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The Flintstones led impossible lives. They purchased winning lottery tickets. Celebrities visited them. A magical space alien, “The Great Gazoo”, served Fred and Barney for several episodes, as did various well-behaved dinosaurs and related creatures who were trained for roles as vacuum cleaners, can openers, and lawn mowers. Houses were bigger on the inside than the outside. The conceit of WandaVision, a recent ente

Welcome to God’s Country(Note: Essay originally written in January, 2018—JB) At Charlotte Douglas International Airport, I step outside the terminal into gorgeous 70 degree weather. Rolling behind me is my businessman’s suitcase, while slung over my shoulder are two ski bags—a long skinny one for my Elans, a short dumpy affair for the boots.   I flag down the hotel shuttle, and its driver stares at m

A COVID vaccine with my name on it is due to be injected sometime in the next few weeks, and the wife and teenager should soon follow. As far as I can tell, that’s license for renewing our annual road trip this summer—a dream shared by a zillion other middle-class families in the country, so I imagine, but we’re going for it anyway. The interested parties (myself, my wife, the teenager) have been discussing the road

Many of you have asked about the health of Pawlie the Cat, whom (last we spoke) was suffering a heavily-abused tail. The good news is that the tail amputation was successful. Pawlie has now rejoined the household with no ill effect, and is back to his official duties of….well, whatever it is the cat does all day. None of you asked about the scrapped ash-gray T shirt that my wife had appropriated for a tail bandage. R

March 1, 2021 All I wanted was an empty cardboard box for holding firewood. We go through a lot of firewood, which means we go through a lot of cardboard boxes. But there it was, in a box by the edge of the dumpster, forgotten but not forlorn, hiding under some loose papers and a cardboard divider. There it was, a bottle of Modelo, a Mexican import, its gold tinsel wrapper still affixed on cap. Ice cold, too—because

As I put these words onto page (or electrons onto screen), the news is full of news that I consider pretty good. The states of Michigan, Pennsylvania, and Nevada have all certified the results of the election. Our president-elect Joe Biden has selected cabinet members and senior aides who appear reasonable, competent, and capable. John Kerry will be spearheading efforts to combat climate change. Vaccines appear to be

NOW THAT the team of Biden and Harris have been elected President and Vice President—and heavens, does it feel good to type that!—I keep thinking about the good people who died before they could see this day. Plenty of valiant famous folk deserve acknowledgment, but I keep thinking of Sam Lieberman, who was in my Bar Mitzvah class all those years ago, and as an adult made a long list of contributions to the people of

The title of this post, minus the bit about the election, comes from a short story by Ernest Hemingway that I dubbed my favorite back when I was in eighth or ninth grade, for reasons I can’t remember. The narrator, who I suppose is a stand-in for the author, is sequestered in the hospital but neither dying nor seriously ill. The nun wants to listen to the USC-Notre Dame football game but is nervous about the ou

The title quote for this essay comes to us from Barack Obama, the former President, and a man whom I greatly admire. The quote has been distributed widely over social media to us liberals, and refers to our campaign for Joe Biden and other democrats in the upcoming election. I’ve been wondering whether the quote unintentionally applies to life in general. Seems unfair if it does, but still. We can find plenty of faul