By Jeff Woodard December 2007 The tug-of-war inside my head can be ugly. When the linear, logical left brain tangles with the emotional, creative right, you’d think something would eventually give. Often it’s a standoff. A draw. A tie. A dead heat. No winner, no loser. Just a lot of energy being exerted at offsetting…
My first impression is that she’s underdressed. She must be cold. Piercingly bright rays of early-autumn sunshine slice between still-leafy branches of the once-mighty oak across the street. While the beams gently land on her – clad in a short-sleeved navy knit pullover, lightweight slacks and sandals on a brisk afternoon on the shores of Lake…
By Jeff WoodardJanuary 1994, Columbus, Ohio I thought the bourbon in in my veins was playing tricks on me. It was 10 0’clock ona Tuesday, and I’d just returned home from tossing back a few Manhattanscourtesy Of my friends Andy and Chuck. What better way to take the chill Off thewinter of ’94 than with…
One catchy little refrain. That’s all “Banjo” Fred Starner wants the commercial industry to hear. The face of American folk music may be a-changin’, but it’s here to stay. And the genre of the hobo – the rail-ridin’ vagabond whose off-the-beaten-path lifestyle embodies the purpose and passion of folk music – isn’t goin’ anywhere either.…
By Jeff Woodard July 2024 I have a new buddy. Why I don’t make more time for him, I’m just not sure. He’s a storyteller. A doozy of a storyteller. The other day I popped over to see him. During my previous visit, we sat out on his tiny front porch and enjoyed the sunshine…
By Jeff Woodard February 2009 When I took a break last weekend from hours of chipping, chiseling and scalding 10 to 12 inches of ice out Of my gutters, it wasn’t for a hot bowl of soup! Or a steamy Cup of tea. Or a chance to toast my frigid digits in front of the…
Two special shout-outs today — both involving (more or less) 50-year milestones. One is to my BFF from high school. He turns 67 today. The other is to my 12-step “grandsponsor.” He is 50 years clean and sober today. Pretty cool stuff. Good news, indeed, on the day following two days of celebrating the lives…
I don’t do well with heights anymore. I can’t pinpoint when the issue arose, although there was that one Ohio State football game in the early ’90s. I was relatively hungover and our seats were in C deck, where the pitch of the stands is, to risk understatement, extreme. The person in the row in…
There he stood, looking like a ’50s rock-n-roll wanna-be, in the eye of the storm. John had high hair. Only it wasn’t all gooped up like a greaser. All of 21 years old, I’d guess, he also sported sideburns, blue eyes and baby-soft skin. Playing rock ‘n’ roll music is a picnic compared with what…
Dear Uncle Mike: It was good to see you Friday, I hope I didn’t stay too long. I could tell you had somewhere to go. Just wanted to say thanks again. For the visit, and for so many other things. In replaying my childhood, well … I can’t hit the “play” button without thinking of…