It’s summer.  I usually declare it over by now but this one hasn’t really started yet. I’m taking a leap and saying there’ll be good weather from here on in.  Good weather, good times. Good opportunity to stay on this side of the bridges.

I republish a couple of columns every year because I’m lazy. In this case, it’s for the public good and I have an obligation. This the annual Please Don’t Invite Us To Anything Over The Summer Announcement that you hope friends and family who live off the peninsula will read. 

It’s necessary to basically reprint the column each year because you don’t want mainlanders thinking maybe we’re cracking, giving in to the idea that we’d be okay with leaving Rockaway for a day trip. And for those who live here

I had to look it up. Father’s Day has been celebrated since the 1500s. I figured it was a Hallmark invention or Macy’s gimmick so kids would buy more ties for dear old dad.  But, little did I know, it was tied in with the Feast of Saint Joseph. Yeah, Joseph, Big Joe, the dad of dads. He’s the guy who by all accounts did a pretty decent job as a dad since he raised somebody named Jesus. Now there was a guy who could brag about his kid. But by all accounts he did no such thing. When other dads

I heard a story recently that gave me a chuckle and if there were any way I could claim it as my own, I certainly would, but I can’t pull off the required Scottish accent. I’d actually heard this classic a couple years ago and had forgotten about it until the recent retell. 

It reminded me how some things and stories become common knowledge and live on, while others — equally deserving — just fade away. Others live on but to a too small audience. (I’m doing my part to expand the audience to my

The New York World’s Fair in 1964 and 1965 was a big deal. It was so great everybody wanted to see the next one, which was called Expo 67 in Montreal. That one must’ve been a dud because nobody can name another that came after. We’ve even had them in the United States. Knoxville kinda rings a bell but don’t try telling me you remember New Orleans or, yikes, the San Antonio version. San Antonio, a world’s fair? Who knew?

Right before New York, Seattle had a World’s Fair. Seattle wasn’t a great

It’s been said before that the shortest list in the world is the list of Rockaway’s Best Dressed Men.  The Rockaway Top 10 has, maybe, four guys on it.  Not that I’ve ever actually seen these guys but they must be out there, right?  If you see somebody looking dapper, you first assume that they don’t live here.

Somebody I know was trying to give away a suit he said cost $1500.  He got no takers, though another guy told him he had overpaid by $1400.  T-shirts and tank tops are standard wear

It was divine intervention.  I’d dropped out of college, then traveled cross country with a buddy on Amtrak.  We got to Los Angeles and the weather was nice.  A TV weatherman seemed to have the easiest job in town. He said it was sunny and 75 today — as it has been for a thousand years.  Of course, the only thing warmer than the weather were the girls. 

We soon realized the key to enjoying this paradise was securing a car.  We bought a Dodge  Dart with 139,000 miles on it (which was a crazy

The son who will remain nameless returned home, his first year in college complete. He spent the first semester in Ireland where the Crack was grand. It’s actually spelled –Craic – but is said the same way as crack so it can be a little jarring to hear about all the craic your son had. He’d lost a bit of weight in Ireland which confused me even more about this craic stuff. Craic sounded like crack and with him looking like a leprechaun skeleton, it looked like crack to me.  But as usual, I was

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