Louise By arty Emmet I hate to admit it now, but I never heard of Louise Nevelson until her brother hung her oil paintings in the restaurant at the Thorndike Hotel. The Thorndike was the social center of Rockland in … Continue reading →

Sopranos By tv Emmet I win. Since the very first television broadcast of “The Sopranos” I have argued that it the best written (and acted) show on television. I would dutifully troop to Chief Al’s house to catch every Sunday … Continue reading →

Hammacher By pretend rich Emmet Despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, I remain convinced that I will win the lottery, some day. Never Mind that 30 years of tickets have delivered less than $1,500 in winnings, with $7,800 ($5 a … Continue reading →

Buttah By bad-eating Emmet I hate my doctor. This week, He named Public Enemy Number One: butter. Number Two: bread. Number three: pasta. Are you kidding me? This is my entire diet. I lead the nation in personal consumption of … Continue reading →

Bad food By fat emmet Some people exist solely to ruin my life, I swear. To defend myself, I should learn to be more selective, in my friendships and especially in my voracious reading. I read from morning to night, … Continue reading →

Sarcasm By wry emmet Frank Renew, The bard of Palatka, has eternally dubbed Cobb Manor “The Academy of Sarcasm.” And who could argue with him? I was born in a sarcastic family in a sarcastic neighborhood. Some have dismissed the … Continue reading →

Splash By soaking Emmet It’s that time of year again. That time when you don’t have to chip the newspaper from the ice on the front lawn. Before we all turned into very old fogies, the third week in May … Continue reading →

Lott By poor emmet Don’t get me wrong. I have never met Stephen and Terri Weaver of Stuttgart, Arkansas. But I do hate them. You have probably forgotten about the Weavers and their lottery winnings. I haven’t. First Stephen (hate … Continue reading →

Boylston By grieving Emmet Let’s face it, they will find the low-life scum who bombed the Boston Marathon. If they found out who bombed the airliner over Lockerbie, they can do anything. I will look forward with a burning passion … Continue reading →

Mags By reading emmet I am shooting for July 4. By then (I hope) I can catch up with the frightening pile of magazines now piled on my queen-size bed. It is the annual byproduct of my “Mooching across America … Continue reading →