Often my brother John would ask young restaurant servers this question: “Who was Winston Churchill?”
If they did not know the answer (and they usually didn’t), John would hold forth on the loss of historical knowledge among America’s youth.
Often my brother John would ask young restaurant servers this question: “Who was Winston Churchill?”
If they did not know the answer (and they usually didn’t), John would hold forth on the loss of historical knowledge among America’s youth.
My current book group has achieved impressive longevity. It began in 1985 and shows no signs of faltering.
Before that date I had taken part in two other groups. Though I did not retain notes on either of them, I believe they both began in the nineteen seventies and ended in that same decade. Our current group reconfigured itself many years ago, after some tension over religion and politics.
If you have an attic in your house, I hope it is not as cluttered as mine was until recent weeks. That’s when we took action and had the space cleaned out of a great variety of long-nested materials.
Sometime in the late 1970s I first heard a public radio show called “Prairie Home Companion.” It seemed to me odd and indefinable, with a variety of musical shapes and weird ads.
In time, I became familiar with the format and especially the prime performer, Garrison Keillor. I looked forward to his many allusions to Lake Wobegon “where all the women are strong, all the men are good looking, and all the children are above average.”
The arrival of another Christmas season fills me with welcome feelings. It’s a time of being with people important in my life. That means those at hand: family members, and friends old and new.
In 1940 the Russians and the British produced thirty-six thousand warplanes while the Germans made only ten thousand.
And in 1942, the British controlled ten million tons of oil as contrasted with Germany’s one million.
These numbers and others like them, demonstrating allied superiority in resources, made some German generals recognize early on that they could not win the war.
“Is Age Slowing You Down?” So asks a Boston hospital that wants me for a research study.
They promise me three meals a day plus snacks, for six months. And, oddly, either testosterone or a placebo. And medical exams at no cost.