Thursday, December 31, 2015
Frank Malzone was a great ballplayer (in particular, as a third baseman), and was a hometown favorite, in Boston; he was with the Red Sox from 1955-1965. In the early to mid-1960s, while growing up, I loved watching him play (on TV, and at Fenway Park). He died on Tuesday, at 85.
Friday, December 25, 2015
Wednesday, December 23, 2015
My friend Morgan White, Jr., talk show host at WBZ-AM in Boston, will be sitting in, tonight and tomorrow night, for the station's overnight host, Bradley Jay. The program airs from midnight to 5.
Tuesday, December 8, 2015
There are particular events, certainly, which cause the world to shift, in dramatic ways. In America, one thinks of the JFK assassination--and how conversations about it continue, regularly, decades later. (Just a week ago, I began reading another book about what took place in Dallas.) There were the deaths of Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King. And, indeed, the catastrophes of Pearl Harbor, and September 11th.
There has, most recently, been San Bernardino. One is shaken by it--reading about it; watching, for hours, the television coverage of the aftermath of the killings; wondering what the tragedy could conceivably portend, for the country.
There are also, of course, positive moments of great significance, as well: three months after JFK's death, for example, The Beatles appeared on American television. It was thrilling, world-changing.
And then, years later--thirty-five years ago today--John Lennon was killed. That night, you heard the news of what had happened, and in an instant, the world was not at all the same.
Sunday, December 6, 2015
Am continuing to think, a great deal (as is true of so many others), about the terrible tragedy of San Bernardino--and the sickness, the cancer, that is terrorism.
Tonight is also the first night of Chanukah--and my very best wishes to everyone who is observing the holiday.
Chanukah is of course also known as the Festival of Lights. In my own home, I would like to think that the lights of Chanukah, set on a table at the kitchen window, can--in addition to their traditional meanings--serve as at least one symbolic counterpoint to the darkness of terror.