Category: humor
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Passports 12: The Legendary Hedges of Devonshire
Hedges. In most standard dictionaries, “hedge” will be defined as a row of shrubs to separate lawns, fields or pastures. In Devon, they can also separate your sense of self-confidence and driving skill from your very soul. If you drive seven miles along a “two-lane” road with these hedges, the fear you will feel is…
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Passports 11: Morris Dancing: Another Way for the English to be Silly or an Ancient Cultural Tradition?
I had my hand on the door handle of the Antiquarian Book Store in Moretonhampstead village. In a moment, I would be lost among my dear friends, the arcane tomes and dusty volumes of local history and regional literature. My thumb was on the latch. I pressed down. It gave way under my pressure. The…
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Passports 10: A Letter to My Son Regarding Advertising
From: Moorcote House, Moretonhampstead, Devon, England To: Brian, Astoria, Queens, New York My Dear Boy, I hope this post finds you well and in good stead. Has your golf game improved somewhat? I do hope so, because remember the reward I promised last Christmas? In case you have forgotten: if your game improves to within…
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Passports 5: A Blog Worthy Bathroom
I try to post as few pictures of bathrooms as possible. I have high standards for my blog site and even I will not pander to the demands of the general population regarding bathrooms. I do make exceptions, however, when I feel that there is socially redeeming value to a bathroom. Of course, my own…
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Passports I: East and West of the Sun
The great city of New York was behind us…and the sun was setting in the west. We flew into the approaching darkness of night. As I was planning this blog series, I was sitting on the American Airlines 767 trans-oceanic super jet propelled airplane. My problem, right from the ‘get go’ (God, I hate that…
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The Thing
A few months ago, I stopped at a small country deli for a turkey and swiss cheese sandwich. The store was in Keene Valley, New York. There are fine views of the High Peaks of the Adirondacks from the porch of the deli. I had some brown mustard and low-fat mayo on rye bread. The…
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The Skeleton in the Taxi
The Division Head in the private school where I taught was very adamant. “All this stuff has to go, Pat. Everything you don’t use in a year should be cleaned out.” I looked around the Middle School lab and began to make mental notes of what needed to be tossed. The chemicals, of course, had…
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I Was a Teenage Blogger
The road to perdition is paved with little things. My own dark and tragic personal story begins with little pieces of paper. Not small bits the size of confetti that are thrown out of windows on lower Broadway during “ticker-tape” parades. No, larger slips white or yellow ripped from notebooks, steno pads and the…
patrickjegan 