I've said it before and I'll say it again...this has to end.
Not speaking of the weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth caused by the Ravens letting go of some old guys who were close to the end of their careers. Football is a business, and the people who run the Ravens were smart enough to put together a team that's been in the playoffs for five years running and won the Super Bowl last month. So please quit worrying. These people know what they're doing. Next man up!
So long, Captain Peacock. Frank Thornton died last Saturday. He lived to be 92, so you can't say he got cheated, but still, it makes me feel bizarre, and also makes me want to stop thinking.
And there are those who will insist that I never started!
But now, things take another turn.
Peggy and I were riding up the road the other day and she mentioned one of the 17 books she is currently reading. (Her reading diet leans toward the intelligent, the learned, the thoughtful, while mine is less so. And by less, I mean far less!) She mentioned the story of Solomon from the Bible as part of the narrative she wove.
Of course, in an effort to join the conversation or even relate to it, I went to the "Solomon" file in my memory and came up with Solly Hemus, a fiery infielder and former manager of the St. Louis Cardinals. There was a time that all infielders were "fiery," all outfielders were "fleet of foot" and all left-handed pitchers were either "quirky" or "crafty." Sometimes both.
Until we went to the Smith College Book Sale, and I, in my lifelong effort to purchase a copy of every book of Robert Benchley's essays, purchased "Love Conquers All," a 1922 compendium. This is a used book sale, remember, so you never know who used to own the books you buy.
Unless they wrote their name on the inside front cover: