I don’t know how long I’ll be able to do this, but it occurs to me that this is something I can do right now.
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It was flattering to be called “Pulitzer” when I ordered a sandwich or pizza, but there came a time when that had to end.
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My favorite coffee story here in the Pacific Northwest is still about my first time at a drive-thru in Oregon.
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I went to a baseball game and a rocket launch happened. I couldn’t sleep last night so I wrote about it for you.
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There are many logistical problems, so it’s mostly just a nice fantasy, but it’s an excuse to check in. How are you?
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I thought some of you might like to see what old-school scribbling was like for me back in the day, as they say.
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I’m leaving The Athletic and The New York Times Company. The decision is mine. My last day will be Feb. 2.
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Last night I found myself in tears during the climactic scene of motion picture I’ve seen several times. That’s when I decided to write this.
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