From St. Paul to Coon Rapids to Summerville, South Carolina. Norwegian ancestry (as evidenced by a pile of cookbooks and a Norwegian/English dictionary), a Japanese gent in Minnesota, to the “Christ haunted South” (in Flannery O’Connor’s words.) A sportswriter, the … Continue reading →

There’s a wonderful old joke by our man Groucho Marx that goes, outside of a dog, a book is man’s best friend. Inside of a dog it’s too dark to read. Well, if you’ve got a dog that’s big enough, … Continue reading →

Tolstoy once asked: how much land does a man need? I pondered this as we wandered the homes of the rich, and then the very, very rich. To be honest, I have deep and abiding distrust of the wealthy, a … Continue reading →

Who doesn’t love ties? Neckties, bowties, Windsor knot, half-Windsor, four-in-hand. Well, if my lying eyes are to be believed, most men dislike ties, wearing them only for their work, a colorful metaphor for the strangling nature of white collar existence. … Continue reading →