Emmett Meara
83 results total, viewing 1 - 20
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There is a rumor, initiated by a Boston Globe columnist, that Red Sox fans have lost their edge, their fanaticism.
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You would think it would be hard to get lost, mostly following Interstate 95 from South Portland to the Florida line. But I managed it. Several times.
I got off I-95 to get to Gettysburg, and got …
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Being a naive traveler who leaves the state of Maine only in dire emergency and Red Sox spring training, I thought that I had discovered the wonderful world of Jekyll Island off the Georgia coast …
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I kept checking my L.L. Bean polo shirt for bloodstains.
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You think Valentine’s Day is all hearts and flowers, cards and candlelight dinners.
What do you know? Silly goose.
It’s really all blood and guts, animal sacrifice, beating and beheading, …
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I despise February. March is no better.
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Can we slow it all down, just a bit?
For God’s sake, Dennis Hopper is making out his last will and testament, George Blanda is 82, and “Psycho” is celebrating its 50th anniversary of scaring …
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It’s always hard to tell whether you read all the “Spenser” books by Robert B. Parker. First of all, there were so many of them, plus they were so good, so funny that you had to pass them along …
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Those were the days, my friend. We thought they’d never end.
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The poor oil companies. Everyone (especially me) complains about the cartels and price-fixing that balloons our gasoline prices toward $3 a gallon and heating oil through the roof.
What about …
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What a year in the journalism racket. Walter Cronkite has died, Charlie Gibson has retired and the bible of the reporting business — Editor and Publisher magazine — has expired.
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Of course, Mark is right. He said the deal is to fly out of Bangor, nonstop, to Tampa at a cost of about $90 for my annual pilgrimage to Fort Myers and my beloved Red Sox.
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It’s that time of year. The wood pile is shrinking already and it’s not even winter yet. It’s time to refill that oil tank in the cellar and the checking account is approaching sea level, …
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In the old days — 1960 — I couldn’t have hated Irish music any more unless it was sung by a New York Yankee. It was the boozy, maudlin soundtrack to wakes and weddings, house parties, dreary …
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America’s oldest teenager, Dick Clark, turned 80 this week. Good God.
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As God as my witness, every word (and ingredient) is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the feloniously sloppy.
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Oh all right. It wasn’t the biggest mistake I ever made. It was just the latest.
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I used to be a lot smarter. (I know, it wouldn’t take much.) When I was a younger man and gas was like 50 cents a gallon, I drove a succession of economy cars.
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All right. Halloween is over and your sugar buzz has finally subsided. The leftover Bolster Bars are in the freezer and that costume is going into the bag for Goodwill. That means only one …
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People like to forget it now, but there was always a fierce rivalry between Rockland and Camden. In those days it was “Camden by the sea, Rockland by the smell.”
For those who forgot, Rockland …
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