or he’s such a good friend you don’t want to do a bro hug because it seems phony or too common.  You see guys meeting for the first time and they go in for the

By Kevin Boyle

Clare Droesch was selected as a high school All-American basketball player. She was one of the very top players in the entire country. Her hoops prowess got her on magazine covers.  She was offered scholarships to powerhouse schools and eventually chose Boston College. In her final home game, she helped beat No. 1-ranked UConn in a nationally televised game. She had a great enough career to be inducted into the school’s Hall of Fame. Clare was a legit basketball legend.


It looked like an old-style bank run this week when people stormed donut shops and bakeries. “What are you going to do? You just can’t starve,” a man, with a ring of sugar around his lips, said to me. He held his bag of donuts and muffins open, offering me whatever caloric time bomb I wanted. “One of them is banana. Bananas are good for you. Here, take one, have something good.”

“It’s like a diet dispensation,” a woman chimed in. “If the CDC (Centers for Disease Control) tells you not to eat

I know I sound like a broken record on any number of topics and that reminds me… Does the term, broken record, mean anything to anybody under 40?  I’m guessing most of those whippersnappers know what a record is because vinyl is vintage and vintage is hip. But do they know why a broken record means repeat?

I meander down memory lane because so many things yank me right back there. I heard a guy say “terlit” the other day which, if you’re a certain age, you know he meant toilet. His Brooklynese

First Communions, weddings and other dress-up things happen around now. And just like clockwork, just like the opening of the beaches, you get a seasonal reminder just how inept Rockaway men are when it comes to fashion. It’s no secret —though I, probably, should have tried to keep it one. 

The Rockaway Times is free thanks to our advertisers. All things considered, I prefer to keep them happy. And God  knows, I try to patronize them. But sometimes I, uh, slip up.

We landed a nice account

My wife asked me what I wanted for dinner and then told me I was wrong.

Kidding, honey, kidding! I may have just broken the number one rule in the house.  You can’t say you were joking if it’s not funny. That’s a kid’s trick. They say stupid crap and then when you’re about to rip their heads off, they say they were joking. They are then reminded of rule Number One.

Actually, most challenges in the land of marital bliss are a little more subtle than that crack about dinner.

Now, I’m no Henny

I spend my life wishing I’d said that. Somebody says something funny and I don’t have time to laugh —I’m too busy turning green with envy.

I don’t wish I had invented the walkie-talkie but I do wish I were  the person who wondered aloud:  what if the person who named the walkie-talkie named other things, like stamps. A stamp would be called licky-sticky.

Licky-sticky! Ingenious. And ridiculous sounding. But on the scale of the absurd, I’d say no worse than walkie-talkie —a name we all say

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