Not Minding That It Hurts

Little Boy Blues is Malcolm Jones’ beautiful memoir about growing up with his mother (and sometimes, his father) in North Carolina in the late Fifties and early Sixties. It’s my favorite kind of memoir—understated, succinct, honed. The prose is precise without being delicate: “My father was a quiet man. If he put… » 3/31/15 11:42am 3/31/15 11:42am

Sports Phone (It's Hard Being Hooked)

I'll never forget the number. Sports Phone. Man, I used to sneak calls to it as much as I could in the early-mid-Eighties. I had to sneak them because the calls were expensive and if too many showed up on the phone bill my ass was new mown grass. But still, in those days I'd do whatever I could to get an up-to-date… » 2/24/15 12:36pm 2/24/15 12:36pm

Bobby Knight: The General Who Never Was

Sometimes a story comes along, jumps out at you, and won't let go. Such was the case last year with Jeremy Collins' beautifully-rendered memoir piece, "Thirteen Ways of Looking at Greg Maddux." It took a long time for the story to come together for Collins and when I finished my only concern was, "Maybe that's all… » 2/04/15 10:08am 2/04/15 10:08am

Beautiful Baltimore Bums

My father was born and raised in New York City. He idolized, among others, Sid Caesar, Walt Kelly, and Adlai Stevenson. As his son, I campaigned for Mondale/Ferraro when I was in the 8th grade, drew anti-Reagan political cartoons for my social studies class, and hung a huge Keith Haring "Free South Africa" poster in… » 2/02/15 11:12am 2/02/15 11:12am