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The Inseide Dope, by Bob Seidenstein

The roots of all evil

One late night in the summer of my 20th year, strictly on a whim, I dug out my high school yearbook and started skimming through it. When I came to my senior picture, I sensed something was different about me then. But what was it? I looked, and looked some more, and then it dawned on me — ...

Slipping, sliding and smiling

There was a time in This Great Land of Ours when older people were figures of respect. But no more. When you hit the Big Seven-O you’d like to think that because you’ve paid your dues and learned some things, you’ve earned some props. However, the exact opposite is true. Today, if ...

Family matters and memories of Ed

Last Saturday, the Brighton town park was to be the gathering of Clan Woodward. They wouldn’t be there to dance the Highland Fling, toss the caber, or scarf haggis, but to celebrate the clan matriarch, Ruth’s, 91st birthday. In all, there’d be about 35 of them — seven of the ...

Unburied treasure II, with a friendly greeting

At the Bloomingdale townwide garage sale last month I made a big score on my first stop — an old two-man crosscut saw. So the odds of a second score were the same as winning the lottery, without buying a ticket. But my sailing partner, Kookie, insisted we keep driving down the River Road. A ...

Righting the wrongs (of writing)

Most people have a good idea about what writers do, namely that they write. There are different kinds of writers, but when folks hear the word, they probably think of either novelists, nonfiction writers and journalists. And they also probably think of them in the following ...

Unburied treasure

As soon as I answered the phone and heard, “New in town, sailor? Looking for a good time?” I know who it was. No, it was not a lady of the night plying her putative charms. It was my friend Kookie, goofing as usual. “So,” she said, “do you know what tomorrow is?” “Do you ...