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- Al Levi: Managing Your Business
- John Siegenthaler: Hydronics Workshop
- Dan Holohan: Heating Help
- Julius Ballanco: Plumbing Primer
- Paul Ridilla: Practical Management
- Kenny Chapman: Blue Collar Coach
- Adams Hudson: Marketing Strategies
- Jim Hamilton: The Bottom Line
- Ray Wohlfarth: The Boiler Room
- Morris Beschloss: Beschloss Perspective
- Kelly Faloon: Editorial Opinion
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Dan Holohan: Heating Help
Our daughter Kelly and her husband, Craig, wanted to give our grandchildren names that would never appear on a souvenir rack in a touristy store, so they named our grandson Sullivan “Sully” Daniel and our granddaughter Dempsey Jane.
I turn 64 this month and if I knew I was going to live this long I would have taken better care of myself. Will you still need me; will you still feed me, when I’m 64? Hope so.
Last summer, when we were roasting in that July heat wave, Ron Friedman, Ph.D, wrote a brilliant article for Psychology Today magazine. He titled it, “Want More Productive Workers? Adjust Your Thermostat.” This grabbed me by the lapels and gave me a good shake, of course.
This is the month when we Americans give thanks for all that is good in our lives and I’m all for that. I love the big meal, the gathering family and the Macy’s parade. I also love nodding off on the couch after all that grand stuff.
Each Thursday morning, I send a free enewsletter to more than 5,000 opt-in subscribers. It usually contains seven links to interesting stories (some of which even have to do with heating) along with my brief musings. I do this because I am curious by nature, love to share and have no life.
Our daughter, Colleen, born and raised on Long Island, now lives in a suburb of Boston with her husband, Adam. The town they live in is called Medford.
I was chatting with an engineer the other day. She called to ask me some questions about old steam-heating systems, particularly those of the New York City variety.
I’d like to begin with a big shout-out to that noted philosopher, Mr. Michael Tyson, who once said, “Everyone has a plan, ’til they get punched in the mouth.”
I was lucky to have had as one of my teachers the late, great Gil Carlson.
Each morning, when I sit at my desk, I give a moment’s thought to the broken copper pipe buried in the concrete slab just below my feet.