Watching Them Watch Me
Love is a golden vessel, containing, by its very nature, both joys and sorrows. The poignant reality of this human condition is beautifully shown in a recent memoir from the New York Times, sent to us by Alain Hunkins, The MKP Journal’s Corporate Leadership & Facilitation Contributing Editor. Anyone who has ever suffered the slow loss of a spouse or a parent will feel this moving story by Times writer Dean E. Murphy. It...
Salt of the Earth, a Eulogy for my Father
Joseph Edward Corbett February 15, 1921 – October 28, 2011 by Peter Corbett A couple of years ago we had a family reunion at one of our most treasured gathering places; the Lake Mansfield Trout Club. For those who don’t know it, Lake Mansfield nestles into the steep drops at the base of the range that is the south approach to Mount Mansfield. It’s the last possible stop up what often seems an endless dirt road, especially in...
Thanks Mr. LaRussa! From a Chicago Sock
by David Alan Brantford Pitchers Dennis Lamp, Floyd Bannister, and Cy Young winner LaMar Hoyt. Fielders Harold Baines, Ron Kittle, and Tom Paciorek. Designated hitter Greg “The Bull” Luzinski. And to wrap it up, the penultimate catcher, Carlton “Pudge” Fisk. These men were just the core of my favorite baseball team roster, the 1983 American League West Championship-winning Chicago White Sox. The White Sox...
You are the story of my life
by Pedro Serrano I opened the old diary at random. “I punched myself awake this morning.” It was in 1997, I’d had a nightmare. This was a time when fighting for your life during a zombie apocalypse wasn’t something you trained for on a regular basis. “I have to wake up!” I thought. My back against a wall, I come up with an idea. In my dream, as hard as I could I punched myself in the head. I opened...
The Eye of Irene
by Joseph DiCenso As I squush down the last stretch of the old logging trail that leads to Roaring Brook, the stream that drains our hillside, the sound is what signals that I’m about to have my expectations trumped. The brook is living up to its name, and then some: “roaring” doesn’t quite say it–it’s more like the static of a thousand TVs fed through a Central Park concert sound...