Author: Don Kirkland
When I was in high school in L.A. in the mid-1950s, the popular TV show “Leave It To Beaver” pretty much characterized our lives
As a 10-year-old growing up in the Midwest, Jon Konti remembers the anticipation that started weeks before the July 4th holiday—those big industrial-strength skyrockets set off at the hometown stadium, the secretly purchased Chinese firecrackers that some of his buddies somehow mysteriously acquired, even the hand-held sparklers that offered an always exciting, though presumably harmless, thrill.
It was 2007, nearly 10 years since Ward Walston had started awakening virtually every morning to confront another day, another construction site, another excruciating battle with the aches and pains that had grown progressively worse as the months and years wore on.
Around the world, social media commands a huge segment of our collective mindset—to the point, in fact, where many seem to feel that words on paper ultimately may be no more. I’m willing to admit that that very expectation someday might become reality.
It was the late 1990s, and for 14 long months Karen Goetz spent sleepless nights aplenty.
In its Monday, June 4, edition and in a column the previous week, The New.