He sets his alarm for 4am, but much like the 9-year-old still living deep inside him, he wakes up at 2:30, and can’t fall back to sleep. So rather than toss and turn, he slips quietly from his bed, and heads downstairs in the dark. After cruising the news sites for an hour, he deactivtes his Facebook page, and heads out at 5am. His journey will take him north, past Oneonta, to the woods just south of Cooperstown, to the land of baseball, Zack Miller, and Split Rock Road.
Every Memorial Day Weekend for the past 35 or so years, my childhood friends and I, a rotating cast of characters, have gone … Read More »