Comfort is a funny thing. When we have it, we’re usually not aware of it. It’s just there

It’s a good price and they’ll assemble it for us,” The Lovely Marianne looked up from her iPad and nodded. “This is a good deal. 

When I knocked on the doctor’s front door, a dog on the other side went nuts. And this being my one and only visit to the doctor’s house, I took a healthy step back.

When our daughters were small, we would wake them before dawn on Thanksgiving morning and drive into Manhattan to watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade from a spot on Central Park West, just across the street from The Dakota (the apartment building where John Lennon lived and died).

A guy I don’t know emailed me a question. I get a lot of that because I’m easy to find on the internet.

Twenty-five years ago, I wrote a story for this fine magazine. I titled it, “Only Gus Touch.” Over the years, many people have told me they still remember that tale and ask if I can send them a copy. Sure, why not?

No more double windows!” That was the title of an article I read in the Chicago Evening Post. The year was 1911 and the page was yellowed with age.

Here on the Isle of Long, if you throw a stick you’ll probably hit a Target store. I don’t have a problem with that because I really like Target stores.

Mr. Alfred G. King, it’s so good to hear your voice, even though you’ve been dead for quite some time.

At first, Eugene Bourdon was annoyed when he saw what his worker had done to the metal tube. The tube was in the shape of a spiral and it was to go into a laundry machine they were building in Bourdon’s shop.