In the mid- and late 1960s in our section of east Dallas, there were a limited number of ways for an energetic boy—girls just did not do this stuff, sticking to baby-sitting chores—to earn money. I washed cars, but that was...
I recently finished Joe DiMaggio: The Hero’s Life by Richard Ben Cramer and thought I would do a book review of sorts. I read the 515-page tome avidly, underlining and annotating as is my habit. DiMaggio was the subject of numerous...
During my childhood in Dallas, the Civil War was less than a century in the past. It seemed that a lot of people did not want to let go—as if that were such a wonderful and glorious time. The Confederate States of...
In the spring of 1977, I had decided to leave Texas—at least for a while. Behind the wheel of a blue Ford station wagon, I headed in a northeasterly direction. I spent a couple of days in Fayetteville, Arkansas. It was a nice...
I was nine years old and excited if not perplexed when, on April 1, 1962, I opened the sports section of the Dallas Morning News. It contained an article with an accompanying photo which pleased me greatly. Of course, I knew that Roger Maris...
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