I hope you will understand: I am not an advocate for tobacco. But there’s an ember inside me that flares up just a little for the thoughtful space a puff on a pipe or cigarette allotted us, back when we…

It is New York, in early October 1969. Indian Summer, in these pre-Earth Day times, is something everyone can see. An orange, almost atomic sky. Remembering … you are suddenly back there at age 12, closing apartment windows as if…

Gordon: Good to see you, Chet. Chet: You, too, Gordon. How are those prize-winning hogs? Gordon: Hard to tell, really. They don’t share much. Chet: (Nodding.) Seen any candidates at the State Fair? Watch a little of the debates? Gordon:…

“Does Candidate #1659-R-18 play the tuba? There’s an urgent note here from the band director. They’re one brass instrument short…”