It seems that one of my running buddies may have missed the point of these past 300-something columns almost entirely. I was describing what a pleasant time my younger son and I had had on a recent car trip. We took turns finding trivia questions online: which MLB team
“I would trade all my tomorrows for a single yesterday,” Janice Joplin suggested shortly before her death from a heroin overdose severely limited any and all of her tomorrows. “I will gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today,” intoned Whimpy, amusing generations who knew the truth: charming guy; but
My colleague, the head clinician, needs to hire a new therapist. The criteria for the position are extensive. The 14 to 17-year-olds at this program are clinically complex. An appropriate applicant must be able to handle kids who have not previously met with success. These kids have done poorly in
Thirty Year Old True Fact: The more milk an infant drinks, the less likely she is to be a heroin addict as an adult. Similarly, the less milk an infant drinks, the more likely she is to be addicted to heroin as an adult. Admittedly, correlation does not imply causality.
Everyone in our running group is infinitely supportive. Of running. “When is your next event?” “How can I help you train?” But beyond athletics, we tend to be snarky by nature and brutal in practice. The phrase “junior high” springs to mind. Also, “mean girls” and “off our meds.” One
What do the following books have in common? The Red Badge of Courage, 1984, “Julius Caesar,” The Grapes of Wrath, Lord of the Flies, The Diary of Anne Frank, Call of the Wild, and Flowers for Algernon? If you said, “some of the most depressing books ever written,” I would agree. Or as my sarcastic older
It starts with a glance followed by a whisper in a supermarket. Why is that child so fussy? Why doesn’t his mother just tell him ‘no’? “No, you cannot push over that stack of canned peaches.” “No, you cannot keep poking that stranger on the arm.” “No, you cannot climb
Being temporarily out of seven-year-olds, my wife and I borrowed one for a few weeks this summer. “A snail!” Larry would exclaim frequently during our dog walks with the enthusiasm an adult typically reserves for winning lottery tickets and unicorn sightings. Pretty great. In addition to snails, Larry was also
Do some of these Tuesday columns impress you as pretentious moralizing? You can tell me. Don’t be shy. Do you, gentle readers, feel judged or–even worse–talked down to? Does this author present as if he has all the answers, like his kids pee perfume, like he did everything right? Does
Wait For It My buddy Sharfman could run 20 miles the way most people open their refrigerators, effortlessly and without talking about it a whole bunch. Scharfman and I ran an ultra marathon together in Connecticut. Thirty miles in, he asked me how I was doing. “I could use a
Copyright © David Altshuler 1980 – 2024 | Miami, FL • Charlotte, NC | (305) 978-8917 | [email protected]
